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randomshyperson · 6 months

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Sanctify - Cult Leader!Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Kinktober #06

Summary: After your worst semester at NYU, your Aunt Agatha convinces you to join the Children of Chaos as an alternative, and very expensive form of therapy. Leaving the cult becomes a very difficult task when you develop an unexpected affection for their leader.

Warnings: (+18), dom!wanda and brat!reader, rough smut, face-fucking, power dynamics, brat taming (ish), praising, lots of tension and teasing, definitely blasphemous on some levels, a lot of plot, mentions of past toxic relationship, unspecified age gap. | Words: 7.900k

A/N-> I’ve been dying to write something about Cult Leader Wanda since I watched the second season of Yellowjackets and became obsessed with Lottie Matthews, so while writing this, I was picturing Lottie’s cult to be fair. I also like how I ended this, as it makes it possible to turn it into a series. Good reading!

General Masterlist | Kinktober Collection | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

Although the movement of the car brought a gentle breeze through the window, the weather was hot enough to actually make thinking painful. In an attempt to relieve the temperature a little, and perhaps escape Aunt Aggie's provocative reminiscences about the long journey and the events that made this trip necessary in the first place, you put your arm on the door, and propped your chin up, your face on the safety edge outside the window.

New York had been out of sight for hours and had given way to countless trees and a plantation further and further away. You figured it wouldn't take long for the radio signal to stop working, but to your pleasant surprise, the soft melody of cassette tapes hidden in the glove compartment by Nicholas were picked up once that happened.

Your cousin had grown up over the summer - His still youthful appearance now featured neatly cut curly hair and reading glasses that he often hung on the collar of his shirt. When younger, it was common to hear how much he resembled Sir. Scratch, his scumbag father in the words of Agatha and the other adults, not yours - but over time, he looked much more like his mother.

Nick met your gaze through the rearview mirror and gave you an assuring smile. You didn't reciprocate, but not because you were upset. Just because you were distracted by the huge sign coming around the next corner.

"Oh, boy, I've missed this place." Agatha commented with a nostalgic sigh, as soon as she noticed the entrance plaque. She slowed down enough that the wind wasn't enough anymore, so you returned to your original position with a low snort.

"There's still time to turn around." You muttered, getting a warning look from the older woman.

She leaned over, without answering you, to grab something from the open glove compartment. You pushed your hair back as a pamphlet was dropped into your lap.

"I know you hated the idea, but you need to trust your elders for once in your life, darling." Agatha began, as you grimaced at the crumpled paper. The title Children of Chaos was painted in red, but it was faded in several places. "The 70s were the apex for this place, I had a lot of fun here. It's such a unique experience, connecting with nature and the chaos that is part of us all."

Nick chuckled through his nose. "Mom, don't start your witch thing again, you'll scare her." Mocked your cousin from the passenger seat, but Agatha waved him off.

"She'll thank me when she gets there, I'm sure."

But you didn't do that. When the car finally came to a stop, and what looked more like a fancy farm merged with the forest took over your vision, all you did was crumple the Immersive Community pamphlet into your pocket and throw your old backpack over your shoulder.

Aunt Aggie and your cousin hugged you tightly, saying they were going to write, but they couldn't get past the reception desk since they weren’t part of the program. You saw Agatha take your mom’s borrowed credit card out of her purse to start your so-called treatment, and the last goodbyes left your tongue before one of the tutors started the tour of the place.

In between presenting a large number of different huts that served as dormitories and classrooms for the most diverse activities - painting, handicrafts or poetry were the ones you memorized - Mr. Emil Blonsky also took the time to welcome you, emphasizing how incredible the community was and how lucky anyone was to be there. You bit your tongue to keep from telling him that only those with money could.

Finally, Blonsky showed you the stables and greenhouses on the edge of the property, and on the way back to the rest of the huts, you noticed the path up the hill.

"And what's up there?"

The man stopped walking with a small smile. He was wearing clothes very similar to those of the other people you'd seen on the tour, the difference being a golden necklace with a strange symbol that was hidden by the movement of his loosely buttoned shirt.

"We must not go up there without permission." He begins, although he's smiling, there's something in his gaze that says this rule cannot be disrespected. " The Prophetess' Retreat is a sacred place of peace and reflection."

You look back at the hut at the bottom of the mountain, far enough away that you can't make out the decorations on the balcony, but still beautiful and quiet, high enough to make it look like the prophet had her own little piece of heaven.

"So, no bothering the boss without asking? Got it." You retort, getting a chuckle from the other at the summary. He starts walking again along the path towards the general area, but you can't help the curiosity burning in your chest. "About this prophet, will she be isolated up there or will I get a chance to meet her?"

Blonsky walks up beside you, and looks you in the eye to say; "You'll meet her when it's time to meet her, not early and not late."

You don't know what to say to that, everything here is so theatrical in a way. Mystical, you might say. It suits Aunt Aggie so well, that it's not hard to imagine her here, dancing to the midnight moon and talking to the trees. She already does that in New York, it should have been much simpler in the middle of the forest.

"Come, child. You must start the cleaning process soon." Announces the man as he picks up the pace on the trail. With a sigh, you decide not to contradict him by saying that you bathed before coming, thank you.

It was soon revealed that the cleansing process really meant a bath - the colleagues around you who helped you laughed when you joked that it was a strange way of saying that someone stinks, before clarifying that it was nothing of the sort. The Cleansing Process was a bath of salts and herbs, in a tub of stones and some kind of botanical baptism, the latter of which only members who had completed thirteen full moons could take part in. You would be invited to the baptism with the prophet's blessing, but there was still a long way to go.

Blonsky handed your uniforms, and explained the last rules before leaving you alone, or almost, since your hut was shared with six other people, and despite this, it seemed very comfortable and organized. There were bunk beds and private bathroom spaces, and at least three spacious shelves for each. The latter wouldn't be of much use to you, since you'd brought almost nothing and the vast majority of your belongings had been left at NYU. Just thinking about that place gave you a terrible stomach ache: You would have skipped dinner, but the mere suggestion of not attending made one of your colleagues frown in concern and repeat the rules, so you ended up giving that up.

The routine that followed was calm: it didn't surprise you that the new members were responsible for the hardest tasks, and it didn't bother you either. You were never afraid of hard work, and keeping your hands busy also helped to calm your mind, so it was a win-win. Besides, even if you didn't get the jobs nobody wanted, all veterans had chores. There was some rule about the amount of service time and dedication being rewarded, so those senior members could choose what they wanted to do first.

You didn't have to worry about this anyway: you would do what you had to do because, after all, the agreement was to stay here only for the summer. However, with each passing day away from exams, traffic, and New York's typical filth, it became harder to imagine leaving the Children of Chaos and their strange harmony and kindness.

After three weeks in the group, you learned to knit. You also earned the privilege of mail when you showed up for all your appointments without delay and decided to check the items in the privacy of your cabin during the last hour of prayer.

Since you hadn't yet found your faith or received your calling or whatever weird way Blonsky explained this, you barely joined in the prayer sessions. This evening, excited to receive news from home, was no different.

Aunt Aggie wrote about the store doing well and mentioned your mother, who didn't write to you with more than vague words about hoping you'd feel better soon. The best present was hidden in Nicholas' letter about the university being a sack without his favorite cousin. Wrapped in silk and next to a lighter.

You haven't earned the right to write outside yet - something about a month in isolation to accomplish. So you just clutched the items to your chest and wished your cousin knew how grateful you were.

Your initial intention was to save the weed for some more stressful day - which was rare in the leisurely pace of this place - but the last letter made you consider using it all that night.

The recipient's perfect handwriting, and the address you knew by heart. You didn't even open the item, you put it away in your drawer and stood up with the weed hidden in your pants pocket.

The common area was empty, as the vast majority of your colleagues were praying. You stepped up to one of the bonfires and threw the unopened letter into the flames, without hesitation and without caring to see it burn. You turned on your heels and continued along the trail, heading for one of the few more secluded spots you had discovered during the hours of exploring between tasks.

The rules were clear about the prophet's hut but said nothing about the road towards it. And since apparently everyone there was afraid of upsetting the boss, that spot was always empty and the perfect place to smoke in hiding.

You leaned against a tree, curled up and lit the weed, and tried to keep away all the painful memories about last semester that the damn letter had brought up.

You were halfway through a joint when you heard a voice at the end of the trail next to you.

"Good evening, Y/N."

"Jesus fucking Christ." You gasped, jumping with fright and almost dropping the blunt to the ground. You looked sideways abruptly, imagining that you were hallucinating because of the weed, and were almost sure that you were when the words escaped you due to the apparition in front of you. The most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life. Instead of a uniform, she wore a loose dark wine dress that hugged her curves perfectly; her long red hair cascaded down her shoulders and back and her emerald eyes shone curiously in your direction. The dim light from the fire lamps scattered along the trail and the moon really made the woman look like an angel.

You coughed awkwardly. "Sorry, you scared me." You clarified, the cigarette hidden behind your back a stupid attempt to mask what you were doing. Sure enough, your pupils were dilated, and it was very easy to see the smoke. So, as soon as you tried to hide it, you gave up, offering the woman an awkward chuckle and gesturing the cigarette gently. "Don't tell on me."

There was a soft pause, which you couldn't tell from the intoxication in your system. The woman watched for a moment as the charming gesture of bringing the cigarette to the smile formed on your lips and blew the smoke into the starry sky with your neck slightly stretched. Your mind seemed to clear, and before the woman could speak, you grimaced. "Wait, didn't you just say my name? How..?"

She smiled, folding her hands in front of her body. "It was premeditated that we met today, of course. I'm Wanda."

You've heard her name before, in conversation circles and in advertisements about her heavenliness hanging around.

"Shit." It was your natural reaction, which made her laugh softly, and it must have been the weed's fault that the sound echoed in your mind and made your body shudder.

"Don't worry, I won't snitch on you." She assures you with an easy smile playing on her lips, and you swallow dry, completely at a loss.

"Thanks... but I thought you were the boss." You mumble, and Wanda makes a funny expression, like a false realization.

"Oh, you're right." She murmurs amusedly. "I think I can let this one slide if you'll share it with me."

"Fuck, of course, here." Your limbs feel strange, almost too heavy to move around her. You awkwardly hand her the cigarette, certain that your face is flushed. Hell, the last time you were this clumsy was last semester, with-

"You swear a lot." Wanda's comment pulls you out of your daze. She takes a long drag before adding: "Especially for a Christian."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "My father's a Christian, not me." You retort, and end up grimacing. "And how do you know-"

"This is a very exclusive program, sweetheart." Wanda cuts you off again, the cigarette between her fingers but her gaze is completely focused on your face. "Having a lot of money or being someone's niece isn't enough to guarantee you a spot, but a good letter of recommendation might. And Agatha wrote me almost everything about you, except the reason for rushing to get you here before the next recruitment period."

The sentence was an invitation for you to speak, but you didn't fall for the bait. On the contrary, you looked away with tense shoulders, and Wanda didn't press. At least, not now. She took another drag before commenting more softly:

"We have general meetings every Wednesday. We encourage members to open up."

You grimace softly. "Group therapy isn't my thing."

But Wanda smiles lopsidedly, giving you back the joint. " Neither is nice weed." She retorts a little provocatively, attracting your attention. "If you want to try something new, show up next week. And if you want to try something good, you should try the weed from our greenhouse. It won't taste like crushed dirt." Adjusting her hair around her shoulders, she offers you a wink. "Have a good night, darling."

You think about the color of her eyes for the rest of the night.

-&-

Sooner than you'd expect, you'll discover that Wanda isn't the type to let things slide. Far from it, she notices everything, especially those who are being too slack and prone to not following the teachings of the Children of Chaos, possibly ruining their record of total efficiency or something.

She puts an end to your plans for a quiet summer, trying to go unnoticed among the countless other followers just as abruptly as she left her meditation hut. Wanda seems to appear at every moment that you consider escaping from your commitments - it even occurs to you that she has a particular interest in watching you, but the idea sounds so absurd that you push it away while forcing a polite smile before returning to your duties.

Less than two weeks after you met, you finally stopped avoiding Group Therapy and showed up on time to join the session. The presence of Wanda, in a loose dark purple dress and her red hair tied up in a neat braid, makes you almost give up, convinced that you couldn't say anything without stuttering in the presence of such a stunning woman.

But she offers a gentle smile, opening her arms softly. "Come along, darling, you're just in time." She greets and you stumble towards a corner in the background, begging the gods that you can attend in silence this time.

It doesn't seem so difficult when it's other people doing it. A young man with whom you've already shared the task of looking after the stables spoke of the frustrations of returning from enforced service with a missing limb, and how the support he didn't get from the government and family members, he found here. Bucky received a finger-snapping applause - something that was explained to you as a way to avoid triggers on the countless ex-combatants or victims of post-traumatic stress that make up the crowd - before giving his turn to another ex-military woman, Carol Danvers.

More stories were shared until Wanda's gaze fell on your slumped figure and she called your name. All the attention in the room fell on you too, and you chuckled awkwardly.

"Thanks, but I'm not good at public speaking." You retorted, but Wanda, with her hands folded over her stomach, gave you a gentle smile.

"Don't worry about it, dear, this is a no-judgment zone." She says, but you make no mention of getting up, and her gaze becomes more insistent. "It's important that we all make an effort to be present at these exercises. We encourage participation around here. Come along, dear, please." And she smiled so kindly that you could only trust her.

The group offered a small chorus of encouragement, and before you knew it, you were a few steps away from the redhead, who held out her hands for your wrists.

"I want you to take a deep breath and close your eyes." Wanda guided, her melodic voice bringing goose bumps all over your body. "Turn all your attention inward. And tell me, is there anything in there that you'd like to share with the group?"

The memories of last semester hit you full force. But Wanda massages your wrists and it feels as if she can calm down the whole storm inside of you.

You sigh, before opening your eyes. "I... I don't know where to start." Your whisper is met by another chorus of support from the members, who retort that you're safe. Wanda releases your wrists to sit with the others, and you try not to be so self-conscious while you're in the spotlight. "I think I can share with you the reason why I'm here." You declare a moment later, taking another deep breath.

Bucky gives you an encouraging smile, mimicking that of the people around him, and you swallow.

"I don't have a history of fighting and overcoming war or any illnesses, so I'm sorry to disappoint anyone." You mumble, receiving confused looks.

The former sergeant assures you: "No problem competes with another. All our pains have their importance." And it seems to be something that has already been repeated here a few times because everyone shakes their heads in agreement.

You scratch the back of your head awkwardly. "Right... well, I won't beat around the bush. A month ago, when I was first enrolled here, I had just been kicked out of my house. Well, it wasn't exactly my house anymore, because I'd been living on campus for about three years, but I think you get the idea." You say, laughing awkwardly at the anxiety in your chest. You try to clear your throat so that your voice doesn't come out so shaky, but only Wanda's gaze really helps to calm your nerves. "And the reason for this was a relationship that my parents, more specifically my mother, didn't approve of. To be fair, no one really approved, because, well, the person... hm, I don't think there's any other way to put it, was another woman. An older woman, and also my professor. And well, the whole thing would have been a scandal anyway, but I really let myself believe that when the worst was over, we'd be fine. Bad news, we weren't." You laugh sadly. You pause, imagining that you'll get judgmental looks, but everyone listens attentively. "For a while, I thought the worst part was afterward. When everyone knew and judged me, and how my mother freaked out, and I tried... but no. The worst part was not realizing what that love if I can call it that, was doing to me. How ill it was making me. And until I got here, learned things about myself, and managed to take a break from everything that was left behind... For a while, I really hoped to go back and fix everything, but now... damn, sometimes I don't even think about leaving this place."

The group celebrates quietly, exchanging words of encouragement. Your ears feel warm, and Wanda stands up again. "You can stay as long as you need, darling." She says, massaging your forearm. She calls someone else to speak, but doesn't miss the opportunity to whisper in your ear: "I'm proud, stay a little longer today, I want to talk to you."

And you think you haven't absorbed anything for the rest of the morning.

Eventually, the session ends, and as soon as the room is empty, Wanda turns her face towards you.

"You were brave today, sweetheart."

Your hands, busy putting the cushions away, tremble a little. But you offer her an incredulous chuckle.

"Yeah, right." It's your answer, which makes Wanda frown in curiosity. At her inquisitive silence, you sigh before clarifying: "Everyone's nice, but I know it's kind of silly that my big trauma is a break-up and not post-traumatic stress from war or something that actually matters."

Wanda presses her lips together, studying you for a moment, and you take the opportunity to put away the last of the cushions. Suddenly, she says:

"This lack of respect for your own feelings comes from parental negligence, I suppose." You turn your face away in surprise, but Wanda gives you a small smile: "James wasn't lying when he said that no pain should compete with another. We all have our internal and external battles, and we shouldn't belittle our pain. I believe we should honor it, and wear it. And here, dear, you will learn to do that." Wanda makes her way around to one of the cupboards at the back, and you watch her movements in silence, from reaching into one of the last drawers to returning to you with an item in hand. "I have an invitation for you."

She opens the box she's brought, and inside is a necklace very similar to the one the instructors wear. The main difference is the symbol, the crown that Wanda also carries on the pendant around her neck. You frown in confusion.

"What is it?"

She wraps the item between her fingers, her gaze on you. "The disciple's necklace. The last one from the current solstice."

You imitate the gesture, touching the item with the tips of your fingers. Wanda doesn't move her hand away as your fingers brush together, and you ignore your own shyness as you watch her bite her lip for a moment. "I don't understand what it means."

She licks her lips, and the movement doesn't go unnoticed by your eyes. "It means that you would be my apprentice. You would accompany me during periods of meditation, you would study my teachings closely, you would be... entirely dedicated to..."

"You?" you add, and Wanda lets out a shuddering breath, warm against your cheek. When did she get so close?

"If you wish." She whispers, and you pull away gently, your face hot but the last thread of sanity in your mind.

"I'm sure there are more experienced members dying for this position. It wouldn't be right-"

Wanda shakes her head, interrupting you. "They weren't chosen. You were." She assures you, pressing the box with the necklace against your chest. "And if it wasn't you, the place would be empty until the next solstice. You don't have to accept it, darling. It's not a summons. It's an invitation."

You sigh, holding the box against your chest. "I just... I've never done anything like this. I don't want to mess things up."

There's a bell in the distance, signaling the start of the next activities. Wanda glances outside briefly before stepping close enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth that makes your whole body heat up at once.

"Just listen to your instincts." She whispers, before pulling away with a small smile.

You write to Agatha about it the following evening, but you don't have the courage to seal the letter for sending. The whole conversation with Wanda seems too private to be shared in this way.

Although the woman said it was just an invitation, you could feel some pressure to make a decision, and it seems that the news had been circulating ever since one of the tutors couldn't find the box of the last chaos disciple pendant, and Wanda ended up mentioning that she had extended another invitation.

In a way, you were stalling. Between your activities and meetings, you hadn't made any decisions and you hoped that the end of the summer would force Wanda to choose someone else. But there was also the question of the new, burning feelings that had appeared since you first laid eyes on her, and which seemed to awaken every time you two were in the same environment.

The idea of departing, of leaving her behind like a closed chapter in your life, seemed absurd every passing day.

In your second month with the Chaos Children, you received a rather unusual request: take the prophet her morning drink.

The crumpled piece of paper was handed to you by one of your cabin mates: Kate Bishop. A former student, a little younger than you, who, after destroying a bell at the university, was sent here by her millionaire mother. Kate was to stay until she had balanced her irresponsible impulses and could take over the family's security empire.

She seemed a little reluctant to interrupt your concentration on cleaning the garden, but much more determined not to disappoint Wanda.

"Just give it to the kitchen staff, they'll know what to do. And prioritize, she doesn't like to wait." Said the girl, but you gave her hand a gentle tug before taking the paper.

"But why did she ask me?" you asked, but Kate had no idea and just shrugged before leaving the garden.

While the kitchen staff prepared the item, you tried to improve your appearance in the bathroom next to the lounge, wiping all the soil from the plants from under your fingers, and even what had run into your cheeks.

When you came out, there was another order on the counter and a small group of people who hadn't been there before. They didn't see you. Blonsky, accompanied by two other women you didn't know, were talking to each other.

"I bet it was Carter. She hasn't stopped talking about her private piano lessons with the Prophetess for four whole weeks." Said the first, but the other laughed quietly.

" Sharoon is a simp, that's all. Wanda wouldn't choose her after the episode with Rogers last year, she knows she can't trust her." Rebutted the other. "Besides, I would have assumed it was Bishop, after all, she already acts like a maid. Why train another when you already have one so dedicated?" The women laugh amongst themselves until they finally notice you approaching, and fall silent. Blonsky smiles, but he appears very vicious.

"Hello, miss. Wouldn't you like to have a say in who our next disciple is?" He asks you, but you shrug, moving forward in the queue in front of the canteen to grab the prophet's items that were clearly being prepared in priority.

"I don't know anything about it." That's your answer, but the shorter woman gets in your way.

"Come on, dear, it's easy." She begins with a giggle. "Every solstice, the prophetess chooses her disciples. There are 24 of them, 12 of whom will become apostles after their apprenticeship."

You grimace softly. "It's very biblical."

Blonsky chuckles. "Of course, it is, despite the multiculturalism of our group, Wanda was raised in a Jewish Christian home. You're not going to tell me you didn't know that?"

You clear your throat. "Not really. Sorry, I have to run."

But the man puts a hand in your way, only to stretch his body out on the counter and reach for some colored leaves that he crushes and drops into Wanda's glass.

"She likes it this way. I would know, I prepared many when I was her houseboy for the first few weeks here." He says, and you swallow dry, mumbling an awkward thank you before hurrying off.

The path is a little tiring, you think it makes sense of Wanda's physique if she had to climb that trail every day, and you mentally curse yourself for thinking about her body. It's not at all appropriate, honestly.

The door is open, but you knock anyway. The woman inside, wearing her typical long, loose dresses at the edge, is busy finishing a loose fringe in her hair and offers you a smile.

"Come in, dear."

You do so a little awkwardly, almost overwhelmed by the moment of entering the most private place in the whole camp. It's a beautiful cabin, you let her know, without stopping to admire the perfectly arranged surroundings. You would have thought that the privacy of this place would allow her to make some kind of personal mess, but everything is impeccably in place.

Wanda approaches to pick up the items, and the smile falters on her face at the first sip of her drink.

"Did you put... did you put maca root in this?" She asks, and your natural reaction is a short laugh.

"I didn't prepare it, Wanda."

But she doesn't smile again, her tone of voice remains the same but her attitude changes to one of false kindness. "My morning drink is an ashwagandha. I need my concentration to increase, not my libido." It really sounded like a scolding, and her attitude of handing the cup back to you, accompanied by the memory of the recent events, made your blood boil.

"Well, I'm not your fucking maid, so if it's not good, get another one downstairs, or even better, make it one yourself."

It's the first time you see any kind of fury in her gaze, hot and vibrant, and it makes something in you rouse. Your mention of leaving the cabin is prevented by her hands closing the door and trapping you against the wood.

Wanda takes a deep breath, and the gleam in her eyes changes. "Can I ask... where did this attitude come from?"

You hold the glass tightly against your body, very aware that you'll drop it if Wanda doesn't step away and let you breathe. "I just want to make things clear." You retort with a seriousness that doesn't do justice to the way your heart is racing. "I didn't come to this place to be your personal servant."

Wanda chuckles briefly, letting her gaze drop to your mouth. "Oh, of course not, darling." She whispers. "You're not the type to follow orders willingly. You'd do a terrible job."

Swallowing dryly, you retort: "And why am I here then?"

Wanda smiles innocently. "I asked you to bring my drink." It's her reply, clearly trying to tease you, and you snort impatiently.

"I bet you expected an answer. Well, I haven't made up my mind yet, so if there's nothing else, I'll just go."

Wanda moves to take the glass from you and put it on the table by the door. The next second, her hands are in yours.

"Don't be silly, of course, there's another reason." She retorts, pulling you along as she walks backward into the cabin. "I hear you love painting."

What you had assumed was her personal painting canvas is offered to you. The laugh that escapes you is shy and genuine.

"Wanda, I don't... paint anymore."

But she doesn't flinch, her hands still in yours. "I know you haven't since last semester. It was in the letter. But you've progressed so much, that I thought you could paint for me." When you don't answer, she makes such an adorable expression that your heart skips a beat. "Please?"

Wanda definitely knows how beautiful she is, and how those puppy-dog eyes can take her anywhere. You bite back a smile, agreeing, and almost forget to breathe when she jumps excitedly onto your neck, hugging it for a whole moment before letting go as if she hadn't turned you into a complete mess with one touch.

She doesn't complain about the cocktail again - instead, she drinks it entirely while you get comfortable on the painting stool, doodling for a few moments before starting to paint the only thing you could after so many months without touching a paintbrush.

It's only when the drawing is clearer on the frame that Wanda becomes restless again. Loud sighs take your attention away from the painting and towards her.

"Is something wrong?"

She smiles half-heartedly, and only now do you notice the soft color of her cheeks. "I shouldn't have ignored my own complaints and drunk that juice."

You frown in confusion, letting the brush rest next to the paints. "Was it that bad? If you want, I'll complain to the kitchen-"

Wanda chuckles, shaking her head and you have to shut up because she reaches over to push the canvas out of the way and stops right in front of you, close enough to touch.

"Remember what I said? About focus and about... my libido." She asks, and you can swallow dryly, looking up in the direction of her dilated eyes. She lets her hands rest on your shoulders, pressing the weight of her body gently into yours. "Well, I suppose you'll have to see for yourself. Hold out your hand sweetheart, no, no, down... yes, you can move my dress out of the way." Your trembling fingers brushed against her knee, and immediately obeyed the order. Slowly making your way under her dress, while Wanda bit her lip and watched you draw patterns on her thighs. Finally, your fingers reached the side of her underwear. Instead of pulling it down, you let the inks drop to the ground, and your other hand went under her dress too, repeating the same path as before while you and Wanda panted together. Your face fell forward, flush into her dress, and you pressed your nose against her, inhaling deeply the scent of arousal she exhaled so strongly.

Her hands squeezed your shoulders as yours began to pull down her panties right away. A moment later, gracefully as everything so far, she kicked the item aside and spread her legs gently so that you could slide your fingers between more easily.

You looked up the second your index finger met her warmth, gasping at the mischievous smile of the woman in front of you.

"All this time I've been here..." You started hoarsely, your fingers spreading the wetness between her folds, and enjoying the way Wanda's breath caught in her throat. "Were you this wet?"

Despite the failure of her own breathing, and the way it's harder to stand up with your intimate stimulation, Wanda gives you a mischievous look and leans her forehead against yours, her red hair making a curtain between your faces.

"I get like this every time I'm around you." She confesses, giving you a provocative tug on your lower lip that forces you to thrust inside her with more determination. Almost enough for her to lose her pose. Almost. "It's disconcerting, to be honest."

Your thumb presses down firmly on her clit, and Wanda almost buckles into you, the delicious sound that escapes her throat will be in your dreams for sure. "Well, should I apologize, high sanctity?"

She chuckles at the teasing hidden in the nickname, before leaning in completely and capturing your mouth in a fervent kiss that takes you out of orbit for a whole moment, intense enough for you to whimper into her tongue, and force her hips down into yours, practically begging her to grind your lap. Wanda's response to this is a dirty giggle mixed with a moan into your mouth.

Without breaking the kiss that turns into a much hungrier one the next second, you get to your feet, adjusting your hands to grab her thighs to pull her onto your lap and carry her around the room. Between stumbles, you press each other against the various surfaces of the room, tables, and cupboards, exchanging increasingly hot and desperate kisses, and you're pretty sure you're going to have Wanda against the bookshelf if she keeps grinding into your abdomen like that.

In a pause for breath, when she's still wedged between you and the bookcase, your mouth descends on her jaw and Wanda struggles to keep her eyes open. She whimpers shamelessly as your curious hands advance down her body, pulling her dress out of the way and leaving it barely hanging off her body for you to clasp your palms over her now-bare breasts.

Her patience for release is quickly exhausted by the precise stimulation of her breasts, your eager fingers teasing and pinching her nipples until you turn her into a whimpering mess. She gives a determined tug on the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your face back to hers in a hard, dirty kiss that makes you shudder. She breaks it only to give an order:

"On your knees." And you groan in obedience, falling to the floor almost at once, desperately pulling her dress aside to force your face into her, now with nothing in the way. Wanda arches her back once your hot mouth finds her drenched cunt; her hands desperate for some kind of support on the shelves behind her, while her chest heaves and her hips are restless against your face.

Your hungry mouth leisurely devours her, your tongue teasing her folds, spreading her wetness around and making a mess on your face. Your closed eyes show your dedication and surrender to the task, but Wanda tugs at your hair again, trying to gain a little control back and order you to quit the teasing and fuck her the way she needs you to. Fully dilated Irises then confronts her from between her legs, and Wanda loses her breath.

"Beautiful." She panted, staring back, shamelessly grinding herself into your face. "So beautiful... fuck... on your knees for me... oh, God, detka." She struggles to compliment you, but her native language begins to escape mixed with English shortly afterward, her climax approaching. You moan contentedly at the scene, aware of the state of your own underwear from all this play. Wanda's body begins to betray her, trying to pull away so you grab her thighs with a strong grip, and one of her legs ends up over your shoulder, increasing your reach just the way she needs it to fall over the edge.

Wanda comes on your tongue, spasming against the books, and in a deep moan. You don't let her pull away, keeping her restless hips in place as you lick your way through her previous climax in search of a new one. Soon her whimpering protests at the overstimulation turn into begging, and you fail to hide the smug smile at feeling her so at your mercy for a second time.

She's so close, so close, that the Sokovian comes back to her tongue, but there's a sudden knock on the door, and all the stimulation is interrupted by your fright. Wanda gasps incredulously, losing the time to react in time due to her own lust, and having to watch you stumble away - quickly wiping her cum from your chin with the back of your hand - as she tries not to fall down on her shaking knees.

"Why the fuck did you stop?" she asks in frustration through her teeth, but you, with a very flushed face, look at her with a certain desperation.

"Wanda, there's someone at the door!" You retort as if it were a very justifiable reason to steal an orgasm from her. Wanda huffs angrily, lunging at you and ignoring your confused eyes to pull you upright by the collar of your shirt, hurriedly throwing you onto the mattress. "W-wanda, what?"

"Quiet." She cuts in, pushing your shoulders until you're lying down and following the movement of your body to straddle your lap. The person outside knocks again, and although she's pulling her off, and is still shaking from her last orgasm, Wanda manages to speak in the same tone of voice as she does every morning meeting: "What is it?"

Your protests are muffled when Wanda sits on your face, and in fact, you would have forgotten any guests if Blonsky's voice hadn't sounded in the next second.

"Good morning, Reverend, I've come to join you for today's service." Says the man, but Wanda has to bite her lip hard because you're eating her out again, somehow even better than before. "Reverend?"

Wanda shakes her head, frowning at the difficulty of maintaining a rational thought when she has your tongue inside her. "Hm, I'm not going today, Blonsky... Deliver the service in my place." She fails to sound so breathless and has to close her eyes when your hands grip her thighs tightly, holding her down.

Blonsky then sounds concerned: "Aren't you feeling well, Reverence?"

Your nose nuzzles into her clit and Wanda reaches for the headboard, a satisfied sigh escaping her. "I feel great." She murmurs back and has to take a deep breath so that the next sound that escapes her isn't a moan. "Just busy. Anything else, Blonsky?"

The man clears his throat, Wanda has to press a hand against her own mouth as you reach another right spot.

"Hm, yes, Reverend... As you know, the deadline for the selection of the disciple is coming to an end." He begins, luckily unable to hear the muffled sighs inside the room through the closed door. "I have expressed my concerns to Your Reverence about a premature choice of new members-"

Wanda snorts impatiently. "Are you really going to question my choices again, Blonsky?"

"N-no, reverend!" He defends himself quickly. "Never. I just worry that the... affinity, that Your Reverence has acquired for some new members, might affect your judgment about their vocations. The premature choice of a disciple could result in their departure from our community, and we know how the withdrawal of one of our own affects everyone..."

"Don't worry about it." Wanda cuts dry, and now, she's remarkably close to climaxing. She doesn't care about the roughness, she thrusts her hips frantically into your face, muffling your breathless moans. "Y/N is the best choice... she's... so-god... dedicated and-hm... talented-" Wanda's lucky you're quick to react too. She would have screamed to the ceiling, exposing all the inappropriate activities in the room if you hadn't grabbed her thighs and spun her on her back onto the mattress. She didn't have time to lose this orgasm by the brief interruption of your movements - your fingers took the place of your tongue when you hovered above her, and your free hand covered her mouth when you sank inside her again.

Wanda came harder than before, squeezing your fingers and wetting the bed. She clings to your body in a desperate grasp, shocked by the achievement over her body, and grateful for the muffling of her moans. You keep thrusting until she stops squirting on the sheets.

You only remember that Blonsky is still outside because he speaks again. "I'll take your word for it, Your Reverence. And I hope you've made a good choice." He says at last, the sound of his footsteps moving away is ignored by you and Wanda, who meet in a hot kiss in the next second.

Your fingers continue to thrust lightly inside her, even though Wanda shudders from the excessive stimulation. And despite this, she also controls the kiss, which slows down so that she can ask in between: "Tell me, love. Did I do it? A good choice."

You kiss her a little harder. "I still don't know... what I want... or what I should do, Wanda."

She brings one of her hands up to your wrist, stopping your movements. You open your eyes to look at her. Wanda smiles, but her eyes are very mischievous. "You think too hard when the answer is right here." She retorts, giving your hand a gentle tug. You follow her lead, and soon, you have your drenched fingers with her cum inside your mouth. Your hips move instinctively, pressing down on her, and Wanda giggles mischievously, her free hand trailing down your back to encourage the movement. "Don't you want that, baby? You can be all mine."

You suck your fingerprints clean, removing them from your mouth to support yourself on the mattress now that you're so wildly grinding your hips against Wanda's thigh. She doesn't let you indulge in the sensation, grabbing your cheek and stopping your hips with the other at your silence.

Your soft protest is ignored, and your voice is almost a pathetic plea when it comes out. "It's not fair... I was feeling so good."

"Oh, darling, I can make you feel even better, every day if you decide to stay with me." She retorts, her grip softening on your cheek. You look at her, but there is still hesitation in your gaze and Wanda wishes to replace this doubt with something else. She kisses you but pulls away when you go to increase the intensity, ignoring your protest and pushing you gently away by the shoulders. "No playing, until I have an answer."

Wanda flees - because she doesn't think she'll live up to her words if she is under you - and slips out of bed before you can grab her back. Your next long protest is muffled against the mattress because you press your face down.

Wanda giggles half-heartedly as she stands up, reaches for her dress, and tries to adjust her appearance a little. "Thank you for the sex, sweetheart, it was a very pleasant surprise, but I can't let Blonsky lead a communion, he's not good at it. And you have errands, so if you'll excuse me..." Your silence made Wanda, now dressed, look at the bed again. To her surprise, you were sitting on the mattress, hanging something around your neck.

Your gaze met hers as the disciple chain was secure on your skin. The mischief in your gaze made her swallow. Twirling the symbol between your fingers, you smiled as you asked: "So how does this work? Should I confess my sins so that you can forgive me?"

"God offers forgiveness, not me." Wanda whispers back, brazenly watching you start to unbutton your shirt, the necklace hanging in the valley of your breasts is doing things to her.

"Hm, since I'm going to be forgiven, maybe I can sin a little more..." Wanda moved on instinct, crawling onto the bed to meet you halfway like a magnet being drawn towards you.

Your foreheads touched, and she sighed against your lips. "I should punish you for this blasphemy." She says, to which you smile naughtily before sticking out your tongue to tease her lips, eliciting a low moan from her.

"Promise?" You challenge, and Wanda gets tired of wasting time.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #kinktober 2023 #marvel imagines

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spiderispunk · 1 year

Text

return the favor

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Fem!Reader. Mentions of Pregnancy. Reader and Bradley Have A Son. Dilf!Bradley. Oral Sex (m! receiving). Dirty Talk. Domesticity.

Summary: He’d traded flight suits and fatigues for sweatpants and a t-shirt. And despite the fact that both items of clothing tended to get covered in spit-up by the end of the day, he still managed to make them look sexy. You wanted him every time you saw him, and judging from the little smirk Bradley wore whenever he caught you staring for a beat too long, he knew it too.

A/N: Honestly, I blame @withahappyrefrain, @ouralcohol, and Bud Light for this.

Little Nicholas “Nicky” Bradshaw came into the world kicking and screaming. Though he chose to make his grand entrance at around 3:30 AM on a quiet Thursday night, he was hell-bent on letting the whole world know about it. And so, with a whirlwind of forms, bills, and the shrill cries of the darling baby boy, you and Bradley were thrust into the throes of parenthood.

You both handled it well, or as well as you could for first timers. Working as a team to tackle midnight bottles, blowouts, spit-up and the frequent sleepless nights. You’d settled into an easy rhythm over the past seven weeks. Bottles every 2-3 hours. Naps in-between. Diaper changes. A little tummy-time when Nicky would tolerate it.

Day in. Day out.

You were worried the Navy-issued twelve weeks of parental leave would make Bradley squirrely– the repetition would become tedious–but here you were more than half-way through, and you hadn’t heard him complain about a thing.

If anything, Bradley took to the role of fatherhood eagerly. Sure, he might have missed being on base, the camaraderie, the planes, but he has other things to think about now. And he wouldn’t trade all the excitement for the joy of spending time with you and his son.

Everyday was another milestone, and so far Bradley had been there to witness them all.

“Nicky blinked at me today.”

“He almost turned his head.”

“I think I heard him try to say da-da.”

“He drank his whole bottle!”

“Do you think he’s old enough to wear shoes yet?”

Deeper down inside there was the growing fear of his impending absence . It wasn’t a question of if, but when . A mission would come, the phone would ring, and the goodbyes would begin. Pictures and grainy videos would stand in for the real thing.

But he was here now, and he was determined to soak up as much as he could.

Fatherhood suited Bradley.

He’d traded flight suits and fatigues for sweatpants and a t-shirt. And despite the fact that both items of clothing tended to get covered in spit-up by the end of the day, he still managed to make them look sexy.

It would be infuriating if it didn’t turn you on so damn much. Of course, it didn’t help that he’d opted to let the stubble on his chin get scruffy now that he didn’t have to comply with on-base grooming standards.

For you, hopped up on hormones and the longing that comes with forced post-birth abstinence, it was a truly lethal combination. More than once, you’d gotten lost in your daydreams about what the coarse hair would feel like as his lips caressed your skin. Trailing down your neck, over your sensitive nipples, scratching between your thighs.

You wanted him every time you saw him, and judging from the little smirk Bradley wore whenever he caught you staring for a beat too long, he knew it too.

You try to push the horny thoughts to the furthest recesses of your mind, as you enjoy the quiet afternoon. It’s a rare occasion. Nicky’s nap is going longer than usual–probably because he kept you and Bradley up the entire night before–so you’re trying to relish the stillness.

You doze on the couch, head pillowed in Bradley’s lap while he scrolls through the endless black hole of his phone. His thumb circles mindless patterns into your upper arm and shoulder. He hums quietly under his breath.

The TV is on, David Attenborough going on and on about the ocean and all its wonderful creatures. Sleep tugs heavy on your eyelids, aided by the soothing drone of his voice, and the patch of warm sunlight that falls over you.

You’re thinking you might finally be able to catch up on lost sleep, when a wail crackles through the baby monitor. Harsh and breathy, it shatters the silence, snapping you to attention. A hunger cry.

You sit up, rubbing a hand over your face. “He’s due for a bottle.” You stretch your arms to the sky, groaning as the muscles in your back and shoulders stretch and loosen. “I’ll go warm one up.”

“Hey.” Bradley’s hand curls around your waist. “I got it.”

“You fed him last time,” you protest, turning to face him. “Stayed up with him for half the night, and changed his diaper three times in a row. S’not fair for you to do everything.”

He cups your face, rubbing his thumb over your lower lip. “I got it. He’s my kid. ‘Sides you were falling asleep.”

“Bradley–”

He cuts you off with a quick kiss. “Baby. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’ll take care of Nicky.”

“I’ll pay you back,” you promise, eyes not-so-subtly scanning over his body.

Bradley chuckles. “No payment necessary.” He kisses your forehead and then your lips once more. “Get some rest, yeah?”

You nod, and stretch back out onto the couch. Bradley pulls the crocheted throw blanket over you and, with one last smile, heads upstairs.

The door to the nursery squeals, and then you hear his voice through the baby monitor.

“Hey, Nicky,” Bradley whispers. “Look at you. Sleep okay, bubba? Yeah? You ready for lunch?”

The one-sided conversation continues as Bradley changes Nicky’s diaper. He asks about Nicky’s dream, tells him some of the facts he picked up from Our Planet, and shares his latest sports predictions.

“Your Auntie Natasha thinks the Padres have a shot this year. I told her she was crazy at first, but I might be eating my words soon.” A pause. “That means I’ll have to admit I was wrong. It’s an idiom. Your mama’s the English teacher though, she can teach you all about that later.”

You smile dopily at his words. The easygoing way he interacts with your baby. He’d been so worried at first. Scared to fail, scared Nicky wouldn’t like him. But there was no denying the simple fact that Bradley was meant to be a father. He proved that more and more everyday.

The steps creak as Bradley begins his descent. “Gotta be quiet, okay? Your mama’s sleepin’. Yeah, you tired her out last night.”

You hear him moving around in the kitchen and then the soft gurgling of the bottle warmer. Nicky whines impatiently, and Bradley distracts him with more stories. The effect of his words are two-fold, soothing both your baby and you. You blink sleepily, snuggled up on the couch all comfortable and warm. A few minutes later, aided by the hush of Bradley’s voice, you fall into sweet unconsciousness.

When you wake later, the room is wrapped in shadows. The once bright sunlight has started to dim. You swallow thickly, tasting stale breath. Your body aches from sleeping in the cramped space, limbs still heavy with sleep.

You reach for your phone sitting face down on the coffee table. The screen is bright in the dark room. You squint to make out the round numbers. 5:52 . Fuck. You’d been asleep for hours .

“Babe!” You call out. “Why’d you let me sleep this long?” No answer. “ Bradley .”

Still nothing. The house was uncharacteristically quiet. The baby monitor wasn’t picking anything up either. Your heart twinges painfully in your chest, stomach turning with the thick ice of dread.

You tap your phone screen again, looking for a message or a missed call. Any kind of clue as to where Bradley had disappeared off to. There’s a text waiting for you, must’ve missed it in your initial alarm. You scan it quickly and breathe out a sigh of relief.

Almost out of diapers. Went to the store with Nicky. Don’t freak out. Love you honey.

Panic now abated, you drop the phone back onto your chest. You should probably get up and do something, anything . There was no shortage of chores to do around the house. Laundry to fold. Dishes to wash. You were due for a pumping session too. But try as you might, and admittedly you don’t try very hard, you can’t bring yourself to disturb the peace. So you stay on the couch, drifting in and out of sleep.

You must have fallen asleep again, because sometime later you’re startled awake by the click of the front door.

“Bradley?” you mumble, rubbing the heel of your hands into your eyes.

“Hey, honey.” He kicks the door shut behind him. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah.” You stretch. “Freaked me out a little when I woke up and you guys were gone.”

Bradley kisses your forehead and flicks a lamp on. “Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to, but I didn’t wanna wake you up.”

You draw in a sharp breath when you see him. He’s looking sinful in a pair of jeans and a dark blue Henley. A backwards baseball cap rests atop his unruly hair. Your eyes flit over his body, head to toe. He prattles on about his errand, completely unaware of the fact that you’re currently undressing him with your eyes.

Somehow, at this moment, he’s the hottest he’s ever been.

“Got more diapers. They’re in the car. I wanted to bring Nicky in first and get him settled. He fell asleep on the drive back. He got a compliment from the lady at the register. Honestly I think all this attention is starting to go to his head. Can’t help that he’s so cute though, he got it from you. I also got more onesies, cuz I saw them in Target and couldn’t help it. Oh and those peanut butter cups that you like from Trader Joes, and…” He trails off, catching you staring. “What?”

“Babe,” you mumble, still in your lust-fueled trance.

“Yeah?” Bradley’s eyebrows knit together.

“C’mere.”

He sets Nicky’s carseat down gently. “You’re looking at me weird. Did I do something wrong?” He asks, moving over to you slowly.

You shake your head. “You let me take a nap, and you went to get diapers without me asking you to.”

“Uh huh. So?” He looks down at you, lips pursed. “I still don’t understand why you’re looking at me like that.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you grab the waistband of his jeans and pull him towards you.

“Whoa, baby.” Bradley stumbles forward. His hand covers your fumbling ones. “What are you doing?”

Your tongue darts out to wet your bottom lip. “What does it look like I’m doing?” You undo his belt and pop the button of his jeans.

“I mean it looks like you’re about to–” his gaze flits to where Nicky rests still fast asleep in his carseat. “Suck my dick,” his voice comes out in a hoarse whisper. “Wait, right here? Shouldn’t we move–”

There was definitely logic in his words, but it didn’t really register at the moment. The only thing on your mind was him . Emerald tinted lenses colored your world. Greed plain and simple. For the taste of him. For the weight of him on your tongue. For the sound of his throaty groans to fill the air.

“Bradley,” you whisper, lips following the trail of dark hair down his stomach to where it disappears into his elastic waistband.

Your husband swallows thickly. “Yeah, honey?”

You free his cock from his boxers. “Stop talking.”

“But, sweetheart– oh fuck .” Bradley runs a hand over his face.

“Let me return the favor.” You shush him.

“You don’t have to do–” Bradley chokes as you swipe your tongue over his hip bone. “ Shit . Okay, yeah.”

You spit into your palm and stroke him slowly. He’s halfway there, but getting harder with each languid flick of your wrist. You sink your teeth into his thigh and he groans throatily. The noise settles deep into your stomach, pulsing against your clit.

You missed this. The heady paradox of being on your knees, yet having Bradley completely at your mercy. Making him feel good. Pulling him apart piece by piece.

You mouth at the base of his cock, tongue laving at the underside of it. Bradley rests a hand at the nape of your neck. There’s no force behind the gesture, it’s more like he’s anchoring himself than pushing you further onto him.

“Fuck, baby.” His eyes are squeezed shut, jaw slack, and lips slightly parted. “ Christ. ” He rocks his hips forward into your hand.

A wordless plea. You know what he’s asking for. Your mouth slides up his shaft slowly, and you swirl your tongue around the head, still pushing, still teasing. It’s only when Bradley moans brokenly that you decide to have mercy on him.

Your lips part, and you swallow him down slowly. His head tilts forward and he lets out a breathless whisper of your name that has you squeezing your thighs together as your clit throbs.

Bradley’s a perfect picture of debauchery above you. Shoulders drooped and leaning over you slightly. His face is flushed, eyebrows screwed together. The veins on his neck and arm bulge prominently. His grip on your neck tightens, and he gently guides you forward.

You take as much as you can handle, stroking what you can’t fit into your mouth. Your jaw aches from the lack of practice. But it’s worth every bit of discomfort to hear the moans and praises he levels your way.

“Your mouth feels so goddamn good, honey,” he whispers, when his cock hits the back of your throat. “Just like that, baby. Such a good girl. You’re doing so good. Keeping going, sweetheart.”

Your hand drifts downward of its own accord, and dips into the waistband of your leggings. You rub insistent circles into your clit to relieve the ache. It’s been so long, you think you could come from this alone.

“Look at you getting off,” he says, hazel eyes blazing into your own. “Wish you could see how pretty you look with my dick in your mouth, baby,” he mumbles, lazily thrusting forward.

Bradley cups your jaw, thumb rubbing over your cheek where he can feel his cock moving. He rolls his hips forward again, biting his bottom lip as he watches your lips stretch to accommodate him.

“Pretty girl,” he coos, brushing your hair out of your face so he can see you better. “Taking me so well. Gonna make me come.”

You moan, and Bradley chuckles.

“That what you want? Want me to come down your throat?”

You blink up at him, pleading with watery eyes. You wanted it more than anything.

“Yeah? Gonna swallow every drop, like a good girl?” The thought sends a shudder down his spine. “My good girl. Won’t last long with you looking at me like that.”

That’s the plan .

You move the hand on his thigh around to gently squeeze his balls, and Bradley thrusts forward sharply.

“ Shit –sorry, baby.” His thumb brushes at the newly shed tears that track down your face. “You okay?” The fire in his eyes dies slightly as he searches your gaze for any sign of pain or reluctance to continue.

Instead the only thing he finds there is hunger and greed.

This time when you squeeze, you’re ready for his reaction. You take his next roll of his hips easily. And the next, and the next. Letting Bradley gently fuck your face. He was close, you could tell by the slur of his words, the inconsistent buck of his hips.

“Goddammit,” Bradley says through gritted teeth. His fingers snag into your hair, tugging at the nape. “Gonna fucking kill me, honey.” His chest heaves with shallow breaths. “‘M gonna come, sweetheart. You ready for me?”

Please, oh please . Your thoughts chant, words blurring into a slurry. You hope your eyes convey the desperation you feel.

Bradley’s eyes roll into the back of his head. He bites his pointer finger, trying to muffle the shameless groan he lets out as he unravels.

You take all he gives, and he gives you so much. His cum coats your throat, and you swallow as much as you can, but you have to pull away for air. The last dribbles of his cum paint your lower lip and drip down your chin. You tilt your head back and stick your tongue out to show off your empty mouth.

Bradley stares at you, eyes crossed and unfocused. He pushes his hat off and runs a hand over his face and through his hair. “Holy shit,” he mutters. “Fuck, baby.”

He swipes at your lip, smearing the cum and spit into your skin. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” You smirk.

“All innocent and shit.” Bradley pushes his ring finger into your mouth. “I’ll fuck you right here.”

You clean the digit off with your tongue and pull away with a pop . “You promise?” You arc an eyebrow up.

“Fuck.” He leans down and gives you a kiss that leaves your toes curling. “Give me five minutes to put Nicky in bed, and I’ll be right back.” He whispers.

You lean back and peel your shirt from your body. “ Tick tock .”

Bradley bites his bottom lip, eyes sliding hungrily over your body. “Don’t go anywhere.” He points a stern finger at you.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you chuckle. “Hurry up so you can fuck me.”

He grabs the carseat, and still manages to be gentle despite his obvious excitement. “Five minutes, baby, I promise.”

Bradley’s never one to break a promise.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick #tgm #miles teller #lets try this again #rion writes

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sseastar · 4 months

Text

✶ small things ; wang yixiang.

info. nicholas x reader. fluff. can be established relationship or friends to lovers. description. nico and his habits towards you in your friendship / relationship. just nico being a cutie and a menace. a cute menace. warnings. play fighting. physical touch. listen to. love 119 by riize

accidentally tickling you + the need to keep doing it.

you know that clip of nico just touching the exposed skin through fuma’s ripped jeans? and fuma getting ticklish because of it and stopping nicholas’s hands, but nico’s hand keeps gravitating back to it? i feel like nico would do this with you. initially, it’s usually just him gently grazing the skin on your arm or neck or knees with his nails or fingertips. the moment you squirm away, something in nico’s brain tells him that he needs to keep touching that same spot unless you really tell him to stop (you usually don’t). he also squeezes your leg or thigh just to make you jump. and then commences the game of you trying to catch nico’s hands before they can touch you again but still playing along because of course you will. you always have.

playful attacks when you’re teasing him.

there’s a video of nico just like, fake tickle attacking gaku during one of the &audition episodes that i just saw recently and my first thought was just nicholas going for your waist whenever you tease him for something. you tease him a lot whenever you get the chance because he, of course, does the exact same to you. so it’s no surprise to you anymore when you just kind of quickly scoot away after teasing him because you know what’s coming, and sure enough, nico’s hands just shoot quickly towards your waist after you like, talk about an embarrassing moment he had.

it used to just be something he had to decide to do (he knew whatever you were saying was a joke so that was his choice to retaliate) but at some point it just became second nature for him to start wiggling his fingers towards your sides. is it because he’s just gotten used to it? or is it because his hands know his need to hear your laugh? you may never know. nico also finds joy when he just brings his hands relatively near you and your giggles just fall out of your laugh without him even touching you.

feeding you.

with nico looking as if he would be a tsundere, the way he holds out food to the members without looking is so characteristic of that. there’s a couple of clips of him feeding harua by just holding out ice cream or tanghulu to his mouth without even looking. something about that melts my heart because it’s like he wants people not to make a big deal but he’s just too caring for me to ignore.

nico does the same thing to you. just holding his drink up to your lips if he knows you like his drink better than your own. holding up food combinations he wants you to try (like when he fed harua the seaweed) and patiently waiting for your opinion. if you can’t decide which dish you want to order, he would order both and let you pick which one you would like better. and of course, cooking you sausage wherever and whenever you want.

poking your cheek + tapping your chin.

i’ve seen nico do this a lot to euijoo and taki (especially in the scent of you behind). it seems to be his way of teasing but with affection, because he had done it after reviewing their scenes in the mv. i think it’s his way of saying you did well, i’m proud of you, and i think you’re absolutely adorable, but i’m gonna do this little cat scratch thing because i’m too shy to actually tell you (so lino-coded i love this).

nico will just randomly tap underneath your chin or poke your cheek, usually when it comes to times when you’re being complimented or getting flustered. he thinks you’re adorable with the way you suddenly can’t make eye contact and can only let out a stuttering ‘thank you’ and so he just has the sudden urge to make it worse by doing the whole underside of the chin gentle tap with his fingertip or knuckle.

making random sounds to get your attention.

i’m sure we mostly all know about nico’s “ooh sexy joo” clip, and if you don’t, you’ll probably find out soon. but something tells me that the way he hypes up euijoo and the sounds he makes along with it translates to you as well. a lot of times, when he’s bored and you’re not paying attention to him he just starts making those ‘oooooo’ sounds that he was making during their photoshoot behind. it’s kind of difficult to ignore the fake ghost sounds your best friend is making but it’s come to the point that if he isn’t making these sounds when he wants your attention, then something’s wrong and he’s probably jealous of someone grabbing your attention instead of him.

it’s not rare for you to be trying to finish an assignment at your desk with nico just sprawled out on your bed, limbs hanging off the sides of your mattress. when he senses you’re almost done, nico starts to make these sounds or just starts to hum your favorite song unconsciously, reaching over to you to play with your free arm or your hair, hoping that it’ll help speed up your progress on your work. spoiler alert: it doesn’t, but you don’t have the heart to tell him otherwise.

his tired clinginess in the morning.

just blank nico in the morning. tired baby will just go up to wherever you are, cooking, getting ready, brushing your teeth, whatever. he would just go up to you and cling close as he’s waking up, not with arms around you or anything but just standing with his chest pressed to the back of one of your shoulders as he watches what you’re doing, eyes unfocused and head slightly dipped towards you - he might not be a morning person but being around you makes it better.

sometimes you get surprised despite getting used to this habit because one moment, you’re in the kitchen pouring milk into your cereal. when your turn back from the fridge after putting the carton away, nico’s just standing silently behind you, not reacting to the little laugh you let out at your surprise like he usually would (he loves your laugh). instead, you simply take a spoon and drop it into your bowl as nicholas just brings his body close to yours and lightly presses his chest against your back. he watches you eat over your shoulder, simply opening his mouth when you bring up the spoon to it, and nuzzles his head into your neck as he chews, basking in the little pats you give to the side of his head and face.

hiding his face from or behind you.

as intimidating as our lovely boy can look, nico is just a shy baby when it comes to being teased or excessively complimented. you love how he gets when this happens and so sometimes you purposely praise him over and over again just to get him flustered. at these times, nicholas just hides his face from you so that you can only see his eyes (like in the ‘our diary - acrobatic’ video when k said it was his turn to do the last challenge and he hid his face behind the mats). the giggle that leaves your mouth only causes his heart to stir even more, and he tries his best not to giggle back as much as he feels like he needs to. he has a dark image to protect lol.

if someone else makes him shy and you’re near him, he goes immediately to take your arm and hide his face behind it with the cute high pitched nico laugh we love. more often, nico just steps behind you and plants half his face on your shoulder, again only leaving his eyes to be shown. euijoo had once said that nicholas one of the most important people in his life so casually, and the next moment, nicholas had already left your side and had his face hidden behind your shoulder. so cute.

⌕. author’s note ; did i disappear again? yes i did and i’m so sorry! i did have a lot of motivation to write over break but never had the time because of family plans, but! i am still working on current wips and starting to work on &team works! thank you for waiting!!

as always, please leave feedback and reblog with tags as it’s the most important thing when it comes to motivating writers on here! without feedback, i have less motivation to keep writing so pls pls pls do not just like and empty reblog! it gets very draining and unmotivating to see when that happens!

⌕. taglist ; @enhacolor @soobin-chois @koishua @chrysbibi

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miamochi-writes · 1 year

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Hi! I’m the one who requested the Vash x reader and Wolfwood x reader scenarios of them having nightmares. Thank you so much! You wrote it so beautifully, my heart couldn’t handle how cute and sweet it was! 💖

I wanted to request if you could do the same thing but how would Vash and Wolfwood react separately to the reader getting hurt by someone? Bonus if you write for Knives too? The way you write him is so beautiful too 😭💖

I'm so glad you liked it! <3 And I can definitely take a shot at this :) Hope you like it :)

The Guys Being Protective

Vash

The minute this man finds out you're injured, your well-being is his first priority. He needs to know that you're okay before he decides his next move. If it is a minor injury, like a bruise or no bleeding, he'll probably let out a sigh of relief or give you a quick kiss. Vash is more likely going to caress your face or hold you very close to him without hurting you. He's thankful that you're still breathing and still by his side. Yet, he will remind you to be more careful next time. Vash has already lost many important people in his life, and he's not going to lose you too.

Although, if this injury is serious, Vash's fight-or-flight is going to kick in. He is going to make sure you're out of harm's way and that you get the necessary treatment possible. If anything, he'll try to patch you up with what he has available or rush to find someone to take care of you immediately. Vash is already restless that you're hurt, but would be devastated if your condition got worse.

If you even dare try to brush off your injuries as nothing, you're going to make him feel worse. He's only okay with him doing that to others, not when you do that. He's already beating himself up that you got hurt under his watch and that he didn't prevent it. So be sure to give him lots of cuddles and kisses to reassure him before he spirals. Make sure you tell him that he's not at fault and that you stay by him no matter what he says. He's been through so much, so you comforting him and showering him with kisses should do the trick.

Afterwards, he's going to ask you who did this to you. This man will find and go after whoever hurt you. Because if Vash finds the culprit, this person needs to run for their life. Vash may be Love and Peace, but that goes out the window if anyone hurts the people he loves and cares about, especially when it comes to you. He values you way too much. If he catches the culprit, Vash will make sure they don’t hurt you again. If this person gave you minor injuries, Vash will try to warn them not to do it again. But if that fails or if this person gave you serious wounds, Vash will use his fighting skills or his gun, (no killing obviously) I’m sure of it.

Let me just remind you, this is the same man who took out a good chunk of the Badlands Boys when the people in the Sand Steamer were under attack. Don't forget, this is also the same man who threatened E.G. Mine to disarm the bombs or else he'd make sure he wouldn't get away unscathed. Have you seen Vash angry? He may be babygirl, but he will punch, fight, chokehold, and bite whoever hurts you. Period. Vash will fight for you and your safety until the end of time.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

If Wolfwood finds out you got injured there's a bunch of scenarios of what could happen. But they all to lead one thing, him beating the hell out of whoever laid a finger on you. It doesn't matter if you got a bruise, scratch, cut, wound, or mark, this man is going to be worried sick about you. Despite how cold, stoic, or teasing he is, Wolfwood has a big heart for you. He's cares way too much to brush off your injuries. Although after a minute or two, this man will be seething with rage. No one hurts you and walks away it.

Of course he's going to check up on you and see how bad the damage is. If Wolfwood finds out you're lying about the pain or hiding any other injuries, his anger is going to boil over. Not at you, but at the person who did this to you. But, he would rather you tell him honestly. Wolfwood has the biggest soft spot for you and would hate it if you lied about being fine. This man has already lost Livio, and he refuses to lose you too.

This man is invincible, but you're not. He knows you only have one life and he's going to make sure you live it to the fullest with him. Once Wolfwood is done looking you over, he's hunting down the person who did this to you. He's going to give you the: "I just want to talk to the person is all." Which means, "I'm going to beat the living shit out of this person."

No one messes with The Punisher and his loved ones. Just remember that this man carries the heaviest and deadliest cross weapon in No Man's Land. So imagine the beating this person gets once Wolfwood finds them. It doesn't matter how much they run, Wolfwood will find them and make sure they know what happens if they hurt you or anyone else again. Let's face it, Wolfwood is not going to let this person live unless you or Vash stop or convince him.

Once Wolfwood settles things with the person who hurt you, you're not leaving his sight. He's going to be taking care of you to the best of his abilities and making sure you get plenty of rest. This man will need lots of reassurance from you that you're doing okay so he'll be sticking by you a lot more. Probably going to cling onto you with hugs and kisses and giving you his lollipops. Call him Nicholas from time to time in private and this man will be putty in your hands.

Knives Million

Knives is someone who rarely wears his heart on his sleeve. But if it involves you, he'll only show his feelings in private with you. So imagine what is going on with Knives internally when he finds out someone hurt you. That stoic face? Gone. Composure? Shaken up. His blades? Ready to cut someone up with no hesitation.

If you're a human, Knives knows that humans are delicate and don't live long compared to him. If he sees a cut or a minor scratch, he'll tell you to be mindful of your actions. He knows those kinds of wounds will recover in no time. However, if he even sees a bruise, any deep cuts, or bleeding, Knives is not going to let that pass.

If you're a plant and Knives finds out someone hurt you as mentioned above, there's no stopping him from seeking revenge. Knives will send Con'rad to tend to your wounds. If Con'rad doesn't do a good job of patching you up, the plant will have a long and menacing talk with him alone. If you can bring joy, solace, or even fill the lonely void Knives has within him, of course he's going to hold you in high regard. You are beyond special to him and will make sure no one lays a finger on you. Or rather, make sure no one takes you away from him.

Knives will demand you tell him who did this to you. If it was someone from outside his humble abode or lower ranking men that hurt you, he's going to off them immediately. Plus he never liked most humans, so less people for him to worry about. However, if he finds out it was one of the more important men like Legato, Con'rad, or any other high ranking follower...good luck. He's probably going to make their punishment slow and painful. Knives will reiterate what happens if they dare even hurt you and that they should consider themselves lucky that he's keeping them alive. He’ll probably make an example of someone if he catches them hurting you again.

Once he's done taking care of things, Knives will go check up on you to see how you're doing. He will take time out of his schedule, more importantly his alone time, to see you. Knives needs to know that you're doing okay and healing from your injuries. If you visit him while he's playing piano, he'll beckon you to sit with him and play you a song. If you try to play along with him, you're going to brighten this man's day.

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malice-ov-mercy · 2 months

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Welcome Home

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x fem!Reader

Content warnings: 18+!, oral (female receiving), fingering, edging, unprotected (p in v) sex

A/N: Writing something for Nicholas that isn’t angst or heart break??? What is this???? Anyways, consider this a thank you for following and enjoying my stupid little stories <3! It means a lot, more than I think any of you would know.

Word count: 1.6k

Tag list: @circle-with-me @xxrainstorm @foliosriot @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @concretenoah @witchyweeb34 @an-insane-day @lyschko666 @calisto-thoughts @agravemisstake @shroomfairy24 @cncohshit @dominuslunae @th4t-em0-k1d

If you would like to be added, please let me know for who! If you tell me everyone/everything, just know that includes anything I may write for Bad Omens AND/OR Lorna Shore!

Ruffilo Masterlist

Back against the wall, hand tangled in his thick raven colored hair, arousal coating your inner thighs. All Nicholas had done was kiss you with the passion of a man starved, like he hadn’t had a meal in centuries. You supposed he was starved in a way. It’d been a long, lonely month for you both. Sexts and video calls only temporarily extinguished the fire burning you alive.

His lips ghosted across your thighs, peppering the soft skin in delicate, featherlight kisses. You arched into his touch and he pressed your hips back, holding them firmly against the wall.

“Be good and stay still,” Nicholas rasped, his hot breath warming your already fiery skin more. “Let me take care of you.”

His mesmerizing seafoam eyes locked on yours as he dipped his tongue between your folds. Your head lulled against the wall, a breathless moan escaping your lungs. Nicholas dug his fingers into your hips then slid one of his hands down your thigh, kneading it tenderly while he coaxed your legs further apart. He groaned softly and shifted closer, burying his tongue and nose in your cunt.

You stayed as still as you could and let him work, happily enjoying the pleasure consuming you. Gently, you scratched his scalp. The quiet moan he made rippled through you. Nicholas hiked your leg over his shoulder. He latched his mouth to your clit, then plunged his middle finger deep inside you. Each slow pump drew airy gasps from you.

“You’re not being loud enough, love,” he curled his finger, firmly pressing your spot.

Nicholas kept applying different pressures until he finally got what he wanted: a choked, high pitched moan. He smiled proudly.

“There she is.” He praised, placing a soft kiss on your hip. “I missed that sound so much.”

He inserted his ring finger and curled them both, giving him another delighted sound. You wiggled your hips, no longer able to hold still. Nicholas lined the crease of your thigh in sharp, stinging bites, silently scolding you for disobeying. It only made you writhe more.

Tension built in your gut and your legs started to tremble. Nicholas could tell you were close by the way your pussy clenched his fingers. He closed his mouth back over your clit. The flick of his tongue paired with his meticulous fingers pulled you closer to the edge.

“Nick,” his name fell from your lips in a hushed whisper.

As you were about to reach your peak, Nicholas stopped his movements, leaving you whimpering and to chase your high alone. He pushed your hips against the wall once more and littered your abdomen with kisses. His mouth was coated with your slick and spit. You squirmed under his lips, desperately seeking his touch.

He huffed a light chuckle. “Don’t worry, my darling. I’ll give you what you need.”

Slowly, he licked a trail of wet kisses up your stomach, the saliva left behind cooling your still burning skin. He took one of your breasts in his mouth and gently squeezed the other. His teeth grazed your nipple while he pinched the other. Every nerve in your body buzzed. You clutched his waist and threaded fingers through his hair.

Nicholas nibbled ferociously up your neck, suddenly not able to get enough of your flesh between his teeth and lips. You tugged his hair. He groaned into your neck. His hand slid down your stomach and between your bodies, stopping at your clit. He rubbed teasing, lazy circles.

It was agonizing having him toy with you. A whole month without his soft lips and calloused hands on every inch of your skin. Thirty days of craving his large cock buried deep. You could feel how hard he was. He had to be aching.

“Nick, please.” You begged.

He palmed your pussy, teasing you more before slipping his fingers back inside.

“Not yet. I want you even wetter.”

You weren’t sure how much wetter you could get. You could certainly feel your slick coating your thighs and hear the obscene sound of his slow pumps. Your protest caught in your throat when Nicholas brushed his fingers over your spot again. The ball of his palm gently rubbed against your clit as he continued to caress the spongy and you all but screamed, nearly coming undone right then.

Nicholas swore under his breath. He gave you a moment to catch your breath, then repeated his actions. Your mind went blank. You couldn’t form a coherent thought if you tried. Your jaw slacked as you felt another orgasm building. You chased helplessly after the high, hoping to reach it before Nicholas denied you again—but he moved quicker, pulling away from you just before you toppled over the ledge.

Frustrated and desperate, you yanked him into a passionate kiss. It caught him off guard, but he smiled into the kiss. Your arousal lingered on his lips. His tongue slipped between your teeth and melded with yours. He grabbed his dick and ran his tip along your slit. You pushed your hips down, eager to finally get him inside.

Nicholas broke the kiss and cupped your cheek. His pupils were blown so wide, you could hardly see the enchanting color of his irises. He lined his tip with your entrance then softly captured your lips as he slowly eased his cock all the way inside your drenched pussy. You both sighed at the sensation, feeling whole and closer than ever.

“I missed you,” Nicholas whispered, lips ghosting over yours.

His thrusts were languid, almost lazy, but so fulfilling and deep. He wanted to feel every millimeter of you. He pressed your foreheads together and you carded your fingers through his hair. Love poured from his eyes, washing over you in waves. Warm breath fanned over your mouth as Nicholas pecked your lips over and over.

He reached for your thigh, and hiked your leg up, helping you hook it around his lower back. His cock sunk deeper. A low moan rumbled in your chest. You almost forgot how full he made you feel. Nicholas’ free hand rubbed gentle circles to your clit.

You arched off the wall but were quickly pushed back by Nicholas’ harsh thrust.

“You’re not being very cooperative tonight, love,” he nipped your chin. “Behave or I’ll leave you here unsatisfied and dripping.”

The words were a thinly veiled threat. You knew he had no intention of keeping that promise. Nicholas needed this just as badly as you. His strong grip on your thigh and his heavy breathing told you that.

Nicholas buried his face in your neck, covering what skin he could in delicate kisses and quickened his pace. He was struggling to keep himself under control. Slow and tender wasn’t doing much for either of you other than prolonging the releases you both craved.

“You can let go, Nick.” You breathed. “Let go for me, please.”

Your back inched up the wall as he thrust harder into you, pussy clenching him tightly. A string of breathless moans fluttered past your lips. His nails dug into your thigh and the fingers at your clit worked faster. He shifted slightly, and the tip of his cock hit your sweet spot. You wailed loudly, trying to press him closer. He was already so deep inside you, giving you every last inch of his cock, but still you wanted more.

Nicholas throbbed with every mindless, erotic sound you made. He was getting close. Soft grunts tumbled from his mouth, adding fuel to the fire of your own burning climax. His lips brushed along your shoulder to your neck, breath hot against your skin.

“Lovey, look at me,” he rasped in your ear, “let me see you fall apart.”

He brought his face to yours, forcing you to look at him. Your half lidded and dazed eyes stared back at him. Nicholas smiled kindly then captured your lips in a gentle, passion filled kiss.

“You’re so pretty, lovey.”

The soft name and his own blissed out, love drunk expression stoked the fire in your loins, coaxing the flames to spread through your veins and engulf you. Your breathing deepened and faltered. Pleasure contorted your face as you struggled to keep your gaze fixed on Nicholas. The heat between your bodies burned you alive and was too much to bear.

Your hands fell from his hair and clutched at his back, raking your nails across his sweat slicked skin, overcome with intense elation. He hissed lowly. An obscene, primal shout burst from your throat, sending a shockwave through your body as erotic euphoria blazed its path and released the pressure that had been bubbling for what felt like hours. It felt like air had been knocked out of you.

Desperately, you clung to Nicholas, thankful for his stability and the wall behind you. You couldn’t stop your spasming if you tried. Nicholas murmured sweet praises and gratitudes, but you couldn’t decipher his words. You were solely focused on the slick, wet sound and feel of him fucking your cunt. When he removed his hand from your over sensitive clit, you sighed in relief.

With a final, powerful thrust, Nicholas’ resolve broke. He gripped your hip and leg harshly, digging his nails so deep in your skin, you’re sure there would be scratch marks. His whimpering was quiet as he spilled his seed deep, making sure you milked him for all he was worth. You could feel his legs shaking from the force of his own orgasm.

Sufficiently drained and spent, he gently placed your leg back on the ground. You grimaced at the movement. Nicholas rubbed soothing circles on your hip joint. He cupped your face with his free hand and pressed your foreheads together. You licked his bottom into a slow, heartfelt and satisfied kiss, your arousal still subtly lingering on his breath.

“Welcome home, lovey.” you whispered.

He chuckled lightly.

“Thank you.”

#nicholas ruffilo x reader #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #nicholas ruffilo fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic

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limedane21 · 1 year

Text

Loose Shirts and Fumbled Secrets [Vash x Reader] [Soulmate AU]

Word Count: ~4000 Description: After a deadly mistake, you and Vash’s relationship becomes tense which makes it even harder to deal with the fact his name is written on your back.

Your pace increased as it took longer and longer to find Vash. Of course, when you took your eyes off him for a second he disappeared, probably getting in trouble again.

You just joined the group a week ago after finally tracking down the humanoid typhoon. Only a few months before then your soulmark appeared on the small of your back. Vash. A single name. You didn’t think Independents could have soulmates. Thankfully, Vash wasn’t hard to find with his wanted posters and wake of destruction everywhere he went. Which made you cautious when you went looking. And why you still haven’t told him your real name.

You saw red out the corner of your eye and stopped, looking down the alleyway. Meryl and Roberto were the furthest down against the back wall. In front was Vash and a bounty hunter, whose back was turned to you. Vash had his hands up, smiling nervously.

“I don’t want to fight,” He said.

“Then you should come along quiet-like,” the bounty hunter replied.

“No, thank you,” Vash declined.

You saw Roberto pull out his gun. The bounty hunter noticed and grabbed Vash, spinning him into a chokehold. Fear crawled down your back when you saw the bounty hunter put a knife to Vash’s throat.

Bang!

It took a second for you to realize what happened. Smoke slowly drifted up from your gun as the bounty hunter fell to the ground. Everyone was staring at you. You ignored them, just trying to breathe.

You didn’t even think for a second. You knew Vash could get out of situations like that. Probably done it several times before, But actually witnessing it was different. You couldn’t stand to see your soulbound get hurt. Not even a scratch.

Once you’ve fully understood what occurred, you felt a wave of nausea wash over you. You covered your mouth with your hand to keep yourself from vomiting.

“Well, now this is an interesting sight,” Nicholas said, having finally found the group.

You removed your hand from your face and slowly turned to him, gun shaking. Roberto came up to your side and put a hand on your shoulder. He gave you a look of sympathy and slowly pushed your gun down. Something clicked and you immediately put it away.

“We better hurry before people come,” Vash said, looking both ways out the alleyway.

“Agreed, let’s get out of here,” Meryl responded, following after Vash and Nicholas.

The crew quickly and quietly returned to the truck and rode off into the desert. It was already evening so Meryl started looking for a place to camp out for the night; far enough away so the town’s people don’t track them.

She found an abandoned house, only its metal skeleton remained. She parked next to it and everyone exited the vehicle. Vash got a fire started, while Meryl got the sleeping packs out. Roberto and Nicholas didn’t really do anything but watched the others and chatted. You, on the other hand, grabbed a rag and climbed on the flat roof of the building.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” Vash came up behind you sometime later as you were cleaning your pistol.

“I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. You could have been injured,” You reasoned, holstering the gun, “Or worse.”

“I don’t mind getting a little hurt. He still didn’t have to die,” Vash sat next to you.

You didn’t want to see his face, you knew he wasn’t happy with you, “I understand your morals. I didn’t enjoy taking his life, but I rather my friends be safe. And if that makes me selfish then so be it.”

“I would have gotten out of there. I just needed a few more minutes,” Vash said.

You glanced at Vash. you were unnerved that his usual cheery demeanor was gone.

“You didn’t have to get involved,” Vash continued.

You looked down. You know you could have done better. You know you could have just done nothing or shot the man’s arm or leg. Something. Anything other than what you have done.

But you were scared. You panicked when you saw that bounty hunter holding a knife to his neck. You didn’t hesitate. Couldn’t. The thought of Vash leaving you before you had the chance to tell him you’re his soulmate crushed you.

You hugged your legs and willed your unfallen tears away. You didn’t want to make Vash feel bad for making you cry. He was still watching, waiting for a reply.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “I have my reasons.”

Vash softly sighed. You have never seen him this upset. You hoped this wasn’t permanent and that he’d go back to his happy, seemingly carefree attitude. But you knew you couldn’t lie to make him feel better. That wouldn’t be right.

You looked up as Vash got up. He smiled down at you, “Goodnight, Crux.”

“Goodnight,” you replied, “Vash.”

“‘I have my reasons?” Meryl walked up behind you, “That may be good enough for Vash but it isn’t for me.”

You didn’t turn around to face Meryl; did Vash tell her about their conversation or did she overhear, “that’s none of your business,” you quipped.

“It’s obvious he had it under control. He always gets out of things like that,” Meryl said.

“I know, I panicked, alright?” You really didn’t want another moral lecture.

You leaned down to pick up a rock from the sand.

“What’s that?” Meryl asked.

You realized your shirt rode up too high. You instantly straightened and went to pull it back down but Meryl already grabbed it and raised it up further to see.

“Is that your soulmark? Is Vash your soulmate?” Questions you didn’t want to hear came from the reporter.

Pushing your shirt back down and turning around, you clamped a hand over her mouth, “Hush! The guys are going to hear you!”

You took a step back, taking a peek at the truck behind Meryl. Roberto and Vash were engaged in conversation while Nicholas was looking over. You doubt he could hear you and Meryl but didn’t like the attention. It could bring trouble.

You turned back to Meryl and waited a second before lowering your hand; Meryl immediately started questioning you again, “You haven’t told Vash? Shouldn’t he know since your name is Crux?”

You didn’t answer any of her questions, not like she was giving you a chance to anyway.

“Your real name isn’t Crux then,” Meryl figured then clapped her hands together, “You should tell Vash.”

Your ‘No’ came out louder than intended. Everyone looked over. "Everything alright over there?" Vash yelled, a friendly smile still ever-present on his face.

"Yes, everything is fine, sorry!" You frantically replied back before going back to Meryl.

You grabbed her forearms and pleaded, “Don’t tell Vash okay? Please, I’ll tell him eventually.”

“Okay, fine!” Meryl said, “but you better tell him.”

A week passed before you knew it and you still haven’t told Vash, much to Meryl’s annoyance. Vash had gotten into some more scuffles and you did your best to make sure you didn’t kill again. There were some times you didn’t think Vash was going to get out but you were able to get him out, either by being more threatening to the aggressor or shooting them in the arm or leg.

However, Vash was still upset about the original bounty hunter situation as much as he tried to hide it. Which only made you feel worse about it and lessened your odds of telling him you were his soulmate.

The crew was hunkered down around a campfire for the night. On your left was Roberto and Meryl, to your right sat Nicholas with his trusty cross, and lastly Vash sat across from you. Which you noticed happened to be the furthest away from you. It's been awkward silence for the last few days so you quickly finished your meal and went to sleep in your makeshift bedroll.

You felt yourself slowly start to fall asleep to the noise of the crackling fire and soft wind before you were brought back when you heard whispering.

“C’mon, you can’t be mad at them forever,” you heard Nicholas say, “You gotta give them a break.”

“Yeah, can’t you tell they feel really bad about it?” Meryl added.

“Where’s this coming from, guys?” Vash asked, trying to deflect with some nervous laughter.

“We all heard that argument a week ago. Did you seriously not see how freaked out they were when they killed the guy,” Nicholas said, not sugarcoating anything.

“Yeah, and they’re doing better now! No one has been killed since,” Meryl said.

“What they are trying to say is that they are over your little tantrum and you should get over it,” Roberto cut to the chase.

Vash didn’t reply immediately. You could imagine him looking down and thinking. You’ve been trying to keep your breathing normal so they didn’t know you were eavesdropping but you waited with bated breath for Vash’s answer.

“I guess you’re right,” Vash admitted, “I’ve been a bit hard on Crux, haven’t I?”

“Duh,” Nicholas replied, “It’s not their fault they want to protect your scrawny ass. Someone needs to do it.”

Vash lightly laughed, “I’ll apologize tomorrow.”

“How about now? You can stop pretending, Crux,”

You flinched as Nicholas called you out and sat up before turning to everyone. Meryl and Nicholas were crowded around Vash on both sides. All eyes were on you. Nicholas and Roberto were obviously in the know about your eavesdropping while Meryl and Vash had shocked expressions on their faces.

“Morning,” you deadpanned, trying to lighten the tension.

Vash just scratched the back of his head, a nervous tick, and got up, walking over to you. You got up as well and followed Vash out into the desert.

Once Vash walked to what he deemed appropriate, he turned to you. Even knowing he was going to apologize didn’t make this conversation any less nerve-wracking for you. You were very aware that you were avoiding eye contact. You’ve been trying to keep a low profile with Vash for so long it was hard being seen.

“Crux,” he said softly, coxing you to look at him.

You exhaled and finally made eye contact with him. It felt like he could see right through you. He stepped forward and lightly grabbed your arm, giving you the opportunity to move it away. When you didn’t, he held your hand

“I’m sorry, I haven’t been fair to you,” he squeezed your hand, “I see you haven’t killed since so I’m, again, sorry.”

“Thank you, Vash,” you said, looking down at your hand in Vash’s, “I’m sorry as well. For everything.”

Vash pulled you into a hug. You selfishly breathed into his shirt, wrapping your arms around him.

“We’re fine now,” Vash said cheerily, still holding you.

A few days passed and you were snoozing in the back of the truck. The sound of someone slapping the window took you out of your afternoon nap. Squinting, you see Nicholas staring at you. You turned over and opened the door.

“What do you want?” You yawned.

“We should talk,” Nicholas looked at something on top of the truck and back to you, “Alone.”

Shaking your head, you begrudgingly stepped out of the truck. You turned to shut the door and looked up to be greeted by bright blue eyes. Vash was apparently also napping on top of the truck and now your faces were inches from each other. You felt your face heat up as you took a step back, not expecting the proximity.

“Where you guys going?” Vash asked.

“Oh,” Nicholas put his free arm around your shoulders, “I just need to talk with Crux for a bit.”

“Alright, you two have fun,” Vash smiled before going back to his nap.

Nicholas, still with the arm around your shoulders, took you out a ways from the truck, “So, Vash’s your soulmate.” You shook off his arm and turned to him, “I told Meryl—”

“Uh uh- You said not to tell Vash, not everyone else,” Nicholas corrected.

Your face heated up, “So everyone knows...”

“Everyone except the person who actually needs to know,” Nicholas said, “Reberto doesn’t care too much and Meryl is getting antsy about it.”

“You telling me to do something about it?” you asked.

“Duh. You two like each other so go for it,” Nicholas said.

“I— It’s just—,” you paused; you realized you didn’t quite know yourself.

“Well, you haven’t killed anyone so it can’t be that. I mean you’re still a little over-protective even for me but ya know. You’re soulmates so it makes sense. I’m sure Vash would understand,” Nicholas said, adjusting the cross in this hand.

“He’s got enough to worry about,” you rambled.

“Don’t bullshit me. You’re afraid of rejection which is stupid cause you two are destined for each other for some reason. Just get it done sooner rather than later,” with that, Nicholas walked off, leaving you to your thoughts.

Rationally, you know your chances were good, but there’s that irrational part. That stupid part that makes you think he won’t like you that way. That he still hasn’t forgiven you for killing that bounty hunter. That he won’t like how you’ve been lying to him this entire time.

That’s enough doubt for you to hesitate to tell him.

The crew was again crammed into the truck, going nowhere fast. Vash seemed in better spirits this morning. Meryl and Roberto were arguing about where the next charging station is. You were between Nicholas and Vash in the back. Crossing your arms, you made yourself as small as possible so they were comfortable. You very much weren’t but you were not going to complain. Nicholas was snoring, a cigarette threatening to fall from his lip. Vash was staring off, his expression of rare seriousness. For a brief moment, you wondered if he was thinking of the bounty hunter incident but quickly erased the thought.

Vash must have felt you staring cause he looked over and smiled at you. You couldn’t help but smile back. He then yawned, stretching out his arms —As much as he could, that is— raising them up and back. You felt his prosthetic arm rest on your shoulders.

You were about to question him when he pulled you against his side. If you weren’t tense before you were now. Your heart skipped a few beats as you felt Vash’s warm body against yours. He had no right to feel this comfy.

Vash lightly giggled, “You should relax. We still got a while to go.”

You hesitated but slowly forced your body to relax against Vash’s. You carefully rested your head against his shoulder, taking it slow in case Vash disapproved. He didn’t seem to mind as he rubbed your waist with his thumb. You felt as though you were melting as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

A bright flash behind your eyelids woke you up from your nap.

“Hey rookie, That’s work property, not a toy,” you heard Roberto say.

You opened your eyes, adjusting to the light and shifting slightly so you don’t wake the still sleeping Vash. You noticed the truck was parked in a small town. The town was built in a crack of a big plateau rock formation, making it have only one road through it with buildings against or drilled into the rock.

“Your assignment is on Vash and I got a picture of Vash,” Meryl reasoned, “Besides, it was too cute not to.”

You realized Meryl must have snuck a picture of you and Vash. you were about to make your opinion known but you suddenly felt Vash’s artificial thumb rub against your skin. You now became aware that —consciously or not— Vash had pushed up your shirt enough for his hand to hold your waist.

“You look comfortable,” Nicholas leaned over to you as the others exited the truck.

“Piss off,” You muttered.

Nicholas just laughed, sticking a new cig into his mouth and hopping out of the truck. He made sure to slam the door on his way out, shaking the vehicle. Vash breathed in and straightened, his eyes struggling to open. He must have noticed where his left hand was because he instantly removed it from your side and bought it behind his head.

His cheeks tinted pink; he smiled, “Hi.”

“Hello,” you replied, leaning back on the seat instead of Vash.

You could feel the tension in the truck increasing as you and Vash gazed at each other.

“Do—”

“We—”

You both began to speak at the same time. Nervous chuckling filled the vehicle before Vash gestured for you to go.

You shook your head, “No, what were you going to say?”

“We should probably get out and stretch our legs,” Vash said.

"Agreed, let's,” when he didn’t immediately move, you started lightly pushing him, “Get out! Or I’m going to climb over you.”

Vash laughed as he struggled for a second to open the door and unceremoniously clambered out the truck, almost falling on his ass. You started laughing at him as you made your way out the vehicle before your legs gave out from the lack of use. Vash immediately stepped forward to grab you and you instinctively grabbed at his coat and put an arm around his neck.

You felt your face heat up at the close proximity but didn’t exactly separate. Mostly cause you now know you can’t trust your legs at the moment.

“Are you okay?” Vash asked, still holding on to you.

You nodded, “I will be as soon as I get some circulation back in my legs. Just don’t drop me.”

You slowly put your weight back onto your legs. Vash carefully moved from hugging you to holding onto your arms as support. By now you can feel the others watching but you were more concentrated on walking.

Once you were comfortable Vash let go of your arms. Nicholas rolled his eyes dramatically and the crew started to the nearby hotel. Meryl called dibs on getting the rooms for the night. Everyone followed her in, except for you and Vash. You opted to chill on the porch area since the weather was nice for once and Vash decided to head out to get some snacks.

Several minutes passed as you relaxed outside the hotel before Nicholas opened the door, “Rooms are set.”

“Okay,” you replied, pushing yourself off the wall you were leaning on.

Opening the door, you went in to find Meryl. She was waiting in the main lobby and gave you a key and room number. It looked like she was trying hard not to smile. Suspicious…

You climbed up to the second floor and found your room. You tried inserting the key only for it to not go in all the way. You took it out and flipped it over, trying again. Only after inserting it both ways a few times did it finally click in. Turning the handle became another annoying task as you struggled to get the door open.

“Freakin’ shabby, good-for-nothing hotels,” you muttered, “I just want to shower.”

After what felt like several minutes —and it probably was— you got into your room. You didn’t bother to analyze the contents, your sole focus now was the shower. You entered the bathroom, dropped your bag, and hopped in the shower, sighing as you felt the sand leave your body.

You heard someone struggling to open the door as you changed into a spare set of clothes. Assuming it was Meryl, you finished up your routine before grabbing your bag and heading out of the bathroom.

When you stepped out into the room you froze. Sitting on the bed was Vash. His red coat was gone and he was eating donuts from a paper bag. You glanced around the sparingly furnished room before looking back at Vash on the bed. The only bed.

Oh…

You remembered Meryl’s expression when you got your key.

Oh no….

A strange sense of calm washed over you as Vash looked over, his mouth stuffed with donuts. You walked over to the door and unlocked it. You tried turning it once. Twice. Several times. Jammed.

“Meryl!” you yelled, banging on the door.

At this point, Vash had gotten up and stood behind you as you kept trying to open the door, “What’s going on?”

“Oh, Crux, Vash,” Meryl’s voice came from the other side, “The receptionist said sometimes the door lock jams. They’ll get a locksmith out tomorrow.”

“Meryl,” You warned, not liking the slightly teasing tone of her voice.

“Anyway, I’m sure you two can figure things out,” Meryl continued, ignoring you, “Night!”

You heard her footsteps leave. You tried one last time to turn the handle before sighing and turning to Vash.

“Meryl said this was my room,” he said, sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

He doesn’t know it’s a setup.

“Ah well, nothing we can do about it now. Unless you want to try the window,” You walked up to said window.

It was so rusted and worn you didn’t even want to bother touching it, let alone escape through it. Accepting defeat you sat on the single chair in the room.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Vash offered you his last donut.

“No, I can’t let you do that, I’ll take the floor,” you replied, taking the donut.

“I insist—”

You raised your hand up, shutting up Vash as you ate the donut. you knew where this conversation was going and you frankly didn’t have the patience for the song and dance of it.

“Okay, this isn’t going to go anywhere. Either we both sleep on the bed,” you said, “or we both sleep on the floor. I know which option I prefer.”

Vash silently stared at you then the bed then the floor.

“No, Vash,” you got up from the chair, grabbing his bicep.

Vash let you drag him over to the bed. You let him go so he could take off his boots and crossed your arms as you watched him crawl into the bed. Once he was on the far left side you laid down yourself, keeping your back to him so he doesn’t feel awkward. Or maybe it was so you didn’t feel so awkward basically dragging a man into your bed.

“Night,” Vash said, shifting once more to get comfortable.

“Goodnight,” you replied.

It took you a while before you fell asleep.

You woke up thinking you felt something on your back. You must have moved to sleep on your stomach at some point in the night. You became more awake when you felt a hand lightly move across the small of your back. It dawned on you that your shirt must have rolled up while you were asleep. Your body moved before you had a chance to complete a thought and felt yourself begin to fall off the bed as you rolled off it.

You yelped as Vash immediately grabbed your arms and pulled you into his chest. You clenched your hands into his shirt and hid your face, trying to slow your breathing. His fast heartbeat wasn’t helping.

“Your name isn’t Crux, is it?” Vash said, his voice having a shake to it.

You moved back to look at Vash, his blue eyes more intense without the glasses. He adjusted, bringing up his prosthetic arm to take off the glove on his right hand. Pushing up his sleeve, he revealed your real name written on his forearm. You knew you shouldn’t be surprised but you never really did think about how your name would be written on Vash's body. Slowly, you lifted your hand to touch it.

“No, my real name is Y/N,” you replied, giving Vash confirmation.

“Y/N,” he said like an enormous weight was taken off his shoulders.

He smiled and again pulled you into a tight hug before planting several kisses on your face making you giggle. You grabbed his cheeks and pulled him into a full kiss. Vash brought up his hands and placed them over yours. It was a soft, sweet kiss that ended with you and Vash gazing into each other’s eyes.

Vash’s expression hardened a little as he started to ask you some questions, “How did you find me? And… why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’re Vash the Stampede and you’re Vash the Stampede,” you chuckled, hoping he understood what you meant.

He just laughed, “Ah well… those wanted posters don’t paint the greatest picture I guess.”

“I don’t know. Your picture is awfully cute,” you teased, making his cheeks turn pink.

A comfortable silence washed over you both before you saw Vash's eyes twinkle as your words sunk in.

"You think I'm cute?" A smile grew on his face.

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed as you glanced away, face heating up, "Well- I- I mean…"

Vash just laughed, pulling you in for another hug. Maybe you weren't so mad that you were essentially locked in your hotel room. Vash made for an excellent cuddler you soon found out.

#trigun stampede #vash #vash x reader #vash x gn!reader #vash x you #vash x reader soulmate au

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bonniebird · 1 year

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Nick Scratch x Fem!Reader

Requested by Anon

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Request: Anonymous asked: Hello. Can I request Nicholas Scratch x female reader with the prompt Do you like that? #valentine2023

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You’d gone room to room looking for Nick. He'd been kind enough to let you stay with him. Agatha had said he only did it because he liked you and for the most part, you tried to ignore what she said.

the longer you stayed with Nick the harder it was to ignore that she might like you. Taking time to think about it you decided that you would confront him. That seemed to be rather difficult seeing as he seemingly had vanished. Giving up you spent the rest of the day looking around. In the evening you could hear laughter and music. Curiously you followed it. To your surprise, it led you to Nick’s room. Knocking on the door you opened it.

“Nick? Are you in here?” You asked. Expecting him to cry out and stop you before the door was fully opened if he wanted privacy. Instead, no one answered and when you cautiously looked into the room your jaw dropped. Nick and several other witches and warlocks writhed together on his large bed. Their hands touched skin amp with sweat. The room was warm and lit with low dim lights.

“(Y/N).” Nick said as he turned to look at you. He smiled as he watched the way you observed the group. “Do you like that?” He asked as he reached out and took your hand, guiding you to sit with him on the edge of the bed, inviting you to join and follow through with your curiosity.

Nick scratch tags:

@the-caravello-post @killing-gremlin @aegonandaemondtargaryenslut18 @lchufflepuffcorn @kaitieskidmore1 @sabrinasstar @larastark3107

#nick scratch x reader #nick scratch #nicholas scratch #nicholas scratch x reader #bonniebird #valentine2023

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joojeans · 8 months

Text

˚◞♡ ⃗ I Dare You Pt. 1

♡ Bestfriend!K x Afab!Reader

♡ Summary: You’re sitting on the floor with your friends playing a juvenile game–truth or dare. Things have been spiraling out of control for some time now, but what happens when you’re dared to turn on one of your best friends without touching them? Can they handle it? Can you handle it? Spoiler alert: neither of you can. Find out how things go from seriously fucked up to seriously fucked, one member at a time.

♡ WC: 2.5k

♡ Content: cocky yudai, praise, body worship, mild exhibitionism, pinch of thigh riding, dry humping, dominant k, reader begs a lil, unprotected sex (be smart), scratching, dirty talk, creampie

♡ SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT

Fuck, it’s your turn.

Every truth and every dare have been getting increasingly more out of hand. Nicholas has already admitted to fucking in K’s bed and Fuma shared a hesitant kiss with K. You can’t even begin to imagine what will be asked of you.

Luckily, you’re not the type to turn down anything when it comes to truth or dare. You’re no bitch.

“Truth or dare, y/n?”

It’s Fuma asking, so you almost feel safe. Or, you would, but he’s been surprisingly less… gentlemanly tonight. Whatever is in the air seems to have gotten to him too.

“Dare.” You’re no bitch.

Fuma ponders for a moment, rubbing his jaw. His eyes glance away from yours to look at K and he smirks. “I dare you to give K a stiffy.”

“You dare me to wha–”

“Without touching his dick.”

As if the clarification helps. It doesn’t. You tilt your head and look at K, curious about what he thinks of the dare. “I can’t exactly do that without his consent, you know.”

Aha. An easy out. Surely, he won’t agree to it, right? You’re just friends. That would be weird.

K shrugs, crossing his arms with a self-satisfied smirk as he leans back against the couch. “You can try. It won’t work, though. I have amazing self control.”

Fuma rolls his eyes. “This is exactly what I thought he’d say. You have to prove him wrong, y/n. He’s so cocky about everything. Knock him down a peg. Please?”

Your tongue pokes into your cheek as you think about it, glaring at an all-too-confident K. Seeing him look so sure of himself does make you want to show him that you’re more powerful than whatever self control he claims to have. Plus, you’d be able to hold this over his head forever. That sounds fun.

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

K’s jaw slackens just slightly. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting you to go through with it, but he quickly recomposes himself, eyes daring you further. “Let’s see it then. Give it your best effort.”

What K seems to be forgetting is that you’re not only a girl, but you’re his best friend. You know how to seduce a man, but even more, you know exactly how to get to K. You don’t become someone’s best friend without learning about what makes them tick along the way. You won’t need long.

You crawl across the floor to where K is sitting. He moves his arms out of the way, expecting you to sit in his lap or something. Nope. You push him forward enough so that you can sit on your knees between his back and the couch. His hands float awkwardly in the air, not sure where this is going. You smooth them down with your hands to let them rest at his sides.

Your hands take up residence on his shoulders, massaging them. K winces slightly at the feeling. You’re throwing him off because nothing you’re doing is what he expected. You dig your fingers deep into his flesh as you move, working at his neck and along his shoulders. You hum, the sound closer to his ear than he expected–evidenced by the way he stiffens momentarily under your hands. “So strong, aren’t you, K?”’

He nods. “Mhm.”

Your hands glide down to his upper arms. They’re doing less massaging and more fondling here, cooing at the strength of them. “I can tell you work soo hard. You do such a good job perfecting your body, mm?” You let your nose nudge against his neck as if it were an accident, pressing your chest against his back. “You’ve got a perfect figure. I bet every part of you is perfect from head to toe. You’re so gorgeous, K. So fucking strong and firm.” To add insult to injury, you make a sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan.

K is struggling to keep up his unwavering facade, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he tries to reign himself in. You knew all this praise would get to him. He always preens when you give him even the smallest compliment. This is more than he’s used to handling.

Determined to prove that he’s not fazed by you, he takes your hands and guides them down his chest to his abs. He presses your palms flat against the material of his shirt, the defined muscles easy to feel even through the fabric. You’re hovering over his shoulder at this point, so you turn your head to face him. He mirrors you, looking right at you as if he expects you to give up now that he’s pushed you further.

“God, K.” You practically moan it and his tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “I know I said every part of you is perfect, but I didn’t expect you to be this perfect.” You chew on your lip for his eye, hands grazing up and down his abs. You feel them tense under your hand and you have to keep from smirking at him. You can’t even see whether or not there’s a tent in his sweats–intent on holding his eyes–but you’d be willing to bet everything there is one.

“Want to feel something even more impressive?” K’s words catch you off guard this time, one of his hands pushing yours further down until it meets the resistance of his waistband. A few fingers slip past, touching the skin underneath and you gasp silently. He’s not wearing underwear?

Your eyes are all over his face, jaw slack. He’s good. You don’t push your hand further inside his pants, but you don’t remove it either. You don’t want to and you weren’t prepared for that outcome. This was supposed to be about K.

“Alright, alright.” Fuma interrupts the bubble you and K have found yourselves in. “Enough. I said no touching dick, didn’t I? Besides, you already did it. He’s going to spring right out of his pants if you push down any further.”

You glance down and see that K is, indeed, straining against his sweats. You want to feel victorious but, instead, you feel hungry. You can’t seem to take your eyes off what you’ve done to K. You. You did that. To your best friend.

“I don’t care that she got me.” K's hand wraps itself around your wrist, not pulling it from inside his pants. “Look at her eyes. I got her too.”

Your cheeks heat up at his words. It’s as if you forgot that all your other friends could see you practically salivating over K’s dick. You look up and around the room to find them all looking at you incredulously. Are they surprised to have seen you seducing K like that or are they surprised to see you cock drunk in the middle of the living room for a cock you’ve never even had?

You start to pull your hand back, but K’s grip tightens around your wrist. He removes your hand but keeps hold of you. “Excuse us.”

Before you can make sense of everything that just happened and is continuing to happen right now, K is dragging you down the hallway to his bedroom.

“K, what are you doing? Why are we–”

K closes his bedroom door once the two of you have passed the threshold, gathering you into his arms and slotting his lips against yours. He hums, you whine. Confusion, relief. You follow his lead, kissing him with the impatient intensity he kisses you with. He falls onto his bed with you beneath him, hands brutishly grabbing at your hips. He pulls back just enough to glance down, hand sneaking inside the bottom of your shirt to touch the warm skin of your hip.

“K–” You gasp for breath, hands holding onto the front of his shirt. “We aren’t having sex.”

He laughs, looking back at you with stars in his eyes. “Duh. We’re just going to make out for a while because you caused a problem for both of us. Would you rather we go back out there and keep playing as if we aren’t so fucking horny right now?”

You scrunch your nose, not wanting to admit that he’s right. “Well… no. But–”

“Exactly. Just kiss me.”

K catches your lips with his again, slotting his knee between your legs. You instinctively grind yourself against it and you feel embarrassed, especially when K smirks against your lips. “Go on, pretty,” he coos. “Get yourself off on me. I’m feeling nice.”

You smack his chest playfully, but your fist clutches at the material of his shirt, hips grinding against his thigh. You sigh, leaning your head back to enjoy the sensation until K lifts your face back up with a strong hand.

“I said kiss me.”

You both lean into each other at the same time, lips and tongues everywhere as they work with and against each other. K fights your tongue for dominance, groaning when your grinding against his thigh occasionally brushes against his erection. His hands start to guide your hips, making sure you graze over his cock each time. He wants to get off too, after all.

Unfortunately for you, all this does is make you even more needy. You could’ve gotten off perfectly fine on his thigh, but feeling his cock against you, even through the layers of clothing, is making you want more. Need more.

“Fuck, K,” you groan, hips lifting to feel as much of him as you can.

“Hmm?” He teases, knowing very well what you’re on about as meets your hips with his, firmly pressing himself against you.

You whine and you sigh. He feels so fucking good. You can’t believe you’re about to say what you are.

“God, fuck. K, just fuck me. I can’t stand it.”

K chuckles, lips dropping to your neck. “That’s not a very nice way to ask your best friend for something like that.” His lips busy themselves on your neck, his hand reaching down to unbutton your jeans. “Ask nicely.” He pulls down your zipper.

Frustrated, you almost tell him to fuck off. But you know you can’t at this point. You need him to fuck this out of you. You can’t be left with this feeling or all you’ll do when you see him from now is think about what he’d feel like inside you. You swallow your pride.

“Please, K.” Your breath catches in your throat when he lifts your hips, shimmying your pants down your legs, your underwear coming off with them. “I need you inside me so bad, please.”

He’s holding himself up on one arm as he grins down at you, free hand palming himself through his sweats. “There we go, princess. Was that so hard?” He leans in to kiss you again, sighing into your mouth as he frees his aching cock from his pants. He guides his leaking tip up and down your folds, testing your entrance to see if you’re ready for him or if he needs to prep you. He doesn’t.

“Fuck, baby. You’re this wet for me? Starting to think you wanted me to fuck you even before that stupid little game.”

One of his hands holds the side of your face as the other guides himself inside you, both of you moaning at the feeling. He bottoms out easily with the help of your overwhelming arousal, his hips finding their rhythm without any time needed to adjust.

“S-shit,” you moan, each of K’s thrusts entering you with power behind it. Your hand reaches over his shoulders and pulls at his shirt until it’s bunched up at the top. You grab at his bare back, nails digging into his skin when he kisses your cervix particularly hard. “Feel so fucking good, K.”

K’s eyes are fixed on the sight of himself disappearing into you over and over, his mouth hung open in awe. He hisses at the sting of your clawing, but only proceeds to fuck you harder, wanting more of it. He uses the hand that’s not keeping him up to pull your hips up in time with his thrusts, wanting to sink his cock as deep inside you as humanly possible. “You take me so–” He groans. “Fucking well.”

You whimper as the pleasure is quickly becoming overwhelming, your hand clapping over your mouth. You weren’t exactly planning to be fucking with your friends just in the other room tonight. K notices you trying to keep quiet and smiles at you, smug. “Feels too good, baby?” He picks up his pace, clearly trying to make it more difficult for you. “You wanted them to know that you could get me hard but you don’t want them to know you let me fuck it out on you?”

K tsks and leans in until his lips are by your ear. “They’re not stupid, pretty. They know you’re in here wrapped around my cock.” He nibbles at your ear, cursing under his breath when he feels you clenching around his cock like a vice grip. “Gonna cum all over my cock with them just outside, aren’t you?”

He pulls back to look at you as you whine, covering your hand over your mouth with his own, looking down at you like you’re his prey. “Do it, then. Cum for me.”

Something about the way he’s looking at you with dark, determined eyes and the way his hand is trapping yours and the way he’s fucking into you at a relentless pace despite how slowly he’s talking… it’s all too much. Your toes curl as your orgasm approaches, biting the inside of your hand hard to keep from crying out K’s name where everyone outside can hear it. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and K watches with lustful eyes, his own hips stuttering from the feeling of you cumming on his cock.

“Fuck, y/n. You’re so fucking sexy–fuck.” The veins of his arms are straining, trying to keep himself steady as he fucks into you a final few times before pumping you full of his cum.

The fatigue hits you both immediately. You were running on such high adrenaline levels this entire time, and the sexual release also released the adrenaline. K slows, breathing ragged, until he pulls out of you and falls onto his back next to you. You lie there panting for a bit, both of you trying to make sense of what just happened.

It’s you that turns to look at him first. He feels your gaze and turns his head to meet you, lips pulling into a playful smirk. “I should tell them how wet you were for me. You know, since they got to see how hard you made me.”

You smack his chest, narrowing your eyes even as you laugh. “Absolutely not! We will never speak of this again. You hear me?”

K hums, lids lowering as he turns on the charm. “You really think that, don’t you, pretty?” He pauses, allowing you to nod your response. “Mm, you’ll see. You’ll be begging me to fuck you like that again in no time.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll let you pretend until then, though.”

#k #k smut #&team smut #andteam smut #andteam k smut #&team k smut

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zaceouiswriting · 2 years

Text

Unholy, holy trinity

Characters: Caliban x male reader, Nicholas Scratch x male reader

Universe: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Warnings: None

Being an angle and the prince of light, had his ups, you thought there were only ups to this position until Archangel Michael came to you in a hurry.

As hell began to break down, because of the disappearance of Lucifer, and the death of his daughter, one of the princes living there took the throne. One, without feelings. He declared war on humans, the moment he took the crown.

But before Michael would send the legions of heaven to stop the insanity, he wanted to try a diplomatic approach. That is where you came into play. Born to only do your job, you accepted of course. How could you say no to the general of heaven's army? Especially when he had drawn out his flaming sword?

That Michael and you had a hate relationship was nothing new. Your father had hidden you for a long, just to at one point, give you the status of a prince. Entirely to Michaels's dismay, because he thought this place was his.

Now you could see, how much he loved that you had this position because he could play you as he wanted.

You were sent down directly into hell. Your white aura and the golden wings, made me fear all of them there. Not one of them had a chance against an archangel. But the new lord of hell had only victory in his eyes.

„Even the all mighty angels are falling to my knees! Look at their pathetic weakness!“, you loudly exclaimed.

You could only scoff at his ignorance. „No, king made of clay. I was sent here to propose a marriage between hell and heaven. To stop an eternal war on earth, between the legions of heaven and the horde of hell.“

It was obvious, that you looked down at the king, on his throne, made out of lies. The magic he is wielding is heavenly in nature. What would he do if he knew?

„And who are you, that a marriage like this would bind both our homes?“

„I’m the crown prince of heaven. If my father should die, which is not possible, but if it should happen, I would ascent to become a god myself.“

His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree after that. You could see the eagerness in his eyes. But he did not seem to understand that he would not become a god, it doesn’t matter what would happen.

As he walked down the stairs, you saw him half naked, a thin vest was over his shoulders and hid the sides of his toned body, while the rest was open to you. You would’ve lied if you had said, that he wasn’t attractive. You had feelings and lust too.

And born to follow your father, you did not care if someone was a man or a woman, but you still for yourself preferred the first.

Men like Caliban the king of hell. Even though he could be a bit bigger with a little more muscles, his athletic build was already good enough.

Shortly after he left his throne and came down to you, he walked around you, looking you up and down, even lifted your shirt a bit, at least the bit, that wasn’t held down by the armor you wore. He felt about your flawless toned body.

„I will talk to my advisors,“ he whispered into your ear before leaving you stranded with weak knees. You felt pathetic after all, so easily courted by a demon. But they were more or fewer children of your father and Lucifer, so nobody could tell, that you are weak, because both together have the charisma to break anyone.

You awaited his answer in hopes he would accept it. To be free from the shackles Michael had bound you to, would be a blessing you could not refuse. Especially not, if you eternity would have his look.

They came back not long after, a proud dirty smile on the face of the king. „We accept your offer.“

„We would also need a human in this alliance,“ you finally broke the last part of this agreement. At first, Caliban seemed disinterested. Until you told him, that it wasn’t important who would be chosen. As long as this person was a human though and through.

He was sold immediately after and even postponed the ceremony for finding the right person, which took alarmingly not even an hour.

As Caliban came back, with another man in shackles behind him, you immediately dissolved them, which also let Caliban’s smile fade, but you did not care. „An angel and a demon?“, the human asked with fear and curiosity in his voice.

„You really chose the ex-boyfriend of the last queen of hell?“ Your eyes couldn’t even as far into your head as you wanted.

„He already has experience with people like us, he is good-looking and as I heard from witches, a drug in bed,“ Caliban told you, while slithering around you, whispering in your ear.

Trying hard to not break your mask, you only nodded, „Okay, then let us bring this behind us!“

The day of marriage was not in hell or in heaven, but on earth, so symbolizes the trinity. All three tribes were there. Even Michael was there, but he did not look happy, that your mission was this successful. Strengthen your position as prince of heaven.

Just before you three, bound yourself to one another with an arm ring, which is normal in heaven, you were allowed to do something otherworldly.

„I’m allowed to give both of you a blessing. But before that, Nicholas? I will need to heal your broken soul.“ He looked stunned in your eyes.

„I thought only death could bring me peace?“

Again you scoffed loudly, „No that was a lie, Michael brought about humanity. We angels can heal broken souls, if you believe in us enough and ask for help. He just doesn’t want to have heaven full of beings he looks at as insects.“

While Nicholas stood there in stunned silence, you held your right hand above his head, while your left was over his heart. With a bright white light, everything vanished. His body was in perfect condition and his mind was free, from everything he had to endure.

„Your blessing will be immortality and in the same vain eternal youth.“ Another bright light, washed over Nicholas, as heavenly magic filled his body.

„And you Caliban were born out of clay and the wish of hell itself to have someone in power, that is from its own soil. I give you a real body, out of flesh and blood. To give me like Nicholas will, children to rule all the planes of existing one day.“

As the white bright light fell on Caliban this time, he screamed. Demons already wanted to attack, as the light vanished and a new Caliban stood in front of them. Longhorns, coming out of his head, his long blond hair became short. His eyes were black as the night surrounded by dark red veins. Taller and more muscles as you had wished. Now he looked like the king of hell, with four teeth two down and two up, sharp enough to rip someone into shreds.

His people stood there astonished, at the power you have in your and the new existence, of a real king of hell and not just a golem out of clay.

It was save to say, that the rest of the ceremony was a success as well. But what happened on the night of closing this holy, unholy trinity was just another story.

[Masterlist]

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na-t0 · 1 year

Text

𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳

Nicholas D. Wolfwood x reader (fem)

nsfw . male masturbation . multiple mentions of religious themes . minors please do not interact

"I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth...shit, what's next?"

Despite of what others think, Nicholas D. Wolfwood has come to the conclusion that he is indeed, the perfect example to belie the thought commonly held by people that him, and all the other children of the Lord who is high in the heavens, are made in his image and likeness. He is just a man, a mere mortal, vulnerable and weak in the face of temptation, son of original sin. Trying to atone for, and amend, the errors that life has brought within his path, and from which he cannot seem to escape.

Same life that unfortunately has also placed him in the way of your so intoxicating self. As if it were an unforgivable and cruel test to endure the strength of his already cracked spirit, a test to prove how much he is capable of resisting when the sharp claws of lust slowly scratch his back when he tries to sleep and the image of your beautiful face invades his mind. He also claims being able to feel them scratching once again when, after what seems like an eternal week of waiting, he manages to spot you sitting among the 47 people that fit in the orphanage’s chapel at the time of the religious ceremony he presents on Sundays at 10 in the morning.

Nicholas talks to himself all the time. He talks about a whole bunch of different things to stay busy and distant from the loneliness that his profession entails. He also writes, on a small black notebook that shamelessly reads Holy Bible on its cover, which he keeps in the inside pocket of his suit all day. It is possible to find random thoughts scrambled between its pages, occasional unfinished sketches of the kids who visit him frequently, prayers and attempts at poetry that, despite the ease he possesses to release a speech towards an audience made up of people full of faith in the word he preaches every weekend, the simple idea that one day you might inadvertently read what lies on those yellowish paper sheets terrifies him to the point where he can feel each and every one of his nerve endings on the surface of his skin, pulsing with the same intensity as the wings of a flying hummingbird.

He writes for you, more specifically. Even though in life, there are weaknesses that sometimes, do not allow the deepest feelings of the heart to flourish freely.

"I am just an object waiting to be ashes, and it is precisely for that reason that I would like my body to burn until it is consumed as one with yours. So at the end, dust will be the only thing that remains of our spirits, mixed together, to be later carried away by the wind of this unforgiving desert we call home."

“I have reached such a degree of insanity that, not even with the help of a thousand divine healing rites, my composure will return. I have even considered exchanging the blood of as many sinners as necessary to the Devil in order to melt into the blazing but purifying fire that surely arises with the single touch of your lips, and if you allow me, to endulge in the perfect contradiction that lies between your legs. A place both sacred and infernal, a place where good and evil converge and is powerful enough to drive even the most righteous and ruthless of religionists to an infinite madness. A place that I can only imagine feels like heaven and hell at the same time, capable to burn but also soothe the wounds in the soul of a disgraceful believer, one such as myself, your humble servant.”

“And I am not ashamed to affirm in front of the cross in which the son of God was punished because of filth like me, that, your mere presence encourages me to violate every order imposed by the invisible power of my belief, all that for what he, the same guy I mentioned earlier, sacrificed himself for in the first place. He sacrificed himself for you and especially for me, and above all, for the atrocities that come with the human race to disappear from the world. Such as the kind of things that flood my mind when my gaze manages to distinguish a little glimpse of your underwear when you put on that pretty dress of yours and you take a seat in the front row. A dress I like to imagine you only use for me.”

When Sunday comes, the ceremony starts and it's your turn at the moment of communion. It all happens in a matter of minutes every single time, a fleeting contact that is difficult to remove from his system. The host is delicately held by Wolfwood's hands as he stares at you, the abyss of his obsidian orbs capturing your attention to ask for your permission. You nod and look back at him too, subtly batting your eyelashes and slowly sticking out your tongue in an inviting way, that more than innocent, seemed diabolical, as if you knew which cards to move to obtain an absolute victory. And he feels it, he feels something struck his chest. Like a pair of magnets who can't fight the silent attraction that tries to unite them. You glance at the thick fingers infront of you for an instant, and then once again, you lift your stare towards him to take the host. His breathing stopped the moment he felt the back of his fingers get in contact with the wetness of your tongue while accommodating the wafer on it, and he almost, just almost, stutters in his words, but he doesn't, it takes all of his will not to. He blinks and his hand moves away from your lips to continue with the the other presents. You turn around and go back to your place without looking back. Luckily for him, the robe that covers his body does not allow to reveal any trace of what could give away his growing hunger for you.

Reminiscing something that he himself already wrote once in his notebook.

“It’s a disgusting sight, truly. How you take the sacramental bread from the hands of a sinful bastard, how you try to be purified by the same hands that are permanently stained with the obscene thought of consuming your body, your entire being. But you don’t have an idea of how much I love it, how much I want you to be mine.”

The lecture finished at 10:57 a.m. Nicholas remembers glancing at the watch on his wrist to regain the track of time he lost when you got close to his body. Seeing that people were starting to get up, he decided to clean his instruments to leave everything in order, and at the same time, bring some peace to his mind. He didn't have long arranging his space when Wolfwood felt a sudden and intense urge to look back, and when he did, you were the first thing that he focused on, stumbling upon the surprise of your eyes already searching for his while walking to the exit, wearing the most precious smile he’s ever seen on your face. A smile just for him.

By 11:23 a.m. the chapel was completely empty and Wolfwood walked with an unbearable weight on his feet towards the confined space of the confessional, along with a box of matches in hand that he took from an old cabinet. He closed the door, took a seat and leaned his head against the wall, which protested with a slight screech, as if it knew what was going through the troubled man's mind. Of course you appeared immediately, the images of every time you two have exchanged greetings in the streets, in the market, or even at the events to raise funds for the orphanage.

First came the color of your eyes, which seemed to dominate and illuminate the darkness of the small space he was in, then your eyebrows and the expressions that characterize your words while speaking. Thirdly, your mouth, the Eden he dreams of so much, reflected in the shine that your lips acquire when you bite and wet them with saliva. Imagining how they move to the compass of your voice, if they are rounded, if you smile or if you stay quiet. Nicholas raised his right hand and gently touched his own mouth to try to calm the urgency of joining it with yours. He closed his eyes and remembered the slight meeting he had with it an hour ago. The warmth of your breath on his knuckles and the softness he touched with the pads of his mistreated fingers. How easy would it be to draw a whimper out of you, the sweetest sound he can think of. His pants began to feel more and more uncomfortable with every passing minute, the pressure exerted by the growing erection in his groin started to become unbearable. Will he be able to obtain salvation if he confesses everything, here and now?

"God...please" And just as he often does, he began to talk. "I want her more than...a-anything in this world...can't I have her either?" The hand that previously touched your lips, traveled up to his crotch and gave a first cautious squeeze, allowing himself to be carried away by the venom of the serpent that condemned us all as sinners centuries ago, which little by little contaminated his veins and blinded his sight. Now not only did he imagine the Eden in your beauty, he was about to enter that precious place, only to break the rules. "I haven't been...a g-good man, but..." His breathing began to falter, with great gulps of air, his chest rose and fell, trying to oxygenate his racing heart. "I swear I...I can treat her right." The restraint of the stiff bottoms was starting to be painful for Nicholas, so he reached for the button, hastily undoing it to reach into his underwear. The burning heat of desire greeting him. And as he could, he pulled out his member from the base without removing his pants. The cold edge of the zipper brushed against the prominent veins of his rigid sex while his hand tried to conciliate the relief he so desperately needed. He kept traveling with his mind through your neck, your chest, your waist and your navel, the unknown nudity that he longes for unfolding before him in an imaginary scenario within the four small walls of the confessional. His breathing became more and more disturbed and growls began to sprout from the depths of his being.

"I'm sorry, God...I'm so s-sorry" He started to apologize because he knows exactly what is next. He enjoys being rough with his wicked self, he is violent. Pulling his own hair with one hand while the other strokes himself harshly. He spits on the tip, and watches how saliva slowly rolls to the base. He grunts, an animalistic type of sound that reveals the wildest part of his existence, his human predatory instinct, the part that he tries to repress with calling himself a preacher of the Lord’s word. He likes to tighten the grip in his member to the point where the veins on his forehead begin to become visible and the color of his shaft changes entirely with the accelerated flow of blood. Suffocating in his own body, a prisoner of his dark desires.

"Our Father, who...a-art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on earth as it is...i-in heaven." It was in that moment when he began to pray. And the drops of fluid that came out of his slit with anticipation gave his hand more access to stroke with a quicker pace. From outside the confessional, it was possible to hear the faint slippery sound of friction from skin to skin and the murmured pleas of a man sunk in perdition.

"Give us this day our daily bread, a-and forgive us our trespasses...as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temp-temptation...but deliver us from...evil."

Would God be able to truly forgive such an act?

"A-Amen."

And it's just when he finishes his pleas that he finds himself betrayed by his own mind, letting your name slip from his lips, over and over again, like a renovated prayer, but profane and corrupted. The peculiar burning sensation in the lower part of his abdomen starts to approach. He bites the collar of his white camisole and drool escapes from the sides of his mouth in the delirium of a near orgasm. Squeezing his eyes shut he imagined your breasts swaying in front of his face as you grind on top, your angelic face contorted with the ecstasy of a fictional encounter, and your core eagerly receiving each of his thrust. The sweet aroma that your sweat must have and all the possible ways you could moan his name.

"Ni..cholas, ah...Nicholas...Nic..."

The entirety of his skin crawls to the thought. And his hips begin to move with an unbridled, involuntary frenzy, consequence of the carnal instinct that species keep hidden in their bodies.

"Oh...God..please, please...ple-please." He calls uselessly for the only one who could redeem him, the only one who could accept a sin like this. Finally, he rapidly drags his hand a couple of last times and the orgasm begins to hit his senses. A last growl comes out of his chest before his teeth unconsciously loosen the fabric of the shirt to let out a deafened cry. With some last thrusts, his hips rise in a lost rhythm from the bench on which he is sitting as his seed spills violently into his right hand, staining some of the fabric of his black pants along the way.

The warm sensation of contact with his own release brings him back to himself, and he can only at this point, contemplate more clearly the mistake he has made.

“Divine forgiveness, what a bunch of shit.”

He drops the other hand that was tugging at his brunette locks in the heat of the momentum inside his pocket, pulls out a cigarette, places it in his mouth and proceeds to wipe the remains of cum on his right palm with a handkerchief, so he can pick up the matches he had brought with him, light the stick, and take a hit, trying to quell with smoke the latent nectar of lonely intimacy impregnated in the air. He takes a few moments to let the haze of the moment pass completely as he watches the mess in his lap and his now softened member.

The cigarette is half finished, he is a fast smoker.

He inhales and exhales once more, and then, there’s a subtle, almost silent, knock on the door, followed by what he recognizes is your voice coming from the rusty confession room's grate.

“F-Father Nicholas...?”

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