#bottom!reader

[solar-wing]

⚣ Puppy Love: Sweet and Romantic, but also somehow Murderous ❤️‍🔥

⚣❤️‍🔥 A/N → something I started writing while finishing up Shadowing Nightwing. Is this what I imagine my relationship to be like with Jason on a regular basis...absolutely. Absolutely. Am I somewhat delusional and living in a fantasy world? Also, absolutely, but also, mind your fucking business. anyways...! This was inspired from multiple posts and authors, who I have tagged and hyperlinked. @allllium @maj-b-s Thank you for feeding my obsession—ahem—my therapist will be sending you a bill. tee hee... WARNINGS: 18 + MDNI | College Male Reader | Fluff & Humor | Minor Violence (Implied) | Swearing/Crude Language | Smut | Breathplay | Possessiveness/Jealousy | Everyone wants Y/N's man |

⚣❤️‍🔥 Summary → Meet Jason and Y/N: Gotham’s answer to the ultimate “relationship goals”—if your relationship goals involve an overly protective vigilante with a slight obsession for tearing apart his boyfriend’s scandalous wardrobe (and sometimes his coworkers). Their love story? Equal parts intense, adorable, and absolutely chaotic. Jason’s the growling, brooding protector who’d burn the world for Y/N, while Y/N is the sunshine with just enough sass to keep him in check… well, sometimes.

⚣❤️‍🔥 Word Count → 14.5K

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY ❤️‍🔥

If you asked anyone, they might hesitate to admit it outright, but the truth was hard to ignore: people envied Jason and Y/N’s relationship—and who could blame them? From the day those two started dating, they’d been like high-school sweethearts stuck in the honeymoon phase, but with ten times the intensity and none of the restraint. Not to sound bitter or envious—it was just a fact.

They were a painfully adorable couple. Jason was the doting, protective lover, almost to a fault. Sure, it’s a bit of a cliché, but he didn’t exactly help himself with the stark difference in how he treated others versus Y/N. Around everyone else, Jason looked permanently grouchy, as though every conversation he endured was a test of patience he barely passed. His eye-rolls, heavy sighs, and palpable disinterest didn’t go unnoticed; in fact, he made it pretty clear he couldn’t wait to walk away from anyone who wasn’t Y/N.

But the moment Y/N entered the room? Suddenly, Jason had nothing more important in the world. It was almost comical to watch this towering vigilante hang onto every word Y/N said like an overly attached puppy. Actually, that was the perfect way to describe their dynamic: Jason was a huge, lethal teddy bear with a soft spot, and Y/N was the unassuming boyfriend who had no clue how much sway he held over this giant who’d kill for him without hesitation.

Honestly, the best way to describe Y/N was as Jason’s polar opposite. He was social—well, social enough—and that sometimes got on his boyfriend’s nerves, who would’ve preferred to keep Y/N all to himself. It was partly jealousy, partly a possessive urge to monopolize his lover’s attention, but mostly it was Jason’s instinct to shield him from a world that had never been kind to the vigilante. Jason had been hardened by a lifetime of darkness, and he’d go to ridiculous lengths to keep Y/N’s light from dimming.

Not that Jason’s methods were exactly…practical.

“Jason, I get that you want to protect me, but you can’t shield me from everything,” Y/N said, finally sitting his boyfriend down for a much-needed conversation after yet another of Jason’s over-the-top protective stunts. “The only way you could do that would be to wrap me in bubble wrap and lock me away in a cave or something.”

“Trust me, I’ve considered it,” Jason muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me?” Y/N blinked, raising a brow.

“Nothing.”

Despite Y/N’s more social nature, he was everything Jason felt he was missing in life. He was the humor, the hope, the optimism Jason rarely allowed himself. And sure, his optimism came with a sprinkle of sarcasm when he was annoyed, but Jason loved that too. In fact, he was so taken by Y/N that it was nearly an obsession—though, to be fair, obsession was kind of expected from someone like him.

Would a therapist call it codependency or maybe some kind of unhealthy dynamic? Probably. But good luck telling Jason that. He’d likely see it as a personal attack—and let’s just say that if you value your life, you might want to avoid bringing it up. You’ve been warned.

But back to the point: Y/N and Jason’s relationship quickly became the kind that made even Y/N’s friends—most of whom were floundering in the love department—wonder just how he’d managed to snag such a devoted and caring guy. It especially made Jason feel appreciated, loved, and genuinely important to someone the way Y/N would never miss a chance to gush about his vigilante boyfriend to anyone willing to listen, and though he’d never admit it out loud, he secretly loved every second of it.

Though, do exercise a bit (lot) of caution, because once the topic turns to Jason, everyone’s in for a long haul—Y/N could and would talk anyone’s ear off that was willing to listen about how amazing his boyfriend is. Just as Jason was obsessed with Y/N, Y/N was equally smitten with Jason, and honestly? Jason wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Alright, Y/N, spill it! I need every detail about how you landed this guy. Don’t hold out on me—give me the exact prayer, word-for-word, quickly!”

“I—uh—well, I—”

“Come on, Y/N! My pen is drying up, and I’m not getting any younger!” His friend slapped a notepad and pen down in front of him, staring him down like he was about to write out a love spell straight from a witch’s spellbook.

“Girl, I don’t even know. The guy just kinda showed up in my life one day and never left,” Y/N shrugged, half-joking, though it was pretty much the truth.

It had all been by chance—well, kind of. If you could call Jason keeping an eye on Y/N “chance.” In reality, he’d been sort of… lurking, for good reasons (or at least reasons he’d justified to himself). It started one night when Y/N was finishing up his work-study shift at Gotham University. Now, calling an Uber would’ve been the smart, safe choice, especially in a city like Gotham. But he lived just 15 minutes away, and spending money on a five-minute ride? Please. He had a budget to consider.

That was before he found himself cornered in a dark alley by three oversized thugs who smelled like the embodiment of an ashtray mixed with cheap beer, a scent so thick it made his eyes water. The kind of men Gotham bred like weeds—rough, desperate, dangerous. Y/N barely had time to process the situation before one of them shoved him against a cold, brick wall, a knife pressing against his throat. His backpack was snatched and dumped unceremoniously onto the wet alley floor, its contents spilling out for their inspection.

His mind raced, paralyzed with fear and regret. He could practically hear his parents' voices reminding him to be cautious, to make smart choices, to avoid walking alone at night in places like this. Irony stung almost as much as the cold steel against his neck—the “responsible” choice would have been to spend that $15 on an Uber, not gamble his safety for a free walk. 

And was the money he’d save really worth risking his life for? Probably not. But hey, that was Gotham for you—always teaching life lessons the hard way. He braced himself, feeling the icy dread of not knowing if he’d make it out alive. Stories like these didn’t usually end well on the news in this city.

But fate, or something like it, had other plans.

Out of nowhere, a low, gravelly voice sliced through the night. “I’d drop the knife if I were you.”

Y/N didn’t dare turn his head, but he felt the tension shift as the thugs looked up, startled. Standing at the mouth of the alley was a figure who seemed to materialize from the shadows—a tall, broad man clad in black and deep red, with a sleeveless hoodie that revealed muscular arms wrapped in red bandages. A mask and hood concealed majority of his face, glowing red eyes staring down the thugs with an intensity that froze them in place. Strapped across his back were two long katanas, and a utility belt around his waist held holsters that almost certainly contained a pair of guns, adding to his already intimidating presence.

Red Hood.

Y/N had heard of him, of course. Gotham’s resident anti-hero, rumored to have a thing for…creative violence. The vigilante’s imposing size was enough to make anyone feel small; he towered over Y/N, his form carved out of muscle and something darker, something hardened. Even the thugs looked ready to wet themselves, and Y/N could feel the goosebumps rise on his skin as he finally dared to look up.

In less time than it took him to blink, Red Hood had closed the distance, dispatching the thugs with an efficiency that would’ve been impressive if it weren’t so, well, terrifying. Knives clattered to the ground, grunts and thuds filled the air, and Y/N just stood there, frozen like a deer in headlights, half expecting to wake up from a weird stress-induced nightmare.

But this was very real, as proven when Red Hood finally turned to him, and Y/N felt his breath hitch. Up close, the vigilante was even more intimidating—a wall of muscle wrapped in dark red and black, those red eyes glowing with an intensity that made Y/N’s knees wobble. There was no denying it; the guy was terrifying. Yet, for some reason, there was a weird, traitorous voice in the back of his mind whispering, He’s kind of hot, though.

“You alright?” The voice was rough, like gravel scraping across metal, but there was an undertone of concern. Red Hood’s gaze softened just a fraction, almost imperceptible, yet Y/N caught it.

“I—I think so,” he managed, his voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes were wide, and he forced himself not to flinch as Red Hood stepped even closer, the hulking vigilante now looming over him. Up close, he could see the muscles tense beneath the suit, the power radiating off him like heat.

Red Hood’s head tilted slightly, as if assessing him, and Y/N swore he felt like he was being scanned. Which, honestly, was fair. He was some college kid wearing a sweatshirt that said “Gotham U” in block letters, and this guy looked like he wrestled criminals for fun. But instead of feeling like prey, he felt this strange pull, like something was drawing him toward the vigilante. It was probably just adrenaline�� or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Red Hood gave a grunt, a sound that could have meant anything from “good to hear” to “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, punk.” But then he leaned down, his helmet casting an ominous shadow over Y/N’s face. “Next time, take the Uber.”

Y/N blinked, the absurdity of the situation hitting him all at once. “Noted,” he replied, deadpan, because honestly, what else could he say?

He should have been scared—terrified, even. But instead, he found himself lingering on every detail: the way Red Hood’s chest rose and fell, the glint of his weapons, the sense of barely restrained danger that rolled off him in waves. And underneath all of that, a strange, quiet thrill that he didn’t quite understand.

Satisfied, Red Hood gave him one last look before he started to turn away, blending back into the shadows. But in a flash of impulsiveness, Y/N called out, “Wait!”

Red Hood stopped, glancing over his shoulder, clearly not used to random civilians asking for an encore. Y/N hesitated, realizing how ridiculous he must have sounded, but the words were already out there, so he figured he might as well keep going.

“Uh… thanks. For, you know, saving me. And also for the life advice,” he added, his voice dripping with awkward humor.

There was a pause—a long, silent pause where Y/N briefly wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake. But then, to his surprise, he thought he saw the faintest tilt of amusement in the way Red Hood shifted his stance. Was that… a chuckle? No, probably not. But he’d like to think so.

Red Hood nodded—a subtle acknowledgment—before disappearing into the night, leaving Y/N alone in the alley with nothing but his scattered belongings and a heart that felt like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest. As he knelt down to gather his things, he couldn’t help but survey the carnage of his soggy notebooks and papers, along with his now-broken laptop and tangled, half-shattered headphones.

He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he picked up a notebook that was more mush than paper. “Well, this is fine,” he muttered, trying to keep his spirits up. “Just a little water damage. Adds character, right?”

Then he spotted his laptop, the screen shattered and a piece of it barely hanging on by a hinge. He laughed, a bitter chuckle that held more disbelief than humor. “Guess it’s one way to force an upgrade,” he murmured, stuffing it back in his backpack like a defeated soldier gathering his gear after a lost battle.

And the headphones? Well, they’d been cheap anyway, held together by more wishful thinking than actual quality. “You were too good for this world,” he whispered dramatically, dropping them into the bag with a resigned sigh.

Despite the state of his belongings, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just survived something surreal, something that would haunt his dreams and maybe even—dare he say it?—excite him a little.

Unbeknownst to him, from the shadows a few blocks away, Jason eyed him from his hiding spot, a curiosity nagging at him, as if he’d found something worth watching over. He could see Y/N still crouched on the grimy ground, gathering his belongings—soggy notebooks, torn papers, a laptop with a shattered screen. He’d felt a pang of guilt as he watched, a flicker of sympathy mingling with a less-than-pleasant feeling of familiarity knowing all too well what it was like to lose the few things you relied on—to feel like the world had kicked you when you were down.

And while he’d never admit it, maybe a part of him liked that the kid seemed more amused than scared. After all, it wasn’t every day that someone didn’t scream when they saw Red Hood.

Of course, now that they were dating, Y/N was not surprised by the vigilante’s actions after their encounter when he’d come out of his apartment a week later to find a large box sitting on his doorstep with a plain label reading simply, “For You.” 

Inside was an assortment of brand-new school supplies including pristine notebooks in varying colors, a handful of smooth, high-quality pens and highlighters, and even a sleek, expensive laptop that he definitely could not afford on a student budget. Nestled beside it was a pair of high-quality Bluetooth headphones—the kind he’d ogled online but never dreamed of buying. And to top it all off, there was a sturdy, stylish bag to carry everything in.

And while most other people would’ve been slightly concerned at the fact that a random vigilante just happened to know their address after only one meeting where they didn’t even give their name, Y/N on the other hand, was processing the contents of the box with a mix of gratitude, amusement, and a new crush.

And so, their love story began, marked by Jason’s continued (and slightly overprotective) habit of rescuing Y/N from Gotham’s mean streets—even if the college student didn’t always realize he needed saving. Hence the “stalking” mentioned earlier.

Of course, was it technically stalking if it was done out of love and devotion for some random stranger you’d developed a massive crush on but couldn’t quite work up the nerve to talk to directly? Well… yes. Experts would say it’s still stalking. But hey, if those experts ever found themselves in a tight spot, Jason would be conveniently “unavailable” to save them.

Naturally, Y/N couldn’t exactly share the full story of his and Jason’s introduction. For one, his friends would roast him to the ends of the earth for being dumb enough to walk home alone in Gotham at night. He could practically hear their voices now: “Really, Y/N? Alone? At night? In Gotham? Do you not value your own life?” And frankly, he wasn’t about to give them that much material.

Oh, and there was also the tiny detail of Red Hood’s whole secret vigilante identity thing.

So, he went with a slightly edited version of the story, painting Jason as a “helpful stranger” who just happened to show up when Y/N “got lost” and had his bag stolen. And when his friends inevitably asked about the shiny new gear—a nearly $500 bag, top-of-the-line laptop, high-quality headphones, the works—he explained it all as a result of some extra scholarship money and financial aid he’d “saved up.” Sure, splurging on luxury tech and accessories might seem a tad unrealistic, but he’d throw in a line about a “really good sale” and call it a day.

Because as much as Jason’s habit of going overboard with gifts could be a little, well, extra, Y/N wasn’t about to complain. The man was thoughtful in a way few would ever believe, though his affection tended to be wrapped in thick layers of leather, weaponry, and a no-nonsense glare.

Jason loved hard, though he wasn’t quick to show it to just anyone. The guy kept his feelings locked up tighter than a Gotham vault, hardened by a lifetime of broken trust and betrayal. He wasn’t exactly the “wear your heart on your sleeve” type. But every so often, with the right person, he’d crack that tough exterior. And Y/N? Somehow, he’d slipped right through, without even trying.

And okay, could Jason be a little intense? Sure (absolutely). But when a vigilante with a borderline obsessive streak decides he cares about you, well… let’s just say things are bound to get a little out of hand. That’s just the price of having Gotham’s resident anti-hero as your personal guard dog.

Not that Y/N thinks of him quite like that, but it’s kind of funny, considering Jason really does act like a lovesick puppy when it’s just the two of them, his tough exterior melting away—it gave the energy of a Golden Retriever, maybe, or a Siberian Husky with an attitude problem. But the moment anyone else entered the room, his whole vibe transformed. If Y/N was his safe haven, the rest of the world was an enemy camp. He’d switch from doting boyfriend to a blend of German Shepherd, Rottweiler, and Doberman with the attitude and aggressiveness of a Chihuahua on an espresso shot. It was a little terrifying for others but to Y/N? It was just… Jason.

Part of what made their dynamic so unique was how Jason let himself be vulnerable around Y/N, something few people ever got to see. Y/N was his safe space, the person he could trust to see the parts of him he usually kept hidden—the softness, the care, the insecurities he guarded as fiercely as he guarded Gotham’s streets.

Funny enough, Y/N quickly discovered just a few months into dating that Jason’s love language was, without a doubt, physical touch. Why was that funny—and possibly the most ironic thing he’d ever experienced? Because when they first started dating, Jason avoided touch like it was the plague.

It took Y/N a while to notice it, but once he did, it was painfully obvious. Jason had this way of keeping just enough distance, as if he’d drawn a line no one was allowed to cross. At first, Y/N thought it was just Jason’s natural intensity, but over time, he began to see the pattern. Jason was hyper-aware of any physical contact—quick to dodge, tense when someone brushed against him accidentally, even flinching at touches he saw coming. It was like he’d trained himself to see any sort of physical contact as a potential threat.

And it made sense, really, considering Jason’s past and the double life he led—something Y/N only found out about a few months after they started dating. Jason’s body told a story all on its own, each scar and faded bruise marking a chapter of battles fought and enemies conquered. The scars weren’t just skin-deep; they were reminders of a life filled with danger, betrayal, and loss. And Y/N began to understand why Jason had always kept his distance, why he seemed wary of even the gentlest touch. To Jason, vulnerability had always come with a price.

Also, talking about his family was a rare event, and when he did, there was a hesitance, a guarded tone. Y/N knew bits and pieces—enough to understand that while Jason loved his family, there were wounds there too, emotional scars that ran just as deep as the ones on his body. He avoided talking about them, save for the occasional mention of Alfred, the family’s butler. Alfred was the exception, the one person Jason spoke of with nothing but respect and a rare softness. In time, Y/N came to love and appreciate Alfred just as much, seeing how deeply he’d cared for Jason when others hadn’t.

But even with Alfred, Jason’s life had taught him that letting people in, letting people close, meant risking pain. So he’d built walls, high and impenetrable, where touch was a luxury and distance was safety. Yet again, somehow, Y/N had slipped through those walls. Slowly, patiently, he’d helped Jason find comfort in a gentle touch, a warm embrace, and the knowledge that here, with him, there was no danger. Just love.

At first, it was subtle—the occasional shoulder touch, the brief brush of his hand, like Jason was testing the waters. But as he grew more comfortable, his affection started to show in quiet, gentle ways: a hand resting at the small of Y/N’s back, an arm draped protectively around his shoulders, or the way he’d pull Y/N close, as if his presence alone could shield him from the world. Sure, his protectiveness sometimes bordered on overbearing, but Y/N didn’t mind one bit. He’d come to cherish those moments, knowing that each touch, each fierce little act of devotion, was Jason’s own way of saying, I love you.

And before Y/N even realized it, Jason had practically become his shadow, glued to his side like some overly affectionate—albeit slightly brooding—puppy. It was like a switch had flipped, and suddenly, Jason couldn’t go a full five minutes without reaching out to touch him, craving the comfort and reassurance of Y/N’s presence. Jason was always there, one way or another: a hand resting on his neck, fingers tracing along his arm, a warm weight on his thigh, or just… hovering in his orbit like a bodyguard who happened to look at him like he was the best thing in Gotham.

Rarely did a moment pass when they weren’t connected in some physical way. More often than not, Jason would find any excuse to pull Y/N into a full-on cuddle, whether they were on the couch or in bed, as if he was storing up warmth like a battery. And his favorite spot? Laying his head on Y/N’s chest, listening to his heartbeat with his eyes closed, completely at peace as Y/N’s hands ran gently through his hair. For Jason, it was the ultimate comfort, a reminder that he was loved and safe—a rare feeling in his life.

It was endearing, really. Jason might’ve been Gotham’s big bad vigilante, but to Y/N, he was a full-grown man with the energy of a giant, needy puppy, demanding his attention with that silent, intense stare of his. And honestly? Y/N wouldn’t have it any other way.

Of course, Y/N would be lying if he said he didn’t get a kick out of the way Jason would pout and glare at him whenever he stopped rubbing his head or, heaven forbid, dared to refuse his touch. Imagine this six-foot-plus tower of muscle—a guy who could make dudes on steroids look like scrawny sidekicks—staring down his boyfriend with an actual pout because he wasn’t getting his cuddle fix. It was a sight that never failed to make Y/N laugh (not that he’d do it out loud; he valued his life, after all).

Jason could—and would—throw his ire at just about anyone else, often for the smallest of reasons. Anyone not named Y/N was fair game for his mood swings, his infamous scowl, and even the occasional growl. But with Y/N? Well, let’s just say he was spared from the wrath of Gotham’s most intimidating vigilante… unless he denied Jason cuddles or the sacred privilege of his bodily embrace. That, apparently, was the one line Y/N couldn’t cross.

The “punishment” usually lasted, at most, ten minutes. Jason would start by sulking, grumbling under his breath like a child denied dessert, and shooting Y/N the kind of glare usually reserved for Gotham’s worst criminals. Y/N, of course, would hold out as long as he could, but eventually, one of two things would happen. Either he’d cave, sighing as he finally opened his arms to let Jason claim his cuddle rights, listening as Jason mumbled dramatically about how he “should never be denied cuddles” because it was his god-given right, or—if Y/N took too long—Jason would take matters into his own hands.

And by that, it meant Jason would simply scoop him up, plop himself down, and drape his entire, solid weight on top of Y/N like some overgrown cat claiming it's human. There was no escape—Jason’s big arms wrapped around him like an anaconda, pulling him close until Y/N was completely enveloped, pinned down with zero chance of getting away.

Y/N didn’t mind, though. Quite the opposite, actually—it was hot. Sue him.

"Y/N, don’t take this the wrong way but… is your man single?” one of his coworkers asked, giving him a sly grin.

OOP—

GIRL. For your own sake—and for the sake of anyone within a mile radius—tread carefully. That man is as jealous and territorial as his possessive ass vigilante boyfriend, who’s on a level that’s practically legendary. No, seriously; Jason’s jealousy was on a scale that was insane.

Case in point: family game night. Tim had everyone playing this game where you had to come up with a word for each category starting with a randomly chosen letter. Simple enough, right? Well, when “J” was the letter of the round, let’s just say Y/N’s answers weren’t exactly… satisfying to a certain overprotective vigilante.

“Y/N,” Jason hissed, narrowing his eyes, “you’ve got two seconds to explain to me who the hell Jackson is.”

“I had to think of something!” Y/N replied, holding up his hands defensively.

Jason crossed his arms, staring him down. “And what does my name start with, hmm?”

“I—okay, listen, I panicked! I was thinking about Percy Jackson!”

Jason didn’t see it as jealousy—he was just protective, okay? But if his definition of protective happened to mean glaring down anyone who so much as glanced at Y/N, then so be it.

Y/N on the other hand…

Funny enough, Jason actually started complaining because every time he and Y/N went out together, people would give him looks, like they thought Y/N was in mortal danger. And okay, Jason got it—he wasn’t exactly small, or subtle. With his build, his perpetual scowl, and the way he seemed ready to throw down at any given moment, he could understand slightly why people would think the way they’d think. Shit, he’d do the same. But still.

When it got to the point of the cops getting called because the neighbors heard loud noises, grunts, and what they thought were sounds of pain and struggle after seeing a large and intimidating man drag Y/N into his apartment—when, in reality, they were just doing the dirty tango against the kitchen wall—it gets a bit annoying.

But that wasn’t even the real issue Jason had been complaining about. No, what had actually gotten under his skin was how everyone always assumed he was the threat, when in reality, it was Y/N they should’ve been worried about. People just didn’t see it, but Y/N had a dangerous side all his own. Just ask the kid who was dumb enough to try and pull a fast one on Jason by touching and caressing him in public when Y/N had stepped away for a moment.

The moment the college student came back… well, let’s just say things got ugly. Legally, however, Jason couldn’t speak about it. Not because he didn’t want to—oh, he’d love to relive the whole glorious scene—but because Y/N had made him, and his brothers, sign an NDA afterward. Yep, Dick, Tim, Damian, and Jason had to put pen to paper, bound to secrecy about The Incident.

Y/N had handled it with a level of ruthless efficiency that left the whole Bat family in awe. He’d dealt with that poor, clueless kid in a way that was so subtly devastating that even Bruce raised an eyebrow when he found out. Although, truth be told, Bruce wasn’t exactly shocked; he just hadn’t expected someone as sweet as Y/N to be quite so… resourceful.

After that, the whole family understood that, sure, Jason might look like the scary one—but when it came to those he loved, especially when it involved Jason, Y/N was a force to be reckoned with.

Y/N glanced back at his coworker with a slightly distant look before letting out a laugh, shaking his head. “Girl, don’t play.”

Girl—seriously, don’t do it.

Thankfully, she chose common sense and life at that moment, laughing along with him. “You know I’m just kidding! But seriously, where did you find him? The things I’d do just to get a man who looks at me with even half the love as he does with you.”

It was in Y/N’s honest opinion that Jason had to be an angel or some divine gift sent to him from the heavens above. Or God, the Universe, Santa Claus, took mercy on him knowing that kind of unserious trouble he could get himself into. Seriously, it was like his life was written by some dude who strove to put him in the most unthinkable scenarios ever thought of by man.

…

Hold up.

…

Nah…unless?

“But seriously, where do you even find a man like that? ‘Cause the ones out here? Girl, they’re giving ‘bare minimum’ and vibes. God really needs to start restocking the good ones.”

“Where did I find him?” Y/N repeated, smirking as he wiped down the counter. “I don’t know. One day he just showed up, brooding and scary-looking, and now he refuses to leave.”

His coworker rolled her eyes, leaning closer like she was trying to decode some deep secret. “You’re dodging the question. Men like that don’t just show up. Spill the tea.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly? If I told you the real story, you wouldn’t believe me.”

And wasn’t that the truth? If he started explaining how Gotham’s most terrifying vigilante had saved him from a mugging, delivered new school supplies like some twisted fairy godmother, and then proceeded to burrow into his life like an oversized, territorial puppy, she’d probably think he was delusional. Or worse, that he was into some bizarre fanfiction-level nonsense. Which, fair.

Before Y/N could add anything else, his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the screen and couldn’t stop the small smile that crept across his face.

Jason: Did you eat yet?

Y/N sighed, typing back a quick Yes, Dad, even though it was a blatant lie. He didn’t need Jason going full hover-boyfriend just because he skipped breakfast.

Fifteen minutes later, though, Jason strolled into the shop like he owned the place, a brown paper bag in hand. Y/N barely had time to react before Jason plopped the bag on the counter, his expression hovering between annoyed and smug.

“Didn’t I just tell you I ate?” Y/N asked, arching an eyebrow.

Jason crossed his arms, his biceps straining his jacket in a way that made his coworker openly gape. “And I didn’t believe you. So here.” He gestured at the bag like it was some great offering, clearly unbothered by the audience they had. “You’re not skipping meals.”

Y/N sighed, opening the bag to find his favorite sandwich neatly packed alongside a container of fruit and—of course—a bottle of water. His coworker, meanwhile, was staring like she was witnessing a rom-com play out in real life.

“You know,” she whispered as Jason stepped back to lean casually against the counter, his watchful gaze flicking between Y/N and the shop’s door, “if you don’t marry this man, I will.”

Y/N snorted, shoving a grape in his mouth. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

In all honesty, Y/N knew the kind of love Jason offered wasn’t for the faint of heart. As previously mentioned, when that man loved, he loved hard—like all-in, no-holds-barred, borderline territorial levels of hard. And he wasn’t just protective—oh no, he was possessive with a capital P when it came to the things he cared about.

What did that mean?

Well...

Considering the kind of life Jason had lived—where the things he loved or that brought him joy were often ripped away in the most brutal, gut-wrenching ways imaginable—it wasn’t exactly a shocker. Jason had become fiercely devoted to guarding what was his, with a vigilance that often toed the line between endearing and slightly terrifying.

It was like an aggressive dog who decided one day that a random shoe was its favorite thing in the world. The kind of resource-guarding where even looking at the shoe too long earned you a deep, guttural growl of warning. Ignore the warning? Well, congratulations, you just donated a finger—or maybe two—to the cause.

If it’s not clear by now, Y/N was the shoe, and Jason was the dog. And when it came to Y/N, anything—or anyone—that so much as hinted at upsetting him, threatening him, or even mildly inconveniencing him would quickly find themselves on the wrong end of Jason’s wrath. It wasn’t a matter of if there’d be hell to pay, but how much. Spoiler: it was always a lot.

So, picture this: Y/N comes home after a long day of morning classes and an equally draining evening shift. On the surface, he looks fine. Totally normal. But what no one knows is that he spent the last twenty minutes sitting in his car, quietly sobbing into a handful of fast-food napkins.

He knew better than to bring those emotions into the apartment, though. Because while most boyfriends would give you a hug and let you vent, Jason would go full vigilante mode. If he even sensed that someone had made Y/N upset, it wouldn’t just be hell to pay—it’d be Gotham-wide carnage. And Y/N, being the thoughtful boyfriend he was, liked to minimize unnecessary casualties.

Armed with tissues, eyedrops, and a firm I’m fine, just tired mantra, Y/N stepped through the door, hoping to slide under Jason’s radar.

Nope. Not happening.

The moment Jason saw him, his expression shifted. Y/N had no clue what gave him away—was it the puffiness? His voice? The way he stood?—but Jason immediately clocked something.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asked, his voice calm, but laced with that dangerous edge that said he was already running through a mental list of suspects who might need a "visit."

Y/N froze, debating his options. He knew better than to lie. Jason would sniff it out in seconds. But he also knew that the moment he opened his mouth, Jason wouldn’t rest until he figured out who—or what—was responsible.

And honestly? That was the kind of energy Y/N both feared and loved about him.

“I just had a stressful day at work, Jason. I’ll be fine,” Y/N said, sidestepping as he tried to make his way past the towering vigilante and towards the bathroom.

But trying to get past Jason when he was in that mode? Easier said than done. It was like trying to walk through a solid brick wall—one that was armed, brooding, and ridiculously muscled. Jason was locked into full protective-boyfriend mode, which meant Y/N wasn’t going anywhere until Jason had the name, address, and probably the social security number of the person who dared to upset him.

Why he needed the social security number? Well, Bruce did teach him to be thorough when handling "cases." And in Jason’s mind, this was no different.

In one smooth move, Jason’s arm shot out, stopping Y/N’s attempt to breeze past him. With two quick steps, Y/N found himself backed against the wall—well, Jason’s chest first, and then the wall behind him. Jason leaned in, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible, his dark, piercing gaze locking onto Y/N’s like a laser. That intense look he gave—the one that said I have no problem keeping you right here until I get answers—made Y/N’s knees weak.

Not that he minded. Let’s be real: Jason’s body, his sheer presence, had always been Y/N’s favorite place to decompress, even if it came with the added pressure of being metaphorically (and sometimes literally) pinned to the hot seat. And honestly? Who could complain about being wrapped up in the arms of a man like Jason. If you wouldn’t feel the same, take your judgment elsewhere.

Jason tilted his head, his voice low and commanding as he leaned in closer. “Talk to me, baby. What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Y/N muttered, looking away, though his traitorous heart betrayed him by picking up speed. He could feel Jason’s gaze on him, heavy and unwavering. “Just a bad day.”

“That’s not nothing,” Jason replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His arm caged Y/N in further, his body so close that Y/N could feel the heat radiating off him. “Bad days don’t make you cry in your car before coming home.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. Damn it. How does he always know?

Jason leaned even closer, his lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he whispered, “I’ll ask again. Who made you cry?”

That commanding tone, combined with Jason’s overwhelming presence, had Y/N’s walls crumbling faster than he’d like to admit. “Jason, it’s nothing you need to get involved in. It’s my boss—he’s just been... making things harder than they need to be,” he said, his voice faltering as he tried to downplay the situation.

Jason’s jaw ticked, and his free hand gently cupped Y/N’s chin, tilting his head back so their eyes met. “Details. Now.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before the frustration, hurt, and exhaustion bubbled over. “He’s cutting my hours—again. And I need those hours, Jason. For rent, for groceries, for school. I’ve tried talking to him, emailing HR, even bringing in a neutral third party, but nothing changes. And today…” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “Today, he reduced my schedule to the point where I’ll barely be able to afford ramen next week. And then he called me into his office to give me some bullshit ‘coaching moment’ that was really just him tearing me down in front of everyone.”

Jason’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as Y/N’s words sank in. “What did he say?” His tone was dangerously calm, the kind of calm that meant bad things were about to happen to someone.

Y/N shook his head, his voice breaking as he tried to get the words out. “I—I don’t want to repeat it. It was nasty, Jason. Just nasty.”

Jason’s grip softened immediately, his hand moving to the back of Y/N’s neck as he pulled him into his chest. “Baby, come here,” he murmured, his voice gentler now. Y/N didn’t resist, letting himself melt into Jason’s arms as the tears he’d been holding back all day finally spilled over.

Jason held him tightly, his strong arms a fortress of safety and comfort as he whispered, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it out.”

They stayed like that for a while, Jason eventually guiding Y/N to the couch so they could sit down. He pulled Y/N into his lap, holding him as if to shield him from the world. Y/N buried his face in Jason’s chest, the warmth and strength of his boyfriend grounding him as Jason’s hand gently stroked his back.

After a while, Y/N’s voice broke the silence. “Promise me you won’t do anything rash, Jason. Please.”

Jason’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded. “I promise.”

The next day, Y/N found himself questioning that promise when Jason showed up at his workplace. The vigilante didn’t cause a scene—he didn’t need to. A quiet, private “conversation” with Y/N’s manager in the backroom was all it took. Whatever Jason said, it worked. By the time he left, Y/N’s hours had mysteriously been restored, and his manager couldn’t look him in the eye without stammering.

When Y/N confronted him later, Jason just smirked, pulling him into a kiss. “I didn’t do anything rash,” he said innocently. “I just... clarified some things.”

And honestly? Y/N didn’t even want to know what “clarified��� meant.

It was that incident—the one where Jason paid a visit to Y/N’s workplace—when Y/N’s coworkers finally met the infamous boyfriend they’d only ever heard about in passing. Well, passing might’ve been an understatement, considering Y/N used any and every opportunity to talk about his man. At first, the constant mentions of “Jason this” and “Jason that” had been met with teasing eyerolls and mock groans. But after seeing Jason in action, shutting down their tyrant of a manager with one calm but devastating conversation, everyone got it. Completely.

Jason and Y/N quickly became what the group lovingly referred to as the “template” for relationship goals. Y/N didn’t mind the label; he liked that people saw the best parts of their dynamic. What they didn’t see—or couldn’t fully grasp—was the effort and balance behind it all. Jason wasn’t just the tall, brooding vigilante who swooped in to save the day, and Y/N wasn’t just the sweet, supportive boyfriend standing in his shadow. Their relationship was a partnership in every sense of the word, built on mutual protection and care for one another.

It was that incident—the one where Jason paid a visit to Y/N’s workplace—when Y/N’s coworkers finally met the infamous boyfriend they’d only ever heard about in passing. Well, passing might’ve been an understatement, considering Y/N used any and every opportunity to talk about his man. At first, the constant mentions of “Jason this” and “Jason that” had been met with teasing eyerolls and mock groans. But after seeing Jason in action, shutting down their tyrant of a manager with one calm but devastating conversation, everyone got it. Completely.

Jason and Y/N quickly became what the group lovingly referred to as the “template” for relationship goals. Y/N didn’t mind the label; he liked that people saw the best parts of their dynamic. What they didn’t see—or couldn’t fully grasp—was the effort and balance behind it all. Jason wasn’t just the tall, brooding vigilante who swooped in to save the day, and Y/N wasn’t just the sweet, supportive boyfriend standing in his shadow. Their relationship was a partnership in every sense of the word, built on mutual protection and care for one another.

“Y/N, how much is your rent for this place? It’s really nice, and I’m looking for something closer to campus,” his friend asked one day during a study session at his and Jason’s apartment. A few of their classmates had joined, and the group was sprawled out in the living room, surrounded by open textbooks, laptops, and half-empty mugs and cups.

Y/N was about to answer—he really was—but then paused, his face twisting into a look of genuine confusion as he stared off into the distance, like he was searching the recesses of his brain for an answer that just wasn’t there. “Uh… I think $1,100? Maybe? Don’t quote me on that, though. I’m not 100% sure.”

His friends all exchanged baffled looks. “Wait, what do you mean you’re not sure?” one of them asked, narrowing their eyes. “How do you not know your own rent?”

“I do! I just… forgot,” Y/N said with a shrug, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Now they were all staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “Y/N, literally what the fuck? How do you just forget how much you pay in rent? Who forgets that?”

“I don’t know, okay? I knew it when I signed the lease, but every time I try to pay it at the beginning of the month, Jason’s already paid it. Sometimes months in advance! And, I don’t know, after a while, it just stopped being something I thought about.” Y/N gestured vaguely, as if this explanation somehow made perfect sense.

That didn’t stop the dumbfounded stares—or the flicker of envy in more than a few pairs of eyes.

“Wait, wait, wait.” One of his friends held up a hand. “So your boyfriend just pays your rent for you every month—without even asking—and you just… let him?”

Y/N snorted, sitting back on the couch. “First of all, rude. It’s not like I just let him. Trust me, if you were in my shoes, you’d understand that trying to stop Jason from taking care of me is like… I don’t know, trying to explain to someone in a MAGA hat what a cult is and that they’re in one. You’re not winning that battle.”

Can the church get an amen?

Y/N wasn’t lying—not even a little—when he said that trying to stop Jason from taking care of him was an exercise in futility. If anyone dared to tell Jason he was “doing too much” for his boyfriend, congratulations, they’d now joined the prestigious ranks of those “experts” Jason would gladly let fend for themselves in a crisis. When it came to Y/N, Jason handled it all: physically, emotionally, financially—you name it, he was on it like white on rice. And no amount of protesting from Y/N could change that.

And oh, did Y/N protest.

“Jason, did you pay my rent again?” Y/N asked, stepping into the apartment with his wallet still in hand and a clearly exasperated look on his face. He’d just come back from the leasing office, only to find out his balance was already cleared with a sex month advance payment. Again.

His frustration hit a slight pause, though, as he spotted Jason lounging shirtless on the couch—pause for an aroused deep breath—engrossed in what appeared to be an intense game of Mario Kart on his Nintendo Switch. A book Jason had been reading earlier was tossed haphazardly to the side, forgotten in the heat of the Rainbow Road battle.

Jason didn’t even glance up as he responded, “Yeah, I did. Why?” His thumbs moved quickly over the buttons, his face set in that annoyingly sexy, hyper-focused expression that made Y/N momentarily forget why he was upset in the first place.

“Why?” Y/N snapped, pulling himself out of that temporary daze. “Because I told you not to! That’s why!” He stormed over, planting himself squarely in front of the couch, arms crossed and glare locked on his boyfriend. “Jason, we’ve talked about this. I can handle my own rent.”

Jason sighed, finally pausing his game. He leaned back against the couch with an air of deliberate calm, setting the joy-con controllers aside. “I know you can,” he said, his voice smooth and measured in a way that made Y/N’s resolve falter. Jason’s eyes flicked up to meet his, dark and steady, pinning Y/N in place. “But here’s the thing, babe—you don’t have to.”

“That’s not the point,” Y/N shot back, his voice wavering slightly as Jason stretched lazily, his arms going behind his head in a way that made the muscles in his chest and shoulders flex. Unfair. He was doing this on purpose.

“Isn’t it, though?” Jason’s lips curved into a slow, smug smirk. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and Y/N’s breath hitched as the intensity of his gaze locked onto him. “Taking care of you isn’t optional for me. It’s my job. Whether it’s paying the rent, making sure you eat, or keeping your gorgeous ass out of trouble, that’s mine to handle.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned as he tried to maintain his glare, but it was a losing battle. “Jason,” he said firmly, though the quiver in his voice betrayed him, “you can’t just decide these things without asking me.”

Jason tilted his head, studying him in a way that felt equal parts tender and possessive. “Sure I can,” he said smoothly, reaching out to hook his fingers lightly around Y/N’s wrist, tugging him forward until he was standing between Jason’s knees. “You can handle yourself—I know that. But you don’t need to. Not when I’m here.”

Y/N opened his mouth to protest, but Jason tugged him down into his lap, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him close. His free hand slid to the back of Y/N’s neck, his thumb brushing against the skin there in a way that made Y/N’s heart race.

“Tell me,” Jason murmured, his voice low and commanding, “why should I let you stress over something I can fix? Hmm?”

Y/N bit his lip, trying to muster the strength to argue, but Jason’s tone, his touch, the sheer weight of his presence—it all left him scrambling for words. He hated how easily Jason could reduce him to this flustered mess, and he really hated how much he secretly loved it.

“You’re impossible,” he finally muttered, dropping his head against Jason’s shoulder, his voice soft and defeated.

“And you love me for it,” Jason murmured against his ear, his smirk practically audible.

Y/N groaned but didn’t pull away, his fingers curling against Jason’s chest. “This conversation isn’t over,” he mumbled, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“Sure, babe. Whatever you say,” Jason replied, leaning back with Y/N still in his lap, his grip firm and unyielding. He reached for his Switch with his free hand, resuming his game like he hadn’t just completely derailed the argument and walked away victorious.

And as much as Y/N wanted to be mad, he couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips. Damn it. He really did love him for it. The student didn’t need to say how much he appreciated the weight of Jason’s steady presence; Jason didn’t need to hear it to know. And while Y/N would keep fighting to hold his own ground, there was a part of him—an unspoken, undeniable part—that found comfort in letting Jason hold the world at bay for him.

Their domestic life was a careful dance of their unspoken dynamic, with Jason ensuring their world was secure and steady, while Y/N kept their home—and Jason—centered and whole. Their roles played out naturally, shaped by who they were as individuals. Jason made sure the outside world couldn’t touch Y/N, taking care of the big things, the dangerous things that he’d never let his boyfriend come within a mile of. His presence was a shield, and his devotion ran so deep that sometimes it felt like he’d lay the world at Y/N’s feet if it meant seeing him happy.

Y/N swears there was one time he cracked a joke about wanting to live out his “soft boi” aesthetic—because, obviously, the ‘i’ made it edgier—and Jason, without missing a beat, ran with it without ever looking back.

But Y/N? He was the one who kept their world turning smoothly, the quiet, grounding presence that made sure Jason had a place to fall apart when life became too much. Whether it was stocking the kitchen with Jason’s favorite snacks or simply sitting with him on the couch after a rough patrol, Y/N created the kind of space Jason didn’t even realize he needed—safe, steady, and entirely his.

That balance extended to the little things too. Jason liked to cook when he had the time, his meals always hearty, protein-packed “fuel” designed to keep them going. Y/N, on the other hand, was the one who brought warmth to the table, sneaking in something sweet or comforting—even if it meant slipping vegetables into Jason’s plate, much to his dramatic protests.

“Because it’s pesto,” Y/N replied innocently, grinning as he leaned against the counter. “Don’t act like you’re too good for spinach.”

Jason grumbled something under his breath—something about how spinach was a lie—but ate every bite, proving once again that Y/N knew exactly how to play him.

And then there were the quieter moments—the ones that reminded them both why they worked so well together. Nights spent curled up on the couch, Jason sprawled out with his head resting in Y/N’s lap, his fingers absently tracing patterns along Y/N’s thigh. Y/N would run his fingers through Jason’s hair, the simple, soothing gesture melting away the tension that Jason carried like a second skin. Sometimes they’d talk—about Jason’s patrols, Y/N’s classes, or random nonsense that didn’t matter. Other times, they simply existed together, the quiet hum of their apartment a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the world outside.

But even Y/N, the softer half of their partnership, had his limits when it came to anyone crossing a line with Jason. Like the time a journalist ambushed Jason at a charity event, spouting thinly veiled accusations about his past. Jason had been moments away from snapping, his fists clenching at his sides, when Y/N calmly stepped in.

“If you don’t have something constructive to say,” Y/N said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “then I suggest you find someone else to bother.”

The journalist, thrown off by Y/N’s tone—gentle but edged like a blade—backed off almost immediately. Jason hadn’t said a word about it afterward, but later that night, when they were home, he’d kissed Y/N’s temple and murmured a quiet, “Thank you.”

Y/N was never afraid to step in for Jason when he needed him to, even if Jason wouldn’t—or couldn’t—outwardly ask for it. And the fact that Jason didn’t have to ask made it all the more meaningful for the vigilante. Y/N always seemed to know when to intervene, especially in moments when Jason couldn’t advocate for himself—particularly when it came to Bruce.

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Jason had come home late that night, his steps heavy, his shoulders slumped in a way that told Y/N everything he needed to know before Jason even said a word. Gotham’s chaos could wear Jason down, but this kind of defeated air? That was Bruce’s handiwork.

Y/N didn’t push right away. He let Jason slip into the apartment, kick off his boots, and collapse onto the couch without a word. Jason sat there, his hands hanging limply between his knees, staring blankly at the floor like he was stuck in some internal tug-of-war. Y/N sat beside him, his hand lightly brushing Jason’s shoulder before resting on his thigh—a grounding touch.

“What happened?” Y/N asked softly.

Jason’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply through his nose. “It’s Bruce,” he said after a long pause, his voice raw. “We were handling this case—a trafficking ring. I had it handled, Y/N. I had it. But he pulled the plug on the whole thing because it didn’t fit his goddamn code.” His fists clenched, his knuckles turning white. “There were kids involved, and he still chose the ‘moral high ground’ over what needed to be done. And then—” Jason’s voice broke, and he shook his head, his frustration giving way to something more fragile. “He looked at me like I was the problem. Like I was… too much again. Like I’m always too much.”

Y/N’s heart clenched as he took in the words, the quiet ache that laced Jason’s tone. It wasn’t just the case or Bruce’s stubbornness that hurt him—it was the way Bruce always seemed to find a way to make Jason feel like he’d never be enough, no matter what he did.

Y/N leaned in, his hand sliding up to the back of Jason’s neck, fingers gently massaging the tension there. “You’re not too much, Jay,” he murmured, his voice steady. “Not for me. Not for anyone who actually knows you.”

Jason didn’t respond, but the way he leaned into Y/N’s touch, his head bowing slightly, said more than words ever could.

An hour later, when a knock came at the door, Y/N didn’t need to guess who it was. He stood, sighing as Jason stayed where he was on the couch, visibly tensing at the sound. Y/N opened the door to find Bruce standing there, in some more casual wear (if you could ever call Bruce’s “old money” aesthetic casual), his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Y/N,” Bruce greeted, his tone clipped. “I need to speak with Jason.”

Y/N didn’t move, his hand braced casually against the doorframe. “No, you don’t.”

Bruce blinked, clearly unused to being told no—and even less accustomed to hearing it so decisively. “It’s important.”

“Is someone dead or currently dying?”

The blunt, and sarcastic tone of his words, while it didn’t visually throw the billionaire off, Y/N could see Bruce was surprised by his tone. He didn’t know how, but he clocked the shift in his demeanor. Maybe he was picking up some skills from his boyfriend after all.

“No, but–”

“Then, it can wait,” Y/N said, his tone edge with a finality that left no room for question or pushback.  “He just came home, and I don’t think he needs you piling on more stress right now. Whatever you’ve got to say can wait.”

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line. “This isn’t about stress. It’s about his actions tonight. He—”

“—did what he thought was right,” Y/N interrupted, his voice sharpening just slightly. “And from what he told me, he was right. You’re the one who undermined him and made him feel like he was a problem.”

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Y/N stepped out into the hallway, lowering his voice but not his resolve. “Look, Mr. Wayne, I get that you care about him in your own… specific way. But if you want to keep him in your life, maybe stop treating him like he’s the black sheep who’ll never measure up to your perfect little code. Because right now? You’re the only one who can make him feel like this, and that’s not the kind of impact someone who ‘cares’ should have.”

Bruce’s face didn’t betray much, but Y/N caught the faint flicker of something—guilt, maybe—in his eyes. Still, he didn’t budge. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“No,” Y/N said calmly, stepping back into the apartment and beginning to close the door. “But it is for tonight. Goodnight, Mr. Wayne.”

With that, he shut the door, turning back to see Jason watching him from the couch, his expression somewhere between awe and disbelief.

“Did you really just tell Bruce Wayne to go home?” Jason asked, his lips twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to smirk or shake his head.

“Damn right I did,” Y/N replied, crossing his arms with a small, satisfied huff. “And I’d do it again.”

Jason let out a low chuckle, his hand brushing through his hair as he leaned back against the couch. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?”

“Please,” Y/N shot back with a roll of his eyes. “You act like it’s a big deal. Someone had to say it, and we both know you weren’t going to.” He paused, watching Jason closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And speaking of things you aren’t doing…”

Jason raised an eyebrow, his interest visibly piqued. “Oh? Do tell.”

Y/N leaned forward, tapping Jason’s knee with mock seriousness. “First, you’re going to get off this couch, because moping is not a good look for you. Then, you’re going to help me put away the laundry because I’ve been doing it all day while you were out being Mr. Broody Vigilante. And after that? You’re going to make us both something to eat, because I’m starving and I’m not lifting a finger tonight. You’ve got work to do, big guy.”

Jason blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise before his expression shifted into something darker, sharper. He cocked his head, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, really?” he drawled, his tone low and deliberate as he sat up straighter. “That’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Y/N’s pulse quickened, but he held his ground, leveling Jason with his best faux-bossy glare. “That’s exactly how it’s gonna be. So, get moving, Todd.”

Jason was on his feet before Y/N could blink, towering over him with that quiet, commanding energy that always sent a thrill down his spine. He didn’t say a word at first, just leaned down slightly, his eyes locked on Y/N’s like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You think you’re in charge now?” Jason asked softly, his voice deceptively calm. His hand brushed against Y/N’s jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of his cheek with deliberate slowness. “That’s cute.”

Y/N swallowed hard, refusing to back down even as Jason’s presence enveloped him. “Not cute,” he retorted, his voice wavering just slightly. “Efficient.”

Jason’s smirk widened, and in one swift motion, he scooped Y/N up from the couch, earning a startled yelp that quickly turned into laughter. “Efficient, huh?” Jason murmured, his lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he carried him toward the bedroom. “Let’s see how efficient you are at following orders, then. Because we both know who calls the shots here, don’t we?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, his breath hitching as Jason pinned him with that intense, unrelenting gaze. “Jason…” he started, but his boyfriend was already laying him down on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, the weight of his presence impossible to ignore.

“You wanted me to focus on something else,” Jason murmured, leaning over him, his hands braced on either side of Y/N’s head. “Congratulations, sweetheart. You’ve got my full attention now.”

And just like that, Y/N’s carefully constructed plan to distract Jason had backfired spectacularly—not that he was complaining. If there was one thing Jason was good at, it was reminding him exactly who was in charge.

“Alright, Y/N. Truth or Dare,” his best friend asked, a mischievous glint in his eye as the group sat around in a circle during their weekly de-stresser game night. Of course, their version of game night had taken a more explicit turn—totally par for the course with this group.

“Um… truth,” Y/N said hesitantly, already sensing trouble.

“Oh, perfect,” Seth said, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. “Alright, Mr. L/N, the time has come for you to reveal your truth. Are you a bossy power bottom or a slutty, submissive one?”

The room erupted into a mix of laughter and gasps, with a couple of dramatic “oh my God” reactions thrown in for good measure. Y/N’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tried to form words. Before he could even start to defend himself, someone else chimed in.

“Bro, seriously? What kind of question is that?”

Y/N immediately felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you—finally, someone gets it—”

But then came the follow-up.

“We all know there’s not a dominant bone in his body. If anything, it’s giving brat who likes to be put in his place.”

The room fell silent for half a beat before laughter exploded all around him, punctuated by a few dramatic “damn”s and someone nearly choking on their drink.

Y/N blinked, his brain short-circuiting as the betrayal sank in. “Excuse me?!” he finally managed, his voice high-pitched and offended as he pointed an accusing finger at the culprit.

“I dare you to try and tell me I’m lying,” His friend challenged him with a raised eyebrow. And when Y/N couldn’t formulate a defense for himself, his friend nodded his head knowingly, “Exactly as I thought.”

Because was he actually lying?

“I dare you to tell me I’m wrong,” his friend challenged, one eyebrow arched and a smug smirk tugging at their lips.

Y/N opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out—just the faintest stutter of indignation as his brain scrambled for a defense that simply didn’t exist.

His friend nodded knowingly, leaning back with a triumphant grin. “Exactly what I thought.”

Because, honestly… were they even wrong?

Frankly, if you looked at their relationship as a whole, was it really that surprising?

Jason, in a nutshell, was all rough edges and a protective streak that could rival Fort Knox, but with a kind of intimacy that Y/N never saw coming. It was whiplash in the best way possible. One minute, he was Gotham’s most intimidating vigilante, and the next, he was softly murmuring sweet nothings while holding Y/N like he was the most fragile, precious thing on the planet. Y/N had once joked that Jason was like a human light switch—rough and dominant one moment, soft and needy the next. Now? It was just something he accepted… and secretly loved.

Because the roughness Jason brought into their bed was never just about dominance—it was about claiming. There were nights when Jason would grip Y/N’s hips like he was staking his territory, growling low in his ear as he worked Y/N’s body to the point of trembling. If Jason was feeling particularly territorial—or, as Y/N liked to put it, “possessive alpha wolf mode”—restraints were almost a guarantee. Y/N would be left tied up, squirming and gasping as Jason moved with a kind of intensity that left no room for doubt about who was in control.

And then, like clockwork, came the switch.

Imagine this: a six-foot-something mass of pure muscle and testosterone, who’d just spent the last hour absolutely wrecking Y/N—legs shaking, throat raw from moans that could probably be heard two apartments over—suddenly curling up beside him like the world’s biggest teddy bear. Jason would go from rough, grunting dominance, a man on a mission to leave Y/N marked and molded for days, to nuzzling into Y/N’s neck with soft kisses and quietly demanding to be held like he was the one who’d been put through the wringer.

It was absurd. Completely and utterly absurd. And Y/N? He let it happen every single time. No wonder Jason was so spoiled in their relationship.

What else was he supposed to do when Jason left him in a post-fuck haze so blissed out he couldn’t even remember what year it was? By the time Jason would return from cleaning him up, soft praise slipping from his lips as he gently wiped Y/N down, the fight had already left him. And honestly? Who was Y/N kidding—he didn’t want to fight it. Not when Jason would tuck him against his broad chest like they hadn’t just committed sins the mattress might never recover from.

But here was the kicker: for all the dominance Jason brought into their dynamic, Y/N knew the man craved the quiet moments afterward just as much—if not more. Those moments when Y/N’s hands would slide up into Jason’s hair, gently massaging his scalp, or trace over the faded scars on his chest like they were the most fascinating pieces of art. Jason wouldn’t say much—he didn’t need to. The way he sighed into Y/N’s touch, letting himself completely relax, said everything.

It was a ridiculous dance of give and take: Jason would obliterate Y/N’s body with enough intensity to leave him rethinking all his life choices, only to turn into the world’s biggest cuddle bug immediately after, soaking up every ounce of affection Y/N could give him. And as much as Y/N liked to complain about the whiplash, the truth was that he wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

Because as much as Jason loved being the one in control, Y/N had him wrapped around his finger the moment his fingers slid into Jason’s hair, soothing away the world like only he could. It was a balance only they understood, and it worked in ways no one else could ever pull off.

But it wasn’t just in the bedroom where Jason’s attention shined. Y/N would often catch Jason’s gaze lingering at the most random moments, his blue-green eyes shamelessly raking over him like he was a five-course meal and Jason hadn’t eaten in weeks. Whether it was Y/N lounging around in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, running errands in shorts that rode up just a little too high, or even bundled up in the most unflattering hoodie he owned, Jason’s carnal desire never wavered. If anything, it intensified as their relationship deepened.

Jason didn’t even bother hiding it anymore. Y/N had long stopped being surprised by the firm smack on his ass whenever Jason walked by, followed by the satisfied grin his boyfriend would flash as if to say, Mine.

“Jason!” Y/N would shriek every time, a startled jump or yelp accompanying his protests. But the man never looked the least bit guilty. If anything, he’d double down, grabbing a handful and muttering something along the lines of, “Couldn’t help it,” or, “You’re teasing me.”

The truth? Jason had rules—categories, if you will—when it came to Y/N’s wardrobe. There were outfits Y/N could wear in public, outfits strictly for lounging at home, and then there were the "home only" outfits. And no, "home only" didn’t mean cute loungewear. It was a polite way of saying, for Jason’s eyes only.

“Babe, you’re not wearing that outside,” Jason had said once, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway as Y/N attempted to leave for the gym.

“It’s just a pair of shorts!” Y/N protested, gesturing down at the admittedly form-fitting gym wear that showcased his thighs just a little too well.

“Exactly,” Jason replied, his eyes narrowing. “Those are home shorts. You’re not walking into a gym full of thirsty people in that.”

“Jason, you’re being ridiculous,” Y/N huffed, crossing his arms.

“Maybe,” Jason said with a shrug, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Y/N’s waist. He leaned in, lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he added in a low voice, “But that doesn’t change anything, now go change..”

And that was that. Jason had an uncanny ability to make his tone very rigid and unyielding, leaving no room for argument which would have Y/N’s protests dying on his lips every time.

Then, there were the outfits Y/N didn’t even get to leave the house in—because they didn’t survive Jason. It had become a running joke between them, the sheer number of shirts, pants, and underwear Jason had destroyed in fits of possessive frustration. If something hugged Y/N’s figure a little too well, Jason didn’t bother holding back. Many an innocent shirt had been ripped clean down the middle, casualties of Jason giving in to his urges.

“Do you have any idea how much you cost me in clothes?” Y/N had grumbled once as Jason stood over him, shirtless and smirking like the devil himself.

Jason had only shrugged, pulling Y/N into his lap. “Then stop wearing stuff that teases me,” he murmured, his lips trailing along Y/N’s neck. “Or don’t. Gives me an excuse to buy you more.”

And buy he did. But let’s be real—certain clothes never lasted long in their relationship. Case in point? The time Y/N ordered a pair of shorts he’d been eyeing for weeks, fully aware that Jason would raise an eyebrow so high it’d disappear into his hairline. Still, in a moment of fuck it impulse, Y/N clicked "add to cart," setting the stage for the chaos to follow.

When the package arrived, Y/N pushed the door open with a huff, struggling to balance the various bags and boxes in his arms as he shuffled into the apartment. “Jason, can you help me?” he called, his voice slightly muffled as he tried not to drop anything.

Jason, sprawled on the couch and scrolling through his phone, glanced up. His eyebrows rose at the sight of his boyfriend buried beneath a mountain of shopping bags. “More clothes?” he asked, standing up and strolling over with a teasing smirk.

“Yes, more clothes,” Y/N shot back, setting his haul down on the kitchen counter. “You know, since someone has a habit of destroying half my wardrobe.”

Jason shrugged, entirely unbothered. “What can I say? Some of them deserved it.”

Rolling his eyes, Y/N began unpacking his bags, pulling out folded shirts, joggers, and a few items that were more… adventurous. As Jason retreated back to the couch, Y/N grabbed one of his new purchases and headed to the bathroom to try it on.

A few minutes later, Y/N emerged, ready to test the waters. He stepped into the living room, his expression smug as he strolled in wearing a pair of black shorts that barely qualified as clothing. The sheer mesh fabric, paired with slits running up the sides, left little—if anything—to the imagination.

Jason glanced up, and his relaxed posture evaporated. His gaze sharpened, his smirk vanishing as his eyes darkened with a possessive glint. “Those,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble, “are not leaving this apartment.”

Y/N paused, glancing at Jason’s expression before looking down to examine the shorts. “What? These? Oh, come on, they’re gym shorts,” he said, smoothing the fabric over his thighs. “I can’t wait to test them out during leg day.”

Jason’s jaw ticked, his gaze locked on Y/N like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’re not wearing those to the gym.”

“Jason, don’t start,” Y/N said, stepping closer to the couch—his first mistake. Paired with the loose, cropped tank he was wearing, the look was downright scandalous. He twirled around playfully, flashing a cheeky grin. “See? They’re nice. Functional.”

Jason didn’t reply. He just sat there, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing as Y/N paraded around, pushing the limits. The tension between them was palpable, thickening with every second that Jason didn’t speak. And when Y/N cocked a hip and teased, “What? Don’t like them?”—that was the final straw.

Jason moved so fast Y/N barely registered it. In one fluid motion, he reached out, grabbing the shorts by one of the side slits and yanking hard. The fabric tore with a sharp rip, leaving Y/N stumbling forward with a gasp.

“Jason!” Y/N yelped, his voice equal parts indignation and shock. But before he could gather himself, Jason leaned back on the couch, effortlessly pulling Y/N into his lap. His hands gripped Y/N’s waist, holding him firmly in place as his legs were spread across Jason’s thighs.

“These,” Jason growled, his hands sliding down to Y/N’s exposed skin, “are home-only shorts. Got it?”

Y/N squirmed, pressing his hands against Jason’s chest in a weak attempt to push away. “Jason, you can’t just—”

Another sharp rip interrupted him as Jason’s rough fingers tore at the other slit, leaving the shorts hanging on by mere threads. Y/N gasped, heat rushing to his face as Jason’s hands roamed possessively, smoothing over his bare thighs with deliberate, firm strokes.

“What did I say?” Jason questioned, his voice a dangerous whisper that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. “These are for my eyes only.”

Y/N’s protests dissolved into breathy whines as Jason’s hands tightened around his waist, pulling him closer. A sharp smack landed on Y/N’s rear, drawing a startled yelp, followed by another that left him gripping Jason’s shoulders for balance.

“Stop squirming,” Jason ordered, his tone firm and commanding as he leaned in, his face inches from Y/N’s. His dark gaze pinned Y/N in place as one hand slid to the back of his neck. “You know how this works, sweetheart. You push, I push back.”

Y/N bit his lip, his glare faltering under Jason’s intense stare. At some point, the defiance melted into submission, and their lips collided in a heated, desperate kiss. Jason’s hands never left Y/N’s body, gripping, claiming, and asserting dominance with every touch.

Before Y/N knew it, he was on his knees, Jason standing over him with his pants tugged low enough to reveal just how demanding he was. Y/N didn’t fight it—instead, he leaned into Jason’s command, eager to please the man who had thoroughly dismantled every ounce of his bravado.

By the end of it, Y/N was back on Jason’s lap, legs spread on either side as his body trembled with it being moved roughly up and down on the vigilante’s manhood, his own throbbing hardness rubbing against his boyfriend’s abs as Jason held him close. The only piece of clothing left between them were the shredded remains of the mesh shorts clinging to Y/N’s hips—barely.

Of course, Jason had to replace them with not one, but three new pairs after the fact. But he made it very clear they’d all meet the same fate if Y/N ever dared to wear them outside the apartment.

Did Y/N listen? Absolutely not. Because, let’s be real—he loved pissing Jason off. And honestly? Maybe the whole “brat who likes to be put in his place” thing wasn’t so far off after all.

And, of course, Jason wasn’t the only one who knew how to push buttons. He had his own arsenal of outfits that drove Y/N wild, and he wielded them with precision. Whether it was his compression gear that clung to his chest and arms in ways that made Y/N’s mouth go dry, or his Red Hood attire that practically screamed dominance, Jason loved to see the effect his clothing—or lack thereof—had on Y/N.

“You’re staring,” Jason had teased once, pulling his hoodie over his compression top in the middle of the gym.

Y/N, flustered and blatantly ogling, had tried to recover with a weak, “No, I wasn’t.”

Jason had chuckled, leaning in just enough to murmur, “You were. And I liked it.”

But the real chaos came in the bedroom. Jason, ever the tease, would sometimes refuse to take off his compression shirt or Red Hood pants during sex, fully aware of the primal side it brought out in Y/N.

“Stop, don’t take it off,” Y/N had panted once, his fingers gripping the slick, tight material as Jason tried to pull it over his head. “Leave it on.”

Jason had smirked, leaning down to kiss Y/N’s neck as he growled, “Anything you want, sweetheart.” He knew exactly what he was doing, letting Y/N’s hands wander over the material, the added friction driving him crazy in the best way.

Jason loved pulling that raw, uninhibited side out of Y/N. It was a side only he got to see, and he relished every second of it. Because while Jason loved being the one in control, he also loved seeing Y/N completely undone, lost in the moment with him.

It was, perhaps, a side effect of Jason’s deeply ingrained dominant nature—his unrelenting need to maintain a sense of control over his surroundings and the people within them. Did that mean he saw Y/N as something to control? Absolutely not. But Jason would be the first to admit that the urge to assert himself surfaced now and then. Fortunately, he had found a way to channel it into something far more productive, releasing it in moments of intimacy where it was not only welcomed but eagerly reciprocated.

And those moments of intimacy? They weren’t confined to the bedroom. Jason’s possessiveness bled into every aspect of their lives, a steady undercurrent to the way he loved. His need for control stemmed from a life filled with chaos, and Y/N understood that better than anyone. Whether it was the firm weight of Jason’s hand resting on the back of his neck during a particularly heated moment, or the low, growling reminders of exactly who Y/N belonged to, Jason’s message was always clear: he didn’t just love Y/N—he claimed him, body and soul.

Jason didn’t say much when Y/N walked into their apartment wearing the oversized hoodie. It was one of Jason’s, slightly frayed at the cuffs and just loose enough to drown Y/N’s smaller frame. The sight alone had Jason's lips twitching upward, his ego swelling with unspoken pride. There was something about Y/N wearing his clothes, especially in public, that hit Jason in a way he couldn’t describe. It wasn’t just the visual—it was the claim it represented, the quiet acknowledgment that Y/N was his, and he didn’t even need to say it out loud for the world to know.

“Isn’t this your hoodie?” Y/N asked casually, dropping his bag onto the floor as he walked past Jason toward the kitchen. He sounded innocent, completely unaware of the fire he’d just stoked. “I borrowed it to wear on campus today. It’s so comfy.”

Jason didn’t respond right away, his gaze trailing after Y/N like a predator tracking its prey. He could see how the fabric clung to Y/N’s shoulders and chest, the way the hem barely grazed the tops of his thighs. It was maddening. He let out a slow, measured breath, leaning back into the couch. “Yeah, sweetheart. It’s mine,” Jason finally said, his voice low but even.

Y/N hummed a little as he rummaged through the fridge. “Well, don’t expect to see it for a while. I’m keeping it.”

Jason’s jaw ticked, his fingers tapping against the armrest of the couch. You’re keeping it, huh? The possessive part of his brain whispered promises of retribution, even as he outwardly played it cool. He waited, biding his time.

Later that night, Jason made his move.

Y/N barely had a chance to react before he found himself pinned beneath Jason on the mattress, the hoodie in question already shoved halfway up his torso. Jason’s massive frame hovered over him, his green-blue eyes blazing with a mix of heat and unrestrained hunger.

“You wore my hoodie,” Jason murmured, his voice husky and low, each word dripping with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine.

“Yeah,” Y/N managed to reply, his voice breathless as Jason’s hands slid beneath the fabric, rough palms grazing over his bare skin. “I… I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Jason smirked, leaning down until his lips brushed against Y/N’s ear. “I don’t mind, sweetheart,” he whispered. “In fact, I like it. But you should’ve known what that would do to me.”

Before Y/N could respond, Jason’s lips captured his in a searing kiss, stealing the air from his lungs. The hoodie bunched awkwardly around Y/N’s chest as Jason adjusted their positions, one hand pinning Y/N’s wrists above his head while the other roamed freely, kneading his thighs and gripping his waist.

Jason moved slowly at first, rocking his hips in a deliberate rhythm that had Y/N arching up into him. The friction of the hoodie’s fabric against their heated skin was intoxicating, Jason’s voice dropping into a growl as he murmured filthy words into Y/N’s ear.

“You wore this out in public,” Jason said, his voice dark and possessive as his hand slid up to gently grip Y/N’s throat. “Let everyone see you in my clothes. Do you know what that does to me? Huh? Knowing they all saw you like this, wearing something that smells like me?”

Y/N whimpered, his eyes glassy as he gazed up at Jason. His thighs trembled where they were pressed against Jason’s hips, every sharp thrust pulling more desperate sounds from his lips.

Jason tightened his grip slightly, just enough to send a jolt of adrenaline through Y/N without ever crossing the line. “Next time,” Jason growled, his pace rough and demanding now, “ask me first. Or better yet, let me put it on you myself. Because when you wear this, it’s not just a hoodie—it’s a mark. A reminder to everyone who you belong to.”

Y/N’s head lolled back against the pillow, his hands twisting beneath Jason’s unyielding grip. His voice was barely above a whisper as he replied, “Yours, Jason. I’m yours.”

That was all Jason needed. He buried himself deeper, his hand slipping from Y/N’s throat to cup his jaw as he captured his lips again. By the time they were both spent, the hoodie had become an even bigger mess—damp with sweat and stretched beyond repair. Jason lay beside Y/N, his chest rising and falling as he dragged a hand over the faint marks he’d left on Y/N’s neck.

“You’re not wearing this hoodie out again,” Jason murmured, his tone soft now, though no less firm.

Y/N let out a sleepy laugh, snuggling closer to Jason’s side. “Good thing you’ve got plenty more for me to borrow.”

Jason chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s temple. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Y/N smirked, his eyes fluttering shut. “Not a chance.”

Jason let out a soft laugh, wrapping his arms around Y/N and pulling him closer. Because for all his possessiveness, all his need to dominate and claim, it was moments like this—holding Y/N close, feeling the steady beat of his heart—that reminded him what all of it was really for. Y/N couldn’t help but smile to, because no matter how overwhelming Jason’s love could be, it was also the safest place Y/N had ever known.

Yeah, their love really was like no other. Y/N could absolutely understand why people envied and praised their relationship—it was intense, chaotic, and tender all at once, the kind of connection that made rom-coms look bland by comparison. If he were in their shoes, he’d probably be gushing about it too. Hell, he already did, and he was living it.

But honestly? The next person who came up to him with the audacity to ask if Jason was single was about to catch hands. Y/N normally wasn’t the jealous one in their relationship as it’s been made clear—normally—but there were limits. And some people clearly didn’t know what those limits were.

Just ask that bitch, Xavion…

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[madsxyins]

Mine, Always

pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: Sexual content, Possessiveness, Rough sex, Praise, Degradation, Overstimulation, Language (lmk if i missed something!!)

synopsis: Teasing Paige Bueckers never goes your way, or does it..in paige’s POV

‼️MDNI‼️

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

There are games I win, and games I own.

Tonight? I fucking owned it. On the court, in the stats, and in the one place no one else knew mattered—her eyes.

She was watching me again. Just like always.

Sitting courtside in that cropped hoodie like she didn’t know what it did to me. Legs crossed, lip between her teeth, eyes tracking my every move like I belonged to her. Like she didn’t spend the last week teasing me, testing my patience, saying just the right shit to keep me on edge.

It worked. Every time I scored, I heard her laugh. Every time I broke down the lane, I felt her stare like a hand between my thighs.

And when we won? The way she stood clapping, smiling like she was the prize?

I knew I wasn’t going to make it to sunrise without ruining her.

She was already in the locker room when I got out of the postgame meeting. Leaning against the wall like she hadn’t just spent the past two hours turning me into a fucking animal.

I didn’t say anything at first. Just walked up, slow, my body still pulsing with adrenaline. My jersey was half off, damp with sweat. Her eyes roamed over me, smug and lazy like she was waiting.

“You thought that was funny?” I asked, stepping into her space, pressing one hand to the wall beside her head.

She tilted her chin up. “What?”

I raised an eyebrow. “All that teasing. All that staring. Every time I looked over, your thighs were pressed together like you wanted me to watch you squirm.”

She didn’t deny it. Didn’t even pretend to be innocent.

“I just like seeing you focused,” she said with a smile that made my jaw clench.

I leaned in until my lips hovered near her ear. “No. You like pushing me until I break.”

Her breath caught. I let mine brush over her skin.

“Princess.”

That word wrecked her. I felt her body shift—thighs tightening, breath hitching, hands curling into the hem of her own shirt.

“You’re mine,” I growled, hand sliding to her waist. “Say it.”

She gasped, the sound small and breathless. “I’m yours.”

I kissed her hard, hand gripping her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. When I pulled back, her lips were red and parted, pupils blown wide.

“You want me to fuck you here?” I hissed against her mouth. “Up against these cold-ass tiles so you never forget who you belong to?”

She whimpered.

“But lucky for you,” I whispered, dragging my teeth along her throat, “I’m feeling generous.”

I stepped back and took her hand.

“Let’s go.”

The second my dorm door shut behind us, she was on me—kissing me like she wanted me to lose it. I backed her into the wall, pulling off her hoodie, biting her bottom lip as she moaned into my mouth. I could already feel how hot her skin was. Her heart pounded through her chest.

I lifted her in one motion, and her legs wrapped around my waist like muscle memory. I carried her to the bed and tossed her down, stripping as I went.

She laid there in nothing but her underwear, hair messy, lips kiss-bruised, chest rising fast.

“You gonna behave?” I asked, pulling open the drawer to grab my harness.

She shook her head slowly, defiant and needy. “Not a chance.”

I smirked. “Good.”

I strapped in slow—tightening the buckles at my hips while she watched me with hungry eyes. She bit her lip when I gripped the shaft and adjusted it. She loved watching me wear it. Knew exactly what it meant.

I crawled over her, kissing from her ribs to her thighs, making her squirm.

“So wet already,” I murmured, running two fingers through her folds. She was soaked. Her hips twitched when I circled her clit just once.

“This all for me, princess?”

“Only you,” she breathed.

I leaned forward, dragging the tip of the strap through her arousal.

“You belong to me,” I whispered, voice dark. “You don’t get to act like that in front of everyone and then pretend you’re not aching for me to put you in your place.”

She whimpered. “Please, Paige. I need it—need you.”

I didn’t hesitate.

I slid inside in one long, slow thrust, watching her mouth fall open, her body arching beautifully.

“Fuck,” I muttered, gripping her thighs as I bottomed out. “Look at how you take me.”

I set a rhythm—deep and steady—letting her feel every inch of me. Her nails dug into my back, her moans breaking free with every thrust.

“You tease me in public just to get fucked like this, huh?” I growled. “Is that what you wanted?”

She nodded frantically. “Yes—God, yes—”

I picked up the pace, hips snapping forward, the strap slick from how wet she was. I adjusted the angle until I hit that spot that made her cry out, and then I didn’t stop.

Her legs wrapped around me tighter. Her head dropped back.

“Look at me,” I demanded. “I want to watch you cum for me.”

I reached between us and rubbed her clit fast and hard, just how she liked it. Her moans turned frantic—desperate. Her thighs shook.

“Cum on my cock, princess,” I growled. “Let go. Right now.”

She shattered.

Her back arched off the bed, a strangled scream tearing from her throat as her orgasm slammed through her. Her whole body tensed, walls clenching around the strap, her hands fisting the sheets.

I kept going, working her through it—slow, deep thrusts that made her sob and gasp and twitch.

“You can take more,” I whispered, dragging my fingers down her flushed skin. “You’re mine. You always take more for me.”

She nodded weakly, still trembling.

“I’m yours,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Yours.”

I kissed her lips, her jaw, her chest—softer now, but still claiming every inch of her.

When I finally pulled out, she was completely wrecked. Her skin glowed, her legs still twitching, her eyes dazed with that fucked-out look I’d chase to the ends of the earth.

I laid down and pulled her into my arms, burying my face in her hair.

“That’s what happens when you tease me,” I murmured, brushing my thumb over her hip. “Next time, I won’t be so patient.”

She laughed, breathless and wrecked. “Not sure you were this time.”

I smirked. “You loved it.”

She nodded, eyes already closing.

“Always do.”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶

author’s note: i feel like this is better than the last smut i wrote!!!lmk if i made any mistakes. hope u guys enjoyed reading this!!! lmk if i should start a taglist and if u want to be added! req some stuff i have nothing to do all week lmao

[randomshyperson]

hiii😸

i wanna request wanda with hugs no. 31😻 ur fluff is so good i want to bash my head into the wall

/pos

hope u get free from ur writer's block!!😻

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

prompt: hugging while straddling the partner | words: 2066k | warnings: (+18), dark(ish)!wanda, smut, bottom!reader, dom!wanda mainly, implied variant death sorry, but happy ending for the main.

a/n-> this is the last one actually, i got my drafts confused if you saw more in the masterlist you didn't. i won't be posting anything for a while now just to write new series but I won't be gone for long I hope.

challenge masterlist | general masterlist

-&-

Considering all the things that had happened until she reached this moment, Wanda expected there to be more noise.

Fighting. Or even pain.

Two years and six hundred and eighty-four universes and she had finally found you.

Not a fallen hero version, not an evil clone, not a dead wife.

Just you, available, alive and asleep.

The room was dimly lit by the rays of sunlight that passed through the half-open curtain. Her variant must have gotten up early to prepare breakfast, and Wanda took complete control before she could even open the door. She took in little of the room, mostly focused on your sleeping figure in the bed in the corner, peaceful and vulnerable.

Five universes ago a variant of you had tried to arrest her for crimes against the multiverse, so this calmness was quite the bonus.

She quickly inspected the most recent memories before the deepest ones. This Wanda didn't know she loved you like that, not yet. Young and naive, this variant was rewarded with an entire childhood and adolescence by your side. Friends since kindergarten, the deep intimacy between you was beautiful to watch. Easy to envy.

It was a sadistic joke that in all the universes, she was the only one having a miserable life.

Controlling her own irritation, Wanda pushed those memories away and sighed deeply. You moved, searching for her warmth in the mattress and she wondered if your variant was already sure of what she knew many universes ago. You were made for each other.

She watched you with some curiosity. She still wasn't sure how she would do it. She hardly had a clear plan. She took very deliberate actions now, which was probably why she always ended up with some wizard on the way, close to some interdimensional prison.

But as you woke up, Wanda felt around that reality. There was magic like most, but it wasn't as strong even in the body she occupied now. This Wanda was a beginner witch, with simple levitation or tarot tricks that she could use to make you laugh in admiration.

Your sleepy figure finally opened its eyes, felt the bed, turned your face, and faced her standing in the middle of the room. Wanda felt so small, not at all like the great Scarlet Witch. She was almost like a child, eager to please. To be liked. When you frowned at her, she wondered if you were already able to tell she was a fraud, an impostor.

But your expression softened, and you chucked hoarsely.

 "Were you watching me sleep? Creep."

Oh, you had no idea.

Wanda swallowed, forcing a chuckle. "I wasn't." She lies quickly, pushing away emotional nausea as your tousled-haired, sleepy-eyed figure brings back similar memories of a life she doesn't know how to get back. She clears her throat and looks away so you don't see the tears welling up in her eyes. "I was just going to get breakfast. Do you want anything?"

"Yeah." You chuckle relaxedly, patting the mattress as you rest your elbows on the bed, your back against the headboard. "Come back to bed. It's too damn early."

She sees it then, when the sheet loses in your body and she catches a glimpse of your neck full of purple marks. The most recent memories are indeed different from what she searched for before. Peeking again, it's a bit overwhelming to be invaded by the sensations of your kisses and groping all at once, a night of steamy making out in that bed, after a college party that ended long after the time you and the variant returned to this dorm. Wanda sighs, realizing that this body misses your touch just as much as she does. So addictive for every single one of her, no matter the universe.

But her silence brings a hesitation to your face, and you settle better in bed. 

"Hey, if this is about last night..." You begin, a little awkwardly with a nervous giggle. One of your hands pushes your hair back in a nervous gesture, and Wanda gasps softly. The tattoo on her forearm has very familiar symbols. She searched every corner of the multiverse and ended up with a punk covered in protective runes. This was Strange's work, of course. He was probably going to as many worlds as she was. Protecting variants before Wanda could reach them. Take them for herself. You, oblivious to the whole thing, kept talking. "It's okay if you regret it. We don't even have to talk about it if it's weird. I mean, if you want we can even go back to being just friends, I definitely don't want to lose-"

"You're not." She cuts you off, taking steps towards the bed. You fall silent in surprise, but Wanda forces a smile. "Where did you get that tattoo again?"

You frown at the sudden change of subject, stammering a little as you try to remember and then finally laugh, looking at her with some confusion. "It's just reindeer, remember? That strange woman made it for us at the beach last week. It should go away soon."

Wanda searched a little more and found the memory you mentioned. Beach, friends, witches she didn't know, that this variant didn't know how to perceive yet. A witch using the opportunity to draw protective spells on your skin as if she could read the danger in your future.

She took a deep breath and walked closer until she felt her shins hit your bed.

"Maybe you should take it off now."

You hum absently, looking at the tattoo. "Why? I liked it. You also said it was pretty. Maybe I could even make it permanent-"

"No!" She snaps back through gritted teeth, startling you a little. Forcing a smile then, Wanda considers the options. She probably can't mess with your memory right now, maybe she can keep you calm, until she finds an appropriate solution. "I just... I think your first tattoo should be something more meaningful, sweetheart. And not some cheap art from a charlatan, huh?"

You frown, before your chucle again, looking at her with confusion. "Wanda, are you high?" We got our first tattoos together in high school. Have you really forgotten that?" You look upset. Wanda hates this. Hates it with all her might. Out of everything she’s ever done, hurting you is probably the most painful and stupid thing she ever did.

She shakes her head, forcing a giggle. She bends her knees and crawls towards you, which immediately wipes the frown off your face.

Young people and their hormones.

“Oh, babe, I just got confused. I’m sorry.” She begins, and you swallow hard as she takes her place on your lap. Your hands hesitate on the mattress until Wanda grabs them and moves to her waist. “Don’t be upset.”

With your mouth dry, you try, “I’m not.” but it comes out so hoarse that Wanda wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t been so close. Her hands close behind your head, and you wait for her to make the first move like the good girl you’ve always been no matter what universe.

Wanda shouldn’t risk it, but she can’t resist. You seem so eager for her to do it too that she doesn’t have the heart not to. The kiss starts out innocent, tentative. She wants to know the extent of the protection runes, and eventually, she realizes that you were right about the ink coming off. Wanda manages to turn you into a mess of breathless whispers as she slides her tongue against yours, and once your arms are tightening around her waist, invading beneath her shirt, she can feel the runes melting in your skin, until finally, she feels no magic resistance. You are all hers to play with.

But like everything else she’s done, Wanda didn’t quite calculate what kissing you would do to her. The effect on her body is ridiculously incapacitating and distracting. She knows she should be muttering spells, but all that comes out of her mouth are affected gasps. Your hands move down, grabbing her ass and grinding her against your lap and Wanda forgets what she came here to do.

"I cannot believe..." You groan suddenly, between one kiss and another. "That we've gone so long without doing this." Wanda bites your lip, pulling and making you whimper, the sound sending a sharp throb through her belly. Your dilated pupils stare at her with such adoration that Wanda needs a moment.

She remembers those looks. She remembers everything. And it's only fair that you remember too.

Coming closer, she kisses you more fervently now. Enough to make you squirm on the mattress, trying to pull her down, increase the friction between your hips. But Wanda knows the passion will turn, so she controls the kiss, controls everything.

One of her hands wraps around your hair, and she's still kissing you, taking the air from your lungs as the first memories dance in flashes behind your eyes.

You frown in confusion, trying to pull away, but Wanda kisses you again, and again until you gasp in shock and her magic goes deeper into your mind, invading you without you even realizing it.

Wanda's free hand suddenly goes inside your pants and you gasp against her mouth, surprised by the touch before surrendering completely to her.

Wanda pants into your mouth, and red irises glare at you when you break the kiss with a moan. She's not gentle, her fingers pushing your panties aside and not bothering to collect much of the surrounding moisture before sinking inside, filling you up all at once. She twists her hand, pushing deeper and you whimper into her mouth. Oh, how Wanda missed feeling you like this, coming undone against her fingers. 

There’s a flash of memories again, of a team of heroes and a battle, but Wanda adjusts her hand and her palm presses against your clit, and you break into a moan and throw your head forward on her shoulder. She hums in satisfaction, the hand that’s not inside your pants moving past your hair, to your back in an attempt to calm you. 

The memories will get worse, you’ll remember everything eventually. 

Wanda knows that sooner or later you will- Your hand wraps around her throat suddenly. She’s startled, of course, but the sound sounds much more like a moan than a protest of pain. Your eyes glow the same scarlet as hers, and the once-innocent expression carries a maturity that only memories of a lifetime could give you. Your hips are still moving—hard and fast against her hand, but Wanda feels much less in charge. You squeeze her neck as you come, and she feels so ridiculously turned on that she can barely move her fingers, being used up in the final waves of your climax. Not a second later, your hand pushes hers away, and her body is pushed next. Pressed against the bed with you on top, instead of holding her neck, you hold both your hands above her head.

"I don't know what the fuck is going on, but this is a very welcome way to bring someone back to life."

She chuckles affectedly, with emotion, with lust. A little - a lot - of both. But in the end, emotion wins. The tears in her eyes are indeed from longing.

"It's so good to see you again, darling." She says hoarsely, her hands still clasped on top of her head.

You sigh, loosening your grip without letting go of her. "Wanda, how..." But she looks like she'll start crying, for real, if you have to explain. You sigh again in defeat and soften your gaze. "How about that coffee? And you explain everything to me calmly."

She nods, smiling tearfully. "You'll have to get off of me first." She jokes, but you look at her mouth and get a little closer to her face. 

"Yeah, in a minute. I don't know how long it's been, honey, but you've managed to get even more stunning." 

She laughs shyly. "Good to know you're still a flirt." 

"Only with my girl." That's what you say before closing the distance. Wanda doesn't need to think about anything or worry as long as she has this. No multiverse, no possible dead variants. She has you, and that's all that matters.

[ilovewomenfr]

just take your shit and go

click before reading

ex!abby, bottom!reader

men dni!!!! NSFW

cw: pretty vanilla, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), praise kink, make up sex, idk what else

a/n: yall i thought i would be done this on tuesday. ive been so busy this week w work and life ive barely had time to write. this one’s a bit short but i had to get this idea down. i might improve it some time in the future. not proofreading and i kind of dont like it but thats ok. also requests are open as always. AND THANK YOU FOR SM SUPPORT ON YOU ARE SUCH A NERD! I GENUINELY WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT. xx.

you and your ex broke up two weeks ago, a huge fight blew up between the two of you which is why abby is at the door of your apartment, backpack slung over her shoulder, to collect the rest of her things. when you answer the door, you see abby’s gaze rake over your body.

“seriously abs?” you scoff at her, looking down at your abby’s baggy t-shirt, “do i get my shirt back?” she asks as she rolls her eyes at you, gesturing to the band tee. “oh. uh. yeah. i guess” you respond in a quiet tone.

“do you want a drink or something?” you offer and abby shakes her head, her blonde braid moving along with. the braid she would only take out at home when she was with you. the braid you used to tug on when she was drunk off your pussy to see her half-lidded blue eyes. you lick your bottom lip at the thought before shaking it away.

“are you gonna let me come in?” abby asks in a slightly annoyed tone. you get out of the doorway and allow her to come into the apartment. “most of your stuff is on the couch,” you mumble as you point over to the piles of things you threw onto the couch in a blind rage the night she left.

“aw how sweet of you to put everything on the couch for me.” abby says sarcastically, resulting in an eye roll from you. “just take your shit and go.” you grab a couple boxes and put them on the coffee table. you watch as she starts packing away her clothes into the boxes, standing awkwardly. “so this is it then?” you ask,

“what do you mean?”

“all it took was a fight.”

abby walks over to you, crossing her arms and resting her weight on her hip, “you were the one who told me to get out and never talk to you again, if i remember correctly.”

“because i was mad. i didnt actually expect you to go.” you look up to her eyes, trying to find any trace of resentment, but you find none. instead you still find love, “why are you looking at me like that?” she puts her hands on your waist, instinctively your own arms wrap around her neck. “im not looking at you like anything.”

“you are.” you play with her braid, “you’re looking at me like you still care.” she leans in and kisses you, catching you by surprise. the kiss is full of longing and desire. the way she holds you makes you feel as though a fire is stirring within you. she pulls away and sighs, walking back to the couch and sitting down.

“youre so confusing. i mean you tell me to go then dont want me to go? then you dont even text me for two weeks and when you finally do its because you want my stuff out of the apartment.” you nod, knowing you’re in the wrong here. “but i still care about you y/n.” abby leans back on the couch, practically beckoning you to come and sit on her lap.

you make your way over to the couch, sitting in silence as the both of you look at each other, tension growing in the air. “im sorry. i shouldn’t have told you to go.” you apologize, breaking the silence. “i shouldn’t have left.” her voice is softer than before, her hand find its way to your knee and her thumb brushes soothingly along your skin. the apology hangs over the two of you, and once again your eyes meet. abby’s eyes have a look of desire in them, one you know all too well. that’s all it takes for you to climb over and straddle her.

her hands find your hips immediately, “i’ve missed you, ya know.” you say gently, “prove it.” your hands hold her face and you kiss her again, sensually and slowly. abby’s hands run up your back to your hair trying to deepen the kiss. you part you lips and your tongue meets hers. you almost moan at the familiar taste, but you pull away instead, “does that prove it?” she lowers you onto the couch so you’re below her, “haven’t proved it quite yet.” she murmurs as she captures your lips once more. her hands slide up under your shirt as your tongues dance together, palming and squeezing your breasts, the simple action resulting in arousal shooting down to your core. she captures your moans with her mouth, before planting kisses down your neck, suckling the sweet skin.

moments later both your clothes are on the floor as abby kisses your inner thighs, “abs please” you beg, “i need you.” she looks up at you, “mm look at you begging for me, so needy, huh?” she goes back to sucking and kissing your thighs and you push her head towards your soaked pussy, “abbyyyy please.” you beg, “hm? what do you need pretty girl? need me to eat your pussy?” she nudges your clit with her nose eliciting a needy whine from you. “fuck, just eat me out already! please!” your begs are desperate now, your aching cunt waiting for attention. she pulls your legs over her shoulders and laps your slick, the sensation drawing a shiver from you. your hands clutch her hair as she begins sucking your clit, “fuck abby yeah” the moan is involuntary and in response you feel the vibration of her own.

youre a complete mess under her by the time the knot in your stomach snaps, your release dripping out of you pussy and onto your thighs. abby just keeps going, lewd sounds leaving you and echoing around your living room. she slips her fingers into you and curls them, your back arches as she repeatedly hits your g-spot, “so fuckin pretty when you’re falling apart baby” she murmurs softly. she uses her thumb on your clit and it’s like you’re on top of the world, your cries are becoming pornographic at this point and it’s just egging her on, “yeah, you like my fingers filling you dont you?” she nips your hip, “mmhh yeahhh. fuck baby ‘m gonna cum!” she keeps hitting your g-spot and the pressure building up inside of you reaches its peak, you feel your legs shaking as you cum on her fingers, “youre doing so good for me baby.” she lets you ride out your high on her before sliding her fingers out, “fuck i missed you so much abby” you say, she kisses you, “i missed you too”

tags: @jamiesturniolo

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

Sweet trouble

Pairing: Step!Mother Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 12.7k

Summary: Being left home alone is the perfect time to catch up on all your secret activities. What you don't expect is that your Step Mother has secrets of her own, or that you'll stumble on them accidentally. What will happen when she finds out you've been going through her things?

Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, Stepcest?, masturbation, edging, teasing, oral, fingering, finger sucking, Mommy!Kink, top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader

Masterlist with all my works.

When you woke up this morning, you never, in your wildest dreams imagined that one of your most secret, most shameful desires will come true. It was something you had only seen in fanfiction and maybe twisted porn, but never believed real people did, or that it could in fact, happen to you. Truthfully, if someone had told you such a thing will happen, you would have scoffed and called them crazy.

But you were getting ahead of yourself. Your morning started the way it often did during the summer. You got up and walked down the stairs, to find Wanda sipping her coffee and scrolling through her phone. As usual, she put it away as soon as she saw you and she greeted you warmly.

Wanda Maximoff was your stepmother. She had married your father a little over 4 years ago, but you had known her for almost 5 and despite having a rocky start with the woman, you actually had a great relationship with her. She was warm and sweet and she never treated you like a child, nor did she try to “replace” your actual mother, who did her best to stay in your life. In fact, Wanda treated you with respect and kindness and you soon saw her as a friend.

Well… That wasn’t entirely true. You started seeing her as a friend at first, but over the years that connection shifted. She talked to you about the things your parents never wanted to, she always listened without prejudice or judgement and gave amazing advice. She also cared about your interests and she supported all your hobbies and little projects and she even often helped you.

Wanda was there when you decided to make a replica of the “T.A.R.D.I.S” from “Doctor Who” and spent an entire weekend helping you build it, so it would end up perfect, she watched every scary movie you asked for, because you could never bring yourself to do it on your own, and even though you were both scared, she always pretended not to be. For your sake. And then, when you were too scared to sleep alone, she pretended to fall asleep on the couch and let you snuggle into her, even if her back hurt the next day. She encouraged your writing, she read every book you ranted about… She supported you when you came out. For all those things and so much more, you gave Wanda your love.

Unfortunately for you, those were also the reasons why at some point, you stopped seeing Wanda as a friend and started seeing her as the woman of your dreams. Yes, cheesy. But true. And that idea gnawed at you ever since you stopped trying to lie to yourself.

The truth is, you spent way more time with Wanda than your father ever did. He was good, a good man and a good father, but his work often had him travelling for long. When you were young, he often took the whole family with him. Had private tutors for you, made sure you were educated by the best and brightest and the love of learning connected you together. But as you grew older, that life drove your mother away. To make the matters worse, he realized you needed stability just around the same time he met Wanda and soon, you were left in the big house, surrounded by housekeeping and your new stepmother, while he was away for months at a time. But at least he let you attend high school, instead of hiring more tutors, so you wouldn’t feel so alone.

You often wondered why Wanda chose to be with him when you, his daughter, knew more about her, spent more time with her and, you were sure, loved her far more than he did. But you never dared to ask and she never spoke of that, preferring to focus on you instead and you reciprocated that interest. You watched her favourite sitcoms with her, spent afternoons making pottery with her, which resulted in way too many crooked ceramic mugs in your home that you never knew what to do with, but loved too much to throw away. You taught her calligraphy, after you showed her your first story and she declared that you have the “prettiest handwriting” and asked you to teach her. In turn, she gave you cooking lessons, because her food was by far, the best thing you had tasted, until it became a tradition that you made dinner together.

God, you shared so much of your life, so much of yourself with the woman, you gave so much of yourself to her, that it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that you ended up falling for her. And her way with you didn’t help matters either. And yes, it wasn’t something outrageous. It was little things, like the way she’d hold you, pulling you closer into her side during movie nights, which by the way were almost every night. It was the way she sat with you on the couch in the study, reading her book while you did homework, mindlessly playing with your hair, it was her protective on the small of your back, when you felt surrounded by people, the way she always knew when you needed her to step in and save you from strangers, or the soft way she held your hand when you went somewhere together…

It was never one thing. It was a million little things and each one had you falling more and more deeply in love with her, until you couldn’t deny it anymore. You realized it during your junior year, when all your friends wouldn’t shut up about boys and their crushes and all you would think about was Wanda. What plans you had with her, what you’d watch with her, what meal you’ll be making together, where you’d go over the weekend… It was all Wanda. Even in your dreams. And to make matters worse, those dreams soon manifested into your waking hours, flooding your thoughts with nothing but her.

Now, the beginning of summer after senior year, when you had decided to take a gap year before college and focus on yourself, your writing, perhaps even travelling, you were fully aware that you wanted none of those things without her. You hadn’t booked a single destination, because you hadn’t yet the courage to ask if she’d join you. You had stopped showing her your stories, because they were all about her and despite your best efforts had turned highly suggestive and then straight up erotic, up to the point that they no longer soothed you, when you thought of Wanda, but rather left you even more turned on and needy.

The neediness, unfortunately for you, had been another new development. No matter how many cold showers you took, how many times you masturbated to thoughts of her, the ache between your legs never quite went away. Actually, every time you’d see her, every night when she cuddled you and played you a movie, every evening when you helped her make dinner, each hot afternoon spent at the pool with her, left you a horny mess.

Today, after you helped Wanda make breakfast, that the two of you shared, she asked you if you’d like to go out with her. She had some errands to do and she promised to make it fun, despite the tediousness, offering you lunch at your favourite restaurant, or perhaps a small shopping trip in the afternoon, but you declined, opting to stay home instead.

To be fair, you wanted to go with her, you wanted to spend every second you could with her, but being left home alone meant that you could perhaps catch up on your writing without her seeing you and asking to read your story, or finally take care of the ache between your legs that lately never went away, but you were never alone for… Maybe even do it, the way you so often longed for, but never could… God, you were a twisted girl. But you couldn’t help it. You just wanted her so much.

Wanda seemed a little bit surprised and frankly disappointed by your refusal, but she took a deep breath and she wished you a nice day, before she took her purse and her car keys, phone tucked in the back pocket of her tightly fitted jeans and she left, putting on her stylish sunglass, before opening the front door and disappearing from your view.

As soon as she was gone, you rushed to the study, reaching out behind a cluster of old, dusty books and taking out the Paperblanks hardcover journal dedicated to Edgar Allan Poe that she got you as a gift. It was beautiful and stylish and filled with all the stories you wrote about her.

As soon as the notebook fell open, you saw the last page you had written on and your fingers traced the last paragraph, reading through it. “You don’t hesitate when your fingers lace with my hair, your grip firm as you hold me in place and you study my face. My mouth open, my tongue sticking out as it awaits your dripping pussy...” Yes, you remember that and your legs instantly cross over each-other at the wave of arousal, but you keep it at bay.

For the next few hours all you do is write. Your fantasies running rampant and free and filling the pages. It was almost a trans-like state, your hand moving almost on its own while the images in your head played out in front of your eyes. It felt freeing to be able to “share” your thoughts somehow, even if no one ever saw them and you only reluctantly stopped, when your stomach growled for food and your hand was cramping.

You made your way to the kitchen, groaning, your writing session had left you wet and so needy, that despite your instincts and Wanda’s voice in your head, telling you to eat something heathy and filling, you pulled out a fruit yogurt with mango and maracuja and ate it, leaning on the counter, wanting to stretch your legs a little.

Finished with your “meal”, you headed upstairs, making your way to the bedrooms. Yours was at the end of the hall and you headed for it, but stopped mid-way, when you saw Wanda’s bedroom door was slightly ajar and you stopped right in front of it, debating with yourself. You knew you shouldn’t go in, that it was an invasion of her privacy, but your heart was so full of longing for her that you eventually reasoned, that you’ll only look around… Just get her scent in your nostrils and leave.

As soon as you walked in, your eyes started to search the unfamiliar space. It’s not that you’ve never been here, but the room was so alien to you, one you’d spent the least time in, that it almost didn’t feel right. You certainly never dared be so inquisitive, when Wanda was there with you.

Your eyes scanned every object, every photo, most of which were of you and Wanda and you allowed yourself to breathe in the aroma of everything Wanda. It smelled like clean sheets and her favourite vanilla and Himalayan magnolia air freshener, like her perfume and just something uniquely her. God, you’d roll around in it if you could.

Everything seemed so perfectly in order, her bed made and without a single crinkle in it, the room so pristine and clean. It was lovely, and your heart skipped a beat at the thought that you wished you could wake up here, next to her each morning.

Walking further into the room, your curiosity almost entirely satisfied now, you ran your fingers over the objects she had on display. Souvenirs from trips the two of you had went to, her certificate for completing a “beginners” course in Latin dances, that she only went to for you and that you had stopped attending, because you hated how every man in the studio drooled over her, the ceramic figurine of a cute bear that you made her one time, a bowl of sea shells that the two of you had collected last summer at the beach…

You were just about ready to leave, when the sight of a drawer, half-open and because of that seeming out of place, caught your attention. Everything was so perfectly in order in this room, that it looked so strange to see it left like this and you went to it thoughtlessly, pulling it open to inspect its content, only to gasp in surprise at what you found there.

It was full of toys. Sex toys, to be exact and you couldn’t help but stumble backwards a little at seeing just how many there were. Dildos in all colours, shapes and sizes and made from different materials were organized, each in its individual place. Handcuffs, soft Velcro cuffs and steal, regular ones easily distinguished. Ropes, blindfolds, some butt plugs, vibrators, lube, a couple of harnesses and even other things that you couldn’t name or guess the intended use of, could be seen laid out and you studied them with deep curiosity.

Did Wanda use all these? Did she lay here, in her big, soft bed and play with herself at night? What did she think about? Who did she picture in her fantasies, when she buried one of these toys inside herself? Did she do it slowly, or did she like it rough? How did it feel to be stretched out and full?

As your mind was flooded with questions, you mindlessly got closer, your hand reaching into the drawer and your fingertips grazing a rather large, realistic looking dildo. You’d never actually seen toys in real life, so the sensation was both strange and exhilarating. Sure, you were 19 now and could buy them if you wanted to, but the thought just never appealed to you.

You just couldn’t picture it. You’d never had anything other than two of your fingers inside yourself and it had already felt too much. You couldn’t even imagine what something so big would feel like or would do to you. Did Wanda enjoy the feeling of them? Did she ever wear her harness and bury one of these inside someone or did she like to be on the receiving end? You certainly liked to imagine yourself on the receiving end of one of her toys, especially after you learned of her past with women. She had shared those details when you came out to her, hoping to soothe you and help you feel like you’re not alone, but you never imagined that you’ll one day walk into your stepmother’s bedroom and find so many toys, or that you’ll find yourself wishing you could see her play with them… God, the one you reached for looked so big, so thick in your hand. That could never fit inside you.

Yet the thought of Wanda stepping into her harness and picking out a dildo from her collection, while you waited for her in the bed, spread out and so needy for her, had your legs squeezing together in search for relief. Would she tie you down? Would she be sweet and soft? Would she use her fingers and her mouth? What would it feel like to have your arms wrapped around her, to be able to kiss her, as she had her way with you?

Fuck, you needed relief. And you needed it now. And you knew you should just go to your room and do what you always did, but this time you couldn’t. You couldn’t just close your eyes and picture Wanda, when here, in her room, all your senses were surrounded by her.

You hesitated for a moment, considering the danger, but it was still early and all the staff had the next few weeks off, so you knew you’ll be all alone. You could just… Lie down. Not even under the covers, just on top of her sheets and maybe pull your panties to the side. They were all wet already. You’ll just pull your dress up and take care of that ache and then you’ll fix Wanda’s bed and leave.

You knew it was a bad idea, but in your brain, clouded by lust, you couldn’t help yourself and gave in. So you did exactly as you planned, the skirts of your dress bunched up around your waist, your panties pulled to the side, while your fingers circled your clit. You lay on your stomach, you face buried in Wanda’s pillow and inhaling her scent as your mind filled with images of her. It was wonderful. God, it was heavenly. But it wasn’t enough. Before you knew it, you had made yourself orgasm twice already, but the desperate feeling never went away. You needed more.

You slowly turned, laying on your back, your hand finding its way back to your clit, but it was only a measure to keep you calm while you thought. What could you do? And almost like fate, your face turned to the open drawer full of toys and an idea sparked inside you. You could… No, that was an extremely bad idea. It was wrong… But maybe, it could help?

Getting up, telling yourself you’ll only take a quick look, you made your way back to the drawer and looked inside. You had no idea how to choose, so you trusted your instincts, picking a fairly small, pink dildo that seemed to look cute and entirely forgetting what a terrible idea this was, you made your way back to Wanda’s bed with giddiness, lying on your back and looking the toy over for a moment, before reaching down.

You rubbed the toy’s head against your opening, getting it slick with your juices and teasing your clit a little, before you started to slowly push it inside. The stretch felt unfamiliar, the toy, despite being small, still being larger than your fingers and you took your time to let it sink in deeper, allowing your pussy some time to adjust to it.

In just a few minutes, you had it fully inside you, the base pressing against your opening and oh, it was perfect. It was exactly what you needed and you quickly reached down with your free hand, finding your clit and adding the extra stimulation. Thoughts of Wanda quickly made their way into your head and you started to imagine the older woman doing exactly what you did to yourself, her hands working you perfectly, while her velvety voice wrapped around you and made you lose yourself entirely.

Taking your time to let it unfold, your body buzzing with excitement and pleasure, your muscles tightening, you knew you were about to have one of the best orgasms of your life, when suddenly, you heard the front door open and shortly after shut itself.

Fuck!

Sitting up, you heard Wanda’s keys land in the bowl with yours and your nervous anxiety hit a new high, when she called out your name form the living room.

Fuck!

She’d start looking for you soon, if you didn’t act quickly! God, what do you do? You needed to get out of there!

Your eyes roamed around the room nervously, toy still buried inside you and you knew you couldn’t put it back like that, covered in your slick! She’ll see it eventually and then she’ll know what you did. In the rush of the moment, you did the only thing you thought would be smart. You put your panties back where they belonged, seeing the imprint of the dildo against them and you got out of her bed. You tried to smoothen it as much as you could, but you herd her voice call out your name again, this time from the kitchen and you knew she’ll come up the stairs next. In a rush, you just closed her drawer and practically ran out, leaving the door slightly ajar as it was and you hesitated if you should go to your room, but before you could make your way there, you heard Wanda’s steps as she ascended the stairs and you knew there will be no time.

Closing your eyes for a moment, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress and feeling the fullness as you tried to calm your nerves, you committed to the decision you knew you had to make and despite every instinct of yours, you rushed towards her, meeting her just as she was at the top of the stairs.

“Ah, Y/N, there you are! I was calling you.” She smiled as she saw you, reaching out to give you a hug.

“Yeah, I heard you, I was just coming to meet you.” You manage to say, forcing a smile.

“Are you all right, honey?” The older woman’s eyebrows furrowed. “You look a little flushed.” She said with concern, one of her hands reaching out to feel your forehead. “And you feel warm too.” She determined, her eyes scanning you.

“Yeah, I’m all good.” You tried to reassure her, still practically blocking the older woman’s path.

“You sure?” Wanda asked once more, concern evident in her eyes and you tried to calm your nerves.

“I promise.” You tried to say with conviction and hoping your knees wouldn’t buckle.

“Ok, honey, but if you feel unwell, you’ll tell me, right?”

“Of course.” You smiled warmly and, seeing that the woman seemed to be going to her room, the place where you had just been, you tried to dissuade her. “Hey, I was wondering, could we have pasta for dinner today? The one with the special sauce you make?”

“Sure, honey.” Wanda beamed, her hand stroking your cheek softly before she moved past you. “Let me go get changed and we’ll go make it together.” She suggested.

Not wanting to seem weird, you let the woman pass and after watching her enter her bedroom, you actually relaxed a little, thinking that you could use this time to go back to your own room and pull out the dildo still nestled inside you, when her voice forced you to stiffen once more.

“Hey, honey, why don’t you go and take out the vegetables from the fridge and start washing them? I’ll be right down.” Wanda called out, interrupting your train of thought and destroying any chance you had of going through with disposing of the cursed toy.

“Ok.” You called out, facing the stairs defeatedly.

In your guilt over what you did, you felt like you couldn’t risk saying “no” and going to your room instead, not wanting to rouse Wanda’s suspicion. So, a little wobbly on your legs and feeling even more aroused than when you first went in her bedroom, you walked down the stairs, doing exactly as she asked, planning how to excuse yourself later and pull the damned thing out of you.

Wanda walked into her bedroom and started to unbutton her shirt, asking you to start dinner as she went, but suddenly stopped, her eyes narrowing. It wasn’t that there was something particularly wrong, it’s just that something felt out of place and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Shrugging, she tossed her shirt on an empty chair and started to take off her jeans next, leaving herself in just her underwear and going to the closet to pick out more comfy clothes. She put on a pair of black sweats and took out a dark red top that she knew you loved and put it over her head, turning to leave, when her eyes narrowed again.

Her bed was all wrinkled and the covers were looking lumpy and it bothered her somehow. Did she leave it like this today? She leaned down and started to fix it, her hands smoothing the covers and tucking them in as she always did, when her palm ran over a damp spot. Now this really caught her attention and she inspected it more closely.

It looked like a small wet spot, more visible now that she knew to look for it and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Had you been here? But why would you be on her bed? That didn’t make sense, until a realization came over her, like pieces of a puzzle coming together. Your flushed face, the way you tried to block her path, how out of breath you seemed and this… The state of her bed… She suddenly straightened, rushing to her drawer.

As soon as she opened it, she knew what you had done. She knew her collection very well, knew exactly what she owned and where it was, so the absent pink dildo was like a glaring hole in the middle of her drawer. But why hadn’t you put it back? Had she gotten home and interrupted you? That seemed more and more likely and at the thought, she could only sigh.

Wanda was a lot of things, but stupid just wasn’t one of them. She realized you had a crush on her somewhere around the end of your junior year and at first the thought scared her. Sure, she had noticed you turning into a beautiful young woman, she wasn’t blind, and you had already shared with her that you were gay, but she never imagined you’d develop feelings towards her. Naturally, she thought it was simple curiosity. You were growing, it was normal. It would probably go away on its own. You were surrounded by girls your own age, with young bodies and unburdened by life, so she believed you’d soon move on.

But as time passed those lingering looks you gave her started to be accompanied by something else. A kind of longing in your eyes, a kind of shy almost hope that she couldn’t quite place. Until eventually she did. Wanda knew you better than anyone in the world, she knew what made you tick and as she watched your gaze follow her, while she sipped wine, your eyes fixed on her lips and your legs squeezing together, she realized that your relationship with her had changed. You saw her differently.

That thought scared Wanda more than she ever expected and she excused herself quickly, practically running to her bedroom and burying her face in her pillow and her first thoughts were for you. She felt terrible, imagining how scared you must be, how sad and disheartened to be infatuated with your father’s wife. She kept thinking about how alone you must feel, not being able to tell anyone. How heart wrenching it must be to spend every day with her and know she was with another.

In her eyes you were her girl and she held so much love for you that the knowledge that she caused such feelings inside you, that she caused you so much pain, was devastating to her. After realizing what really bothered you, she spent so many sleepless nights, thinking of you. And in her love, she thought the best thing for you would be to pull away from you.

Yes, she didn’t love your father anymore… If ever. He was hardly ever home, hardly ever spending any time with her, always promising to retire, but never doing so… The only reason she stayed all this time was always you. She married him because she wanted a family, never expecting that she’ll find that in you. And when she had… Well… That made her choice very easy. But you were such a young girl. An old soul, admittedly, but still so young. She couldn’t let you spend those sweet years pining over your stepmother. So pull away she did.

Little did she know how devasted you’d be, feeling her absence as a hole in your heart and crying so many nights, when you thought that she no longer wanted your presence. She watched your heartbreak from afar, hating herself for it, yet thinking it would be for the best, until one night, when she heard you speak to one of your friends on the phone.

Your broken voice almost made her cry then and there and she vowed to never do that to you again. So she made sure that things went back to normal, to the routine the two of you had, but she never quite stopped noticing how the love in you bloomed.

The summer vacation after your junior year she spent entirely with you, having a grand time going to the beach, sunbathing, while you read books and drank cocktails together. Yours virgin, of course. But she’d let you have a sip from hers every once in a while, to indulge your curiosity. She’d rather let you drink with her and make sure you’re safe.

Then came your 18th birthday and the party you hosted at the house, you and your friends having fun around the pool and she thought that with all these people around you, you’d lose interest, but you never did. After everyone was gone, all you wanted was to cuddle up to her on the couch and watch your favourite movie with her. You always preferred her to anyone else, chose to stay home and try new recipes, rather than go out and she thought that perhaps this thing you felt for her was serious.

And once that knowledge settled inside her, it no longer bothered her. And with acceptance came something else. Something she never thought she had in her. A kind of curiosity of her own.

Obviously, she was flattered to know you had such feelings for her. You were a young, sweet thing, your life was just starting and she… How could she take advantage of you?

Then again, you didn’t make it easy for her. The way young girls did, you flirted boldly, openly and in gestures of sudden bravery. You flaunted yourself to her whenever you got the chance. Wearing skimpy bathing suits and even asking her to fix the strings for you, asking her to go shopping with you and dragging her into lingerie stores, showing her different sets and asking her opinion, wearing short dresses and tight shorts whenever she was around, which happened to be all the time… Asking her to watch scary movies with you in your room, cuddling into her in nothing but your panties and a t-shirt and then asking her to stay when you were too scared to stay alone.

Ugh, you were a tease. She’d feel you wiggle unnecessarily, so you’d “settle” and you’d blush furiously anytime she so much as looked at you. She’d wake up with your back pressed against her front, your ass pressed up against her as you slept happily, and every time you’d pull one of those stunts, she’d feel you chip away at her resolve.

You were so soft, so sweet, such a delicate thing, your skin smooth and flawless under her fingertips. Whenever you’d ask her to stay with you, falling asleep on her shoulder, she couldn’t help but stroke the exposed skin of your bare arms, the length of your thighs, just to feel you. It was a small action, was it not? Done out of curiosity. And it soothed her to be able to get this small thing for herself, since she had promised herself not to take you entirely.

Your last year of high school passed like that, with you parading yourself and eventually Wanda broke. She told herself she’d never make a move on you. It was wrong, but she needed an outlet for her frustration. That’s how she first spent a night thinking of you while she touched herself. Not that thoughts of you hadn’t crossed her mind before, but she always pushed them away. But when she no longer could, that one action broke the dam.

The images of you flooded her mind constantly and she found herself seeking relief in the privacy of her bedroom, imagining she had you to play with. She thought of all the gloriously depraved things she could do to you, the things she could teach you and all the ways she could corrupt you. It would be so sweet.

It got worse as your feelings progressed and she’d often wake to the sounds of your moans in the middle of the night. The first time such a thing happened she rushed to your room, thinking maybe you’re in pain, only to see you sprawled on your bed, legs spread wide and your hand moving furiously in your panties. You thought you were being quiet, that you were being subtle, but honestly, she could sometimes make out the way you called her name as you made yourself cum.

Now, looking in her drawer of toys and realizing what you’d done, she tried to let it go, but she just couldn’t. You went behind her back, sneaked into her bedroom, snooped through her things, used her toys and masturbated on her bed. As much as she was impressed by your boldness and surprised to find that your desire for her went that far, she was furious. You didn’t even have the decency to hide it well! Why didn’t you just wash the toy and put it back? Did you still have it? Ugh, she was angry!

She knew you probably didn’t mean for it to go this far, but she just couldn’t help it. How was she meant to stay away from you, to keep her resolve and refrain from marching down and fucking you senseless, when you did such things? She had to teach you a lesson.

Her fingers clenching over the edge of the drawer, knuckles turning white, Wanda was ready to slam it shut and storm down the stairs, when her eyes landed on a pink remote control. It was for the dildo you had used and she was surprised you hadn’t taken that too, before she realized you probably had no idea it had a vibrating function. Or maybe you hadn’t gotten that far. Who knows? Either way, an idea sparked into her head and she decided to test a theory and if she was right, tonight she’ll teach you a lesson and pay you back for every time you’d teased her, every time you paraded yourself in front of her, every time you tempted her and made her crave you.

In the back of her head, she knew what this decision meant. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. If she went through with it, she’d go all the way. Closing her eyes and breathing in, she tried to think clearly, but she had reached the end of her restraint, the end of her self-control. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t want this anymore. She had to have you.

Taking the small remote control, she put it in the pocket of her sweats and she walked down the stairs. She found you prepping the vegetables, just as she asked, your cheeks still flushed, but you tried to act as normal as possible. With a smile, Wanda did the same, starting to make the dough for the homemade pasta and starting up a light conversation with you.

“So, honey, what did you do today?” She asked sweetly.

“Oh you know, just normal things…” You trailed off as your legs squeezed together.

“Yeah? Did you finish the new book I told you about?”

“No, not yet. But almost. I’m so excited to see what happens.” You tried to feign interest, but Wanda knew you. You hadn’t read a page. “What about you, did you have a nice day?”

“Nice isn’t how I’d describe it. But I’m glad to be home.” She responded shortly. “You know, sweetie, why don’t you get the sauce started and leave it on the stove, I’ll watch it while I make the dough and you can sit down. You still look a little flushed.” She suggested and you sighed with relief at her offer, doing as she asked, finishing as quickly as possible and making your way to a chair in the kitchen, sitting down and watching her cook, the way you have so many times before.

Except, as soon as you sat, you realized it was a mistake. The dildo, still nicely nestled inside you, was pressed against the surface of the chair and pushed as deeply as it could go, causing you to let out a small whimper at the feeling of being so full and even with her back to you, Wanda knew that her suspicion was right.

“What was that, dear?” She turned to look at you for a moment, your legs squeezing together so tightly your muscles shook.

“N-nothing…” You stuttered out, a hand gripping the edge of the table.

My, you were so responsive. You must have been close, if you were this worked up. How delightful. Wanda was going to have so much fun with you.

Unaware of how closely you were being watched, or of the wicked plan your stepmother had formulated for you, you started to gently rock on the chair, the movement bringing brief relief to the aching between your legs. But Wanda wasn’t going to let you just fuck yourself right in front of her. If anyone was going to fuck you tonight, it was going to be her.

Reaching into her pocket, she felt around for the buttons of the remote control and she turned it on and let it start at the lowest setting. Your reaction was instantaneous. You gasped, trying to do it quietly and softly, but she heard you none the less.

Feeling the dildo start to vibrate had you stiffen on the chair. God, did your slow grinding press the start button on the device? It was possible. Now you felt the gentle hum of the lowest setting and it drove you crazy. Perhaps with some concentration you could ignore feeling the toy inside you, but you couldn’t contain yourself like this. It was nestled at the deepest parts of you and vibrating against an especially sensitive spot and it had you shaking.

“Wanda, I think I’m going to lie down.” You suddenly said, swallowing hard and preparing yourself to stand.

“Oh, sweetheart!” She gasped when she turned to you. You looked a mess and it was absolutely breath-taking. She always wanted to see you like this. Now that she was so close, she wasn’t going to let you slip away so quickly. “What’s wrong? You seem even more flushed. And your forehead is so hot, baby, maybe you should lie down on the couch, so I can take care of you.” She suggested with concern. “I’ll bring you a cool cloth for your forehead and a glass of water.” She suggested, offering you her hand and guiding you to the couch.

“No, you don’t have to do that, I’ll just lie down upstairs for a bit.” You tried to protest, following her lead on instinct, despite your wish to escape to your room, but she was having none of it.

“But, sweetie, you can barely walk.” She argued, guiding you to the couch. “Look at that, you’re shaking. Lie down here for me, honey. I’ll take care of you.” She suggested, helping you lie down.

She went to grab you a glass of water, just as she promised and, on her way back, she watched you squirm and try to contain the sensations going through your body. When she made you drink at least some of the water, she left the glass on the table and she went to get you a cool cloth for your forehead, but not before sticking her hand in her pocket and increasing the speed of the vibrator.

A loud moan graced her ears just as she did it and she could hardly contain her smirk as she walked back to you.

“Now, honey, you stay here and rest and I’ll go check on dinner and I’ll be right back, ok?” She explained with a soft voice and she stroked your cheek affectionately, basking in the state you were in.

Your cheeks were burning with a mixture of arousal and shyness, your whole body squirming with need, even your hips bucking, when you thought Wanda wasn’t looking, loving the stimulation, yet needing so much more. Fuck, she could play with you like this for hours. If she had it her way, she’d strip you down first, of course, but there was plenty of time for that later. She’d watch you writhe and make you beg to be allowed to cum, push you to admit what you did and then tease you some more as punishment for it. And once you’ve surrendered, she’d make you cum over and over again, until you can’t take anymore. She’ll take your shaking little body upstairs and help you get cleaned up, so she can cuddle you to sleep. But she was getting ahead of herself.

She went to check on the pasta and the sauce you were making, stirring the pots and making sure that it wouldn’t get burned. She often looked at you at the corner of her eye, watching you writhe and, deciding to take pity on you, she clicked the off button on the remote control in her pocket, seeing you instantly settle in both relief and frustration. It was obvious you wanted more, that you needed that orgasm badly, but you didn’t want to get caught and Wanda smirked to herself. She’ll make you beg for an orgasm soon enough.

In the next minutes she let you rest, while she set up the table and finished dinner, not wanting to overwhelm you too much too early. She came over to you carefully, checking to see if you managed to put yourself together and you indeed looked much better. The frustration from the teasing and edging was obvious, but other than that you were holding up quite well and she smiled.

“Hey, honey, how are you feeling?” She asked softly. “Do you think you can come to the dinner table, so we can eat, or should I bring your food here?” She suggested, smiling.

��I’ll come to the table.” You agreed, removing the damp cloth from your forehead and taking her hands, so you could stand.

“Ok, baby, wash your hands and let’s eat.” She smiled softly at you.

Once you settled, poorly hiding a whimper when the dildo was once again pressed into your depths and against your most sensitive spots, you struggled to find topics for a conversation, but Wanda distracted you, telling you about her day and keeping your mind occupied while you ate. It was still hard to keep your urge to grind down on the toy sometimes, especially when Wanda would look at you with those pretty green eyes and swirl the wine in her glass, before sipping it. How could she be so sensual without even trying?

“Wanda, I think I’ll head upstairs. I feel tired.” You tried to excuse yourself after the meal was finished.

“Oh, really?” She said with disappointment in her voice. “You sure? I was thinking we could watch a movie together.” She suggests, pouting at you cutely and melting your heart.

“I don’t know…” You hesitated, wanting to stay, but feeling your walls contract around the dildo inside you and almost making your legs buckle.

“Maybe for a bit?” She offered with hope in her eyes. “You lie down and pick anything you want to watch and I’ll make us some popcorn. If you’re still not feeling well, I’ll help you upstairs.”

You tried to refuse her, you really did, but the truth was, that you could never say “no” to Wanda Maximoff. She was your greatest weakness and you knew you’d do anything she asks, no matter what, so you settled onto the couch, searching through the movie options and finding one that looked promising, while she brought over the big bowl of popcorn she made, sitting down next to you and pulling you into her side, just as she always did, kissing the top of your head affectionately.

You played the movie, trying to distract yourself and reminding yourself that all you had to do is get through the movie with her and then you’ll go to your room and have all the orgasms you wanted. It was just a couple of hours with Wanda.

But you’d barely gotten through the intro, when the vibrator came to life with a sudden buzz and you had to refrain from grinding against the couch at how good it felt. But that’s all the restraint you could show and you quickly realized Wanda was looking at you with concern.

“What’s the matter, sweetie? Is everything all right?”

You barely nodded, pretending to watch, when all you could do was do your best to stay still in Wanda’s hold. God, how did this thing turn on again? How do you stop it, before you have an orgasm, right there, sitting next to the woman you were desperately in love with? Worse! What if she hears the vibration? Could she hear it right now?

It was driving you crazy and holding back became increasingly difficult as time passed, your breathing going more erratic and just when you thought that it will happen, regardless if you wanted to or not, the vibrations suddenly stopped.

“Did you say something, honey?” Wanda turned to you once more, making you realize that you had whined pretty loudly.

“N-no.” You stutter out, shaking your head and she barely contains the smirk forming on her face, before it gives away just how much she’s enjoying this.

She gives you a break, letting you calm down, before she turns on the vibrator again, startling you and this time you look at her, trying to see if she actually noticed, but Wanda had her attention on the TV.

The damned thing was driving you crazy, but you couldn’t help a thought that crept into your mind. Why does it keep going on and off? Was it you? You were sitting pretty still… And then another, more shocking thought sparkled in your mind. Could Wanda? No, that was absurd. Even if she found out you took it, how would she know you still had it inside you? Would she do this on purpose?

As you turned to her, studying her expression, you couldn’t imagine Wanda doing such a thing. But you had to know for sure. So you waited for that moment when you got close, your body starting to lose some of its control and just as you were about to fall off the edge, the toy stopped, leaving you desperate and needy, extremely frustrated and utterly shocked. Did she just put her hand in her pocket? Did she have the remote there?

You had a million questions almost clouding your brain and you had no idea how to ask, no idea how to approach that subject, scared that if you were wrong, you’ll give yourself away, when Wanda suddenly turned to you.

“I see you finally figured it out.” She said in a low, raspy voice, smiling. She was almost predatory with the way she was looking at you, her soft green eyes now full of intensity. “Don’t you know that taking someone else’s things without permission is wrong?” She asked, raising a brow at you expectantly.

“I… Wanda… It’s not…” You tried to say something coherent, putting a little distance between your bodies, but you were in a state of shock and you couldn’t find the right words to explain.

“Not what it looks like?” She finished the sentence for you, scoffing. “I highly doubt that. Or are you going to deny that you snooped through my bedroom and took something that doesn’t belong to you?” She asked sternly, her eyes fixing you.

“I… ” You tried again, the words never coming out. “I didn’t mean to!” You tried, knowing it was a useless protest.

“Well, what did you mean to do, sweetness, hm? Come on, explain it for me.” She challenged again, raising a brow at you impatiently.

She gave you some time to collect whatever was left of your thoughts and she waited for you to say something coherent, but nothing actually came. There was no excuse, and you knew it well.

“Wanda… Please.” You said quietly, not even sure what you were asking of her, just knowing that you couldn’t stand the way she was looking at you, couldn’t stand how disappointed she was.

“Should I tell you what I think happened, hm?” She asked, her tone having that stern edge again. And before you could answer, she continued. “Or are you going to tell me yourself?” She asked again, holding up the remote control that was previously sitting in her pocket. “Do you need a little incentive?” She asked with a predatory grin, a slender finger hovering over the start button. “Maybe another edge or two would loosen your tongue?” She suggested, almost turning the device on.

“Oh my God, Wanda, please, no! Please! I can’t take anymore!” You begged pitifully and her heart melted a little, knowing you’ve probably never been edged. Even now you had your legs squeezed together, your eyes fixed on the remote she was holding.

To be fair, Wanda never intended to be cruel with you. She only wanted to be kind towards you, but you had pushed her buttons today and it had brought out a side of her she never wanted to show you. And you had never earned such treatment from her either, so she found it hard to contain her emotions, but she took a deep breath and tried to soften her features.

“Please, I’ll never do that again!” You pleaded.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart.” She said with surprising gentleness, stroking your cheek affectionately. “I’ll make sure of that. But you’ll have to tell me why you did it.” She explained.

“I can’t…” You tried to protest again, voice shaking. How could you explain that you’re in love with her?

“If you can do it, you should be able to talk about it.” Wanda coaxed.

“Please, let me just go upstairs and I’ll clean everything up and…”

“Oh, no, it’s too late for that now.” Wanda interrupted you, knowing where you were trying to go with that thought. “You don’t get to pretend that nothing happened.” She added with a thoughtful expression. “You see… I tried to pretend that I don’t see the way you act, or your little skimpy outfits, or the way you look at me. I tried to pretend that I don’t hear you calling my name at night, when you touch yourself… I tried to stay away and be a good stepmother, a good wife… And then you go and do something like this… Tell me, Y/N, what should I do with you now, hmm?”

Her words, the way she said them… The admission that she knew of your feelings sent you spiralling all over again and you didn’t even know where to begin. What were you meant to say? What did she intend to do? Was she going to tell your father? God, you hoped she wouldn’t. Not even because you were so afraid of him, but because you were so afraid of losing her. You never wanted to lose her.

“It would be so wrong of me to take you.” Wanda continues, talking more to herself now, her words taking a surprising turn. “So wrong… But you make it so hard for me to resist you.” She confessed. “You’ve been driving me crazy.” She said in a low voice, getting closer to where you stood, cupping your chin with her fingers, so she could make sure that you’ll look at her. “Do you know how hard it has been? Watching you offer yourself to me so shamelessly, listening to your moans at night, hearing you call my name and having to stay away from you…” Wanda’s gaze had darkened, making your pussy throb around the vibrator inside you and leaving you even more needy and helpless in her hold. God, you wanted her! “Do you know how many nights I almost didn’t? Do you know how many nights I had to cum to your filthy little sounds, imagining that it was me, making you feel that good?” She asked, searching your face.

You couldn’t believe the words that kept coming out of her mouth, couldn’t believe that she would ever want the same thing you did, that she would even give you the time of day… You wondered if she really meant it. Yet she kept speaking, her words making the ache between your legs almost unbearable and the need to grind against the vibrator nestled inside you harder and harder to resist. You were ready to combust. Fuck, you were ready to let her do absolutely anything and everything to you, just as long as she finally took you.

“Tell me something, honey…” Her words pulled you from your thoughts. “Do you want Mommy to make you feel good? Is that why you pulled this little stunt? Wanted to get my attention?” She asked, watching your eyes go wide at the mention of the title you used, the one you moaned out when you thought of her. “Oh, yes, I know what you like to call me.” She smirked. “It has a very nice ring to it, when you moan it out, touching yourself.”

You could only whine, too scared to admit how badly you needed her, how much you thought of her, how long you’ve waited for this moment, but Wanda didn’t rush. She held your gaze and she searched your eyes, filled with longing, as she let you think this through. If she was going to do this, she would do it right.

“Wanda… Please?” You uttered in almost despair, not knowing how to ask for what you wanted and not daring to hope that you would be lucky enough to get it.

“Please what, sweetheart? What do you want?” She asked softly, her thumb brushing your cheekbone as a way to soothe you. “You’ll have to use your words.” She coaxed, when she saw the way you took her hand, trying to guide it lower, to where you needed her most.

“Mommy…” You whined once more, trying to plead with her, hoping that it will affect her enough to finally make that final move.

Hearing your pleas, hearing that title pass your lips as you looked at her was easily pulling at her heart strings. It was also making her want to ruin you. She couldn’t deny that it did something to her and despite your poor behaviour today, she wanted to be good to you, wanted to care for you, to shower you with the love and affection you deserved, but she couldn’t make that move, not before you asked. She had no intention to be cruel to you, she just wanted to be sure, that you wanted to take that step with her.

“I know you’re feeling shy, dear, but this matters to me.” She said softly. “I need you to know what this means and I need to know that you want it. For that, you’ll have to use your words.” She clarified again, waiting for her words to sink in, but this time she didn’t have to wait long.

“You know I want this. For years I’ve wanted this, wanted you. And I never thought you’d ever see me, the way I see you, but Wanda, if you do… Please, don’t make me wait anymore. Please?”

As soon as she heard that, she leaned forward, capturing your chin with her fingers and looking deep in your eyes, letting the anticipation build between you, before she slowly connected your lips in a gentle kiss. It’s slow and soft, she moves tentatively, bringing her body closer, so she could let her tongue explore you as well, and she’s pleasantly surprised when your hands grip her top, pulling her on top of you.

Just this small contact had your heart fluttering with joy. You never thought this could be your reality. It felt so good to feel her weight against you. You had waited too long for this. You had spent so many endless nights thinking of just this. But Wanda was worth it. To be able to smell her, to taste her for yourself, you would do it all over again.

Her hands were just as gentle as they ran up and down your neck, or buried themselves in your hair and you couldn’t help but moan and whimper as you desperately tried to get more friction and more attention from her.

She was trying to take it slow, letting herself feel the culmination of her longing and just enjoy the way your lips felt, but it just wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel more of you, feel every part of you against her and explore every millimetre of your gorgeous body. This moment between you was long overdue and you both knew it.

Tentatively, she straddled one of your thighs, pressing her knee against your aching core, hoping to provide some much-needed relief to you both, but it only made you needier and more desperate for Wanda to finish what she started.

“Mommy, please.” You whispered softly, breaking the kiss to look up at her with longing and she instantly understood.

As much as you hoped to hold yourself together, as much as you wanted to prolong this moment, scared that if you opened your eyes, she’ll disappear, you couldn’t help the way your pussy throbbed. You had waited hours, teased and edged and filled to the brim with no relief and you couldn’t stand it a second longer. You needed to cum, or you were going to combust.

Wanda met your gaze, her head spinning from how lost she let herself get in your kisses, only to see you in a similar state. The love and adoration in your eyes, all that pent up longing and your pleas were irresistible. She had to indulge you. Then again, she also had to teach you a lesson and it felt right to use this toy. You had started all this by taking it after all.

With a devilish grin, Wanda reached into her pocket, feeling for the remote control and blindly pressing the start button. She felt the toy come to life with a sudden buzz, the vibrations dull against her knee, but from the way you gasped at the sensation, she could tell you were having a much more intense experience and she let it continue its work, while she took you in a deep kiss.

When it became too hard to keep up with her, your mind too distracted by the pleasure, she started to kiss her way down your body, kissing your neck and helping you grind against her, elated to hear the way you moaned and whimpered from every small touch. God, you were gorgeous.

“Look at you.” She admired you with a soft smile. “I’m about to make you fall apart, while fully dressed and without a single touch to your pussy.” She rasped, her hands massaging your breasts through the fabric of your dress and bra.

Her words made your cheeks burn and pulled another whine from you, yet you couldn’t deny how hot it was, or how badly you wanted it. In fact, they only made you grind against her more, trying to pull her in for another kiss, desperate to feel her against you.

She was right too. You were shaking beneath her, your movements turning more erratic, the closer to your edge you would get, and knowing that once you were there, you wouldn’t be able to stop it.

“Mommy, please I want to cum.’’ You pleaded softly. “Please, don’t stop it this time.”

“So pretty when you beg.” Wanda smirked. “You wanna cum, my darling?”

“Yes, want to cum so badly.”

“If you want to cum, you have to promise Mommy some things first.” Wanda explained, removing a strand of hair from your face. “First: You’ll never take Mommy’s toys again without permission.” She stated sternly. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mommy, I promise.” You nodded, body squirming under her intense gaze. God, you were close.

“Second: No more touching yourself. And no more cumming unless you have Mommy’s permission either.” She explained while she trailed soft kisses down your neck. “Understood?”

“Yes! Yes, I understand.” You almost screamed, your hips stuttering against her. “Fuck!”

“Good.’’ She smiled triumphantly. She could probably get you to agree to just about anything right now. “But most importantly, no one else is allowed to see you like this, to touch you like this, to feel you and fuck you and kiss you the way I can. You’re all mine, got it?” She almost growled in your ear, one of her hands tangling in your hair to make you look up at her.

“Yes! God, yes! I don’t want anyone else, Mommy, just you. Please! I just want to be yours. Please? Can I be yours? Can I please cum?” You spoke in a high-pitched tone, your desperation reaching new hights as you heard the possessiveness in her voice.

Wanda could tell you were seconds away from your orgasm and the smile that spread over her face when she reached into her pocket, stopping the vibrator, could only be described as evil. She found it amusing that you would think that she’d let you cum like this, with a toy you had taken from her, instead of getting to feel you for herself.

“Oh my God, no, no no…” You whined, tears prickling your eyes as the sting of denial hit you full force. It was horrible, being so close, yet unable to finish. If Wanda wasn’t right on top of you, you would have reached down, trying to finish it yourself. At the same time the pleasure that burned through you, unyielding and demanding was somehow sweet.

“How does that feel, my sweet girl?” Wanda asked with a calm, self-satisfied tone that had chills run down your spine. Something told you that she would love to do this to you again. “Frustrating, right?”

“Yes.” You whined, as your nails dug into her arms, as the orgasm you had built started to dull down and fade.

“That’s what it felt like, every time you teased me.” She explained with a growl. “That’s what it felt like, to find out you took something of mine without my permission.” She added, as she took down your panties, her eyes zeroing in on the pink vibrator nestled inside you. “I’ll do much worse, if you try something like that again.” She snarled, the threat clear in her voice.

“I wouldn’t Mommy, I promise.” You squirmed under her inquisitive eyes.

“Learned your lesson, huh, my darling?” She smirked, pulling out the dildo as well, discarding it on the floor carelessly, so she can admire your sweet pussy. You were so beautiful like this. Legs spread wide, slick folds on display and your desperate pussy twitching with need and excitement. You were perfect. “Then let me show you how good I can be to you.”

With a smile, she teased her fingers over your sensitive folds, playing with your clit and pulling small moans from you, before she eased her digits inside you. Your tight walls accepted her gladly, fluttering and pulsing around her happily and a string of moans filled her ears. She curled them experimentally, looking for your sweet spot and it didn’t take long to find it, your back arching off the couch in delight.

“Yeah, that’s your spot, isn’t it? Right there.” She emphasized her words, by pressing on it again.

“Yes, right there!” You sighed, back arching as the pleasure inside you started to grow again.

Wanda’s fingers were even better than the toy, stretching you deliciously, as they moved just the way you liked and you couldn’t believe that you had lived so long without getting to experience them.

Her hungry eyes were stuck on the view of her fingers moving in and out of you, your juices sticking to the palm of her hand, that she made sure to press against your clit at each stroke. It was obscene how much you reacted to her, how badly you needed her and you tried to pull her closer, so you’d hide in the crook of her neck, but she wouldn’t let you.

“No need to be embarrassed, darling. Mommy loves to see how good she makes you feel.” She husked, but gave in none the less, wanting to feel you close to her.

She peppered soft kisses on your cheeks and jaw, trailed them down your neck and against your ear as you moaned for her, clawing at her clothed back and it took everything in her not to stretch you out with a third finger. When your walls tightened around her, gripping her hard, she knew you were getting close again, your insatiable little pussy just begging her for more.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” She asked sweetly. “Are you going to make a mess all over my fingers?”

“God, yes!” You gasped, trying to pull her impossibly closer.

“Show me.” Wanda husked, claiming your lips in another kiss, nestling even closer to you, pulling your legs around her waist, so she could press against you snugly, almost folding you in half as her fingers worked your G-spot.

The position was surprisingly intimate, your body trapped under Wanda. It felt snug and safe, all your senses surrounded by her. You could smell her perfume, see the curtain of her soft, wavy hair falling around you, taste her as she kissed you, feel her deep inside you as you reached your edge with soft moans of pure pleasure.

When you finally fell over it, she helped you ride the waves of extasy, her fingers never stopping their movement. You were writhing under her, but she held you down effortlessly, until you gave her everything you had to offer and she pulled out of you with a contented grin.

“That’s my good girl.” She praised, lifting up her fingers to inspect them and slowly putting them in her mouth, so she could clean them up. “And so delicious too.” She added happily.

For a moment she contemplated letting you rest, but her own arousal was driving her crazy, the wetness in her panties a stark reminder of how badly she needed some relief. But it wasn’t just that. She hadn’t even properly undressed you yet, hadn’t had a chance to taste you from the source. She wanted to do so many things to you…

“Thank you.” You purred like a happy cat, stretching a little from underneath her.

“Such good manners.” Wanda mused. “Always such a good girl for me.” She smiled, noting the way you beamed proudly at her praise. “Think you can help Mommy undress you?” She asked, waiting for your happy nod of consent and your eager adjustment, so you can help her lift off your dress and discard it.

For a moment you felt a little insecure about yourself, despite the many times you had paraded yourself in front of Wanda, but she didn’t let you dwell on it for too long. She kissed you deeply, her lips never leaving yours, while her hands reached behind you and unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere behind her, while her hands explored you. Your skin was so soft to her touch, your body responding to every little caress and begging for more.

You were gorgeous in this state and she wanted to show you just how much she truly loved you, wanted to show you how deep her feelings really went, wanted you to know that this meant everything to her. You meant everything to her.

“Can I see you too, please?” You asked shyly, while she massaged your breasts, eyes fixed on them hungrily.

“Of course, darling.” She smiled knowingly, probably realizing how shy you must feel, being the only one naked. “Do you want to do it, or should I?”

“May I?” You practically beamed at her, sitting up in anticipation.

“Of course, sweetness.” Wanda smiled softly, stopping her movements, so she could give you some space.

Undressing Wanda was almost a spiritual experience. Each item of clothing you were able to remove revealed more of her beauty to your adoring gaze and she felt the swell of pride when she watched you take in every curve with admiration. It felt so good to be admired so openly and she allowed you to take your time, to kiss and caress her, as you shed her clothing.

When you unclasped her bra, freeing her breasts, you almost drooled at the sight of them. Perky nipples stood at attention, begging to be worshipped and you barely had time to ask if she’d let you, before you did just that. Capturing each breast in your palms, you swirled your tongue over her nipples, sucking on them gently and smiling when you pulled soft sighs of pleasure from the older woman.

As you finally reached her underwear, lacy, red panties fully capturing your attention, you couldn’t help but gasp, when you found her just as wet as you were.

“Do you like seeing that, honey? Do you like knowing you make me this wet? Do you like knowing that every night I heard you call out to me, I got just as wet, touching myself to the thought of making you mine? Does it excite you, knowing that you caused all this?”

“Yes, Mommy! I always wanted you just like that. Always wanted to know how you would feel, what you would taste like, if I could have you in my mouth.” You confessed, remembering each time you fantasized that Wanda would find you with your hand between your legs and give you exactly what you wanted.

“Well, now that you have me, have a taste.” She nodded happily, helping you take off her panties and spreading her legs, to give you a good view of her soaked folds.

Instead of answering, you just kneeled, slipping off the couch effortlessly and finding your place between her legs. With the sight of her soaked panties and the delicious smell of her reaching your nostrils, you could already feel your mouth water. There was something so erotic about having her above you like this.

Wanda looked as regal as a queen as she let you take her in in all her glory. Darkened, green eyes never looked away from you, as she left everything on display. And by all the gods, she was magnificent. Everything about her was pure perfection and you were happy to stay right there, on your knees, forever, worshipping and admiring her, if it wasn’t for the hand, that soon tangled itself in your hair, pulling you closer to her.

She leaned in, kissing you fully and only pulled away, when you both needed to breathe.

“Don’t make me wait too long.” She said as she leaned back against the couch, the hand in your hair pulling you forward and closer to where she wanted you.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” You smiled, moving forward on your own and taking a small experimental lick.

Her reaction was instantaneous, her fingers tightening their grip and pulling you all the way, until your mouth was flush against her. She sighed with satisfaction, her legs spreading wider, to give you more room to explore her and by God, she tasted so good. You wanted to devour her whole.

“Yeah, that’s better!” She sighed, her hips canting up against your mouth, as your tongue swirled over her clit. “Just like that, baby.”

Her praise was almost hypnotic, sparking something inside you, an urge to be better than all her other lovers, to show her that you’re worth all this, that you would earn the privilege to be hers. To show her that you would learn what made her feel good, what made her moan out in pleasure, what had her screaming and bucking her hips into your mouth. You’d learn it all and you’ll give it to her, just so she would call you her good girl again.

“Fuck, yes!” She cursed under her breath. “So fucking good with your mouth.”

Her hand in your hair kept you firmly against her, nails scratching at your scalp as Wanda guided you through what she wanted. And she wasn’t shy about it either. The closer she got, the more she used you for her pleasure, her legs planted on your shoulders as she rode you even more.

“Fingers, honey. Put your fingers inside me.” She spoke breathlessly, almost suffocating you with how much she pushed you into her pussy, when she felt you enter her. “Yes, just like that!” She praised. “Such a good girl. Gonna make Mommy cum so hard.”

The prospect of making her cum had your excitement reach new levels and you doubled your efforts, swirling your tongue around her clit in circles that seemed to drive her crazy. You could feel her walls pulse around your fingers, squeezing you and pulling you in, as far as you could go and you knew she wouldn’t last much longer.

Wanda reached her edge with a high-pitched moan, her thighs squeezing around your head and the hand in your hair tightening its hold on you almost painfully, just as she started to fall apart. The orgasm that built in the pit of her stomach spread like a tidal wave, coursing through her entire body as she shook against you.

She could feel your free hand gripping her thigh, trying to keep her steady as you helped her ride it all out. When she did, body slumping on the couch with a happy sigh, she hurried to pull you up and into her embrace. Getting to cum with your mouth and fingers felt so much better than the empty nights she spent with her toys and she knew she wouldn’t be able to give you up, even for a second.

When she was able to recover, she got up, helping you to your feet with a gentle hand.

“Let me take you upstairs, sweetheart.” She suggested. “I believe you had an interest in my collection?”

Her words were full of innuendo and you practically leaped, following her up the stairs and only stopping in front of her bedroom.

“Wanda?” You looked up at her, a little insecure.

“Yes, darling.” She paused, at hearing her name pass your lips, instead of the title you chose to give her.

“Is this…” You tried to ask, but couldn’t find the right words, biting your lips in anticipation. “Does it mean…”

“You mean everything to me, Y/N.” She said reassuringly, clearly understanding what you wanted to ask.

She had spent her whole life looking for love like yours. For someone, who would worship her the way you did. And now that she had it, she couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. Couldn’t imagine ever sharing you with another soul, or letting anyone ever touch you the way she did. As soon as she kissed you, she knew that she will commit to you for good.

“Do you mean it?” You looked at her with hopeful eyes. “Because I…”

“So do I, my darling.” She smiled softly at you, knowing that neither one of you was ready to admit it just yet.

The two of you stood there, in front of her door, for a few moments longer, just smiling at each-other, letting your eyes say the things you couldn’t form into words, before you couldn’t stand the tension any longer.

“May I kiss you again?” You asked a little shyly, fighting the urge to hide into her again.

Wanda’s smile only widened. She opened her door, the soft light from within illuminating the perfectly pristine space, as she pulled you closer to her.

“Come inside, sweetheart and you can do so much more than just kiss.”

______________________________________________________

I just might have to make a part 2 to this fic, because there is just so much left unsaid here... But at least I get to share the beginning with you guys! Let me know what you think!

If you liked this story and you want more, please visit the Masterlist with all my works. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: Image not mine. I'd happily give credit to the owner if I knew who they were :)

[may-cii]

Cold nights

Cold nights vanish in the heat of Geralt's passionate hold.

Geralt of rivia x (sorceress) female reader

Genre: SMUT / fluff (minors DNI)

Wc: 1,320

A/N: hi guys I’m gonna make the smut longer next time negl it’s pretty short so this is mostly fluff but there is smut and thank you guys for the support on my last post!

—

Traveling with Geralt is a engery drainer. While he’s drawn to the chaos of monster hunts, you prefer the quiet precision of sorcery and trade. Yet, despite your differences, you find yourself pulled into his world time and time again. You tell yourself it’s out of necessity—someone has to patch him up after a fight—but deep down, you know it’s more than that. There’s something magnetic about the way he moves, his body coiled with tension, his every action deliberate. When he’s injured, it’s you who tends to him, your hands steady as you stitch his wounds. And yes, you’ve noticed the way his muscles ripple beneath his skin when he removes his shirt, though you’d never admit it. You’ve convinced yourself that Geralt doesn’t see you that way, that your bond is purely platonic. But sometimes, when his gaze lingers a moment too long, you wonder.

What you don’t realize is that Geralt admires you just as deeply. He values your presence on these journeys, your quiet strength and unwavering focus. To him, you’re a constant in a world that’s anything but. He’s drawn to the way you move, the way you think, the way you seem to understand him without needing words. But he’s hesitant to act on it, afraid that crossing that line might ruin what you already share. He’s not one for grand declarations, and the thought of losing you is more terrifying than any monster he’s faced.

“Geralt,” you call out, noticing he’s fallen a few steps behind. He catches up, his expression unreadable as always. “Let’s stop at this tavern. I could use a drink.” You reach for his hand, your fingers brushing against his calloused palm, and pull him along with a lightness that makes him smile despite himself.

The tavern is alive with the hum of drunken laughter and clinking mugs. Geralt steers you toward a corner table, away from the rowdier patrons. After a couple of drinks, he gently takes the cup from your hand. “That’s enough,” he says, his voice firm but soft. His eyes flicker to your face, then briefly lower before he looks away, hoping you didn’t catch the way his gaze lingered.

“And why’s that?” you protest, your words slightly slurred, a playful pout on your lips.

“Because you’re drunk,” he replies, his tone leaving no room for argument. He stands, tossing a few coins on the table before offering you his hand. “Let’s get you to bed, darling.” His arm slips around your waist, steadying you as you walk. Normally, you’d brush off such closeness, but tonight, your mind is too hazy to resist. You lean into him, savoring the warmth of his body against yours. When he removes his hand, you feel the absence acutely, a chill settling in its place.

“Here?” Geralt asks, gesturing to a clearing. You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as the cold bites at your skin. “Help me set up. It’ll warm you up,” he suggests, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as he guides you forward.

Once the tent is pitched, you shed your outer layers, leaving you in a simple nightgown. You grab your hairbrush, running it through your hair with slow, deliberate strokes. Geralt watches you from the corner of his eye, his admiration barely concealed. “I’ll be back soon,” he says softly before slipping out of the tent.

When he returns, you’re already in bed, the light dimmed. “What did you get?” you mumble, resting your head on the pillow.

“Some berries,” he replies, placing them on the table. He walks over to you and sits on the edge of the bed. “And this,” he adds, holding out a delicate white flower. “For the prettiest girl in the kingdom.”

You smile, taking the flower and inhaling its sweet scent. “Thank you,” you say, your voice warm. Everything he does makes you fall for him even more. If only he knew.

“You like it?” he asks, leaning back against the bed frame.

You nod and lean forward to hug him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before settling back into your spot. Geralt turns off the light as he lies down beside you. You both pull the covers over yourselves and drift off to sleep.

You wake in the middle of the night, shivering. “You cold, darling?” Geralt’s voice is low and gravelly with sleep.

“Yeah,” you whisper, trembling.

Geralt pulls you close, your back pressing against his chest. He wraps an arm around your waist, and you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, letting out a contented sigh. “Did I wake you?” you ask softly.

“No, you didn’t. I haven’t been sleeping well,” he admits, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before resting his hand on your waist.

“Geralt?” you murmur.

“Yeah?” he breathes out.

“Do—do you love me?” you hesitate, curiosity getting the better of you.

Geralt lets out a low chuckle. “Yes, I do,” he pauses for a moment. “Do you love me, Y/N?”

You turn to face him, your breath mingling in the cool air. “I do love you. So much,” you smile before your lips meet his. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent. The cool breeze drifts through the tent, making you shiver.

“I’m cold, Geralt,” you murmur against his lips.

He pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together. You can feel his hard length pressing against your core. You kiss him again, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hand slides down to grip your ass. You moan softly, grinding your hips against his. Geralt groans, his hand moving to your throat as the other slips between your thighs.

He tugs your panties aside and slides a finger into you. You gasp, your body tensing as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “Geralt,” you whimper, and his cock throbs at the sound of your voice. He quickens his pace, adding a second finger and circling your clit with his thumb. The sensation is overwhelming, and you know he’s going to make you come undone.

Geralt kisses you gently before pulling his hand away. You let out a needy whine, and he chuckles, lifting your leg higher over his hip. Your hands fumble with his belt, freeing his aching cock. It’s thick and heavy, veins prominent and glistening with precum. You moan at the sight before he guides himself into you. Your walls clench around him, taking in his girth.

“Fuck,” he growls as you tighten around him, his hips beginning to move. He starts slow, the deliberate pace making your stomach flutter with anticipation. But soon, his thrusts become more urgent, more demanding. You moan and whimper, your lips seeking his in sloppy, desperate kisses. Geralt’s groans grow deeper, his thrusts harder, each one hitting that sweet spot inside you.

“Need to cum,” you whine, your voice trembling with need.

“Go on, darling,” he grunts, his own release close. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the tent, mingling with your moans. The air is thick with the scent of sex. Geralt hits that spot again, and you cry out, your orgasm crashing over you. You cling to him, riding the wave of pleasure as Geralt follows, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you. You come again, your walls clenching around him as you both moan, bodies pressed together in the throes of ecstasy.

Your movements slow, becoming lazy and unhurried until they still completely. Geralt presses a tender kiss to your lips and brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Are you still cold?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You giggle softly. “No, I’m not.” He smiles and nods, wrapping his strong arms around you as you drift off to sleep.

[florencebirdsong]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Marvel Kinktober 2024

Summary: Wanda wants to see just how good you can be.

Tags: breathplay, mommy wanda, sub reader, praise kink, obedience, implied subspace, soft wanda, oral (r receiving), fingers (r receiving), bondage without bondage

Words: 953 | AO3 | Masterlist

Authors note: this is a kink that isn’t written about as often so I super hope you enjoy!!

“Still,” Wanda murmurs against your skin and you obey instantly. She hums happily as she continues her gentle exploration, hands smoothing down skin while her lips gently caress the curve of your stomach. It’s a struggle not to move, to press insistently into her teasing hands, but you don’t twitch. Not even when she finally, finally, makes it down to where you want her the most.

The bold swipe her tongue makes surprises you but her nose nudging your clit is what truly does you in. Your hips twitch upwards and a small moan escapes your lips.

Wanda doesn’t reprimand you like you’re expecting. Her hands merely press your hips down as she dives in for more.

“So wet,” she murmurs. You want to point out that she’s been teasing you for forever but her command from earlier still holds so you settle for a whine. Her grin brushes your inner thigh, “Hold your breath while mommy cleans you up, baby.”

She waits patiently for you to take two deep, lung filling breaths and for you to hold the third before she puts her tongue back on you.

Torturous kitten licks swipe up your slit, teasingly dipping deeper but never up towards your clit. You get to breathe when the mess is gone but she’s just making more.

One heartbeat after that thought and she clearly commands, “Breathe.”

You let your breath out in a controlled rush and curl your fingers into the mattress. That hadn’t been long enough for the euphoria to go to your head, it only adds to the ache that her teasing has created.

“Good girl,” her thumb rubs gentle circles into your hip. You continue to take deep breaths. Evening out your breathing is important and you know Wanda won’t go again so early until you do so.

Wanda’s hands travel to your thighs as you do so and she parts them further. Her gaze hot enough that it’s almost a caress.

“Such a messy baby,” she flashes you grin, “I could spend all night cleaning you up.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow when you try to protest and your slam your mouth shut. You shake your head rapidly and give her your best pleading eyes. Her grin grows as she returns her eyes to your dripping pussy.

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Her tongue starts just below your end trance and firmly travels all the way up over your clit, “Although, isn’t there a saying about needing to make a bigger mess to clean up a smaller one?” Wanda pauses like she expects an answer so you give her a desperate whine and buck your hips. “Don’t be naughty,” she tsks and you immediately lower your hips, “Mommy knows what you want.”

Wanda pushing your thighs apart is the only warning you get before she says, “In,” and pushes her tongue deep inside of you. You’d moan if you weren’t holding your breath.

The relief of having her finally inside of you is immeasurable and your muscles tense as you try to stay still. Wanda doesn’t let up, devouring you now that she has given herself permission to do so. It’s not until your lungs gives you a second insistent demand that she pulls back and tells you to breathe. Her fingers replace her tongue, teasing your entrance for a moment before starting long, deep strokes.

The release of air is much less controlled this time but you’re not at gasping stage quite yet. Wanda’s free hand taps your thigh twice and you tap the mattress twice back in confirmation. She’s biting her lip, her gaze focused entirely on her fingers. You’re squirming now but Wanda seems too entranced to care. Biting your hand doesn’t quiet the moans as much as you’d like but you don’t want Wanda to stop. Her thumb finds your clit and any subtlety is over. A loud moan rips from your lips and your hips’ search for more pressure is humiliatingly obvious. Wanda chuckles quietly and brings her mouth back to your clit.

“Mommy’s going to make you cum now. But only if you hold your breath like a good girl. You get one extra for behaving so well,” Wanda’s eyes never leave your clit. She doesn’t wait this time and you barely get a lung full of air in before she’s leaning down and sucking hard.

You throw your head back and cling to the sheets. Her fingers speed up and her tongue presses firmly against your clit and you’re starting to get lightheaded. Pleasure flood through you and builds fast, sending a flash up your spine with every swipe of Wanda’s tongue and press of her fingers.

You aren’t going to make it but Wanda gives that glorious permission, “One,” and you suck in a breath as fast as you can. It makes your head even lighter and sends a tingle straight to your clit. Three heartbeats later and you’re cumming over Wanda’s fingers. The feeling sharpening thanks to your lack of air.

Wanda begins cooing the second she feels you cum, “There we go, such a good girl for me. You did so well, my perfect girl. So good,” and on as you catch your breath. Her hands run firmly up and down your thighs to keep you grounded.

She crawls up your body to cover your face in soft kisses and whisper warm praises. The afterglow fills you and you reach up to pull her against you. Wanda goes happily, her weight reassuring as your head grows foggier. Your eyes slip shut as she runs her lips across your cheek and you bask in her attention as she slowly reassures you and brings you back to earth.

[megalomaniacz]

CAITLYN “KILLSHOT” KIRAMMAN 🏀 PT2

basketball caitlyn x cheerleader reader

pt 1

smut, top!cait x bottom!reader

“be my date to this party my friend is throwing?”

you couldn’t say no, not that you wanted to, but you really did owe her. plus, you had nothing to do this weekend but homework and sulking rewatching the same episodes of the same show while stuffing your face with popcorn, so you said yes.

she told you she’d pick you up at 9 and you were ready by 4:30. the anxiety of the night twisting your stomach into pretzel-like knots. you take a small breath as you leave your dorm and walk out to the front. it was 8:59 but it seemed like she’d been sitting there a while. you hurry to the car and get in her passenger’s seat, hands placed neatly in your lap.

“you excited?” she asks. eyes focused on the road ahead. you let out a small “yes” before she turns her music up and you both sit in silence on the way.

you show up to a house you’d never been to before. there were a couple parties you attended, but never one quite like this. the house was huge, it had the kind of staircase that was shaped like a spiral. there were free drinks everywhere, and the music was blowing from a huge set of speakers. you saw a group of people in the corner smoking weed, and even recognized your cheermates mingling in the kitchen.

caitlyn grabbed your hand and led you upstairs where it was a bit quieter. she opened the door to a room all the way down the hallway where two other people sat sharing a bottle. “hello everyone, let me introduce you to my new friend.”

“the cheer girl. i recognize you.” one of them says and it makes you wish you could melt into the floor. “be nice, vi, it wasn’t her fault.” caitlyn sits next to her, pawing for a drink. “whatever you say, cupcake.” vi responds, giving her the bottle. caitlyn then passes it to you, and you take a large drink, knowing this night will be long.

the night went on smoothly after a couple drinks. you’d left the room to go to the bathroom when you found yourself back downstairs dancing against another basketball player to an rnb song. you closed your eyes, feeling the music.

after thirty seconds you could feel someone pull you aside. the figure drags you to the bathroom before your vision clears and you realize it’s caitlyn. “what’s the matter kiramman?” you furrow your brows.

she seems angry, the type of angry people try their best to hide. you could see her face turning red and her knuckles turning white. she nearly talks between gritted teeth.

“why the fuck were you dancing with that witch?”

you take a very loud gulp. turning yourself around to face the mirror. her hands are at both of your sides so you can’t slip away, and you can feel the anxiety start to sober you up. “who was i dancing with? is there a problem with dancing?”

you can feel her growing angrier with you, her dress just above her knees. her heels making her tower over you. she turns you around and places a firm hand under your chin. “there’s a problem when you’re dancing with maddie and you came here as my date.”

suddenly you feel flush. your body growing weak under her gaze. that was caitlyn’s ex. how could you have not known? how embarrassing. you open your mouth to apologize, but instead, feel a push on your stomach. caitlyn steps back as you run over to the toilet and hack up a mixture of whatever you’d been snacking on to calm your nerves earlier today. she put a hand on the back of your head and began to shush you.

“i think it’s time for us to go.”

you couldn’t believe you were apologizing once again to caitlyn. how many mistakes were you gonna make to piss her off? she hushed you as she ushered you out of the house, sitting you in the passengers seat. five minutes into the ride you were fully sober, and realized you were not headed back to your dorm.

caitlyn pulled into the parking lot of her apartment, then opened the door to help you out of the car. you both silently walk up the stairs hand in hand until you reach her door. she unlocks it and you both walk in. all the lights are off except for a dim lamp in the living room and some leds in the hallway.

she slumps on the couch and you sit next to her. another apology falling from your lips.

“i’m so-“

“sorry? you’ve been incredibly sorry the last few days, but things don’t seem to change, huh? you keep embarrassing me.” caitlyn interrupts.

you feel your heart sink and your eyes begin to water. it was true, you just kept making mistakes. you were sure you’d be the topic of discussion tomorrow. caitlyn’s date dancing with her ex? how much messier can things get?

“i promise i’ll make it up to you.” you start as you notice her beginning to take her jewelry off. she unbuckles her belt and slips off her short black denim jacket. “oh yeah?” she asks, stretching her neck. you get closer to her, hands reaching out towards her face. “i’ll give you a massage. i’ll do your taxes. please…i’m so sorry.”

she leans in closer to you, a smirk on her face as she grabs yours and pulls you in for a kiss. you feel your heart beating faster, hands growing sweaty, as if the wind had been knocked out of you. her lips were so soft you melted into them. tasting hints of mint on her tongue.

when you pull away you catch a glint in her eyes. the way she’s looking at you now is far different than earlier. she bites her lip, pulling her hair out of her face. “you really wanna make it up to me?”

you nod your head, and she’s on top of you, straddling your waist as she kisses down your jaw to your neck leaving marks on your chest. you close your eyes, melting into her touch. the pleasure causing you to push your legs together. shallow breaths come out as she notices and begins to spread them apart with her knees.

“fuck.” you whine, feeling exposed. you were wearing an oversized shirt as a dress with nothing but tights underneath. she grabs at them, ripping a hole around your heat. when you open your mouth in defense of your tights, she shushes you. “i’ll buy you more.”

she then tugs your underwear to the side and latches her tongue onto your heat. mouth pushed into you as if you were running away. which you were, squirming under her stomach twisting pleasure. you could feel it in your thighs and your arms. the way her tongue twisted against you. her mouth sucking up your slick.

and as if that wasn’t enough, she inserted her middle finger, pulsing at your g spot. it causes you to cry out her name. “ca- caitlyn.” you whimper. she pulls away for a second to look up at you. beautiful blue eyes piercing through yours. as you open your mouth to say something else, she inserts another finger, cutting you off.

your back arches as you try to take it like a good girl. hands digging into her couch while you buck up into her mouth. her grip on you is tighter now. one hand fucking into you while the other wraps itself around your thigh pulling you in. you can’t help but cry out to her. feeling your climax approaching.

“fuck m’gonna.” you breath out. your hands tangle themselves in her hair, legs shaking as she has you seeing fucking stars.

you can feel the orgasm bubbling up when suddenly she pulls away from you, spitting on your cunt and sucking it back up before wiping her lips off with the back of her hand. she takes her fingers out, cleaning them with her tongue, and looks up at your poor pathetic face.

“now we’re even.”

[caffienemocha]

Ace from One Piece please

(oh boy oh boy I'm getting out of my hiatus for this one. BTW THIS IS A SHORT FAN FIC because I've been in a tight schedule and this was just a short ramble :0)

<WARNING: NSFW AHEAD so minors DNI >> any readers that doesn't identify as a male DNI!! >>

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ PORTGAS D. ACE X MALE READER ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

˗ˏˋ 'lemme make it up to you ˎˊ˗

You asked yourself, how did you end up being the boyfriend of the infamous Portgas D. Ace? Although he seems like a cocky, cool, and composed fellow, he's actually pretty clumsy and a dumbass most of the time. You take care of his mess, cook food for him three times a day (not including his midnight snacks), the usual house husband type of stuff. Although he sails around the sea, embarking with the Whitebeard Pirates gathering treasures and casually causing chaos and annoyance to wandering Marine in the area, Ace still holds a fair share of help in the house that rested near the dock the two you live in by giving you an allowance to buy groceries and things you want and need. Ace isn't the perfect boyfriend and he knows it. The countless nights you've slept alone without Ace by your side from his sailings, and even when he returns, he'll either leave in a short while, a few days or even a day after. He tries to make it up to you, by trying to cheer you up with gifts, affection, or straight up session after session of love-making. That doesn't fill the emptiness in your heart though, you wanted Ace to stay for a bit longer, you wanted him to at least stay for a few weeks. You wanted him to take you on dates like the first weeks of you two being boyfriends, you wanted him to treat you like a prince and pamper you as much as he did those years ago. But it was a duty of a pirate to sail the blue oceans, cross the seas, hunt for treasures, and wipe those oppose them, only to come back for a short while before leaving again. Again, you asked yourself, how'd you ended up for someone who isn't there for you most of the time?

..."I'm home." The door creaked open as the salty breeze of the sea nearby went inside the house as Ace took off his shoes and placed it right by the door before closing it and locking it. Holding a small box of treasure full of gold, jewels, and other gems, Ace took off his hat as he went inside the cozy abode, placing the box on the center table. "Welcome back, Ace." You greeted your taller boyfriend with a warm smile as you came out the kitchen, the aroma coming from the room behind you smelled magically and comforting for Ace, he hadn't eaten for a while. "There's my baby. C'mere." He softly chuckled as you took steps forward to his muscular figure who had his arms open wide, wanting to hug you after a few weeks apart. With a sigh of amusement, you hugged him back as your rugged clothes rubbed against his exposed torso. "I missed you so bad, why do you have to be gone for so long..." You said in a whiny tone, as if begging him to stay more longer than usual. Ace's instinct immediately had his arms wrapped around your smaller frame, his muscled arms comforting you. "I know, babe, I know...we already had this conversation before. The seas are big." Ace sighed as if wanting to stay like this forever but his stomach gurgled in response, betraying his thoughts as he let out a nervous laugh, "Quite hungry." "Obviously, you knucklehead." You replied sarcastically. "What're you cooking? Smells delicious." Ace asked with the familiar smile you've been wanting to see after the past few days. "You'll see, c'mon." As you grabbed his arm, you immediately lead him to the kitchen with a pot placed atop a stove, releasing steams of flavorful aroma that lingered around the room. "How about you take a seat while I prepare your food?" Ace only nodded at your words before going out of the kitchen, sitting in the living room as he whistled. Grabbing the pot cover, you grabbed a bowl as you used your ladle to scoop up the delicious stew you've cooked and tenderized ever since this morning. Serving it atop of freshly, cooked rice, you stepped out of the kitchen holding a bowl and a spoon for Ace to use to chow down. Placing it in front of him, the aroma hit Ace's nose as the delicious bowl of protein and rice laid before him. "Looks delicious, babe. Thanks." He said before grabbing it and chowing it all down spoon after spoon.

"So, what have you been up to while I was gone?" Ace asked in between bites and chewing. The question caught you off-guard, why so sudden? Yet you answered. "The usual. Clean the house, walk around the dock, watch the sea, buy groceries..." Your voice faded with a mutter as you scratched the back of your head. Ace knew something was wrong, something that signaled him that you truly need him. That he'll stay longer than what he usually does so. Ace didn't replied back until he was finished with his bowl of food, drinking water to wash it all down. Without warning, Ace then pinned you to the chair you're sitting on, his eyes nonchalant yet a glimmer of care and worry shining on his pupils. "Tell me what's wrong. You've missed me so much than usual, huh? Is that right?" He interrogated you as he continued pressing your wrist down the rails of the chair, his face mere inches away from yours. You let out a blush of flustered feelings and a scoff. "You're always gone, of course I've missed you..." You replied in a muttered voice, Ace let out a smirk as he got closer to your face, his freckles adoring his already handsome complexion. "'Lemme make it up to you then, babe." Without warning, he carried you on his shoulders as he went to the bedroom, locking it just after he, and along you on his shoulders, came in and throwing you to bed. "I always remembered you like it rough, you little masochist."

Out of his back revealed a rope, placing it roughly beside your body as the taller male ripped you out of your clothes, placing the torn linen to the floor. Your cute little body obviously turned him on, seeing how his noticeable, massive bulge on his crotch. "I'm gonna make it up to you- I'll go rougher than usual ... so better say yes or no before I ravage your entire body and leave it sore."

[🔥] like for part 2

[47lake]

asleep

synopsis: billie has an eventful dream about you, becoming so eager for you that she can't wait please you, even when you're asleep.

‼️: sub!top!billie (hardly tho), somnophilia, oral, “mommy”, finger sucking, hair grabbing/pulling idk, not that much tbh mostly just the somno thing w/c: 711

note: CONSENT FOR THIS WAS OBVIOUSLY ESTABLISHED DONT THINK BILLIE JUST UP AND DECIDED TO DO THIS THEY TALKED ABOUT IT YALL ANYWAYS JUST READ IT

you both laid in bed fast asleep, clinging to each others skin even in your shared dream-like state. billie had always been the early riser, she began to stir, eventually waking up.

groggily, she rubbed her eyes and raked her fingers through her hair to get it out of her face. she turned to you, met with the sight of you sleeping so soundly, she leaned down to kiss your cheek.

she planted her kiss ever so gently, as not to wake you. once she pulled away she saw your soft smile, so sweet even like this. she ran her hand across your thigh, admiring the sweet sight in front of her.

your bodies were tangled together, the two of you unable to sleep unless you were as close as possible. billie was currently recollecting her dream, it was having quite the effect on her, she began to squirm as she remembered the explicit details.

she ran her hands over your body, so careful as to not interrupt your peaceful slumber. she couldn't keep her hands off of you after dreaming of touching you in all the right places.

untangling herself from your grasp, she pulled the sheets away from the both of you. she rolled you over onto your back, spreading your legs open and pulling down your boxers. she'd wanted to do this for so long, today she just couldn't wait anymore.

her arms found home wrapped around your thighs, kissing along each of them with such care. you sighed softly, she was surprised you hadn't woken up yet.

she watched as you only got wetter with each kiss against your skin, she was practically drooling at the sight.

she gingerly ran her tongue through your slick, a breathy and sleepy moan seeping from your lips. she darted her tongue inside you, so eager for more.

you gasped and sat up suddenly, her tongue still worked perfectly, your leaking center tightened around her.

"bill- fuck! what are you-?"

your moans cutting off your words, she always knew just how to please you. you grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her away from your heat to answer your question.

"i'm sorry, mommy, i just couldn't wait for you to wake up."

her plump lips and chin shiny with your arousal coating them. she never looked more perfect, her sweet pleading eyes and pouty lips made you give in with such ease.

you let your grip on her hair go, granting her permission to continue. she worked furiously, always trying to get your next moan louder than the last.

your sleepy haze only intensified the satisfaction she was giving you, always so eager for your approval.

"does it feel good? do you like it?"

she mumbled against your flesh, obviously in need of your praise. you smiled and picked your head back up, previously it lolled back, waves of pleasure too intense to stay up.

"you're so fucking good, my love."

you felt her smile into you, her gained confidence only making her more determined. your jaw hung down, breath hitched in your throat as you felt her two fingers sliding inside of you, her lips now focusing on your sensitive clit.

your grip on her hair resumed, thighs closing around her head, your release building quickly. her tongue swirled in perfect circles around your pulsing bud, sharp blue eyes meeting your own, she couldn't help but watch you like this.

simultaneously, her fingers curled up into you as her lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking intensely, sending shocks coursing through your nerves. your eyes squeezed shut as your breath caught in your throat, your wave of release threatening to spill over.

she hummed happily, clit still tucked between her lips as you began to shake, the pleasure now all too much to contain. waves crashing over you as you unwound against her. her pace slowing as she made sure to ease you fully through your orgasm.

her fingers slid out of you, her tongue making quick work of collecting your warm bliss. she brought herself up from between your legs, guiding her fingers to her parted lips. she slipped them into her mouth, moaning at the taste.

“so sweet, even when you’re asleep.”

hope you guys like thisss🧟‍♀️

i have so many more subillie fics otw prepare to be sick of me! 😇

send any requests to my inbox ! 📥

💋: @vharperr @brat-at-the-disco-deactivated20 @thechipbetweenyourcarseat @dollyvuu @greenbttrflyy @eilishslut @karaeilishh @moralesluvr @anna-geeeezzzz @certifiedwomenlover @asterisk-eyes @mseilishmwah @eeuni @ohdoyoustillcry @bilsdillldough @amara-eilish @chrissv4mp @vijaxx @drunkinyourbenz @adinda-eilish

masterlist

taglist

[marvelobsessed134]

I notice on Wattpad us bottoms get so left out when it comes to reader insert fics 😭

Like tell me why the only options are freaking g!p reader and top!reader likeeeee that’s not me bro

[solar-wing]

⚣ Shadowing Nightwing: Sneak Peek 🌗

⚣🌗 A/N → y'all...find me a church—QUICKLY! also, how a sneak peek is the length of most other people's regular fics is beyond me. I've truly lost the plot. this part was originally like 7k words, and now I'm close to hitting 40k again...god help me. WARNINGS: Omegaverse Dynamics | Yandere/Obsessive Behavior |Non-Consensual/Dubious Consent | Sexual Coercion/Manipulation | Physical Aggression | Emotional Manipulation/Abuse | Objectification/Dehumanization | Breeding Kink | M-Preg | Rough Handling/Manhandling | Degrading Language | Explicit/Smut |

⚣🌗 Summary → Dick's not happy after he and Y/N's first night out as Nightwing and Shadow. And for once, Y/N's not even mad at the Alpha's invasive hands and crude language—cause everything is going according to plan.

⚣🌗 Words → 3.4K

⚣ ENJOY 🌗

As they made their way back to the Batmobile, Dick’s possessiveness was palpable. His arm was a heavy, unyielding weight around Y/N’s shoulders, not just guiding but commanding the Omega’s every step. Each stride radiated a sense of dominance that was laced with desperation—a bitter mixture of relief that Y/N had made it through the night safely and simmering frustration over yet another failed attempt to secure a lasting bond. The earlier taunts from the thugs still lingered in the back of his mind, each crude comment stoking a fire of inadequacy he couldn't extinguish.

When they reached the car, Dick yanked the door open with more force than necessary, his gaze never leaving Y/N. “In,” he commanded, voice low and strained. The word carried the weight of the night’s tension and the unfulfilled bond. It wasn’t merely about getting inside—it was about re-establishing dominance, a dominance that had slipped further out of his grasp tonight.

Once Y/N was inside, Dick followed quickly on the other, his body angrily sliding into the driver's seat. Before Y/N could even fasten his seatbelt, Dick’s hands were on him, tugging him forcefully onto his lap. Y/N landed with a startled gasp, the familiar hard planes of Dick’s chest pressing against his back as the Alpha's arms coiled around his waist. “What are you doing?” Y/N managed, his voice tinged with feigned irritation.

“You know damn well what I’m doing,” Dick growled, his voice a guttural rumble against Y/N’s ear. His scent was overwhelming—an intoxicating blend of aroused Alpha musk mixed with possessive desperation. “I don’t care what front you put on tonight; you’re still mine, and you need to be reminded.”

Y/N tried to resist the instinctual submission that the Alpha’s touch elicited, but Dick’s hand was already sliding up to his throat, fingers wrapping firmly around the column of his neck. It wasn’t a choke, but it was possessive enough to draw a shudder from Y/N. “You let them touch you,” Dick hissed, voice rough with frustrated desire. "You let them look at you like that.” His fingers moved lower, sliding down Y/N’s thigh and pressing into the soft flesh, his grip both a punishment and a twisted reassurance. “No one else should be able to leave marks on you.”

The touch was rough and deliberate, meant to stake a claim that had failed to fully take root before. Y/N’s instincts screamed submission, and his body betrayed him with a shiver, a small but undeniable response that only seemed to spur Dick’s possessiveness further. Dick’s lips brushed the shell of Y/N’s ear, his breath hot and heavy. “I should’ve fucked you right there in front of everyone. Made sure they knew exactly who you belong to.”

The words were both an expression of dominance and a confession of insecurity. Beneath the aggression, there was a raw need for reassurance that only intensified the twisted nature of their relationship. Y/N’s mind recoiled from the crude promise, but his body reacted instinctively, his hips twitching against Dick’s lap in an unconscious display of submission.

“Drive,” Dick barked at the autopilot, his voice rough with unfulfilled need. The Batmobile roared to life, speeding through the dark streets of Gotham as Dick’s hands resumed their possessive exploration. The ride back to the manor was suffocatingly silent, save for the heavy breaths that filled the cabin. Dick’s touch was frantic, driven by a desperation that bordered on madness. His grip tightened with every bump and turn, fingers digging into Y/N’s skin as if trying to force the claim deeper.

“You’re too calm,” Dick growled suddenly, his voice rough and raw, as if the words were being dragged out of him against his will. His hands tightened on Y/N’s hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh with a bruising force. “You shouldn’t be so calm after what just happened.”

Y/N tried to maintain his composure, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “What do you expect me to do, Dick?” he asked, his tone low but edged with defiance. “Break down? Beg for your forgiveness?”

Dick’s jaw clenched, a muscle in his neck twitching with barely restrained anger. “No,” he snapped, his voice thick with a mix of possessiveness and desperation. “I want you to react—to feel something other than lust when I touch you.”

And that’s when Y/N saw it, the insecurity that had been eating away at Dick’s confidence for months, perhaps even years. It was the kind of vulnerability that would have made Y/N pity him in another life, but here, in the suffocating grip of Dick’s obsession, it was just another tool of manipulation—a reminder of how twisted their dynamic had become.

The vulnerability stung Y/N with a twisted kind of satisfaction. “You know, if you'd just gotten pregnant like you were supposed to, we’d be celebrating our baby’s birth right now,” Dick continued bitterly, his words both an accusation and a confession of failure. “But you… you keep fighting it. You keep making this harder than it has to be.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at the cruel irony. It wasn’t that his body couldn’t accept Dick’s bond; it was that it wouldn’t. Every fiber of his being rejected the Alpha’s claim, repulsed by the suffocating nature of Dick’s obsession. And yet, here he was, being blamed for something that was beyond his control.

“Maybe if you were more cooperative, we’d already have a child by now,” Dick pressed, his voice laced with condescending anger. “But no… you keep resisting.”

“Or maybe,” Y/N retorted quietly, “it’s because you’re trying to force it. My body knows better than to accept a bond that isn’t real.”

Dick’s reaction was immediate. He yanked Y/N closer, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of the Omega’s inner thighs, right where the sexual glands lay. “Is that so?” he growled. “Then why does your body react to me like this?”

The vulnerability in his voice was unnerving, a stark contrast to the dominant persona he usually projected. Y/N could sense the desperation bleeding through the cracks, the fear that perhaps he really wasn’t enough—wasn’t strong enough, Alpha enough, to claim the one thing he wanted most. The failed attempts to impregnate Y/N weren’t just a personal failure; they were a direct blow to Dick’s sense of identity as an Alpha, a constant reminder of his inadequacy.

“Do you even realize what it’s like?” Dick muttered, his voice rough with suppressed emotion as he pressed his forehead against the back of Y/N’s neck. “To know that any Alpha—especially Leo—could probably do what I can’t? They could knock you up, make you smell like theirs, and have you submitting in no time.”

The mention of Leo sent a jolt through Y/N. He knew Leo was one of the few people Dick saw as a serious threat, both in terms of Y/N’s escape plans and as a rival Alpha. Leo’s interest in Y/N was no secret, and Dick’s paranoia about the possibility of another Alpha succeeding where he had failed had only grown worse over time. It was a twisted cocktail of jealousy, insecurity, and possessiveness that fueled Dick’s increasingly erratic behavior.

Y/N didn’t respond, knowing any attempt to explain would only fuel Dick’s rage further. The Alpha’s possessiveness was suffocating, and the fact that he was aware of it—aware of how his insecurities were slowly driving him mad—only made it worse.

“It’s like you want them to think they have a chance,” Dick growled, his voice thick with frustration. “Like you’re inviting it. Do you enjoy taunting me, baby? Do you get off on knowing that I can’t hold onto you the way I’m supposed to?”

The accusation stung, not because it was entirely false, but because it touched on a deeper truth that Y/N wasn’t ready to confront. The twisted satisfaction of knowing he could still provoke Dick, still maintain some semblance of control, was a dangerous game—a game that risked his sanity as much as it did his safety.

His fingers pressed hard into the glands, triggering a rush of slick and a faint release of scent that mixed with Dick’s own. The sexual bond was temporary, but it was a small victory that Dick was desperate to secure. “You know what’s driving me mad?” Dick’s voice was low, filled with a bitter desperation that was almost painful to hear. “It’s that no one can smell my claim on you.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the raw truth in Dick’s words. For the Alpha, this wasn’t just about marking territory—it was about reclaiming a sense of identity that had been shattered by repeated failures. “You don’t smell like me,” Dick continued, his fingers pressing harder against Y/N’s thighs, as if trying to force the bond to sink deeper. “No matter how many times I mark you, no matter how many times I knot you, shoot every last drop of my cum inside you, it doesn't fucking work. Why the fuck doesn't it work? It’s like your body rejects me.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in his chest, the mixture of humiliation and twisted satisfaction warring within him. He knew he should be disgusted by the words, by the crude reminder of Dick’s failed attempts to make him submit completely. But there was also a small, defiant part of him that reveled in the fact that he had managed to resist—managed to hold on to a small piece of himself, even in the face of such overwhelming pressure.

His hands slid higher, fingers pressing into the sensitive sexual glands on Y/N’s inner thighs—glands that were meant to carry the Alpha’s scent, to reinforce the temporary bond they shared. “These should be dripping with my scent,” Dick murmured, his voice rough and desperate. “You should be drenched in it, so no one can question who you belong to. But instead, all they can smell is your own fucking scent, like you're not even claimed at all. Like I haven't soiled you, haven't made you cry on my knot at least a hundred times, so every Alpha out there knows not to even look at you.”

Y/N bit his lip, the sensation of Dick’s fingers pressing into the glands both painful and arousing. The sexual bond was the easiest to establish but also the easiest to break, a temporary connection that had to be reinforced constantly. It was a cruel reminder of the limits of Dick’s control—a bond that could be formed in moments but would fade within days if not maintained.

“You know what that makes me feel like?” Dick muttered darkly. “It makes me feel like a weak Alpha, like someone who can’t even claim his own Omega.”

The confession was a stark display of vulnerability, a glimpse into the crumbling facade of Dick’s dominance. His voice trembled with both anger and self-loathing as he continued to grind his hips against Y/N’s ass.

Y/N’s eyes flickered with defiance, but he kept his voice level. “So, you think forcing a temporary bond will fix that?”

Dick’s response was a low, desperate growl, his grip tightening further. “I’ll reinforce it every damn day if I have to,” he promised. “You’ll never be able to wash my scent off you again. I'll make sure everyone knows you're mine, whether you like it or not. If it takes me filling you up until you can't take anymore, until you're dripping with my cum and screaming my name, I'll do it."

The words were a twisted blend of threat and promise, a dark reminder of the power Dick held over Y/N. His hands moved higher, sliding under the tight fabric of the suit and cupping the Omega's breasts. "No one else can have you. Not as long as I've got something to say about it. I'll make you come so hard, you'll forget anyone else ever touched you," he hissed, his voice a low, possessive growl.

The words were crude, filled with a brutal kind of determination that made Y/N’s body shudder involuntarily. The Batmobile’s engine continued to hum beneath them, the vibrations only adding to the suffocating tension in the air.

“You can try,” Y/N whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the Batmobile’s engine. “But you’ll never truly have me.”

Dick’s response was a low, frustrated growl, his grip tightening once more as he buried his face in the crook of Y/N’s neck, inhaling deeply. The scent was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to temporarily soothe the twisted sense of inadequacy that had been gnawing at him for months.

“I’ll find a way,” he muttered, his voice filled with a dark, unrelenting determination. “I don’t care how long it takes or how many times I have to do this. I will make you mine, Y/N. One way or another.”

The threat hung in the air, heavy and ominous, as the Batmobile continued its journey through the dark streets of Gotham. And as the Batmobile's interior was suffused with a heavy, oppressive heat, the tension between the two heightened by the confined space. Dick’s hands continued their invasive exploration, his fingers teasing the slickened creases beneath Y/N’s suit. Each touch was a precise mix of stimulation and dominance, crafted to reinforce his claim. Y/N’s scent subtly shifted in response, becoming softer and more yielding—a reaction his body betrayed despite the rebellion in his mind.

Y/N’s hips began to move unconsciously, instinctively grinding back against Dick’s unmistakble bulge. It wasn’t a deliberate action—more a desperate attempt to alleviate the unbearable friction building inside him. As he pressed against Dick, he could feel the Alpha’s body beneath him in even greater detail. The solid muscles were unmistakable, the strength beneath the suit palpable and unyielding.

Dick's uniform always did a great job emphasizing every contour of his athletic form. His broad shoulders were squared and thick, muscles bulging beneath the tightly fitted armor. The emblem of the blue Nightwing stretched across his chest, accentuating the pectoral muscles that stood firm like sculpted stone. Beneath the material, Y/N could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of Dick’s chest, the heat radiating from his body overwhelming, both physically and mentally. His own throbbing phallus member twitched against the tight material of his suit, each jolt of friction sending him closer to the edge of surrender.

Dick felt it, his possessive growl vibrating against Y/N’s neck. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice dark and filled with a twisted sense of satisfaction. “I can feel how much you want this, how much your body needs it.”

The words were humiliating, yet undeniably true. Y/N’s scent began to shift subtly, the undertones becoming softer, more yielding—a physiological response to the Omega's instinctual need for protection, for the Alpha’s claim, even as his mind rebelled against the situation. It was a betrayal of the worst kind, a stark reminder of how deeply ingrained the dynamics of their relationship were, no matter how much he fought against it.

Dick’s muscles were hard and unyielding, his physique built for agility, speed, and raw power. His biceps strained against the suit’s sleeves as he adjusted Y/N’s position, the movement causing his traps and deltoids to flex noticeably. His arms were thick, defined with corded muscle that spoke to both the brutality of his training and the relentlessness of his desire to dominate.

“I can feel how much you want this,” Dick whispered into Y/N’s ear, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. His hands continued to explore, one settling possessively on Y/N’s hip, the grip firm and claiming. The action pressed Y/N’s ass harder against Dick’s prominent bulge, emphasizing the unmistakable hardness pressing into the Omega’s lower back. Y/N’s small Omega cock twitched helplessly, trapped and pressed painfully against the roughness of the suit’s fabric.

Dick’s torso was as solid as granite, the defined abs beneath the suit shifting slightly with every thrust and movement. His lat muscles flared out in a V-shape from his waist, a physical symbol of his dominance, enhanced by the snug fit of his armor. Each movement was powerful and deliberate, emphasizing the sheer physicality of the Alpha that Y/N was helplessly pinned against.

“Say it,” Dick demanded, his voice edged with desperation and authority. “Say you’re mine.”

Y/N’s body ached, every nerve on fire from the mix of scent-marking, sexual dominance, and psychological warfare that defined their twisted relationship. Despite everything—despite the way his body trembled and his Omega instincts screamed for submission—his mind held on, clinging to the small spark of defiance that remained. “You wish,” he finally managed, his voice a ragged whisper, laced with both defiance and the slightest hint of resignation.

Dick’s response was immediate. He let out a low, frustrated growl, his hand tightening on Y/N’s thigh as he adjusted the Omega’s position. He pulled Y/N closer, forcing him to straddle the Alpha more securely, the new angle causing Y/N’s ass to grind harder against Dick’s bulging erection. The motion was both humiliating and electrifying, the friction against Y/N’s slickened slits adding a layer of unbearable pleasure that blurred the lines between defiance and desire.

“If you won’t say it,” Dick muttered darkly, his breath hot against Y/N’s ear, “then I’ll just have to make you.”

The ride back was a dizzying blur of aggressive touches and scent-marking, Dick’s fingers relentless as they sought to reinforce a bond that had yet to fully form. By the time the Batmobile pulled into the Batcave, Y/N’s body was trembling with both exhaustion and arousal, his inner walls clenching around the phantom presence of Dick’s touch.

As they came to a stop, Dick wasted no time. With a single, powerful motion, he lifted Y/N off his lap and swung him over his broad shoulder. The Omega’s body landed with a helpless flop, his face pressed against the curve of Dick’s back. Y/N’s senses were filled with the scent of the Alpha’s sweat and pheromones, the overwhelming aroma intensifying his body’s instinctual response.

Dick’s broad back was like a wall, firm and unyielding beneath Y/N’s chest as he struggled to regain some semblance of control. The prominent ridges of his spine were visible even through the suit, each bump accentuated by the strain of carrying the Omega. The muscles of his back rippled with every step, showcasing the powerful definition of his lats and traps. His narrow waist contrasted sharply with the bulk of his shoulders, highlighting the impressive strength that kept Y/N slung helplessly over him.

The Batcave loomed ahead as Dick strode inside, Y/N slung over his broad shoulder like a victorious trophy. The Omega’s body was limp, his breathing uneven from the rough handling and overwhelming mix of arousal and resentment. Every muscle in Dick’s frame was taut with dominance, his biceps bulging and flexing as he kept a secure grip around Y/N’s thighs. The stark lighting of the cave highlighted the rigid contours of Dick’s back and shoulders, the layers of his suit stretching over the powerful muscles beneath. His defined traps flared with each purposeful step, accentuating the sense of strength that surrounded Y/N.

Without pausing or glancing back, Dick’s voice rumbled low, the words dripping with raw possession. “Tonight, you’ll reek of me inside and out. And soon, everyone will know who you belong to.”

The words were a promise and a threat, echoing through the dim expanse of the cave like a verdict sealed in darkness. Dick’s gaze remained focused straight ahead, his face set with grim determination. The intensity of his forward march was matched only by the single-minded need etched into every line of his body—a need that spoke of a relentless desire to claim Y/N again and again, until there was no question of his ownership.

Despite the oppressive heat and the heavy dominance radiating from Dick, Y/N allowed himself a small, defiant smile. The road ahead was bound to be darker and more dangerous, but tonight marked a crucial victory. He had managed to pass the first test, and as the cavernous space of the Batcave swallowed them, Y/N knew that the game was far from over—it was only just beginning.

GET ME TO A CHURCH!

[madsxyins]

Say it Again

pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: Sexual content, Possessiveness, Rough sex, Emotional distress, Language (lmk if i missed something!!)

synopsis: After a girl flirts with you at the gym, Paige’s jealousy boils over—leading to a heated, emotional night where she reminds you exactly who you belong to.

‼️MDNI‼️

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It had started at the gym.

The girl with the ponytail and too-eager smile. The one who always seemed to hover a little too close when Paige wasn't around. Today, she'd been bolder-lingering at your side between sets, touching your arm when she laughed, asking if you were "seeing anyone serious." Paige had seen it all.

She hadn't said a word. Not then.

Now she was speaking with her body.

Your voice was a trembling mess, words spilling out between gasps and hiccupping sobs.

"F—fuck, Paige, I'm—I'm sorry, I didn't—I wasn't—"

You couldn't get a full sentence out.

Could barely think.

Paige's grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging deep into your flesh as she slammed into you, her strap stretching you to your limit. Her control was unwavering, but her breath was ragged-like she was holding something back, some fire she didn't want to fully unleash.

"You let her flirt with you," she growled, her voice low and cutting, the heat of it pouring over your skin.

"Right in front of me. You smiled at her."

You cried out as her hips snapped forward again, the sound of skin on skin sharp and unrelenting. Your hands scrambled for her shoulders, for something, but she was relentless.

"She was touching you," Paige went on, eyes dark and focused. "Looking at you like she could fucking have you."

You shook your head, tears rolling freely now. "I—I didn't mean to—Paige, I swear-"

But it didn't matter. Not now.

She shifted, hooking your legs over her shoulders, her grip tightening as she drove into you deeper, harder. The new angle stole your breath and pushed you even further to the edge, pleasure crashing against guilt like waves against a cliff.

Paige leaned down, her chest brushing yours, her breath hot and heavy against your cheek.

"You didn't stop her," she snarled, her words punctuated by a hard thrust that left you gasping. "You didn't say no.

You let her think she had a chance."

"I—I didn't—"

You tried to speak, but it came out as a broken sob, your body arching beneath her involuntarily, chasing every punishing thrust.

Her hand slid up to your jaw, tilting your face until you had no choice but to meet her gaze.

"I saw the way you looked at her," she whispered, eyes burning with something between fury and desperation.

"And now you're gonna look at me.

While I remind you who you belong to."

Your breath caught as her thumb grazed your lower lip, then pressed against it, silencing the protest you didn't even have the strength to make.

"You're mine," she murmured, and you swore your whole body responded to the words-tightening around the strap, heat coiling low in your belly. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you gasped, voice shaking.

"Paige, I'm yours, I swear."

Her smirk was sharp, satisfied-but it didn't soften her pace. If anything, it made her move harder, faster, her free hand bracing against the headboard for leverage. The wood creaked under the force of it, the room filled with the rhythm of your bodies colliding, your breathless cries, and her low groans.

"You're gonna stop talking to her," she hissed. "You're gonna block her number. Delete the messages. And if she even looks at you again, you're going to tell her to fuck off."

Her hand slid down to your throat-not squeezing, just resting there, a silent reminder of her control.

"Or I swear, I'll make you regret it."

You nodded frantically, more tears spilling over-this time from the pressure building in your core, from the heat and the high that threatened to break you open.

"Y—yes, Paige," you gasped. "I—I'll do it. I promise."

She smirked, a flash of triumph glinting in her eyes-but she didn't stop.

She pressed her forehead to yours again, her voice soft and sharp all at once.

"Good girl."

The praise made your body burn, shame and pleasure coiling tightly in your stomach.

"Now take it. Take all of me."

And you did.

You took her anger, her jealousy, her fear-the unspoken truth that underneath all of it, she just wanted to keep you. Wanted you to choose her, only her. Your climax shattered through you like a storm, your voice breaking into a scream as Paige held you through it, never letting up, never letting go.

Even when it was over, when you were limp and trembling beneath her, Paige didn't move right away. She hovered there, forehead pressed to yours, her hand still gently cupping your jaw.

"You're mine," she whispered again.

This time, softer. A little broken. A little afraid.

You kissed her-salt and sweat and everything you couldn't say.

"I've always been yours."

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶

author’s note: it’s my first time writing smut pls bare with me😭 i think i did pretty okay… i took a lot of inspiration from the previous fics i’ve read! thank you for reading!!!:)

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Hiii

Can I request top!Agatha Harkness x bottom!reader? And Agatha overstimulates reader with her fingers and magic. maybe you could add breeding kink

PLEASE 🥺

Under Her Spell

Top!Agatha Harkness x bottom!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, top!Mommy!Agatha, subby!reader, overstimulation (R), use of vibrator (R), Agatha uses magic to restrain R, A uses magic strap on R, breeding kink, magic strap does have cum

Word Count: 1,151

A/N: I had a fun time exploring this first time really writing Agatha, so I did go a little overboard from my usual requests. Hope you enjoy anon!

The rays of the setting sun flooded through the double floor to ceiling picture windows leading into the living room of your shared space. You had fallen asleep for a nap earlier in the afternoon only to be woken up by the rays on your face.

The timing seemed to be perfect though as you heard the familiar sound of the front door unlocking and opening. Shoes being taken off and set on the rack by the door. Keys dropped in the bowl.

“I'm home, angel!” you hear your girlfriend call out, making you smile as you get up from your spot on the comfy sectional. You kept your blanket wrapped around you, not willing to give up its warmth just yet.

You shuffled your way over. A smile on your face as well as hers as her deep blue eyes settle on you.

You bound up to her, blanket falling and forgotten about as the warmth of her embrace takes over.

“Welcome home!” You say, burying your face in her chest.

“Did you miss me dear?” You look up at her nodding “We're you a good girl while I was out?”

“Of course! I was the best!” Agatha already knew that, of course she did. She always had eyes and ears around the house to keep an eye while she was away.

“Well good girls deserve rewards, don't they?” She pulled you up and into a kiss, slowly moving the two of you to the bedroom. “Strip down sweetie. I'm going to get some toys to play with.” You undressed quickly, not wanting to upset Agatha and got yourself on the bed as she came back with only a magic wand making you tilt your head in confusion.

Before you can verbally question anything Agatha waves her hand, purple swirls of magic tug on your wrist until they're above your head. Your legs being tugged in opposite directions being held firmly in place by her magic. You couldn't move even if you wanted to.

The wand is being held in place over your clit Agatha turning it on its highest setting.

“Ahhhh…Agatha…” she smirked down at you.

“Stay right there pet. I'm going to go take a shower.” You whine and try to squirm, but no matter how you moved the vibrator was in just the right spot. “Cum as much as you like pet. I want the bed soaked by the time I'm back.” That was how Agatha left you as she closed the on-suite bathroom door.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

“Are you still with me sweetie?” Your eyes glazed over as your head lulled towards her,

“Mama…” your brain was entirely fuzzy. Words are difficult for you right now. You lost count after five, but you knew from the look on Agatha's face she was happy.

Your eyes trailed over her still wet and naked body before your eyes landed on the magic strap between her legs and you knew this wasn't over. Agatha took the vibrator away from your now extremely overstimulated clit. You shudder in relief though you could still feel phantom vibrations from it being there for an hour.

“Are you ready dear?” Agatha asked, already knowing the answer. You dumbly nodded your head. “Such a good girl doing exactly as I had asked. Now it's time for your reward.” Agatha moved herself between your legs, lining herself up with you. She knew you were more than wet enough. She let your legs go in favor of holding them as she pushed into you. Making you moan out and pull against your restraints.

“Mommy! Touch! Pease!” Your last word slurring slightly as she hits your spot.

“Shhh soon baby, let Mommy enjoy you for a bit.” Agatha cooed into your ear in such a way that made you shiver and fall deeper into that fuzzy head space only being able to moan. Words are becoming too much for your brain to handle currently.

Agatha let her mouth wander, biting and sucking wherever she could, she loved marking you and since she had started you always had various states of hickies littering your body from fresh purple to healing yellows. A beautiful collage that Agatha had made across the canvas of your body.

You came back from your thoughts when Agatha added her fingers back into the mix on your clit.

“C-cummin’ Ma…” you somehow managed out.

“Go on, baby girl. Cum for Mommy.” Agatha husked, breathy in your ear. As the coil inside you snapped once more and she finally let your arms go as she continued to pump inside you.

“Mama…too mush…” you gripped her, scratching down her back.

“One more angel. I want you to cum with me. You can do that, right? You're such a good girl for me.” You nodded though everything felt like it was on fire in both the best and worst way.

The build up was quick for both of you as Agatha gripped you tightly, looking down into your Y/E/C orbs.

“I'm gonna cum baby. Gonna cum all inside you and fill up that pretty tummy until you're perfectly full and breed with my babies.” You moansled at her words, you hips moving with her own as, making her strap hit your deepest parts and as soon as she started to spurt inside of you, you snapped and joined her in the bliss of yet another orgasam as you gripped and clawed at Agatha only able to repeat, “Breed me Mommy…please…please breed me…” your brain on autopilot.

Agatha had trained you so well over your time together as her movement slowed down. Slowly pulling out making you groan and clench around nothing as she shushed and cooed at you.

“It's okay sweetie. I'm right here. I'm gonna grab you water and a towel.” With a flicker of Agatha's wrist the room was cleaned. No more of your mess on the bed and it even felt warm as you started drifting off until you felt the cold cloth against you as you instinctively tried to pull back, but her strong hands held you there. “It's okay baby I need to clean you. I know I overstimulated you didn't I?” she cooed, your hazy eyes looking at her.

“Yes.”

“You loved it though, didn't you?” she asked with a smile as she helped you sit up to drink some water.

“Yes.”

Agatha got the two of you in your pajamas with a snap of her fingers, letting you curl up against her body. You start falling asleep comfortably against your dominant and your girlfriend in your fuzzy little headspace.

“I love you Y/N you did so well for me tonight.” She whispered as she rubs your back and runs her fingers through your hair as you smile and press yourself further into her.

“I love you too, Aggie.” That night you fell asleep with a smile on your face.

[2kiran]

HIROMI HIGURUMA 香菸 ── `` switch h.h. gn reader.

just saying but HIGURUMA’s the type of guy to use you as stress relief. it doesn’t matter who’s topping, you’re still the one who’s going to take it. the pace depends on him, but one thing is for sure; he’s going to continue until neither of you can cum anymore.

HIGURUMA is definitely into face riding. grind on his nose, or maybe he’ll do it on yours. man’s a groaner but if you manage to tease him, play with his tip or clit, he’d let out a soft whimper.

he occasionally whines. if he’s really worn out, his hips would stutter until they finally give out. his grip on your shoulders or waist would soften, face hidden into the crook of your neck as his sensitive cock throbs with barely any cum coming out. ):

masterlist

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

Obedience

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.7k (Oops? This started as a ficlet, but it sort of got away from me... Oh well)

Summary: Wanda has to teach you obedience and sometimes that means doing as Mommy tells you, even if you don't want to.

Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, obedience training, edging, ruined orgasm, praise, pussy spanking, use of vibrator, top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader, Mommy Kink;

Masterlist with all my works.

Cruel Mommy Wanda, who puts you through obedience training, because she wants her special girl to always listen to Mommy, no matter how hard, or unfair, or down right mean her commands are. “Take your panties off.” She’d say, almost off handedly, while the two of you are at the door, ready to go out. “But you said we’re leaving…” You’d protest and she’ll only give you a stern look. “Yes, and I want you with no panties on.” Wanda would explain, watching the hesitation flash across your face before you comply. She’d have to train you out of that, she thought to herself, opening the front door, while you were still holding your panties. “Give them to Mommy.” She’d offer you her outstretched hand, watching you try to hide what you have in your hand while you give the panties to her. Wanda only puts them in her purse and guides you to the car, opening the passenger door for you and helping you inside, before she takes her seat at the wheel.

She touches you teasingly and edges you all the way to the store as punishment for your hesitation, all the while she explains that Mommy always knows best and you should never question her. If she wanted you to do something, than you must trust that she knows what’s best. And if she wanted you to hand your panties over to her, you should simply do so, without any reservations. If someone was to see, then it was your Mommy’s wish and that was final. As you walked through the store, your bare pussy leaking juices that smeared across your thighs, you could only think of that lesson, desperate to go back home, so you can beg Wanda to take care of the ache between your legs. Or she’ll message you during class and order you to send her a picture of your pussy. It’s not a request, it’s an order, but you still hesitate. “Mommy, I’m in class.” You’ll send her a text back and from the quick “Now!” that you get, you know you made a mistake. You quickly make an excuse and leave, to do as you are told, and once she receives her picture, you think you’ll be done, but Wanda is adamant that you have to learn obedience. She makes you slap your own pussy, right there and then and she tells you that she wants another picture. “If that pussy isn’t red enough for my liking, little girl, Mommy will spank that pussy till it’s raw.” She sends quickly and you only stare at the message with wide eyes, but you know better than to disobey. You know her hand will be much crueller than yours can ever be. Over time you learn your lesson, each mistake, each hesitation was followed by cruel punishments, until you stopped thinking twice before you do as you’re told and Wanda couldn’t be prouder, but she still wants to test the limit of your obedience, so she makes you kneel on your shared bed, legs open and your hands behind your back, while she pulls out your favorite vibrator and lays it under you. She’s left you denied for a few days now, just to makes this all the more tempting and she watches your inner struggle while she switches the vibrator on.

“Go on, my love, lower yourself on it.” She tells you, her voice sweet and calm and so much kinder than her assessing eyes. You do as you are told, the vibrations so good against your needy clit. You want to grind on it, but you know better than to take more than is offered and Wanda practically beams with pride. “Look at you! You’ve come so far, my darling girl. Mommy trained you well.” She smiles, her gentle hand caressing your cheek. It makes you blush. “Thank you, Mommy.” You smile up at her making Wanda’s eyes sparkle, her heart swelling with love. She lets you stay that way, until you start to get close, offering you sweet kisses, her hands roaming your body and teasing your nipples. She marks your neck, sucks purple marks on your shoulders and collar bones, her steady hands groping your ass and squeezing the tender flesh. “Are you getting close, love?” She asks when your cute whimpers turn to moans of pleasure. You give her a nod, eyes pleading with her silently and Wanda smiles. Now the real test starts. “Get up.” She tells you calmly and she is impressed that you do as you are told instantly, even if it makes you whine at the loss of contact. “Was that mean, baby? Did you want to come?” She asks, her voice velvety. “Yes, Mommy. So mean. I want to come.” You admit shamelessly. “Hmmm…” She pretends to think. “Get back down on it, then.” She tells you, but she keeps her hands away now. She wants to see if you will obey her with no help from her at all. She wants to push your limits. And when you get close again, eyes closing in pleasure, chest starting to heave, her voice rings out again. “Up.” She demands and your body instantly follows even if you squirm restlessly. “Such a good listener, baby. Down.” She praises, letting you get back down on the vibrator.

You sigh in relief, a small sound instantly replaced by a moan as you feel that glorious feeling rise within you again. You’re so close and it makes you feel restless. You want to come so badly. You haven’t had a release in days and you’re desperate. Desperate to please her, to make her happy, to keep being her good girl. Desperate to earn your reward. “Get up.” Wanda commands when she feels you’re close, smiling when you once again do as you’re told. She’s so proud of you in this moment. Her perfect, obedient girl. “Please.” You let out a high-pitched whine, clenching your hands behind your back even tighter, resisting the urge to pull her close and beg while you leave sweet kisses on her face. Wanda loves that. Loves when you climb on top of her and start to kiss her all over, begging sweetly for whatever it is you need. Usually an orgasm. But today she doesn’t want you to beg. Not that she doesn’t like it. Quite the contrary actually, but it’s not the point. Today you just have to obey. “Do you want to come, darling?” She asks sweetly, almost cooing at how adorable you are. “Yes! Mommy, please? Please.” You beg again. “So you’re desperate?” Wanda questions, eyes narrowing to the spot between your legs, seeing your slick juices clinging to your folds. You’re soaked. Ready to be ravished and thoroughly ruined, just the way she likes you. “Yes, Mommy, please.” You nod at her, eyes wide and full of hope. “Lower yourself down then. Show me how badly you need to cum.” You do as you’re told, your body following her orders even before you’ve processed the words. Wanda can’t help but marvel at it. But she’s not satisfied just yet. She wants to see if you will do as told, even when you don’t like it. As your clit meets the vibrator again, you gasp. It feels so good. But before you know it, Wanda makes you remove yourself from the stimulation. She makes you edge yourself over and over again, each time letting you get a little closer, before she makes you pull away. “Up.” Wanda demands once more. You don’t know how many times you’ve done this now. This time you were a breath away from orgasming and she knows it, but you did as you were told. “Was that cruel, baby? Making you stop when you were so close?” She asks with a smile. “Yes.” You gasp, and she chuckles.

It doesn’t bother her that you admit to her cruelty. She can admit it too. She’s being mean to you right now, but then again, you like it. You like her little games, like it when she edges you, when she denies you sometimes, when she overstimulates you too. Honestly, you love everything she does to you, because at the end of the day, you love being hers. You were meant to be her submissive little girl and you will always stay that way. “One more time, baby. Put your clit on the vibrator.” Wanda instructs. Her eyes are so hungry now. You’ve done so well this far. You were magnificent. But she has one more test. The moan you let out when you feel the vibrator against your clit is mothing short of spectacular. So is the rising orgasm within you. You could feel it grow with each edge and now, you were ready to explode. The tidal wave of pleasure reaches its peak a few seconds later and you feel it start to tip over and you brace yourself for one of the most amazing orgasms of your life, when Wanda’s voice rings out again, loud and clear. “Up!” She commands sharply and you do so immediately, but it’s too late. The orgasm washes through you, ruined now, without the stimulation. You cry out in frustration, hips jerking pointlessly in the air, while your clit throbs without a single touch. “Did you cum, sweetheart?” Wanda asks, lifting your face up, so you would look at her. “Yes.” You nod sullenly. “Did you feel any pleasure?” She asks again, eyes inquisitive as she still holds your face. “No, Mommy.” You pout. You sound so whiny. “So there’s no way that you’re satisfied.” Wanda concludes and you shake your head. “Good.” She determines and she switches the vibrator off, pulling it from underneath you. “What do you say?” She asks expectantly. “Thank you, Mommy.” You say, still kneeling on the bed, arms pinned behind your back, just as she had ordered you when this started. “You did well, my love.” Wanda says more tenderly now. “You made me so proud.” She tells you as she strokes your hair gently. “You’re a good girl, baby.” She praises, watching as you start to calm. “My good girl deserves a treat for being so obedient for me” She continues, instantly bringing a smile to your face. “Lay down for me, love.” Wanda guides you. “Let Mommy take care of you. I’m sure an orgasm or two will make up for that ruin.” She purrs, descending your body with a smile. After all, obedient girls get rewarded.