#I love that they've made it their mission

[revenantghost]

The fact that Bigolas Dickolas is out there using their powers for the greater good (getting people to read Trimax) is truly the greatest gift that they could ever give

[labwebs]

🕸is it bad that i want mj to get her renew your vows suit in sm2 mostly because it’d be fun watching all the dudebros have breakdowns/tantrums about playing as her especially if we get a 3rd game or uh?

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ooo you’re doing Pressure!!

May I request an artist reader who, throughout the journey found some paper, pencil and made a little makeshift sketchbook and when later bought Sebastian’s document decided to try and draw him? Like maybe both when human and current (and maybe the monsters)? 

Perhaps he saw them sketching, got curious and decided to look through it when reader left it somewhere or just straight up snatched it and held it out of their reach and sees those sketches of him. Could be hurt/comfort or angst/fluff.

Of course you’re free to change any of the details but please keep it platonic TwT

Aw love this idea! And it works considering all the paper and notebooks in the drawers of the blacksite.

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

"Great, [y/n]. One moment, you're doing some harmless graffiti on a brick wall nobody cares about. And the next, you're risking your life for a stupid crystal in hopes you'll get a federal pardon.."

Sighing, you held onto the overhead handles within the sleek black submarine, feeling it shake and rumble as it breached the water's surface. And after hearing the chime, the door hissed and opened up, the platform extending out onto the dock of a place already familiar to you: Hadal Blacksite.

'No place like home..' As you stepped out of the submarine, you could hear HQ over the PDA system informing you of your objective in reaching the crystal and collecting any "loose assets" you find along the way...

As if you needed any reminders of what you were doing here.

Immediately, you unlocked the first door with the keycard and began your journey to room 100. Along the way, you found a good handful of research data. Nothing too special aside from folders, USB drives, and a couple blue DNA vials.

Then after narrowly dodging the Angler in one area and avoiding Eyefestation's gaze in the next, you reached a room requiring yet another keycard to exit. You checked the nearby office cubicle, finding it in the first drawer you opened.

But that isn't what made your eyes light up. Rather, it's what was right next to the card that did:

A brand new pencil to go with the sketchbook you've been carrying with you.

Because you weren't given the luxury of doodling while sitting in jail for over 90 days, you felt your creativity flames being snuffed out, leaving you itching to draw something again.

Before all of this, you had a decent following on social media with your art skills, and you could imagine that they're worried sick over your sudden absence. But you hoped that, if you survive and succeed in this mission, you'll be able to come back and reassure them that you're very much alive.

And perhaps show them what Urbanshade has been hiding from the public...that is to say the sea monsters that have taken up residence in the Blacksite since its lockdown, freely roaming and haunting nearly every room you step into.

With the makeshift sketchbook you had (and somehow kept even after death), you've filled its pages with simple and detailed sketches of each creature you encountered.

But you doubt that they would let you leave with physical evidence of entities nobody else in the world should know about...unless you somehow convinced the guards that they were "original characters" that so-happened to look like them, but you had a feeling that excuse wouldn't fly.

Regardless, they've given you tons of artistic inspiration, despite your many close-calls with them in pursuit of studying their features from afar.

Thanks to the files Sebastian Solace has shown you, you've learned how to safely observe the Angler from a distance and better remember their details. They were merely a grotesque face surrounded by smoke, so you didn't have to worry about drawing any limbs or tails (assuming they had those).

You encountered their variants so many times that you could recall the little things that made each them unique--like how Pinkie had four pupils, how Blitz was missing pupils in one socket completely, how Froger was..well..a big frog with lots of needle-shaped teeth, and Chainsmoker was a sluggish blobfish through all that smoke.

Making eye contact with Pandemonium was a death sentence..as you've already learned after trying (and failing) to safely observe him through a glass window. So you draw him as you see him in his file.

The Squiddles' "intimidating" faces were scary in the dark when you least expected them, but they served as amazing inspiration. You even had a page full of what faces you'd think they make up to frighten others. It's too bad you couldn't show them, however, as that required you getting in their personal space.

Eyefestation, Good People, and the Wall Dwellers were quite..risky to observe, as they had ways of quickly and painfully sending you back to square one if you weren't careful. Even so, you made some pretty damn good sketches..and you wish you could show them off to them, too, especially to the shark who'd probably appreciate a human's drawing of herself.

Even the DiVine, who were always frozen in poses for some reason, joined your ever-growing list of muses. The oxygen gardens were a nice place for you to rest and appreciate the flora for a few moments--before an Angler came along, of course.

Then there was Sebastian.

While he was fully aware of your artistic passions, in the beginning he seemed a bit annoyed whenever you came into his shop just to sketch.....or if you took an unusually long time to reach him. He just assumes you've stopped to "doodle" and wonders if you really care about getting out of this place alive.

He'd remind you that HQ could get suspicious if you're off their radar for too long, but you've stayed in his shop for 10-20 minutes at a time and not once did your diving gear beep. So you reassured him not to fret.

It was kinda sweet that he worried over you, an expendable, although maybe that's because you actually treat him with decency..and don't take his snarky comments to heart whenever you died.

Aside from the occasional eyeroll whenever you brought out your sketchbook, he did inquire about some of the things you've drawn, and you'd show him, bearing a little pride in your work.

All you'd get in response was a "neato" or "wowie, that's how you see them?" and nothing more.

It wasn't insulting, so...you'll take that.

Obviously he was more concerned about how much research data you were willing to fork over in exchange for supplies, and how far that equipment will carry you before your next demise. So you'd eventually close the book and barter with him for whatever wares were on his tail.

Unbeknownst to him, you've actually started sketching him as of late. Now that you've met him dozens of times, it was easy for you to recall his features without needing to stare at him for reference every five seconds.

That would not only be rude, but very creepy.

Then one day, you showed up to Sebastian's shop with enough data to be able to afford his document, which described him as Z-13, "The Saboteur" who the company wanted "dead on sight" if he was spotted or trying to escape.

When you had time to read the file on your own, you learned some..pretty shocking things about how he caused the lockdown, went through torturous experiments, and was falsely accused of nine murders and was proven innocent far too late.

The most upsetting part was that he was never informed of this.

He learned that after presumably stealing his own document.

It made you feel sick to your stomach, knowing he's the reason you're being terrorized by those beasts, but you couldn't find it in your heart to be angry at him.

If anything you were angry at Urbanshade for their "guilty until proven innocent" system--or in his case, being proven innocent didn't matter.

His human mugshot was also included in the file, and even with the black censor bar covering his eyes, he still looked like quite a handsome fellow. You could make out some details, and ended up drawing him on a separate page, too, although part of you wishes you never started.

You doubt he would kill you or rip apart your book for drawing him, but considering how volatile and rude he could be at a moment's notice..you did your best to conceal the sketches when you visited his shop.

You didn't want him to be offended or reminded of his past..and make him resent the one person who he almost considered a genuine friend.

Unfortunately, you'd soon come to realize that your actions were only heightening his suspicions.

And that it was going to come to a head next time you entered his shop.

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

"Okay, I'm going to bite...what're you really hiding in that little book?"

"Pardon?" Pausing mid-sketch, you looked up at Sebastian, wondering why he appeared so disgruntled. "I'm..uh...just doodling like I always-"

"No, don't give me that "like always" crap." He huffed, flicking the end of his tail as he crossed his two arms over his chest, staring down at you. "Last time, you couldn't stop showing me a stupid face you'd think one of those S-Qs would make...and now you won't even let me have a sneak peak of your next "masterpiece"." He spat the last word, voice dripping with disdain. "Are you really drawing something...or are you secretly writing intel to give to Urbanshade?"

"...wha.." You blinked in disbelief, wondering where he'd get that assumption from. "Why would I ever do that?"

"Oh I dunno, maaaybe because you have access to my file and know my location? I bet you're gonna sell me out to those scumbags once you reach the crystal." He gnashed his teeth. "Did they say you'd get extra cash for leaving tips on my whereabouts, huh?"

"Sebastian, there's no reason for this hostility. I'm not giving any intel to anyone-"

"Then you wouldn't mind me taking a look at this, would you? Yyyyyyoink!" His third arm was quick to snatch your sketchbook away, holding it out of your reach as you jumped up in panic.

You were already dreading his reaction.

This could very well be the end for you.

"Please give that back! You'll tear it!"

"You look frightened. So maybe I should, considering you're writing secrets about.....about...." But as Sebastian finally looked at the page, all he saw were sketches of his current self, and you began to see a shift in his expression.

It went from pure anger, to surprise and confusion, and then to....something unreadable.

"These are...all of me?" His voice became quieter as he flipped the page, only for his breath to hitch upon finding the drawings of his human form.

And for once, he was completely speechless.

The details were immaculate, everything from his hair style to the scar he used to have across his face--given to him from an angry cellmate who thought he really did kill those people and tried giving him a "taste of his own medicine".

But the way you made him look was...incredible.

That's him.

That's really him.

The man--the human--he was before...

Before...

"Yes." Your face was burning with embarrassment, and your heart was pounding with fear of both death and ridicule, now knowing that your fate laid in his hands now. "I-I'm sorry. I should've asked for your permission and I know the details aren't perfect but you didn't let me........huh?"

Ceasing your ramblings, you noticed the tears welling in his eyes, and you were stunned. Then his shaking hands closed the sketchbook and returned it to you. "Um..are you okay? I'm really sorry if-"

"I...a-almost forgot what I looked like before all of this.." He raised a claw to wipe at his watery eyes, sniffling. "They're...good drawings, friend. I'm sorry..I...I-I didn't mean to..." His voice cracked, and he forced himself to stop, bringing his hands to his face. "Why am I crying over something like..t-this..?"

He hated looking so weak in front of you, yet he couldn't help the tears that kept slipping down his cheeks. A certain sadness was weighing heavily on his heart, yet at the same time he felt...honored that you wanted to draw him, putting your heart and soul into every sketch--with him getting the most effort.

You didn't overexaggerate him as the hideous beast he and everyone else was convinced he was, but just him as, well, himself. His smiles when he realizes it's you coming through the vent again, his cheeky grins when you buy up all his supplies, and even the one time he pouted when you died to Pandemonium because you risked it all trying to draw the moldy fish-creature.

The human ones, as you could tell from the way he broke down, especially hit home for him. Just from a mugshot alone, you were able to create a near-accurate depiction of him.

It made him wonder if you two have met before any of this happened.

Sebastian sniffled, struggling to stop the tears and expecting you to make fun of him as he finally uncovered his face. But instead he saw you standing there with your arms opened up. "I feel like you could use one of these. It's okay. I know you miss being human."

".........."

"C'mon, big guy. My arms are kinda hurting--oh!"

Without warning, he accepted your embrace and squeezed you tightly in his hold. Of course he was careful not to crush your diving tanks, and you smiled in appreciation and patted his back. "It's okay, it's alright..I got you. I didn't mean to make you cry."

He sniffled a few times, but otherwise said nothing and tried making sure you weren't supporting all of his upper body weight.

Curse his size. He wishes he could experience a normal hug again.

This one will do, though.

"I-It's...it's fine. Don't worry.." He finally spoke after a few moments, calming down. "As long as you don't tell anyone about this."

"I'll take it to my grave." You chuckled, letting go and stepping away so he could straighten his back out. While he did that, you gently tore a few pages from your book, to which he blinked in confusion.

"What are you doing with-?"

"Keep them." You insisted. "In case this sketchbook falls into a pit or gets waterlogged, I want you to hold onto these. Besides, I can tell you appreciate them a lot. So...consider it a gift."

"Why..thank you." A smile appeared on his face as he took the pages carefully. "Rest assured, they'll be safe and sound." He gazed at them both one more time, feeling a tug on his heart.

But it wasn't as heavy as before.

After neatly folding and stowing them away into his pockets, he saw you already sitting in one of the chairs, your sketchbook opened to a brand new blank page.

"Sooooooo what are you going to draw this time?" He tilted his head, ear fins twitching with curiosity.

"Hm...I did see a vision of a white glowing man a few rooms back. I think he was from...the Mindscape? There was a file talking about him and some floating gears and a white ball."

"Ohh yeah, he's an interesting guy. I'd love to see your interpretation of him." Now Sebastian was 100% invested, as he curled his tail around himself, resting his upper body on it so he could see your book better. "But y'know you won't be able to leave this place with sketches of-"

"I'm well aware of that...I could always change a few things and turn them into OCs."

"Hah. You should."

"Maybe I will." You snickered, grateful that you didn't have anything to fear.

At least somebody in the Blacksite appreciated your art.

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

My Missing Piece

616!Wanda x 199999!Fem!Reader

Summary: You've lost your wife Wanda. Leaving you alone with your twin boys to try and pick up the pieces. What happens when the Scarlet Witch comes looking for her boys?

Word Count: 10.4K

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, R calls W Mommy, W uses pet names, enchanted strap use, Dom!Wanda, sub!reader, overstimulation, magic restraints, depressive thoughts/episodes.

A/N: Made this forever ago and forgot about it until like two days ago lol. I really liked the idea of this so I hope you guys enjoy~ Also I decided that world 199999 (which was the original MCU world number before MoM turned it to 616) is just a parallel world where no one died :)

Every night after tucking my boys, Billy and Tommy in to bed, I have a bit of me time. Sometimes I watch TV, sometimes I'll scroll through social media on my phone, sometimes I'll write because I was told that was supposed to help with grief, it hasn't so far, what helps the most is when I talk to her before bed, "I miss you Wands...our boys miss you too...of course they love their Mama, but you're their Mommy. You carried them for nine months, you were in labor for just over a day." Tommy was born first 12 minutes ahead of his brother Billy. "You gave so much for our boys and our life here and I wish you had never said yes to that mission after all these years..." I break down, quiet sobs wrack me as I curl up on her side of the bed. It still smells like her.

I let sleep take me as I have the same dream I do every night. Wanda, but not Wanda...some twisted version of her with black fingers, and she just seems off, but she's searching, as if she can see me? She's looking for our boys. Every morning just as she finds me, us, I wake up. Dried tears on my cheeks and my eyes red. The bags under my eyes have never been darker, but I cover them up as I get out of bed to start yet another day without my wife.

The alarm blares through the quiet of the room, jolting me awake from my restless slumber. With a heavy sigh, I reach over to silence it, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Another day begins, much like every other since she left us.

I stumble out of bed, the weight of grief still heavy on my shoulders as I move through the motions of the morning routine. It's a struggle to keep it together, but I have to be strong for Billy and Tommy. They need me, even though every fiber of my being aches for her presence.

As I make my way downstairs, the memories flood back, hitting me like a tidal wave. Wanda was always the light in our lives, her laughter echoing through the halls, her warmth enveloping us like a comforting embrace. But now, there's only emptiness.

I try to push the thoughts aside as I prepare breakfast for the boys, forcing a smile as they bound into the kitchen, their youthful energy a stark contrast to my own weariness. They chatter excitedly about school and friends, oblivious to the pain that lingers beneath the surface.

After they've eaten and headed off to catch the bus, I sink into the solitude of the empty house once more. It's in these quiet moments that the ache is most palpable, the absence of her presence a constant reminder of all that we've lost.

I find myself drawn to her belongings, unable to resist the pull of her memory. Running my fingers over the familiar objects, I'm transported back to happier times, when our love felt invincible, untouchable by the darkness that now threatens to consume me.

But amidst the despair, there's a flicker of something else. A determination, a resolve to keep going, if not for myself then for her. She wouldn't want me to wallow in sorrow, to let the grief consume me. She'd want me to live, to cherish the memories we shared and find solace in the love that still remains.

With a deep breath, I push myself to my feet, wiping away the tears that threaten to fall. Today may be another struggle, another battle against the pain, but I refuse to let it defeat me. For Wanda, for our boys, I'll find the strength to carry on, one day at a time.

The day went by quickly and soon enough the boys were home filling up our home with noise once more,

"Boys homework first or no ice cream!" I call from the kitchen when I hear them start to fight over player one controller.

"Awww but Mama!" They whined.

"So you boys don't want ice cream tomorrow night either I see." I hear them grumble and then the TV go off, the sound of the dining room chairs scraping as I look over my shoulder to see they're working. "There are my good boys." I turn back smiling as I carry on with prepping dinner. Suddenly something feels off. A pit in my stomach starts forming and I feel eyes on me, not the boys though these feel predatory.

I look up and through the window I don't see my own reflection, I see Wanda, the same one I see in my dreams.

My heart leaps into my throat as I freeze, the knife in my hand forgotten as I stare wide-eyed at the impossible sight before me. It's her, but it's not. The twisted version from my nightmares, black fingers reaching out like tendrils of darkness, eyes filled with a hunger I can't comprehend.

I feel a chill run down my spine as her gaze locks onto mine, a shiver of fear coursing through my veins. Instinctively, I reach for the pendant hanging around my neck, fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the purple power stone embedded within. It's a comforting weight, a reminder of the power that pulses through me, but even it feels insignificant in the face of this apparition.

"What do you want?" I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper. But she doesn't answer, only continues to stare, her presence suffocating in its intensity.

Desperation claws at the edges of my mind as I struggle to make sense of the situation. Is this some kind of illusion, a trick of the mind brought on by grief and exhaustion? Or is she truly here, some twisted echo of the woman I loved?

Before I can gather my thoughts, a sudden crash from the dining room snaps me back to reality. The boys, my precious boys, oblivious to the danger that lurks just beyond our walls. With a surge of adrenaline, I lunge forward, grabbing the nearest weapon within reach.

But as I turn back to face the window, she's gone, vanished into thin air like a wisp of smoke. The only evidence of her presence is the lingering sense of unease that hangs heavy in the air.

I rush to the dining room, relief flooding through me as I find the boys unharmed, their laughter filling the room once more. But even as I hold them close, a sense of dread lingers, a silent reminder that darkness still lurks just beyond the edges of our reality.

"Mama is everything okay?" Billy asks as I hold them, kissing the top of their heads.

"I just thought one of you got hurt. I'm happy you boys aren't." I lie to them as to not worry them, but Billy looks at me trying to search my thoughts. "Hey no mind reading little man." I ruffle his hair. "Everything is fine. If you boys are finished you can play one game, dinner will be ready in 15 minutes." The minutes tick by slowly as I finish preparing dinner, the aroma of comfort food filling the air. I glance at the clock, realizing that my boys are engrossed in their game, blissfully unaware of the turmoil swirling within me.

With a heavy sigh, I take a moment to compose myself before calling them to the table. As we gather for the meal, laughter and chatter resuming, I try to push the unsettling encounter out of my mind. But deep down, I know it's not over.

As we eat, the boys share stories from their day, their infectious joy momentarily easing the ache in my heart. I force a smile, savoring these small moments of normalcy in our fractured world.

After dinner, as the boys retreat to their rooms for the night, I find myself once again standing by the window, staring into the darkness beyond. The pit in my stomach returns, the unease settling in as I feel a presence lingering just out of sight.

The room is silent, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the night. I close my eyes, summoning the courage to speak the words that linger on the tip of my tongue.

"Wanda, if you're out there, if you can hear me, please... don't hide. I don't know what's happening, but I can't face it alone. I need you, now more than ever." My voice trembles with a mix of desperation and longing.

The air remains still, the response elusive. I wait in silence, hoping for some sign, some reassurance that I'm not losing my mind. But the universe remains silent, withholding its secrets.

"Gods I feel like I'm going crazy Wands...how am I supposed to do this without you?" I feel the hot tears in my eyes, streak down my cheeks then suddenly a loud bang from the living room, the sound of a portal. "Stephan? Is that you?" It wasn't uncommon for Stephan Strange to pop in and check on me and the boys. Stephan had lost his love many years ago. Before I reach the living room, I hear the familiar sound of heels clicking on my hard wood flooring. Suddenly I'm standing face to face with the Wanda I've seen in my dreams...."W-Wands?" I questioned,

"A version. I've lost something precious to me and I've come to get it back." I look her over. It's Wanda, but not mine. As I get closer, Her hair is a different shade, her eyes are a little less of an emerald green and more of a sea green, this Wanda has a scar on her forehead, just above her left eyebrow.

"Oh...what has your universe done to you Detka?" I ask softly reaching out and she grabs my wrist with a force.

"It took everything from me." She seethed. "I want my boys back. I'm taking them." She tosses me aside like I'm nothing. Luckily with the power stone embedded in my chest. I push back, barreling back into her. Tackling her to the ground until I'm on top of her and it's then that she notices my stone, "You have the power stone...how? That's impossible. I've seen it kill people that touch it.

"I'm tough that's why my Wanda loved me." I had her pinned and used my own magic to subdue her. "I've been called the Violet Witch here for years. It became my code name."

"That can't be..." I give her a questioning look. "I'm the Scarlet Witch." She tells me, the scarlet witch? Wanda never said anything...? I stumble back off of her, reeling, "The Scarlet Witch." I let out a dry chuckle, "It makes sense, but I can't let you take my boys. If I loose them then That means I've lost my Wanda and them. I might as well die." I tell her,

"Wait so your Wanda is gone?" She asks. I nod,

"She was needed for a mission. I begged her not to go, we had retired from being Avengers 10 years ago when we found out she was pregnant. She told me everything would be fine. She promised me...and then suddenly I have Strange and Parker on my doorstep with Bucky and Sam behind them carry the casket." I feel my eyes blur as I walk over to the scarlet witch, "If you are another her then," I take her hands putting them up to my temples and ease my forehead onto her, letting my memories over the past ten years flood through her mind.

As our minds intertwine, I feel a rush of memories flooding into her consciousness. The love, the loss, the moments of joy and heartache that have shaped my existence since Wanda's departure. It's a whirlwind of emotions, a bittersweet symphony of love and grief that binds us together in ways I never thought possible.

For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, a glimmer of understanding amidst the chaos of her own turmoil. She sees the depth of my pain, the desperation to hold onto the fragments of a life that's slipping through my fingers.

But as quickly as it came, the moment passes, and she pulls away, her expression hardening once more. "I'm sorry for your loss," she says, her voice tinged with a hint of sympathy. "But my pain is just as real. I've lost everything too, and I'll do whatever it takes to reclaim what's mine."

I feel a pang of empathy for her, a shared sense of anguish that transcends the boundaries of our separate worlds. But beneath it all, there's a primal instinct, a fierce determination to protect my boys at all costs.

"I understand your pain," I reply, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. "But my boys are not yours to take. They belong here, with me, with their family."

She narrows her eyes, her resolve unwavering. "Then we're at an impasse," she says, her tone final. "I won't leave without them."

I take a step forward, meeting her gaze with steely determination. "Then I guess we'll just have to see who's stronger," I say, my voice echoing with a newfound resolve.

With that, the battle lines are drawn, two versions of Wanda Maximoff facing off against each other in a clash of wills and power. But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, one thing remains clear: no matter the outcome, I'll do whatever it takes to protect my boys and honor the memory of the woman I loved.

Her eyes meet mine, a mixture of pain and longing mirrored in their depths. The tear I wiped away lingers on her cheek, a testament to the shared sorrow we both carry. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken emotions, and for a moment, time seems to hang suspended.

"I... I don't know if I can stay," she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. "But the offer, it means more than you can imagine. In my world, everything has crumbled, and I'm left with nothing but ashes and echoes of what once was."

I can feel the weight of her words, the burden of her grief, and I tighten my grip on her cheek, desperate to convey the sincerity of my plea. "Wanda, you don't have to face this alone. You're not just a version of her; you're your own person, with your own pain. But here, in this universe, you have a chance to rebuild, to find a new kind of family."

She opens her eyes, the sea-green gaze locking onto mine. There's a vulnerability in her expression, a crack in the stoic facade she wears. "I'm so tired," she admits, a raw honesty in her voice. "Tired of loss, tired of fighting. Maybe... maybe it's time for a different path."

A tentative smile plays on her lips, and my heart skips a beat. I wipe away another tear, this time a tear of relief. "You don't have to decide now," I say softly. "Take the time you need. But know that here, you have people who care, people who understand loss and are willing to help you carry the burden."

The room seems to brighten, as if the weight of the universe has lifted, if only for a moment. And in that moment, I see a glimmer of hope, a possibility for healing and connection that transcends the boundaries of our fractured worlds.

"I need to know one thing." She speaks, "Is Vision alive?" my brows furrow together.

"Vision? Who is that?" I ask genuinely confused.

"Wait...how did we meet here?" She asks.

"Oh well we met in Sokovia. We were protesting Stark together at a rally. Your brother flirted with me first and I never let him live that down especially when I married you and he was my best man." I smile at the memory. "Anyways, we were approached by Hydra and experimented on. They had the mind stone and the power stone. You and Pietro were exposed to the mind stone and I was too, but nothing happened unlike you two so they put me in a room with the power stone. It decided my chest was it's forever home. I ended up breaking us out from the Hydra base with the help of the Avengers who had caught word of the base. The three of us joined the Avengers and the rest is history." I tell her.

"So no Ultron? Sokovia didn't fly in the air? What about the Sokovia accords?" She throws question after question.

"No idea what you're talking about love. We carried on doing small missions, taking down hydra and radicals, but the three of us spent a long time training before they let us out doing field work." I tell her.

"Three? Is...is Pietro..?" Her voice breaks.

"Alive? Yeah of course." She falls to her knees and starts sobbing.

"Mommy?" Billy is at the middle of the stairs and the look in Wanda's eyes.

"Yeah baby it's Mommy." Wanda opened her arms and the little speedster found his way into her arms." Her eyes spilling over tears.

"Mama said you weren't coming back." Billy whispered.

"Mama didn't think I was, but Mommy always finds a way back to her boys." Wanda pulls back and looks up at me. "I'm staying...how could I say no when this is just about the most perfect version I could ask for?" I smile and start crying again as Tommy joins us before I can even blink. "Our little quick silver." Wanda smiles hugging the boys, her boys.

Tears of relief blur my vision as I watch Wanda embrace our boys, her boys, with a tenderness that speaks volumes. Billy and Tommy cling to her, their small arms wrapping around her tightly as if afraid she'll disappear again if they let go. And in that moment, I realize that this is where she belongs, with us, her family.

I join them on the floor, wrapping my arms around them all, unable to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions that threatens to consume me. "Welcome home, Wanda," I whisper, my voice choked with tears.

She looks up at me, her eyes shining with gratitude and love. "Thank you," she says softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "For everything."

Together, we sit in the warmth of our embrace, a makeshift family forged from the ashes of our shared past. And as the night stretches on, I can't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, a belief that no matter what trials may come, as long as we have each other, we can weather any storm.

========================

The days blurred together in a haze of longing and uncertainty, each moment tinged with the ache of what could have been. Wanda's presence in our home was both a blessing and a curse, a constant reminder of the love I had lost and the impossibility of reclaiming what was once mine.

I watched her interact with the boys, her smile forced but genuine, her laughter a melody that echoed through the halls. And yet, beneath the surface, I could sense the weight of her own grief, the burden of a past that refused to let her go.

I tried to be strong, to be there for her and the boys, but every smile felt like a lie, every laugh a hollow echo of the joy we once shared. And in the darkness of the night, when sleep eluded me and the silence pressed in like a vice, I found myself haunted by memories of another Wanda, a version of her that existed only in my dreams.

She was so close, yet so far away, a phantom presence that taunted me with what could have been. I longed to reach out to her, to hold her close and whisper words of love and comfort. But she was gone, lost to me in a reality that no longer existed.

And so I forced myself out of bed each morning, steeling myself against the pain that threatened to consume me. I buried myself in the routines of daily life, seeking solace in the mundane tasks that kept me tethered to reality.

But no matter how hard I tried to push her memory away, she lingered in the shadows of my mind, a ghostly specter that refused to be forgotten. And as the days turned into weeks, I began to wonder if I would ever find peace, if I would ever be able to let go of the love that still bound me to her, even across the vast expanse of the multiverse.

My Wanda and I had always had a policy of no mind reading since we could both do it, but this Wanda pokes at my thoughts constantly. Reminds me to smile through telepathy. One morning after a really good dream with another Wanda I can't get myself out of bed. Everything is too much. I know I had told her I'd be fine, but I'm not.

"Come on Y/N. Time to get up." I turn away from her, curling up into a ball further. "Y/N? What's wrong?" She asks.

"Nothing just tired. Just tell the boys I don't feel good. I need a Mama's day. So they can have a Mommy day. Take them out, get them ice cream. Do whatever you want." I grumble.

"Okay..." I close my eyes, letting myself drift back off just needed to see her again.

I don't know how much time has past when I'm being woken up, "Detka...come on wake up." My eyes blink into focus as I look at Wanda sitting above me and smile, forgetting my reality for a moment before my smile drops.

"What?" I ask.

"I dropped the boys off with their uncle for the weekend." I sit up straight,

"You did what!?" I screech.

"I left them with Pietro for the weekend. He was more than happy to have a boys weekend. Something about taking them to the lake?" Wanda mentions.

"He takes them every summer, usually it's a family thing and we all go." I tell Wanda.

"Well I figured you needed a Mommy and me weekend. I want to take you out. I want to get to know you. I already know my boys, but you. You're different, new, you aren't like Vision. You're human." She cups my cheek, smiling and I know it's a genuine smile. "I'm sure you've been feeling neglected and I wanted to try and do this sooner, but the boys were too excited to have me back." She says as I lean into her touch, Gods how I missed her touch. Though her fingers were no longer black her nails seemed to permanently stay black which made me laugh as I compared it to her emo phase which apparently this Wanda had one too.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice catching in my throat. "For understanding."

She smiles, a warmth in her eyes that belies the weight of her own pain. "We're in this together. You don't have to carry the burden alone."

With her words echoing in my mind, I find the strength to push myself out of bed, to face the day with renewed determination. Wanda's offer of a Mommy and me weekend is a lifeline, a chance to rediscover myself amidst the chaos of grief and longing.

As we spend the day together, exploring the city and sharing stories of our pasts, I feel a sense of peace settle over me, a reassurance that maybe, just maybe, there's still hope for a future filled with love and laughter.

And as the sun sets on our day together, I realize that while Wanda may not be my Wanda, she's still a beacon of light in the darkness, a reminder that even in our darkest moments, there's always someone willing to stand by our side, to offer a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on.

With her by my side, I know that no matter what the future may hold, I'll never have to face it alone. And as we head home, the weight of grief feels a little lighter, the shadows a little less daunting, as we embrace the possibility of a new beginning, together.

When we got back home, I pulled her to the couch, "Time to watch sitcoms." I tell her and her face lights up.

"Dick Van Dyke?" She asks.

"No Detka. I want to show you my favorite this time. It's a more modern one. It's an animated sitcom though is that okay?" I ask, realizing this Wanda maybe never experienced animated and only enjoyed live action ones.

"Of course dorogoya." Her accent popping out sent a wave through me that landed between my legs.

"O-okay good." I say and get 'Bob's Burgers' playing. As the show starts I settle in with a slight distance between us, but she pulls me in against her side.

"Is this okay dorogoya?" She asks looking down at me.

"Y-yeah...of course." I move slight, readjusting to get comfortable as we fit together like two missing puzzle pieces and I let out a sigh of relief, that feels like so much weight is taken off my shoulders.

As the episodes of "Bob's Burgers" played on, I found myself relaxing into Wanda's embrace, the tension that had been coiled tight within me slowly unraveling with each passing moment. Her warmth seeped into my bones, a comforting presence that chased away the lingering shadows of doubt and fear.

With her by my side, the laughter that bubbled up from the screen felt genuine, a reflection of the newfound camaraderie we shared. And as I stole glances at her profile, illuminated by the soft glow of the television, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment, the simplicity of just being together.

Her laughter mingled with mine, the sound music to my ears, a symphony of joy that filled the room with warmth and light. And as the credits rolled on the final episode, I turned to her, a smile playing at the corners of my lips.

"Thank you," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "For today. For everything."

She returned my smile, her eyes shimmering with affection. "Anytime. I'm here for you, always."

I sat there staring at her, getting lost in her eyes so much that I don't even realize that she's leaning in until she's inches from my lips, she stops and I can feel her breath on me, my own hitching,

"Is this okay dorogoya?" She whispers in a husk against my lips.

"Y-yes." I manage out as she kisses me softly at first, testing the waters, but soon enough she's kissing hungrily, like she's starving for my taste now that's she's had a nibble. My fingers find their way into her hair, getting tangled in her auburn locks. One of her hands is on the back of my neck and the other is on my hip, gripping tightly, I can feel her nails digging in.

The world falls away as our lips meet in a fiery embrace, a collision of passion and longing that ignites every nerve ending in my body. Her kiss is intoxicating, a whirlwind of desire and need that sweeps me away in a tide of sensation.

I lose myself in the taste of her, the feel of her lips moving against mine with a hunger that mirrors my own. Our breath mingles in the space between us, hot and heavy with unspoken desire, as the intensity of our embrace grows with each passing moment.

Her hands are everywhere at once, trailing fire along my skin as she pulls me closer, her touch igniting a wildfire of sensation within me. I cling to her desperately, losing myself in the dizzying whirl of pleasure that consumes us both.

Time loses all meaning as we surrender to the passion that binds us together, lost in a world of our own making where nothing else matters but the fiery connection that burns between us.

And as we finally break apart, breathless and trembling, I find myself drowning in the depths of her gaze, a silent promise of more to come lingering in the air between us.

In that moment, I know that this is just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, passion, and endless possibility. And as we cling to each other in the aftermath of our shared passion, I can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected twist of fate that brought us together.

"Bed. Now." Her eyes lit up red for a moment. My Wanda had never been dominate, but this Wanda before me exuded dominance. I didn't waste any time getting up the stairs with her hot on my tail as we crashed into the bedroom, stumbling to the bed in a heat of kisses as she took the leading role.

The air crackled with electricity as we stumbled into the bedroom, our lips locked in a frenzy of passion and desire. Wanda's presence was intoxicating, her aura radiating power and dominance in a way I had never experienced before. And as she took the lead, pushing me onto the bed with a hunger that sent shivers down my spine, I felt myself surrendering to the raw intensity of the moment.

Her kisses were demanding, igniting a fire within me that burned hotter with each passing second. I moaned against her lips, my fingers tangling in her hair as I lost myself in the heat of the moment. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body as she explored every inch of my skin with a hunger that left me breathless.

With each caress, each whispered word of desire, I felt myself falling deeper under her spell, my body responding eagerly to her every touch. And as she claimed me as her own, I surrendered to the overwhelming tide of sensation, losing myself in the ecstasy of our shared passion.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of pleasure and desire where nothing else mattered but the intoxicating connection that bound us together. And as we moved as one, bodies entwined in a symphony of passion, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, lust, and endless possibility.

The sensation of relinquishing control, of surrendering completely to someone else's will, was both exhilarating and liberating. As I basked in the warmth of Wanda's dominance, I found myself embracing a side of myself that I had long suppressed, a side that craved the thrill of submission and surrender.

With each touch, each whispered command, I felt myself sinking deeper into the abyss of pleasure, my mind consumed by a haze of ecstasy that left me breathless and yearning for more. And as Wanda took the lead, guiding me with a firm yet gentle hand, I found myself surrendering to the overwhelming tide of sensation, losing myself in the intoxicating dance of pleasure and desire.

In her arms, I felt safe, cherished, and utterly alive, my body responding eagerly to her every touch and caress. And as we moved together in a symphony of passion and desire, I embraced the freedom that came with letting go, allowing myself to be swept away by the currents of our shared passion.

For in that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful surrender where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our connection. And as we surrendered to the ecstasy of our shared desire, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with exploration, discovery, and boundless pleasure.

"Ah...Wands..." A smack hit my thigh making me jolt and yelp.

"That's not my name Detka." I feel my stomach flip. I call her this all the time. I have for years now, but never in this setting. Another smack and then her teeth find my skin, biting and sucking harshly, marking me.

"Mommy!" I can feel the smirk against my thigh.

"Good girl. Go on. Show me how needy you are baby girl." Her fingers find themselves between my folds as I move my hips against them.

The sensation of her touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through me, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. I arched my back, pressing against her fingers as they explored the depths of my desire, teasing and tantalizing with a skill that left me trembling with need.

"Please," I whimpered, the word spilling from my lips in a desperate plea for more. Her touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my body as she pushed me to the brink of ecstasy.

With each caress, each stroke, I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the intensity of our shared passion. And as she whispered words of encouragement, urging me to let go and surrender to the pleasure that awaited, I felt myself surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our connection. And as I succumbed to the ecstasy of our shared desire, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with passion, intensity, and boundless pleasure.

The sensation of Wanda's magic enveloping my wrists sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through me, a tangible reminder of her power and dominance. I tested the restraints, feeling the firm hold of her magic as it kept me securely in place, my heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and arousal.

"Safe word. Green, yellow, red. Green is keep going, yellow slow down, red is stop." Wanda husked.

"Green, yellow, red," I echoed, committing the safe words to memory as a reassurance of our mutual trust and consent. With each breath, each whispered command, I felt myself sinking deeper into the heady haze of pleasure, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation.

As Wanda continued to explore my body with a skillful touch that left me trembling with need, I surrendered myself to the ecstasy of our shared desire, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive.

And as the intensity of our passion grew with each passing moment, I found myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our connection. In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire.

I don't think there is a place she hasn't marked on me in some way and after hours of edging until I couldn't form sentences she finally let me release. A string of moans ripping through me as the most intense waves roll over me as I drown in them, covered in sweat and her marks.

As the waves of pleasure washed over me, leaving me trembling and spent, I basked in the afterglow of our shared passion, my body still tingling with the echoes of our ecstasy. But just when I thought the intensity had peaked, I felt something pressing against my entrance, a sensation that sent a jolt of anticipation coursing through me.

I gasped, my body instinctively tensing as Wanda's touch ignited a new wave of desire within me. Her fingers teased and tantalized, exploring the depths of my desire with a skill that left me breathless and eager for more.

With each gentle thrust, I felt myself opening up to her, surrendering completely to the overwhelming tide of sensation. The pleasure was exquisite, a symphony of ecstasy that echoed through every fiber of my being as I lost myself in the blissful abandon of our shared desire.

And as Wanda continued to guide me with a firm yet gentle hand, I surrendered myself to the pleasure of our connection, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive. In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire.

Wanda soon enough needed more and so did I, "Faster...ha-ah...harder..." My breath hot against her, panting like a dog and that gave her the perfect opportunity to place her fingers in my mouth, gaging me with them, but I loved every second as I sucked on them, moaning against them as I tasted myself on them from earlier.

The sensation of Wanda's fingers in my mouth sent a thrill of arousal coursing through me, a heady mixture of pleasure and desire that left me panting and eager for more. With each thrust, each gasp of pleasure, I eagerly sucked on her fingers, tasting myself on them from earlier.

The taste was intoxicating, a symphony of desire that heightened the intensity of our connection as we moved together in perfect harmony. And as Wanda responded to my pleas with a fervor that mirrored my own, I surrendered myself to the pleasure of our shared desire, knowing that in her arms, I was safe, cherished, and utterly alive.

With each thrust, I felt myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of our passion. And as we reached the peak of ecstasy together, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey, a journey filled with passion, intensity, and boundless pleasure.

In that moment, there was only her, only us, lost in a world of blissful abandon where nothing else mattered but the exquisite pleasure of our shared desire. And as we surrendered ourselves to the ecstasy of our connection, I knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together, a journey filled with love, lust, and endless possibility.

As I slowly regained my senses, the cool towel on the back of my neck and Wanda's comforting presence helped anchor me in reality. Her magic gently caressed my mind, offering reassurance and care as I took in the aftermath of our intense encounter.

"Easy, Detka. You're okay," she murmured, and I found solace in the warmth of her embrace. I took the offered water bottle, sipping slowly as she continued to tend to my well-being. The realization that I had passed out from pleasure left me both surprised and amused.

"Thats never happened before," I admitted with a chuckle. "The other Wanda was more of a sub, so I was usually the one in control. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but being on the receiving end is a whole different experience."

Wanda's magic fetched a baggy shirt, and as I recognized it, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. It was a shirt from a concert we attended when we were sixteen, a tangible link to our shared past.

"It's good to know not everything is different," I remarked, smiling as she kissed my temple.

In the warmth of our makeshift cocoon, surrounded by blankets and pillows, Wanda's magic weaving a protective barrier around us, we continued to watch 'Bob's Burgers.' However, my focus was no longer on the show; instead, I found myself captivated by the woman holding me close.

A sudden wave of fear and doubt crashed over me as I wondered if this intimate encounter was just a one-time gesture to alleviate my grief. The fear of being tossed aside after a momentary respite haunted my thoughts, threatening to overshadow the joy we had just shared.

Wanda, sensing my internal struggle, gently addressed my concerns. "Hey, woah, Detka. Those thoughts of yours are the farthest thing from the truth. Do not listen to them. I would never do that to my soulmate," she reassured me, her forehead finding mine in a tender gesture of connection.

"I love you, Y/N," she confessed, her words washing away my fears and opening the floodgates to a cascade of happy tears. "I love you, Wands! I didn't think I'd ever get to hear you say those words to me again," I admitted, clinging to her shirt as I sobbed into her.

Wanda's promises echoed in my heart, a vow to cherish and reaffirm our love every day. She kissed away my tears, each tender touch a testament to the depth of her commitment. "I promise I'm going to say it every chance I get. I'm never going to stop. I'm going to remind you every day how beautiful you are and how much I love you, and I promise I'm never going to leave. No missions. Nothing like that. I'll always be by your side," she declared, her own tears mingling with mine.

In that moment, as we drowned in each other's love, I knew that this second chance at happiness was a gift we would both cherish. And as Wanda whispered, "I love you," over and over, I felt the weight of my grief lifting, replaced by the warmth of a love that transcended time and space.

========

In the midst of my peaceful dream, I found myself enveloped in a sense of tranquility unlike any I had experienced in well over a year. Waking up with a smile on my face I turn my head, looking over I gazed upon the sleeping form of Wanda, her features softened by the gentle embrace of slumber, I felt a rush of overwhelming love and affection welling up within me.

With a playful smile tugging at the corners of my lips, I leaned in closer, pressing gentle kisses along the curve of her neck. Each tender touch elicited a soft moan from her lips, a melody of pleasure that echoed through the stillness of the night.

Lost in the intoxicating embrace of our shared intimacy, I continued to shower her with affection, reveling in the warmth of her presence and the depth of our connection. And as I whispered her name, a soft murmur of adoration, I knew that this moment, this fleeting glimpse of happiness, was a treasure to be cherished for all eternity.

As Wanda began to stir awake, her voice still heavy with sleep, I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for her. Her words, though tinged with a hint of warning, only served to deepen the bond between us.

"You're playing a dangerous game, kotenok," she murmured, her voice laced with sleepiness.

"Shchenok," I corrected gently, a small smile playing on my lips.

Her eyes snapped open at the correction, surprise evident in her expression. "When did you learn that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

I shrugged, the memories of our shared past flooding back to me. "I was with her for like 20 years of our lives. I learned most Russian. Also Natasha, she..." My voice trailed off as Wanda's expression shifted, a wave of sadness washing over her.

"Oh my god, I forgot about Natasha. Is... is she alive here?" she asked, tears welling up in her eyes.

I nodded solemnly, feeling a pang of empathy for the pain she must be feeling. Crawling into her lap, I wrapped my arms around her, offering what comfort I could. "You really lost a lot there, dorogoya," I whispered, my voice soft with compassion. "But don't worry, everyone here is safe. We've apparently had it relatively easy here, it seems."

I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, my heart overflowing with love and gratitude for this woman who had endured so much. "Now you have your loved ones back. You aren't alone anymore, and you won't ever be again. I promise."

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As the weekend unfolded, Wanda and I remained entwined in each other's arms, our connection deepening with each passing moment. When the boys returned home with their uncle Pietro, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and affection, a tangible sense of family that enveloped us all.

Pietro's hug was tight, filled with an unspoken understanding that transcended words. In his whispered question, "Did you guys finally connect?" I detected a mixture of curiosity and genuine concern.

With a small nod and a soft "Mmhmm," I confirmed what he already knew. This Wanda wasn't his real sister, just as she wasn't the Wanda I had known and loved for decades. But she was here, she was special, and in her embrace, I found a sense of solace and belonging that I had thought lost forever.

==============

As the following Friday arrived, Wanda and I made the decision to gather our friends and family together to share the details of our new lives. It was a momentous occasion, filled with a mix of anticipation and apprehension as we prepared to unveil the truth about our extraordinary circumstances.

Gathering our loved ones in a familiar setting, we began to recount the events that had led us to this moment, explaining the complexities of our intertwined destinies and the newfound connections we had forged. With each word, we sought to convey the depth of our emotions, the challenges we had overcome, and the hope that now burned bright within our hearts.

As our gathering unfolded, the emotions in the room were palpable, each hug and embrace a testament to the depth of our shared experiences and the bonds that bound us together.

Wanda's first instinct was to embrace Natasha tightly, their bodies trembling with sobs as they clung to each other. For both of them, it was a moment of overwhelming relief and joy, the realization that they had been given a second chance to be reunited with someone they had feared lost forever.

Next was Clint, the stalwart friend and ally who had saved Wanda countless times in her timeline, offering comfort and support when she needed it most. As they embraced, the weight of their shared history hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the trials they had faced and the strength they had found in each other's presence.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and family who had become like kin, Wanda and I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the bonds that had been forged through adversity. And as we shared stories and memories, laughter mingling with tears, we knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, drawing strength from the love and support that surrounded us.

As our friends and family listened intently, their expressions shifting from surprise to understanding, we felt a sense of relief wash over us. To have our loved ones by our side, supporting us through this journey, was a gift beyond measure.

And as we concluded our explanation, surrounded by the warmth and love of those closest to us, we knew that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, united in our shared bond and unwavering commitment to one another.

As the night wore on and the festivities continued, Stephen pulled me aside, his expression grave with concern. "You know what she's done in her universe, right?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

I bristled at his question, feeling a surge of defensiveness rise within me. "Do not start this, Strange," I warned, jabbing a finger in his direction. "If I had gone through what she had, this universe wouldn't even exist. What she did, in my eyes, is child's play compared to the horrors she endured."

My words carried a weight of conviction, a steadfast belief in Wanda's resilience and the sacrifices she had made to protect those she loved. And as I met Stephen's gaze, I saw a flicker of understanding in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the depth of Wanda's strength and the magnitude of her courage.

"She threw a tantrum essentially. Took over a town for a bit and then went on a killing spree to get here. I saw it through her eyes. I know if it had been me, you'd be lucky if America had still been standing," I asserted, a hint of steel in my voice as I tapped the power stone embedded in my chest.

The reminder of the immense power at my disposal served as both a warning and a declaration. Wanda's actions in her universe were a testament to the depths of her grief and the consequences of unchecked power. In contrast, I recognized the responsibility that came with wielding such force, a responsibility I vowed to use wisely to protect those I loved.

As the weight of our conversation lingered, Stephen nodded in acknowledgment, a silent understanding passing between us. The night continued, but the specter of the past and the potential for the future hung in the air, a reminder that even in moments of celebration, the shadows of our pasts were never truly far behind.

"I don't think you understand, my strength isn't superhuman, it's otherworldly. The precision it requires to ensure I don't break everything around me at any given moment is a delicate balance. With one punch, I wouldn't just put a crater in the earth, I'd break it in half," I emphasized, underscoring the magnitude of the power I possessed.

The distinction between superhuman strength and the cosmic force I wielded was crucial to grasp. While others might possess extraordinary abilities, mine was on a different scale altogether, capable of reshaping the very fabric of reality itself. It was a responsibility that weighed heavily on me, requiring a level of control and restraint beyond what most could comprehend.

As I spoke, I could sense the gravity of my words sinking in, the realization dawning on Stephen of the immense power at my command. It was a sobering reminder of the delicate balance between strength and responsibility, a balance that I vowed to uphold no matter the cost.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I just wanted to remind you-" Stephen began, but I swiftly cut him off, my tone firm yet understanding. "Don't, Stephen. I know you're just trying to help. I don't need the reminder though," I assured him, acknowledging his concern while asserting my own understanding of the situation.

With a nod of acceptance, Stephen backed off, respecting my boundaries and allowing me to return to the comforting embrace of Wanda, who had been engaged in conversation with Natasha and Clint. As I settled back into her arms, the warmth of her presence enveloped me, a reassuring reminder of the love and support that surrounded me.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and family, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, a quiet reassurance that no matter the challenges we faced, we would face them together, united in our shared bonds and unwavering commitment to one another.

As Wanda continued her conversation with Natasha and Clint, her fingers traced delicate patterns on my hip, their touch a gentle caress that spoke volumes of the journey she had undertaken. Once stained with blood, those same hands now exuded a tenderness and compassion that belied the darkness of the past.

Feeling the soothing rhythm of her touch, I couldn't help but marvel at the transformation Wanda had undergone, the evolution from a place of pain and turmoil to one of healing and redemption. It was a testament to her resilience and strength, a reminder that even in the face of adversity, it was possible to find light amidst the shadows.

In that moment, as her touch danced across my skin, I felt a profound sense of gratitude for the woman before me, for the love and forgiveness she had extended, and for the hope that now blossomed within our hearts. And as our conversation continued, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, bound by the unbreakable bond of love and understanding that had brought us to this moment.

As the room suddenly filled with the energetic presence of our children, along with Clint's youngest and Kate close behind, my boys bounded into mine and Wanda's arms with cries for help. "Moms! Save us from the monster!" they pleaded, their laughter filling the air.

I chuckled as I gathered them close, feeling their warmth and energy envelop me in a comforting embrace. Glancing over, I caught sight of Kate playfully tickling Nathaniel, the mischievous grin on her face confirming my suspicions.

With a smile, I joined Wanda in rescuing our boys from the clutches of the imaginary monster, enveloping them in hugs and laughter as we reveled in the joy of family and friendship. In that moment, surrounded by the ones we loved most, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the blessings that filled our lives, each smile and laugh a reminder of the happiness that awaited us in the days to come.

As the boys began to drift off to sleep in my arms, I couldn't help but smile at the sight. "I think it's time to go, my love," I murmured to Wanda, gesturing towards our sleeping sons. Despite their ten years, I scooped them up effortlessly, their weight feeling light in my arms.

A momentary look of surprise flickered across Wanda's face, her gaze lingering on me as she seemed to momentarily forget about my strength. At just 4'11, I was indeed petite for someone with such power, a fact that often caught others off guard.

With a soft chuckle, I gently adjusted the boys in my arms, their peaceful expressions a testament to the love and security they felt in our embrace. As we prepared to leave, I felt a surge of gratitude for the family we had become, bound together by love and the unbreakable bond of kinship. With Wanda by my side, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our shared love and determination to protect those we held dear.

As I glanced over at Wanda, watching the tender expression on her face as she looked upon our sleeping sons, my heart swelled with love and gratitude. The depth of emotion reflected in her eyes filled me with a sense of warmth and contentment, knowing that our family was complete and our bond unbreakable.

In that moment, as we stood together, surrounded by the quiet stillness of the night, I felt a profound sense of peace wash over me. The love that radiated between us and enveloped our children was a testament to the strength of our connection, a bond forged in the fires of adversity and tempered by the trials we had faced together.

As we prepared to depart, I reached out to take Wanda's hand, intertwining our fingers in a silent gesture of unity and love. With a shared smile, we turned and made our way home, our hearts full and our spirits lifted by the knowledge that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, as a family.

===========

Wanda and I are on the couch when she asks, "Do you have photo albums of the boys?" I look at her, peeling my eyes from the TV as I pause it.

"Of course." I get up grabbing several albums of almost everything of their lives. "After we left the Avengers I took solace in capturing moments so we have a lot." I tell her as she starts through her pregnancy photos one of every month. Then the hospital photos of her giving birth. The look of pure happiness and bliss on both our faces as we held the boys. Both of us having skin to skin contact with them. As Wanda goes through the albums she starts crying.

"I missed out on so much because of my magic..." she whispered solemnly. "They went from babies, to 5, to 10 all because of words I said...Y/N...I missed everything." Knowing that Wanda had used her magic to create our boys in her universe and not anything like how we had here made her incredibly sad. I hate seeing her like this.

"How about I show you. Their first words, their first steps, everything." With a gentle touch, I leaned in closer to her, resting my forehead against hers as I offered her a silent gesture of comfort and solidarity. Feeling her fingers against my temples, I closed my eyes and allowed the memories to flow, every precious moment from the joyous announcement of her pregnancy to the bittersweet final days we shared together playing out before her.

As the memories unfolded like a vivid tapestry, I watched as Wanda's tears began to subside, replaced by a sense of wonder and awe. Through the magic of our shared recollections, she was able to witness the milestones she had missed, the laughter and love that had filled our home in her absence.

In that moment, as we shared in the memories of our past, I felt a renewed sense of hope blossom within me. Though Wanda may have missed out on so much, I was determined to make every moment from this point forward count, to cherish the time we had together and to create new memories that would fill the void left by the past.

With a gentle smile, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as we basked in the warmth of our shared love. And as the echoes of our memories faded into the night, I knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our unwavering commitment to one another and to our family.

As I looked into Wanda's eyes, feeling the weight of her sadness and longing, I knew that I had to do everything in my power to ease her pain and make up for the lost time. With a gentle touch, I cupped her cheek in my hand, my thumb brushing away the tears that lingered there.

"Everything with them feels too quick and also a lifetime," I whispered softly, my heart swelling with love and determination. "But now that you're here with us, you'll get to experience it all with me. Together."

In that moment, as we shared in our shared resolve to embrace the present and forge ahead as a family, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. No matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together, united in our love and commitment to one another.

With a tender smile, I leaned in to press a gentle kiss against Wanda's forehead, silently promising to cherish every moment we shared and to make up for the lost time in any way I could. Together, we would build a future filled with love, laughter, and endless memories, united in our bond as a family.

Once we put the albums away, shut the TV off for the night we headed upstairs. Stopping to look in at the boys sleeping peacefully before heading to our own room, getting ourselves ready for bed. As I climb in, stretching out, Wanda climbs on top of me. I bite my bottom lip, looking up at her. I can see the look she has. I wrap my arms around her neck, gently trying to pull her down. She doesn't budge.

"Did you want something, shchenok?" Between the look in her eyes, the sound of her voice, and her in just a tank top of sleep shorts I'm weak to her completely under her not just physically.

"Want you. Need you." I tell her trying again to pull and when she still doesn't budge. I pout and whine. "Wands...please.."

As Wanda's hands worked their magic, binding mine above my head with a delicate yet firm touch, I felt a rush of excitement and anticipation coursing through me. With each tug of her magic, I was rendered powerless, completely at her mercy as she explored my body with a hunger that ignited a fire within me.

"Behave and we'll see where it goes," she husked, her words sending shivers down my spine as she pushed up my shirt, her lips finding purchase on my chest with an intensity that left me breathless. The sensation of her teeth grazing my skin, her tongue tracing patterns across my flesh, sent waves of pleasure radiating through me, making me squirm and writhe beneath her touch.

As I felt myself slipping deeper into subspace, surrendering to the heady mix of pleasure and vulnerability, I couldn't help but lose myself in the moment, giving in completely to the sensations that engulfed me. With each kiss, each caress, I felt myself unraveling, consumed by the overwhelming desire that burned between us.

In that moment, as I surrendered myself to Wanda's tender ministrations, I felt a profound sense of connection and intimacy that transcended the physical realm. With her by my side, I knew that I was safe, cherished, and loved beyond measure, and as I surrendered to the ecstasy of the moment, I knew that our bond would only grow stronger with each passing day.

Wanda plays with me and teases me for hours and I can't even remember how many times she's pushed me over the edge of ecstasy. As she brought me to another one as she slammed into me with a magic strap-on she'd conjured up, my mind already drowning in subspace, barely able to form words, but one slips out and then a few more,

"Mommy...gonna...ah-ha...ah..." After my words she sped up leaning down to whisper in my ear,

"That's right cum for Mommy like a good girl. Mommy's gonna cum with you. Gonna fill you up and breed you baby girl." As she whispered those final words in my ear, her voice a husky growl of lust and desire, I felt myself shattering into a million pieces, my entire being consumed by the ecstasy of release. With a cry of pure ecstasy, I let myself fall over the edge, my body trembling with the force of my climax as I surrendered myself entirely to the pleasure that engulfed me. Feeling her fill me up completely made my eyes roll back and the only word I could comprehend was, “Mommy.”

In that moment, as I basked in the afterglow of our shared ecstasy, I knew that I was exactly where I belonged, wrapped in the arms of the woman I loved more than anything in the world.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

[orionremastered]

I really love the 911 texting post with the batboys! Quite accurate imo, lol.

If it's possible, may I request how the batboys react to their gf being pouty and touchy with them cuz they've been away for a long time for a big mission?

Thank you! Tho tbh damian would get more than ten assassins. like twenty minimum

Masterlist

Batboys Returning from a Long Mission

Dick Grayson

"You're back!"

Dick's tired eyes take in the apartment. It's clean— cleaner than it's ever been— and there's practically a feast on the kitchen counter.

You fling your arms around him, smiling into his chest. Slowly, he wraps his arms around you, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo. "Missed you," he murmurs.

You squeeze him tighter and he winces in pain, letting out a hiss. Your head immediately snaps up and your boyfriend sighs. "I got stabbed— but it's not that bad, I promise— and had to get it stitched some. Relax."

Still, you frown and lift up his shirt, inspecting the stitches on his side.

"See? Fine."

"It doesn't look fine."

"Right... anyway, did you cook something? I'm starving."

You look back into his eyes and nod repeatedly, your own eyes sparkling.

Jason Todd

A soft thud sounds from behind you before arms wrap around your waist. "Hey," he whispers into your ear before kissing you on the cheek. "What're you doing?"

He's climbed through the window. Again.

"I'm about to go to work," you reply, twisting in his hold to return the embrace. "But I'll call in sick and spend today with you."

Jason pulls back and frowns. "No, you should go to work."

"But you just got back!"

"I can wait." Something in his eyes told you he really couldn't, but he wasn't going to say that.

You huff and begin dragging him to the couch. He complies with a sigh, lying down on the cushions and wrapping his arms around you when you lay on top of him.

"I missed you," you tell him.

"I missed you too."

Tim Drake

You wake up to Tim having draped himself on top of you during the night, his hand resting on your cheek. You pull him impossibly closer and he stirs, eyes opening to watch you with a questioning look.

"When did you get back?"

The sunlight streams through the curtains, bathing his face in a golden glow. A smile cracks onto his face before he buries it into your neck with a groan. "Late," is all he says, a chuckle in his tone.

"You should get some more sleep," you chide, running a hand through his dark hair.

"But—"

"I can make you breakfast or lunch for when you wake up again but you need rest," your tone leaves no room for argument, yet he scowls before putting his face back in the crook of your neck.

"Stay?"

"...okay, I'll stay."

Damian Wayne

There's nothing that made you smile more than seeing him again. And directly after you made him breakfast and let him rest, you dragged him out to a restaurant for lunch.

"I would've been happy with just eating at home," he tells you, holding your hand as you walk back to your apartment.

"But I wanted to do something nice for you," you pout. "And then you had to pay."

"I would've never let you pay in a million years," Damian says, face scrunching in disgust and the thought. "So it was me saying sorry for being gone so long."

You smile and lean into his side. "I'm just glad you're back."

He lets go of your hand and wraps it around your shoulders. "I'm glad to be back."

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Be a good girl~

Disclaimer: Contains Daddy kink, Dom Uzui, Sub reader, Rough sex, some humiliation, degradation, size kink, brat taming, spanking, a bit of breeding kink

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

Uzui didn't know how to explain it, but he's been craving for a bratty submissive to fulfill his desires. Suma, Makio and Hinatsuru were incredible women and he loved them with all his heart, but they weren't interested in being submissive in the bedroom, nor were they fans of rough, kinky sex and Uzui would never ask them to do anything they weren't comfortable with.

But his desire to fold a cutie underneath him and pound her till she was a crying, sobbing, blubbering mess- her ass red from his spankings, makeup running down her face as she begged Uzui to not force more orgasms onto her overstimulated body- wasn't something he could hide. So the four of them came to an agreement. His wives gave him permission to find someone who might scratch that itch for him, who'd be the submissive he needed. And the very day they had that conversation, Uzui met you. A couple of ranks below the Hashira but climbing the ladder pretty quickly, you were a formidable warrior oozing with talent and strength. You were one of the better fights in the corporation and he knew it was only a matter of time before you became a pillar. You were tasked with assisting him on a new mission to track down a dangerous demon. What was supposed to last till sundown was completed within a few hours, you and Uzui making a fantastic team. You tracked down the demon, avoided its traps and tricks and along with Uzui, the two of you cut off it's head. With time to spare and not having any other missions to finish, the two of you took refuge in the Wisteria inn.

After a nice soak at the hot springs, the two of you met up in your room to share some food and drinks. Cups clinked together as you both drank some nice sake, Uzui having convinced you to relax around him for tonight and to just enjoy yourself. Both of you dressed in soft, comfortable yukata's, the vibe quickly turned friendly as the alcohol allowed you to loosed up a bit around him.

"So, are you in a relationship with anyone?" Uzui asked you. "If I was, I wouldn't be in a room with you alone." you retorted. Uzui raised an eyebrow, "I have three wives you know and i'm in this room with you alone." "Oh yeah!" you said, having genuinely forgotten, feeling guilty for some reason, "I shall leave then. This might be seen as inappropriate-"

"Sit back down." Uzui ordered the second he saw you make a move to leave, smiling when you obeyed him, "My wives wouldn't mind. In fact, they've given me permission to pursue a fourth partner if I wanted to. So don't overthink it."

"Oh..." you said, not knowing what to make of that, "If you say so." Your heart skipped a beat over that news. You weren't blind to how ridiculously attractive Uzui was, the man a walking embodiment of sexy. He looked so good in his uniform but here, with his hair let down and wearing a loose Yukata, you had to avert your eyes more than once from his chest.

"So, assuming you had a partner, why did things end?"

"Huh? oh- uh- it's kind of embarrassing..."

"Hmm? Do tell~" Uzui said with a smirk, leaning back on an arm as he nestled his cup of sake in his hand, "I enjoy some gossip."

"Well, he..uh...he was kind of lousy in bed."

"Oh?"

"Yeah- like really bad. I don't think he made me satisfied even once."

"Oh, you poor thing." Uzui cooed as he took a sip, "That sounds frustrating."

"It was." You said with a nod, "Honestly, all the guys I've dated have been the same. And judging from the stories my other friends have told me, they face the same problem. Men just don't know how to please women."

"Well, I don't know what type of guys you've slept with," Uzui said with a smirk, "But I'm happy to say I do not lack in that department. You can't keep three wives without doing a satisfactory job."

"Hah! Yeah right." you said with a laugh, dismissing his brag, "I bet they're faking. Most men fail to satisfy one woman, let alone three."

"Perhaps. But I'm not most men." Uzui said, a twinge of annoyance in his voice over your bratty attitude, "with my stamina, it takes all three of them to drain my balls completely."

You hiccuped at his vulgar words, quickly gathering yourself before he could notice. Perhaps it was the alcohol that was making your bratty side come out, or maybe it was because of how comfortable you were around Uzui now, but either way, you couldn't control your tongue.

"Just because you have big muscles doesn't mean you have a big cock. And even if you do, I bet you don't know how to use it!"

"Oh yeah? And how are you so sure?" Uzui asked, "Pretty little thing like you- you wouldn't be able to last five minutes if I speared you on my dick."

"I bet I could handle you!" You said, hands on your hips, leveling Uzui with a glare.

"Really?" Uzui asked, a twinkle in his eye as he looked you up and down, heart skipping at the idea that he might have found someone to play with already, "You sound confident."

"I am." you said, puffing your chest out, an action Uzui enjoyed ogling at, "I bet I can rock your world and not even break a sweat! and I'd bet you'd not make me cum even once." Uzui laughed, a giant smile on his face before he patted his lap, legs crossed and inviting, "Come and prove it then."

"Wait- really?" you asked, not expecting that response. You were just teasing, hoping to annoy him a bit but- "Sure. Unless, you didn't mean it. Chickening out already?" the Hashira asked.

With a huff, your pride refusing to take a hit, you crawled over to Uzui and sat on his lap, your Yukata bunching a bit around your thighs as you straddled him.

"Feel that?" he asked, hands having a tight grip on your hips as he made you grind down against him. You bit down a squeal as you felt his hardness press against your core, gulping as you could tell how big he was even through the layer of clothing. You tried to keep level-headed, but Uzui could see right through your poor attempts.

"And you know what?" he asked, hands sliding from your hips to your ass, the man taking greedy handfuls of your pump skin as he groped you, making you gasp, "I'm only half hard~"

"L-Liar!" You said, unable to bite your tongue from responding. He already felt so big against you- and he was only halfway there?! Uzui laughed, before saying:

"Yeah? Why don't you check?" the man asked, quickly untying the sash around his Yukata before leaning back a bit on his arms, a look in his eyes that clearly meant he was challenging you. You gulped as the fabric started to move aside, giving you a generous peek of his sculpted torso. A big, wide body with washboard abs and big pecs, you had to stop yourself from drooling.

"What's wrong?" he asked, "Just going to keep looking? I thought you said you could handle me."

"I-I can!" You snapped, your pride not allowing you to back down, "You're so impatient."

Uzui's chuckle made the hairs on the back of your head prick up, a certain darkness to it. "You know, I'm keeping track of all the bratty comments you make. I can't wait till it bites you in the ass~"

"Sh-shut up!"

"That's another one~"

With a huff, you leaned forward against Uzui's leaning body, gulping as you gripped the folds of his yukata and pulled them apart, completely exposing his torso to you. Never being one to be so forward but also refusing to back down, you pressed you face against his neck and kissed it, your soft lips touching his fair skin. Uzui's groan of content could be felt on your lips as you slowly started kissing his body, a hand coming up to run up his abs. You slowly got more and more confident, your tongue peaking out to lick at his collarbone, your hips grinding down harder against his member. But your pride took a hit when Uzui suddenly started chuckling, making you frown and look up and him.

"Something funny?" you asked, annoyed.

"Yes. You. Kissing and touching me like a blushing virgin. Is this what you meant when you said you'd rock my world? Because if so, I'm not impressed."

You scoffed, cheeks heating up in embarrassment, "You- well excuse me for not being a whore like you-"

But before you could finish your sentence, one of Uzui's hand shot up, grabbed the back of your hair and pulled harshly, making you gasp as your neck was suddenly snapped back. "Watch that filthy mouth of yours." he said, cock twitching as he heard your gasps, "I think it's time I teach you who's in charge here."

"Y-you started it!" you gasped out, head paining from how he was pulling your hair, words hard to speak from how your neck was being stretched. Uzui simply clicked his tongue, "Still have an attitude. I'm afraid I don't have the patience to wait for you to move things along." His free hand expertly tugged at the sash of your yukata and ripped it off of you, making you gasp as your body was exposed to him, no time to feel shy as he tugged your head down and met you for a kiss. It was a greedy and feral lip lock, Uzui immediately massaging your tongue with his own, dominating the kiss effortlessly.

Maybe you did bite off more than you could chew.

But damn, if you weren't excited.

"I've been wanting to bend your bratty ass over my knee and teach you a good lesson every since you opened your mouth." Uzui growled as he bit your lower lip, making you yelp, "Telling me you'll rock my world when you blush like a virgin when you grind on my dick- how adorable."

"That's not- I-" you tried to protest, not knowing what you were protesting in the first place.

"Shut up." Uzui said, kissing you again before picking you up with one hand, your legs wrapped around his waist with his hand under your butt. "We're going to the bedroom." he said, easily carrying you towards said room, "It's time I teach you some manners. And remember, five minutes are on the clock."

Uzui got you to cum in three minutes.

Once he threw you on the bed, he ripped your Yukata off, followed by your undergarments, leaving you completely naked. He shrugged off the fabric he had on as well, his cock springing out of its confines and you swear you forgot how to breathe for a second.

How on earth did you have the audacity to joke that his dick wasn't big? It was a monster of a member, long and thick with heavy balls dangling between his legs. You gulped as he crawled onto the bed, looking down at you like a predator stalking its prey. He grabbed your legs and spread them apart, exposing your sex to him. Gripping you on the back of your thighs, he pushed you enough to make your body bend, your cunt exposed to him even more obscenely.

"U-Uzui-san!" you squealed, face red hot at the way he was staring at your cunt.

"Daddy."

"Wha-"

"You're going to call me Daddy." he explained, licking his lips as he leaned down, his mouth inching towards your sex, "and Daddy needs to prepare your tiny pussy to take his fat cock."

And that's how you experienced the fastest orgasm of your life. Within three minutes, Uzui was drinking down your cum, the man's mouth and tongue so expertly pleasuring you, it was a clear loosing battle. He laughed into your cunt as you came, the vibration making your body tremble even more as he ate you out, paying extra attention to your clit as he took the sensitive bud into his mouth and sucked so hard, it almost made you cum again.

Once you were down from your high, once he looked down on you as he wiped your juices off his lips- you knew you were fucked.

"So," he said, picking up the sash of your yukata from where he discarded it before wrapping it a few times around his hand and making a show of pulling it tightly to make a 'crack' sound, "Remember how I mentioned I want to take you over my knee?"

~~~~~

"Say it."

"I- I don't w-want to-"

"Say it or I'll spank you all night."

With a sob, knowing full well he meant it, you had no choice but to relent, swallowing down your pride as you said:

"D-Daddy please stop spanking my n-naughty pussy!"

Head hanging upside down from how you were placed over Uzui's knee, the blood rushing to your ears almost made you miss the way Uzui groaned.

"Is your poor pussy in pain?" he cooed, petting said pussy. It was hot to the touch, your pussy lips dyed a bright red, matching your ass. A man of his word, he spanked you as punishment for your bratty behavior and comments, holding you still as he rained spanks down on your poor butt, your hands tied behind your back, unable to do anything about it. Once he was satisfied with marking up your ass, he spread your legs a bit and started spanking your pussy, laughing at the way you twitched and shook, your cries of pain only making his cock get harder.

He slapped your pussy again, making you squeal. "Answer me."

"Yes! Yes- m-my pussy hurts so much Daddy!"

"Aww, poor baby~" he said, raining tiny pats on your cunt repeatedly, not as hard but still enough to make your body tremble, "have you learned your lesson?"

"Yes Daddy!" you said with zero hesitation.

"Are you going to act like a brat again?"

"I won't, I p-promise! I'll be good-"

"That's my girl," Uzui said, cupping your pussy gently, the warmth of his hand against your sore, red cunt making you gasp, "But we're not done yet. Make sure you keep your promise, alright?"

~~~~~

"U-U-Uzui-s-san! S-slow down p-please!" you squealed, voice jumping as Uzui jack-hammered into you, his hips practically a blur as he pounded your pussy. Fucking you from behind, he ignored your cries as he brought a leg up to better fuck you, laughing at your yelp and the way your pussy clamped around him.

"That's not my name," he growled, the grip he had on your hips bruising as he bashed his cock into your poor cunt, "What's. My. Name?" He spanked your ass three times to put emphasis on his words, your body jumping with each hit. Tears filled your eyes from the burn, no doubt a bright, red hand-print left behind on your already red skin. The burn of Uzui's hips slapping against you took your breath away, your poor spanked ass and pussy not getting a break.

"D-Daddy!" you cried out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Uzui showed no signs of slowing down- if anything you felt his cock grow bigger inside you- "Daddy please- please- please slow down? P-Please!"

"Shhh, you can take it, right?" Uzui said, snickering as a hand grabbed the back of her head and pushed, smothering your face against the mattress, "Didn't you say you could handle me? Where'd your fight go?"

Your sobs were muffled by the cloth, his grip on your head unrelenting. You gripped the bed-sheets so hard veins were popping out on your hands, hands no longer tied up, your tears soaking into the mattress. The lack of air only made your body get even more sensitive, your pussy clamping down harder against Uzui's fat cock.

"You were such a fucking brat-" Uzui growled, feeling the familiar knot in his abdomen start to tighten, "Talking such big- fuck that's good- such big game! Saying you could take me- but look at you now. Pathetic~"

He gripped your hair and pulled, ignoring your cry of pain as your neck snapped back, your body following the movement until you were upright on your knees, Uzui's firm body pressed against your back. With a laugh, he let go of your hair only to then catch you in a choke-hold. His huge biceps pressed against your neck, restricting your airways, the man snickering at your feeble attempt to grab him. You were held up by his arm around your throat and his cock slamming against you, completely at his mercy, as you were the entire night.

"I like them pathetic~" Uzui growled into your ear before giving your lobe a bite, pulling on it with his teeth, making you squeal. Your face was turning a bright red, your mouth wide open and eyes rolling to the back of your head. The force of his thick member splitting apart your poor pussy combined with the warmth of his body behind you and the tight feeling of his arm against your neck- you never felt like this before:

Completely and utterly fucked.

You had already cum three times, the man fingering you to your orgasm after he spanked you and fucking you to climax out when he stuffed you with his cock.

Being wrong never felt so good.

His hips kept working into you, the slap of his balls against your cunt so obscene, you could still hear it despite the blood flowing around your head. One hand gripping his biceps while the other went back to grab at his thrusting hip, you held on for dear life, thoughts leaving your head as you sunk into a mental state where all you could think about was Uzui.

"Ooh~ That's what I like to see~" Uzui groaned, the expression on your face making his sadistic side purr in happiness. Seeing you completely fucked out and at his mercy- this is what he needed- this is what he craved.

"Fucked the brat right out of you, didn't I?" the man said, reveling in his accomplishment, "What was it you said to me? I can't satisfy one woman, let alone three? Hmm? Hmm?"

With a slap to your thigh, you yelped as Uzui's free hand went between your legs, his rough finger starting to twirl your clit around. "Daddy- no- too sensitive!" you pleaded, body twitching underneath his hold as you felt spikes of pleasurable pain run through you as he toyed with your sensitive bud, "Please- i'm sorry! I'm- ah- sorry!"

"Sorry for what?" Uzui growled, pinching your clit so hard it made you scream, "Be specific you naughty little brat!"

"I'm sorry f-for making fun of you!" you confessed, "Sorry for saying you're not g-good in bed- you're amazing- fuck- ah- ah!"

"All it takes is some cock to get to behave, hmm?" Uzui snarled.

"Daddy- i'm gonna cum- can I cum? Please?" you begged, knowing well from last time that he expected you to ask for permission. "Go ahead." Uzui said, hand working your clit even faster, "Greedy slut. Cumming four times while Daddy hasn't even cum once. You better make it up to me."

He chocked you even harder, veins popping in his muscles as he took your breath away, literally. The lack of air made your body go into overdrive, face red as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Within seconds, you squirted all over his cock, the first time you ever experienced that, liquid gushing out of your pussy, dripping down both your bodies before seeping into the mattress. Uzui held your trembling body down, letting out a cheeky whistle as his hips didn't relent, fucking your orgasm for every single drop.

"Fuck! That was so fucking hot!" Uzui said with a laugh, "You're going to do that again." You could do nothing as he pushed you back onto the bed, your limbs having no strength to hold you up as you fell flat on your stomach, just lying down on the bed. But that seemed to be what Uzui wanted, the man following you as he lied down on top of you and started fucking you pro bone. You sobbed as his cock somehow went even deeper, slamming against your womb mercilessly. The weight on his body on you coupled with the ravenous feeling of his member fucking you within an inch of your life almost made you black out.

"Daddyyy!" you cried out, tears streaming down your cheeks as your pussy was pounded, "C-Can't cum anymore- please-" You probably said 'please' more time tonight that you had in your entire life. "You think you're done?" Uzui growled, hips not loosing their rhythm as he chased his pleasure, your pussy so wet and hot, he had to focus real hard to not climax immediately. It was only thanks to his training as a demon slayer that he could last this long- his breathing techniques allowing him to delay his orgasm as much as possible. If he was a normal man, no doubt he would have came ages ago. But it was thanks to his trained body that he could keep going which was good, because he wasn't done punishing you.

"No. You're done when I say so, understand?" You sobbed as a response. "You're done when I empty my balls inside this perfect pussy of yours and breed you- got it?" "Y-Yes Daddy." "That's a good girl. Don't pass out on me now, alright? I'll keep fucking you anyway."

~~~~~

You woke up the next morning, every inch of your body in pain and sore, especially your pussy which took load after load of Uzui's cum. You lost count how many times you came, the rest of the night being a blur and you remembered nothing but him breeding you. At some point he caught you in a mating press and fucked you so hard you swore you temporarily blacked out, waking up only to feel him fill your womb up again.

You sat up on the bed, looking to the side and scoffed at your reflection in the nearby mirror. You looked like a mess. Exhaustion was clear on your face, your eyes sunken from the tears you cried, hair a mess and your naked body littered with bite marks and hickies. You looked at your partner, the man looking the complete opposite. Silky white hair draped over his pillow, his skin clear and glowing with a soft smile on his handsome face.

You had an urge to smack his pretty face, annoyed at how much he wrecked your body despite the fact that you enjoyed every second of it. He truly brought out something in you and it was scary- but damn it was fun.

Deciding to listen to your intrusive thoughts, you raised your hand up to smack him, when he suddenly opened his eyes, greeted to the image of you with your hand raised. Thinking quickly on your feet, you gulped and blinked your eyes as you slowly brought your hand down to cup his cheek lovingly, rubbing it sweetly like that was your plan all along.

"...Because I wrecked your body last night, I'll let this slide." Uzui said, grasping your hand with his own before placing a gentle kiss on it, "But I won't be so nice next time."

"So there's gonna be a next time?" you asked with a smile, plopping down against his broad chest.

"Of course." Uzui said, running a gentle hand through your hair, "You belong to Daddy now."

[shit-talker]

The 141 have a ridiculous run of inside jokes that is continuosly ruining their lives, such as;

1.) If someone says, "You love it really," to you, you immediately have to agree with them, no matter what the circumstances. Otherwise, you lose the ability to do it back. This has resulted in many weird fake confessions, including one time in which Soap got fed up with people making your mom jokes at him and went on a rant about it. Ghost glanced at him in front of a room full of cadets and just went, "You love it really, though," and Soap almost died as he sadly nodded and replied, "Yeah, I do."

2.) If something even remotely sexual sounding is said about you, you must always say, "You're damn right I do/am/will," back. This backfired once when they were in a defreif and Price said something about Gaz "coming through the back door" and Gaz, without think, winked and replied "You're damn right I did," In front of everyone and got in trouble for mild insubordination. (The others almost died laughing as he realised what he'd done, who he'd done it to, and who he'd done it in front of (aka Price's bosses))

3.) When talking about Roach, they will always act like he's died. He hasn't, but none of them can stop the joke, and it always makes all of them crack up, even Roach. This once caused major panic, as once when Ghost was discussing their latest mission with Laswell, he said, "It was fine because Roach - God rest his soul -" and Laswell had about two minutes where she thinks Roach has dropped dead and she didn't fucking know.

4.) They will always make up bad stories for how they met Ghost, if anyone ever asks. It doesn't matter what the truth is, or who they're speaking to, when asked, all three of them will reply with some made up, overly dramatic or down right boring story on how they met. These stories ranged from Ghost, saving them from a shark attack (Gaz), Ghost selling them assorted drugs as a teenager (Roach), and most devastatingly is when Soap told a distant relative of his that he met Ghost after "finding him with my older brother, behind his wifes back" he does not have an older brother, and so there is no wife.

5.) They always reference the "Malibu incident." None of them have ever been to Malibu. Nothing bad has ever happened there, but now they've created a whole conspiracy in the British Army about a coverup that happened in Malibu. Price knows about this one and finds it endlessly funny, so he goes along with it, never directly mentioning it but refusing to deny it when someone asks. If anyone ever asks about the details of it, they just give a deadpanned look as if the other person should already know and say; "Don't make me say it." There are rumours. Like, a lot of rumours.

6.) Roach claps every time someone says, "I'll be there for you" because once he clapped at the wrong time during the friends intro and had been paying the price ever since. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes you'll just hear him clapping - not even in the tune to the friends theme. Just random clapping. If any of the others hear it, they almost always reply with "That's a fuckin' joke" in a really disappointed tone. It's confused a lot of people.

[cutieln4]

Matchmaker | LN4

lando norris x fem!reader, background lestappen

summary: you try getting involved in max and charles' love lives, and it turns out they're also trying to get involved in yours

At the age of 21 years old, you joined McLaren after becoming a champion in all the junior categories. This made you the first woman in modern F1, and the first woman in several decades. And if people thought that Lando had a lot of energy, they had not met you yet.

Now that your rookie season was halfway done with, you've learned two important things. 1) Lando was very easy to get along with and 2) Max and Charles were certainly in love. 

There were a couple times when you had been on the podium with them, and of course you loved being on the podium, but having to third wheel that pair would drive anyone insane. 

So, when you got back from the summer break, you decided to make it your mission to get them together. Step 1 was telling Lando about your plans.

"Landooo!" you called out as you saw him walking in the paddock up ahead, running to catch up with him. 

"Hey, Y/n/n," he greeted you with a handshake. 

"I have a plan," you said devilishly. 

"Shit, that can never be good."

"Hey! Hear me out. So, Charles and Max, you know?"

"Who? I've never heard of those people in my life," he said sarcastically. 

"Ooookay, I could do without the attitude, thanks. Anyways, I'm sure you've noticed how in love with each other they are. Like hello? They literally scream 'enemies to lovers' trope. You know what I mean? I just need to find a way to get them to confess their undying love for each other." 

Lando's eyes widened and he looked around, making sure that no one was listening before pulling you to the side.

"Oh—jeez, so, you in?"

"The entire grid has been trying to get them together for years, you think that you'll be able to do it?"

"Yeah, obviously, but I'll need a sidekick that's why I'm telling you, so...?" 

He sighed. "Alright, tell me your ideas."

"Yes!"

"But I'm not your sidekick, we're partners in crime, okay?"

"Sure, sure. Anyways, step 1 of 'el plan' is to just subtly start mentioning Max or Charles when in conversation with the other. Get them in each others brains, you know? Like 'Oh Max was saying how he hopes for rain.'

Then, step 2, we start mentioning things that they've said about each other. 'Hey Max, Charles was saying how he always loves his on track battles with you the most,' stuff like that. Then we have to start interrogating them about their love life so they can hopefully admit their feelings. That's all I got so far."

Lando nodded, deep in thought. "Okay, this could work, this could work."

~~~~~~~~~~

Charles won in Monza, with Max and yourself completing the podium. While you were getting your interview done, the two of them seemed to be locked in their "debrief".

"Am I the only one who's noticed all the chemistry between her and Lando?" Max asked.

"You're definitely not the only one, mate. Being in a press conference with those two is unbearable."

"Ugh, yes, like just kiss already. I'm glad I'm not going crazy. We need to do something about it, get them to confess their feelings."

"I agree," Charles replied, staring into Max's eyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Later, they were in the press conference room, waiting for it to start, and Max and Charles were chatting away.

Y/n: MATE

Y/n: HELP

Y/n: I CAN'T TAKE THIS THIRD WHEELING

Landhoe: you can't complain you got a podium

Y/n: i actually can complain, i've suffered too much

Landhoe: you like seeing them together, don't lie. 

You grinned at that, then glanced up from your phone to see Max and Charles looking at you. 

"Who you texting?" Max asked.

"Just Lando," you shrugged, confused as Charles and Max gave each other a look.

"You guys seem to be getting along well, no?" Charles asked. 

"Uh yeah, I guess. It helps that we're both pretty similar."

"Yes, yes, very similar," Max nodded, and you raised your eyebrow, side-eyeing them. 

"Anyway, you guys have anyone special in your life, yet?" you asked.

The smirk on Max's face faltered as he glanced at Charles for a millisecond before looking back to her. 

"No, not yet, mate."

"Me neither," Charles added. 

You hummed. "Hm, okay."

~~~~~~~~~~

In Suzuka, Lando and you were talking while walking towards the driver's parade. 

"So I'm going to talk to Charles and you're going to talk to Max, sounds good?"

"Yup, I know the plan," Lando confirmed. 

"Great, we'll debrief after the race."

You spotted Charles and quickly ran up next to him before someone else could start a conversation with him. 

"Hey, Charlie! Congrats on your podium in Singapore!"

"Thanks, mate."

"Man, it's crazy how fast the season flew by, it seems like just yesterday I was a scared little rookie rolling up in Bahrain. Anyway, I was hoping to get your advice on something," you said, trying not to bring up the topic too suddenly. 

"Yeah, of course, go ahead."

"Okay, well, let's say hypothetically in a situation where you like someone, but you're not sure if they like you back, and you don't want to say anything because it could ruin your friendship and it would be awkward because you have to see them for the majority of the year, what would you do?" you asked, trying to gauge his feelings about potentially confessing his feelings. 

Charles glanced somewhere behind you, and you didn't want to look but you would've bet a million bucks that it was at Max.

"Well, if you're feeling like that person even just maybe likes you back, I say go for it. You wouldn't want to waste precious time that you could be spending together because you were too scared."

"So you're saying that if you like someone, you should just go for it?" you confirmed. 

"Yeah."

"Interesting..." you rubbed your chin, then turned to look at Max behind you. 

Meanwhile, Lando and Max were deep in conversation. 

"What would you think if two of the drivers started dating? Cause some of these people have some real chemistry," Lando asked, trying to seem nonchalant. 

Max shrugged. "I mean, yeah, some of us have known each other since our childhoods. I wouldn't be surprised if some crushes have developed. It's not my business, but I don't mind. It would be interesting, though."

"What about Charles and Pierre?" Lando egged on, waiting for a reaction. 

He watched in satisfaction as Max's eyes turned a shade darker and his jaw clenched. "Nah, I don't see it. But you and Y/n seem to be getting awfully close."

Lando couldn't help the blush that painted his cheeks. He tried to say something but was at a loss for words, mouth gaping like a fish. Max started snickering.

"We're just friends," he finally stuttered out.

"Alright, if you say so."

Lando sighed, turning away in disappointment. That did not go according to plan. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Max won the race, and because the McLaren was good in the high speed corners, Lando finished 2nd and yourself 3rd. 

You and Lando hugged as soon as you got out of your cars.

"Wohoooo! Let's go!" you cheered as you both ran to the fence of McLaren workers. 

You got done with the interview and was the first one in the cooldown room. You had put your helmet down on the platform and was drinking your water. You heard the others entering and turned around, bumping into Lando. 

"Oh, shit!" you exclaimed as you dropped your water bottle. 

You both bent down to grab it, causing your hands to touch and both of you to pause. Lando then grabbed you bottle and you both stood up, staring into each others' eyes for a couple seconds before you snapped out of it and moved to grab your water bottle. 

"Thanks," you said quietly. 

Lando was still looking at you, before quickly saying, "You're welcome."

You noticed Max watching you and the camera on you, so you cleared your throat and moved around Lando to sit on one of the chairs. 

"That was a good overtake, in the beginning," you commented to Max, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. 

Before the conference, Max was quick to get on his phone.

Max: Holy shit, I have so much to tell you about Lando and Y/n

Max: You should come to my hotel room tonight

Max: I think we're in the same hotel

Charles: I have stuff to tell you too. What time?

Max: Does after dinner, 9:00 work? 

Charles: That's perfect

Max: Great, my room is 1633

Charles: See you then ;)

And for some reason Max felt like a giddy schoolgirl at the thought of Charles coming to his hotel room.

You and Lando kept stealing glances at each other whenever the other wasn't looking, and it was so frustrating.

Later, when it was just around 9:00, Max waited (im)patiently for Charles to knock on his door, and he jumped when he finally heard the noise, getting up to let him in. Charles walked in nervously. 

"We can sit on the couch," Max commented, and Charles quickly situated himself on one end, and Max on the other. 

"Ok, you go first," Max urged. 

"Well Y/n came up to me during the driver's parade and she was talking about 'hypothetically' liking something but not doing anything about it because it could ruin their friendship. So of course I told her she should just go for it, and then she looked at Lando."

"Oh my God. Lando came up to me during the driver's parade and asked what I would think if two drivers started dating each other, and I said something about how close him and Y/n were, and he blushed. And then in the cool down room, they bumped into each other which made Y/n drop her water bottle, and when they both reached down to pick it up they touched hands. Then they just stared at each other for like 5 fucking seconds."

"Jesus, what is going on with them."

"I know right, like holy fuck just make out already! I'm sick of their pining."

Max shifted on the couch, causing his foot to touch Charles' leg. 

"Anyway, want to watch a movie?" Max asked, and Charles nodded eagerly. 

And that's how they ended up in the pitch dark, a bowl of microwaved popcorn in between them, some racing movie on the television. 

They both reached for the popcorn at the same time, causing their hands to touch, and both of them snapped their heads to look at each other. 

They stared at each other, eyes flickering down to each other's lips...until the sound of Max's phone ringing caused them both to jump apart. 

"Jesus!" Max exclaimed, quickly silencing his phone, and they reluctantly turned back to the movie, moment ruined. 

~~~~~~~~~~

A couple weeks passed until they were in Qatar. Max and Charles hadn't spoken to each other, and there was minimal communication between you and Lando. 

Max would be starting the race on pole, then Lando, you, and Charles. 

As the race went on, it seemed like that would be the finishing order, until halfway through Max started having braking issues. Lando caught up, overtaking Max for the lead, and you did the same a few laps later. 

The rest of the race, Max had adapted to the issue but still had slow pace because of it, which left him defending against Charles. 

The race ended in that order, Lando taking his first win.

"YEAHHH!!! LET'S FUCKING GO BABY! WOOHOOOOOO!!!" Lando cheered. 

They parked up in front of the podium boards. Lando opened his visor, got out of his car and stood on it, holding up his pointer finger and pumped his fist in celebration, fireworks going off in the background in the dark sky. 

You quickly got out of your car and removed your helmet, going straight to Lando. 

"You did it! You fucking did it! I'm so proud of you!" you told him as you pulled him in for a hug. 

He stared at you for a second when you let go, then immediately removed his helmet, putting a hand on your waist, pulling you closer and connecting your lips together. 

You were stunned for a second, before placing your hand on his cheek and deepening the kiss. Everything around you guys went still, like only the two of you existed. You eventually pulled away and could hear the booming of fireworks, the cheers from the crowd, and the whistles from the McLaren team a few feet away. You both blushed as you came to your senses. 

"I really fucking like you," Lando breathed out, slightly winded from the kiss. 

"I would hope so, after that," you teased, before pulling him in for another kiss. 

Max stood by his team, watching the pair from a far, his jaw dropped. 

"Fucking finally," Max sighed. 

But then he glanced behind him and spotted Charles walking to the FIA garage to get weighed, and an irresistible urge overcame him.

He followed Charles into the garage and grabbed his arm, dragging him behind one of the curtains.

"Did you see that! They finally—"

Charles was cut off as Max crashed their lips together.

"I think I've been wanting to do that for a long time," Max admitted when they pulled away. 

"I've been wanting to do that since I pushed you off the track in karting," Charles smiled, and Max smiled back, kissing him again.

—••—••—••—••—••—••—••—••—••—

a/n: i never intended to publish this anywhere but here i am. i literally never write written romance like this so this is really cringe and i cringed while writing it but enjoy ig. if you have any suggestions though please tell me!!

[blackkwidowed]

Imagine kissing Nats bruises and scars after a mission and just being soft and showing her so much love.

I just wanna give Nat a hug tbh

just the entire concept of nat finding it so hard to be vulnerable around anyone but you is both heartbreaking yet the softest most adorable shit ever. here's a little drabble. some darker themes here as well i guess. also, best friend bucky? you got a taste of that here as well. also haven't proofread so sorry

•

When the few team mates arrive back off a mission, there's a dark, almost sad, atmosphere among them. Natasha, Bucky, and Clint had gone together for a few days to track something down. They'd come back early, empty handed, bruised, beaten down and overall, unsuccessful.

Natasha had looked the most upset. She hadn't been crying or anything, she just looked glum. She looked like she'd seen something no one wants to see.

Immediately you say your hellos to everyone, glad that they made it back safely and in once piece- albeit a few bruises and minor injuries. Something had happened out there.

You pull Natasha into your arms and there's something about the way she relaxes and sinks against you that makes your concern skyrocket. Fingers running through her hair, you cup the base of her skull in your hand and bring the other to her cheek for her to look at you. "What happened, my love?"

She sighs, the kind of sigh that speaks for itself.

"We found a group of kids. They'd all been locked up by these asshole guys we were trying to find. They'd been brainwashed. Beaten. Taken from their families and forced into whatever the hell kind of project that's been lined up for them."

You flinch, closing your eyes and repeating Natasha's sigh from before. You understand now.

"Got jumped by some security who've had training from God knows where. Good enough to get some hits in, put it that way." She cranes her neck a little, moves her hair out the way, enough to show the budding purple mark under her ear that's making it way across her jaw. "Powerful bunch, these guys. We're gonna need some more planning before we go back in there."

You nod in agreement, tracing your finger gently across the mark and pressing a soft, barely there kiss to the skin.

"Are you okay?" It comes as a whisper, gentle and only just loud enough for her to hear it. "I mean, I know you're not okay as such just. What do you need?"

She smiles gently at you, pushing herself closer to you again and resting her nose in the crook of your neck. "This is good."

You press a kiss to the side of her head, looking up at the guys who're now sat at the breakfast bar of the kitchen, also looking on like they've seen a ghost. You can't help but feel sorry for whatever they've seen, it takes a lot to have them left feeling like this.

You send Nat to your room, telling her you'll be up there in a moment and to get changed out of her suit. Quickly, you make your way over to the boys and rest a hand on each of their shoulders. "You need anything you know where I am, alright?"

They thank you thoroughly, Bucky even slinging an arm around your waist and squeezing lightly as a thank you. "Take care of her, yeah? I think, maybe, she's reminded of everything she went through. It's hit her, this one. Just take care of her."

Bucky's smile is laced with pain, heartache. You don't see him like this often either. You nod at him. "Of course."

-

What you find in your room is enough to make you angry. Nat's got a fair few bruises, and it makes you want to track down the bastard(s) that managed to leave such a mark on her soul.

She's sat on the end of the bed, glancing over the hand shaped mark on her arm where she'd been grabbed and thrown just hours earlier. She's not even mad that she let her guard down. Normally she'd be upset with herself, but she can't think about it.

You perch at the head of the bed against the pillows, beckoning her over in a gentle tone. She settles into your side and curls an arm around you tightly, as if she's frightened you'll leave. It only makes you grip her tighter.

Peppering gentle kisses to the side of her face, she sighs in relief and sinks somehow deeper into you, nuzzling into your neck. You're warm, familiar, comforting, you're everything she needs in a time of need.

"Thank you," she whispers against your skin.

"For what, baby?"

"Being here when I need you."

You smile softly, raising a hand to her face and brushing your fingers across her cheek. You kiss her softly, slowly, so gentle she has to pull you even closer so you'll kiss her firmer. Your lips move against hers and it might just be the highlight of Natasha's day, feeling you like this.

"You don't ever have to thank me. You know that's what I'm here for." You continue stroking her cheek, down her neck, and back up. Touches like this are her favourite. It warms her heart when she remembers the bruise on the side of her face, and the fact that your touch is so gentle against her skin that the contact with the bruise doesn't bother her even a little bit. "I love you."

Natasha hums softly, moving to lay on top of you now. She kisses you again, whispering against your mouth. "I love you."

You hold her close, hands running across her hips, fingers trailing up her back. She lays on you, nuzzled in and as close as possible. You don't ever want either of you to move, this is where you're content. This is your happy place.

She's relaxed now, happier, and you know today's at the back of her mind still but for a moment, she can forget about it. She feels safe now, comforted. You're her happy place, her everything, her lifeline. To her, you make it worth it.

"Get some sleep for me okay?" You murmur into her hair.

You feel her nod against where she lays on your chest. "Only if i can stay here."

You give a soft laugh, rubbing a hand up her back and tangling into red hair. "Always."

[ashwhowrites]

hi! Can I request older Eddie and student reader?

They met in coffee shop he's working in and since then they're dating.

One time he hears two student talking about reader (they said her name and ginger hair color) and one student's complaining how he flirt all the time with her but she doesn't even see it. All she talks is her boyfriend

And Eddie has been feeling insecure in this relationship because he thinks he's too old for her and she can do better than him but he's not jealous. He knows she would never cheat on him.

But hearing this conversation he became so self confident and appreciated and when she visited him after closing coffee shop, he literally can't stop himself from showing her his love. They have the most passionate sex in the back of the coffee shop. His main mission became making her feel so good so she can't think about anything else than him

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻 I didn't include the specific hair color since I never go into specifics with how the reader looks so it's open to everyone.

⚠️SMUT, I wrote it high so I'm not even sure what I wrote

College boys

Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. She was near graduation, ready to be handed her degree. She had a small waitressing job to make quick money, and she had the perfect boyfriend.

She met him at the coffee shop he worked at. He was older, roughly in his thirties. He worked at the coffee shop for extra money, his main career being in mechanics. His rough hands traced delicate shapes on her skin. His mature eyes captured her perfectly in every moment.

She felt like she could remember every detail no matter how much time passed.

~

She walked into the shop, a laptop in her arm as she searched the menu. It was a new coffee place and she wasn't sure what to get. She felt nervous as she realized she was next and had no idea what to get.

"What can I get you?"

She opened her mouth to speak and looked down. She was at a loss for words as she looked into the most beautiful brown eyes she'd ever seen. He was gorgeous.

He had dark curly brown hair, thrown into a low bun. A t-shirt underneath his apron that made his arms look defined. She read his name tag, Eddie. She tasted the name on her tongue as she stared at him like he was God himself.

"I uh, I don't even know." she laughed, looking back up at the menu

"Hot or cold, girl?" Eddie asked, a twinkle in his eyes as he smiled.

"Cold," she answered

"I'll surprise you," he said as he punched in something on the register.

She smiled and walked off to the pickup counter. She couldn't help but sneak a look at him as he moved around and made the drink. She felt her cheeks heat up when he caught her. He'd smile to the floor and look back to the drink.

"Here you are," he smiled as he placed the drink on the counter. She thanked him and grabbed the drink. She walked out and got in her car.

She went to take a sip when she noticed ink on the cup

She smiled as she read his handwriting with his number below it.

~

And ever since then, they've been together. She called him and they went on a date. They instantly connected and the attraction was strong. The age difference didn't bother either of them. She was mature and so was he. She enjoyed their dates at his apartment. She loved it when she got to spend the night with him instead of her small dorm.

Eddie wishes he felt their relationship was as strong as she did. He couldn't help but feel like he needed to always prove himself. He felt insecure compared to all the guys he saw on her campus. Their muscular bodies as they threw footballs and ran on the fields. He met a few of her guy friends and felt intimated by a few. It was easy to tell they were interested in her. But he knew she'd never go for them or hurt Eddie in any type of way. He didn't trust the boys. No one ever trusts young guys, especially college boys.

~~~

"Thank you for dropping me off," Y/N said, she leaned over her seat and pressed her lips against Eddie's lips.

He smiled into the kiss and kissed her back. He couldn't help but deepen the kiss and move his tongue against hers. She felt her head spinning as he pulled away.

"My pleasure," he teased, loving the lost look on her face as she floated down to reality. "Better go, Lexi is waiting."

"Right!" Y/N said as she snapped out of her daydream. The taste of Eddie was still on her tongue as she got out of the car. She waved goodbye as she walked over to Lexi. Eddie drove off with a honk.

"I wish I had an older boyfriend to eat my face off in the parking lot," Lexi groaned, with a teasing smile.

"He's the best isn't he?" Y/N gushed

"He's yummy," Lexi giggled

"Who is?" Tommy asked as he slid in next to Y/N. The three walked into the building.

"Eddie," Y/N said. Tommy was a good friend of hers so he knew all about Eddie.

"Oh cool, Well tonight is the big game. Can I count on you to be my cheerleader?" Tommy flirted. Lexi rolled her eyes at his comment but didn't say anything.

"Of course. Eddie and I will be front row." Y/N smiled

Tommy felt his smile drop at the sound of Eddie's name once again. But he shook it off.

"Are you coming to the after-party? We are pretty sure we are going to win." Tommy said, "But it's just for the students."

"I'm not sure, parties aren't really my thing. And not sure if I'll feel comfortable going alone without Eds" Y/N shrugged, plus she wanted to spend the night with Eddie.

"I'll take care of you, and be next to you the whole time." Tommy offered.

"But then you can't enjoy the party," Y/N said confused, the three made it into class

"You are all I need to have a good time," Tommy smiled.

"I'll think about it." Y/N smiled, they repeated as they took their seats.

Tommy sat next to his friend Luke with a smirk

"I'd wipe that smirk off. No way she's coming." Luke laughed

"Why not?" Tommy asked, his smirk dropping

"It's only students. And no way she's gonna ditch her boyfriend for you."

"We'll see,"

~~~

Eddie leaned against the fence as he waited for Y/N. He looked at the group of students and the players on the field. He wasn't big on football but he'd go anywhere she asked him to.

"...Y/N's here."

Eddie's ears perked at the sound of his girlfriend's name. He looked on the field, where the sound came from.

He noticed Tommy with his helmet in his hands as he stood in his jersey. He rolled his eyes, he wasn't surprised he was focused on his girlfriend. Tommy was the main guy Eddie worried about.

"Here, babe," Y/N said as she handed Eddie his pretzel. Her other hand holding a drink. Eddie looked back at her with a smile, he could feel Tommy's eyes burning into them.

Feeling a bit jealous, Eddie threw his arm over her shoulder and walked to their seats on the bleachers.

~

Throughout the whole game, Tommy's eyes kept looking at her.

After he scored a touchdown, he winked right at her as she cheered. Granted, she's cheering for a friend but he thinks she's cheering as a crush. Eddie was older and wasn't going to dabble in games. But he wanted to snap that bitch in half.

"You seem tense. You okay?" Y/N asked, her hand landed on Eddie's knee. The game in the background as she focused on him.

Eddie smiled and nodded. He felt at ease whenever she looked at him. The crowd cheered and they both looked to see what they missed.

Tommy growled as she missed his touchdown, too locked on Eddie.

~~~

Eddie was closing the Cafe, sweeping underneath the tables as he waited for the remaining customers to leave.

He whistled a song as he walked and swept. He almost felt like he was crazy when he heard his girlfriend's name. He stopped whistling and looked up. But he didn't recognize any of them.

Must be from school?

"dude, you can't ask Y/N out. Tommy has tried a thousand times."

Eddie felt a twisting in his gut as he walked closer.

"Yeah, but that's Tommy. I'm better than him in every way possible." The random blonde said. Which made Eddie want to laugh. Y/N was obsessed with Eddie's dark curls.

"Being better than Tommy isn't what you have to worry about." The other boy snickered.

"What that old boyfriend of hers? One night with me between those legs, she'd have him out of her head."

Eddie's growl slipped and the boys looked at him. "We're closed. Time to go." He snapped.

"Chill dude. We'll go." The blonde said, the boys slipped out of the small booth and walked out the door.

Eddie felt anger pumping through his veins. Eddie looked up when the door jingled. His anger turned to lust as Y/N walked in.

Her long legs were in her shorts, the way she looked flawless in his band T-shirt. Sunglasses pulling back her hair as she smiled at him.

"Missed you, handsome." She said as she slid her arms around his neck. He dropped the broom and immediately shoved his lips on hers.

She was taken aback by the passion and desperation in his kiss. It turned her knees weak. She whimpered against his lips as he pushed his lips so hard into hers that her back was forced to arch.

His tongue was gentle and warm in her mouth. She felt like he wanted to be gentle but craved to tear her apart with his tongue and teeth. He was mature and practiced in the way he knew how to handle her body. His muscular arms held the weight of her body and his kiss held the weight of her heart.

"Fuck, wow," she gasped as Eddie pulled away.

"Remember that office in the back I showed you?" Eddie panted.

Y/N was lost for words as she panted, and nodded.

"I want you to strip down, nice and naked for me," his hand wrapped around her neck, "then sit on that desk, spread these legs open, and drip all down the desk until I come in there. Got it?"

Y/N shivered at his words as the image was painted in her head. She whimpered and nodded. He let go of her neck, his dark eyes watching her. She started to walk off, jumping as he landed a smack on her ass.

~

Eddie waited a few seconds, just to give her time to follow his demands.

Eddie slowly walked to the office, stripping down. He removed his apron, then his shirt, and his shoes. By the time he made it to the room, he was left in nothing but his boxers.

A big smirk on his face as she sat on the desk, her legs spread wide open, and her glistening pussy shined for his eyes. He could feel his cock suffocating in his boxers as he licked his lips. He walked towards her, and she shook as his eyes never moved from her cunt.

"Gonna cum just from the way you are looking at me." She moaned, Eddie chucked darkly as her cunt clenched.

"Oh, I bet. See you pulsing from here, pretty thing." He smirked. She wasn't sure what got into him but she wasn't going to distract him now.

"Gonna be a good girl and let me do whatever I want with you?" He asked, he yanked her hair so her chin was shot into the air.

"Fuck yes."

"Try again" he warned

"Yes, sir. Best girl for you." She moaned. Apparently, she said the right thing because Eddie sunk his three fingers inside her soaked cunt. Her walls instantly clamped around his long fingers as she shook.

Everything felt like it was buzzing. His hand yanks her hair and his fingers knuckle deep inside of her. She clawed at his bare chest as she was gasping for air. He loved watching her. The way her naked body shook, the sweat building on her sweet skin. How she bit so hard on her lip that blood began to leak, yet did nothing to stop the screams from leaving her lips.

"Loud girl today, huh?" He teased

He stared at her neck as a trail of sweat traveled down. His cock twitched at the idea in his head, and he leaned forward. His eyes stared straight into her heavy ones as he stuck out his tongue and licked up the traveling sweat.

She swore he was going to ruin her

She clamped around him as she felt herself getting close. The ecstasy burned in her stomach. He removed his hand from her hair, now moving his attention to her clit.

She let her body drop, going slump against his. He let his body catch hers as he circled her clit as fast as he could.

She tried to speak but couldn't get anything out. Her eyes asked and he answered. She let herself cum all over his fingers. He worked her through it, fingering her softly as she began to shake.

"Amazing job, sweet girl." He praised. She smiled at the compliment. Still barely awake as she panted.

"You take my breath away, Jesus fuck." She laughed, Eddie held her tired body and kissed her forehead.

"I know I pulled a big one out of you, think you can give me one more? Maybe on my tongue?" He asked. And how could she say no to that?

She didn't say anything, just pushed his head down. He laughed but easily let himself be pushed down to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her until his fingers were gripping into her ass.

She let out a gasp as he yanked her to the edge of the desk, his mouth immediately on her cunt.

She felt her jaw pop open and silent screams left her throat as Eddie slurped her up like a dog with a bowl.

She was embarrassed by how much sound came from her wetness.

But the sound seemed to edge Eddie more and more.

She felt his tongue everywhere. Inside of her, up and down, side to side. Then outside of her, sucking and biting.

She swore she could feel him writing his name with his tongue against her clit.

That same feeling was building and building until... He stopped.

She didn't have time to whine when he slammed his cock inside of her. It was so fast that she didn't see him take his boxers off.

He pounded into her like he wanted to bruise the shape of him inside of her.

He wasn't jealous, just simply making sure her brain was so fucked out that she couldn't form a possible thought that wasn't him.

The desk squeaked beneath them as he fucked himself inside of her. He was so lost inside of her, that he didn't bother to care about the cameras recording their every move. Hell, he wanted a tape of it just so he could send it to all those college boys who think they have a shot.

Eddie may not have a college degree or scholarship in football. But he owned her pussy and knew just how to fuck it.

She swore she had nothing left in her body to give him, but she wanted to give him it all. He felt amazing inside of her. The way his tip perfectly hit that sweet spot inside of her made her legs shake.

His fingers were back on her clit, she whimpered as he rolled her sensitive clit between his finger and thumb. Then whined louder when he pinched it, pushing down on her clit and pulling. His eyes watched as it snapped back into its perfect shape. Then he softly began to rub circles.

She lost her vision, eyes closed as her body felt everything. She never forgot the way Eddie fucked her, but this was definitely something she'd think about in her dorm. When she's alone at night and fucking herself. Moaning his name as she coated her toys in her sticky cum.

The harder she breathed, the faster Eddie rubbed her clit. His cock pushed inside of her, her pussy happily sucking him in. She was jealous of anyone he practiced with over his years, but she was damn pleased with the results.

She clawed at his chest again and he knew what it meant. He slid his left hand into hers, lacing their fingers intertwined. Then his right hand slid up her jaw, cupping it as he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.

They kissed passionately. The feeling of love somehow gained a taste as they passed it back and forth.

She came all over him as he filled her.

"I love you," she whined as she pulled back. That was exactly what Eddie needed to hear.

"I love you," he smiled, softly kissing her lips again as he slowly slid out of her. Their hands were still laced together.

"What was all that?" She asked, a glimmer in her eye.

"Just wanted to show I loved you," Eddie shrugged

"Goal achieved," she winked.

He chuckled and kissed her softly.

He had nothing to worry about, she was locked in on him and that's all he wanted.

~~~

"Thank you for dropping me off," she said as she leaned over and kissed Eddie's lips.

He kissed her back, making sure to nibble a little on her bottom lip.

She shook, still sensitive from the night before.

"Always my pleasure," Eddie smirked.

He watched as she got out of the car. Lexi waited for her as she waved to Eddie.

Y/N took a deep breath and began to walk to her, noticeably limping.

Eddie felt the smirk get bigger on his face

Lexi gasped as she looked between the embarrassed look on Y/N's face and the cocky look on Eddie's.

"Don't say a thing," Y/N warned as she made it to Lexi.

"About what?" Tommy asked as he walked up.

Eddie's prayers were answered when the blonde kid showed up as well. Eddie watched from his car in amusement, no rush to pull away.

"Y/N totally got laid last night. Poor girl can't even walk." Lexi bragged for her, and an impressed look sent Eddie's way.

Eddie enjoyed the way Tommy and the random kid grew annoyed.

Y/N covered her face in her hands embarrassed. The boys looked behind her to Eddie's car.

He smirked as he lifted his hand and flipped them off.

Eddie's girl doesn't fuck around with college boys

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

[loving-family-poll]

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Semifinals

Propaganda under the cut:

Sam/Dean:

I'm sorry but they have it all. children of metaphorical incest just continuing the cycle in any way they can. they are brothers and mother + son and wives and each other's scorned lovers and life partners they've had multiple infidelity arcs they are sexually psychopathic together they have forsook life and morality and the earth itself for each other and just love each other so much . They are literally in a heaven of their own making together for eternity, incestuously. Come on!!! Blueprint!!!!! It's not gay if he's your brother!!!!!

dean did stuff to sam's dead body in ahbl. i just know it

Messed-up, isolated sibs with all the daddy and abandonment issues. Their lives are so claustrophobic with the brothers no more than five feet apart in the car, a motel room, or standing next to civilians (face it, they are frigging magnets). Can't leave out that they are always touching each other to check for wounds which is a huge PLUS for any shipper.

Sam and Dean ARE literally the blowjob brothers. They walk into a situation and everyone goes well well well if it isn't the blowjob brothers....... And they say. Yep. That's us. And then they fix the situation with their epic love story

THE classic, iconic, show shopping, never done before etc. etc. incest ship. It changed fandom and it changed the world

Dave/Rose:

Daverose blondetwin sweep because they were codependent without ever meeting from growing up seeing each other in their dreams

What does it mean to be an abused teenage boy growing up alone and seeing a girl in your dreams every night who is also your best friend. and when you finally meet her you go on a suicide mission together even though nobody was asking you to die with her. and then you are the only two human beings left in the recognizable universe on a cold meteor surrounded by aliens but you’re glad it’s with her. and when you finally touch the girl from your childhood dreams she looks exactly like you. because she’s your sister

I don't have words for how good these snarky assholes are together. DaveRose is brain chemistry changing. They both put up so many fronts, and engage in so much snarky wordplay, and are constantly trying to get under each other's facade. They play off each other so well, witty and sharp, I need them to be together always

We all die & we all die alone are the two cold truths of the universe but dave and rose broke both simultaneously by ascending to godhood together

Their twincest wins because it is just so confusingly tragic? profound? dave leaving rose behind in a doomed world, dave following her to the bomb. they are both so closed & cut off & curt its hard to imagine the depth of these things. but that is their love language: giving up their lives for each other over and over, in a confusing and fumbling and heartfelt love song. i can’t say i love you but i know we’ll die together anyway. because we’re made of the exact same stuff. i’ll find you again at the last moment. that’s love.

THEY DIED TOGETHER, YOUR HONOR

Confirmed canon by the author, (something happened) between them. Parallels of dying by each other's sides in EVERY timeline. They are THE womb-to-tomb. There is nothing platonic about winking at your brother while talking about crushes, that shit is incestuous. Seer/Knight archetype. They will die protecting each other.

do you realize love someone if you don’t follow them on a suicide mission into the gaping maw of a literal fucking sun after they knock you out and psychoanalyze you in your dreams? the blueprint of the “ethereal androgynous blonde boygirl twins” trope. witch/knight dynamics. they find each other to die together in every timeline no matter what (but they’re still emotionally constipated teenagers who bicker and make fun of each other in pesterchum). kids with grown-up powers. perfect little freaks of nature. what if we looked exactly like each other’s eyes

[jetii]

I love love love your style of writing, I’m so happy I discovered you. As I see you are well on your way with writing a bunch of fics for the bad batch already I would very kindly request a smutty fic with my favorite reg Wolffexf!reader maybe with “only one bed” 🥹

That's so lovely to hear, thank you so much! 💙 I've never written Wolffe before so I hope I did him justice. This started out as pure smut, but my angst goblin brain got me in the end.

For One Night

Pairing: Wolffe x Jedi!Reader / Wolffe x fem!Reader

Words: 10,745

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, reader is Plo Koon's former Padawan, protective!Wolffe, mutual pining, forbidden love, love confessions, smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise kink, underwear kink maybe, biting, marking

Summary: When you and Wolffe are stranded during your first mission together in months, you're forced to confront the feelings between you that have been threatening to break through the surface.

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You’ve never seen a storm this bad.

The clouds are roiling and thundering above, but they aren't the typical gray you've come to expect. They are an ugly shade of yellow-green, as though there's an eerie, toxic glow coming from within. Lightning flashes across the sky, and with each successive burst you feel the rumble deep in your bones. The air is thick and wet, and the rain that pours down is torrential, but it isn't water.

The acid rains from the toxic atmosphere are a blessing and a curse. It washes away the filth of the world, but at the cost of further destroying the planet's natural ecosystem. It's the reason why all the humans are locked inside a walled city, why most of the animal species are extinct.

It’s also the reason why you and Wolffe are stuck here.

You've been assigned on a scouting mission, the first one for you since you were knighted. There was a group of battle droids sighted near the wall, and the Council didn’t want to take any chances. If there was an attack, the city would be completely defenseless.

A normal scouting mission would be simple enough, even during a storm. It would just require a couple hours of searching, and then you could report back. But you weren’t prepared for a storm this strong. The rain is so thick that you can barely see a few feet in front of you, the only light from the occasional flash of lightning. There are no signs of the droids, which means that the mission has become a fruitless endeavor. And with the acid rain threatening to burn into your skin, you can tell that it isn't safe to be outside for long.

Your comms have been down for hours, and you and Wolffe have no choice but to make your way back to the city.

"We need to find some sort of shelter," you say, shouting over the roar of the storm. "At least until this blows over."

Wolffe doesn’t look pleased. "We need to keep looking. Those droids—"

"They've either been washed away by the rain or they're gone. We'll head out again when the weather clears." You're the General now, so the mission is ultimately your responsibility. Wolffe grunts his displeasure, but you know that he'll obey.

There's a flash of lightning, and you shield your eyes from the glare. The rumble of thunder is louder than before, and you feel the vibration of it under your feet.

You shiver as another gust of wind cuts through your robes, the heavy material doing little to protect you from the elements. "I don’t have the protection you do, Wolffe. I can't stay out here much longer."

The tension in Wolffe's form eases, and he gives you a nod before turning. He begins to walk away, and you have to jog to keep up with his long strides.

The two of you stumble through the storm for what seems like ages. There are no natural shelters nearby, no caves or overhangs, nothing. You've made it back to the area where the droids were spotted, but you haven't found anything of note. Just dead trees, trees, and more trees. It's starting to become clear to you why no one has made an attempt to reclaim this part of the planet.

Then you notice a glint of metal in the distance.

"Wait." You hold up a hand.

Wolffe stops immediately, his hand dropping to his blaster.

You step closer, peering through the storm. There's definitely something there. You reach out, trying to get a sense of it. The Force is murky and turbulent, but you manage to get a vague idea of what you're dealing with.

"I think it's a bunker," you tell him. "And it's unoccupied."

Wolffe grunts, and he starts off towards the glimmer. You follow behind, trying to keep your footing on the muddy ground. The rain is starting to become too much, and you can barely see where you're going.

Finally, the entrance comes into view. It's a hatch in the ground, the metal rusted and corroded by time.

You're already kneeling down and reaching for it when Wolffe pulls you back.

"Let me go first," he says.

You huff and stand back, crossing your arms. You don't bother to protest. It's not worth the energy, and it's obvious that Wolffe won't be persuaded.

Wolffe kneels down, and you watch as he lifts the hatch, yanking it open with a grunt. You can see him hesitate, but after a moment, he lowers himself inside.

There's a long pause, and then he calls up. "Clear."

The ladder is slick and rusted, and you cling tightly to the rungs as you descend. You finally make it down, and your feet hit the concrete floor with a soft thump. Wolffe is at your side as soon as you're stable, his helmet sweeping over you from head to toe, his hand on your elbow.

You roll your eyes, but your annoyance is tinged with fondness.

"I'm fine," you say, trying to brush the hair out of your face. Your ponytail has come loose, and the wet strands cling to your face.

Wolffe just nods, but he doesn't move away. Instead, his hands come up, and he gently pushes the hair out of your eyes. His thumb brushes over the curve of your cheek, and he lingers for a moment before he drops his hand.

The movement is quick, so quick that you're not sure if you imagined it. But Wolffe's thumb was warm against the skin of your cheek, and the feeling lingers.

You're about to say something, but he's already turning away, moving to inspect the bunker. You let out a breath, and then shake yourself, pushing down the feeling in your chest.

The bunker is small and dark, barely illuminated by the faint glow from the emergency lights. There are crates scattered around, and a couple old terminals along the far wall. You can see the silhouettes of worker droids, but they're so covered in cobwebs and rust that they've long been rendered inoperable. A thick durasteel door is on the opposite wall, leading to another part of the facility.

"Stay here," Wolffe says, heading for the door.

You frown. "Why?"

"There could be enemies in there," he replies, already pulling his blaster.

“There isn’t,” you insist. You try to peer through the doorway, but it's too dark to make anything out. "If there were, I would sense it."

"I still need to check."

You cross your arms, letting out an annoyed sigh. You hate feeling useless, especially when you're a general, but you can't fault Wolffe for wanting to be cautious. It's the exact kind of behavior that has earned him his reputation.

"Fine," you mutter. You walk over to one of the terminals, trying to get it to turn on as you hear Wolffe wrench the door open.

It takes a few moments, but the terminal finally hums to life, the screen flickering before glowing a dull green. There's a few old files on there, some reports and logs, but you can't access them without the proper password. You didn’t bring your slicing kit, and even if you did, the terminal is far too old to use it.

Wolffe's voice floats in from the other room. "Clear!"

You stand and stretch, wincing as the rainwater sloshes in your boots. "Anything interesting?"

"A few things," Wolffe replies. "Looks like they were testing some kind of weapons system."

"Weapons? On this planet?" You raise your eyebrows. "Who would be stupid enough to do that?"

“Stupid enough, or desperate enough," he says. He walks back into the room, prying his helmet off his head and tossing it on a nearby crate. He looks at you, and his expression softens. "Find anything useful?"

You gesture to the terminal. "Some logs. I can't access them, though. Do you have the data drive? It’s a long shot, but it might be compatible.”

Wolffe pulls the data drive out from the pouch at his waist, handing it to you. It's a slim cylinder, the silver metal shiny and unblemished. You plug it in, and the terminal makes a faint beeping noise, the screen flickering before a login window appears.

"Got it," you say, typing in a command.

"Good work."

“Don't sound so surprised."

Wolffe huffs, and you hear the sound of footsteps as he comes up behind you. He stands next to you, and the two of you watch the progress bar creep along the screen, the connection to the nearest satellite weak, but stable.

"Looks like we might have to wait a while," he says, resting a hand on the edge of the terminal as he peers over your shoulder. His voice is deep and rough, and it rumbles against you. You're pressed up against his chest, and you can feel the warmth of him, his body heat soaking through his armor and into your skin.

You swallow, trying to keep your breathing steady. "Looks like."

It's almost unnerving how quickly you fall back into this pattern. Wolffe hasn't even touched you yet, not really, but your skin feels too tight and hot. You're hyper aware of him, every movement, every breath. You've never wanted him this much, and it scares you.

The two of you have a complicated history. Before you were knighted, you and Wolffe were... close. Not lovers, but not quite friends, either. It was difficult for the both of you to define the nature of your relationship, but you were certainly more than coworkers. Master Plo had always said that you were a good influence on him, that you tempered his rough edges, but the truth was that he had tempered yours. You were reckless and impulsive, and Wolffe grounded you, kept you focused. You needed each other, in a way.

But when you were knighted, you were sent away, and you haven't seen each other since.

And now...

Well.

The progress bar continues to crawl across the screen, the green light flickering and casting an eerie glow. Wolffe lets out a frustrated sigh.

"This is taking too long," he says, stepping away from you. He turns, and his gaze falls on the crates scattered around the room. He goes over and begins inspecting them, his fingers prying the lids open.

"You're such a grouch," you tell him with a laugh, leaning against the terminal and watching him work.

He snorts. "And you're a brat."

"I didn't choose the mission, Wolffe,” you say, rolling your eyes. "Besides, there are worse places we could be."

"This place is a shithole."

"Maybe, but at least we're not in the storm."

"Hm."

There's the clang of a lid hitting the floor, and then the sound of metal scraping. Wolffe stands, a couple of water canisters in his hand.

"I found some water," he calls over. "And some ration packs. Enough to last us a few days, if we have to."

"Well, hopefully it won't come to that," you say as you turn back to the terminal. "I'd hate for you to have to put up with me for that long."

"It's not so bad."

You smile to yourself, ducking your head so that he can't see. "Don't lie. We both know you'd rather be anywhere else."

"I didn't say that,” he says, and his tone is oddly serious.

"Oh."

Wolffe doesn't say anything after that, and the silence stretches on, the only sound the whir of the terminal as it processes the data. There's a sudden loud crack of thunder, and the sound of rain drumming on the roof of the bunker is louder than before. You wince at the sound as you start to parse through the local files on the terminal, searching for a map. 

It's difficult to focus on the task at hand. The room is small, and you're hyper aware of Wolffe moving around. He's still investigating, and you hear him rustling around in the crates, the sound of the lids being opened and shut. You try to pay attention to the screen, but you're not able to concentrate.

"You okay?"

You blink and realize that Wolffe is standing right behind you.

"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?" you reply, turning around to face him.

He crosses his arms, his brow furrowed in concern. "You've been staring at the same file for ten minutes."

You flush, embarrassed, and quickly exit out of the menu. "I was just..."

You trail off. You were just what? Trying to figure out what you're doing? Trying to decide how to act around him, when everything is so different now?

Wolffe doesn't seem convinced, and his frown deepens.

"I'm fine, Wolffe," you mutter.

He scoffs, shaking his head. "Don't bullshit me, jet'ika. I've known you for too long."

Jet'ika. Little Jedi.

The nickname was given to you when you first met, and Wolffe had called you that ever since. It didn't matter that you were already an adult back then, nearly twice as old as he was, or that you were a full-fledged knight now. It was just part of the banter the two of you had, and the fondness in the nickname made your chest warm.

"I'm not—" you begin, but the words die in your throat as you meet his eyes. His stare feels like a physical weight, and your stomach clenches as your gaze flicks over his face. The scar, the dark circles under his eyes, the harsh lines of his face. All the changes that time had wrought.

You've thought about this man almost constantly since you left, but now that he's in front of you, you feel almost... intimidated.

"You look tired," Wolffe says after a moment, his voice low and gruff.

"That's... a little rude," you say.

"I'm just saying." He shrugs, and then reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His hand lingers, and you let out a quiet sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing.

"Fine," you huff. "I'm tired, and I’m freezing, and these robes aren't exactly made for the weather. But we're stuck here, and it's not like there's anything we can do about it."

"Thought so,” he replies, his voice smug. His hand drifts down to take the hem of your robes between his fingers. He gives them a little tug. "You know, you could always take off those wet robes."

You know he's teasing, but the suggestion still sends a jolt of heat through you. You glance up, meeting his eyes. There's an intensity in his gaze, and you have a feeling that he knows exactly what he's doing.

"Oh yeah?" you ask, unable to keep the husky tone out of your voice. You grin, giving him a sly smile. "You think so?"

"Yes, sir."

You let out a breathy laugh, and Wolffe's mouth quirks in a half-smile. It's been a long time since you've flirted with him, but it seems like he hasn't lost his touch. You can feel the tension crackling between the two of you. It's always been like this, and you can't deny that there's a part of you that wishes he would just pull you into his arms and kiss you senseless.

But you know it wouldn't be that simple. There are complications, complications that the two of you can't ignore. It's why you haven't acted on the feelings between you, why you've tried to forget them.

You're a Jedi Knight now. And Wolffe is a Clone Marshal Commander.

Neither one of you have the freedom to be together.

Still, though, you can't help but tease him.

"Well," you say, slowly taking off your robes, "if you insist."

It’s not as if you’re revealing anything by allowing your outer robe to slide down your shoulders. You’re still wearing armor, after all. But the effect is still the same, and you can see his eyes roaming over your body, lingering on the way your leggings cling to your thighs, the curve of your ass.

You smirk and set the wet material aside. "Better?"

"Yeah," he replies, his voice a low rasp.

You're tempted to tease him further, to see how far you can push him. But you know that there's only so far you can go before one of you breaks, and you're not sure either of you are ready to face the consequences.

So instead, you turn back to the terminal, trying to distract yourself.

The storm rages on, the thunder shaking the bunker. After a few minutes, you start to shiver. The room is cold and damp, and the temperature has dropped as the storm worsens. You wrap your arms around yourself, and the armor on your forearms isn't doing much to warm you up.

Wolffe steps closer, and his hand brushes against your arm.

"You're shivering," he says, frowning.

"Yeah, I'm cold."

He doesn't say anything. He just takes off his gauntlets and tosses them on the floor. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he starts undoing the straps and buckles of his armor, pulling it off and stacking the pieces on the floor next to him. You don't understand what he's doing until he pulls his chestplate off and drops it, and then wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you against his chest.

You don't resist, allowing yourself to lean into him. The undersuit he wears beneath his armor is made from a thick, insulated material, and the heat of him seeps through the thin fabric of your tunic. He's so warm, and you relax, letting out a content sigh.

"That better?" he asks, his breath warm against your ear. You shiver at the sensation.

"Yeah," you say, closing your eyes. He snorts, his breath fanning over the top of your head. You can't stop the small smile from tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Thanks."

The two of you stand like that for a while, his arms wrapped around your waist. You try to keep working on the data, but it's difficult to focus with him so close. His chest is pressed against your back, and every time you breathe, the soft swell of his pecs is against your shoulder blades. You can't help but let your mind wander, imagining what he looks like under the armor, the planes of his chest and the ridges of his abdomen. You've always had a fascination with the strength of the clones, and Wolffe is no exception.

Wolffe doesn't move, his arms staying looped around your waist. His hands rest on your hips, and he shifts occasionally, his thumb stroking over the jut of your hip. After a while, he rests his chin on the top of your head, his stubble scratching at your scalp.

"Are you warm enough?" he murmurs, his breath stirring the hairs on the top of your head.

You hesitate. Wolffe runs hotter than most humans, his enhanced genetics making him a living furnace. You started to feel warm a while ago, and the air inside the bunker is stifling. But you can't deny that you don't mind having his arms wrapped around you, and you're reluctant to give up his touch.

"Not yet," you say, a hint of cheekiness in your voice.

He huffs, and his arms tighten around your waist. His fingers press into your sides, the pressure sending a shiver down your spine.

"Don't test me, jet'ika,” he grumbles, and his breath fans over the shell of your ear.

"Why not?"

"You know why."

His words send a jolt of heat through you, and you squirm against him. You feel his grip tighten on your waist, his hands flexing to keep you in place.

He’s right. You do. But down here, away from the prying eyes of the Council and the GAR, it's easy to forget all of the reasons why you shouldn't be with him. You can almost imagine a future where the two of you could be together, one where the war doesn't exist.

Almost.

"I know," you murmur at last, and you feel him relax slightly.

"Good."

There's a pause, and the air grows heavier, the tension becoming more palpable. You can feel the press of his chest against your back, and his hands have moved, his fingers tracing idle patterns over the skin of your hip. His nose finds the curve of your neck, and you can feel him breathing, the tickle of his breath on the sensitive skin of your nape.

You let out a sigh, letting yourself sink back into him. Your eyes drift shut, and you relax against his chest, giving in to the comfort of his touch. He's so warm, and it's so nice to be held. You can’t help but imagine what it would be like if things were different. If you weren't a Jedi, and he wasn't a clone. If the two of you had met in another life, another universe. If the two of you could just be.

You spend a long time like that, standing in the circle of his arms. The storm is raging outside, and the bunker is dark and cold, but his presence is enough to make you feel warm and safe.

Eventually, Wolffe pulls away, and the two of you move apart. The chill in the air is sharp against your skin, and you miss his warmth immediately. You want to lean back into him, to bury yourself in his embrace, but you resist.

You turn to face him, and he meets your gaze, his eyes dark.

"Come on," he says, his tone gruff. "Let's see what else we can find."

You nod, trying to ignore the way your heart clenches as you watch him put his armor back on, his back to you. You know it's for the best, but it still hurts. You shake yourself, pushing down the sadness. It's not a productive emotion, and it won't help the situation.

"There could be old tech down there," he continues. "It could be worth checking out."

"You're right," you say, forcing yourself to smile. "We might as well see if we can find anything useful."

You follow him deeper into the facilityy, taking note of the way his shoulders are tense, the way his helmet constantly sweeps the corridor, searching for any sign of danger.

The bunker is even colder now, and you shiver as you descend further underground. Wolffe leads the way, his flashlight cutting through the gloom and outshining the light of your saber.

After a while, you come across a door, the metal rusted and caked with grime.

"Think this is worth checking out?" Wolffe asks, looking at you.

"Could be," you reply, inspecting the door. "Looks like an old storage area. We should be able to find some supplies in there, at least."

Wolffe nods, and he grabs the handle, wrenching the door open. There's a faint creak of metal, and the sound of dust being disturbed. He nudges you aside, his arm brushing against yours.

"Wait here," he says. "Let me check it first."

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Really, Wolffe?"

"Really."

"Fine."

Wolffe gives you a look, his helmet dipping down toward you. He doesn't move until you nod, and then he's stepping forward, disappearing into the darkness. You hear his footsteps receding, and then the sounds of crates being shifted and opened.

A few moments later, he comes back, his flashlight sweeping over the doorframe.

“What is it?” you ask, your eyes tracking his movement.

“Looks like a med bay. Nothing useful, anyways. Just a cot and some storage lockers. We should keep going, see if we can find anything else."

"Yeah," you say, and you let out a sigh. "Yeah, okay."

The two of you continue to search, but the other rooms are just as empty and abandoned as the first. The bunker seems to be a relic from the past, a forgotten piece of history.

Finally, after what feels like hours of searching, the two of you make your way back to the entrance. You can still hear the storm raging above, the thunder rattling the metal hatch.

"We'll have to wait it out," Wolffe says, and you can hear the frustration in his voice. "The ship can't land until the storm passes."

"Great." You groan, rubbing your forehead. "I'm sorry, Wolffe. I know this is a waste of time."

"It's not your fault, jet'ika. It's the kriffing weather. It'll blow over soon, and then we can get the hell off this planet."

You let out a breath and turn away, trying to quell the frustration that's bubbling up inside of you. You can't help but feel as though you're failing at your first official assignment as a general, that you're letting Wolffe down. It was a simple mission, and you can't even complete it properly.

"Hey."

Wolffe's hand lands on your shoulder, and he gives you a gentle squeeze.

"We'll be fine," he says. "It's not your fault. These things happen."

"Yeah, but—"

"Stop," he interrupts, and the harshness of his tone makes you jump. "Just stop."

"Okay, okay," you mutter. "Sorry."

He shakes his head, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. His thumb rubs soothing circles against your skin, and you feel the tension start to drain out of you.

"You're always too hard on yourself." His voice is softer now, and his grip on your neck loosens. "This is hardly the worst thing that could've happened."

You huff, leaning back against his chest. You can't deny that the contact is comforting, that his touch is grounding.

"Maybe," you murmur, and he lets out a sigh, his fingers digging into the skin of your neck.

"No 'maybe'. We'll be fine, and we'll get out of here as soon as the storm passes."

"Okay, Wolffe," you whisper, letting yourself relax into his hold. "You're right."

"Of course I am."

"You're also insufferable."

"And yet, you put up with me."

"For some reason, I do."

He snorts, his breath warm against the back of your neck. "Must be my winning personality."

You laugh, and Wolffe's hand slides down your back, coming to rest on your hip. You shiver at the contact, your skin tingling where his palm presses against you, and you can feel him tense up behind you.

"Sorry," he murmurs, but he doesn't remove his hand.

"It's okay," you reply, and the two of you stand in silence for a long moment. The only sound is the storm outside, the thunder rolling and the rain pounding against the metal hatch.

"Are you still cold?" he asks eventually, and the rumble of his voice against your back sends a shiver down your spine.

"A little," you reply, and he sighs.

"Come on," he says. "Let's get you warmed up."

Before you can ask what he means, he's pulling you back down the corridor. He leads you back to the first room, the one with the bed and the storage lockers.

"What are you doing?" you ask, and he lets go of your hand as he moves to one of the lockers.

"Found something earlier," he replies, and he pulls open the door. There are a few blankets and pillows inside, and he starts gathering them up. He tosses them onto the bed before he starts to unclip his armor, and your cheeks flush when you realize what he's doing.

"Wolffe, I don't—"

"Get over here," he says, and there's no room for argument in his tone.

You hesitate for a moment, but then he shoots you a look, and you obey. You cross the room, and he helps you remove your armor, placing the pieces carefully on the floor alongside his. The sight of the plastoid strewn about together makes something inside of you stir, and you quickly turn your attention to the bed.

The sheets are thin and worn, but they're soft and clean. Wolffe takes one of the blankets and wraps it around your shoulders, his hands lingering.

"Thank you," you murmur, and he nods, stepping back. He turns away and busies himself with the bedding, fluffing the pillows and spreading the blankets out. It's strangely domestic, and it makes something inside of you ache.

After a few minutes, he's finished, and he gestures to the bed.

"Come on," he says, his voice rough.

The mattress creaks as the two of you climb in, and it's not as uncomfortable as you expected. Wolffe lies on his back, and you tuck yourself against his side, resting your head on his chest. He pulls the blankets up over the two of you, and the warmth is immediate.

"Better?" he asks, and you hum in agreement.

"Yeah, much."

"Good."

You can hear his heartbeat, strong and steady. You rest your hand on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. He's warm and solid beneath you, and you can't help but enjoy the sensation of his body against yours.

"This is nice," you murmur before you can stop yourself.

"Yeah," he replies, his voice a low rumble.

You nuzzle into him, and you feel his arm wrap around your shoulders, tugging you closer. The two of you lie like that for a while, neither of you saying anything. The sound of the storm is muffled, and the quiet is almost peaceful.

You know you shouldn't be doing this, that it's crossing a line that shouldn't be crossed. But it's hard to care about that right now, not when you're warm and comfortable, wrapped in his arms.

"I'm sorry I dragged you out here," you say, your voice soft.

"It's not your fault," Wolffe replies, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your shoulder. "I volunteered. We're soldiers, jet'ika. We go where we're told."

"Still."

He huffs. "Still, I've been stuck with worse people."

"Gee, thanks, Wolffe." You roll your eyes.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah."

The two of you fall silent again, the only sounds the rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. You know you should leave it there, but the words are on the tip of your tongue, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt them out.

"Why did you volunteer? Why didn't you send someone else?"

Wolffe's hand stills, and you shift, pressing your cheek to his chest. You can feel the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat, and it picks up speed.

There's a long pause, and then Wolffe speaks again, his voice gruff.

"Because I wanted to see you," he admits, and your heart skips a beat.

"Oh," you say, your throat tightening. "Oh."

He clears his throat, his hand starting to stroke your shoulder again.

"I haven't seen you in a long time, jet'ika."

Your stomach twists, and the ache in your chest grows stronger. You press your lips together, trying to hide your reaction.

"You shouldn't have done that," you murmur.

"I know."

You sit up, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you can look at him. His face is half-shadowed, the dim light from the corridor casting strange patterns on his skin. His eyes are dark, and there's a vulnerability in them that you haven't seen in a long time.

"Wolffe, we can't do this. It's—"

"I know," he interrupts. "I know."

He sighs, reaching up and cupping the side of your face. His palm is rough and warm, and the calluses scratch pleasantly against your cheek, his thumb brushing over the curve of your jaw.

"But I had to see you," he says, his voice rough. "Even if it was just once. I've missed you."

Your heart clenches at his words, and you feel tears stinging at the corner of your eyes. You can't deny that you've missed him, too. That the thought of being with him has kept you awake at night, has made you ache in ways you can't name.

You lean into his touch, unable to resist. "I've missed you, too," you whisper.

He pulls you closer, his hand moving to the back of your neck. His grip is firm, and you can feel his desperation in the way he holds you. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours, and the two of you breathe in sync, the air thick between you.

"Wolffe," you say, your voice strained.

"I know," he replies.

His fingers trail down your neck, his touch sending sparks of electricity across your skin. His hand moves lower, his thumb brushing over the curve of your collarbone. Your breath catches, and you can't stop the small sound that escapes you.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he murmurs. "About what it would be like, if we could..."

"If we could be together," you finish, your voice barely a whisper, and you reach up to trace the line of his jaw. His stubble is rough under your fingers, and you can feel the heat radiating off him.

"Yeah," he says, and the sadness in his voice breaks your heart.

You want to tell him that it's not possible, that there's nothing either of you can do, but the words die in your throat. He's so close, and the longing is too strong, too powerful.

"Me, too," you whisper, and then his mouth is on yours.

Wolffe's kiss is desperate, hot and demanding, and you can't stop the moan that slips out as the ache inside you finally, finally eases. Wolffe's hands move to your waist, and he pulls you into his lap, the blanket falling to the side. Your thighs bracket his hips, and you can feel the press of him between your legs, the heat and hardness of him.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue swiping against the seam of your lips. You part for him, allowing him entrance, and he groans, the sound rumbling in his chest. His hands move lower, his palms splayed over the curve of your ass, and he grips you tightly, his fingers digging into the flesh.

You arch into him, and his touch sends shivers down your spine, goosebumps erupting on your skin. He's everywhere, his scent and his taste overwhelming, and you're lost in the sensation of him, his kiss driving away all rational thought.

You know you should stop this, that this is crossing a line that can't be uncrossed, but the thought is fleeting, and soon, all you can think about is Wolffe, the heat of him and the feel of him under your fingertips.

You grind down onto him, and the two of you let out a groan in unison, the friction sending a spark of pleasure through you. Wolffe's hands tighten on your hips, and he rocks up, his erection pressing into the apex of your thighs.

"Fuck," he growls, his hand tangling in your hair. He pulls your head back, exposing your neck, and he presses his mouth to the hollow of your throat. You gasp, your eyes fluttering closed, and you feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin.

He trails kisses down your neck, his teeth scraping along your pulse point. You shudder, the sensation overwhelming, and your nails dig into his shoulders.

"Wolffe," you breathe, and he pulls back, searching your face.

"What do you want?" he asks, his voice a low rumble.

You swallow, and his eyes track the movement, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

"You. I want you," you gasp, and his grip on your hair tightens.

"Be specific," he growls, his eyes blazing.

You squirm in his lap at his command, grinding down on his cock. He hisses, his jaw clenching, and you can see the tendons straining in his neck.

"I want your mouth on me. I want you to touch me. I want— fuck, Wolffe, I want everything." You can't stop the words from spilling out, and you feel a flush creeping up your cheeks. "I want to pretend that you're mine, just for a little while."

He lets out a shaky breath, his chest heaving.

"Yeah, jet'ika. Fuck. You can have whatever you want."

"Kiss me," you whisper, and his lips crash onto yours.

His kiss is even more frantic now, and you can feel the heat rising between the two of you. He bites at your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, and you moan, your hips jerking. You're overwhelmed by him, his scent and his taste and the heat of his body.

You feel as though you're burning up, the heat of him searing through the fabric of your clothing, and the urge to rip the layers of cloth between the two of you away is nearly unbearable. You break the kiss, panting, and the two of you stare at each other, both of you trying to catch your breath.

Wolffe's eyes are dark and hungry, and there's a flush high on his cheeks, his pupils blown wide.

"Take off your shirt," he growls, and you don't hesitate.

You yank your tunic off, and the cool air of the room is a shock against your bare skin. By the time you've thrown it to the floor, Wolffe's pulled off his own.

His chest is broad and muscular, and the sight of his naked skin makes your mouth water. You've always known him to be bigger than the other clones, but seeing him like this is different. You've never seen him like this before, and the desire coursing through you is almost primal.

Wolffe seems just as eager, and he stares at you with blatant hunger, his eyes raking over your form. You reach out and run your fingers through the hair on his chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch, and he grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away.

"Jet'ika," he murmurs, his eyes hooded. "Let me see you."

You nod, swallowing thickly, and then the two of you are moving. He reaches up and undoes the bindings around your breasts, letting the fabric fall to the side. The air is cool against your nipples, and they stiffen, the sensation sending a shiver through you.

Wolffe's eyes darken, and his hands move to cup your breasts, his palms rough against your sensitive skin. You moan, arching into his touch, and his thumbs brush over your nipples, the friction making them pebble.

"Fuck," he mutters, and he pinches one of the stiff peaks, making you gasp. "So pretty. Look at you."

He continues his exploration, his hands roaming over your skin. He kneads your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your nipples, and you let out a shuddering breath. You can't stop the whine that escapes you as he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging and squeezing. It's a delicious sort of pain, and you grind down, your clit throbbing.

Wolffe smirks, his eyes dark and heated.

"And so sensitive," he murmurs.

"Please," you whimper, arching into his touch.

"Patience," he says, and he pulls you closer. He wraps his arms around your waist and shifts so that you're lying on your back, and he's looming over you, his knees straddling your thighs. "If we're going to do this, I'm going to take my time with you. I've been waiting a long time for this."

You're tempted to tell him that it's the same for you, but the words are lost as his mouth finds your nipple. He teases and sucks, his tongue laving over the sensitive flesh. You moan, your hands gripping his shoulders. His hands are everywhere, touching and stroking, and you're lost in the sensation of finally having him so close.

It's only when his teeth nip the underside of your breast that you're jerked out of your reverie.

"Wolffe," you hiss, and he chuckles, the vibration sending shivers down your spine.

"Sorry," he mutters, pressing a kiss to the spot. His tongue soothes the sting, and the dual sensations make your head spin. "Got a little carried away."

"It's okay," you pant. "Feels good."

"It'll bruise," he warns.

You shrug, running your hands over his back. "I don't care."

He looks up, his gaze searching. You meet his eyes, and he gives you a crooked smile.

"In that case..."

You whine as Wolffe presses his teeth to your skin again, and the pain makes your cunt clench around nothing. You've never been into this before, but the idea of Wolffe marking you, of being able to look down and see evidence of his claim, makes your blood sing.

"Fuck," you gasp, and he hums against you, his mouth hot and wet.

"Gonna mark you up, jet'ika," he mutters, and then his teeth are sinking into your skin, and you keen, his name tumbling from your lips.

"Oh, kriff. Wolffe!"

His mouth travels across your chest, leaving a trail of bruises and bite marks in his wake. The storm outside is a distant rumble, overpowered by the sounds of your gasps and moans, the slick sounds of his mouth against your skin, the harsh pants of his breath.

The heat of him is overwhelming, and your senses are on fire, the pain and pleasure intertwined, the two of you lost in a haze of lust. You can't stop the urge to rock your hips, desperate for some kind of friction, and you grind against him, his cock hard against your stomach.

"So good," you moan, and his hand slides between your thighs, cupping the heat of you.

"Impatient," he mutters, and he nips at the soft skin below your navel. You shudder, your hands fisting in his hair, and he gives a low chuckle.

"Need you," you plead, and he looks up at you, his expression heated.

"You have me," he murmurs, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut. You swallow thickly, trying to ignore the way they make your heart skip a beat, and the ache inside of you grows.

Wolffe leans back, his eyes roaming over your body, his gaze burning. He strokes the skin of your stomach, his fingertips tracing over the scars and marks. Even in the low light, the evidence of his attention is evident, and the sight of the red and purple marks against your skin makes something possessive flare in his eyes.

"Such a pretty little thing," he murmurs. "I've always wanted to see you like this."

"Wolffe, please."

"Shh," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the crease of your hip. "I'm getting there."

His fingers dip below the waistband of your leggings, and you lift your hips, helping him peel the fabric off. You're left in just your underwear, and you can feel the wetness soaking the fabric, the need inside you almost unbearable.

Wolffe sits back on his heels, and he swears under his breath as his gaze settles on the apex of your thighs. He runs a hand through his hair, his eyes dark.

"Look at you," he breathes, and his fingers ghost over your sex, the feather-light touch making you shiver. His thumb hooks into your underwear, and he tugs, the silken fabric brushing over your clit. “I don’t think this is GAR regulation, jet'ika,”

"It's not," you admit, your cheeks heating.

He groans, his eyes falling shut. "Fucking hells."

He tugs again, the fabric slipping between your folds. It's damp, and you whimper, the sensation almost too much. You can't remember the last time you were this aroused, this turned on. The sight of Wolffe above you, his gaze dark and intense, is almost enough to make you come, and he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Soaked," he mutters, and the rasp in his voice sends a shudder through you.

"For you," you gasp, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

He leans down and presses his mouth to your clothed sex, the warmth of his breath fanning over you. His stubble is rough against your inner thighs, and you moan, his name falling from your lips.

He pushes the fabric aside, and then his tongue is sliding along your folds, the flat of it pressing against your clit. You cry out, and he groans, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. He licks at you, his tongue hot and slick, and the sounds are obscene, his mouth wet and messy.

"Taste so good," he rasps, and then his fingers are joining his mouth, spreading your folds. He flicks his tongue over your clit, the tip tracing the sensitive bud.

You cry out, your hips jerking, and he groans, his hand wrapping around your thigh and holding you in place.

"Needy little thing," he murmurs against you.

"Only for you," you whimper, and the truth of it hits you like a slap to the face. It's never been like this with anyone else, the need for release so intense, the urge to give yourself over to him so strong. You've never felt like this before, and the thought scares you as much as it excites you.

"That's right," he mutters, and then he's pressing his mouth to you again, his lips sealing around your clit.

The pleasure is white-hot, and you can't stop the string of curses that spill from your lips. He's relentless, his tongue working over your clit, his lips and teeth adding a delicious edge of pain to the pleasure. It isn't long before you're trembling, your orgasm coiling tight in your belly, and you gasp his name, the sound falling from your lips like a prayer.

"Close," you manage to say, your breath coming in ragged pants.

He pulls back, and his thumb replaces his tongue, his mouth moving to your inner thigh. You whimper at the loss, and he nips at the sensitive skin, the sting making you jump.

"Not yet," he murmurs. "I'm not done with you."

You groan, your hands tangling in his hair. You tug at the strands, trying to pull him back, but he's stronger than you, and he ignores your attempts to get him to move. He bites at your thigh, his teeth leaving more marks on your skin, and then he's pulling away, slipping two fingers inside of you.

You gasp at the sudden stretch, the feeling of being filled after so long without it making your toes curl. You're so wet that there's almost no resistance, and his fingers slip in easily, the glide smooth.

"So fucking tight," he rasps, and you groan as his thumb presses against your clit. "You're going to feel so good around my cock."

The thought is enough to make you moan, and your inner walls clench around his fingers, the muscles fluttering. He chuckles, the sound rough and low as his lips trail across your hip.

"You like that, jet'ika?"

"Yes," you hiss.

He adds another finger, and the stretch is almost too much. It's been so long since you've had anyone inside of you, and his fingers are thicker than yours, his hands larger. You clench around him, and he hisses, his forehead resting against your thigh.

"So good," he murmurs, and he starts to move, his fingers sliding in and out of you. "Look at you, taking my fingers like such a good girl."

You whimper, the praise going straight to your clit. You rock your hips, matching the rhythm of his fingers, and the sound of his palm slapping against your cunt is almost enough to make you come undone.

"Just like that," he whispers, and his mouth returns to your sex, his tongue pressing against your clit. He swirls the muscle around the swollen bud, the pressure just enough to make your head spin. You're so close, the heat in your abdomen threatening to explode, and he can tell.

"You're going to come," he mutters, and his fingers speed up, curling inside of you. The angle changes, and the tip of his finger presses against a spot that makes you cry out. "You're going to come on my fingers, and then I'm going to fuck you until you're screaming."

"Yes," you moan, your head falling back. "Yes, please, Wolffe. I'm so close."

"Then come," he growls. "Come for me, jet'ika."

And you do, his command sending you over the edge. Your climax crashes into you, the pleasure blinding, and your whole body trembles, your inner walls spasming around his fingers. You sob his name, and his mouth moves, sucking at your clit, his fingers milking your release.

The sensation is too much, and you try to twist away, but his free hand moves to your hip, holding you in place. He works you through your orgasm, his tongue and fingers drawing out your pleasure until you're trembling and oversensitive, the sensation almost painful.

"Stop, please," you beg, and he does, pulling back and sitting up.

"Okay, okay," he pants. "That's it. Good girl."

Your cunt clenches at his words, the muscles still twitching. You take a few deep breaths, trying to regain control of yourself, and Wolffe slips his fingers out of you, the movement slow and gentle.

"Good?" he asks, and you nod.

"Yeah," you sigh. "Yeah, I'm good."

He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks, the sight making your cheeks heat. He groans, his eyes closing, and he savors the taste of you, his tongue licking away every drop.

"So fucking good," he murmurs, and his hand cups the back of your head, pulling you into a bruising kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, the flavor salty and sweet, and you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair.

The kiss is rough and hungry, the two of you clinging to each other, and the urgency returns, the need for more rising up inside of you.

"Please," you whisper against his lips. "I need you."

"Yeah," he rasps. "Yeah, I know."

You can't help the whine that slips out as he pulls away, his hands reaching for the waistband of his blacks, and he chuckles, the sound strained.

"Soon, cyar'ika. I'm right here."

The promise makes something inside of you clench, and you can't tear your eyes away as he pulls his briefs down, his erection springing free. He's thick and long, the head leaking pre-cum, and you swallow hard against the saliva pooling in your mouth. You want to taste him, to feel him stretching your throat, but that's not what either of you need right now. What you need is him buried deep inside you, fucking you until you can't remember your own name, until you can’t remember the world outside the two of you.

He kicks off his clothes, and he kneels between your legs, his hands moving to your waist.

"Let's get you out of these," he says, his voice a low rumble.

His knuckles brush against your clit as he slips his fingers into your underwear, and you gasp, your hips arching up. You feel exposed and vulnerable as he peels the damp fabric away, leaving you bare and naked before him, but the look on his face is one of reverence.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs, and the raw emotion in his voice makes your heart clench.

You reach up and cup his cheek, the gesture tender, and his eyes fall closed, his breath hitching. He turns his face into your palm, his lips brushing against the skin.

"Wolffe," you whisper.

"Jet'ika," he murmurs against you.

"I'm ready."

He opens his eyes, the gold of his iris gleaming in the dim light. There's an intensity in his gaze, a fire that burns, and he wraps a hand around his cock, stroking himself. You watch, transfixed, as he teases himself, the head turning purple and shiny with pre-cum.

He reaches out and presses his hand against your stomach, his palm flat and hot against your skin. He rubs it in circles, and the touch is soothing, the ache inside you easing. You take a deep breath, and his nostrils flare, the muscles in his neck tensing.

"Tell me if it's too much," Wolffe says, his eyes searching yours. "I won't hurt you."

"I know," you murmur. "I trust you."

He leans down and presses his mouth to yours, the kiss soft and tender. It's a stark contrast to the urgency from before, and the gentleness makes your throat tighten. He pulls back, his hand still pressed against your stomach, and he reaches down, lining himself up.

"Ready?" he asks, and you nod.

"Yes."

He slides in slowly, the stretch almost too much. You let out a shuddering breath, trying to relax, and he kisses your temple, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on your thigh.

"Easy," he whispers.

It takes a moment, but you adjust to his size, the pressure lessening as your body accommodates him. He's hot and heavy inside you, his length reaching deeper than anyone ever has, and the fullness is delicious, the pleasure-pain making your eyes water.

"Good girl," he rasps, his hand moving up your stomach, his thumb brushing against the underside of your breast. You whine, and he hushes you, his hand continuing its path up to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands.

"Kriff," he groans, and the sound is pained. His eyes flutter shut, and his head drops down, his forehead pressed against yours. "You feel so good. Like you were made for me."

"Wolffe," you breathe, and he kisses you again, the contact searing.

He pulls out and then pushes back in, his movements slow and controlled. He's trembling, the tendons in his neck standing out, and you can see the effort it's taking him to hold back.

"Faster," you beg, and his hand tightens in your hair, the bite of pain making you moan.

"I don't want to hurt you," he grits out, his hips stuttering.

"You won't," you assure him, and the lie sits bitterly on your tongue.

Because it's not true, and you both know it. No matter how gentle he is, how careful he is, the fact remains that this is temporary, that the two of you can never be anything more than a stolen moment. You're going to hurt, and he's going to hurt, and the truth of it is enough to make you want to cry.

But Wolffe doesn't point it out, and neither do you. He does as you ask, his thrusts speeding up, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the small space. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, and his lips find yours, his tongue tracing the seam. You part for him, allowing him entrance, and his kiss is desperate and hungry, his fingers digging into your skin.

He fucks you with abandon, the two of you lost in a haze of pleasure and lust, the years of pent-up desire finally coming to the surface. He's everywhere, surrounding you, his scent and his taste and the weight of him pinning you to the mattress. You feel claimed, possessed, and the thought should scare you, but instead, it makes you feel safe.

His pace is punishing, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed, and you cling to him, your nails raking across his back. You can feel the sweat beading on his skin, the slick slide of him against you, and the pleasure is building, the heat in your belly threatening to consume you.

"Fuck," he growls, and his hand moves to the side of your face, cupping your cheek. "Look at me. I wanna see you when you come."

Your eyes flutter open, and his face is inches from yours, his eyes locked onto yours. There's an intensity in his gaze, a raw emotion that threatens to undo you.

"Wolffe," you whimper.

"That's it, cyar'ika," he says. "Let go."

And you do, the orgasm hitting you like a shockwave. It crashes over you, the pleasure white-hot, and your inner walls clench around him, the feeling of his cock rubbing against your sensitive spots enough to make your vision blur. You cry out, and his name is a chant on your lips, the syllables falling from your mouth over and over. The bliss so intense that it's almost painful, and you're lost in the feeling of him, the pleasure consuming you.

"So good," he mutters. "You're so good for me."

He fucks you through your release, his fingers gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, and his thrusts become frantic, his rhythm stuttering. You can tell he's close, and you tighten your grip on him, urging him on.

"Come on," you plead. "Come for me, Wolffe. Make me yours."

He groans at the desperation in your voice, and his hips snap forward, the force of his thrust pushing you up the mattress. You whine, and he grunts, his grip tightening.

"Say it again," he demands, his eyes burning.

"I'm yours," you repeat. "Yours, Wolffe. Always."

The sound that leaves him is a broken thing, the anguish in it clear. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin, and then he thrusts himself to the hilt. He groans, the sound muffled, and you feel his cock pulse, his release spilling inside you. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt, and you feel yourself coming undone again, a smaller, softer orgasm washing over you that makes your vision blur and your toes curl.

You cling to him, the two of you gasping and trembling, and the aftershocks roll over you, the pleasure making you shudder. You can't stop the tears that leak from the corners of your eyes, the realization that this is it, this is all you'll have of him, is too much to bear.

You feel him tense above you, his body rigid, and his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head as he presses his mouth to your temple.

"Wolffe," you whimper, and he murmurs something against your hair, something soft and sweet.

You don't hear him, but you can feel the shape of the words, and it makes the knot in your chest tighten, the pain threatening to consume you.

The two of you lie there, wrapped in each other's arms, and the minutes tick by, the only sound the rain pounding against the roof and your breathing. Your heart is breaking, the grief and sadness threatening to overwhelm you, and you close your eyes, the tears falling freely now.

Wolffe brushes them away, his touch gentle, and he pulls out, the loss of him almost unbearable. You whimper, the sound soft, and he kisses you again, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"Don't move," he murmurs.

You watch as he gets to his feet, his movements slow and stiff. A few minutes later, he returns with a wet cloth, and he wipes the evidence of your coupling from your skin. He's careful, the strokes gentle, and the act is so intimate that it makes the knot in your chest grow. He tosses the cloth to the floor, and then he's pulling you into his arms, his hands smoothing down your back.

You let out a sigh, your head resting on his chest. "Wolffe, I—"

"Don't."

You look up at him, and his expression is grim.

"Don't say anything."

"Wolffe—"

"This was a mistake," he says, his voice strained. "We shouldn't have done this."

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to argue. "It's too late now," you murmur.

"No, it's not. We can still pretend it didn't happen. Just..." He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "Just don't make it harder than it has to be."

The pain in his voice makes your heart ache, and you bury your face in his chest, unable to hold back the tears. He holds you tight, his arms wrapping around your shoulders, and the tenderness, the protectiveness, only makes you cry harder.

"Jet'ika," Wolffe says, his voice soft, "please. Please don't cry."

"I'm sorry," you choke out, "I just..."

"It's alright," he replies, and he cups your face, tilting your head back. His eyes search yours, and you can see the sorrow and regret in them, the pain he's trying to hide. "It's alright."

"I'm sorry," you say, wiping at the tears that are rolling down your cheeks. "I'm sorry, Wolffe. I can't... I can't do this. I can't pretend like this never happened. I can't keep pretending like I don't care about you."

He lets out a ragged sigh, and his thumb traces the line of your jaw.

"I know," he murmurs.

"I love you," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "I've always loved you."

His eyes widen, and the two of you sit in silence for a long moment, the confession hanging between you. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and you wait for him to react, to say something.

"You don't mean that," he says at last, his voice hoarse.

"I do."

He swallows hard, and you can see the conflict on his face, the war between what he wants and what he thinks is right. He closes his eyes, his fingers trailing down the curve of your neck.

"Fuck," he whispers.

"Wolffe," you say, and his eyes open, the gold of his iris burning.

"This is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever done," he mutters.

"What?"

"This," he says, and his hand comes up, gripping the back of your neck. "This is the dumbest thing I've ever done, and it's probably the worst decision I'll ever make."

You're frozen, his words hanging between the two of you. The room feels as though it's been turned upside down, and you're spinning, the world around you tilting.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying..." He hesitates, and then his expression hardens. "Fuck it."

And then he's kissing you, his lips hard against yours. The kiss is bruising, his teeth catching on your lower lip, and the sting is enough to make you gasp. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, and his fingers tangle in your hair, his grip tight. When you part, both of you are panting, and his gaze burns into yours.

"Wolffe," you breathe, "what—"

"I'm saying I love you too," he says, the words spilling out in a rush. "And I'm done pretending like I don't. I'm done lying to myself, to you. I'm done."

The words send a shock through you, and you stare at him, speechless. You open and close your mouth, and he gives you a rueful smile, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

"You love me," you say, and the words are thick in your throat.

"Yes," he murmurs.

"Even though..."

"Yeah," he replies, his voice low. "Even though."

"What do we do now?"

Wolffe sighs, and his fingers trail down your jaw, the touch gentle.

"We make the most of whatever time we have," he says. "And we don't look back."

"It's going to hurt," you whisper.

"I know."

"Can you live with that?"

"For you?" He looks at you, and the tenderness in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat. "Yes. I can."

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. The two of you sit there, your breaths mingling, and you take comfort in the warmth of his skin, the weight of his hand against the nape of your neck.

"Okay," you murmur. "Okay."

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you let out a shaky breath.

"Go to sleep, jet'ika," he says, his voice soft. "It's been a long day."

"Stay with me," you plead.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promises.

He pulls the blankets up over the two of you, and you close your eyes, letting the exhaustion take over. His warmth is comforting, the sound of his heartbeat a steady rhythm in your ear.

The rain continues to fall, and the room is filled with the sound of you breathing together. It’s peaceful, and for a brief moment, the two of you allow yourselves to believe that everything is going to be alright. That the universe isn't falling apart around you. That maybe, just maybe, the two of you can have this.

The truth, however, is a far more complicated one. And come morning, when the sun rises, you'll have to face it.

But as you drift off to sleep, held tight in his arms, you can't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, things will work out.

After all, there has to be some kind of a happy ending.

Even in a galaxy as cruel as this one.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

@kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak @lovelytech9902

@frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario @umekohiganbana

@resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano @burningnerdchild

@ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster

@lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777 @schrodingersraven

@megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean @bimboshaggy

@anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @ghostymarni

[brucewaynehater101]

love the idea of Tim thinking he’s being put through a ‘test’ of Bruce’s, when in fact it’s a real emergency. So when Tim like saves the whole batfam, he just goes “how did I score” to Bruce, finally making Bruce realize how deep the impact of his testing went in Tim’s brain

If Bruce was finally working at healing and redemption, then this is a great wake-up call for the man. There's a great amount of angst there. He should realize the errors of his ways and maybe acknowledge there's no way to fix the permanent mindset he instilled in a child. However, I don't think Bruce would outright notice anything wrong with Tim's behavior. They've established routines by now. The other kids, though? Their reaction would cue Bruce into how messed up it is.

A bit of a discret version of this would be Tim automatically filling out a mission report. Within the report, he lists his failures and mistakes he made on the mission. This could play out two ways.

One: another kid sees this and scoffs at Tim's perfectionism. It bubbles over into a fight where it reveals how Tim was constantly tested by Bruce with the imminent threat of being forced to quit and banned if he wasn't strong enough. Bruce couldn't stop Tim from being Robin, but he could make his life hell.

Two: Tim writes down the others' mistakes for improvement. This pisses someone off until someone eventually cues into this being an act of protection by Tim. He doesn't want them subjected to Bruce's training if they keep making the same mistakes.

Regardless, they find out how Bruce's constant testing, his trainings, and his treatment of Tim's Robin (and maybe even current treatment of Tim) has really screwed Tim up.

Another way to make this a great miscommunication angst would be Tim, post mission, not treating it with the seriousness it required. Everyone is down at the batcave trying to recover from their wounds and the trauma of what they've witnessed. Then Tim pipes up with a "how did I do, Batman?" Bruce automatically starts listing faults, and Tim just nods. Everyone else is floored because didn't they both just see that horrific shit that went down?

Tim is just high key dissociating to finish up protocol until he can go home and have a 5 hour long mental breakdown. Bruce is just finishing the list of protocols because it's a method of control and coping for him. It's also a habit.

[randoimago]

Could I request Aerith, Sephiroth, and Cloud with an s/o who loves cooking up a feast for them whenever they've done something amazing (which can be anything in s/o's eyes)?

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7

Character(s): Aerith, Cloud, Sephiroth

Note(s): I wrote Sephiroth as if during/before Crisis Core since I prefer his personality in that game! There aren't any spoilers though, just his personality not being obsessed with Jenova/Cloud.

Aerith

Idk if this is actually canon and I read it somewhere or my mind made it up, but I love the idea that Aerith can eat. Her metabolism is just insane. She daintily eats everything you made for her and gives you a bright smile afterwards, giving her compliments to the chef.

She just gets so happy whenever you show her all the food you made and say that she deserves it. Probably saves some for the others, but she is happy to sit down and eat.

With all the gardening and fighting and not dying she does, she really loves you making her feasts. You always know when she needs the little treat too!

Cloud

Makes the "?!" anime noise when he sees all the food. Being an ex-soldier, he does have a big appetite, but he doesn't expect you to be the one to cook him such a big meal.

He'd eat some of it then say he's done, only to pause if you give him puppy dog eyes. Then he sighs and eats the rest. Cloud does enjoy the food very much, he hasn't had anything home cooked in a while, but it's just so much and he doesn't want to weigh himself down because his body is digesting all of it.

He has had to try and stop you many times from just (in his eyes) randomly cooking him a feast because you thought he did well. All he did was open up a bit more to someone and he has to pull you to him to stop you from making a whole roast or something.

Sephiroth

There's amusement in his eyes the first time you make him such a grand meal. He just finished a mission and came home to this. You get a pat on the head as he thanks you and sits down, asking that you eat with him.

He wouldn't eat all of it, saving some to take as lunch or rations when he's out on the field again. Sephiroth does ask you what the occasion was and ends up shaking his head with amusement if you mention he did something small that you found amazing.

Has pondered aloud, teasingly, if you were trying to fatten him up with all the food you make him. He doesn't mind it, but it's just something very sweet and amusing. He'll give you a gently kiss to your forehead as thanks after each meal.

[ghostsstolemymoxie]

A request here for smut! enemies to lovers hot hate sex on a mission then people over the intercom back at the mansion here oops 🤭

AHHH OK I love this ideaaaa, just hoping I did it justice <3

【You're so gorgeous - then you start talkin'!】

Logan x F! Reader - Enemies to lovers: Hatefuck edition Divider credit @cafekitsune Tags: No use of Y/n, explicit content (18+, MDNI), unprotected p in v (be smarter than Logan and reader folks), rough sex, spitting, unintentional voyeurism, accidental exhibitionism Please don't click read more unless you're over 18 and willing to see 18+ content and the above tagged content. WC: 3k words

"He's the most arrogant, boorish, misogynistic, vile bastard I have ever met in my life!" You hissed down the comms, trying very hard to hide the scowl etched into your features. "Yes, but he's also your partner on this mission," Ororo replied, calmly, her voice crackling somewhat as it travelled into your ear through the wireless bud for your communications.

All around you, all you could hear was chatter, laughter and bawdy noises.

Serves you right, really. After all, you'd been so desperate to get back into the swing of things and get onto the missions since your injury, you had begged Charles to assign you the next mission, not even caring what it was.

Lo and behold, it leads to you and Logan being sent out on an intel-gathering mission at a casino just by the Canadian border. All you needed to do was listen out for some plan to do with Sentinels being built. Charles had been stingy with the details, though you weren't quite sure why. You supposed he'd given the brief more to Logan - the experienced X-man.

As though summoned by your distasteful thoughts, Logan soon joined you in the casino, already holding a glass in his hand. Whiskey, no doubt, with plenty of ice. He stepped up alongside you, glancing you up and down and taking in your black-tie attire with a smirk on his face. "You scrub up nice. Makes sense. You're only here as arm candy." He grumbled, taking a sip of his whiskey. In truth, it was a wonder that his muscles didn't burst free from the white suit he was wearing, but this was no time for gawking at the wonderful body attached to this awful man. "Has anyone ever told you that you're the worst person they've ever met?" You mock, even as you follow him to one of the tables. "Has anyone told you that you've got a smart mouth? That's not an attractive quality in a lady, y'know." Logan's retort was fast and icy, barbed in a way that only Logan's tone could be.

"Both of you, you need to focus on gathering intel, not on bickering." It was Scott's turn this time, shrill down the comms as he made sure that both of you heard. From the scowl on Logan's face, he heard perfectly.

A friend of Bolivar Trask was on the roulette table tonight - and apparently, he got loose lips after enough scotch. So, Logan took his seat at the same table, keeping his head down and focusing on looking inconspicuous, whilst you lingered at his side, playing the part of the pretty girlfriend attending alongside her man. Logan chugged the rest of his whiskey, holding out the glass to you. "Get me another one, won't you sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. God, that was the worst word he could use for you. It only made you angry. He had that stupid smirk on his face, too, that said he only knew how mad it made you. Despite his mockery though, you kept your composure, putting a smile on your pretty, painted lips. "Sure thing, hun." You said, leaning in, feigning a kiss on his cheek as you whispered: "Call me sweetheart again, and I'll cut your dick off."

He replied only with a scoff, as you headed to the bar, a scowl plastered on your face. The only way you knew it was because you glimpsed it in the mirror whilst waiting to be served. Once seen, it was schooled quickly, though that didn't stop a passerby from noticing.

Whilst you waited for the bartender, idly listening over your comms to hear whatever was being said at the roulette table, you barely noticed his presence, until he sided up right alongside you. He was a handsome guy, though regrettably not as handsome as your begrudging date for the evening, who remained at the table, unaware.

"Now, what could possibly make such a pretty face look so grumpy?" He asked, cooing the words so condescendingly. "I'm not grumpy." You reply, sourly, before forgetting that whilst you can always hear on comms, they can always hear you. A creak across the room sounds as Logan turns to look at you, and a look of something spreads across his face at the sight of the younger man quite obviously coming onto you. You didn't know what that something was, but it lit a strange, desperate spark in your stomach for just a brief moment.

Still, you needed to deal with the interloper first, so you turned back to him. "I'm kind of in a rush. I'm just here to get my partner a drink." "Partner, huh?" He chuckled. "I get it. Long-term relationship but no ring… has he convinced you that being partners is just as good as being married?"

He had clearly gotten the wrong end of the stick, though it was probably more your fault for saying partner rather than boyfriend. "It's not like that." You reply, trying to think of the best phrasing to get him to just leave you alone. "Then what's it like, gorgeous?"

The moron was grinning, missing the point as if he was a professional. All you could do was just roll your eyes and try to catch the bartender's attention. Sooner rather than later.

As you turned to speak to the bartender, the guy spoke up again, this time laying a hand on your arm as he did so. "Come on, Honey, you can tell me. I've been told I'm a wonderful listener. I've had my shoulders wet once or twice. I've got something else I'd love for you to get wet too."

The crudeness wasn't lost on you, and the thought of doing anything with this guy made your nose crinkle in disgust. But before you could reply with anything, you felt the guy's grip get snatched off of you as another, larger hand slid its way around your waist.

"Somethin' I can help you with, bub?" Logan's voice rumbled from behind you, and it clearly rattled the other guy to be challenged by him. After all, Logan was 300 lbs of muscle and adamantium and had the mug of a mean bastard to go with it. Even if that mean bastard was ruggedly handsome and carved from the finest Canadian oak.

You could have defended yourself. You knew this easily, and you were certain Logan did too, though the intensity of his gaze whilst he stared down the other guy forced a needy sensation in your core, betraying any lingering sense of feminism you had.

"No, just talking to the lady here." The guy replied, as politely as he could muster up, despite the fact he was no doubt shitting his pants. "Botherin' her, more like." Logan scoffed. "That cologne of yours is vile, by the way. You should probably try and wear something that doesn't smell like shit next time you try and flirt with a lady. Especially one who's spoken for."

The guy stammered, tripping over himself in trying to respond, his eyes running from you, then back to Logan, lips flapping comically but with no sound coming out.

Logan took this opportunity to tug you away from the bar instead. "C'mon, Sweetheart. Let's go have a talk." He snarled. "Logan, what are you doing? You need to focus on the meeting! Now is not the time for it!" Scott's voice down the communicator was cut off when Logan tore his out of his ear and yours as well (though he was uncharacteristically gentle as he plucked it from your ear).

He stuffed them both in his pocket, dragging you past the roulette table and the blackjack and into the men's bathroom. A single cubicle, with a lock on it that he immediately clicked shut the second that you were both in.

"What the Hell are you thinking?" You snap up at him, tearing your arm from his grip. Logan didn't reply instantly. His nostrils were flared, his beautiful mouth twisted in a vicious sneer and his whole body vibrating with the kind of energy that was more animal than human. His arms were tense, you could see the seams of his jacket nearly fraying at the effort, whilst those Hazel eyes of his burned into yours.

"I'm thinkin' about how furious I am." He snarled in reply, after a moment to think. "I'm thinkin' about how idiotic you are for even strikin' up a conversation with that guy in the damn first place. I'm thinkin'…" One tantalising step forward, and all of a sudden you were braced against the tiled wall. Thankfully the casino was clean, or at least looked it. Logan loomed over you, his breath heavy and stuttering, and for a moment you wondered if he had finally snapped and was going to drive those claws of his into your chest and finally be done with it. "I'm thinkin'… Dammit, that dress is good on you."

You blink, a few times as you look up at him, trying to confirm that you'd heard him correctly, that his eyes truly were raking down your body like that and not that you'd just dreamed it.

"Logan-" "Shut up." He snapped, cutting you off. "Just… shut up. Stop talking. God, you're so gorgeous and then you start talkin'!"

Despite your indignation, you didn't get a chance to reply. In moments he had gripped at your ass, squeezing full handfuls and lifting you from the ground, only to move you, seating you along the counter where the sink was, his eyes burning into yours all the while. He dropped you onto the counter with a thud, and in moments he was ruching up the fabric of your dress, the fabric slipping upwards from your ankles up to your mid-thigh. Hastily, you tried to tug it back down but he was far stronger, and it was a better option to have the dress lifted than torn, especially considering you'd both need to head back out to the floor. Now that there was a little give, he burrowed his strong thigh between your own, until his body was firmly planted between your knees.

"God, what am I doing?" He groaned, hanging his head, his hands planted on either side of your hips, trapping you in place. "You don't want this. You hate me as much as I can't stand you. But… I can't take this anymore. The… the tension, the burning, the need. The ache." His voice trembled as he spoke, his shoulders jerking with his difficult breaths.

As if all at once, you seemed to realise his intention here. He wanted you. Needed you. In a way almost primal and carnal, that seemed completely separate to the mission, or their usual distaste of one another.

A searing hot coil tightened in your gut, pulsating with desperation you didn't know you had in you. It had been a while, that much was for certain. 6 months? A year? Longer? Too long, by all measures. Too long since you'd shared your body with someone so vulnerably, so intimately.

And God, how you longed to share it with Logan.

"Shove me away." He demanded. "Shove me away. Smack me. Tell me I'm a brute and a bastard and you don't wanna fuck me. Do it. Because if you don't, I'm not stopping, mission be damned."

Instead, disobedient to his pleading, you slid your hands up his chest, feeling every ridge and valley even through his tuxedo. There were no words shared, no refusals or acceptances. Only a gentle touch between the fiercest of enemies.

His eyes flared, bright and incensed, and in moments he had shrugged off his jacket, tossing it haphazardly backwards, not caring where it landed, before dropping to his knees.

His hands planted themselves defiantly on your inner thighs, holding them open as he brought his face towards your core, whilst your needy fingers kept your skirt bunched up and out of his way. Logan didn't even bother to pull your panties aside, at first. He pressed chaste kisses at first to the seam of your womanhood, feeling how it slicked at his attention, enjoying the way you reacted to his attention, the way the scent of your desire seemed to permeate the air around him from every angle. He hummed into his kisses as well, the vibration only making that coil in your gut tighter. At the attempts to close your thighs, he only snarled, his grip getting firmer as he held them apart, shooting a glare up at you as if to warn you that if you didn't stop, he wouldn't keep going.

You relaxed your thighs, and he quickly crooked a finger around the gusset of your panties, tugging them to the side, taking in the sight of you with a cocked, eager eyebrow.

"You got a pretty pussy, sweetheart. She's a needy thing, huh?" He teased, before toying with his thumb, running along the seam a moment before holding you open, just in time for him to dive in again.

He kissed you as if he wanted to devour you like a hound starved for days on end would lap at the sweetest, most delicious meal. Quickly, he shrugged your thighs onto his shoulders, holding you against his face, as he slung one arm around you, holding your thigh in place on him and sliding his hand over the plane of your hip before he began to rub at your swollen clit, whilst his tongue diverted his focus to your weeping honeypot.

There couldn't be a finer sight anywhere in the world. You didn't care you were in a casino bathroom, or that you were meant to be working tonight on an important mission. Life or death meant jack shit compared to the sight of Logan kneeling between your legs and devouring you. He even seemed to hum in delight as your hand tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, nearly drowning him in your need.

He pulled back a moment later, strings of your desire still connecting you to his lips, before he swiped them away, licking them from his fingers.

At your whine, he only scoffed. "You don't finish anywhere but on my cock. You understand me?" He grumbled, standing up again, and unfastening his trousers, letting them and his boxers fall in a puddle on the floor in one swift, easy movement. When you glanced down, you could see he was already at full mast. Larger, thicker, veinier than any you had ever had before. It throbbed in his hand, with 3 beads of precum already leaking down his shaft. He palmed himself a moment, letting out a groan, holding his head in line with your clit as he rocked back and forth, gently. Just enough to soak himself in you.

"Mmm… I don't think you're wet enough." He grumbled, a smirk on his face. You were dripping on the counter, you could feel that already, so you knew he was lying, leading up to something. "So what are you gonna do about it?" You ask, locking your gaze with his own.

He pumps his fist along his cock still as he grins back at you, not averting his gaze as he spat, a thick glob of saliva landing right where his cock met your cunt. He smeared it on himself, on you - on where you both would soon become one - and he chuckled. "I always wanted to spit on you. Never thought you'd get so red from it." "I'm not red from tha-" You went to protest, but before you could finish, he had bucked, his entirety sheathed inside of you in one agonisingly ecstatic movement. All of him was buried in your warmth, and your walls shuddered around him. You didn't know which one of you had let out that moan - but you had a sneaky feeling it was both of you.

Your hand gripped his shirt, holding onto the fabric tightly, seeking to anchor yourself however you could, feeling how your body pulsated around him, acclimatising to his invasion. "Fuck," He cursed, resting his forehead on your shoulder, forcing himself to remain in place, not moving until you'd gotten used to him. "What, has it been so long since you've had a dick you re-virginised? You're so tight…" He ground his hips against your own, not yet pulling out, but making sure to give you that friction that brought another moan from your lips. "This pretty pussy's been needing a stretch. Don't worry, Princess, I'll give her a workout."

With that, he pulled back, each inch that he rescinded leaving you clenching down on nothing, feeling desperate without him. Against your will, you whined, tangling your fist further in the fabric of his shirt, urging him back again. Even after pulling out so slowly, he bucked in fast, torturous and barbaric in his speed. He bucked so hard that your entire body jolted with the collision between you, but he pulled back as if he wanted to watch you crying at the loss of him.

"What's the matter, Princess? You look about ready to sob." He mocked, before grunting as he thrust back in, just as hard, and you cried out in your mixed delight and pleasure. "You're the worst," You retort, through gritted teeth, trying to maintain your brain function even as every slight movement of his cock penetrating you seemed to make you want to melt into him, drooling and moaning like a moron who knew nothing other than taking Logan's cock. "Am I?" He purred in return, grinding his teeth as he let out three sharp thrusts in succession, robbing you of your breath as you forced your nails into his chest, drawing a groan of animalistic delight from him.

"Sounds to me like you're 'boutta cum, Princess. If I'm the worst… maybe I'll just stop." "No!" God, your voice sounded so breathy as it echoed back around the room, and Logan lit up at the sound. "No?" He parrotted, lips pursed and eyes amused, before he tutted. "No what? Use your words." "No, don't stop." "You don't want me to stop. 'cause I'm not the worst, right?" "N-not the worst…" You repeated. "Not the worst. Good girl, Princess. I'm the man who's 'boutta make you cum all over my cock, ain't I? I'm the best I am at what I do. And what I do is fucking girls like you 'til you're stupid. Right?"

By now your tongue had gone numb. You couldn't form a word in your mind, let alone in your throat or mouth. Instead, all that passed your lips were gasps and mewls and needy moans, as you forced yourself to nod, trying to get your point across.

It seemed Logan was too far gone as well, as he grinned down at you, feral and angry and delighted.

He leaned in, pressing heated, feverish kisses all over your neck, up and along the column of your throat before his forehead rested on yours.

"Fuck, Princess. I'm not gonna last much longer…" He panted out, his thrusts becoming faster and faster, no longer taunting you, and instead chasing his peak. His free hand reached down as well, his fingers splayed over your womb whilst his thumb played with your red, sensitive clit, eliciting another loud moan from you.

"Where'd you want it?" Logan snarled. "Tell me, and fast before I… ngh." He bucked, his movements sloppy and desperate. You longed for his warmth inside of you. To feel him spill and buck and ride out his afterglow whilst still nestled in your perfect pussy. To watch the look on his face as he pulled out and saw his own seed oozing from you. "Inside," You demand, the only full word you've managed in a long while. "P…please… inside. Inside." "Wish is my command, darlin'." He grunted out.

His lips crashed against your own, tasking of whiskey and pine and your own sweet nectar, the sensation of receiving a kiss from Logan so tender and desperate finally being enough to tip you over that final cliff.

Your legs wrapped around his middle, tugging him closer, as your pussy fluttered all around him, milking him for all he was worth, as a wave of white-hot euphoria rolled over your mind. Your moans were swallowed by Logan's mouth, as he kept kissing you, letting his own moans and grunts escape as well, the shared sounds of your pleasure rumbling in the caverns of your mouths. "Just like that." He rumbled, between open mouth kisses, murmuring into the plush flesh of your lips. "Cum all over me baby. Make my fuckin' day."

You barely even felt the sensation you'd so longed for as Logan buried himself as deep as he could inside of you, spilling every drop of his cum inside of you, whilst you squeezed every ounce he was worth, the pair of you riding out your orgasms at once.

It took a few seconds for you to catch your breath. Both of you had heaving chests and red faces. Logan pulled free from your lips, though not before offering one teasing, apologetic lip to the seam of your mouth, as though to apologise for kissing so hard and leaving you swollen.

You slid an arm around his shoulders, a silent plea not to pull away, as you pulled him in for one more kiss.

But he froze halfway, and glanced down at his trousers, his eyes growing wide and his jaw tensing.

"Logan? What's the matter?" You ask, leaning forward and glancing down as well, brow furrowed. "I didn't mute the comms." He replied, bluntly.

Didn't mute the comms. The comms that had been in his pocket, and would have picked up their activities.

"Get back to the blackbird, you two. Now. Before you're kicked out of the casino." Scott's voice, tinny and furious, escaped the two comms, even from where they were buried in Logan's discarded trousers. "And don't think for a moment you're not going to be punished for this."

Logan chuckled, reaching down to fasten his trousers back on, returning his gaze to you. "I dunno about you, Princess… but I don't care if I get punished. We're doing that again on the way back. C'mon."

You slid your panties and your dress back into place, stood from the counter and took his hand, heading out of the casino with him, already brimming with excitement for round two - this time with muted comms.

I hope you enjoyed and hope I did this justice - I've not really written enemies to lovers before so this was super fun <3 Feedback is super appreciated so please let me know if you enjoyed!! If you're interested, my requests are open so please feel free to send me any questions, ideas or headcanons you'd like me to explore (please just make sure you've read my pinned post first) TYSM for reading and hope you enjoy <3

[cy-lindric]

bonjour cy-lindric, j'ai une petite question. when I was a young person, I read The Three Musketeers and then eagerly started to read Twenty Years After and was so upset at what had happened to my beloved young heroes that I put the book down and never picked it up. what do you think, should I try again?

Bonjour !

After reading The Three Musketeers, I also wasn't sure I wanted to read Twenty Years After, and I took a break inbetween both to read something entirely different (The Locked Tomb, iirc). I think my reason for that was kind of the opposite of yours ; I enjoyed T3M a lot and loved the characters, flaws and all, but by the end they had somewhat crossed over the line into being Too Awful and the lack of retribution left me a bit frustrated. I didn't see it as a failing of the story - on the contrary, their strong character flaws and downfall in the conflict with Milady is one of the most emotionally intense and compelling parts imo - but I wasn't sure I felt like hanging out with these guys for a few hundred more pages at that point.

If your vision of the characters as a young reader was a very positive and perhaps idealized one, I can imagine why you might not have enjoyed entering into Twenty Years after. The illusion of glory has worn off ; the characters have separated, they live unremarkable lives, and their personalities have evolved drastically with the passing of time. It's almost a brutal return to reality.

For me though, it added layers of characterization to the point where now it's clear to me that this version of the Inseparables is by far the one I prefer.

I hope it's ok if I take the opportunity to talk at length about what I like about TYA below the cut. TL;DR : I love that Twenty Years After is a more realistic look at the big four's personalities and how they evolved while still keeping them thematically coherent, and that TYA makes them confront the reckless and cruel shit they did in their youth.

Spoilers ahead obviously.

We've often talked about how T3M is at its core a story about the end of knighthood. It's a tongue-in-cheek approach at chivalrous initiation, set at edge of the modern world, inbetween the time of ballads about knights in armor and that of adventures about journeying gunmen and soldiers. I think TYA embodies that particularly ; the story of people who have carried the last of these intense, dangerous chivalric ideals in their youths, and who have now grown into middle aged adults who need to find their place in the world.

For a good chunk of the book, the big four are separated into two teams ; that in of itself might discourage some, but imo it's genius. Instead of the natural two-by-pairings, Dumas goes for a d'Artagnan+ Porthos and Athos + Aramis split on opposite sides, which makes for good drama and develops lesser explored dynamics. D'Artagnan and Porthos form a scrappy team of opportunists with money on their minds, and Athos and Aramis a more idealistic duo fighting for a noble lost cause. I think it's a bold choice but also premium sequel writing.

I also love the way the young and wild characters we knew evolve into middle aged men ; at their core, they're still the same, but they've all changed and struggled against the sunset of the golden age in their own ways.

D'Artagnan, after knowing such adventures and subsequent rapid social ascension in his teenage years, has been met in his adult life with the harsh reality that he is, in fact, not a noble knight but a soldier on payroll. His modest origins give him little hope for any further career advancement, and he takes on a new mission in his early 40s for a man he has no devotion for and a cause he doesn't care about, simply because he is bored and broke. D'Artagnan still has his quick wits, his strategic talent, his fencing skills, but he has grown out of the excesses of pride of his teenage years. I loved meeting him again in TYA, and it made so much sense to me that his bouts of anger and aggressivity would be a youthful trait that he'd ended up taming. He also realizes now a lot of what seemed like funny adventures and necessary violence was actually kind of fucked up ; that was a shock to me, as their shenanigans are treated so lightly in T3M, and tbh it healed me a little. Grown up d'Artagnan is cunning, calculating, down to earth and realistic. My foxy little man. I love him.

Porthos, likewise, has been struck by the weight of reality. He has made the sensible choice and got married to the rich widow who sugar mommied him in the first book. Now she's passed, he is rich, but he still fails to earn the respect of the high society he evolves in because he's not high born enough. Like d'Artagnan, he's stagnating and bored and now that he goes back adventuring it has nothing to do with the queen or the kingdom or honour ; it's about getting his damn nobility title.

Athos, on the other hand, is the eternal knight : the only truly high born of the four, and still hopelessly holding on to a time gone by. It's no surprise imo that his storyline brings him into the english civil war, doomed to fail at saving a king who'll end up executed right in front of him. TYA acknowledges more clearly than ever that at 28 yo, Athos was a depressed alcoholic, and an embodiment of what an excess of aristocratic righteousness can do. In TYA, he is sober and moisturized and a DILF, and now he's running around frantically looking for absolution for his numerous crimes. It's delicious.

Aramis is maybe the hardest pill to swallow. TYA confirms the T3M hints that he isn't really the prim and proper romantic boy he acts like he is, and that he's possibly the most hypocritical and ruthless of the four. It might be a harsh one for Aramis fans who like him better as a cute bean, but I love the early onset of remorseless conniving bloodthirsty ambitious Aramis. Another harsh bit might be the evolution of Aramis and d'Artagnan not really liking each other ; they were always the least close combination, and imo it makes sense that their personalities would clash. I think it's clever and compelling conflict.

Now, obviously, if you've cared enough to read all this and if you know me a little, you know that a huge highlight of the book for me was its late-appearing antagonist, Mordaunt. Mordaunt is the son Milady had with her english husband. Because of the Musketeers' intervention, he's grown up in poverty and has been denied his father's inheritance. He's now a Roundhead working for Cromwell, and set on avenging his mother at all costs. Mordaunt, unlike his mother who was this beautiful and dangerous force of nature, is very uncool and pathetic. She was the primordial snake, he's the gutter rat. Obviously, I love that in and of itself, but it's also kind of striking image of the wretchedness of what they've done to her, a fucked up little goblin ghost come back to haunt them as they're trying to make their life worth living again. This time, their enemy is not a cunning political rival with a flamboyance of body and mind akin to their own ; it's a shitty little guy with bad skin who wants to kill the king and punish the murderers. Watch out babes, it's the modern world coming for you.

Of course, they're the Four Musketeers, and they did what they had to do, so they get together again and swear friendship and keep going their way. But they're also old guys with difficult personalities in a world that's never going to be the same. I think it's a cool book.