#kate you take my breath away

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader - 18+ MDNI brief suggestive content, Christmas vibes (these characters do not celebrate Christmas religiously) 🎄 There'll be much mistltoeing / It's the most wonderful time of the year - for @glitterypirateduck's cod holiday challenge

"She's lovely." Laswell comments, standing at his shoulder in the living room.

"She is." He answers, but doesn't bother to look at her, too transfixed on you, watching the way you smile and laugh, champagne flute in one hand, baby in the other. Blood rushes through his body as he stares at you, marveling at how bloody good you look with the baby on your hip, and even though he knows it's an archaic mentality, he can't help but dream about giving you another. Kate gives him a smirk that he just barely catches from the corner of his eye, and he cuts her an exasperated look. "Excuse me."

"By all means."

He makes his way to your side where you're chatting with Gaz's date, Lily, wine colored velvet dress draped across your body, snug and silky across your skin. Your hair is done, styled differently, arranged on top of your head instead of your usual or pulled into something looser, shiny gold cuff curled around the top of your ear. You’re stunning, and his mind turns over, trying to determine if it’s okay or appropriate to tell you for the third time tonight that he’s obsessed with you, that he wants to get you home and worship you, wants to rip your dress off and ruin it. He wonders if you’ll let him take you home early, if you’ll be quiet for him when he bends you over the bed, if you’ll come on his cock all breathy and sweet with his name on your lips.

Emmaline sits embraced in nook of your elbow, white and green dress complemented by tiny, shiny, black shoes, babbling away at anyone who will look at her. She lights up when he steps closer, trying to tip out of your grasp towards his, discontent rising in her crumpled little brow when she can't break free.

"Hi." You beam, his hand finding the small of your back, Emmaline wriggling around to face him, leaning back with a big smile, knocking her head into his side. You roll your eyes at Lily. "I've become chopped liver to my own baby."

"Alright, sweet pea. C'mere then." He settles her on top of his forearm, chubby fist knotting into the collar of his shirt. "Let's give mama a break, eh?" You smile, relieved, reaching up for a kiss, tip toes stretching until he leans to meet you, and when you pull away, you give Emmaline one on her cheek, bright baby giggles echoing through the room. "We're going to see what the team is up to." He bounces her, and your thumb strokes a soft circle into his waist.

"Okay."

"There she is!" Gaz calls, and Emmaline squirms in Simon's grasp, pressing her face into his neck, head tilted just slightly so she can still see the guys, cheeks dimpled. She watches Kyle cautiously, incredibly shy, and Simon whispers to comfort her.

"What's wrong, baby girl? You're alright. It's just Gaz." She mouths at his shirt, and he smooths a hand over the back of her head softly. "She's not usually so reserved, loves attention."

"Ye're scaring her." Johnny admonishes as huffs, breath rolling in a fog through the chilled air, but when Simon turns, Emmaline whips around, peering over his shoulder to stare at Gaz, expression delighted.

"I don't think she's scared, Soap. Looks smitten to me." Johnny clucks his tongue, half outraged, and Gaz just laughs, stroking her cheek as she coos soft sweet nonsense towards him, making Johnny scowl.

“’m supposed tae be her favorite.” He grumbles, and Price barks out a laugh, clapping him on his back.

“Gotta get your own for that, son.” He shakes his head, reaching a finger out to her fist, letting her grab onto him. She immediately starts to drag it towards his mouth, and Price lets her, chuckling softly under his breath. “Needs something for her teeth.”

"I think we've got something in her bag." Simon rubs her back, watching how her eyes light up when she spots Price's beard, tiny fingers mindlessly drifting towards his chin. "Mama's been giving you frozen pacifiers, huh?"

"Ye should try scotch, my maw used tae give me some, when ah was a bairn." Johnny tickles his fingers across her side and she shrieks into a giggle fit, nearly choking on laughter that has him glowing with pride. "Who's yer favorite uncle, Emmaline? Is it Uncle Soap?" Johnny whispers in his best baby voice, and Simon snorts.

"She can't have scotch, MacTavish. She's a baby, and-"

"Alright out here?" You're standing in the door, half in, half out, teetering precariously on the top step, and for the hundredth time tonight you take Simon's breath away, light from the kitchen shimmering behind you like a halo, framing you in a soft, warm yellow glow, his stomach clenching.

"We're alright." He promises, already making his way towards the doorway, taking the stairs until you're within arms reach, Emmaline clapping her hands together when she spots you. "You okay?" He keeps his voice low, yet still tender, trying not to give the guys too much ammo, and you smile, spectacular and sweet, enough to make him melt on the spot.

"Yeah, just wanted to check on you two." You brush a finger across Emma's cheek, mouth opening to say something else when Johnny's voice rings across the patio, cheeky and smug.

"LT, ye're standın' under mistletoe." He hadn't noticed the cluster of greenery tacked to the bricked arch just outside the door, but it's hard to miss now, and when you glance above your head and laugh, he shrugs his shoulders. "Well..."

"Well?" You raise an eyebrow. A challenge. An invitation. Enough of both for him, encouragement not needed in the first place, his lips finding yours easily, pulling you into the bulk of his body, wrapping an arm around your waist while still holding Emma against his chest in the other. She bridges the gap between you, both of his girls safe and sheltered in his arms, and he blocks out the sound of Gaz and Johnny's shouting and whooping, focusing on the taste of your tongue, smell of your skin, plush lips against his. It's everything, you're everything, you and Emmaline- his family, his to love, to care for, to protect, emotion welling up in his chest that has him pulling away and pressing his nose against the top of your head, mouth finding your temple, your cheek, his eyes closed and breaths measured.

"Merry Christmas." He whispers, still holding you tight, and you dip forward to press a kiss to Emmaline's scalp, your hand reaching for his jaw, thumb reverently stroking across the scar on his cheek.

"Merry Christmas Simon."

#peaches writes #light on #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #codholiday2023 #simon ghost riley x reader

[rileyslibrary]

This or That

A/N: It’s been a while since I made Ghost flustered. Fluff. Self-indulgent. (Render by @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot)

———————————————————————

“Movies or series?” You ask.

“Movies.” He replies instantly.

“Why?”

He shifts his gaze from the scope of his sniper rifle and looks at you.

“You said the game is called this or that,” he states with a low voice. “You didn’t mention anything about me having to justify my choices.”

“Just curious.” You reply, shrugging.

He turns his attention back to the scope and shuts one eye. “Because you finish them within two, maybe three hours max.” He explains.

“Efficient, even in your leisure time, eh Lt.?”

He clicks his tongue. You wait for him to ask you back, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s too focused to bother.

“Well, I prefer-”

“Series.” He interrupts you. “I know.”

“How?”

“I know you binge-watch them late at night.”

“How do you kn-”

“And then struggle to stay awake the next morning.”

You widen your eyes and inhale through gritted teeth. “That obvious, huh?”

He chuckles and murmurs a ‘mhm’ while looking at the distant building.

A message pops up on your laptop’s screen. Kate.

“Laswell says your target is on his way; she’ll let us know when he’s getting closer,” you inform him. “Vanilla or strawberry ice cream?”

“Neither.” He replies sternly. “Boring flavours.”

“Touché.” You agree, tilting your head to the side and shrugging one of your shoulders.

He lets out another chuckle, this time shorter and readjusts his grip on the trigger.

“Any other movement in the area?” He asks, making a subtle head nod towards your laptop.

“Negative, sir,” you reply. “Drone feed is clear.”

“Good; give me another,” he orders.

“Alright,” you say and clear your throat. “Soap or Price?”

He rapidly shakes his head and turns to look at you. “What in the world is that question?” he asks with narrowed eyes.

“If you had to spend a day with either of them, not on a mission,” you explain. “Would you prefer it to be with Soap or with Price?”

He rolls his eyes and exhales slowly. “Price,” he finally mutters.

“What about Gaz or Price?”

“Price.”

“Me or-”

“Price.”

“Why?”

“For the same fucking reason I said Price the first two times,” he replies, annoyed, and resumes his surveillance through the scope.

You both fall quiet. You absently fiddle with the straps of your tactical vest, monitoring the drone’s feed on the laptop in front of you.

“What about yourself?” He asks, breaking the silence. “Soap or Price?”

“You.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“That is my answer.” You murmur, shrugging.

You catch him out of the corner of your eye as he slowly turns to look at you. You don’t dare to meet his gaze. You feel your cheeks burning; you must be as red as a beet now. You reach for a strand of your hair, untucking it from behind your ear and letting it fall to the side of your face, using it as a curtain to hide your embarrassment. You inch closer to the laptop, but he follows your every move.

“Target spotted four kilometres away,” you state, hoping to divert his attention. “We have approximately fifteen minutes.”

“Fuck,” he swears and punches the roof you are both perched on. He shuts both eyes, lowers his head, and takes a few deep breaths.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, urgently. “Everything alright?”

“Be quiet for a moment, will you?” He murmurs and checks his watch.

“Lt, target’s not supposed to be here for the next fifteen min-”

“You shouldn’t be doing that.” He states and taps the digital screen.

“Do what?” You ask puzzled.

“Playing games while we have a target to eliminate,” he snaps and shakes his wrist.

You peek at the watch; he’s measuring his heart rate.

“How much?” You ask.

“145 beats per minute,” he replies as he takes a few more deep breaths to refocus. “Now cut the games, and let’s finish the job.”

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #simon ghost riley fic #simon ghost riley fanfiction #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost cod mw2

[iicarused]

##let us adore you

jeff the killer x reader / eyeless jack x reader / ticci toby x reader / UNEDITED

synopsis: general headcanons in which how you met them

beware: DARK THEMES / yandere traits, stalking, implied manipulation, mentions of murder &&* gore //: if there is any that i missed, please let me know !

envelope from the author: masky, hoodie, and kate chaser will be pt 2 of this:)

JEFF THE KILLER

he met you at a convenience store, how funny. this man planned on killing the cashier, take the cash and leave a meal for his cannibal friend out back, then hop to the next town over. yet, you walked through the aisles of the store at the dark of the night. do you know what kind of creeps are out here at this hour?

he waited for you to leave before he got the job done. you should feel relieved, you should feel like the most luckiest person in the world and it’s because he spared you.

“no, i’m staying back.” he would tell his eyeless friend. “it’s my business to know and for you to fuck off,” he’d argue. “i have a… dilemma.” jeff confessed. for someone he only caught a glimpse of, for a voice he only heard a faint whisper from, he didn’t know whether to stay just for you or to leave while he can.

you were a plague in his mind, because he searched for you. it took three days at most to finally find the dorms you stayed in, and another three to know your roommates schedule. everyone in the area was shaken from the murder, everything including you. but why?

he could not understand why you would lock your windows and double check if the door was locked. both of you lived in a secured building where security littered the grounds and constantly checked ID. jeff would know, he stole a carbon copy of himself (in terms of dressing style) just to make sure of your safety on campus.

“hey, watch it!” jeff barked at the random who sped by you. he fixed his mask and came to your aid, a gloved hand coming over yours to help you up from the grass.

“oh, they’re probably just late to class,” you breathed. “it’s fine, but thank you.”

through the thin lens of his sunglasses, jeff drank in your appearance. “they could’ve bumped you on to the curb side — it really ain’t, sweetheart.” you smell great by the way.

“but they didn’t.” you finally looked at him and smiled. “are you a med student?”

you’re so sweet. so pure, and he wanted to corrupt that. he wanted to see those pretty doe eyes flutter up at him like that again, for the sweetness behind your gaze was enough for him to melt. he wants you, no, he needs you.

EYELESS JACK

you were a curious one, a little too curious in this scenario. a detective in a case of which you were to figure out why bodies were missing organs — or why people were waking up with soreness to their abdomen to only find a stitched up wound.

you took this case as an eager detective who wanted to solve the biggest mystery of north america — but you felt as if you just signed your life away. in the next eight victims that fell to their demise, you made notes of when and where it occurred. it would not be until a night after talking with the sheriff and little too much rum, you found something.

to your horror, the first letter of every street spelled something. two words that nearly sent you running if it weren’t for something stopping you from leaving

“found you.” his voice was a gentle whisper, and almost incoherent if it weren’t for the dead silence in the room. you dared not turn but you felt if you didn’t, it would come closer.

the pistol is on your desk and you’re ready to make a ruckus for anyone on the street to hear. “what? was this just some silly little game for you to show me you could spell?” there were only two regrets you had in your entire life.

the first regret was that you wished you never lied to your mother of who broke the plate that was on the floor. the second regret was turning around and facing a being that was too intricate for you to understand.

“i like playing with my food.” he replied before lunging at you.

you made it out alive — but at the cost of remembering how those sockets were nothing but a void. the liquid that cried on to your face when he was on top of you, and that second, you took your pen and stabbed his side. — but that encounter made you more determined than before

this case turned into a game of cat and mouse, and neither of you know who is cat or who is the mouse. chasing each other became a source of entertainment, and conversations ensued between physical fights

he never intended on killing you, oh no. you were too… fun. the chatting, the hunting each other, the thrill of it all made him go crazy. with time, maybe he can finally sink his teeth into your skin without the murder aspect. he just wants to taste you.

TICCI TOBY

your name appeared on the file of people to “take care of.” why? he doesn’t know and quite frankly, he cannot care. you were just another name on the list that needed to be gone.

he would not lie that it took him ages to find you. the town you were supposedly at was a total flunk, and when he told the boss, he was told to figure it out. at this rate, he wanted you gone for the sake of his own sanity. yet, after a month and hopping two towns, he finally found you.

everything he had on file sprouted nothing but lies because you were a doll, quiet literally if he fixated on your skin. he watched the way you moved and the way you made it seem effortless to walk on two feet. he often tripped over his when gawking over you. your scent is just how he imagined it when he peered over your sleeping form.

you made him forget why he was in search of you in the first place. toby fantasized a lot about you: your curves, your voice, your walk, your life. he often daydreamed of it when watching from afar, especially when you went through mundane tasks such as grocery shopping. the only time he remembered why he was told to end you was when he questioned why you were such a threat.

turns out you were friends of a friend who was a foe to his boss — the eyeless man. he made it no secret when in turn he went to find jack, but he didn’t expect to meet you so soon! oh, this is way too soon, how does he look? is it okay, this setting isn’t the right place, i mean, you were supposed to be

“toby? just toby? that isn’t quiet threatening for a man like that, isn’t it?” you werent speaking towards him, but instead asking jack who snorted in return.

you were a prize on the shelf, and toby wanted to keep you behind glass doors. “listen — pal, friend — how about we make a deal.”

while jack couldn’t see it, your gaze was locked with toby’s the entire time. there was something behind them, something that you couldn’t quite place. you weren’t sure whether if it was a good or bad thing considering the work you found yourself in.

“i give you a useful warning from a boss, and i... tag a long sometimes.”

#ᥫ᭡. #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x you #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta imagines #jeff the killer imagine #eyeless jack imagine #ticci toby imagine

[lydiimae]

Jealousy

A.N: OMG I am finally starting this blog. I am so so excited. This is a Benedict Bridgerton fic ofc. The true loml. I'm still debating if I will write only Bridgerton orrrrrr others? I dunno... but for now, here is a lovely, smutty, cutie, Ben fic hehe <3

Warnings: semi-public sex, fingering, vaginal sex, drinking, dirty talk, heavy praise, talk of public heavy petting ;)

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Minors DNI!! 18+

He sighs from beside Eloise, shifting on the picnic blanket for what has to be the millionth time. "Brother, you worry too much about that woman." She mutters with an amused glint in her eye, taking a bite of one of the strawberry tarts the family maids had made for the occasion.

A family picnic was not a rarity during the social season, especially for the Bridgerton's. What was a rarity is that Benedict had invited a woman along, an incredibly important woman at that. Y/N L/N, a daughter of an influential Viscount. The woman he found himself to be head over heels in love with.

"I am not worried. I am merely observing so our brother does not make a fool of himself in front of her." He replies with a huff, taking a sip from his flask before tucking it back into his pocket.

You were merely speaking with his brother. His happily married older brother. He has no reason to be jealous, really, but something in him still tugs painfully at the sight of you speaking to another man. It is only when Kate comes to steal her husband away that you scootch back over to him, a bright smile on your face.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You move back over to Benedict and look up at his cute pouty expression, smiling at the warmth that blooms in your chest as a result.

You wished to get to know his family before the inevitable happens. Marriage. You know, as well as he does, that you were both going to tie the knot as soon as it was acceptable to do so. You also know that he would scoop you up and marry you tomorrow if he had his way.

At the very first ball of the season, Lady Danbury insisted that she had someone for you to meet. Someone who enjoyed painting just as much as you did. So, she took your arm and led you away from your father to the Bridgerton family. You were confused, at first, when the already happily married Viscount, Anthony, turned to greet you. And then, as if the sea was parting, he appeared. A crooked grin on his face as he moved to see you. Benedict Bridgerton, although he is a second son, stole your heart as soon as you saw him.

From then on you waited with bated breath for every dance you would share, dreamt of him in your bedroom when you got home, and thought of nothing but him in between. You shared stolen glances at every event and even snuck off to any hidden corner or garden you could find for breathless kisses and entirely impolite words that sent your mind into a whirlwind you could not explain.

Soon enough, he started inviting you on promanades and even sooner he wished for you to dine with his family. Get to know his life outside of the stuffy ballroom, to which you found yourself falling even deeper in love than you could've ever imagined.

"You're pouting, Ben." You hum, taking a sip of your lemonade with an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Indeed. Perhaps if you were not so caught up with my brother I would not have a reason to pout, hm?" He returns, moving to take another sip from his flask.

He was jealous? Of his married brother? You sigh and move your hand over his, shaking your head slightly. You hand him a glass of lemonade. If he truly is jealous, the last thing he needs is whiskey.

"If you truly wish to hear what we were talking about, I shall tell you." You return as he takes a sip of the lemonade you gave him. He moves his hand over yours, just out of sight of his family. A possessive gesture that makes your heart flutter.

"Yes, in fact, do enlighten me." He grumbles with a sigh. "His wife, Benedict. He was talking about his lovely wife, which if you have forgotten, happens to be my dear friend." You sigh, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He looks over at you, his green eyes sweeping down to your lips, then your chest, before finally looking back up. "I care not of what you were speaking about, I should like you to speak with me when it is I who invited you." He practically growls, the tone of his voice making the place between your legs heat up and dampen instantly. A feeling that only happened with him, something he had explained as both desire and arousal.

"You know that I-" You begin, but are cut off by him pulling you to your feet. The glasses of lemonade are now completely forgotten. "Mother, I should like to promenade with Lady Y/N." He fibs.

What he would really like to do is rip the skirt of your dress open, spread your legs wide, and plunge his cock so deep inside of your soaked cunt that you forget everything else. He wants to paint your insides with his seed right here, in front of the whole ton, so that every man can get a glimpse of who you truly belong to.

"Of course, dear. We shall not keep you." Violet replies with a smile before delving back into conversation with Eloise, who also looks up with a confused expression but quickly rolls her eyes and continues to speak to her mother.

You shoot him a questioning look to which he just raises an eyebrow and offers his arm. You take it and he begins to lead you away from the picnic canopies that many families have set up to dine under.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Where are we going?" You question after a moment, realizing that you are not following the path around the lake but rather the path to the carriages.

He stops and tugs you behind a tree, pushing you up against the trunk. The bark bites into the little exposed skin the back of your dress grants you and your cunt flutters when you see his expression.

Desire is different for men, he taught you. You can see it in the way his trousers tighten at the front and in the way his eyes haze over. His hands move to your waist and he bends down, pressing kisses all the way up your neck until he reaches your ear.

"Agree to marry me and I shall show you." He whispers, biting the soft flesh beneath your ear causing you to shiver and whine. He grins and licks over the tender skin, soothing the sting.

"You already know very well that I would say yes to any proposal you give me." You breathe, leaning your head back as your eyes flutter shut. His hand skates over your stomach, running up the smooth fabric of your dress until he meets your breast. He cups one and swipes his thumb over your hardened nipple through the fabric.

He pulls away, swiping the saliva off his bottom lip with his thumb before picking you up. You squeal and he chuckles, paying the driver of his carriage off before tucking you inside. He closes the door and the curtains on the window, darkness enclosing the both of you.

"Benedict." You whisper as he lays you back on the velvety bench. "Hush, my love. I shall not do anything before asking I swear it." The title makes your heart almost burst out of your chest. He dips down once more, pressing his lips to yours briefly.

You pull him back down before he gets very far, chasing one of those open-mouthed kisses he gave you at the last ball. He groans, his tongue swiping over yours. He grins over your lips at the sound that escapes, moving his hands to yours where they rest on his chest before breaking the kiss.

"Ben please." You whine, wanting him to continue so desperately. He only smiles, taking off your gloves. "You must have patience, my sweet girl. I am going to ravish you in due time." He assures, pressing soft kisses from your palm all the way up to your shoulder as he takes off his gloves as well.

He reaches your neck, to which he takes a deep breath. Taking in your scent of lavender and citrus, making him groan as it always does. "Do you remember when I taught you to ride my thigh?" He whispers, running his tongue down to your collarbone, nipping the skin.

The memory makes you flood your underwear. You remember well, how could you not? He had lead you to the garden at one of Lady Danbury's balls and sat you down on his lap on the edge of the fountain. He hiked up your skirt and led your hips back and forth until something inside of you snapped so hard you saw stars and stained his trousers. That is where he taught you about his arousal, about yours.

"Yes." You breathe, your eyes fluttering shut as one of his hands moves under your skirt. His slender fingers skating teasingly up your thigh. "Good girl." He praises. He cups your cunt without warning and you cry out, your hips canting.

"Fuck. You are absolutely drenched." He whispers, relishing in the moans he draws from your body just from keeping a hand over your cunt. "And I told you about sex, do you remember that darling?" He murmurs, watching your eyes flutter.

He slowly pushes your skirt up so he can slide off your panties. He tucks them into his pocket, smiling to himself. "Yesss." You moan as the air hits your bare sex. "You told me it happens when we get married." You whisper between whines as his hand comes back, his fingers curling into your pubic hair.

"Such a good listener. So good for me." He praises, sliding two of his fingers along your drenched slit before finding your clit with expert touch. He rubs a slow circle on your button and you moan loudly, throwing your head back. "Now, when a man has honor he waits to take a woman's innocence. But my honor disappeared when I saw you with my brother," You try and protest but he pinches your clit and you cry out before you can get so much as a whisper out.

"So I will take you now. In this damn carriage." He growls, moving his free hand to your hips to hold you down. You whine when his fingers move down. "Fuck you are perfect," He breathes. "I'm going to slide one of my fingers inside now, darling, alright?" He murmurs, the switch from possessive to sweet sending your mind reeling. So overwhelmed, so mindless Just how he likes you.

You nod tentatively, your heart rate spiking which he picks up on. He shifts so he is over you, and kisses the crown of your head. "I'll go slow, hm? Nice and slow. All you need to do is pat my arm twice and I'll stop." He assures, calming your heart. You nod and nuzzle his neck.

He slowly plunges a long finger into your weeping cunt and you whine at the invasion. "Good girl, fuck you are so tight." You gasp and writhe as he curls his finger, the feeling sending a shock straight to your clit. He slowly adds another finger and you moan loudly, your eyes rolling back.

"Ben... so good. Feels...." You cry out when his fingers curl into a spot that sends waves of pleasure through you. He grins and begins to rock his fingers, drawing heavenly noises from your soaked cunt. The carriage filled with the sound of your moans and the squelching of your pussy.

He licks a stripe up your neck, beginning to suck as he rocks his fingers. You curl a hand in his thick curls and tug, your hips desperately trying to move against the palm of his hand.

He kisses your jaw, and then your chin, before finally capturing your lips. His tongue immediately sliding past your swollen lips and tangling with yours. You moan into his mouth as his thumb presses down on your swollen clit, moving clockwise as he rocks his fingers into your body.

He breaks the kiss and pulls out his fingers, much to your dismay, before unbuttoning his trousers. "Benedict... why did you stop? It felt so very nice..." You whine, grinding on nothing to try and gain some sort of feeling.

He groans at the sight, bending down and pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek. "My harlot of a fiancee. So needy for something she does not even know the half of." He praises as he slowly frees his cock, the sight along with his filthy words making you gasp.

He pulls back and strokes himself with the help of your delicious wetness, before looking back at your sweet face. All flushed and wide-eyed. He moves his free hand to your chin, running his thumb over your bottom lip.

"It will not fit, Benny." You whisper, suddenly frightened. His eyes soften and he moves down pressing a swift kiss to your lips. "It will, my love. We will go slow, I promise. Remember what I told you, two pats on my arm and we will stop." He hums, peppering your face with kisses which causes you to giggle and calm a bit. "Perhaps one pat for apprehension, hm?" He murmurs with a smile, pulling back. You nod.

"Good girl." He hums. He leans in and runs his length through your soaked folds drawing moans from the both of you. "Fuck. God, I love you." He grunts and you smile, draping your arms over your eyes to cover your blush. "I love you too, Benedict." You whisper back.

He slowly pushes into your body, throwing his head back at how tight your pretty pussy is. You cry out at the invasion, your hands shooting down to grasp at the edges of the carriage bench. The feeling is a strange mix of pain and something different. A tart taste on your tongue paired with a tingly feeling in your already hot womb. "Fucking hell." He groans before tucking his face in the crook of your neck, stopping halfway so you can adjust.

You whine and wrap your arms around his neck after a moment. "P-Please..... more. I need more, Benedict." You gasp after the pain subsides. God, he almost comes right there. He wants you like this all the time, mindless for his cock. Begging him to fuck you.

"Good fucking girl, Y/N." He grunts before bottoming out inside of you. You moan and toss your head back into the seat cushion and he groans at the feeling. "You feel so good, my love. So ripe, so wet. God, so very tight just for me." He praises.

He begins to move slowly, the slap of thighs meeting thighs filling the carriage. The feeling is so foreign but fuck you never want it to stop. Moans and whines slip past your lips before you can even begin to try and stop them, and you cry out as he speeds up. The noises he is drawing from your body would embarrass you if you didn't adore the way he feels inside of you to the point that you can think of nothing else. You wish to be like this as much as you can, full to the brim with his cock.

"Benedict." You moan and he stalls, gritting his teeth. "Never ever stop moaning my name, you vixen. God, I am a lucky man. The luckiest man in the world." He praises you as he begins to slam into you.

You grip his coat so hard you are surprised the velvety fabric hasn't torn. You cry out when his thumb finds your clit, the feeling sending you up to the clouds. "Come for me, my love." He grunts from above you with a slight slap on your thigh. That sends you over, your vision going white as you scream his name.

He thrusts a few more times before pulling out and pumping himself. He releases with a groan onto your stocking-covered thigh before collapsing on top of you.

After a moment he lifts his head to look at you, brushing your fallen hair out of your face. You smile, almost drunkenly, as you look at him. "That was heavenly." You whisper and he smirks, pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Just wait until we are married. I cannot wait to fill you with my seed and see you plump with my child." He murmurs. resting his head back on your shoulder. Your hand absentmindedly finds his hair, running through his messy curls.

"We have to go back." You whisper to which he shakes his head. "Not yet. I paid off the driver. We have as much time to rest as we wish, dearest." He hums, his eyes closed. You grin and close yours as well, slowly dozing off with him.

You are the luckiest woman in the world.

#benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #fanfic #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fic #smut #fem reader #imagine #x reader #benedict bridgerton oneshot #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #fic #benedict bridgerton fic

[devilmademewriteit]

If You Lie Down With Me

pairing: (pre-ellie) dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

summary: there’s only one guy in all of boston that can get you a morning after pill. unfortunately, on top of being a huge asshole, Joel Miller also happens to be your dad’s closest peer.

warnings: rough sex / smut (masturbation, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; unprotected sex; light choking & restraint; light dom/sub dynamic; fem afab reader; reader has long-ish hair (that gets touched); plot-typical violence (guns, death); plot deviations (no Tess); medication ingestion; pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel); dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, no explicit consent).

word count: 6.5k+

no use of y/n in this fic

alright y’all I’m baaaaAAAaack! so this is basically the other version of Dark But Just a Game that I started back when I was writing it & figured I’d finish it to get out of my hiatus. like any devilmademewriteit fic, it’s dark and nasty and deprived like meeeeeee <3 hope u enjoy !

don’t forget to reblog, check out my masterlist, sign up for the taglist, & leave any comments / feedback / & suggestions!

(ps: new part of Salvatore up next !)

—

“three times the guy I ever thought I would meet, so don't say you're over me when we both know that you lie”

— lana del rey, ‘If You Lie Down With Me’

—

Fuck.

Waking up to a racing heart, a pounding head, and a stomach swimming with nausea was never ideal, although it was always a better experience alone — when you could squint and hiss at the light slicing through the weaknesses in the drapes without hearing your groans echoed by a lower, louder, and annoyingly more pitiful voice.

Right. What was his name?

Jared? Jordan? Jermaine?

Ah, who cares.

If he’d wanted a safe place to nurse his hangover, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed. Sure, the odds of dad being conscious at this hour (especially the odds after a party like last night’s) were Kate Moss — no, Rolling Stones — slim, but the man would get up at some point, meaning that this poor J-whatever was likely sleeping through his only window of escape from certain homicide.

You whisper. You shake him gently. You gingerly tap the roundness of his bicep.

Huh — Not bad.

You congratulate last-night-you for reeling in this morning’s good-looking catch.

Still… nothing. Not a twitch. Nary a croaked ‘lemmesleep’ graces your ears.

After loosing an exasperated sigh and running through your options, you decide to take the most effective (and least girl-next-door) route. The corner of your elbow collides with his ribs, and the boy jumps up, his loose, blonde curls as wild as his eyes, searching the room for his attacker.

You want to smile at the scene, but the motion hurts your head.

“Y’gotta go,” you croak out, thumbs rubbing circles against your aching temples.

He collapses onto his back, copying your movement with his own fingers to his brow. “God. I feel like shit.”

Despite muttering your agreement, you let your eyelashes flutter closed and your weight turn you away from last night’s paramour: no use figuring out who he is after the (f)act — that just makes it personal.

After a few breaths, the boy moves back up to a shakey sitting position.

Probably sourcing for his clothes.

He reeks of booze and sex — but then again, so do you. His roughened, unfamiliar tenor climbs to barely above a whisper, “Z’something stuck on my leg… blood, or something…”

His interrupting your suffering comes as a deeply unwelcome annoyance, so you try to sort him out to clear him out: “Prolly just the condom,” you mumble, rolling back onto your shoulders, reluctantly supervising his movements.

He lifts up fully, sitting criss-cross and pulling his calf towards him.

“No,” he tries to laugh but succumbs to the nausea, settling for a low breath instead, “S’blood, dude, from beer darts — and I didn’t use a condom.”

Your eyes immediately dart over, settling on his naked, wretched, shivering form. He notices your ire and the hitching of your throat, immediately defensive.

“I asked if you wanted to.”

Unfortunately, he had. The memories of your drunken entanglement start to resurface inside your mind. “It just feels better without one.” This time, you curse last-night-you for being such a careless, inconsiderate, horny bastard.

You’re making problems for me, girl.

“J’s get out.”

J-whatever spares no time complying, collecting his few strewn belongings and staggering out the front door. Once it slides shut, so too do your poor, weary eyes.

Shit.

There goes the afternoon.

Getting your hands on condoms in the QZ was at least fifteen times easier than snatching a morning after pill. Those were a hot commodity, especially among the younger, less responsible crowds.

Luckily for you, as a member of aforementioned younger, less responsible crowds, you knew where your best chances lay in finding whatever it was you needed (if what you needed was deeply immoral or wholly illegal). Unluckily for you, that ‘best chance’ happened to be your dad’s closest and longest-running business partner: temperamental, judgemental, frustratingly competent, Joel ‘Local Asshole’ Miller.

But that could all be dealt with after another eight hours of sleep.

—

Opportunity strikes sooner than expected.

Miller’s in your living room by the time you wake up, the low rumble of his southern baritone recognizable even through the closed door. After scrambling to throw on some clothes, you press an ear to the chipping paint, hoping to determine the number of bodies gathered in your home.

Not many. Just Miller (and the old man, of course).

The latter’s presence bodes ill for you. This would all have to be done in secret, which was not an uncommon strategy where ever the former was involved. No one dealt with Joel Miller to conduct clean-cut, wholesome activities. No one was calling him up for a spare copy of the holy book.

No, getting him alone was essential.

A drink slams down on the counter. After a good, patient ten minutes, you hear your father (‘s rather crude way of) excusing himself to the washroom and heavy-set footsteps decrescendoing down the hall.

This is it.

You slip through the door.

At first, your company takes no notice of you, his eyes still glued to the maps and papers littering the counter before him.

Then, a low grumble: “fun night?”

His voice makes you weak in the knees — an involuntary, near ritual-like response you’d noticed around your mid teens and hadn’t managed to kick yet.

You swallow before responding. “Yes.”

It’s all you manage to muster. Miller finally looks up, wincing slightly as his back straightens. He looks tired, at least more than usual, with his wild, grey-streaked hair tousled and the lines by his mouth cutting deep into his skin.

You’re sure you don’t look much better, a suspicion proven by the man���s slowly spreading, barely-noticeable smirk. That gaze makes you self conscious, mute; your right hand snakes up, absent-mindedly dragging a fallen bra strap back to its proper position.

“So, what was his name?”

He’s teasing, sure, but Miller was there last night. He’d always had sharper perceptions than your father did, especially — and ironically — when it came to you. That skill tended to squander your confidence as the daughter of a modern-day mafia-boss and the owner of a hard, violent heart.

Rushed by the sound of your father’s footsteps, you default to honesty.

“I don’t remember.”

“Try.”

“Josh.”

Amusement flits across his stern expression. “Again.”

“Jamie.”

“Warmer.”

“J-J-something—”

“Gettin’ colder, sweetheart—”

“I need the pill.”

It just tumbles out, an exasperated, desperate plea. Miller, a bit taken aback by your candor, drains of his previous playfulness. You almost notice the split second those dark eyes glaze over. For a second, you’re almost convinced he’s distracted by his imagination’s recreations of the act that had you making such a request.

You almost notice the tingling between your thighs.

He stares. You stare back.

Fuck.

It was moments like this that made you wish Tess was still around. Oh, she wouldn’t be any kinder — no, not at all — but she’d certainly be more professional. Tess was all work, no play. Joel was…

You’re enjoying this, you bastard. You’re enjoying that I’m cornered like this, aren’t you?

The bathroom handle clicks when it turns, and your heart drops into your toes.

Maybe Miller really wasn’t going to help you. Maybe he didn’t have the pill and you’d just embarrassed yourself for nothing. Or, maybe he did, but preferred outing you to your dad at the very first opportunity — letting him deal with you the only way he knew how.

Your fears seem confirmed: his eyes leave the grace of your own, trailing back to his big, splayed hands on the countertop. Unwelcome tears burn the corners of your eyes as the panic begins to set in, as footsteps begin to fall…

“Mine. Tonight.”

It’s low and rushed, but it’s clear, cutting off to the sound of your father lumbering in. A man who saw, thought, and lived through transactions, he’s (thankfully) blissfully ignorant of the tension collapsing around him.

“Morning,” he throws your way.

A taunt, of course — it was well past noon.

You nod in acknowledgement, slowly backing into the doorway of your sacred, beckoning room. They resume their conversation from before, letting you sink into irrelevance.

Before shutting yourself in, you catch a few of Miller’s hushed words. They’re spoken casually to your father but, you later decide, surely meant for you:

“Not that one kid — Jeremy — don’t trust him.”

The door seals (well, not seals… it creaks on its rusty hinges and squeezes into its shrinking frame), and relief courses through you, reaching the very tips of your fingers.

That only lasts a minute.

Soon, you’re negotiating with the rising anxiety of being at Miller’s place alone, asking for his help with a problem that could’ve been avoided if you’d only kept your legs shut.

Alone with Miller, the both of you knowing that you hadn’t.

Crawling back under your covers, you begrudgingly make a vow of celibacy. If this was the cost of attention and a (potential) mid-range orgasm, you were about to become very frugal.

Dreams come easy, but they don’t come sweet.

Flashes of last night’s sins overlay Joel Miller’s unintelligible speech, his voice from the next room over lulling you into a rather confusing, disturbed sleep.

—

At nighttime, it’s a short walk to his building.

Down this alley, past this street, up this back stairwell. Part of being in with Boston’s seedy underbelly gained you access to the best and most up-to-date intel; by the age of twelve, you could run the safest — well, least policed — post-curfew routes from memory.

(Which had come in handy in situations a lot more dire than this.)

Sneaking in was easy, although you cursed him for being so preoccupied during the day. Coming in at this hour required some delicate maneuvers through a half-shattered window, and a less-than-graceful leap down left you with a nick on your cheekbone and a shallow cut along the side of your hand.

Thankfully, the blood mostly dries on your walk up the six or eight or ten flights of stairs. You don’t resent the exercise; it feels good to move, putting the jitters building in every still moment in abeyance.

Still moments like the kind that passes after a barely-audible, coded knock delivered by a girl sucking on the side of her hand, almost wishing for the door not to open.

It does.

He’s in jeans — dirty jeans, dusty — and a simple flannel. It’s Miller — it’s Miller at his most Joel-Miller-like-ness.

So why am I so fucking nervous?

He holds the door open, brows knitting at the sight of your hand in your mouth.

“Window,” You offer.

He mouthes a silent ‘ah,’ before leaning forward to duck his head out the door and, in the process, somewhat sandwiching you against his chest.

Maybe it’s because he smells like forest-fires, but your skin burns red-hot.

Miller looks both ways, checking the status of the hall (empty), then nudges you into the dim light of his place with the weight of his hand against your lower back.

The door shuts behind you.

You’d been here at least a million times before, but the thoughts rising now feel so… new. The jacket strewn on the side of the sagging sofa is his — Joel Miller has sat at this table and showered, slept, fucked inside these walls.

Cut it out. It’s just ‘cause you’re alone. And older.

But what about it, now that you were alone and older?

Old enough to know what goes on between a man and a woman and a little bit of desperation at just the right amounts… and there sure was a lot of him, and some desperation, too…

“Nervous?”

Your feet hit the floor, all thoughts evaporating at the sound of his word. Blushing, you try to de-code his taunt, spoken with playfulness and too much condescension.

“Wh — what’d you — nervous for what? No.”

He’s already across the room, sifting through a box of miscellaneous items. A yellowed lamp shade catches his side-profile, illuminates the smirk spreading across his face. Then, a low command:

“Relax,” and your spine settles, acceding to his wish. “Some girls get nervous, y’know, takin’ it the first time.”

Oh.

You clear your throat, daring to take a step into his place, incensed enough to trace the indents and stab-marks decorating his kitchen table.

“No.”

You’re taken aback by the accuracy and the strength underpinning your answer. It’s true, you aren’t afraid, and hadn’t been afraid of much in a very long while.

What’s a Joel Miller to your best friend’s public hanging? What’s he to a dozen rows of semi automatics raining down on your zigzagging toes? What’s he to a period cramp?

Like a bolt of lightning hitting you in the chest, that cocky, gauche and indelicate rebel you’d grown into reappears.

“I’ve been told I take things pretty well my first time.” The tension rises — this time, at your command — just as Joel does, carrying a leather pouch in his right hand. “And it’s not, anyways,” you add for good measure.

The leather drops onto the marked-up table. Joel crosses his arms.

“Not sellin’ me on givin’ you one of these, sweetheart.”

He gestures to the bag.

A mock-frown as you draw closer to him. His eyes, although severe, reflect the playfulness dancing in your own.

“Why not?” You ask, voice dripping with false innocence.

Joel’s gaze doesn’t stray as it hardens, focused on your own. “They’re for accidents, mistakes, attacks,” he explains, deep and dangerous, “Not girls who can’t keep their pretty lil’ legs together.”

Oof.

On one hand, it sounds like he’s genuinely chastising you for your careless behaviour. But, on the other, he sounds jealous, taunting, hungry.

I’ll play that hand.

Sleeping all day had left you wide awake, and that long-time, school-girl crush on the man before you was dying for content to fantasize about. Even if he pushed you off, you’d get to feel the weight of his hands on your body, right?

So, you return with a taunt of your own: “You think my legs are pretty?”

He shakes his head, his signature scowl spreading as he mostly ignores you. “I think you should at least use condoms,” a breath, “N’ know their first names.”

Ouch.

“I usually do.” you murmur, “and it broke last night.”

“Bullshit.”

“What do you mean, bullshit?”

Joel sighs and lowers himself into one of the four old, rickety chairs lining the table. His hand comes up to his temples and you notice how his legs, exhausted, part.

The man doesn’t deign to respond.

Irritation begins to well in your core, sneaking through your arms and up into your throat. The muscle in your jaw must be twitching like crazy.

How does he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Across the QZ, as a skilled liar and born and bred bandit, people tended to hold whatever image of you that you’d crafted for them.

Not Joel. Never Joel.

He saw through you in a way that had always felt… intimate. It was one of the reasons, you guessed, he didn’t dare spend too much time alone with you and why you’d always been curious about him (as a man, of course). Now, there was no avoiding your obvious vulnerability from either of you — you were stripped bare, your dressings in his hand.

It makes you want to flee as much as it makes you want to leap into his arms.

You snatch up the pouch, opening it up to find a mass of differently coloured and shaped pills. Rifling through, you ignore Joel’s stare boring into your hands’ erratic search.

“Yellow ones,” he says.

“I know what they look like,” you retort.

“‘Course you do.”

He moves faster than he should be able to.

One moment, your palm is slicing through the air, headed straight for the highest point of his cheek. The next, you’re facedown on the table. Your attacking hand is caged in by a much larger, much stronger one, pinned to the decaying wood; the other, he pins behind your back. Pills litter the floor — Joel’s boot crunches into a wayward one as he adjusts himself behind you, leaning over your struggling, smaller frame, immobilizing you with his weight.

“Let go of me—” you hiss, words smothered by the wooden surface pressed to your profile.

“—Shut up ‘n listen,” he commands, leaning over to tower over his trapped victim. “Try that again n’I’ll do worse’n kill you. Understand?”

Despite the authenticity of his threat, a strangled laugh wracks your lungs.

“Gonna turn me in for contraband, Miller? Watch them gun me down in the square?”

You smile through your heavy breaths. There, behind your hips, is a growing movement indicative of some other kind of punishment he’s got in mind.

“Or,” you continue on coyly, “Give me another reason to need that pill?”

Joel pauses, untangling your meaning.

Then, an exasperated scoff. His hold tightens on your wrist and you wince. “You always thinkin’ of the fastest way to get a man to fuck you?”

“Only when his cock’s pressed against my ass.”

He goes quiet — only for a moment. Somewhere outside, rounds echo through the night.

“Z’that what you want?” His voice is deep and threatening, promising of the kind of hard, mind-numbing fuck you’d been craving for weeks.

After a hard swallow, you nod, catching the raise of his eyebrows in your periphery.

A moment passes as he mulls over your answer. Only your shallow, anticipatory breaths populate the quiet space.

“Alright.”

And he lets go.

Heart racing, wrists aching, you flip around to his neutral, impenetrable expression.

“Get down on your knees.”

Without taking a moment to decide whether you’re living anything more than just a really fucked up dream, you sink to your knees, folding your hands in your lap (to stop them from shaking). Before you, Joel’s bulge twitches while he watches you yielding to submission, and you try to ignore the excitement building between your own two legs.

His eyes burn into yours: black, starved, weighty. He tells you to shut your own and you do, unable to resist the tone of his command. Within the self-imposed darkness, Joel’s following order — ‘open your mouth,’ — parts your lips as if they were under his spell. You wonder what you must look like to him, needy and ready to receive whatever you’re given.

He speaks again.

“Show me your tongue, angel.”

The gruffness punctuating his arousal doesn’t let you stand a chance. You let your mouth fall open wider.

Next, there’s rustling. You try to remember whether or not he’d had on a belt, listening and failing to hear the soft clinks of a buckle coming undone.

Too soon, something wraps around your chin — thick, calloused fingers — and the pressure of a thumb running down the middle of your tongue sends a rush of electricity down every stacked vertebrae. It’s slow, tantalizingly slow, as if the man were trying to memorize the feel of every groove, ridge, and bud on his leisurely way out.

When Joel drops his hand, a small weight remains at the back of your throat.

“Close.”

You do, opening your eyes to meet his own: severe and wanting — or wanting for severity?

It’s a pill. That much is obvious once the taste begins to spread, bitter and chemical and totally gag-worthy. He follows up with ‘swallow’ for his own sick enjoyment; by the time he says it, it’s clear that you already have.

What kind of game is this, Miller?

Your cheeks burn when your company kneels down. He places his big, broad hand partly on your neck, partly to the side of your jaw, and you’re still too taken aback to tear it off. The feel of his rough palm against your racing pulse silences every urge to enact revenge. Words don’t come — too quickly forgotten on one’s knees.

“You’re way too easy for your own good, sweetheart,” he near-whispers, shooting to kill in a blow packed tight with condescension. “Don’t let me see you here again.”

And that’s it: your cue to get lost.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Miller pulls away from your reddening skin, straightening to stand. You follow suit soon after, heart pumping lead, tongue bruised by the memory of his touch (more overwhelming than the metallic residue dripping down your throat).

He turns, running a few fingers through his hair. It’s the last look you get before resigning yourself to the journey back home.

Still, before turning the rusted handle, in a brief moment of respite, of clarity, you seize the final word:

“I’m only ‘easy’ when I’m drunk. Or interested.”

Silence courses through the room as Joel registers the meaning behind your confession.

“Goodnight, Miller.”

With that, you see yourself into the hallway, checking its status before tearing into the stairwell.

You barely breathe.

He wanted me — he had to have wanted me.

Miller was a pragmatic player; surely, he’d only bother to play with toys he liked like that… right?

Right?

Unable to clear your head or cool the heat radiating through your core, you take the long way home, the distant sounds of a war between rivals soothing the cacophony of noise swimming between your ears.

—

For the next two weeks, all you’re able to think about is him.

You think about him when he’s gone and when he’s in the room, grumbling in hushed tones to your father. You think about him when you’re unable to fall asleep, letting your hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, imagining your own fingers as thick, tan ones running through the warmth between your legs.

He takes no notice of you — a fact you deeply resent. Even in your skimpiest clothing, he’s like a damn horse with blinders on. You decide, in the past weeks, he’d either acquired the patience of Job or purged every sinful craving from his system when he’d stuck his fingers down your throat.

Naturally, you’re more than happy when, at breakfast (two in the afternoon), your father gives you the heads up about tonight’s gathering at the Bar (which was really just an asbestos-ridden basement equipped with enough prohibition-style gadgets and architecture to host a good ‘strategic meeting’ every other month).

“Everyone’s gonna be there,” he mumbles. “Need you to keep your ears open. Had to take a couple rats out last week…”

Everyone’s gonna be there.

Smiling to yourself, your thoughts start to spin out. Business, distractions, booze. Tonight would host a million opportunities for you to get him alone.

Hope blooms through your chest.

Do your worst, Miller.

—

“Man, I wish we could’ve experienced cocktails. Straight hooch is ass.”

A peer named Mel, just a year older than yourself, cringes as she sips on whatever murky liquor’s found its way into her cup.

You don’t mind the taste so much, having grown mostly immune to its taste and burn. In fact, you’d come to welcome the subsequent lapse in breath and judgement.

There was little else in this world that made you feel alive.

“Mhm,” you respond absent-mindedly, looking for a familiar scowl among the mass of scowls peppering the crowd.

A sigh to your right. “Always awesome, having your attention.”

The criticism snaps you back into your body. You smile sheepishly at your friend, apologizing through a wince.

She shrugs, her raggedy, pin-decorated jacket jingling with the movement. “S’okay. Known you long enough to know that look.”

For that, she receives a quizzical glance.

Mel comes back with a scoff. “No victims tonight?”

“Oh god,” you shoot her a look of disgust. “Do you mind not using such weird vocabulary? Make me sound like a predator.”

As the words tumble out, you zero in on the object of your search. There he is: eyebrows knit together in concentration, drink in hand, unsurprisingly (and annoyingly) in conversation with your father. A few other stragglers are in the mix, too, but they’re easily overlooked. Time slows to a full stop in his wake —only for the briefest of seconds —

“Well since the last guy actually wound up dead a week later, I think it’s fitting.”

Once again, Mel’s managed to wrangle your interest.

You stare blankly into her onyx eyes, ringlets falling through molasses around her face. “Jeremy?”

And she’s bewildered. “You didn’t hear?”

This time, both of your heads turn in the same direction.

“Ratted to FEDRA about the storehouse off tenth,” she explains, gesturing towards Miller and your father with a tilt of her head. Famous for her bravery, she stoops into your shoulder, averting his gaze and speaking under her breath, “Judging by the way they found him, my guess is it was mostly Miller’s stuff.”

It’s as if she’d screamed it.

The subject of your conversation turns to face you right as your company’s words drift off. Despite the level of noise, the amount of people, and the cloudiness of the air, you’re trapped in the corridor of your mutual stare, cornered.

The challenge, the knowing marking his expression.

“I need some air.”

You twist into the body standing behind you, shoving row after row of criminal scum out of the way. Mel doesn’t follow — she’d never hung around to comfort you, only to inform you. A mutual, typical relationship for the age, and just how things worked in the QZ.

You slam into the door, stomping into a deserted, silent alley, empty save for a few drunk strays. Your lips begin to tingle and a scream builds inside your lungs. Stalking blindly into the night, unsure of your direction, alone in half a top and a plain, ass-length skirt, shivering despite the warmth of the air…

You’re practically begging for trouble.

Just as your eyes catch the numbers on the old, rusted street sign above, just as you realize you’re on a monitored street tonight, only safe after curfew every other Monday and Wednesday, you’re grabbed by the waist, pulled into the space between two buildings, and shoved into a sheltered nook.

A dim, yellow light clicks on automatically. There’s a door (chained closed) leading into the building to your left and darkness to your right.

And there’s Joel Miller above you, his expression indeterminable.

“You asshole,” you barely hear yourself breathe over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears before lunging forward in a useless attempt to, once again, strike his profile.

He catches your wrist, no doubt having anticipated the attack. It’s written on your face, in your eyes, in your shallow, uneven inhalations. He takes your other hand before you’ve even thought to use it, lifting it above your head and slamming it against the old stucco behind you.

“You’re violent,” he says flatly.

He tightens his hold when you struggle against it. “Proud of yourself, yeah? You’re a killer.”

That inspires a slight smirk. You half expect him to return with an ‘as if you didn’t already know that.’

Instead, he says, “Sweetheart, you didn’t even know his name.”

“You should’ve told me.”

And that’s the real source of this anger: it’s rage at being the last to know.

And for what? To protect your feelings? Since when had anyone in your life bothered to do that?

“And don’t call me ‘sweetheart’,” you add for good measure.

You’d wanted him to touch you so badly for weeks now, but here, scorned at being left in the dark and confused at the death of a paramour, you only want to get free.

“And what’d he call you?” He spits, leaning down and in, inadvertently pressing his thigh between your legs — when his breath grazes the skin of your ear, it causes them to part (against your better judgement). “Got lots of names, right?” He continues to tease, “Heard your boyfriend’s pretty one for you before I shut him up — ‘that fuckin’ slut,’ f’I’m rememberin’ right.”

Despite your rage-shakes, you’re warming at the core, Joel’s pressure against it dizzying your already-addled head. It confuses you, makes the scorn easier to access.

“How did I come up, Miller?” You exhale, jutting your chin towards him. “Couldn’t help asking for all the dirty little details, could you?”

He smiles, and the act lacks any sort of kindness. “‘Lot easier gettin’ him alone once he thought he was meetin’ you.” Joel slams your wrist harder into the wall when you try to wriggle away. “Not sure you wanna keep making that kind of impression, angel.”

It’s hard to rationalize with him so close, as his pet-names echoe inside your head. He’d used your name to enact gang-law violence on a boy who’d been inside you, and yet, all you can think, all you can hear, is the way ‘sweetheart’ sounds tumbling off his lips.

“Fucking let me go, Miller,” you manage to exasperate, resenting the begging edge to every word. “I don’t need another abstinence lecture from you.”

Kicking one ankle off balance, Joel turns you around, pressing your stomach to the wall, your back into his chest. Ignoring your whines and pitiful struggle, he wraps a free hand around your neck, pushing your head against his collarbone. Your stomach erupts with butterflies as the rough pad of his thumb traces the front of your throat.

Yes — no — yes, he wants me — no, no, this is wrong, this is so wrong —

“‘Be wasted on you, anyways,” he says, rough and earnest, like his hand sliding down your chest, your breasts, your stomach, “Startin’ to realize if I can’t fix your dad’s mistakes…” and he’s finding the hem of your skirt and yanking it up, bunching the fabric around your hips —

“Might as well take advantage of them.”

He moves hungrily. He’s everywhere, sliding into your underwear and across your breasts, his big arms and suffocating biceps enveloping your entire frame.

“Joel—”

But he claps a hand over your mouth, silencing any hope of your pleas being effective.

“Think I haven’t seen you? Your lil’ looks…” a low laugh, “n’ those fuckin’ clothes?” God, the rumble, the sheer want in his voice hammers at your initial resistance, and you feel yourself welcoming the feel of his thick, long fingers, sliding between your wet folds. You’re clay, melting against the curved, firm wall of his chest.

You mewl pathetically into his palm.

Another low laugh wracks his lungs, dances at the top of your ear.

“Knew you’d be this wet for me.”

“Knew since you got down on your knees,” Joel continues, uncovering your mouth only to ease a few fingers between your lips — lips that part as though commanded, and a mouth that welcomes and caresses whatever it receives, “‘N opened this pretty lil’ mouth for me to fuck it. Can’t close my eyes without seein’ you like that — so fuckin’ needy.” He exhales from between his teeth, signalling his approval while you suck him down to the knuckles.

His fingers tease your clit and you give him your thanks by pleasuring those of his other hand.

When his hands move, it’s to hold you steady and balanced as he drags your underwear down your legs. That thick, heavy cloud of arousal hides any and all rational thoughts from view.

And he knows. He knows you’re past the point of no return, restraining you only out of his desire to rather than out of a real need to. He knows from the whine you breathe at the loss of his hand against your clit, moving to work at his belt buckle instead.

“Gonna use a condom?” You breathe, emboldened by your clearing senses at the temporary lack of stimulation.

At first, you think he’s missed your taunt.

He backs up, pulling your hips along with him until the tips of your fingers are no longer touching the decaying wall before you. Joel pulls you upright and against him with an arm around your waist and a hand around your throat, turning your head and tilting it back to meet your eyes.

You grasp onto his forearms, failing to stand, unable to breathe. His hardness digs into your back, and his cruel eyes show you just how much pleasure he takes in your struggle.

“Don’t like to waste ‘em,” he finally answers, rocking his cock against your spine, “But I will if you beg. You gonna beg?”

He manipulates your answer, fingers moving to your red-hot core — he barely grazes the nerves, only dancing over the needy flesh. You can’t tear your eyes from him either, tethered to your body through his gaze.

Joel Miller was a frustrating lover.

“N-no,” is your answer, slightly strangled and softly stuttered.

He smiles. “S’what I thought.” Then, “Show me what you can do, angel,” he coos, lips just inches away from yours, his hold on your body relaxing —

“Use your pretty lil’ hands n’ put my cock where you want it most.”

And you both know exactly where that is.

After a nod, Joel allows you to bend forward slowly — it’s like moving through honey. Your legs burn with effort as you reach between your legs to wrap a hand around his thick, hard length.

Christ, he’s huge.

He groans when you touch him and uses his own hand to help guide his tip between your folds. One hand holds your waist, fingers extended under your ribs to support your weight in a skilled show of experience.

With his tip at your aching entrance, you try to lean back, to slide yourself slowly down his many inches.

But Joel doesn’t allow it.

He pushes into you in one go, clicking his tongue at your strangled gasp —

The man hadn’t even bothered to open you up with his fingers.

“Ah, c’mon,” he condescends, “You can take it.”

Then he’s setting a hard pace, hands moving from your hips to your ribs to your biceps to your hair to your neck — anywhere he wanted to go, he went. One eventually comes to the front of your throat, tilting your eyes back and up towards the ceiling. Every one of his thrusts arches your back further until you’re contorting into a half-moon shape, standing only by the grace of his support.

And it feels so good. Joel fills you up to the brim, takes you to heaven and floods your ears with hymns, punishes you in the kind of way you’d only experienced in dreams.

Words tumble out, but they’re filled with nothingness. “Joel,” “fuck,” and “yesohgodyes,” quickly become staples of your vocabulary.

He laughs whenever you sob, grows harder every time you moan, restrains you when you try to run away.

The hand around your throat tightens, digging unforgivably into the flesh as you start to let go, as your walls begin to clench and flutter appreciatively around his cock.

“M’I making you happy, sweetheart? My cock making you smile?” He asks gruffly, pulling you back into his chest. Joel readjusts you into whatever shape you need to be in at the new angle, hips still slamming into your ass. Struggling to stand on your tiptoes, he steadies you with his arms and his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look up into his rugged face.

“Mmhm,” is all you can offer him, the pitch jumping up halfway through when the head of his cock grazes that perfect spot inside your cunt.

He doesn’t let up.

“Show me, baby—” he commands, out of breath, too, but not nearly as tortured as you, “—Show me your smile.”

You do your best, smiling up at him, degrading yourself even more at the hands of Joel-fucking-Miller. And he eats it up, loves the way your grin turns into a bitten lip and knit eyebrows over closed eyes, slowing his thrusts to rock even deeper inside you.

You moan something unintelligible, and a laugh rustles through your tangled hair.

“Am I makin’ you come?”

You nod, feeling that familiar rush of pressure blooming somewhere within that throbbing bundle of nerves under his spell.

He smirks in pride and victory, the last look you get before your head falls against his shoulder, your muscles going lax as the peak builds, as your half-sobs grow louder.

“S’it, baby, tell ‘em,” he coos, nipping and sucking the skin on the side of your throat. “Gonna tell the whole street how you take it like a good lil’ slut.”

His fingers fall to your clit, enticing you right over the edge. You vision blurs and your legs shake, but Joel talks you through your orgasm, sweet nothings starting with, “S’right — show me — yes, fuck — good girl…”

And then —

He stops.

You whine, stars dancing before your eyes as the mean, mean man inside you refuses to fuck you through your climax.

“Joel,” you plead, grinding back against him in a pathetic show of need, “Come with me.”

He does the opposite, sliding himself out of your sore opening. You turn to face him, restoring your balance with hands against his chest, gazing up at him in desire-stricken reproach.

“Use your mouth,” he says, voice gruff at your ruined sight and from his own hand on his cock, keeping his arousal level, “Not gettin’ any more help from me.”

It’s unclear whether ‘help’ means pills or his cock, but you assume both to be safe.

You try to argue (having spent the last few weeks dreaming of Joel dripping down your legs) but he just won’t budge.

Then, his voice softens.

“You know your dad’d kill me, angel.”

And it’s really the sweetness of his tone that does it.

Sinking to your knees, it’s déjà vu when you open wide for him, steadying your shaking knees with both hands on his half clothed, half naked hips. Gravel and debris dig painfully into your bare knees, but you ignore the sting, smiling instead at the taste of yourself on Joel’s cock, lips sliding adoringly down the thick length of it.

He groans his approval, tangling his fingers in your hair to help guide your movements.

As you take him in again and again and again, pleasing every inch of him, he chokes out a laugh.

“Never seen you so quiet,” he muses (mostly to himself), caressing your cheekbone with his free hand —

“Gagged by an old man’s cock.”

You pull off, pumping him with both hands, asking breathlessly, “Are you all so big?”

He smiles, eyes darkening at the dirty compliment. “Give you a few numbers n’ you can tell me.”

God, he’s beautiful from down here.

You hold his attention and lick a slow stripe down the underside of his cock, half-grinning up at his lust-filled expression.

“I only want yours, Joel Miller.”

An uneasy inhale as you take him back in, his brows furrowing and his cock growing impossibly harder. Your words please him, he returns by groaning orders and praises like: “S’all yours, baby — take it all — take aaall that dick — good fuckin’ girl.”

He’s so close and you know it, moaning in submission at his hand’s pressure against the back of your head. With your nose crunched into his abdomen, you hold your throat open for him to use it however he pleases — reduced to nothing more than the man’s plaything.

There’s a low “ah, fuck,” from above, and then you finally know what Joel Miller tastes like.

It’s better than the Plan B.

You hear nothing beyond his recovering breaths, feel nothing past pride, lust, and exhaustion.

Eventually, he loosens his grip. You pull off of him delicately, drawing a groan from between his gritted teeth when you make sure to suck every last drop of his seed into your mouth.

Sitting back on your ankles, you roll your head up to face him.

He swipes a thumb under your lips, clearing the saliva connecting you to his softening cock.

“Still mad at me?” He asks.

You’d be crazy to say yes.

“Only for pulling out.”

You note the twitch at the corner of his mustache.

Joel helps you back on your feet, using one hand to pull you up by your arm and another to arrange himself back to decency.

You adjust your shirt; Joel fixes your skirt. It’s a strange kind of silence settling inside this pocket at the side of a random, ruined building.

Then, your company clears his throat, that mask of seriousness falling over his expression once again.

“You gonna be smart?”

What ever could he mean?

Stay away from him? Stay away from men? Practice abstinence? Use protection?

Either way, you’re not one to make promises you know you can’t keep.

You cross your arms.

“No.”

He sighs.

Well, looks like things are already back to normal.

His face softens and he shakes his head, already regretting his next words. “Just — just come find me, then. I won’t do… this again, but — but I’ll help.”

You frown.

“What do you mean, ‘this’?”

He stares down into your accusatory eyes with a look you’d received many times from him, one screaming, “get real.”

“Fine,” you mutter, breaking eye-contact, “Thank you.”

With a stoic nod, he walks around you, heading back into the night. You try, in vain, to watch him go in silence — god knows you had some thinking to get to — and find that, instead of getting it out of your system, the entanglement had only left you wanting for more.

And more and more.

“Is this what you meant?” and you hear his footsteps halt, “When you told me you’d do worse than kill me? When I tried to hit you?”

It comes out before you can help it, and you twist around to face his still, broad shoulders.

You can hear the smile teasing his lips as he utters the words.

“Why are you askin’ me that?”

Still facing his back, you break into a smile of your own. “So I’ll know what I have to do to get you to do it again.”

You watch him shake his head, grey-streaked ripples in the low light.

“Try your best not to find out, angel.”

With that, he disappears into the darkness, leaving you in the flickering doorway. Thighs aching, heart racing, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the feeling of what it felt to have them taken from you by Joel Miller.

A feeling you’d chase.

—

Put your red boots on

Baby, giddy up

Baby wants a dance

Baby gets her way

Dreamy nights

Talk to me with that whiskey breath

Twirl me twice

I'll treat you like a holiday

And don't say you're over me

When we both know that you ain't

Don't say you're over me

Baby, it's already too late

Just do what you do best with me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like a ballerina, super high

Dance me all around the moon

Light me up like the 4th of July

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When we both know that you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

When you lie down right next to me

Get your jacket on

Be a gentleman

Get into your truck

And pick me up at eight

'Cause we were built for

The long haul freight train

Burnt by fire

Without trial like a stowaway

And don't say you're over me

When they all know that you ain't

If you lay down right next to me

Dance me all around the room

Spin me like ballerina super high

Dance me all around the moon

Like six times 'til I'm sick and I cry

Once, twice, three times

The guy I ever thought I would meet, so

Don't say you're over me

When they all know that you're lying

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

If you lie down right next to me

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie

Lie, you lie

When you lie down right next to me

—

TAGLIST (cont’d in reblogs): @millllenniawrites @inkedells @stardust-chords-enthusiast @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @liviloo12346 @anyas-stuff @readingsunshine97 @maudlinflowers @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @chapterhappygirl @silkiers @jupitersmoon-cal @supernaturaldean67 @peqchsoup @corrodedcherries @hawsx3 @monboudoir @theonewithacrush @pono-pura-vida @fruitcupsworld @mads-grace4 @killerrxger @niallsbunny @snowyarcher @grnherbs @mswarriorbabe80 @tercabed @sweettea-and-honeybutter @bbyanarchist @thisgirl-knm @pedrit0-pascalit0 @redhotkitchen @isitselfishifwetalkaboutmeagain @pseudonymist @goldengrapejuice @soullumii @kamcrazy123 @wclverine

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #dbf!joel miller #tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction

[wandasgf]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS. mdni. 18+.

pairing: mom's best friend!natasha + maximoff!reader

summary: and you wanna scream, don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby"

warnings: angst w/happy ending, post-break up

a/n: i love this little au actually, i need five more of these little redheaded bitches

The living room of your home was quiet save for the incessant tapping of your heel against the ground, a product of the anxious leg bounce you couldn't currently control. Your fist is clenching and unclenching at your side as you silently beg your mother to hurry up. It was monthly movie night, something Natasha and your mother had done since they were freshmen in highschool. It started off weekly, but grew less frequent as they became busier with adulthood. You didn't realize how painful it would be to be so close to Natasha again until Vision had called and asked Wanda if she could pick the boys up from his house. Your mother had left in a huff and left you and Natasha alone.

Natasha’s hand lands on your knee to stop the bouncing and you jolt, standing up and stepping away from her. As much as you love her touch, it was like a jolt of lightning had just passed through your body, and not in a nice way. “Don’t touch me.” Your voice isn't angry, but it's not nice or friendly either and it makes Natasha sigh. “Don't be like that, I know you annoy yourself when you do that. Sit back down, please.”

“No, I don't think I will. I think I’ll go upstairs actually.” You turn towards the direction of the stairs, not even bothering to look at the redhead as you walk by.

“You know your mother will be upset if she gets home and you're not down here.” Natasha catches your arm as you walk by, tugging you to stop. “I know you're mad at me, but please, just sit down. I’ll be gone as soon as the movie's over.”

“I said don't touch me!” You grit your teeth together, pulling your arm from Natasha's grasp. “You know? You know!” Tears start to sting at your eyes because you didn't want to do this tonight. You assumed the redhead would be ‘too busy with work’ to come and that you’d be able to spend the night in the comfort of your mother's arms, trying to forget about the ache in your chest. You assumed you wouldn't come home and have the smile drop from your face at the sight of the only thing you ever wanted but couldn't have standing in your kitchen.

“Y/N…” Natasha’s voice is quiet, like she's trying to coax a child out of a tantrum and it only makes you feel worse. “No, Natasha. You don't get to do this. You don't get to act like you didn't take my heart in your hands and then crush it. You don't get to act like I’m overreacting. You don't get to sit in my living room in my house and tell me what to do. You don't get to say that you know.” Your fists are clenched at your sides and you're trying your very best not to cry but it's not working.

The lump in your throat and the ache in your chest are all consuming and you can't help the tears that fall down your cheeks. “What is it that you think you know? Do you know that I spend every waking moment thinking about the way you said ‘I don't think this is working’? And that I dream about it too? What do you know Natasha?”

“Baby, I—”

“No! No, you don't get to call me that, you don't.” You wipe at the tears on your cheeks, trying to stop them before your mother gets home. “I have to– I can't be here, just… just say I went to Kate’s. I have to go.” You don't notice Natasha standing or walking towards you in your rush to leave until she's tugging on your shoulder to turn you around.

“Stop, stop! Just stop okay? Let me talk.” You open your mouth to speak and Natasha holds her hands up, “no more touching, you're right, I’m sorry. Just let me talk, please.” You take a shuddering breath and then nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as if attempting to shield yourself from whatever weapons Natasha had.

“I shouldn't have ended things, not like that.” Your gaze dropping to the ground makes her realize her mistake and she curses under her breath, running a hand through her hair. “That came out… wrong. I shouldn't have ended things at all. I should have talked to you, I should have talked to Wanda, I should have done anything but that and I’m sorry.”

Natasha looks toward the front door when she hears a car pull into the driveway and she braces herself for what's going to happen in only a few minutes. “I love you and I want things to work, okay? I was…” she takes a breath, “I was scared to lose both you and Wanda if she ever found out. We’re not.. I’m a lot older than you and I don't know how Wanda would react if she found out. You're right, I didn't know what I said I did, but if you're willing to let me fix this, I can tell you that I do know one thing. I know that I love you. Your mom might kill me when she finds out, but I think that's a chance I’m willing to take. What do you think?”

#alice's drabbles ! #alice's fics ! #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanoff x reader

[jpmarvel90]

Don't Belong part 2

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Part 1

Word Count: 5499

Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader

Summary: After Y/n's accident on her mission, her mother's are terrified that they might not get the chance to make things right with their daughter. That's assuming Y/n wants anything to do with them when she comes around.

Nat: Mama Wanda: Mom

Nat's POV:

It's been over 24 hours since Y/n came out of surgery and she's still unconscious with a machine helping her breathe. I thought she would have been awake by now and there'd be a relief that she was on the start of her long road to recovery.

Instead, Wanda and I are glued to our seats next to her bed. We've only gotten up to use the bathroom. Otherwise, we've remained by her side. Pepper kindly offered to take the boys for as long as it's needed. Though they are both very anxious to see Y/n themselves. They might be young, but they understand that she's hurt. They love their sister, and they want her to wake up just as much as we do.

I've not slept since we found out that she was hurt, and I don't plan to until she is awake. Though the longer it goes on, the more my body is fighting against that desire. I want to be there when she wakes up to show her that her moms are going to be there for her the whole way through her recovery.

Wanda and I have spoken a lot over the last day. We've shared our pain and sadness, whilst making sure we come up with a plan to help her with her recovery and to ultimately gain her forgiveness.

We both know that Y/n will not forgive us easily, if at all. But that doesn't mean that we're not going to try with everything in us. For too long we've allowed her to go about her life thinking that we don't love or care for her anymore. She has every right to feel that way after how we've treated her. But she will not ever question that again.

The both of us are sat in silence, both of us watching over our daughter. My eyes are trained on her chest, making sure that she is still breathing, gaining a lot of comfort from the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. However, the silence doesn't last long until the door flies open.

Out of instinct, both Wanda and I shoot up from our seats and take a defensive stance in front of our daughter to protect her from any danger. However, we soon relax when we see Yelena's worried face. "I came as soon as I could." She tells us as she moves closer to the bed, her hand hesitant as it reaches out towards her niece.

Yelena has been away for most of the time over the last few years. She's been helping to find all the widows and has only come back for a couple of days at a time. Each time though, she has always made time for us. "How is she?" She asks, as I pull up another chair for my sister.

"It's not good. She's still in critical condition. They had to remove part of her liver, but Cho reckons that if she can get through these first few days, that she'll be on track for a full recovery." I fill her in as her eyes never leave Y/n. "Clint said that it was a double agent that set her up." She states and we nod in clarification. "I'll be paying a visit to Fury when I'm done here." She announces, an anger to her voice. "We've tried to see him, but Fury won't let us anywhere near him." Wanda warns her but Yelena just scoffs. "I'll get to him one way or another." She states and I believe her. She's incredibly protective of the people she loves, and she'll want to make sure that he pays. I actually hope that she does.

"Wait, you said you were with Clint?" I question her and she nods. "Yeah, he was with me on my last mission. He's waiting outside, he didn't want to intrude." She responds, pointing towards the window behind her where Clint is stood with a young girl next to him. "Who's with him?" I ask. "Kate Bishop. Clint's stray. He's going to see if she can join Shield." Yelena explains. "She was with us and had no where else to go so I said she could stay here for now." She adds on. If Clint thinks she's worthy of Shield, then I believe that she is. She must also be good if Yelena has been working with her. She wouldn't let anyone help who would slow her down.

"How long are you back for?" Wanda steps in with her own question, making my own ears prick up for her response. "As long as I need to be. I want to be around to help with her recovery." Yelena replies, making me smile. Y/n is going to need all the help she can get, and she adores Yelena, so I'm glad that she's not going anywhere any time soon.

After a while, we indicate for Clint and Kate to come in. We go through our introduction, and I can see how enthusiastic Kate is. She's very chatty and I'm surprise she's not pissed off Clint and Yelena yet though! "I read about Y/n in the Young Initiative files." Kate shares. "Did you know she is the only recruit to ever get a perfect score. She could have passed the exams two years ago and still topped the class." She tells us enthusiastically. "Sounds like you're a fan." Yelena teases her, making the young girl blush. "I guess when your parents are the Black Widow and the Scarlett Witch, you're going to be good." Kate chuckles.

It makes my gaze drop, something that Yelena clocks on to instantly. She's not been around so hasn't seen how we've treated Y/n. I'm actually worried for when I tell her. She's going to hate us for it and I'd be surprised if she even lets us stay around Y/n. "Y/n did it all on her own. With a little help from Steve. Her talent has come from her own ability and desire to be the best." Wanda corrects Kate, showing that we have no claim to how good Y/n is at being an agent. "Oh, that's even more impressive then. You must be really proud." She smiles at us and we both nod. "More than she'll ever know." I mutter.

__________

When Kate and Clint leave, Yelena is quick to question Wanda and I. We tell her of what's been going on and how ashamed we are and how much we want to be able to fix everything. "You don't deserve to fix it." She spits angrily at us. "It's no excuse to say that you got lost in the boys. Y/n is your daughter too and she needed you." She shouts, calling us both out on our actions. "We know Yelena. We can't take back how we've treated her. But I promise that we won't every do anything like that again!" I tell her sincerely. "No, you won't. I won't let you. If you are going to be back in her life as the parents you should have been, you have to be all in. You promised to be better than we had Natasha!" She tells me firmly with a finger jabbing into my chest.

"I know Yelena. I wish I had a valid excuse or reason for what we did. I will never forgive myself. I will always have a hatred towards myself for ever making her feel the way we did. But I'm not going to wallow and hide away from it. I want to own up to the mistake and try and fix it. I know that it's not going to be an easy fix, but I will stay here and face the brunt of the anger and pain that she's feeling because I will not give up on her. Not again." I tell her passionate. "Neither of us will. I promise you Yelena, we will do everything in our power to fix this." Wanda steps up and adds her own promise, taking my hand. At least we have each other through all of this.

Yelena doesn't speak, she just looks between the two of us, her chest heaving with anger. It's intimidating to be the one on the receiving end, but we deserve it. I'm glad that Yelena is here. She simple nods her head and that is the subject over with. For now.

That night, my body ultimately wins, and I end up getting a couple of hours sleep. Though it's full of nightmares that I can't seem to escape and then when I wake up, I'm terrified that Y/n will be awake already and I'll have missed it. But when my body wakes with a jolt, I'm met with my sleeping wife and still unconscious daughter.

I stretch out and move closer to the bed and take Y/n's bruised hand in my own. "I can't lose you. You are my daughter, blood or not and I love you so much. I know I haven't shown that to you and there is no excuse for that. I also know that you have every right to never forgive me. So, my only request, is please wake up. Please survive. I don't think I can live in a world without you in it." I plead with her. Hoping that somewhere in her subconscious she can hear me. I squeeze her hand, hoping for any response, but nothing comes.

The day goes by slower than usual. That is until Cho comes in to check on Y/n and gives us the good news that she should be able to breathe without the ventilator now. Wanda and I step outside as we watch through the window. We're holding on to each other tightly as we watch. "This is good. She's strong and this is the first step to her waking up." Wanda speaks. I can hear the hesitation in her voice, showing that she is trying to convince herself more than anything. "You're right. She is so strong. I know she's going to wake up soon." I add on, smiling at my wife.

Cho soon joins us with a smile. "She's doing well. She's now breathing easily on her own. I expect she'll wake up within a few hours. I'll be back to do a full examination then so we can assess her injuries." She informs us. I feel a sense of relief wash over me. Hopefully it won't be long until our daughter is back with us.

The next couple of hours seems to drag by. Clint, Yelena and Kate all paid another visit but left to try and sort a room out for Kate in the compound. Steve was then the next to join us, taking a seat at the end of Y/n's bed. It's a long wait until we finally see a twitch to Y/n's eye.

I'm the first to my feet, leaning over to see if I had imagined the small movement. "Y/n, honey. It's mama. Can you hear me?" I ask her, fighting off the tears threatening to fall. With a flutter, her blues eyes lock on to mine. "She squeezed my hand." Wanda says excitedly. "Baby, we're here." She tells Y/n, who's got a confused look in her eyes.

"You're in the medical wing sweetheart. You got shot on your mission." I explain to her. "S-t-Steve." She stutters out. "He's fine. He's here." I reassure her, waving for Steve to come closer. "Hey kiddo. Boy we're glad to see you awake." He tells her with a relived smile. One that she returns. "I'll got and get Dr Cho." Wanda states, quickly leaving the room. "T-the m-mission." Y/n starts but Steve is quick to stop her. "Is not to worry about right now. Just know it wasn't your fault. But we'll explain it when you're doing better." He tells her, earning a nod. She reaches out her hand to Steve and he instantly takes it. "You're not allowed to scare us like that again." He chuckles, his voice wavering.

"S-sorry." She replies, her eyes fluttering again. "It's ok sweetheart. Don't fight it if you want to sleep again." I tell her softly. She doesn't really acknowledge me, but she does seem to listen as her eyes flutter shut once again.

They don't stay closed for long though, soon woken up by Cho as she comes in with a wide smile. "There's my favourite patient." She smiles at Y/n, who grins in return. "I bet you s-say that to e-everyone." Y/n responds through a struggled chuckle. "But with you I actually mean it." Cho winks, before looking over Y/n's chart and obs.

She takes the time to explain Y/n's injuries to her and the plan for her recovery. I see her face drop when she realises she's going to be in the hospital for at least another week before being on strict bed rest when she's discharged. "I'll be around if you need anything or have any questions. So please get one of the nurses to get me if you need me. That goes for all of you." Dr Cho offers. "Thank you. For everything." I tell her sincerely. She gives me a tightly smile before turning on her heel and leaving the three of us too it.

With Cho gone, it's silent in the med bay as Wanda, Steve and I just watch over Y/n. She is struggling to keep her eyes open, but I can see a pain in them when they lock on to mine. "You should get some rest kiddo." Steve speaks up as Y/n nods in return. "W-will you s-stay?" She asks, making Steve smile widely. "Of course." He returns, moving to get another chair to sit with us. At that confirmation, Y/n seems comfortable enough to let her eyes close and for sleep to take back over.

It's almost agony to see her asleep once again. We've been waiting for so long for her to wake up, for her to be asleep so soon is tough. I almost want to start apologising and showing her that we're going to change and it's going to stick. But I don't want to overwhelm her. At the moment, her recovery is the most important thing. As much as I hate it, earning her forgiveness will have to wait.

"Now she's awake, you two should head to your apartment. See the twins, eat some proper food, and get some sleep. I can stay with her." Steve offers, but I'm quick to decline. "I don't want to leave her." I tell him, whilst gripping her hand tighter, my eyes not leaving her sleeping form. Steve lets out a sigh. "She'll be asleep for a while, and she needs you both on top form." He tells us.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up to see Wanda smiling warmly at me. I hadn't even noticed that she had moved from the other side of the bed. "Steve's right. We've been here for days. If we want to do what's right by Y/n, then we need to look after ourselves as well." She speaks sense.

With a huff I stand from my seat and lean forward to press a kiss to Y/n's head. "We'll be back later sweetheart. I love you so much." I tell her softly then move so that Wanda can say goodbye too. With one last look to our daughter, we both reluctantly leave. Though I smile when I see Steve move closer and take Y/n's hand in his own. Although I will forever regret how we have treated Y/n, I'm glad that she has had Steve there for her.

Y/n's POV:

Well, that was not how I wanted my first mission to go. I wanted to impress everyone, not end up in the med bay with part of my liver missing! Waking up was a weird experience. Seeing my parents' faces were the last thing I expected to see. They seem genuinely worried, but that was probably all a front for everyone else. They can't be seen to not care about the daughter they've ignored for the last few years.

When I wake up next, I see Steve smile down at me. "You're still here." I say and he nods. "Of course. I wanted to make sure that you're ok." He replies, making my own smile grow. I look around and my smile drops when I see that my moms aren't here. I can't hide that it hurts a little that they didn't stick around. But I shouldn't care about that. They haven't cared about me.

"Should have guessed they would go once I woke up." I complain, wincing as I try to adjust myself in bed. "Careful Y/n/n." Steve scolds me as he shoots to his feet to help adjust my pillows. "I told them to go." He admits and I look at him with a frown. "Not like that. But they have not left your side since you were brought in. They weren't looking after themselves and if they are going to help you through your recovery, they need to be at 100%" He explains but I just scoff.

"I don't need their help with my recovery. They didn't care before I was hurt, they don't get to care now." I groan. Steve takes his seat again and looks at me with his, "I know I'm right" look. "Y/n. I know you don't believe it, but they do care for you. They were cut up when you got hurt. They were devastated that they wouldn't have the chance to be able to make things up to you." He says. I roll my eyes, but he continues. "Look, I'm not saying you have to forgive them. But you can't question how much they have cared for you over the last few days."

"Fine, but I'm not going back to their place to recover." I huff, folding my arms. "Considering you've been shot and in a medically induced coma for the last few days, it's good to see it hasn't affected your attitude." Steve teases.

We sit in silence as I think about my parents. They surely can't think that just because they've been sat beside my bed whilst I've been hurt is going to make up for everything that they have done over the years? Who's to say that they won't go back to how they were once I'm healed? I have a place at Sheild now. Somewhere that I can make a name for myself and create my own family.

"I'm sorry I messed up the mission." I break the silence, my mind now moving on to the fact I failed at my first mission. "You didn't fail anything kiddo. We were set up. If anything, I should apologise to you. They were after me, but you were the one to get hurt. You did a great job of take on as many agents as you did." He explains, taking my hand in his. "You fought, and it's because of your skill and ability that you're alive. You impressed everyone." He assures me, running his thumb over my bruised knuckles.

Our moment is broken when my moms walk back in. "You're awake!" Mom says excitedly as both her and mama move into the room quickly. Steve moves back from my side, which I frown at as mama takes my hand in hers. I'm quick to pull it away. The hurt that flashes across her face doesn't go unnoticed, but I'm not in the mood to pretend like everything is ok right now.

"How are you feeling?" Mom asks, appearing to my left. "I'm fine." I respond shortly, receiving a warning raised eyebrow from Steve. "Are you in pain? I can get the nurse to come in and get you some pain killers." Mom fusses. "I'm fine." I repeat the same words. "That's not true, you've been wincing since you've woken up." Steve rats me out. Traitor. "If a 40 calibre bullet went through you, I'm sure you'd be wincing too." I snap. "Told you. Amazing how your attitude hasn't changed." Steve chuckles.

However, both my mom's look at me with worried looks. "I'm going to get Dr Cho. You look pale." Mom worries before rushing out the room.

Mama reaches forward and places her hand on my head, which I quickly try and move away from her touch. "You're hot. I hope you're not running a fever." She states. "Like you care." I mumble, but she hears it and that look of hurt appears on her face again. "Look Y/n. I know you believe that we don't care or love you. But that couldn't be further from the truth. I want nothing more than to talk to you about it and start to make up for everything. But right now, all that matters is your recovery. You can hate us and ignore us or yell at us, but we are not going anywhere." She states firmly, her eyes locked on to mine. I just roll my eyes and turn to look at Dr Cho who has walking into the room.

She checks me over and I notice the frown on her face. "What's up?" I question. "I'm worried about your temperature. I want to run some tests, but with the inflammation to your incision, I'm worried you've got an infection. It's nothing to worry about as we've caught it early. But we'll need to keep a close eye on you." She replies. "So, no discharge yet then." I huff.

Cho chuckles and looks up from my chart. "It's funny you think you were close even without this infection." She teases. "Aren't you meant to be nice to me? I'm a patient after all." I pout. "If I'm on good behaviour, can I get out early?" I plead. "Maybe in a week. But you'll be on strict bed rest and need to be cared for. You're still technically a minor." Cho breaks the news and I know exactly what she's getting at. "But I'm 18 in like 4 days! Besides, I literally got shot on a mission for Shield. Surely that's enough?" I argue.

"Y/n, you are going to struggle to walk, let alone be able to properly look after yourself. Even after you're 18, you'll need support during your recovery. It isn't a simple road ahead for you." Dr Cho returns. "So, what are you saying?" I get straight to the point. "I'm recommending that you are discharged to your family. You'll be in the compound so if anything goes wrong, you can get the right medical attention straight away." She explains. "Really? There are no other options. Can't I stay with Steve or something?" I ask but she shakes her head.

"Y/n, come on. It's what is best for you. Your moms will be there to help. I'll be away on missions so can't give you the care you need." Steve speaks up, but soon shrinks back as I glare at him. "Really, what makes you think that I'll get the care I need at home?" I growl, my anger building. "Y/n..." Mama starts but I cut her off. "No! You can't just stand there and act like the caring parents when you have done nothing to back that claim up. I've been the forgotten daughter for years! Slowly I have been pushed out this family and now you want me to just act like everything is ok and trust that you'll look after me?!" I yell, that frustration finally finding its way out.

"Y/n, you need to calm down. Your heartrate is getting too high." Dr Cho tries to calm me down. "Kiddo. You're ok. You need to give them a chance." Steve tries to reason. "A chance like I was given? I've practically raised myself these last few years!" I snap. Why is he suddenly defending them?!

"Please sweetheart. You're going to make yourself sicker. We want to be there for you. We're not denying how badly we've treated you. But I promise that it will never happen again. You'll be safe with us. We just want to be able to care for you and help you get to full health." Mama speaks, her eyes filled with tears. I look between her, and mom and I see that she's almost inconsolable. "Do I have a choice?" I sigh, turning to Cho. "Technically, yes. But physically, you won't be able to follow through with it." She breaks the bad news. Suddenly the sounds of my heart monitor becomes noticeable so I lie back and take a couple of deep breaths. I can feel all their eyes on me, and I let out a sigh. "Fine whatever." I respond. I just need to do everything that Cho tells me so I can heal as fast as possible and move back to Shield and start my life again.

__________

The next few days are not fun. My infection hit me pretty hard, and I spent a lot of time either sweating or freezing whilst fighting the urge to throw up. I hate being stuck in this bed and I just want to be healthy again and being able to go on missions. Before it went south, I was loving it. Even if it was just a small one.

I'm also finding it hard that my mothers are suddenly around all the time. Mama is much better at not smothering me. Mom on the other hand, she is always fussing. But that's her and I used to love it when I was younger, when she actually cared about my wellbeing. "Wands, she's already said she has enough pillows." Mama sighs, her own frustrations growing. "Yes, sorry you did." Mom apologises, slowly putting the pillow down she had in her hands.

"Can I get you anything else? Some food. Though the food here is pretty horrible. When you're back home, I'll make sure to cook you something tasty with the food you're allowed to eat." She starts to ramble. I'm not going to lie, that does sound amazing, and I'd kill for a bowl of paprikash right now. I remember when mom taught me how to cook it. It was one of the last memories I have of us spending quality time together.

I don't realise I'm smiling until I see both my parents looking at me warmly. I quickly shake it off, not wanting to let them think that I'm enjoying this in the slightest. "You know what. A sandwich would be good." I say, taking them both by surprise. I've not been very talkative, but I could do with a break right now. I know I won't be able to get rid of both of them, but I can at least take a break from mom fussing.

"Of course. I'll go and make you something up and bring it down. The bread is always dry here." She speaks, grabbing a couple of things and turning to leave. "Maybe I'll check with Cho if you could have a smoothy." She mumbles, making mama chuckle as she leaves.

I let out a breath of relief. I feel slightly less suffocated. But I am still very aware of mama's eyes boring into me. I'm used to her being quiet. She always observes, making her conclusions before talking when it's necessary. But seeing her now, it feels different. I'm pretty good at reading people and I can tell that she is lost in her own thoughts. I've only seen her like it a couple of times before and it's been after particularly difficult missions. Ones that bring up bad memories for her.

I grab the TV remote and try and find something to watch. I end up with Rizzoli and Isles on. I don't really watch it, but the sound is helping to break the awkward silence. Just after they break the case in the show, I notice mama sit more upright in her seat.

"When I found you in Hydra, I knew instantly that I wanted to help you. There was something about you that melted my heart. When we found out that you had no family to return you to, it wasn't even a question, I knew I was going to adopt you. In that short space of time, I had spent with you, I grew to love you." She starts. I don't look to her, my focus on the TV.

"Even though you had been through so much, you had this happiness around you. You were grateful for everything and found the joy in the smallest thing. I just wanted to give you a life that you deserved. When I married Wanda, I was so happy that I could give you two loving parents." From the corner of my eye, I can see her smile tearily as she picks at the skin around her fingers.

"I failed you Y/n. When I adopted you, I promised that I would be the best parent to you. That you would never want for anything. What's worse, is I never even noticed what I was doing. What we were both doing. I've always prided myself on being able to read people, but I couldn't see the damage I was doing to my own daughter." She continues, pain evident in her voice.

"I wish I could go back in time to change how we acted with you. To include you fully with the twins, to support you in your work in the Shield Programme. To show that even with the boys, you were loved and an integral part of this family. All I can do is apologise and promise that we are not going to let that happen again." She finishes, finally look up to me, a couple of tears falling down her cheeks.

"It's been years. We're not just talking about a couple of months here." I speak up, still not able to lock eyes with her. "Steve became more of a parent for me than the two of you." I admit, and that seems to make mama's heart break a little more. "Is it because I'm not biologically yours and moms?" I ask, my voice shaking.

Mama is quickly to her feet and takes my hand in between both of hers. "No. Of course not Detka, and I will forever hate myself that I've allowed you to think otherwise." She tries to reassure me, a panic in her eyes. "I wish I could give you a reason for why we acted like we did. Initially, it was because we were so focused on the boys, but after that, I have no idea. I wish I could pinpoint why, maybe it would make this all easier. I know you probably don't believe it, but I love you as much as those boys. Blood doesn't matter to me. You are my daughter as much as they are my sons. I know and feel that through every fibre of my body." She expresses. The sincerity is evident in both her voice and facial expressions. "Saying sorry isn't going to fix this. You only knew what you were doing because I called you out on it. Had I not gotten shot, would you have made any effort to rectify what was wrong?" I question her, my anger growing.

"We wanted to. We were planning on taking you to breakfast to talk and work out a way that we could make things right with you. But you had gone, and we couldn't get to you. You have a lot of people at Sheild that love you." She chuckles humourlessly. That is true. Maria is like an aunt to me and her and Fury happily kept my room allocation secret, "Look, I know that we don't deserve your forgiveness, but it doesn't mean that we are going to stop trying." She states firmly.

"It's not that simple mama. I have learnt to live without you now and I've got my own place with Shield. We can both move on with you getting your perfect biological family and I get the career I want." I say, but that only makes mama cry more. "No, our family is only perfect if you are in it too!" She almost shouts, but she's quick to calm herself down. "Look, we've got to live together through your recovery, let's just see how things go after that ok." She proposes. "Fine, but I can't promise anything will change." I respond and she nods. "I know. But I'm going to try everything to earn your forgiveness." She comes back with a newfound confidence.

We fall back into a silence, one that feels more comfortable. Mama looks less stressed, but her brow is still furrowed. When mom returns, the quiet is broken again, despite mama trying to get her to calm down. I try not to smile when she tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I miss this caring side of my parents so much. But for me, it's too little, too late.

Taglist: @reggierizzoli @ordelixx @mousetheorist

#marvel fanfiction #natasha romanoff #avengers fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #marvel #avengers #romanoff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat x reader

[marvelfilth]

The Witches Trap

Part 2

Pairing: dark!Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

Warnings: ghosts, description of death, paranormal activity, gore, blood, a bit of horror ig, typical ghost hunting stuff, nothing too scary tho

Words: 5.5k

Summary: you go ghost hunting with Peter, Yelena and Kate. What could go wrong?

A/n: first time trying out some spooky stuff, so bear with me. Heavily inspired by Sam and Coby on YT.

Masterlist

The way Yelena drives is far from smooth and sound, but she vehemently refuses to let Peter behind the wheel, so here you are, yelping and griping the sides of the driver's seat headrest like your life depends on it. You hiss when your head meets the roof, and Kate sends you another toothy smile from the front seat, her eyes flickering to look at Yelena every few minutes. You look to your right to check on Peter, but he is busy fumbling with equipment, his camera carefully stored away in a bag as he keeps checking the microphone.

You sigh and relax against the seat when the road finally smoothes out, and think about why you even agreed to this. Peter asked you to tag along for a new video for his YouTube channel, and by asked you mean begged you with his best puppy eyes and a bag of goodies in his hands. Apparently, if you agreed to go, Kate will go too. And if Kate goes, he won't even have to ask Yelena.

He was right.

So now the four of you are on the way to one of the most haunted places of America - Westview hotel.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Yelena asks, turning her head left and right.

"Yes," Peter answers, glancing up for a second.

"Honestly, this is too creepy already," Kate mumbles, her eyes locked on the numerous dolls pinned to the trees surrounding the road.

"The owner probably made someone do that. No way they had this type of dolls back in the eighteenth century." You try to reassure Kate as much as yourself.

"Actually, the first doll like that was made-" Peter finally looks up with an excited glint in his eyes, and you immediately press your palm against his mouth, "No. I don't need to know that."

"Ha! Little Y/n is scared," Yelena laughs, but her laughter is cut short when a twig hits the side window, making her shriek like a maniac.

"This never happened," she grumbles when the laughter finally dies out.

Relaxing against the seat you try to remember everything Peter told you about this hotel.

It got notoriously famous in the late eighties, when a high schooler got possessed by a demon and later died in a psych ward. The room the girl stayed in was closed off for twenty years after that. You wonder if Peter managed to book it.

Another thing you remember is numerous sightings of a dark, cloaked figure appearing in most random places, whether it's a supply closet or a presidential suite. It always managed to scare the shit out of anyone who was unfortunate enough to catch its interest. You shudder at the mere thought of encountering that particular entity.

"We're here," Yelena cuts off the ignition, and leans against the wheel to take a look at the building.

Your breath catches in your throat the second your eyes land on the magnificent hotel. At seven stories high it stands proudly on a hill, overlooking the vast grounds. The facade is noticeably worn, but no less majestic - a blend of dark wood and stone, a balcony stretching along its entire length. A dark figure on the corner of the rooftop makes you squint, and you gasp when you realize it's a gargoyle, albeit a very rickety one. You make a note to yourself not to walk under it.

Yelena ushers you along, shuddering as she notices the stone figures. “The air here is kinda thick,” she mutters.

You nod, feeling your chest tighten. She's right - the air grows heavier with each step you take. You hope the hotel itself is ventilated enough.

When you finally step inside you take a deep breath, looking around the foyer and spotting who you presume is the owner.

"Welcome to Westview Hotel! My name's Agatha, I'm the owner of this happy little place and your guide for today. Hope you have the worst time of your life here!" Her voice is too cheerful for the late hours, and you cringe at the full on villainous laugh she lets out.

Peter goes to speak with the woman while the rest of you look around. Yelena plops on the loveseat, her backpack thrown on the carpeted floor near her feet, and Kate just stands beside you with her mouth hanging open - you're sure you're wearing a similar expression.

While the outside of the hotel looked somewhat old and weathered, the inside completely blows you away with its beauty. It's elegant, if a bit eerie, with a grand chandelier and high arches that make the space feel even bigger.

You frown, sensing someone's eyes on you, and notice Peter glancing in your direction every so often. You send him a questioning look, but he only shakes his head, his lips pressed together and his cheeks puffed.

"Do you think he's going to sacrifice one of us to that witch? Scarlet Witch, right?" Yelena muses.

"Yeah, but I don't think you're her type." Kate winks at the blonde.

You snicker at her annoyed expression, and stumble back, accidentally bumping into someone. You turn around, an apology on your tongue, only to choke on your words when you are met with an empty lobby.

Your friends stare at you quizzically, but Agatha seems to be lost in thought, her eyes trained on the space right above your shoulder, then she slightly shakes her head, her lips pressed in a tight line.

"Sorry. I thought I bumped into someone…" You trail off, your back burning, an eerie feeling settling in your stomach.

"Sure thing, buttercup." Agatha winks at you, her mood changed back to normal in an instant.

You shudder, looking back at your friends. Yelena whispers something in Kate's ear that causes the younger one to chuckle, and Peter has his camera pointed at you.

"We already got some paranoid activity ten minutes into the night," he blabbers behind the camera, motioning for you to explain what happened.

"Um... It felt like I bumped into someone?" Talking to a camera is weird, but you manage to explain what you felt. "... I think it was nothing though, just my nerves acting up." You force a chuckle, your eyes moving to meet Agatha's stare.

She moves closer to be in the frame, and tells everyone about how much the Scarlet Witch loves to mess with younger women, her favorite pastime in this hotel seems to be entertaining the ladies. However, her idea of entertainment slightly differs from yours, and you gulp when Agatha mentions her choking sleeping guests and locking them in elevators.

"This is going to be incredible, guys," Peter says to the camera, his excitement too contagious for you to worry about your safety.

×××

The next two hours are spent walking behind Agatha and listening to her stories about various tragic deaths that occured in this hotel over the past hundreds of years. She stops every ten minutes or so in front of different rooms, each story worse than the previous one, and you shudder when she tells you a story of a woman buried alive in one of the walls, Agatha's hand casually resting on said wall.

She is telling you another story about a guy that danced on a ledge to impress a girl and fell on one of the spikes in the lobby, when you suddenly feel a tug in your chest. You stop, checking to see if anyone else felt that. Kate is staring at the ledge with her mouth wide open, Peter's busy filming Agatha and butting in with commentary (much to Agatha's displeasure), and Yelena grips Kate's hand so hard, you are sure she couldn't possibly see anything other than the wall in front of her.

You exhale and look around, trying to spot anything interesting, even though you've been looking at the same set of stairs for the past ten minutes. Strangely enough, you notice a door that surely wasn't there before, because you would've noticed it right away if it was.

While every part of this hotel was renovated, this door looks like it belongs in the past, with heavy iron hinges and a weird looking handle. There are no signs on the door, nor any numbers or words, and when something tugs on your hand, you follow the feeling.

You walk almost in haze, your friends' voices blurred in the background, unfamiliar warmth surrounding you, your chest lighter than it ever was and your mind in a euphoric state. You turn the knob and it gives in, the door rattling loudly as you tug it open, but before you could even glimpse inside, a hand slaps harshly on the wood, the door closing with a loud creak.

You blink owlishly, warmth gone and your head suddenly clear, as you take in Agatha's furious expression.

"It says 'Employees only'," she hisses through gritted teeth, and you step away from the woman.

"No, it doesn't, there's noth-" you choke on your words when you look back at the door, because now it looks like every other door in the room, 'Employees only' written in bold.

You look back at Agatha and apologize, but it seems like she doesn't hear you, her brows furrowed and her eyes flickering between you and the door.

"Okay that's hella creepy," Kate breaks the silence, her unoccupied hand digging in a pocket of her jeans to present a cross. "God will protect us." She puts it around her neck, and nods to herself.

"You don't even believe in God." Yelena jams her in the ribs, not letting go of the brunette's hand.

"You really should," Agatha casually advises, tugging at your elbow to move you further away from the door, "follow me, I'm going to tell you the story of the Scarlet Witch."

You cast one last look at the door and follow her down the hall to the very last room, something warm pressing at the low of your back to lead you. Shuddering at the feeling, you wonder why it is only you who feels something weird. Kate keeps sending you worried looks, but, other than that, she seems okay with Yelena's hand pressed firmly into her side. Peter isn't fazed at all, excitingly recording everything in sight.

Exhaling, you try to relax. If something here wants to harm you it wouldn't use such a gentle approach.

Or maybe it's just luring you in.

When you finally stop in front of room number 208 you feel a poke in your ribs, Yelena nods her head for you to look at Agatha, and you confusedly look up. Apparently, she wants you to open the door. Gulping, you move forward, your hand reaching on its own accord. You turn the doorknob with some hesitation, your hand trembling slightly. When you're met with a sight of a regular hotel room, you let out a quiet breath.

The walls are painted an unassuming beige, with green and brown accents, the earth tones bringing a feeling of calm. The four poster bed is pushed against the farthest wall, with nightstands on either side, and you could already imagine how soft it would feel to sleep in it. But the only thing that truly gets your attention is a floor to ceiling window and a french door, which hopefully leads to a balcony you spotted from the outside.

Agatha walks past you into the room, resting her weight against the foot of the bed. "It was locked," her eyes seem to be glued to yours as she speaks, "second locked door you opened today. I find that… interesting."

You are aware of Peter's camera being shoved right in your face, you're aware of Kate's hand reassuringly clasping your own, aware of Yelena's calming presence, but you are focused on something else entirely. There is this feeling again, now familiar warmth taking root in your chest, almost singing to you. You briefly close your eyes, savoring the sensation, wishing you could feel more.

"This is our most active room," Agatha says, "last year some teenagers decided to use a Ouija board in here and it got even worse. So you're in for a wild ride."

"This is nuts," Kate says from the other side of the room, trailing her hand over the painting of a burning witch.

"Oh, this actually happened here," Agatha drawls, taking note of your surprised faces, "almost a hundred young alleged witches were burnt at the stake here, on these grounds…" Agatha continues on with the story, but your eyes are stuck on Kate, on the other side of the room, your body frozen in shock. You can still feel what you thought was Kate's hand on your own, but with her standing on the other side of the room, and Yelena looking at you like you've grown two heads, you decide it's enough.

"Can you tell them to stop?" you shriek, stepping further into the room.

The warm feeling in your chest intensifies, the ghost of a hand sliding up your arm to settle on your cheek, turning your head to look at the painting. It's so gentle, so soft, it makes you lean your head in search of more.

"Them?" Agatha's voice grounds you. "I believe there's only one witch who is interested in you."

"What's going on?" Kate asks, moving away from the painting. Panic starts to rise in your chest, making you struggle to breathe. "Y/n, are you okay?" Kate's by your side in an instant, hands rubbing your sides, and you lay your head on her shoulder, silently reminding yourself that no ghost can hurt you.

"I thought you were standing beside me, I felt you take my hand, but you were on the other side of the room," you whisper against her shoulder.

"No. We're going back home." Yelena pales and tugs at your elbow, smacking the back of Peter's head with her other arm. "Your idiotic idea is going to give her a heart attack," she hisses and leads you to the door, hurriedly turning the knob.

It doesn't turn.

"What the fuck." She tries to open it again, and again, and again, until Agatha gets pissed and yells at her for trying to break the door.

"If she wants you to stay, you'll stay." She places her palm on the wooden door, and gives everyone a stern look.

"Say the word and I'll break that door open." Peter reappears by your side, looking guilty as ever, his camera now hidden away.

You take a deep breath and look around, now feeling much safer with all of your friends (and Agatha) by your side. The room looks like no one has touched it in years, and the warm, calming feeling in your chest only intensified after your little break down.

Maybe the witch just wants some company.

You meet Peter's eyes and manage a smile. "I survived Yelena's driving, I'm sure I'll be fine after this."

"Are you sure?" Yelena and Peter ask you at the same time.

"Yes, guys, I'm fine. I'm just not used to it like you are," you smile at Peter, and he nods in understanding.

He spent his college years filming in haunted places, a little hobby turned into a full time job as his channel grew bigger and bigger. Usually he invites his friend Wade to film together, but this time he really wanted you to come.

"Glad we settled that. Now sit," Agatha commands.

You take a seat on the bed, Yelena and Kate immediately placing their arms around you. Peter settles in a comfortable looking chair by the window, and Agatha stays standing, clearing her throat before venturing into the story of the Scarlet Witch.

"I'm sure you know that being a redhead, green-eyed, and exceptionally smart young woman in the 17th century meant one thing."

"Barbecue," Yelena mumbles, earning a scathing glare from the older woman.

"Yes. But here's the thing - the Scarlet Witch was never burned at the stake, and not because she was so good at staying hidden, but because she has never had a physical presence in this world, at least one that we know of. There's no proof of her existence, no paintings and no pictures, no sightings either."

Yelena shifts beside you. "Then how do you even know-"

Agatha cuts her off with another scathing glare, before continuing on. "We know because every single one of these poor women cried out her name before their inevitable death. They begged her to save them, but she never did."

"That still doesn't-"

"For the love of god, just shut up and let me finish!" The older woman shrieks, throwing her hands in the air. Momentarily closing her eyes, she clenches her jaw. "She never saved any of these poor girls, feeding on their fear, anger and desperation. She enjoyed what was happening. Hell, she spurged it on, manipulating minds, changing people until they became unrecognizable, and after this hotel was built she took charge, driving owners and residents away, leading people to their inevitable death, and lately possessing unsuspecting women. All of those poor people had one thing to say - 'it was the Scarlet Witch'." She shifts on her feet, turning to look out the window. "Hundreds of years of terror, but there was one good thing she's done. There was a particularly nasty witch trial, the poor girl was accused of seducing a priest's daughter. Imagine the horrors she was bound to be faced with if they got their hands on her. They never did, she escaped their clutches, and every single man involved in the hunt on the girl was brutally murdered. The girl died of old age in the safety of her own home, forever protected by the magic of the Scarlet Witch." Suddenly, her eyes lock on yours. "There's no trace of the Scarlet Witch, but there's a painting of the woman she saved. I'd show it to you, but for you it'll be the same as looking in a mirror, so I'll save myself the trouble."

Peter suddenly sits up straighter, nodding along to Agatha's words.

Kate slides her hand away from your shoulders. "Don't want to make her jealous or anything," she whispers, looking around.

"Do you say this to everyone or..?" You hesitantly speak up.

Her eyes turn serious, causing a chill to run down your spine. "Oh no, buttercup, you're a spitting image of the only woman she deemed worthy enough to save."

"She's not lying," Peter says, "that's actually the reason why I asked you to come." He sends you a sheepish smile, and shows you a picture on his phone. It's an old painting, weathered by time, but undoubtedly beautiful.

The woman looks just like you.

You gulp, your heart hammering in your chest. "Well, I'm not her."

"Maybe not. It's not like it matters." Agatha mumbles, standing up, a faraway look in her eyes. "She must've had her reasons to save the poor girl, and I suspect they were far from noble. Be careful." She looks at you one last time before turning to Peter. "Well, it's been fun entertaining you, but it's nearing midnight, so I'll leave you to your ghost hunting, or whatever it is that you're doing." Her lips purse at the numerous cameras Peter's unloaded from his bag.

"Wait!" You jump up, stalling Agatha. "How do you even know about what happened at the trials? Is there some kind of document?" You're aware of the absurdity of your questions, after all you are the one who experienced all of the activity so far, and while some of it could be blamed on your nerves or your brain playing tricks on you, the door accident still burns at the back of your mind.

"You don't believe me?" Agatha smirks, making you shift uncomfortably. "Don't worry, you'll see, you have a long night ahead." She sends you one last look, and easily opens the door before disappearing behind it.

You fall back on the duvet, pressing your palms against your face. The past hour puts an uncomfortable weight on your chest, and you struggle to wrap your mind around the fact that you're probably going to be targeted even more as the night goes on, either by your terrified, overly anxious mind, or the Scarlet Witch.

The warm feeling you felt when you first stepped into the room slowly disappeared, leaving you to wonder if it's done its job in luring you in.

"Okay, it's time to-"

"We're not using a Ouija board."

"- light up some candles." Peter says, looking quizzically at Yelena. "I'm not stupid, you know." He huffs, rolling his eyes.

You snort, shaking your head at your friends' antics. "Why do we need candles?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "To communicate with ghosts."

"Don't you have some fancy tech for that?"

"I prefer to keep it simple," he shrugs.

You share a look with Yelena. "And we'll be left talking to the AC," you mumble loud enough for Peter to hear and send you a middle finger.

"There's no AC in this room. Some people use flashlights, but I prefer candles. We'll also use a spirit box."

"We're not catching any spirits in a box, right?" You sit up, eyes darting between your friends.

Peter sighs and goes on a rant about his tools, explaining how everything works. To your great relief, you won't have to catch anyone, just put on a blindfold, some noise canceling headphones, and let some spirit talk though one of you.

"Sounds fun," Kate gulps.

"I'm not doing that." You shake your head, crossing your arms.

Peter looks up from the floor, where he adjusts the rem pod, the piece of equipment going off when he touches it with a tip of his finger, calibrating the sensitivity. "Yelena will do that."

It's almost comical how far Yelena's jaw falls. "And why is that, Parker? Why don't you let some spirit use you as a radio?"

"Um… my tarot reader told me you'll do best out of all of us."

Kate starts cackling like a maniac, clutching her stomach and bending over. You can't help laughing either, burrowing your face into the pillow to keep quiet.

Yelena continues arguing with Peter, and you decide to leave them to it and satisfy your curiosity. You smile at the questioning smile Kate sends you, and gesture to the balcony door.

You were right, it is the balcony you saw from the outside, stretching all the way to the other side of the hotel. You sigh and lean against the railing, taking in the view. If you thought it looked terrifying on the way here, it looks even worse from high up. Moonlight shines on crooked trees surrounding the land around the hotel, dark and menacing, broken branches hanging on the last threads. There is a well within walking distance, not too far away from where you parked the car. You swear to yourself you won't let Peter drag you over there, it looks way too creepy.

You finally relax, letting your eyes fall shut for a second, but a blurry movement to your left forced them open. You grip the railing, squinting.

Nothing.

"What the fuck." Kate's voice sounds from the inside, and you rush back just in time to see her exit the adjoined bathroom, snapping the door shut with a terrified look on her face. "No. Oh fuck no. Oh no, no, no."

Peter sits up, alarmed. "What is it?"

"There's blood on the mirror," she whispers, her hands shaking violently, "and in the tub, and on the floor."

Peter immediately gets up, taking the only camera that's been filming the whole time with him. You follow your friend, not paying attention to your shaking hands and your hammering heart.

When the door opens you see a pristine bathroom, so clean it's almost mocking. He inspects every corner from every possible angle, only to come up short.

"Guys?" Kate calls out from behind the door. "Are you good?"

"There's nothing he-" you freeze mid sentence when your eyes land on the mirror.

It's fogged up, one word clearly written.

Your name.

You reach out - not of your own violation, your hand guided by some unseen force - and touch the reflective glass right where your name is. You're hit with a vision, bits and pieces of what feels like distant memory escaping the prison your mind put them in.

You see a wrinkled face of an old man, his expression pure disgust as he spews something right in your face. The scene changes abruptly, and now you're in a dark cell, with only the moon to keep you company. Your heart clenches at the pure anguish you're hit with, the desperation drowning you, leaving you no room to breathe. There's a sudden blur, and everything turns blinding white, and then… you feel that warmth again. A woman stands in front of you, reaching out, her eyes glinting red. She looks ethereal, her skin pale, almost sheer, her unruly hair pushed back by a red tiara. You gulp, feeling the power radiating from her, chest aching with the need to submit to it.

You stumble away from the mirror. There's no warmth in your chest now, only pure, unconcealed dread. You lean against the door, palms pressed to your face. Peter doesn't dare breathe, his hands only shaking slightly as he makes sure to get it in the frame.

"Where did you just go?" He whispers, not daring to speak any louder.

You shake your head, blinking back tears. "Tell me you did this. Tell me it's a prank."

He looks at you, eyes full of fear. He bites on his lower lip, eyes wide. "I did this. I totally did this." He nods rapidly, ushering you out of the room.

Kate and Yelena wait on the other side, each holding a candelabra. You don't even bother to ask where they found them, heading straight to the balcony for a breath of fresh air while Peter explains what happened.

You look at the full moon, rubbing your chest in tight circles.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Again, and again.

The floorboards of the balcony creak, along with the railing, and you wonder if it's all gonna fall to the ground, and bury you in a mess of wood and cement. Maybe that's what the witch wants - for you to stay here forever.

You feel the remains of that need, that hunger for the witch. You long to see her again, even if it's just a glimpse, a whiff of her presence.

When you come back, the lights are off, and Peter is already asking questions, Yelena's terrified expression telling you everything you need to know about the answers they've been provided with.

The candle on the nightstand goes out, and Peter blinks, looking at you. "Weird."

"What?" You ask, looking around, hair on the nape of your neck standing up.

"He asked the ghosts if they wanted us to leave." Kate answers.

"That means they do." Yelena points at the candle.

You shiver, a breeze from the balcony making you curl in on yourself, eyes flickering to every dark corner of the room, flinching whenever you see shadows from the moonlight that look a little too ominous.

Someone is watching you, you're sure. A part of you hopes it's her.

"And why is that weird?" You ask Peter, watching as he collects the candles. You sigh in relief, glad to have missed the conversation.

"I thought they liked us - you - at least," he mumbles.

"Maybe they want us gone so the witch can have some alone time with Y/n." Yelena's brows jump up and down suggestively, and you can't help, but laugh, some of the tension finally seeping away.

That is, until the last candle on the nightstand lights up again, completely on its own.

Peter staggers back, dropping the stack in his hands. "No fucking way," he whispers, "that never happened before."

He pulls back to check the camera, making sure it's still recording.

"That's a yes, right?" Kate gulps, looking at you with wide eyes. "She wants you wants you. It's not a coincidence."

You take a seat on the rocking chair in the corner and close your eyes, reminding yourself that nothing here could ever hurt you. It doesn't really work when you still feel eyes on you. Your hands tremble, and your legs feel too heavy to stand on. Every sound is amplified, your senses going into overdrive, so when a clock stops ticking, you immediately notice.

The clock reads 12:08, the hands still for a moment, before resuming their course.

You're slowly starting to wish you never agreed to come to this place.

Agatha's words ring in your head. What if the witch thinks you're that poor girl? That'll explain the witches' interest in you. Maybe she made you see those visions to help you remember.

But… What if it's not even her that's been following you? What if it's one of the dark entities Agatha told you about? The thought makes you even more uncomfortable - you'd prefer the Scarlet Witch to haunt you instead of some dark, trapped soul, no matter how absurd it sounds.

"Hey," Kate approaches you.

You blink, and offer her a hesitant smile. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" She bites on her lip, her hands on your knees.

You nod, and take her hands in yours. "I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up."

She sighs heavily, head falling to rest on your lap. "Same," she mumbles, "I feel like a prey."

You rub her shoulders, hoping to ease some of her tension. "We'll be out of here in the morning."

She looks up, smiling. "Actually, we're not sleeping here. Peter said we'll try to talk to them one last time and then go."

You hum, wondering why the information makes you feel worse. Shouldn't you be relieved to leave earlier?

"Okay, come here," Peter calls, putting noise canceling headphones on Yelena's head.

Kate jumps up, her eyes lightening up at the sight of Yelena sitting rigidly on the chair, a blindfold and headphones in place. "Oh, this is gonna be good," she smiles, settling in front of the blonde.

Peter looks at you. "I think you should ask the questions."

You nod, biting on the inside of your cheek. You think of something appropriate to ask - something that would reveal information without offending any of the spirits here.

"Are we here alone?" You ask, and everyone turns to look at Yelena, awaiting an answer.

Yelena's head bobs up and down, like she's listening to her favorite song, but you know for sure it's just white noise.

"Hello," Yelena says, smiling slightly.

Not alone, then.

You nod, and Peter gestures for you to continue.

"My name is Y/n, what is your name?"

It's quiet for a little while, occasional squeaks from the balcony making you jump up and look around.

When Yelena doesn't answer, Peter decides to speak up. "Did you follow us here from the lobby? Was it you-"

"Shut up," Yelena barks.

Kate stumbles back on the floor, and settles against the foot of the bed. "Oh fuck."

Peter takes a step back, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Sorry." He nods at you, urging you to continue.

"Do you not like him?" You ask.

"In… in the way…" her voice is unsure as she trails off.

"Peter's in the way? In the way of what?" Kate speaks up, looking at you.

"Deal," the blonde whispers, "owe."

Peter frowns. "You made a deal and you owe someone?"

Yelena purses her lips, tilting her head to the side like she can't quite figure out what is being said.

The bathroom door slowly creaks open.

"Are you in the bathroom?" Kate's voice shakes, and you take her hand, shuffling closer to the girl.

"Blood."

You exhale, looking at the open doorway with wide eyes.

Kate nods rapidly, her hand trembling. "There was a lot of blood. You scared the shit out of me."

Yelena chuckles, "Feed."

So whatever is here has been feeding on your fear.

"Who are you?" You ask again.

"You know," Yelena replies. "You all do."

"What's behind that door?" You have the strongest urge to go back there.

Yelena chuckles, shaking her head. “Go see for yourself.”

Light starts flickering, tears spring to your eyes, and you fight the urge to curl into a ball and cry. Yelena turns her head and sits up, leanings towards you.

"You forgot."

"Forgot about what?" You shudder, eyes darting between the door and Yelena.

"Our deal."

Peter darts to the other side of the room and snaps the door to the bathroom shut, his mouth set in a flat line. "We're leaving."

"She can't," Yelena singsongs.

"There's no deal. You're mistaken," Peter snaps, collecting the equipment.

"What deal?" You hesitantly ask.

Lightning strikes outside, a loud boom of thunder following. The painting of the burning witch falls.

"I own y-"

Peter tugs off the headphones, Yelena's mouth snaps shut. She tugs off the blindfold and blinks, brows set in confusion. "Are we gonna start any time soon?"

Kate groans, falling face first to the floor. "Fuck my life."

_______________________

Before you yell at me - yes, there will be a part two

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x y/n #scarlet witch x y/n #scarlet witch x female reader

[wlwloverwrites]

Home Gym

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader

Warnings: daddy kink, slight mention of sweat? in a sexy way, thigh riding, nipple play, light biting kink, normal things used as sex toy, smut, small amounts of fluff, oral sex, fingering, shower sex (18+)

Main Masterlist

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK. DO NOT REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS ON ANY OTHER PLATFORMS. DO NOT TRANSLATE MY WORK. NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO DO SO

You knew what your girlfriend was doing before you unlocked the front door. The walls rumbled with repeating vibrations. Her upbeat music she only ever played when she was working out echoed in the hallway. Your neighbors hardly complained… at least not about the music. They have complained about other loud noises coming your shared apartment.

You remember the first time they knocked on your door.

Sweat was beginning to build on your hairline, your robe was falling off your shoulder, and your feet were cold stepping on the hardwood floors. You opened the door to see your very uncomfortable neighbor, right away you knew they heard. You were mortified when they asked you keep it down. You gasped when they admitted your ‘rather loud noises’ had been a reoccurring problem. Genuine sorries fell past your mouth but were interrupted with a rather smug Kate.

Kate’s arms slipped around your waist while her lips found your bare shoulder. She kissed over the forming marks on your heated skin. She didn’t pay any attention to the same neighbor she sometimes helped carry groceries up the stairs. That neighbor was now bright red once they realized Kate was nude, completely unbothered. You said your rushed goodbyes and failed at keeping the noise down.

Your jingling keys did nothing to signal to your girlfriend that you were home. Their sound swallowed by the music Kate added to her ‘Gym’ playlist. After settling down, you found yourself taking a peek into her gym. She noted that the extra bedroom in your apartment would be the perfect place to work out. Your eyes trail over her body.

Her arms are glistening with sweat. Fly away hairs are glued to her forehead and her cheeks are flushed red. You watch as her necklaces dangle in the air with each push up. Her form is impressive, she makes it look easy. Staring at her lips you can see her counting under her breath, the last number falls past her lips with a loud sigh. She gets up to sit on her bench. She leans to get her water bottle and that’s when she sees you.

“Hey baby,” she says with a smile, setting her bottle down and lowering the music with her phone.

“Hi Kate.”

“How was your day?” She spreads her legs just an inch, welcoming you between them as you make your way over to her to greet her with a soft kiss.

“Was okay,” you hum against her lips, giggling softly when you feel her wandering hands.

“You look pretty, baby. Those are nice jeans,” she compliments with her eyes trailing down your body.

“Oh really? Thank you, a really pretty girl gifted me these jeans.” You reply playfully, giving her a nice twirl.

You recall the time she bought them. The skin on her arms was indented with the strings from the numerous shopping bags she insisted only she’d carry. She bought you so much you always had to find a way to rearrange your closet to fit even more clothes. Don’t even let her get started on jewelry. Your nightstand always had some type of jewelry resting on top. Sliver and gold necklaces, tennis bracelets, and rings sparkled with the soft light coming from your lamp. Kate loved buying you rings. Sometimes when she’s bored she just stops by the some random jewelry store and buys you another ring. She always takes a mental note on your reaction, trying to figure out which is your favorite style…. for research purposes of course.

“Girl has good taste,” Kate jokes slipping her hands into your butt pockets, giving your ass a playful squeeze that makes you laugh. “I’m just finishing up here. Do me a favor, baby,” She looks up at you. “Can you hand me the massage gun?”

You hum, turning to get what she asked for. You bought it for her birthday, you remember her smile when she realized what it was. She had been complaining about being sore after working out and occasional cramps, so you did what any good girlfriend would do. You added it to you shopping cart. You mess with the buttons, checking if it was charged.

“After you finish up, want to eat out?”

It’s quiet for a moment and look at your girlfriend confused. You roll your eyes playfully when you see the look on her face. The same cocky smirk you learned to love is on her face as she jokingly licks her lip.

“I mean since you’re offering. I wouldn’t mind…” Her hands grab your hips, her fingers tug on your belt loops forcing you down on her thigh. “I wouldn’t mind eating you out.”

You throw your head back with a laugh. The position you’re in is awkward, but before you can get off her thigh, her arm hugs your body down. Her unoccupied hand grabs the massage gun from your hand and switches it on.

“Finish up with me?” She asks innocently.

Too innocently.

Your hands went to her shoulders, awkwardly rubbing them to massage the forming knots. She sighs softly, you always loved the way you relaxed her. Dropping your hands to her arms, raising your eyebrows when you feel her muscles. Your lips part and suddenly you are hyper aware of your position. You never really noticed her ‘pump’ after working out, you were always quick to rush her in the shower or was simply not home to witness it; however, now you felt it. Kate seems to be in her own world, aiming the vibrating gun on her biceps.

Are you supposed to use it on your arms?

“Feels weird. I usually just do it on my legs,” she shrugs as if she can read your mind. You don’t know how you don’t put two and two together. It’s Kate for crying out loud. The both of you have been dating for the past two years and you still don’t know how you didn’t see her meticulously planning something in her head.

She smiles at you, it’s not a sweet smile.

It’s dark, and widens when your body jerks forward.

Vibrations crawl down her thigh and between yours. Just on the first setting, the vibrations were enough to dig your fingers into her flesh. Loud moans escape your mouth. Kate’s thumb hits a button, bumping up the speed and you feel like you’re flying. Throwing your head back leaves your throat to be Kate’s next victim. Her teeth bite at your skin making you hiss in pain. Your hiss quickly turns into a whine when she pulls away. A text notification pulls her attention away from you.

“K-Kate,” you whine. Your voice is shaky and you’re almost sure your eyes are crossed. Subconsciously your hips flex towards her body, your forehead fell at the junction of her neck.

“Hold on,” she is quick to dismiss you, not even caring one bit about you grinding on her bare thigh, like a bitch in heat. She doesn’t care that you are purposely shoving your breasts in her face to pull her eyes away from the screen and onto you. Your breathing become harsh, every vibration feeding into the sudden pleasure. Forcing your eyes open you look at Kate’s phone. She is the middle of typing a text when you whine again.

Kate shushes you.

Soaked between your thighs, with your wetness seeping through your pants and onto Kate’s thigh. An occasional moan would slip past your lips and it would result in a sharp stare from your girlfriend, but after the third one Kate had enough. Why she wanted silence was beyond you. Was she finally on the neighbor’s side?

Her empty hand, phone finally put away, fell right on your ass. A loud slap echoed through the room. Your skin burned, but it never stopped your hips, only made them faster. The slap only makes you moan louder. Clearly annoyed, the vibrations stop and you are left panting with want. There’s drool that piles by the corner of your mouth, but you quickly try to recover yourself. The inside of your thighs are numb.

“I told you to stay quiet, baby,” she tuts, her hand squeezes your face. She’s taunting you, knowing damn well how much you love when she gets cocky.

“But Daddy, I need you,” you whisper the words against her skin. Your lips are swollen from your teeth tugging at the poor skin. Fingertips dig into her clothes, a silent beg for her to get undress despite her being half naked and you being fully dressed.

“I know you need me, baby.” She whispers back, pushing her face closer to yours so your noses are brushing against each other. Her tongue peaks out from her lips and licks yours. “Want to know how I know?”

You don’t know what game she’s playing at, yet. Nonetheless, you nod, bumping your noses again. Leaning in for a kiss, you part your lips and tilt your head to the right. Patiently you wait because you know more is coming.

“It’s not because you’re begging for me,” she declines pressing a wet kiss against your lips before she pulls away with your bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s not because your eyes have gone all hazy.” You suck in a deep breath when she turns the gun back on and places against her thigh so you can feel the vibrations. “It’s because I can feel how wet you are between those pretty thighs.”

You whine into her neck, your body is shaking with need and it’s only then do you realize how right Kate is. You’re soaked between your thighs. Your panties feel like a second skin and your poor jeans do nothing to help when it came to friction. Drunk with pleasure you nod at her words. Grinding even harder against her thigh, chasing your high.

“‘m so wet,” you whine, sinking your teeth into the bare part of her shoulder. The salty taste of her sweat meets your taste and there is a small part of you that loves the taste. The bite makes Kate hiss in pain, she pushes you off slightly. Before you’re able to overthink why she practically rips your blouse off of you. Your blouse is now resting on top of a dumbbell and Kate’s mouth found its safe haven between your breasts. Not bothering to unclasp your bra, she shoves the padded material down, just enough so your nipples appear. Her lips wrap around your right nipple without warning.

“Come on, baby. Ride Daddy’s thigh. I know you want to.”

You can feel each syllable against your breast. Sensitive and needy you follow her instructions and whine when her lips find your left nipple. Kate, never the one to chose sides, gives the same treatment to the left breast. Groaning into your skin as her unoccupied hand finds your back. Dragging her fingertips down your skin until they find your jeans again. Kate loved the sight in front of her. You grinding against her thigh, bottom lips between your teeth, sweat building up on your forehead, sweet sounds escaping your lips, and most importantly the growing wet stain between your legs which ruins your jeans.

“Daddy knows your body too well, huh?”

She’s taunting you.

“Moan my name.”

“Kate.”

“Louder.”

“Kate!!”

The vibrations are strong — too strong. Your head feels fuzzy and eyes can’t seem to focus on anything. Drunk with pleasure you throw your head back, giving Kate more than enough space to attack sensitive parts of your neck once again. Hips are rolling fast against Kate’s thigh. Too busy chasing your high you barely kiss back your girlfriend who pulled you into a messy kiss. You whine against her lips when you the feeling in the pit of your stomach gets ready to be released.

“Fuck Daddy. I- I’m gon-,” you stumble over your words as Kate gives up on massaging her thigh and places the gun directly on your pelvis.

“Come on, baby. Get all messy for me,” Kate whispers against your skin, encouraging you to soak through your jeans. She bumps the vibrations even higher, sinks her teeth into the soft skin on your collarbone, and rolls your nipple with her free hand. It’s enough to push you off the edge.

Your eyes roll back as your whole body seizes with pleasure. Your fingers dig themselves into the full muscles in her arms. Your thighs clench trapping Kate’s so she can no longer bounce it. You feel wet between your legs, no doubt making your jeans a darker blue than before. You don’t know when the vibrations stop and the praises start.

“Pretty girl.” Kate’s mouth finds your ear, her teeth trap your earlobe, “Doing so good for Daddy.” Kate pays no mind in the aftermath stings caused from your nails. You smile softly when you feel sweaty arms wrap around your waist and a flushed cheeks rests on top of your naked breast. Kate, always the sucker for skin-to-skin contact, whispers how good you are for her. You giggle softly when you feel her wandering hands rub your back and her soft lips find your collarbone.

“You’re so pretty, baby.”

“Thank you.”

Kate laughs against your skin. Even when your mind isn’t working at its full capacity you still manage to keep your manners in check. The minutes you take in hold each other feel like hours, the both of you just enjoying each other’s touch. It isn’t until the sweat begins to build up that you pull away. Kate whines when you pull away but understands because her skin was flushed, which makes you feel bad. She never had the chance to cool off after her workout.

“Kate, honey. We need to shower. You’re stinky and I’m messy.” You groan, scrunching up your nose and giggling when Kate is clearly offended when you stated the truth. 

You jump off her lap when she reaches to tickle you. Smirking when you escape from her attacks and watch as she gets off the the bench. You back away and you sprint to the door, playing a small game of cat and mouse.

“You’re not too sore, baby?” She asked with faux concern, raising your suspicion as she makes no move to chase away you like she usually does.

“No. Are you?” You challenge, looking back at your girlfriend who is pulling off her sports bra, it takes all your willpower to not look. She stands shirtless in the middle of the room for a second before she walks to you. She takes advantage of your eyes that dart to her chest and grabs you.

“Never, just wanted to check in cause I still need to eat you out.” She says with a wink. Her hands cradle your face as she makes you walk backwards to your shared bathroom.

“I made a promise to my girlfriend and I intend to keep it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm.” Kate nods as she presses a gentle kiss on your lips.

Finally, the both of you are in the bathroom. Loud giggles fill the room along with the sound of the shower as you get undressed. Kate checks if the water temperature is okay before she gets in and offers her hand to you as you step inside. Sighing softly at the water as you wash away your sweat, and worries. It doesn’t take long for Kate to fall on her knees and hike your leg over her shoulder. Her directness has you holding yourself upright against the sage green tiles you have decorating your shower wall.

“Fuck Daddy.”

Her tongue is gentle, licking your throbbing clit. Kate takes everything you offer her. She moans softly at your salty taste that is watered down with the droplets of water that also fall on her face. She takes in the way your finger get tangled in her soaked hair. She takes in the way you can’t seem to hold your moans, forgetting how loud you can get. It isn’t long til Kate adds her fingers. Her pointer and middle finger find their way inside you. Kate is careful to make sure you don’t lose your balance before curling her fingers in a ‘come here’ motion. You let out a high pitched whine when she repeats the motion again and again.

“I’m gonna come again! Oh Kate.”

Kate keeps a steady pace and makes sure to not be too rough knowing you’re sore despite your confident ‘no’ you said earlier. You can’t get over the feeling of her tongue, eyes rolling back as you moan her name over and over. Your hips roll against her face, forcing her tongue to lick over her fingers and her nose bump your clit. The sound that leaves you is pornographic making Kate laugh against your pussy and another voice yell.

“Can you guys hurry up in there?! I have to use the restroom.”

Your gasp is loud but is quickly switched to an even louder moan when you fall apart on your girlfriend’s tongue. Your fingers tug on Kate’s wet hair and she pushes her mouth closer to your pussy.

“Kate, Kate, honey. Who is that?” Your words are rushed as you try and catch your breath, legs are still shaky and you’re pretty sure your eyes are crisscrossed…again.

“Yelena.” She says as if it is obvious. You blink, once then twice and look at your girlfriend who is already rinsing the shampoo off her dark hair.

“What?”

“She was on her way when you were,” she pauses as she reaches for the loofa behind you. “Well you were… you know,” she pauses and then drops her mouth and rolls her eyes back before mimicking you, “Oh yes, Kate. Fuck, Daddy!”

You feel the heat on the your cheeks and grow hotter when you hear a very confused, russian accent outside the bathroom door a second time, “I thought Y/N finished already?”

You’re mortified, but Kate only laughs as she steps out of the shower. Walking out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around her waist, leaving the top part of her body bare.

“Yelena, don’t you know we have a guest bathroom?”

“Don’t you know I can hear her from the hallway?”

thank you all for 5,000 followers! please reblog, comment, and like! - lover

#first time writing for Kate #this is a love letter to silver (my wife (real)) #would yall to see more of this? #wlwloverwrites #wlwloversfics #char: Kate bishop #type: smut #Kate bishop #Kate bishop smut #Kate bishop x reader #Kate bishop x reader smut #Hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #kate bishop fanfiction #marvel #marvel smut

[soapybutt17]

Too Sweet For Me

Summary: It was the annual Military Ball, the fifth one since you and John have been married in secret. With his new promotion as Captain, meant a whole ball park of responsibilities he was still getting used to—but nothing gets to him more than the mere sight of you, his beautiful darling in the dress he always loves. It was also something to prepare for with the new changes that came to this year’s ball. Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Kate Laswell. Word Count: 2,190 Chapter Warnings: None. Author's Note: this was also supposed to be for @glitterypirateduck's O'Captain challenge but my appendix had other plans for me this past few days. Lol.

Inspired by this song (obviously)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Request are Open || Join My Taglist

“Darling.” You couldn’t help but smile at your husband’s pained groan.

With a red backless dress, you know you would turn heads with your outfit and even more certain that your husband would be killing a few men if you weren’t too careful about him.

“Behave.” You pulled away from him as soon as you felt his hands hold onto the small of your exposed back. You turned to face him, seeing him so handsome in his ceremonial uniform, an upgrade since his new promotion.

“I don’t think I can see myself behaving with you looking so ravishing.” He muttered approaching you again and pulling you into another kiss, allowing him this one time since you have yet to put your make up on. “Will this be a problem for tonight?” He playfully warned.

“If you keep your hands to yourself it won’t.” You playfully pointed out pecking him on the lips one last time before turning your attention back to your vanity mirror to put on your makeup. “I’m surprised that you actually plan on coming to this year’s event. I’d expect you to just stay home after the last mission.” You pointed out.

Behind the bravado and the handsome uniform your husband had on, was a broken but healing man that just got back from a mission. A few scrapes and bruises you all know too well were hidden perfectly well, but the black eyes was something that would take more than an ice pack and makeup to actually cover.

“Better to be there to see what those muppets have planned.” He grumbled.

You had accidentally let it slip that there was going to be an auction for this year’s event and you had volunteered to be part of the auction. A simple date that you were certain meant absolutely nothing but it was for a great cause and you couldn’t really fault them with.

Your husband was still apprehensive about the fact, especially knowing that no one was made aware of your relationship to each other. Everyone was given the fact that you were both good friends that had been on countless missions together. It was nothing but friendship between the two of you if you were ever spotted in town together even when the both of you knew it was something more.

“It’s just one date, even Kate is joining along.” You tried your best to reassure him but it wasn’t happening whatsoever with the deep frown resting on his lips.

“Just because I agreed to this doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.” He muttered under his breath, finally resigning by your decision, which you were thankful for. No need for you to try to convince him with anything.

“You owe me for this. I need some kind of motivation for tonight not to blow someone’s head.” He muttered.

And you spoke too soon.

“How about a day or two in that ritzy cabin you’ve been pestering me about for weeks now.” You offered.

One thing you truly hated was being too out of touch with society if you could avoid it. You have to do it for work, you weren’t so keen on doing it in your personal time if you didn’t have to. But your husband just was a recluse when he wants to be and this was one of those many instance that he will have his way.

“Deal and the ring stays on so they know you’re mine.” He muttered.

You smiled, lifting your hand up for him to see the sparkle of your engagement and wedding ring still nestled on your finger. Even without him saying it, you wouldn’t even dream of removing it.

~

The newly promoted Captain John Price should have been at the top of the world because of his new title, but it was far from the reality of it as he watched his beloved wife continue to mingle amongst both officials and fellow soldiers. It still shook him to the core how someone like you could command yet bring comfort to anyone that was privileged to be in your presence.

But that was just what made him love you so much. How someone like you, a Lieutenant to his own position as a Sergeant would never once use your position to demean him or treat him as anything less than you were. Some may say your call sign as Rookie to be an insult, a way to make you less than what you truly were, but you proved time and time again that it was a reassurance to anyone lower than you that you will stand on equal footing as them if the need arises especially on missions.

“Rookie’s already stealing the spotlight.”

John turned his attention to one unfortunate woman he had the misfortune of meeting in his life that turned his whole world upside down. Kate Laswell was an intelligent woman—far too much for her own good at times but she was the best of the best in her line of work. She was one of the main reasons why he was placed in a mission that ended with him finally climbing the ranks.

“As she should.” John agreed, subtle in his comments as to avoid anyone, especially Laswell from thinking anything was going on between the two of you.

“I still can’t believe she refused the promotion.” She continued taking a swig at the whiskey she was cradling, only bringing a craving for one in John himself.

“I’ve heard. I don’t think she’d be a good fit with the paperworks from the looks of it.” He added.

Of course he knew the very reason why you had refused the promotion on your own end. You were in all accounts a better fit than him to become a Captain, a rank that had been a well-deserved position for everything you’ve done but every single time the topic would be brought up you had threatened retirement or AWOL if anyone pushes. You never truly saw yourself as someone that would be working behind the desk, you couldn’t help and navigate dealing with officials, you admit you were never built for such capabilities.

“I believe she is. You should have seen her chew on Shepherd during the last mission. She’s got guts and a heart that not something you see in the field often.”

He nodded, that was what made you special. He watched you now begin a lengthy conversation with the well-known and very much feared soldier Ghost. How you had been the only one to hold a conversation and not trembled at the sight of the monster of a killing machine.

“Why am I not even surprise with her.” He chuckled turning his attention away from you and turning towards Laswell. “So, are we just gonna spend the entire night talking about Rookie?”

“That’s not much of an issue for you Captain.” Laswell smirked knowingly.

“Will I ever live that down?” He questioned, jokingly.

He was once again reminded of the time in his drugged state where he was delirious enough to propose to you after a mission gone wrong. To many it was just him too drugged from painkillers but for you it was an intentional proposal that you accepted once you were alone.

“You’re never gonna escape the allegations, John. I will never allow it.” Laswell smirked finally excusing herself when the MC has begun.

He made his way to this designated table, his eyes always following you. He watched as you made your way backstage to prepare for the auction later on tonight. It brought the never ending dread in the pit of his stomach as the staff began distributing the auction paddle around, accepting his own without an ounce of hesitation.

It will be a long night that much he has come to realize.

~

“One Thousand!”

You had faced so much trials and tribulation during your career in the military. The vile and often times immoral acts that was placed against you during interrogations and kidnapping, but nothing in your life could have given you more shame than to be standing in front of the stage as numerous bids have been placed upon your name.

Your eyes had been following along to the numerous of individuals that were bidding, some were colleagues your husband had been all too certain had hots for you, others were top officials that you were more than certain were pigs for involving themselves in the date auction knowing they were married, then there were the guests that had been leering at you all night long.

Maybe your husband was right, the auction was a big mistake.

Your eyes scanned the entire room until they met the familiar eyes of your husband. The reassurance had settled on his eyes as much as the annoyance but he was waiting for you to give him the signal.

Somehow with a simple nod it was all he needed to do to raise the paddle and his booming voice had silence everyone.

“Ten thousand.” His voice had everyone turning.

It was one of the highest bids for the night and it just had to be from the man himself. The rest of the night had been a blur, after the auction and countless of formalities and empty conversations, you had found yourself in the arms of your husband as he helped you back onto the car.

“You alright?” He inquired cupping your cheeks the moment he had helped you with your seatbelt.

“Will get better.” You assured him grounding yourself back to reality as he patted your cheeks and driving the two of you back to your shared apartment.

The car ride was silent, the event with the auction still playing in your head. It could go so wrong in many ways if your husband did not intervene. It was supposed to be for a good cause, but it did not feel like it when you stood in front of the stage. You felt more like meat being prepared to be slaughtered.

Eventually you two had arrived back. Your husband opened the car for you and led you back to you to your apartment. The silence was consuming you more than you expected it to.

“Want to sober up or not?” Your husband inquired.

You turned to look at him as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Sober up would be great right now.” You sighed following him to the kitchen, hopping onto the barstool by the kitchen island. Toeing off your heels in the process, an unintentional moan escaped your lips from the relief on your feet.

“I haven’t done anything yet and you’re already moaning, My Love?” He teased placing a mug of coffee in front of you, from the smell alone you were all too certain was too bitter for your taste.

“Play your cards right and maybe I’ll be the one to make you moan all night.” You quipped right back, cupping the mug and relief of the warmth washing away the events of the night.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He smirked turning towards your mini bar and pour himself a hefty pour of whiskey.

“Surprised you didn’t threatened anyone at the party.” You pointed out.

“I could do lots of things, but I decided it wasn’t worth the hassle for either of us.”

You nodded, watching him unbutton his uniform and sit beside you. Your head immediately finding their way onto his shoulder.

“I’ll pay you back what you paid for the auction.” You promised him.

“You would do no such thing.” He ordered. “You’re worth every pretty penny I’ve paid for tonight.”

You blushed at his words. Even in the years of being with the man, he still has his way of turning you into the girl that had always had a crush on the handsome gruff all only had eyes for you.

Your eyes turned towards your hand, the sparkle of your rings was always present and never once did you remove them even at the party. You wanted to keep your relationship private but never a secret and there are days that you wished to let the world know. But now with his new promotion and you having to lead yet another mission with the help of him now, you doubt it would be a good thing to do.

“You’re too sweet to me sometimes, even after how shitty the night turned out.”

“Nothing shitty about tonight. I get to see you all dressed up and all eyes on you knowing you’re gonna come home to me tonight and do whatever their empty little heads could formulate.”

You rolled your eyes cupping his cheeks and move him slightly too pull him into a kiss that you had desperately wanted to give him all night long. The taste of whiskey brought a sudden thrill through your core.

“Plan on showing it to me, Captain?” You purred and the way his eyes blew out, it was all notification you needed to know as you were unceremoniously lifted into his arms.

Whoever thought your husband had a Captain Kink?

#John Price One Shots #John Price Oneshot #John Price Oneshots #john price headcanon #John Price x reader #john price x female reader #John price x wife! reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #captain price #call of duty #fanfic #x reader #female reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price #captain price x you #john price #john price x you #captain price x female reader

[nickfowlerrr]

it's nice to have a friend

pairing: stucky x curvy!reader

warnings: fluff. tinge of angst. longing. mutual pining. no smut but all my works are considered 18+ only regardless.

words: 1.7k

notes: loosely based off this prompt: platonic forehead kisses starting to give u the feels. LIKE ITS SOMETHING MAGICAL. i'm currently pmsing and work killed me so i was only able to get to this drabble done today. hoping to do the bucky request tomorrow! <3 thank you in advance for reading and reblogging. comments and feedback are always welcome and so appreciated!

“I’m fine, Steve,” you laugh as you try to swat his hand away.

You still as he catches it in his instead, pulling it down and holding it as he runs his thumb over your hand. You watch him as he keeps his gaze down, tracking his own movements and appearing deep in thought.

It’s soft and silent in the dim light of the kitchen, a little past midnight, seemingly only you and him awake at this hour.

You’d gotten back from your mission just a few hours ago and Steve had been your shadow from the tarmac up until you were cleared by Dr. Cho and could head to living quarters.

You had a small gash on your forehead and some bruised knuckles but really you felt fine. Kate and Peter weren’t as unscathed as you and Clint but all in all, the mission was a success. And truly, there was nothing for anyone, especially not Steve, to be worried about.

You and Steve were close, close enough that you considered him to be one of your best friends here at the tower, but despite that, you still had no idea why he was so concerned about you tonight.

He’d been worrying over you since you’d stepped foot off the jet. Not outright, but you could tell he was following you because he wanted to keep an eye on you. You finally convinced him you were good, or so you’d thought, and had some time to yourself as you showered and got ready for bed. When you came out to grab something to eat before letting sleep finally take you for the night, that was when you’d found him sitting in the kitchen.

Only the dimmer was on as he sat at the counter sketching something in his notebook. He noticed your presence right away and got up from his seat to meet you at the cabinet you were at.

He’d instantly went for the mug he knew you were going to reach for and handed it to you as you watched him, having relaxed with your backside against the counter when he came over.

You’d caught yourself admiring him as he got you your mug but you tried to quickly shut those thoughts down and instead focused on just how lucky you were to call Steve a friend. His concern wasn’t necessary, but it was nice to know he cared.

You took the mug from him and when you set it down on the counter, he once again tried to fuss over the small gash that would likely leave a little physical memory of the mission. Not that you minded all that much.

You tried to brush his hand away but he caught yours and kept hold of it as you let him.

As Steve continued to stroke his thumb over your soft, sensitive skin, you couldn’t help but notice the crease in his brows and the tightness of his jaw as he rubbed gently at the bruises.

You couldn’t imagine this was all because of you, but something was obviously up.

“Steve,” you spoke softly, waiting for him to look at you once more.

His bright blue eyes met yours and the worry you found in them had you sighing.

“What’s wrong?” You asked as you gently squeezed his hand. “And don’t say nothing. I think I know you well enough to know that something is, so spill.”

He smiled halfheartedly at you, an almost pained look in his eye before he shook his head.

He lifted your hand to his lips and placed a delicate kiss to your knuckles before he let go. You thought your heart might just stop beating entirely at the action as your breathing stilled unbidden.

You watched him as he took a small step back from you. The look in his eye wasn’t one you could name now but it had your stomach twisting..in a good way.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said as he took you in with his eyes.

Your brows furrowed lightly before you gave a small smile. That was far from the whole answer and you knew it, but you wouldn’t press him on it right now.

“I hadn’t realized how late it was,” he continued when he glanced over at the time on the stove. “I should probably get some sleep. And you should, too,” he said turning his head back to face you and fixing you with a look you could only laugh at.

“Will do, Captain,” you chuckled lightly with a nod. “Soon as I find something to eat.”

“I think Bucky has leftover pizza in the fridge if you want,” he offered.

You scoffed and your eyes narrowed at him, “Do you want me dead?” you asked in faux incredulity, earning a soft laugh in return.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” he smirked. “Besides, if he knows it was you, I don’t think he’d mind.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as you pushed off the counter to head to the fridge.

Before you got there, though, you were stopped as Steve’s arms wrapped around you in a hug. You found yourself pressed right against his chest and though it took you a second to register what was happening, you soon returned his embrace and relaxed into him. God, he was so warm. And he smelled so nice. You had to stop yourself from nuzzling into him and making a complete fool of yourself. His hold was so comforting, you quickly found yourself lost in it.

So much so, you almost didn’t register when Steve placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. Almost.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the contact as your arms reactively squeezed him tighter and you pressed yourself closer to him.

It wasn’t the first time he’d given you a forehead kiss but this time felt different. It made you feel different. Like you were in a dream. It was soft and comforting but it also had butterflies coming to life in your stomach and had your body alight in delight.

But it was over before you knew it and Steve pulled away from you with a soft, “Goodnight.”

His touch lingered on your arm though before he dropped his hand completely and smiled at you once more.

“Night,” you whispered back before you watched him go, grabbing his notebook on his way back to his room.

You absentmindedly wrapped your arms around yourself as you were already missing the feeling of his touch.

That was different. That was very different.

The light flicked on behind you and you spun around coming face to face with the only other person you'd really looked forward to seeing upon your return.

His boyish grin only added to the butterflies already causing ruckus in your tummy.

"There you are," he smiled, "I was looking for you."

Not another word was said before you found yourself wrapped up in Bucky's arms.

God, he was so warm. And he smelled so good.

Thankfully he pulled away before you could embarrass yourself by unleashing the purr that threatened to tumble past your lips as his hands rubbed at the knots in your back soothingly.

"You okay?" he asked, concern lacing his tone as he studied your face, eyes fixating on the cut blemishing your forehead once he assured himself the rest of you was alright.

"Fine," you smiled.

He nodded, "Good."

You got lost in his gaze as you stared at one another for a long while, just your quiet breaths could be heard in the otherwise silence of the kitchen.

You didn't even realize you were holding his hands until he squeezed yours ever so slightly.

"'M glad you're back," he simpered.

"Me too," you returned.

"You hungry?" he asked. "I have some pizza in the fridge if you want," he offered.

You almost laughed remembering Steve's words earlier. "That sounds really good, actually," you nodded, smiling, "thanks."

You watched as Bucky got out the cold pizza and warmed it up for you as you admired his form. When you caught yourself, you wondered how he hadn't felt your gaze heavy on his back. You were mesmerized by his muscles as they flexed with his movements.

God, you fretted to yourself.

You didn't know what to do.. You didn't know how much longer you could keep telling yourself these feelings you were feeling for Steve and Bucky were nothing.. how much longer you could deny that with each day that passed you found yourself falling harder and harder for the two supersoldiers.

Little did you know, they were both already head over heels for you.

They promised each other they'd wait as long as they had to until you brought it up yourself, they didn't want you to feel any pressure whatsoever, even if that meant you never brought it up. They'd keep their distance, not crossing the line of friendship until they were sure you wanted to. But nights like this, when you've been gone for as long as you had been, or worse when you'd come back hurt, no matter how trivial the injury was, they couldn't stay only arm's length.

To avoid overcrowding you upon your return, they'd agreed to come to you one on one. Had Bucky seen the glint of disappointment in your eyes when Steve told you he was preoccupied upon your return, he would've been a total loss. Would've come right up to you and sworn to make his absence up to you, whatever it'd take.

Hell, they'd both been waiting impatiently all day to see you and Bucky only begrudgingly sat out from greeting you on the tarmac because Steve won the coin toss.

As he plated your pizza, the pizza he had secretly saved for you, he smiled to himself as he felt your eyes glued to him.

He liked the feeling.

Steve wasn't so sure you'd ever see them as anything more than friends to you, but Bucky thought otherwise. He knew otherwise. He felt it in your gaze, in your playful hits and nudges when you’d joke together, in the warmth of your hugs... He knew it was gonna happen. And each day that passed, he only grew more sure.

He couldn't wait until the day you were all on the same page, all your cards on the table, finally the three of you together. No more coin tosses, no more taking turns checking on you after missions, no more three second hugs (though he never really stuck to that rule all too much), no more lingering forehead kisses that he desperately wished would turn into more...

He couldn't wait. But he would. For you, they'd wait forever.

#stucky x curvy!reader #stucky x reader #stucky x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers x curvy!reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #bucky drabble #steve rogers drabble #stucky x reader drabble

[shotmrmiller]

Mistress.

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x AFAB!Reader

TW: femdom! reader, slight degradation?, complete and utter submission, masturbation

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley, a hulking giant of a man, a solid figure of authority on base and the reaper itself on the field, passing through the enemy like smoke, taking their lives with him— had a big secret. To find out, even by chance, is a death sentence.

Simon on leave always went home to an empty flat. He just doesn't have the time to meet anyone, and he figures no one would want to have a relationship with someone who leaves for months on end and with little to no communication. But that didn't mean he did not want someone to spoil. Shower them with gifts and the money he accumulated over years of serving because he never had any time to spend it on anything other than basic necessities.

So once he was home, he indulged in his secret. His Mistress. You.

Sending £800 to your bank account, he sent a text.

'I'm home, Mistress.'

A reply, minutes later.

'You paid your tribute. I'll indulge you just this once, but you ought to remember we work on my schedule, not yours.'

'Of course, my Mistress. I humbly apologize.'

'I will be there in 30. You will not make me wait at the door.'

'Yes, Mistress.'

The Lieutenant was always overlooking something or someone on base, so you were perfect for him. You demanded complete control, and if not given, you took it regardless— and nothing was sweeter than having such a large man submit to you and only you.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You arrived outside his door, and without knocking just said, 'Simon.'

The front door was opened almost immediately, and you were greeted with Simon on his knees — you'll never get over how delicious he looks submitting to you even though he's so tall his head reaches your hipbones and you're in heels — with a collar already on his neck and the leash's handle on his raised palm. You step inside and watch him close the door.

'Good boy,' you murmur as you take the handle, 'Look at me.'

He lifts his head as you look down at him and you see his blue eyes soften at your outfit— which you'll never admit you purposefully put on, knowing it's his favorite based on past meetings.

You're wearing a pink latex corset dress with the laces tied tight on the entire back of the dress and the length of the dress reaches your upper thigh. For stockings, you have petal pink, sheer stay-ups, and your shoes are 'So Kate' 120mm in the same rosy color— and to finish the look, you've got on a long, black a-line wool coat that you're currently taking off and putting on the coat hanger by the front door.

Leash in hand, you walk towards the leather couch, hearing Simon's jeans dragging on his carpet as he crawls behind you before you turn and sit, crossing your legs.

"Permission to take your heels off, Goddess."

"Permission granted. You know what to do."

He takes your dainty foot in both his hands and presses his lips on your ankle, before moving on to the bridge of your foot. Squeezing the counter of your heel, he pulls it, and your toes slip from the shoebox— he gives a pathetic moan at the sight of your stocking-covered, white nail-polished toes.

Removing your other heel, he grabs both of your feet and places them flat on the floor before, still kneeling, he lowers his head to worship you, peppering kisses anywhere he can put his lips on.

You extend your toes and press them to his forehead, pushing him back up and away from you.

"That's enough."

He immediately kneels back on his haunches, and you look at his face to take in his body language. Pupils so large his iris is a thin blue ring, cheeks red and blotchy, mouth slightly agape as he let out shuddering wispy breaths.

Yanking on his collar, you open your legs and pull him to slot in between them. How his torso blankets your entire body makes your toes curl— and that he's still in a submissive pose and still massive makes your walls clench.

Simon, biting his lower lip, lets out a loud groan— gripping the side of the sofa cushions by your knees as his eyes gaze directly to the apex of your thighs. Right to your unclothed quim. Simon is the only sub that's ever seen you in any state of undress. He's the only one you'd fuck straight into his mattress if he begged, and he never looked so good than when he's begging you for attention.

You entangle your fingers into his ash-brown hair and pull, hard, to make eye contact and say, 'The next time you stare at anything other than my eyes without my explicit permission and I walk. I'll drain your bank account of every single pound and you'll thank me for it before I cut off all contact. This is your first and last warning."

Simon whimpers a pitiful little noise before jerking his head in an aggressive nod.

"Yes, my mistress."

You yank on his hair hard enough to wiggle his head a little and loudly say,

"Yes, my mistress what???"

He swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing, and proclaims, " Yes, my mistress. I am wholly unworthy of your beautiful gift. I deserve absolutely nothing from you."

Biting your lip, you let go of his hair and drag it down towards his jaw to softly cup his cheek.

In a faint, caressing voice you say, "Good boy. Staying in your place is easy once you're reminded of it."

You recline back, shift your eyes down to the monstrous bulge in Simon's pants before pressing your whole foot against his erection— noticing how there's still about 3 inches that your foot doesn't cover, jesus christ—

"What's this, then?", and you push your foot harder into him, and Simon gives a low moan, from deep in his chest— and he lowers his head, eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging open.

"Well? I asked a question and I did say it in english."

Simon raises his head and his eyes are glossy, scar across the corner of his upper lip whitening with how he thins them before answering.

"Oh, my Mistress, my Queen. I'm just so happy you're here, giving me your complete attention," and in a quieter, vulnerable tone says, "I missed this. Missed you."

That has your heart pounding against your rib cage. You clench your jaw— you cannot show Simon how exhilarated those words make you. You've been harboring the tiniest crush on Simon, and how could you not? Look at him. 6 foot 4, 320 pounds and he submits so beautifully. You'd ruin him. And with the small feel you've gotten from his cock, he'd definitely ruin you. But not now. Simon deserves a reward for being so good and obedient.

"Go on, pet. Show me how much you've really missed me. For you, I'll permit your release." Only for you.

Hands flying to his zipper, he takes his thick, long length out— what a fucking cock it was too, you can't wait to get your hands on it— he starts stroking it, skin bunching up at the flared head on the upstroke and Simon presses his thumb down on his slit. He lets out a hiss as he starts smearing the pre-come around the head and then smooths out the skin on the way down.

Your arm is stretched out holding your weight as you lean to the side, head tilted and you flick your eyes to Simon's face and you startle— Simon's holding direct eye contact, tongue wetting his bottom lip and you can feel heat radiating from your cheeks at the intensity of his stare.

You don't look away though. You stare right into his eyes as the room starts to fill with faster paced, wet, skin slapping noises— and Simon's eyes roll to the back of his head as his eyes close and you look back down to his cock, so hard, swollen red and slippery with his pre-come.

You can hear his teeth grinding together, shoulders stiffening and tattooed forearm vascular with how tight he's squeezing his cock and he chokes out, "Please, Mistress. Let me come, let me come, I'm so close—god"

" Come for your Mistress, Simon. Be a good boy and come for me."

Simon moans loud as his back bows forward and he encircles your ankle with his hand to stabilize himself as his length spurts rope after rope of thick cum inches from your toes— continuously stroking himself through the aftershocks and into oversensitivity.

He puts both palms flat on the floor as he gulps in big shaky breaths, arms trembling slightly. You stand up, carefully stepping around his come, and slip into your heels. Simon raises his head to look at you and— look at that simple, empty expression. You want to sit on that face 'til he repeatedly taps your thick thigh, begging for air— and tell him to clean up his mess. You put on your jacket, close it with the belt and leave.

Your pocket vibrates with a text, and tap the screen to read the text.

Simon: I beg you, my Angel. Let me look at your beautiful pussy as I come, next time.

You: You know what to do.

And then a notification from your bank.

Simon Riley has deposited £4000.

Pressing your phone screen to your chin as hold in a squeal, you cannot wait to get your hands on him.

'Only ever for you.'

A/N: i'd give all the cod boys the gawk gawk without question. at the same time. and valeria can sit on my face til i stop breathing.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod smut #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut

[abbyromanoff]

If possible could you do a enemies to lovers for G!P Kate Bishop x Tracksuit Mafia Fem Reader where reader and Kate are having a fist fight that turns into a sex session that ends with reader becoming pregnant with Kate's baby

They Can’t Know

Pairings: Kate Bishop x reader

Word count: 2028

Warnings: violence, fighting, mafia’s, Kate has a dick, blowjobs, breeding kink, tummy bulges, daddy kink, praise kink, pregnancy, nicknames, flirty!Kate, small angst

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

“Stop fighting me!” The girl, who you found out was named Kate, yelled. She had you pinned down below her, your knees being freed as you took it as your shot to knee her in the stomach. She groaned, the small moment of weakness allowing you to take her arm and pin her down to be in your previous position. You quickly grabbed the knife from your pocket, placing it against her neck as you watched her struggle to escape.

“Please, I won’t hurt you, just let me go.”

“And who said I don’t want to hurt you?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to.”

“And how would you know that?”

“I can tell, Y/N.” Your eyes widened briefly before you relaxed, trying your best to hide any emotions she could use against you. You had never told her your name, but you guessed she had done some research on you beforehand. Smart move.

“I won’t let you kill her. Even if I have to take her spot, I will die protecting her.” She furrowed her eyebrows as the oxygen started lowering in her body. If she didn’t stop you soon, she knew this would be close to her last breath.

“Who is ‘she’ meant to be?”

“Maya Lopez. I’m not letting you near her.” That only confused her more. She wasn’t here for Maya, she was here for someone else. She had yet to know his name, only knowing he lacked a great amount of hair and was on the larger side. He had conversations with her mother, conversations she later learned led to her father's death when she was little.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She struggled to get the words out. You noticed her breath shortening even more and removed your arm from her neck in fear.

“What do you mean you don’t know? Of course, you know! You’re here to kill her.” Kate coughed multiple times and rolled over on the floor, trying her best to gain the little strength she had left in her.

“I’m not here to kill her, I’m here for him.” She grabbed a photo of the man she was after, watching as the gears turned in your head. You let out an embarrassed sigh and stood up, walking over to her and awkwardly offering your hand to help her stand. You could see the red marks staining her neck, the guilt building up even more.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I-I thought-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, I understand.” There was a small silence filling the area before she released a chuckle. You looked back at her, silently urging her to speak, anything to fill this unpleasant quiet nature.

“These marks definitely won’t be going away for a while.” She noticed your guilt-ridden face and shook her head.

“Don’t feel bad, sweetheart, they’re not that bad.” She said, “If anything, they’re kinda hot.” You laughed at her words, slowly trailing over to her and motioning for her to look up. She did as you asked. You examined her red skin while her eyes couldn’t leave you. She watched the concentration on your face with a smirk, the woman you just beat up was being cared for by you so gently, it was almost as if you hadn’t just choked her out. You finally caught on to her glances and nervously looked back down.

“Don’t look away, sweetheart. You’re beautiful.” She snapped her fingers in front of your face to get your attention back on her.

“Are you seriously trying to fuck me after I just tried to kill you?” You crossed your arms against your chest as she stared at your breasts, they were practically calling her name. She licked her lips and moved her eyesight back to be inline yours.

“Hm?”

“Did you even hear what I said?” She nodded, clearly lying her way out of it.

“Okay,” You started, “Then tell me what I said.” She closed the small space between you two, imagining your plump lips on hers. Your fit body beneath hers once more, but this time, it won’t be due to a fight. Her hand made contact with your cheek, cupping your soft face and pulling you closer until you could feel her breath against yours.

“I think you were saying something about how badly you wanted me to kiss you right now.” She trailed on, not being able to waste another second and connecting her lips with yours in a hurry. Her hands found place on your lower back near your butt as your placed themselves on her chest, slowly going down as the kiss progressed. You could feel her hardened length pressing against your core, begging for any sort of touch.

When it got difficult to breathe you finally released her lips, your eyes widening as you backed away from her lust-filled self.

“Kate, we can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You had just kissed her, practically made out with her and now you were denying it?

“If my boss finds out-”

“Don’t worry about her right now, baby, just think about this.” She could see you debating with yourself on what you wanted to do. You wanted more than anything for her to fuck you, have you make a mess all over her until you couldn’t take it anymore. But you knew the consequences as well. If Maya found out you had slept with someone she had been looking for for nearly 3 years, she’d kill you.

“Tell me you don’t want this.” Your lack of response caused her to continue. “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you. I bet you’re such a hard little worker, willing to ruin your wants for Maya’s needs. Are you my good girl, baby?” You nodded breathlessly.

“Yeah, you are. Now why don’t you get on your knees for me, love.” Your knees hit the ground with a small force, your hands trailing to her pants. You cupped her covered length and smiled as you could hear her breath hitch. She smiled and fluttered her eyes shut, your fingers slowly unzipping her jeans until she was left in just her boxers.

“Stop being such a tease and just-”

“Just what, Katey?” Her cheeks reddened at the nickname, you took notice.

“C’mon, Kate, tell me what you want me to do.” You mimicked her words from earlier, chuckling to yourself as she groaned in frustration.

“Just- fuck me already!”

“Now, now, baby, didn’t your mother ever teach you some manners?” She was nearly fed up with you, it wasn’t the time to tease, she was desperate. Her cock was dripping in pre cum as you slowly trailed her boxers down her legs.

“Please, Y/N. Please fuck me.”

“That’s more like it.” Your hands went up and down her hips for a split second before finding their way to her leaking cock. You wrapped it around her length and kissed the head, smiling as you caught the small taste of her.

You made her feel things no woman had ever made her feel. She was in need of more, your mouth wasn’t enough. And when she fucked your face with little to no mercy, she could only imagine how your pussy must’ve felt. Your walls gripping her with dear life as she filled you up until you were dripping.

“Lay down, baby, I need to fuck this sweet cunt.”

“Fucking on a rooftop, real romantic, don’t you think?” Her cock prodded at your hole, her fingers finding their way to your pulsing clit. Her lips attacked yours in a frenzied haze. She couldn’t get enough of you, of your body, of the way you fit so well in her arms.

“My perfect little girl, so pretty you are.” Her free hand went to your nipples under your shirt, pinching and tweaking them until you were squirming beneath her.

“Shh, it’s alright, my love. I’m gonna take care of you, I promise.” You nodded, the words trying to escape only failing as the pleasure became unbearable.

“Kate-” You gasped out. “I need you. I need you inside of me.” You cupped her cheeks and made her stare directly into your eyes, her pupils being dilated and blown out. You were just the same, staring at her with a certain want in your eyes.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you your manners, hm?” She mocked, listening to your whines with a grin. You could feel her slowly filling you up, your mouth letting out a gasp before dropping open as moans tumbled out of you. She kissed your forehead, letting her lips linger for a moment too long.

“Tell me when I can move, okay?” She waited patiently as you adjusted to the stretch. You had never felt so full. You knew it was wrong, yet, it felt so sinfully sweet. You prayed nobody would ever find out about this, but you didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to consider the consequences, you just wanted her.

“You can move, Kate.” You mumbled out, your hand interlocking with hers as she started a slow yet harsh pace. You bit your lip as the fiery pain slowly faded into one of pleasure.

“Oh, daddy.” You moaned quietly, feeling Kate stop as she rendered what you had just said.

“What did you just call me?” Before you could apologize she continued, “Say it again.” Hearing those words leave your lips was like heaven. She couldn’t help the way she thrusted into you with such force, you drove her insane.

“Please, daddy, please fuck me harder!” Her hand snaked up to your neck, your breath being cut short as she choked you harshly. It was enough to leave a mark to tend to tomorrow, you assumed it was payback to the ones you left on her.

“That’s it, moan for daddy, baby. Be the perfect little slut I know you are.” The coil in her stomach tightened as you clenched around her.

“Fuck! Daddy’s gonna make you a mommy, baby. You want that? You want daddy to fuck you full of my cum?”

“Yes, daddy! Please fill me up, I need it so bad!” She tried her best to warn you, but she failed. Her release shot deep inside of you, filling your tight hole as she stilled. You snapped, the two of you finishing in sync. You scratched down her back leaving red marks behind. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, Kate’s hand resting on your stomach as she felt a small bulge. She grasped your hand into her own and placed it on your stomach once more.

“You feel that? You feel how deep I am inside of you?” The euphoric feeling was a long-awaited one. It had been months, almost years since you had felt that good. You didn’t want it to end, but you knew Kate couldn’t be seen near you. So, you soaked in the little time you both had left, holding her against you tightly and not letting go until she had to say goodbye once and for all. Just to be safe, she gave you her number, telling you not to call on your phone but a burner phone in case Maya tracked who you called.

It had been close to a month since that day and it had never left your mind. You’d lay in bed, all alone as you slowly fingered yourself, trying anything to get that same feeling you had with Kate. But as of late, you’d been beyond sick. You had a feeling you knew what it could be, Kate hadn’t worn a condom and while you were on birth control, it didn’t always work. You had called in sick, lucky enough to be granted the day off as you were closer to the boss and she knew how hard you’d been working. The timer went off, and you turned the test over and prepared yourself for the worst.

“Shit.” Two lines. Positive. You were pregnant. And it was Kate’s baby. The woman your boss had been after for years was going to be the mother to your child. What had you gotten yourself into?

#kate angst #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader smut #kate bishop angst #kate bishop smut #kate bishop fluff #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x gender neutral reader #kate x y/n #hawkeye x y/n #hawkeye #hawkeye x reader #hawkeye x you #kate bishop x fem!reader

[cyb-rdva]

Forever the name on My Lips

Grim Reaper x Reader (Gender-Unspecified)

A Date with Death Fic

Full Bad Ending Spoilers (Bad ending 2) + Name Spoilers

Note : out of all the endings I've gotten, this ending brought me emotional and physical pain in every way as if I'm being hit by a truck, and despite that, this one is the one keeping me up at night and the one I've been daydreaming about every since I got it.

There he was, sitting still as his gloved hands intertwined with your cold ones, you were cold and unmoving.. He wished it didn't have to end up this way, he made it clear to himself that he won't take your soul, he was willing to betray his oath just to be with you yet.. Here you are.

In his arms, pale and no longer breathing, the words you spoke on your last breath brought him so much pain

"Grim, I think I like you too"

The amount of pain he's feeling right now cannot possibly equal the pain that the sinners are experiencing, but it's definitely near. He feels as though his heart is being pulled apart, it made it hard for him to breath.

Tears that fell from his eyes seemed to be infinite, your corpse now drenched with his tears as he gently caresses your face.

Oh how much he wishes to hear you laugh at him, but in the end of the day, this was still his job.

Before he leaves, he kisses your lips softly, searching for the warmth he felt when you touched back then.

He lays you down softly to the bed, [Pet Name] on his arms, he exits through the window and into the pale moonlight.

His job was done, his peers cheered and yet, he never had ever felt so empty.

He held azrael in his arm, tears kept spilling, his heart just won't stop crying

In each sobs, he calls out your name, hoping that you'd answer

You hoped this was simply a dream, you were the first person he'd ever loved and the only one that he would love.

And now you're gone..

"What am I supposed to do with my heart now?"

In every momentum, you had never left his mind, in every soul reaping that he ever does, the memories just kept on creeping back to him like a restless ghost.

And in every second, your name was the name he calls as the night sky pitied him greatly.

In every faces he'd come by, he looks for yours in hope you'd meet once again and maybe get a second chance.

The world is cruel, only death is fair

Why did you have to be gone? Just as when he'd gotten too attached, you'd decided to give away your soul, leaving him behind.

It was torture.

There is no Fairness in life after all.

Songs I recommend listening to while playing through the bad ending 2

If this was a movie - Taylor Swift

Talking to the moon - bruno mars

Haunted - Taylor swift

Promise - laufey

Running up that hill ( a deal with God) - Kate bush

Last kiss - Taylor swift

I want you - mitski

Francis forever - mitski

#a date with death #grim reaper #Casper a date with death #A date with death x reader #two and a half studios #x reader #visual novel #bad ending #grim reaper x reader

[cinamonqirl]

Wicked Games

(Smut)

⁀➴

Top! Kate Bishop x Bottom! Female Reader

summary: You and your girlfriend are getting ready for party but you still have some time…

A/N: I need Hawkeye season 2 right now. This is the best I have ever written 😶‍🌫️

I appreciate every reblog and like 💝

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

"Kate stop, I'm trying to do my make-up" You say laughing when she start to tickle your waist.

She starts to chuckle at your reaction as she lean forward and continue tickling you around your waist "Make-up can wait, you look gorgeous already" she put her chin on your head, smiling at you in the mirror.

"You're such a dork" You say sarcastically rolling your eyes at her words, but continue to put your blush on your cheeks. She don't respond but instead she tickle you one more time making you mad.

You roll eyes, looking for a second at her in the mirror reflection letting her know it's enough. "If you won't stop I'll punch you, and trust me your mother won't be happy when you will arrive like that" You say half deadly serious but also with smirk. You both are going to formal party which Kate's mother invited you to. You still have much time but you both like to gather up quicker. Your comment makes her laugh, but she wouldn't be surprised if her girlfriend would hit her. Because when you’re mad you can be really assertive.

"Well, I'm just trying to enjoy the view while I can" She can't help but smirk even though you're 'serious'. Her hands on your waist still aren't moving but holding you even tighter.

"You really like that dress I’m wearing?" You say in seductive voice meaningly. You know this dress can make her want to rip it off you, especially by tight and short design. She can admit she love it and hate it because the shortness provokes her.

She smirk "Yes… really" She say in low voice leaning down a little to kiss your shoulder and whisper in your skin "Can't wait to take you out of it either" she brushes her nose into your skin smelling your sweet perfume.

"Who said you are going to take it off me later?" You say teasingly turning around to her with your back pressed into desk. Your hands immediately went to her chest fixing her black shirt.

She’s not surprised by your feistiness "And who's going to try and stop me?" She say as her smirk raises into a smug look with a slight eyebrow raise as she squeeze your waist.

"Your mother will stop you if we will be late" You say playfully, wrapping your arms around her neck looking up at her eyes.

Snort escapes from her mouth shaking her head at you "There’s still much time and I can do this right now" Her low voice was quiet and hot making your stomach feel warm.

"Now?" You giggle softly seeing how much she craves you right now. Archer started to kiss your neck slowly brushing your skin with her breath. She hummed in response kissing your shoulder stroking your dress strap with her teeth "Even if we were a little late, my mother would still forgive us" She continued to murmur. You hum pulling her closer by her neck barely listening to her when you’re in heaven.

You moved your head to the side giving her much space while she can hear your little panting. You felt her hands on your hips clenching so she can raise you up for you to sit on desk. It’s crazy how easy she can do that.

She kissed your shoulders one couple times before she pulled away slowly "You know, she likes you" Archer added smiling smugly at you, looking down at your thighs to start playing with the material of the end dress which ended really high on your thighs when you’re sitting.

"I'm glad" Your smile grow bigger at her words. You really liked her mother too. You’ve always had so much in common and many topics to talk about so you’re happy to know that.

"She always tells me to treat you well because you’re a good girl" She says with smirk in her face being proud to say that. You noticed she’s really happy with that fact. You giggled at her confession and her eyes immediately went back to you. "Am I treating you enough?" She asks squinting her eyes with that charming smile putting hands on the side of yours thighs. She knows she treats you the best she can but she likes to play with you.

"Maybe" You say playfully smiling slyly. She run her tongue through inside of her cheek staring deeply into your eyes. You can feel the need between your legs when she looks at you like that.

"Maybe?" She repeated after you playfully, lowering her head down to look at your bare thighs, and you followed her gaze. She smiled smugly, carefully spreading your thighs a little bit with her hands. You carefully watched what she was doing, already feeling excited at her movements.

"What’s something I can do to make you feel well treated, my love?" She asks teasingly keeping her hands to herself waiting for your response, like a whole gentleman. She’s playing and you like it. The sexual tension makes you both want more and more.

You pretend to be thoughtful but you exactly know what you want "Hm, my legs are a bit of cold" You replied meaningfully shrugging your shoulders with smirk on your lips. She understood your point perfectly as she snort moving her hand to your thigh slowly running up and down. "Is that better?" Her voice was smooth and low enjoying your skin with her hand.

"Mhm.." You hummed in response staring blankly at her veiny hand on your thigh feeling like you’re losing your mind at her touch. "You like it too?" Your question surprised her.

"More than yes" Her smirk was something that made you melt right now. You breathed deeply craving her fingers inside you. The muscles in her arms tense up and the grip in her hands tightens as she feel your soft breaths and see your cheeks blush pink. Her hand squeezed your thigh, brushing at your skin, making you feel lightheaded.

She noticed that you were already at the end of your endurance. "Can you do it harder..?" You asked quietly flustered with her gently touch. You needed more.

"Harder?" Her smirk turns into a sly grin as she raise one of her eyebrows at your request so she started to squeeze and caress your skin harder than before. She slightly looked at you, wanting to see your reaction as her grip tighten around your skin, really close your panties. You bite your lip as her fingers slid a little into your panties, driving over the material teasingly.

She hear your panting and she want to do more to you. "How about I kiss them instead?" Her smile grew bigger as she saw your reaction when her hand went lower, brushing over your sensitive spot.

Your look in the eyes where enough for her so she lowered her head to tease you with breath on your skin. You see her playing so you take your hand and place it on her head pulling her down so you can finally touch your thighs with her lips.

Her smirk stays on face as she feel your hand on her head and you pressing down on her head makes her feel like she have no choice but to do what you ask. Her mouth opens and her lips move onto your thigh, kissing it as she feel your body tense up and your soft moans make her want you even more. She kissed your skin slowly and gently but quickly she started to bite your skin leaving hickeys on your sensitive skin. Without hesitation you moaned feeling the best.

You leaned back resting your hands on the desk. She take advantage of it so she stopped for a while just to aggressively pull your fabric of dress higher to you hip line. She noticed your lace underwear, she bought you the other day. "You look sexy" Archer complimented you, then immediately started kissing your thighs higher and higher till she reached your hip line, stroking your panties with her teeth. No one could ever imagine how divinely you felt right now. She took your one leg and place it on her shoulder so she can kiss your inner thighs. That move was really sensual for you. You can feel your heart pounding so fast.

"Shit Kate…" You pant being at the edge of moaning, when she bite your thigh just few inches away from your sensitive spot. She can feel your whole body hot and really enjoying this which made her want to do more and more. She bite and kiss your thighs making the marks darker and more noticeable.

"I’ll have to hide it" You say looking at your thighs all over with hickeys.

She smirk then move her mouth higher up your thigh "Do you think you can walk afterwards?" She ask flirtatiously in low voice, before giving your thigh another forceful bite. You don’t care if you won’t be able to walk, it’s to amazing to care about it now.

"You will have to carry me" You reply teasingly still wanting to play. She chuckle deeply "I have nothing against" She raises her head to look at you.

"Can I take off your panties my lady?" Her breath was stroking your skin and her voice was so gentle, and you never would deny to her when she’s like this.

"Yes.." You reply excited at her words. She pull your panties gently to completely take them off. Her eyes was consuming you craving your taste. She takes your other leg and put them both on your shoulder so she can have better access, and she gently pull you closer so she can do what she want. Your body was in heaven right now.

She started to kiss your thighs again then slowly wander to your clit at lick you slowly. You moaned feeling her tongue inside you. "Fuck.." You pant throwing your head back in pleasure. You felt more hot and hot each second.

She lick and suck your clit and it was enough for you "fuck you’re so hot" She chuckle dipping her tongue deep into you, then immediately started to massage your clit with her fingers to end your suffering. You was completely choked, breathing heavily and moaning staring to feel your legs shaking. Of course archer noticed it so she on purpose made her movements even faster, and even though you’ve already came, she wanted you to made you feel better so she didn’t stop.

"Fuck Kate" You moan having already overwhelmed. She pulled her tongue out of you but continued to massage your clit way slower now. She clenched her jaw seeing your back arched. "Enough?" She chuckled stopping her movements.

Without your response she took your legs from her shoulders to place them back on the desk but she hold you close to her as you try to calm down. She wipes your juices from under her mouth with her thumb as if it’s just dinner. You pull her by your hands on her shirt to passionate kiss. After seconds of make out you pulled away. "Kate I think I won’t be able to walk because of you" You say with little smirk barely feeling your legs.

"We still have time to that party" She added smirking at you. "You can spread it out" She chuckle "and cover" biting her lip while looking at marks on your skin.

#kate bishop #kate bishop smut #wlw #gxg #kate bishop x y/n #marvel #dating kate bishop #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x reader smut #hawkeye #daddy kate bishop #kate bishop imagine #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop hawkeye #hailee steinfield #marvel imagine #marvel wlw

[lovsalvatore]

You’re a mess

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Summary: Natasha tries to tell herself that she’s not jealous, but it's obvious that's the way she feels while looking at you talking to your friend across the room.

Warnings: +18, Minors DNI! smut, Nat has a penis, unprotected sex, bathroom sex, breeding kink, degradation, praising, hair pulling, spanking if you squint, age gap, infidelity, no aftercare as usual lol, fingering, a bit of edging, marking, choking, rough sex, jealousy and possessiveness.

Word count: 6.5k

a/n: after 3 weeks… here u (finally) go ✰ series masterlist, main masterlist

Natasha tries to pay attention to whatever her wife is saying in front of her, but the way your friend touches your shoulder and sits so close to you distracts her. You haven't noticed yet, but she's been looking at you all night.

Tonight's performance — the one in which you've been rehearsing for weeks — was simply amazing, your first time being a soloist couldn't have been better. However, the absence of your parents in the audience made you a little upset, but you're already used to it, and with all the applause at the end you felt for the first time that you didn't need their approval to do what you like. You just felt proud of yourself, knowing that you can play such a difficult piece so easily, and even better, for hundreds of people and without missing a note.

And of course, there's her. The look she gave you when the last note of the symphony was played is something you want to keep with you for a lifetime. She was also proud, and that's enough for your heart to warm even more with all these emotions you've been feeling lately. Emotions that Natasha feels too, but in a very different way.

As a tradition, every time there's a big orchestra event there's also a celebration dinner, and today was no different. You're sitting on a sofa in the house of one of the producers of tonight's event, listening to your friend chatter about all the tourist attractions she wants to visit during tour.

Meanwhile on the other side of the room, the Maestro is trying not to break the glass of champagne she's holding in one hand, watching you smile at a girl other than her. She's trying to tell herself that she's not jealous, that wouldn't make any sense. But it's a fact that she's hating every second of this interaction between you and your friend. Kate. If she'd known you were that close, she wouldn't have put the violinist's name on the list. She thought you were just friends for convenience, not that outside the auditorium you had a friendship too. She thinks about how you're going to travel the world together, and that the plans she had with you might be interrupted because of your friend. She could even take Bishop's name off the list, but now it's too late, and she knows you wouldn't forgive her for that.

"Natasha?" the redhead takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes for a few seconds before turning her attention back to her wife. This is the first time Maria has appeared at one of the celebratory dinners, and everyone seemed surprised to finally see Natasha's wife. Because she rarely wears a wedding ring, there are people who didn't even know she was married, Maria noticed all the stares and whispers her way, but she decided to ignore it. "Did you hear what I just said?" the brunette asks with worried eyes.

"Hm? What?"

"My god, where did you go?" she giggles, but her wife remains serious, looking your way again and noticing that this time you're the one with your hand on your friend's thigh. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you have to put your hand there? Can't you keep a distance while talking? The Maestro clenches her jaw, starting to get annoyed by it all. She's been holding back for weeks now, trying not to get too close to you so she doesn't end up doing something stupid in front of everyone, she was planning to be with you again only when you guys were far away from this country as it would be safer — not that she minds that much — but she's starting to think that waiting that long isn't the best idea. "I said I think I'm gonna go, I'm kind of nauseous."

That's enough for Natasha to pay all her attention to her wife. "What? Do you want me to take you home?" she's worried, she really is, it's her wife after all. "Did you eat something that made you feel sick? Did you drink something?"

Maria smiles when she sees her wife's concern, and thinks that the Maestro could be like this all hours of the day if she weren't such a busy woman. "Oh no darling, I'm fine, I think it's just tiredness." Natasha nods, but her worry doesn't completely evaporate. "And I'll ask Martin to come get me, I don't want you to leave without even eating the dinner they cooked just for you."

"It's not just for me..."

"Still, you're the conductor, you play the most important role in the orchestra, I'm sure they'll want you to stay even after dessert."

Natasha smiles weakly, and nods her head again. For a few seconds she just focuses on her wife's well-being. They've been married for four years now, not a long time, but not recent either. They've been through a lot together, and even though the marriage is good at times, most of the time they're yelling and throwing all sorts of curse words at each other. Yet, the Maestro sometimes feels bad knowing she's cheating, but it's happened so many times over the years that the guilt just seems to not be a problem for her anymore. She knows it's wrong and she also knows her wife isn't the most faithful woman in the world either, so that makes things less worse. She thinks about what it would be like if she tried to fix her marriage, try to make it work, but as soon as Maria says goodbye with a quick kiss on her lips, and finally walks out the front door, those green eyes end up landing on you again, and she realizes that even if she wanted to she wouldn't be able to stop wanting you. She's fucked, she knows it, but unfortunately for her she's not tired of you yet.

You're laughing out loud at something Kate said, resting your forehead on her shoulder as you try to wipe away the happy tears. Natasha just stares, waiting for you to notice. And that nagging feeling in her chest just grows by the second watching you look so happy without her.

"We could even go to the Eiffel Tower, but everyone goes there, we have to be different from the others, don't you think?" you just nod, trying to forget about the joke your friend told you a few seconds ago, and straighten up on the couch. "But like, if you want to go..."

"I mean, I always wanted to go there to be honest." you look at your phone screen, seeing images of the various places you two can visit in France. It has many interesting museums and beautiful parks. You also think about where you're gonna get the money to be able to do all the things you want during this tour, you expect your parents to support you at least in that. "Hmmm... there's this museum-." you start to speak but frown your eyebrows when you see a message from Natasha appear at the top of the screen. She hasn't texted you since you two exchanged phone numbers a few days ago, you thought she would never send you anything, you're not complaining either.

Maestro: Need to talk to you.

You lift your face trying to look for her among the other guests, and it doesn't take long for you to spot her across the room, already staring at you. You can tell just by looking at her that something is wrong, or at least that something is bothering her. Her gaze shifts quickly to your friend sitting next to you, and for a moment you think that might be it, but of course she's not jealous of you, right? You, on the other hand, couldn't contain that feeling when you saw her wife walk through the front door. You know it's pointless to be jealous of the woman she's literally married to, but you can't help but wish you were in her shoes.

Noticing your delay in responding, Natasha just sends you one more message, telling you that it's really important, and without wanting to keep her waiting, you just excuse yourself to Kate, saying you have an important call to take. As you make your way down whatever hall Natasha is taking you, you pray that this conversation won't take too long, that you'll still have time to eat the dinner they're serving later. Adjusting the hem of your dress you start to feel a little nervous when she stops in front of a door, one of the last in the hall, before grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you into a bathroom.

It's completely dark for a few seconds before the Maestro locks the door and turns on the lights. You lean your body against the wall, waiting for her to start saying something, but she stays in complete silence, staring into everything but your eyes. She hates herself for being like this, she doesn't understand why she can't say what she's feeling. Natasha doesn't want to see you smiling at other girls, but she also doesn't want to admit that she was uncomfortable watching your interaction with Kate.

She doesn't want you to know about this effect you have on her, an effect that even she doesn't fully understand yet. The silence starts to get awkward, and you wish you had the courage to do something, say something, touch her, especially make her feel good since you know that's probably what she wants right now, but you can't do it without her having the initiative. She plays with the lapel of her suit, feeling her heart pounding with all the thoughts she's having right now. She wants to curse you out for sitting so close to your friend, she wants to show you how much she hates the fact that you make her feel this way. But she can't find the right words without her sounding like an obsessed madwoman.

But if she knew that's really all you want to hear, she'd probably say it without a second thought. You want her to show how much she wants you in words, but as proud and selfish as Natasha is, she might never say out loud how she really feels. "So... are you gonna say something or..." you say in a low tone, and seem to try to sink even deeper into the wall behind you when she takes a step forward. She's looking down at your exposed legs as she takes off the top of her suit before throwing it on top of the toilet. She's angry, and she knows that talking about it would be better, but she thinks it's easier to show it with actions. "I..." you swallow hard, feeling her delicate fingers brush over your thigh. "You... I thought you-."

"Shut up."

The words come in a whisper from her lips before you feel them on your neck. She wants to mark you, she needs to know that when others look at you, they'll know that you already have someone. Even knowing that you're not exclusively hers, she kinda feels that way, for her no one but her deserves to touch you, and it may be hypocritical of her to think that way when she literally has a wife, but she doesn't care. Her hand starts to move up between your legs as she moves her mouth to your sweet spot, sucking on your skin with the intention of leaving a mark there. It feels good, but then you remember the way she was looking at you and how something is bothering her, you would even try to talk but you never talk about anything when you're alone, and it's also hard to formulate words when she sucks so hard on your neck, throwing every possible shiver down your spine. "Nat-." you try to push her away realising what she's doing, but she just presses her body even harder against yours, moving her face to the other side of your neck.

Natasha closes her eyes as she works her lips on your skin, marking you without even caring if you would want this or not. She's just thinking about what she wants now, how obsessed she is with your body, and how she wants it to be full of marks made by her. She gets lost in the way your perfume invades all her senses, lifting her hand high enough to get it playing with the lace of your underwear. "I want you." she whispers softly against your neck, trying to tell herself that that's all it is, that she just wants you, not that she needs you. You have to close your eyes tightly as she sucks your skin hard, grinding lightly against your leg for you to feel how hard she already is for you. "Are you gonna let me play with you for a bit, hm?" you're already a mess before you nod, feeling her stop sucking the skin on your neck to just spread kisses, moving up to your jaw, to your cheek, until she pulls away to look into your eyes.

It's strange how her gaze can change so much from one moment to the next, and how each one of them makes you feel something different. You start to remember all the times she looked at you like this even before the first time you were together, and you wonder if she always looked at you with ulterior motives. You feel small around her, and you think that feeling of inferiority you have in relation to her will never go away, but that is not a problem for you either, you even like it.

Biting your bottom lip hard and looking down as she starts circling your clit through your underwear, being able to feel the way your wetness spreads over the fabric. You love the way she doesn't even have to look to know the right place to touch you, knowing that either way she's always gonna take a reaction from you. You don't want to take too long not to look suspicious, but you know you won't be able to stop yourself once she starts. You keep looking down, noticing the bulge that starts to appear in her pants, arching your back in anticipation, but then you feel her fingers squeezing your jaw, making you look at her again. "Eyes on me." she says, wanting you to see that the only one who can make you feel this way is her, she wants you to see the desire she has for you, knowing very well that you feel for her too.

She starts by slowly sliding the fabric of your underwear to the side before you finally feel her fingertip teasing your entrance. She groans at how wet you are, and that only makes you even more aroused. You exhale heavily as she rubs her finger across your slits a few times until reaches your clit, her cold fingertips bringing you to literally heaven. "I love how wet you always are for me." she admits, making slow movements while all you can do is just look into her eyes. She wants to tell you that she doesn't want to see you with anyone else but her, only her can make you feel this good, she also needs to hear you saying it, she needs to be sure of that, or else she'll start going crazy. "You're always so needy." she laughs dryly, putting more pressure and speed on your bundle of nerves. You press your lips together, resting your head against the wall behind you, finding it increasingly difficult to keep looking at her. "Tell me, can anyone else make you feel this way hm?"

You immediately shake your head from side to side, thinking she already knew the answer without even having to ask you. Like, who else could? She was your first, and right now you're not attracted to anyone but her. "Only you." you reply in a breathy voice, gripping her shoulder and unable to contain a moan when she surprises you by sliding two fingers inside you. It really feels like you'll never get used to it, the pleasurable pain whenever you have her inside you is a feeling you can never seem to get enough of. "Fuck Nat-." she lets go of your jaw to press her palm against your mouth, not waiting a second to start fucking her fingers fast into you.

"Shhh, don't make too much noise." even though she would love for everyone to hear how good she makes you feel, she knows the timing isn't the best for her to let that happen. "You'll be nice and quiet for me okay?" you just try to nod your head, the heat starting to build each second with her so close to you, and her fingers feeling so good in your cunt. The way your walls squeeze her fingers just makes Natasha even harder, something her wife can never do that easily. The only way she's been able to have sex with the woman she's been married to for four years is by thinking about you, she wasn't lying when she admitted it to you. And it's not like her sex life with her wife is very active, she always ends up just touching herself thinking about you, and how she didn't want you to be the only person she thinks about at times like that. But that's what happens, and she can't do anything to get you out of her head.

You whimper against her hand, moving your hips forward to match her movements. The way her pupils dilate when looking at you just makes you even more mesmerized by her green eyes, and how you think about them almost every hour of your day. She just really knows how to make you feel like you're in another planet by using literally anything, any way she touches you makes you feel inexplicable things. You feel her pumping her fingers into your cunt, and how her palm slams against your clit with her every movement. You want to move your hand from her shoulder and slide down her body until it stops at the bulge you can feel against your thigh, but instead you just dig your fingernails on her skin, the fire in your abdomen growing by the second with an embarrassing speed

Her cheeks are flushed as her gaze locks on the expressions you make for her, pushing her fingers inside you down to her knuckles. She keeps her movement fast, increasing the pressure of her hand against your mouth every time she senses you're about to moan loudly. "Fuck." she groans at the wet noises, wanting to be inside you so badly, wanting to ruin you like she always does. The Maestro feels her cock pulsing inside her pants, and it’s good but very uncomfortable at the same time, while you roll your eyes, feeling her curl her fingers upward, hitting your weakest spot and bringing you incredibly close to the edge.

“Fuck… I love your pussy.” she gasps and brings her face down to your neck again, leaving nothing but light kisses. “I just love how tight you are and how you clench around me… so fucking hot.” she presses her thumb against your clit as she continues to sink her fingers into you, smiling at the way your sounds are muffled by her hand.

It really takes moments for you to feel the bones in your body losing strength, the way her gaze burns into you leaving your head totally empty. "Hm- Nat-." you mutter against her hand, holding her wrist to slow her movements down a bit, but that's no use, you know if she wants to slow down, she's the one who's going to make the decision, and you're already so close that you actually don't really want her to stop now, your mind is just all blurred that you don't even know what you're doing anymore. It's even getting hard to breathe, but you try to hold it for a few more seconds, something that's practically impossible to do.

She decides to leave one last mark on your neck, flicking her tongue at your pulse point slowly. You're hers, that's what she means when she again pulls away, seeing the red and purple marks on your skin. “You look so beautiful like this.” she wants to push your hair back so she can see her work better, but instead she just keeps stifling your moans, pulling her fingers in and out of your pussy feeling your juices wetting most of her hand. “So fucking pretty for me detka.”

Natasha notices how you start breathing harder through your nose, squeezing her shoulder tightly and moving your hips forward. So she just keeps going until she feels like you're almost there, she feels the heat spreading through her body as it spreads into yours, but as soon as you're ready to come all around her fingers she quickly stops, leaving you totally frustrated and wanting more. She wants to laugh at your disappointed expression, knowing she can do whatever she wants to you, and in the end you'll still thank her for it. "Aww, did I ruin your fun baby?" she smiles, taking her hand away from your mouth, and you finally manage to take a deep breath, feeling her slowly slide her fingers out of your pussy. It's as if she intentionally wants to tease you when she roams her fingers through your folds, avoiding touching your clit as much as possible. She spreads your slits, teasing your entrance and watching as you try to move your hips to get more of her. "Sorry... it's just... I want to have a bit of fun too, you know?"

She looks at you with a pitying look, and when you realize she's going to walk away, you hold her by the shoulder, not wanting her to stop touching you. It just feels so good, and you're practically begging her to let you come. "Oh detka, you're so cute." she gives a sardonic chuckle, finally pulling her fingers away from you and leaving you completely craving for more. Your clit is throbbing, and the emptiness that remains is screaming to be filled again. Taking a few steps back she unbuttoned a few buttons of her white shirt before rolling up her sleeves. You're still leaning against the wall, breathing hard as you watch her lean against the sink. Your eyes get lost in the way only a bit of her chest is shown, and how her skin shines with sweat.

"Come here, why don't you help me with this hm?" she says as she grabs her cock over her pants, you follow the action with your eyes, seeing her fingers still glistening with your wetness. Natasha looks with pride at all the marks she left on you, wishing there were even more, she doesn't know where all this possessiveness came from, but she's not willing to change her mind about the fact that she thinks you're just hers. You flash an innocent smile before taking a few steps towards the Maestro — feeling like you could trip any second because of how your legs shake just from the bit of what she already gave you — replacing her hand with yours over the hard bulge.

She sighs and throws her head back when you gently squeeze her cock, playing with it a bit before moving to the zipper of her pants. Natasha just stares as you pull her shaft out, pressing your thumb into the tip and feeling her pre-cum wetting your fingertip. Her size feels even bigger when you close your hand around her thickness, your whole body reacts just by looking at it, and how much you love when she's using you to relieve herself. You're so needy because she didn't let you come seconds ago that you just want her to use you as soon as possible, you've stopped caring if people will think it's weird that you two disappeared out of nowhere, all you need now is her. When you're about to stroke her length, Natasha holds onto your wrist, and you don't have time to ask her what's wrong before she changes your positions, pressing your front against the sink, while standing behind you, moving the hem of your dress to the height of your hips.

You can see it in the mirror's reflection as she looks down at your body, and you try to prepare for what's about to come before you feel her entering you all at once. Maybe you'll never get used to her size, or maybe it's normal and it will still take time for you to be able to take it without feeling any pain. All you can do is grip the edge of the sink as you struggle to stay upright, feeling every inch of her stretching your cunt. "Oh fuck-." it comes out louder than you wanted, and as expected Natasha goes back to pressing her palm against your mouth while keeping her hips still, just feeling the way your walls tighten around her, and how good she feels inside you.

"Shhh, what the fuck did I ask you huh?" you whine quietly as she moves her hips back, only to move them forward again with a force that seems to make all the walls shake. You're just a squirming mess, not being able to look at her in the mirror's reflection as you feel her body heat burn you inside out. Your breath is already hitching by the time you feel your wetness run down your thighs, while Natasha stays still for a few seconds, before again letting just the tip inside your tight hole, this time using her hand to push your hips back, making you feel her cock entering you all at once again. You grunt against her mouth, but she wants to see you struggling to keep quiet, she wants to see you trying without her help. "I'm gonna put my hand down now okay? But you'll remain quiet, or else I'll have to stop."

She actually lowers her hand to your neck, tightening her fingers around your throat as she finally starts to move inside you. You have to concentrate really hard not to make any noise, gripping the edge of the sink so hard it feels like you're gonna break it at any moment. "Oh look at you." the Maestro says in a husky voice close to your ear, each time your hips meet making a loud noise echo in the bathroom. "You always take me so good, don't you?" her hand goes up a bit on your neck to make you look at her in the mirror's reflection, and you wish she hadn't, because now it just gets harder not to show with your voice how good she makes you feel.

As she looks at you, she remembers the way you were smiling at Kate, and how irritated it made her. She chokes you hard with that thought, as she thrusts deep inside you. She fucks you merciless, just wondering if you're ever gonna leave her for someone else, she squeezes her fingers tight around your throat like she doesn't want you to go anywhere but her arms. "You're only mine to use." she whispers more to her than to you, you're so focused on not screaming with pleasure, not releasing everything inside of you, that to you it's just another thing she says while she's so worked up, with no meaning behind it. "No one else can touch you like this, understand?" the words gets stuck in your throat as she doesn't ease her fingers around your neck, and as soon as you keep silent and don't answer her a loud smack noise invades your ears as you feel your skin burning from the slap she just gave you. It hurts, you never thought she'd really hit you like this, but it really felt better than you could ever imagine. "Do you understand?" she asks again, and you just nod your head, moving your hand up to her wrist to pull it away from your neck, not being able to breathe properly anymore.

It's no use, Natasha just uses even more force, making your vision completely blurred. “Hmmm fuck, you feel so good.” the way she pounds on you makes her shiver at the thought of you taking all of her thickness, how it's so easy to sink everything inside you because of how wet you are. She ends up gasping quietly, slowing down just to feel her sliding inside you, while you just dig your nails into her wrist, asking her to ease her fingers around your throat.

It works this time, at least, but then she switches between gripping your throat to wrapping the strands of your hair around her fingers, tugging hard. The maestro also has a hard time containing her moans, but unlike you, she manages to have more control over it. "Then you better not flirt with other people." now it's just jealousy talking, while Natasha rests her other hand next to yours on the edge of the sink. You don't know whether to focus on how good her cock feels abusing your cunt, the words coming out of her mouth, or how painful is the way she pulls your hair. "You don't want them to know what a slut you are, do you?"

"N-no." you look at yourself in the mirror, and at how your cheeks are smeared by the mascara that runs down your face along with the tears. You also see all the marks she left on your neck, and how ironic it is that she tells you not to show what a slut you are when she makes that obvious to everyone by marking you like that. You feel embarrassed about your state, but even more embarrassed about how close you are. Walls fluttering around her cock, which slips in and out of you with ease. You two are so lost in your feelings that you don't hear Natasha's phone ringing, so focused on your own pleasure that you don't even realize that enough time has passed for them to serve dinner. "Fuck, don't stop, please." you say in a breathy voice, the relief washing over your body when Natasha finally lets go of your hair. You feel her hot breath against your ear as she guides your hand to your own sex, pressing your fingers against your clit, and encouraging you to play with it.

You sloppily try to rub your nerve, feeling like every moment you could collapse with the way her thickness slides through your walls, but after a few tries your hand stops, unable to continue because of the way her cock makes you feel. That also causes the Maestro to stop, and you see the evil smile on her face and how she looks so innocently at you at the same time. "Go ahead, keep going." she asks you gently, her dick twitching inside you as she does her best to keep still. She lets out a shaking breath while resting her forehead on your shoulder for just a few seconds before looking back at you, waiting for you to do as she asked to get back to using you the way she wants. You take time, but also wanting her to fuck you again the way she was doing, you end up sighing heavily, clenching your jaw while you go back to stimulating yourself. It's hard to do though, but even so you make circular movements on your clit, even feeling sensitive you keep going, moving your hips to try to relieve yourself on her.

You thank the universe as she slowly moves inside you again, and you realize she's mimicking your slow rhythm, and you hate yourself for not being able to increase the speed. "Really?" she mocks you, smiling as she looks at you through the reflection. "Gosh, what a pathetic slut you are, don't even know how to touch yourself." she takes your hand again, but this time to press it against your lower back. Even if she wanted to tease you a little longer she wouldn't be able to, so she just pounds back into you hard, sinking her entire length with no care at all.

"Fuck... I bet you can at least come, can't you?" you nod frantically, feeling your body slam against the sink with every thrust she takes inside you. You try to move away a little by the way it hurts to feel your body colliding with the furniture every moment, but Natasha holds you tighter forcing you to stay still. "Yeah of course you can, just a needy fucking whore aren't ya?" you agree with her, didn't even know you get so turned on by those kinds of names until she started calling you by them, and especially now this is just the last straw for you to feel the climax building.

"Please..." you beg her with your eyes, finding it the hardest task of all to hold on for one more second because of the way she fucks you so hard, and for the Maestro is no different, she feels the first drops of her cum starting to release inside if you, and that encourages her to keep going. “Please Nat-.”

"Please what?" she purposely breathes heavily into your ear, feeling the way your walls spasm and contract around her dick, and how she knows she won't last much longer either. "Do you wanna come?" you nod, muscles tensing unbearably. "Fuck baby... want me to come with you hm? Want me to breed your pussy so good? Fill you up with my cum?" you just keep nodding over and over again before the orgasm slams against your body, Natasha following you right after and emptying herself inside you. “Fuck… that’s it baby.” you feel all the strength you had in your legs fading away, and the only way you find to stay on your feet is the way she holds you. She bites your shoulder to stop her moaning too loudly and you also have to control yourself not to make any noise. You feel it until her last load is released into your pussy, and how she just stands there for long seconds trying to pull herself together.

“You’re always so good to me, you did so good baby.” she praises you, slowly moving inside you, fucking every last drop of her cum inside your pussy. You feel like something is burning between your legs as she stops completely inside you, breathing heavily against the curve of your neck.

When the two of you finally come off the peak you take a moment to return to your normal breathing as you feel the discomfort that is when Natasha pulls out, her cum dripping down your thighs as she fixes your underwear and drags the hem of your dress down. She looks into your eyes through the mirror, and then gently cups your chin to turn your face to the side. "I'm the only one who can make you feel like this" you feel her breath hitting your lips, and how close her face is to yours. "You'll never let anyone touch you like that, only I can do it." it's not a question, more of a warning, and you as usual just nod whatever she says as you lower your gaze to her lips. You always think how soft they must be, and how good it must be to kiss them, and Natasha notices the way you tilt your face even further, making your lips just inches apart, and with that just completely pulls away from you. "Fix your makeup."

You take a deep breath, coming back to reality, wetting your hands with the water from the sink to clean your mascara-smeared face. You look at her in the mirror's reflection, and see the way she also fixes the wrinkles in her clothes, sighing heavily as she looks at the ceiling. You wanted to know what she thinks after you guys have sex, and why she never wants to talk to you properly after that. For you it’s something really complicated, but for Natasha it's an easy answer, she doesn't want to get attached. You also have to get some paper towels to wipe the mess on your thighs, while the Maestro just puts her suit top back on, and close her shirt buttons. You place your hand on your hip bone, feeling the sore area from the way it kept hitting against the sink, and think of all the bruises it could leave the next day. "Fuck." she murmurs looking at her phone screen once she finishes looking presentable. "Uhm... you need to go."

"I'm sorry?" you turn to face her, finishing arranging a few strands of your hair.

"They started serving dinner a few minutes ago, you should go, it will be suspicious if we show up together." she speaks casually, tucking her phone back into her pants pocket.

"But I... Nat I'm hungry and... Kate was gonna give me a ride back home." she rolls her eyes when you mention your friend's name, while you tell the truth, you were waiting all night for this dinner, having sex in the bathroom of a stranger's house really wasn't in your plans, but now you don't want to go before at least eating something. "You can go ahead, I'll wait a while and-."

"No." she interrupts you. "You can eat at home, take a taxi or something." she's trying not to sound too insensitive, she really doesn't mean to. But between letting you stay and maybe ruin her career and sending you home, she prefers the second option. "What do you need? Money?" she sighs heavily and impatiently, pulling her wallet out of her pocket and scoffing in disbelief when she notices that the only thing she has is a $100 bill. "Here."

“Natasha…” you stare at the bill she holds out to you, refusing to take it. “I can't I-.”

“Gosh just take it.” she grabs your wrist, and places the bill in your hand before tucking the wallet back into her pocket. She sees the expression on your face, and how hurt you look about it, but she can't throw years of career in the trash. “Look… I'm sorry okay? But I really need to go now, just make sure no one sees you when you're leaving… you… baby… you're a mess.” she moves closer to you to adjust the hem of your dress which is still way above your thighs, before lightly caressing your cheek with her knuckles. “Just, text me when you get home, right?”

You don't look at her before you hear the door close, you just play with the piece of paper in your hands. It's like every time she gets what she wants, you just become her apprentice again, not someone she shares such intimate moments with. But at the same time she makes you feel so important that you’re starting to accept this kind of relationship that you two have. Even deep down what you really wanted is for her to look at you the same way you look at her.

taglist: @eliii1sblog @florojas @wannabe-fic-reader @supaheroine @kksalexa @madelineleong @chibilauren @smromanoff @chiar4anna @cl-e @wifeofnatasharomanoff @ccinnamongrl

#my pianist series #wlw #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha #natasha romanoff x fem reader #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfic #wlw smut #istg if it flops……..