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wandasaura · 7 months

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LINGER LIKE A TATTOO KISS

summary — as the summer approaches, so does a shift in your relationship with wanda

warning(s) — established relationship, married wandanat, sensory overload, anxiety, mentions of child abuse (very brief and nondescript), dom/sub dynamics, patience testing, bratty!reader, punishment, teasing, mild humiliation, orgasm denial, spanking, praise, aftercare, entrance of the mommy kink, men/minors dni

authors note — the moment we’ve all been waiting for… or at least one of them ;), we finally got some wanda action, and a couple little domestic scenes because they’re the cutest wives

you are in love universe

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

The supermarket was beyond crowded for it being a Wednesday afternoon in early May. You supposed the air conditioned aisles were being used as an escape from the scalding temperatures of approaching summer that threatened to melt the inventory of every ice cream truck in the neighborhood, but to say you were overstimulated was putting it lightly.

You trailed after Wanda and Natasha with a frown on your face, making your disinterest known to both of the lawyers who were in desperate need of more produce and salad kits. You’d never understand why Natasha favored the plastic bags of lettuce over the perfectly green heads that Wanda grew in the back garden, but she’d thrown at least six prepackaged variations into the cart when you stopped at the stand. You were trailing down the cereal aisle now, and your attitude was getting on both of their nerves.

Wanda had been flat out ignoring your temper tantrum since the moment it started, but Natasha was not as keen to be dismissive as her wife. She’d been throwing out warnings since you’d first come through the automatic doors, but they had all fallen on deaf ears as you stayed persistent in your pout. Your arms were folded over your chest, your eyes slitted into daggers if anyone even attempted to look in your direction. You’d been near perfectly behaved for weeks, spare a few harsh comments thrown in Wanda’s direction, but they’d both been willing to overlook your harshness because aside from those, you’d been an angel. Whatever streak of good behavior you’d been running off of however, had seen its end, and both lawyers in front of you were shocked by the attitude you simmered in.

“If I have to ask you again to pick up your feet, I’m going to make you sit in the cart like a child.” Natasha’s voice was quiet, not willing to draw attention from the other shoppers in the aisle, but there was an unignorable warning in her tone. She’d asked you three times to stop dragging your feet across the floors, and each time you promptly dragged them harder. You were absolutely certain that smudges of black looped the grocery store floors and aided as a map to your current location, but you didn’t care. You’d been so good, so painfully good and pliant and willing to bend to even the slightest gust of wind, but not today. Not now. Not when it was too hot and too cold at the same time. Not when it was too loud and too crowded and you’d asked them both if you could just stay home. They hadn’t wanted that. They wanted to go together, told you that you were going together even after you protested, and you know it’s because they’d wanted to get you some of your favorite treats for the end of the semester coming up, but how could they blame you for being cranky when you’d warned them about not wanting to come along at all. You’d been here for what felt like hours, and if your phone wasn’t being held captive in Wanda’s pocket, you’re sure the digits on your lockscreen would support your accusation.

“Can we leave?!” You ignored Natasha’s warning, wiggled away from her when she got too close, and pressed yourself up against the shelves of cereal boxes. You wouldn’t fare well to the close contact she wanted to initiate, but she didn’t seem to get that, because the second you thought you had found peace in your little corner, she was right back in front of you with a glare only the worst criminals faced. She was not your loving and sweet dominant right now, you’d pushed her too far, and she didn’t take kindly to embarrassment. You’re pretty sure that the man three carts behind you had been gawking at your temperament since you came in, and while Wanda had sent him a glare, he still hadn’t gotten the hint that your little attitude didn’t concern him. Natasha grabbed at your wrists, pulling them away from your chest with a grip too strong to fight. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you wiggled immediately, but she wasn’t letting go. “Nat, let go.” You pleaded with her, desperately tried to get her to understand you needed space right now, but she was seething and subsequently blinded by your panic.

“Natalia.” Wanda called out for her wife, her careful eye watching your movements despite the seeming disinterest on her lips. Your eyes flickered over to Wanda, and while to Natasha it appeared that you were a deer in headlights anticipating a scolding, the Sokovian could see the wisps of actual panic in your stare. “Let go.”

Natasha listened, if only because a crowd had started to form toward the opposite end of the aisle and she wanted to move on before she became the cause of a traffic jam. Her hand left yours, and though it had been making your skin burn, you missed it instantly. Tears brimmed your eyes, but you refused to let her see that, and so instead of pleading that you leave only to be overlooked again, you just dropped your chin to your chest and followed along after them both with a drag in your step.

“This is your chance to tell me what’s wrong.” You practically jumped out of your skin when Wanda’s voice appeared closer than it had been all afternoon. If you had leaned any closer into her, your arm would have brushed her chest. You shuffled away from her, beyond the point of communication. You thought you’d made it pretty clear that you wanted to leave, anytime you acted out Natasha didn’t hesitate to drag you away, but she hadn’t this time. You knew that realistically it was because she needed supplies to make dinner, but after weeks of being good, you couldn’t deny that you had missed the feeling of her heavy hands on your skin in a way that was less than kind. You could ask for what you needed, but you would rather die a slow painful death then ask for what she called a ‘maintenance spanking’. “If you’re not going to communicate, then I don’t want the attitude. You are making a scene. Drop it, pick out some snacks, and try to be nice.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You huffed, making the rash decision to shove her body away from yours with both of your outstretched palms. Wanda’s lips set into a firm line, her eyebrows raised in surprise at the action. You’ve been rude, snarky even, but you’ve never raised your hands to her, even if it was only to create some space between your bodies. You shuffled on your feet, immediately regretting the decision to force space rather than ask for it. You’d been riding her last nerve for days, your sarcastic comments just the slightest bit meaner than usual, but she had been willing to overlook them because she knew you were stressed with finals and outside of those one-off comments you’d been helpful and obedient. There was no way she’d ignore this, and you wanted to cry thinking about how at the end of the night it wouldn’t be Natasha’s hands on your body that you wanted so desperately, but hers. “I– sorry.” You apologized weakly, not even sure what it was that you were apologizing for. Was it because the look in her eyes was undeniably scary, or was it because you pushed her? You knew that it was a mixture of both, but you needed that look to go away before you could even form a coherent thought.

“In the cart.” She demanded, not leaving you any room to argue. You violently shook your head, knowing that being confined to such a small space would only make the panic in your belly worse. There were too many noises and stimulus, too many conflicting temperatures, being confined between four metal bumpers would certainly set you off and you were only just barely keeping yourself together now. “If you want to act like a child you’ll get treated like one. Natasha has asked you four times to stop dragging your feet, and frankly, I can’t trust that you’ll keep your hands to yourself anymore. You either sit in the cart, or you and I will go out to the car and you won’t be getting any of the treats you want. Which one is it going to be?”

“I want Nat.” You pleaded with her, suddenly aware of the fact that you didn’t even know where the other redhead had wandered off to, or when she’d started moving. She had been right in front of you, but now you couldn’t spot her and the thought of losing her in the supermarket spiked worry in your chest. “Where’s Nat?” You didn’t care about how frantic you appeared, didn’t care that you were ignoring Wanda’s question and definitely making things worse for yourself. You hated getting separated, you hated breaking off into pairs even if the three of you had set a meet up location if this were to happen.

Wanda, though annoyed with your behavior, sighed softly and dropped the threatening glare she’d been pointing at you. “Nat went to get some grapes and strawberries. You finished them this morning, remember?” You could only nod, remembering that you had in fact finished their fruit after refusing to eat the eggs that Wanda made for breakfast. It was too hot outside for anything warm to eat. They weren’t giving you a choice in tagging along, and although you couldn’t control where they dragged you, well you could if you had called your safeword and asked for space, but that wasn’t really what you wanted. You still had control over what you ate even if the supermarket was non negotiable, and you knew that the cold fruit would sit better in your stomach when it inevitably came time to leave.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask you what’s wrong, Y/N. If you refuse to answer, I will be the one you deal with when we get home. This behavior is unacceptable.” Wanda remained firm, but there was concern in her voice that made you wonder if you would avoid punishment if you came clean. Deciding that you’d rather face humiliation than her heavy hand on your ass, you relented.

“There’s too many people.” You whispered, shamefully dropping your eyes to the floor, counting the specs of black and gold in the tiles beneath your feet. The design was ugly when isolated, but somehow it worked for the aesthetic of the store when you focused on the full picture. “It’s too loud. And tomorrow's my last final and I’m not sure how it’s going to go, and I have to sleep at my dorm tonight and I haven’t done that since Natty was away. And I just need space right now but I don’t want to be alone.”

The Maximoff residence had practically become your residence since the night you showed up in tears. You’d spent all of your nights in the soft guest bed, and most of your mornings in the dining room eating a homemade breakfast for the last six weeks. It was embarrassing to admit that you had gotten used to being there with them, that now that you had it, you didn’t want to trade it in for your stiff dorm room with a roommate you hadn’t spoken a word to since the first week of classes, even if it would only be for a handful of hours to sleep. You hated sleeping alone, even if you had slept alone in their house almost every night, spare the occasions Natasha fucked you into that fuzzy headspace she adores and they had let you crash in bed with them. Sleeping in your dorm was different, and lonely. And yeah, you had survived three years of dorm living prior to meeting them, but things were different now. You are different now.

Wanda’s face melted into softness at your admission, and suddenly you felt silly for keeping it to yourself for so long, but you’d unasked for self-criticism had convinced you that you were being needy and unreasonable and they wouldn’t understand where your head was at even if you tried to articulate. After almost a year with Natasha, you should’ve known that wasn’t true, shouldn’t have even entertained that thought, but after showing both her and Wanda that you could be good for longer than just a couple hours, you’d felt like raising any problems no matter their origin would only aggravate them. You didn’t want to lose what you had, even if it meant being uncomfortable in a grocery store.

“It is pretty overstimulating in here, isn’t it?” Wanda coos, her green eyes understanding and sympathetic. It’s a violent switch from how she’d been talking to you, but you thrive beneath her gentle validation of your feelings and find yourself nodding along. “Natty and I try our best to accommodate you, but we don’t know everything that can be overwhelming for you. We need you to tell us, so these things don’t happen. Shoving me didn’t make it any less crowded, and ignoring Nat didn’t make it any less loud. I know you were trying your best, but how could we have handled that better?” You should hate the way she’s speaking to you; like a child made of glass, but somehow it makes you feel better. She doesn’t sound mad anymore, there's no unspoken threat of consequences or stripped privileges, she’s just trying to get on the same page as you, trying to get you to understand where your mistakes had been so you can fix them in the future. You hate that you want more of this, whatever it is.

“Telling you.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, trying to take away some of the blame that was becoming heavy guilt in your belly. “I didn’t think you’d listen.”

“Have we ever not listened to you?” Wanda quirks an eyebrow, and you feel properly schooled beneath the expression.

“I told you I didn’t want to come.” You tried to excuse yourself, but the lawyer was having none of your avoidance. You sighed, dropping your shoulders and focusing your attention on your cuticles, picking at the skin that had only recently begun to heal. “Nobody has ever taken me seriously before. My last girlfriend used to parade me around claiming exposure would ‘fix’ me. I didn’t think it would matter to you that I’m overstimulated.”

Wanda didn’t know much of anything about your past relationships. Whenever you talked about them, which was admittedly almost never, it was only ever Natasha who was around to witness realization crash over you like high tide. Your past romantic partners and the estranged relationship with your family had completely destroyed you, however these two successful lawyers that you found yourself entangled with were slowly putting the pieces of your broken heart back together, even if they didn’t realize just how much they were helping you.

“Do you want to leave?” Wanda didn’t dwell on your revelation, she didn’t pick it apart and hone in on all of the ways you knew that she could. She’s a lawyer, the very best one in the world, don’t tell Natasha you thought that; there were a million little things in your brief explanation that had set off alarm bells in her head, but she didn’t pry. You don’t know why you thought she would, but having the topic dropped before it was even picked up had soothed at least a fraction of your newfound worry.

The question startled you, having expected that to be the last thing she suggested, but it felt good to know that she was willing to order takeout for dinner if it meant getting you out of this situation. You wanted to leave, you desperately wanted to run to the exit at the first implication that you were allowed, but they needed groceries, and you wanted the chocolate ice cream sandwiches Natasha had promised. “No.” You whispered, shaking your head just in case she hadn’t heard you over the toddler screaming bloody murder in the juice aisle. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to sit in the cart while Nat and I finish shopping? I’ll give you back your phone and you can listen to your music until we’re done. It’s not a punishment, stop looking at me like that.” Wanda teased, and you giggled softly at her scrunched up nose and creased eyes. It was definitely a better suited look than her angry glare, and you couldn’t stop your finger from reaching out to poke her. “Did you just boop my nose?” She laughed, all of your bratty behavior forgotten about, at least for now anyways.

“It wanted to be booped. It told me.” You shrugged your shoulders, hyper aware of the fact that you’d voluntarily touched her and it hadn’t made your hand turn into flames. Your relationship was slowly on the mend, that much was undeniable, but physical touch was still something you shied away from at no fault of her own, but rather your own insecurities that needed to be worked through. “Are you gonna tell Natty I pushed you?”

“No.” Her honesty surprised you almost as much as her willingness to forgive your fatal misstep, but you nodded curtly, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I didn’t mean to. You were just too close, and Natty didn’t listen when I asked her to let go and I panicked.” You mumbled out the reason for your behavior, aware that it sounded like an excuse but there was no ounce of judgment or disbelief in Wanda’s eyes.

“I know.” She assured, and you deflated in relief. “You’re not going to do it again, if you do I will not be as forgiving, but I know you were feeling crowded, so I’m willing to let it go if you are.”

You nodded eagerly, and Wanda smiled. “Can we go find Nat now?”

As you expected, spending the night in your dorm was torturous. In the six weeks that you’d been away, you’d forgotten how your roommate snores and turns throughout the night, and her mattress was far noisier than yours had ever been. It hadn’t bothered you all that much at the start of the academic year, and maybe that had been because of your exhaustion with the adjustment and workload of seven classes instead of the typical four, or maybe you had just been able to get used to it, but now that you had discovered what true quiet sounds like when you sleep, there had not been a single ounce of rest achieved all night.

Your alarm went off at fifteen minutes to six, and you cursed whoever was cruel enough to schedule an exam for seven in the morning on a Thursday in May, but you shuffled out of bed anyway and dressed quickly in the few articles of clothing that still lingered in your dorm. Most of them had been brought to the Maximoff residence, but what hadn’t made it over because it was significantly useless with the presence of warmer weather, had been dropped off in the storage unit paid for by your mother. The woman was a flaky figure in your life at best, definitely no parent, but you appreciate her dedication to your education. She paid for your tuition, she assured you had the best meal plan and access to books and study materials, and when the seasons changed and you were let out on break, she made sure there was a safe and trustworthy place to store your belongings. She’d never once said she was proud of you, but when she asked for a report of your grades and didn’t immediately berate you, you knew that she was at least satisfied.

If you failed any of your finals, you knew there would be hell to pay. You already weren’t coming home for the summer like you usually did, and although your mother didn’t know the reason why, she was less than happy when you’d relayed the abrupt change in plans three weeks ago. She was a controlling narcissist, a woman that had brought you years of pain and suffering for her own pleasure, you knew what she was capable of the second she caught wind of academic failure, and you would not reward her the opportunity to berate you the way she did in high school when you received anything less than all A’s on your report card. It was stupid to allow a woman with no presence in your life to have so much control, but you needed to at least be perceived as a good daughter if she were going to keep paying your multi-thousand dollar bills.

The weather today was just as hot as yesterday, but there was a rise of humidity in the air that you could feel without even stepping outside. The sky looked thick and unpleasant, miraculously blue and clear, but still gross. As much as you wanted to hide away in your room and avoid the four hour exam that awaited you, it wasn’t in the cards, and so begrudgingly you laced up your shoes and grabbed your favorite pen. It was a simple pen, nothing truly special about it, but since the day you’d stolen it from Natasha’s desk, it had been used for every paper exam. The gold lettering across the black body, the name of her and Wanda’s company, was beginning to scratch and chip from the conditions you carried it through. And for being something so beloved, anyone would have thought that you’d treat it with respect, but you released copious amounts of anger and frustration on the ballpoint pen. Your teeth dug into it when you didn’t know an answer, your nails scraped at the paint when the words you had stored away in your memory felt impossible to grasp, and there were countless times that the entire pen sat dismantled and in pieces on your desk when you just needed something else to focus on for a few seconds. During one exam, you’d taken it apart mid-way through. The spring had bounced from between your fingertips and ended up halfway across the room. Your professor was a real bitch, and hadn’t let you retrieve the piece until every single person had already left and finished. You passed the exam, but not by much, and you blamed your grade on the fact that you had to finish it with a purple gel pen that was less than special. You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Leaving your room behind, you walked to the classroom that you’d be sitting the exam in. It wasn’t a building you were familiar with, and so you packed an extra ten minutes into your schedule to avoid being late. Flowers had started to bloom in the bushes, and the grass was so much greener then it had been in the dead of winter, but there was no comfort to be sought in this environment. Your university was fine, albeit a bit bland, but Westview had become your home. You thought Wanda’s flowers smelled sweeter then the ones planted here, and the grass in their yard was the brightest shade of green you’ve ever seen. You don’t know how they have the time to take such tender care with their plants, but it made sense for them. They were busy women, women with a fast paced life and career, but there were still mundane rituals that clung to their routine. Before the contract, it had been almost impossible to imagine CEO and world-class lawyer Natasha Maximoff taking out the trash, but now you know she does it every Wednesday. It was also impossible to imagine Wanda Maximoff on her knees and covered in mud, there was never even a wrinkle in her business attire when she returned from the office after sixteen hour days, but now you’re privy to the fact that she doesn’t shy away from getting dirty when she tends to the weeds in her garden. It’s the simple things that make their company so much better then what you’ve found at Sword University, but no matter how much you wish you could be in Westview with them, no amount of heel clicking could take you there.

When you found the exam room, you noted that it was unpleasantly cold, and you cursed at your inability to have remembered to bring along a sweatshirt like Natasha had suggested. There was no consistency at school, some classrooms were blisteringly hot and you could work up a sweat in minutes just from sitting still, and some were so cold your fingers forgot how to function. It didn’t matter the season, or if you simply walked down the hallway, the temperature was never the same and it varied from room to room. You chose a desk near the windows. Not right next to them, knowing that it would get too hot if you were pressed right beside the uncovered sun, but close enough to still feel the lick of warmth as the golden beams of daylight nipped at your skin. It didn’t take much longer for your peers to start flooding in, and their presence brought another factor of warmth to the room, though it wasn’t much and some who hadn’t been lucky enough to find a seat near the windows shivered. You smiled at the familiar face of a student who had claimed the seat next to you. You didn’t have many friends, didn’t see the point in socializing when your focus needed to be academic, but you had grown fond of a few of the faces you saw every week.

“This your last exam?” Monica Rambeau asked you, leaning in closer to your desk so that you wouldn’t have to shout over the other students in the room. You had seen her around since your very first class in freshman year, and you quickly became reliant on each other for notes if one of you happened to be sick and needed to miss a lecture you shared. Your major was complex, not entirely science related but not entirely separate either. You wanted to focus more on security and technology, but for some reason your school demanded that all computer science majors take chemistry and physics. Monica was good at both, you were not. She had saved your ass with her color coded notes too many times to ever ignore her small-talk.

“Thankfully.” You laughed, tapping your pen against your desk anxiously. “I’m moving the rest of my shit out next week and then I’m spending the summer in Westview. What about you?”

The brunette shook her head, and you winced in sympathy. As grueling as it had been to have most of your exams scheduled in the same week, save for the three classes that had requested papers and projects from you, it was nice to be done so soon into the exam period. You knew that some other unfortunate students would be stuck here for at least another week. “I have two more tomorrow, then I’m heading back to Louisiana. You ready for this?”

“Not at all.” You laughed, though your jittery leg and fidgeting fingers easily gave away just how anxious you were. “Sitwell hasn’t made sense a day in his life, I doubt the exam will be any more coherent than his lectures.”

Monica laughed loudly at your acquisition, but she nodded eagerly in agreement. “Tell me about it. I’ve been going over your study sheet for the last two weeks and I think I just barely understand the content from chapter one.”

Your attention snapped to the door when it snapped open again, but unlike the last handful of times, it wasn’t a student that entered, it was your Professor Jasper Sitwell himself, and in his hands were thick bundles of paper that would determine the next year of your life. If you failed this exam, you could kiss your paid for tuition goodbye. You appreciated Monica’s attention to body language, because she seemed to get the hint that you were in no mood to continue your conversation now that Sitwell had arrived. She still offered you a smile though, a whispered ‘good luck’, before she turned straight in her desk and placed three colored pens down firmly. Leave it to Monica to remain dedicated to her color coding even at the end of the semester.

The time had flown by after that. You’d groaned when you saw that the estimated time of this exam would be four hours, but now you felt like that wasn’t nearly enough. The first six pages of questions had come easily to you, though it was still challenging and you doubted that most of your answers were entirely correct, but the last page had stumped you rather quickly and entirely. You jumped between questions, filling in pieces of information when they came to mind, but nothing could jog your memory when you were confronted with the very last question of the exam. Your brows furrowed, a sheen of perspiration clung to your skin. Was it a trick question? No, a professor wouldn’t purposefully stump you when so much was on the line. Despite your confidence in Sitwell, you’re absolutely certain that you’ve never gone over any materials that even slightly relate to the last topic. You’ve read the textbook forward and backwards, you practically dreamed about this course material, but you had never seen these words present in any of the lectures.

Your hand shot up from the desk before you could stop yourself, but by time you realized you were seeking attention from Sitwell, he had called you up to the front of the room. A glance at the clock on the wall beside the door told you there was just under twenty minutes left. By this point in an exam, most students would have been gone, but every single one of them still remained, and although you weren’t intentionally looking at anyone’s paper, the few that you had seen had all been open on the last page. You weren’t the only one confused.

“How can I help you, Ms. Y/L/N?” Sitwell kept his voice quiet, and like always, detached. You wondered how a man who seemed to hate every person even remotely younger than himself had found a profession in teaching, but you didn’t let his attitude deter you from asking anyway. This question could very easily make you seem like an idiot, but you were confident in yourself, and well, Jasper Sitwell seemed exactly the type to make a mistake like this.

Matching his quiet tone, assuring that only the first row of students could hear you, you laid your exam in front of him and pointed out the question. “This isn’t related to your course, sir. It’s not in the textbook, and we’ve never gone over it in a lecture.”

You waited for the moment he berated you for questioning his exam but it never came. When you grew the balls to look up at him, you found a smirk of satisfaction on his lips. “You’re correct. That question has no value in this course. It’s been on my exam for the last ten years and nobody has ever questioned me. Congratulations, Ms. Y/L/N, it seems somebody has finally read the textbook.”

A look of sheer bewilderment crossed your face, but Sitwell gave you no chance to speak again before he promptly took the exam from your hands and kept it at his side. Anxiety shot through your stomach when you realized that he wasn’t going to give it back to you. There was still thirteen minutes left on the clock, and you’d intended to spend every last second meticulously checking your work until he had to pry it from your fingertips when time ran out. So much could be wrong about your answers, you could’ve missed a question or twenty, and now you’d have no way of knowing because he wouldn’t give it back.

“Be on your way.” He nodded toward the door when you didn’t budge. There was no use arguing with him, he never listened anyways, but you couldn’t just walk away without checking over your paper one last time.

“Sir, I still have time to go over my answers.” You weakly protested, a single palm extended in the direction of your exam, hoping that for once he was willing to budge. No luck, his jaw clenched and his eyes hardened, and you took that as a sign to get the hell out of dodge before he did something drastic like rip your exam in half. You would never be taking another class from him again, if you even got the chance to finish your degree.

With a sigh of defeat, you headed back to your desk, collected your lucky pen, and waved subtly in Monica’s direction before you headed to the door and broke away from anything and everything even remotely related to academics for the next three months.

Ever since childhood, you have adored the sight of the sun in the spring and summer months. Not in the middle of the day when it was blinding and heavy, but toward the approach of night when everything it’s surface could touch was brightened by ripples of violet and peach presence. Tonight had been the first expanse of light across the shoretown the Maximoff’s lived in, and though they’d both been home all day with a rare break from office obligations, their cars were warm to the touch when you passed by them in the driveway.

Despite the warm air and lingerance of sunshine off in the horizon, your disposition was reflective of the colder times when attitudes clashed and people let themselves fall inward. You’d been blind to the change in mood as a child. There was no bad time of year when you were seven and strangers stopped to compliment your velcro shoes as they passed, but now that adulthood had claimed what remained of your innocence, you’d been shown the true nature of winter and fall. The first time you realized that strangers were nicer in the summer, you’d been fifteen. Admittedly, that was a bit old to only just be realizing that life was cruel and people were snobs, but you’d always been an optimist; you still are an optimist. You vowed to never become someone so mean after that day, but that was yet another promise you had failed to keep for yourself.

Your face is set in a permanent scowl, which seems to be the new normal as Wanda and Natasha move about around you. Your arms are crossed in front of your chest, your eyes staring straight ahead of you at the movie that’s playing in the background. They’re attempting to get the house straightened up, something about hosting a barbeque over the weekend and not wanting to leave the mess to deal with at a later date. Had you been in a better mood, you would’ve offered to help, would’ve laughed and joked along with them, but the unknown of your last exam has firmly pushed you over the edge and now every minor inconvenience is working on your last available nerve.

Wanda laughs at something Natasha whispers in her ear, the two of them somehow always finding a reason to gravitate toward one another despite the many different tasks that still needed to be accomplished. You didn’t think the house was as messy as Wanda claimed, but you hadn’t offered her that briefest sentence of reassurance. When you walked in, defeat heavy on your shoulders as you over analyzed the exchange between yourself and Professor Sitwell, you’d wanted nothing more than to fall into Natasha’s lap and let her distract you however she saw fit. She had, for a couple minutes at least, but then she’d pushed you out of her embrace and had started helping Wanda around the house. The Sokovian was practically on a mission to regain some order, dusting bookshelves and tables, collecting stray blankets that had made their way into the living room and across random furniture pieces. It hadn’t looked messy, just lived in, but that wasn’t good enough.

“Can you lift your feet for a second?” The taller of the pair looked at you expectantly, the neck of their expensive vacuum clutched between her ringed fingers. She hadn’t been the slightest bit deterred by your poor attitude when you came barreling into the house and hadn’t even offered her so much as a hello before you plopped down in Natasha’s lap and dug your face into her neck, and she had even let you put your feet up on her coffee table when eventually the Russian left your side start cleaning. She had been very patient with you, knowing how nervous you were about the exam and your results, but much like yours, her patience wasn’t unlimited. “I asked you a question, I expect an answer.”

You huffed, readjusting yourself on the couch, though you still didn’t move your legs out of her way. Natasha watched the scene unfold with an uninterpretable expression in her eyes. She was aware of how you’d been testing Wanda more and more as the weeks went by, and she had warned you that it was only a matter of time before the woman snapped and dealt with your attitude by her own measures. Three weeks ago, that would’ve been enough to scare you into submission, but you had shrugged off her warning to stop pushing boundaries, entirely uninterested in the conversation she was trying to have.

Wanda sighed and let go of the vacuum, resting it against the couch to be grabbed again later. You’d expected her to move onto a different task, maybe even march her way upstairs until you changed your attitude, but when her hands grabbed at your ankles and harshly removed them from the coffee table, you gasped in shock and flinched away from her touch, a glare settled in her direction.

“Stop!” You whined, kicking your foot out in her direction as a weak attempt at retaliation, but you made no attempt to put them back on the coffee table. Instead, you extended them outward, taking up almost the entire length of the couch. Not that it mattered, neither one of them were planning on sitting down with you anytime soon. Wanda quirked an eyebrow down at you, an expression that you were getting seriously tired of, before she reached for the remote and turned off the television. “I was watching that!” You cried out in annoyance, reaching for the remote that was held away from your hands.

“Good girls get to watch movies.” She simply stated and handed the remote over to Natasha, who seemed to know exactly where it needed to go. The remote was promptly placed on one of the highest shelves in the room, and the fact that it had been done on purpose because she knew you wouldn’t be able to reach that high without a stool only angered you further.

“So what? You’re gonna ground me? I’m not a child.” You snapped at her, your voice tinged with what could only be described as pure venom. The snarky comments you’d been making for days seemed like child's play now, at least then you’d had the decency to show her some semblance of respect, but now, there wasn’t an ounce of anything kind in your tone.

“If you’re going to act like one, I’m going to treat you like one. I have been more than patient with you, even though you’re being nothing short of a brat. My willingness to ignore your little attitude will not last much longer, so I suggest you get over yourself before I have you over my lap.” Her words should’ve scared you, they should’ve worked as a last ditch effort to get you to behave, but if anything, it only spurred you on further. You were beyond the point of simply wanting some kind of punishment. Unlike in recent days when it had been a tickle at the back of your mind, now you desperately needed it. The end of the semester always felt like the biggest relief until it actually came, and you were left with no productive purpose to fulfill. You needed a push in the right direction, and now that you had been introduced to this dynamic, where Natasha was more than willing to make decisions for you and take care of you, you wanted to fall right into that state of comfort and control. Your mind wouldn’t let you stop thinking though, and no matter how hard you pleaded with yourself to just let her take the reins, control would not be so easily relinquished. It had been weeks since your last spanking. Days since the last time she had fucked you hard enough to cause you to slip into subspace. For months you’d been shown and taught about the beauty of this dynamic, and it was just suddenly beginning to fall away. You knew that you didn’t need to be naughty to receive a spanking, knew that if you asked she’d be more than happy to provide it, but you didn’t want to need her just to feel content. It was like a double-edged sword had rammed its way into your brain and every time you turned your head you fought between completely surrendering control and always maintaining it.

“If I’m a brat then you’re a bitch.” You met Wanda’s stare, there was no backing down now. You were so close to what you wanted, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to care that it wasn’t Natasha you were seeking it from. Ever since that night curled up in her arms when the world felt like it was ending, something was undeniably different. You didn’t want to crave her but you did, and the longer she refused to play into your games, the more you wanted her. She was scary when she was mad, terrifying when she was livid, but somehow you had crossed both of those thresholds in only one sentence. There was something dark in her eyes that you’d never seen before, and it made your stomach twist into knots knowing that you were the sole reason she had lost her happy spark. She radiated dominance, expelled the radiant energy of someone who knew they had control, even if for the briefest second, you had been foolish enough to think you were the one with it. It wasn’t anger or frustration in her eyes, although they were both present, but rather dominance. You’d seen her be dominant, you’d been scolded by her many times, but it had always been concealed. She had always remained respectful of your boundaries and control to Natasha only, but you had pushed her too far. Things had changed too much. Neither of you were the women you had been at the start of this situation, and it was only a matter of time before the carpet rolled beneath your feet and you had to face the music.

“Get upstairs.” She demanded of you, and for the first time since showing up, you didn’t have the words to fight. You scrambled off the couch and practically flew toward the stairs, only to stop halfway up when you realized you didn’t know where she wanted you to go.

“Our bedroom, honey.” Natasha called after you, having watched the entire thing unfold. Now that you realized what position you had walked yourself into, there was anxiety flooding your desperate gaze as you pleaded with her to save you. Natasha wouldn’t save you this time though. She had warned you, told you that you wouldn’t like the trap you were walking yourself into, but you hadn’t listened. “I’ll be up to talk with you in a second, it’s okay.”

“Y/N, if you are not in that room in the next twenty seconds, I will not be so kind as to give you the choice about what I spank your ass with.” Wanda’s voice was level, it didn’t waver like you knew yours would if you even dared to try and speak. You nodded frantically, scrambling to get up the stairs and into their bedroom before the countdown in your head got down to zero.

You didn’t know what to do once you were inside, didn’t know if you should close the door or leave it open, didn’t know if you should sit on the bed or continue to stand beside it. You’d never been alone in their bedroom, it felt like an odd invasion of privacy now that you were. Your mind reeled with endless possibilities, though none of them pleasant. Wanda was going to spank you, she had practically promised that, but what else would she do? Would she make you terminate your contract with Natasha because you’d called her a bitch? Would she slap you around like your father had done when you’d ever dared to disrespect him so aggressively? Tears pricked your eyes at all of your unanswered questions, and you noted that this feeling in your belly was distinctly different then the times when Natasha pulled you over her lap. You’d gotten a handful of punishments before, of course you have because even though you like being good for her, it’s still fun to act out, but those punishments had always been light with the unspoken promise of sexual relief afterward. This was the first time you’d ever actually been punished outside of sexual interactions. This was the first time you’d ever pissed Wanda off enough to be the one who dealt the cards. So much was changing and you couldn’t keep up, but really there was nothing for you to keep up with. You didn’t know what would happen next, you had never been in this situation before.

The floorboards creaked beneath footsteps, and you noted that just beyond the window not covered by blinds, the sunshine had finally settled. Nothing was left to see beside darkened skies and the roofs of all of the other houses on the block, though even then the sight was void of any actual interest. The Maximoff residence was the largest on the block, and it towered over the houses that sat on both sides of it. You’d always thought that CEO’s lived in big lavish mansions, but Wanda and Natasha had chosen a perfectly normal town to settle down in. They had expensive cars, sure, but that wasn’t even a fraction of the money they had. They were total anomalies, and that fact was only making you grow more uneasy.

“Detka.” Natasha sighed, and you were thankful it was only her that had entered. Had Wanda been with her, you would’ve spiral face down into a panic attack that couldn’t be stopped. “I warned you, did I not?”

You sighed, knowing that there was no time for her to give you all the reassurances you needed. Wanda was being kind enough to let Natasha check in on you, but you doubted she had the patience to sit downstairs for hours as you pleaded with your dominant to give you answers even she didn’t have. “J-Just tell me what’s gonna happen. I need to know what’s going to happen.”

“She’s going to spank you, and then she’s going to hold you, and reassure you that you’re okay. No different from what I do. Are you okay with her spanking you? I know we’ve talked about it, but this isn’t the funishment you thought you’d be getting when we agreed to those conditions, huh?” Natasha collected you into her arms, being surprisingly gentle with you despite the fact that you had just called her wife a bitch. You shook your head against her chest, fisting her loose fitting t-shirt in your heads, fearing that she would pull away far too early for your liking.

“I wanted you to spank me.” You admitted sheepishly into her touch, sighing softly when her fingers tangled into your hair and gently worked out the knots that lingered near the ends. “I’ve been good and you’ve been… soft. And I just can’t get my brain to be quiet, and I wanted you to spank me so I kept trying to push your buttons and you just kept forgiving me.”

“Daddy’s been pretty lenient with you, hasn’t she?” Natasha cooed, not placing blame on your shoulders even though you knew she very easily could have. You nodded in response to her question, feeling better now that she was aware of the root cause of your attitude, even if that didn’t save you from Wanda’s wrath. “You’ve been breaking a lot of rules, rules that Wanda’s aware of.”

“She’s gonna give me ten for every one, isn’t she?” You winced, knowing that this would not be a pleasant experience and your ass was sure to hurt every time you sat down for at least the next week.

“She is, and it’s going to hurt. It’s supposed to hurt, but she’s not going to push you farther than you can handle. What do you call if you need a break?” Natasha asked sweetly, pulling your face away from her chest and holding your cheeks in her hands, forcing you to look up into her eyes and see that there's no lingering resentment or anger.

“Yellow.” You answered, the word engraved in your brain despite having never needed to call it. “Red if I need it to stop completely. But… we’re not playing.”

“Just because she’s not going to touch you after doesn’t mean that it’s okay for her to break you, detka. Is that what you thought was going to happen?” Natasha frowns, her lips turning deeper downward when you nodded as an answer.

“My dad… punished me with violence. He didn’t stop until he wanted to. You’ve only ever punished me sexually, not because I purposely broke the outside rules.” You whispered, another hint at your traumatic past hanging in the air. “I called her a bitch. I tried to kick her. I pushed her in the store yesterday.” You admitted, though when there was no reaction, you guessed that Wanda had already told her.

“Because you needed space. She is not going to punish you for that. She’s going to punish you because you were being disrespectful, and because you need it, huh? You need help getting that brain to shut off. You did so many big things this week, I bet it’s not that easy to just come back to this dynamic and allow us to take control when you’ve been the one in charge all week.” Natasha whispered knowingly, a glint in her eyes that reassured you of her understanding. “Finals are stressful. When Wanda and I were in college, we used to go at each other until we were red in the face and then we’d move on like nothing happened. We get it, milaya. We don’t expect you to be good at this yet, or to know how to ask for what you need. You can stop thinking the world is going to end because you made a mistake.”

“I meant to call her a bitch, but I didn’t actually mean it.” You admitted softly and Natasha chuckled, pulling you in closer and laying a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“We both know what you meant, malyshka. She’s not downstairs brewing in anger, even though I’m sure that’s what you’re thinking. This dynamic is not about fear and power. I should’ve explained that better. You have all the power here, honey, but just like you can call red, so can she. It’s a balance, a team effort. You got it?”

“I got it.” You sighed, leaning into her touch, wishing you could just surrender to this moment for the rest of your life, but there was no way that was happening. As daunting as it was, you needed Wanda to punish you. You want to let go of the guilt, you want to relinquish control and just listen to what they ask of you. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to be apologizing to, but it’s okay. You did nothing wrong, even if I don’t exactly like you calling my wife a bitch.” She teased, her fingers leaving your cheeks to trail down toward your ribs where she knows your ticklish. You shrieked in response, wiggling away from her fingers just in time for Wanda to knock on the open bedroom door and announce her presence.

She was significantly calmer then she had been downstairs, and that faint lick of anger in her eyes had settled to dust, but she still captivated you and sought for your submission. Her eyes were green, you forced yourself to remember that fact. They weren’t overcome with blackness like all the other times you’ve awaited punishment, but thoughts of your childhood didn’t even come to mind as you let yourself be present in this moment. This was not your childhood. The second you needed this to stop, or you needed her to slow down, you had to say one simple word and it would. As much as this act was about you giving over control, you knew that the reality was you would never be fully powerless.

You didn’t know what to say, if you should even say anything at all, so you merely waved your hand in Wanda’s direction, not wanting to completely ignore her. She smiled softly at you, not softening her body language, but at least her face mirrored your greeting.

“Hi, malen’kaya.” She laughed softly, and you were relieved to find that Natasha had been being honest about Wanda not brewing in her anger, though you hadn’t really doubted her, just needed that validation for yourself. “You talk to Natty?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded your head, unaware of how your hand still tangled in the fabric of Natasha’s t-shirt gripped onto her harshly. It was an unconscious thing, but was quickly soothed by a kiss being placed into your hairline.

“I’m gonna be right here, ангел. If I think you need to call red and you’re not doing it yourself, I’m going to call it. Nothing bad is going to happen.” She promised, and you felt better at the proposition that she’d be looking out for you as well.

“That was quite the show you put on downstairs.” Wanda mused, her face back to that blank slate of dominance that made your palms clammy. You stepped closer to Natasha, just barely managing to nod your head at her admission. “Come with me.”

“Go ahead, I’ll still be here.” Natasha sent you toward Wanda with a gentle shove, and when you looked back at her over your shoulder, she merely smiled in reassurance.

Wanda led you over to the walk-in closet You’d never been inside, but you’d seen Natasha disappear into it after a scene, usually when she was scrounging around to find a specific cooling lotion for your ass. Wanda didn’t make any efforts to invade your space, giving you time to accept your fate on your own accord. The space was large, and there were no shortage of dresses and suits hung up on the taller racks. You smiled softly at a purple suit in the corner, wondering which of the two women it belonged to.

“That’s Natasha’s.” Wanda hummed, seeming to follow your eye toward the suit. “That’s not why we're in here though.”

You nodded, pulling your eye away from the suit in favor of following whatever box Wanda was pointing out. It was large and black, one of the only objects in the closet that looked like it didn’t really belong. She walked over to it, getting down on her knees and motioning for you to do the same.

“I can either spank you with my hand, or with a paddle.” You swallowed thickly at your options, but nodded your head and looked down at the case that Wanda had pulled open. Your eyes practically bulged out of your head at the sight of so many sex toys, but Wanda merely laughed at your flushed cheeks. “Natasha isn’t much a fan of being paddled. It stings and will burn for longer than a hand spanking does, but she has received plenty of both.” There’s a tinge of fond exasperation in Wanda’s words that make you think Natasha is better at asking for what she needs than you are, and that most of the spankings Wanda’s internally recounting aren’t all derived from punishment. You remember the conversation you had weeks ago, where Wanda had confirmed that Natasha was the submissive in their relationship.

“I don’t want that.” You whispered, shaking your head adamantly. “Never.”

“Okay. That’s perfectly okay. Not everyone likes instruments being used for a spanking. This is the lotion I’m going to put on you afterward. It’s the same one Natasha uses, but I want you to know what to expect.” Wanda gives you the bottle, and you don’t even bother to look down at it, entirely focused on her face. There’s something different about her like this, so easily dominant and captivating, you want to commit this new energy to memory. “You’re going to get fifty spanks. If you need to slow down, or if you need to stop, I expect that you call your safewords. If I need to stop, I’m going to call mine. Part of your punishment is that you will not be receiving an orgasm afterward. You're lucky I haven’t taken them away for the next week.”

You gulped, suddenly remembering that this was a punishment, although you didn’t know how you could have forgotten that fact. Wanda smirked in amusement at your flushed features, and tenderly she reached up to smoothing stray strands of hair away from your face. “Can I kiss you?” She asked quietly, and although it was Wanda not Natasha, you nodded eagerly. You didn’t hate her, you didn’t dislike her, you wanted her just as badly as you wanted Natasha. You didn’t know how you’d been so blind to that fact for so long. “Words, detka.”

“Yes.” You breathed out, already leaning into her touch when she set her hands on your cheeks and pulled your face into hers. Her lips were soft beneath yours, softer than Natasha’s, and she tasted like the fakest cherries. Her tongue swiped across your bottom lip, asking for entrance rather than demanding it. You didn’t hesitate to let her in, moaning softly into her mouth when her hot and heavy tongue licked against yours and officially claimed you the way you had seen it do to Natasha on a handful of occasions.

You don’t know how many minutes had passed as you sat on the floor of the walk-in closet, but when Wanda finally pulled away from you, her chest rising and falling faster than it had been before, your cheeks were flush for more than one reason.

“You can’t kiss me like that after you tell me I’m not allowed to cum tonight.” You whined softly, squirming on the floor as your arousal made its presence known between your legs. Wanda laughed in amusement, a dangerous smirk playing on her lips.

“I guess little girls need to learn how to behave if they want something from Mommy then.” The softest inch of her accent had drifted into the words, and if that wasn’t enough to send a rush of pleasure straight to your core, the added bonus of her title was. You whined desperately, your thighs rubbing together as you sought out even a second of relief. Flashes of Natasha teasing you on the phone came to mind, and the lust in your eyes only intensified. “Enough.” Wanda scolded, “I want you naked and bent over the bed in the next three minutes.”

You nodded obediently, having done enough arguing for the night. You got to your feet with the same grace as bambi, practically bolting out of the closet and into the bedroom. You giggled softly when you realized that your first kiss with the lawyer who was very proudly a lesbian had been in a closet of all places.

“There’s no way whatever happened in that closet deserves to be laughed about.” Natasha quirked an eyebrow in your direction, though it was significantly less scary then when Wanda did it. She watched you strip out of your clothes hurriedly, not sparing the few minutes you had been given to fold them nicely in a pile.

“Your wife is a lesbian.” You deadpanned, though you knew Natasha was very much aware of that fact if the felt pride flag in what you assumed was Wanda’s side of the closet had ever caught her attention.

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious.”

“And she just kissed me in the closet.” You giggled, and Natasha couldn’t say that she wasn’t equally as amused as you were, but she had the decency to control her laughter in front of Wanda, who you hadn’t even realized was standing right behind you.

“If you don’t want me to add another ten onto your fifty, you’ll bend your ass over my bed and stop making me wait.” Your blood went cold and your spine straightened as you felt the softest trace of Wanda’s warm breath against the shell of your ear. The warning didn’t need to be whispered twice, because you were already scrambling to get into position, a lot less nervous then you had been before. “I want you to count them all. If you miss one, I add two more.”

“Okay.” You whispered, already fisting the comforter in your hands, waiting for the first strike to land against your uncovered ass. You didn’t even have it in your to be embarrassed about Wanda seeing you so exposed, just wanting to get this situation over with so that you could fall face first into Natasha’s chest.

“Is that how we address our dominants now?” Wanda practically growled, standing so closer to you that you could feel the heat of her body radiating onto yours.

“Yes, Mommy.” You fixed your mistake, your eyes pinched closed as you pushed your hips backward until they met her thighs, unconsciously seeking relief for your clit that was pulsing between your legs. You shrieked in surprise when she abruptly stepped away and laid the first hit onto your left cheek in only a matter of seconds. It didn’t take a genius to know that Wanda was well practiced in this domain. The spank was hard, significantly harder then Natasha had ever started out with, and you knew you were in for it with the promise of forty-nine more to come. “One, Mommy.”

Your grip on the comforter got tighter and tighter with each spank that came next until your knuckles were white and your chin trembled from the onslaught of pain. At the thirteenth spank, you moaned in pleasure, and your hips bucked backward desperately searching for pressure between your thighs that never came and wouldn’t come. Wanda’s laughter was anything but genuine behind you, and you didn’t even want to imagine what you must look like to her; bent over the bed she shares with her wife, your ass pink from the assault of her palm, and arousal dampening the insides of your thighs.

“So much for not having a pain kink.” She mused, though she wasn’t really talking to you. Natasha was sitting at the head of the bed with a smug gleam in her eyes, and you knew the sight of you like this was turning her on, if the dilation in her pupils was any indication of that fact. “Little slut is dripping.” You gasped when soft fingers ran over your ass, dipping lower and lower until they found your empty entrance that begged for anything to fill it, be it a dildo or the fingers of the woman who was responsible for pushing you into this state. “Do you like when Mommy hits you?”

“Yes.” You whine, not even attempting to keep your hips still as Wanda collects your arousal on the tips of her fingers, but like promised, never reaches your clit. You cried out your protests when her fingers left your core, only for you to gasp in shock when she leaned forward on the bed and fed them expectantly to Natasha who let her mouth fall open in acceptance.

The redhead moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, lapping at Wanda’s fingers until they were clean of your excitement. A needy moan left your lips seeing the blissful expression on the face of your dominant, and desperately you reached out for her hand that laid next to yours overtop of the white blankets on the bed. She let you grasp it, let you squeeze it and pull at it, but she never leaned in any closer to you. This was a punishment, you would not be rewarded midway through.

Wanda’s additional weight caused the bed to dip, and you had to readjust your stance to keep from slipping onto the floor. She wasn’t behind you anymore, rather perched on the bed beside your body, leaning in close to her wife whose lips shone in the dim lighting of the room with traces of your arousal. Wanda kissed her deeply, the wet sounds their moving mouths made taunting you further, and you groaned in response to their teasing. The lawyer who hadn’t even gotten halfway through your punishment moaned at the taste of you on her tongue, only pulling away from Natasha when she needed a break for air.

She was back behind the second she was breathing normally, and the fourteenth spank came in the same place her thirteenth one had. You counted out the spanks as they came, but other than the contact her palm made with your ass, you were properly ignored. If Wanda made a comment, it was directed to Natasha, and the one time you had been bold enough to answer for yourself, you had been met with a spank to the back of your thigh that was admittedly very soft and careful.

It was after twenty that you no longer found pleasure in her hits, and your moans and whines had turned to cries and sobs. Natasha held your hand firmly, her thumb rubbing against your knuckles as you took your punishment well. Wanda was proud of you, even if she hadn’t told you that yet.

“F-forty!” You sobbed out, arching away from the lawyer's hand only seconds after it came down on your ass. Your entire body ached from the position you were half-stood in, your cunt pulsed with need, but your ass was on fire and you had no doubt that it would be bruised by sunrise tomorrow. “Please.” You cried out, but you didn’t even know what you were begging for.

“You’re doing so good. You’re doing so good for me, milaya.” Wanda soothed you quickly and effectively, her tone soft and gentle as she let you have your feelings. The heavy hand that had been assaulting your skin for the last twenty minutes if the clock on her bedside table was accurate was suddenly soft as she rubbed soft circles on your ass, soothing the sting into a more bearable ache. “Ten more and then we can cuddle. Why don’t you let Natty’s hand go and she’ll go get you some water.”

“N-No! No! Natty stay!” You held onto her desperately, like even the suggestion of her leaving would make it come true.

“I’m staying, malyshka. I’m staying.” Natasha assured you, scooting closer to your trembling body so she could lay a hand on your naked back, her firm touch grounding you in this moment where both of your dominants were with you. “You’re okay. You’re being so good. Such a good girl. Ten more baby, think you can do that?”

You nodded albeit weakly, and Wanda took that as her sign to keep going, to get this over with so that she could put her efforts into comforting you. It was on the last spank that you had crumbled completely, going limp against the bed as you sobbed in relief. You made the decision that you never wanted to piss Wanda off to this extent again.

“Good girl. You were so good. Took your spanking so well.” Wanda helped you stand up, spinning you around so that her eyes could meet yours for the first time in half an hour.

“Mommy.” You sobbed, falling face first into her chest, clutching the fabric of her shirt in your trembling fists. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You repeated it like a mantra, sobs and sniffles the only other audible sound that you could hear. You didn’t recognize Wanda praising you for taking your punishment so well, you didn’t hear her whisper of a promise that it was over and you were forgiven. You hadn’t even realized that Natasha had promptly left the bedroom and gone down to the kitchen to retrieve water and a snack if you wanted it.

“Hey, hey. Look at me, look at Mommy.” Wanda coaxed your attention up at her, pulling your face out of the pit of darkness you had found against her chest. “You’re okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”

You nodded weakly, letting Wanda guide you into the middle of the bed and onto your belly. As promised, she rubbed the cooling lotion into your skin, mumbling soft praises beneath her breath whenever you flinched away from the contact. The soft cooling effect hadn’t taken long to set in, and when it did, it was like an immediate sense of relief had washed over your senses, though everything was still foggy and far away. You only barely recognized Natasha sitting down beside you, but you whined in protest when she tried to pull you into her side, reaching out to Wanda with a pleading look in your eyes that neither one of them could ignore.

It hurt to sit, that was putting it lightly, but you forced yourself up into a sitting position so that you could accept the bottle of water Natasha offered. She held it up to your lips as you gulped it down quickly, finishing half the bottle before she pulled it away, worried that you’d upset your stomach if you drank it all so quickly. Wanda had laid down beside you, forcing you onto her chest to alleviate the discomfort in your bottom. With your head on her chest, your legs between hers, your eyes searched for Natasha as she moved around the room, collecting pajamas and a wet washcloth that would be used to clean up the unfixed mess between your legs.

The first pass of the warm fabric between your legs had rubbed against your clit accidentally, and you moaned in pleasure that was quickly taken away. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not tonight.” She shushed your cries softly, though it didn’t make you any happier. You wiggled against Wanda at the uncomfortable feeling you weren’t used to being left with, and she didn’t try to stop you from rubbing your legs together.

“Tomorrow.” She whispered against your temple when you grew frustrated at not being able to fully satisfy the ache. “The more you move the worse it’s going to get. Mommy will take care of you tomorrow, just rest for right now. Close your eyes, detka.”

When Wanda’s finger attempted to wipe the fallen tears off your cheeks, you were quick to capture the finger between your teeth, and she didn’t even stop you. She smiled down at your flushed face, feeling more than content with your current clinginess. She knew you were down pretty far in that floaty headspace Natasha managed to ease you into every so often, and pride swelled in her chest knowing you were comfortable enough to allow her the privilege of not only seeing you this way, but making you this way.

“Ten bucks says she doesn’t leave your side tomorrow.” Natasha had hummed softly once she was sure you were asleep, only half dressed in the pajamas she had pulled out of the dresser for you. The shorts on your legs were a pair of hers, but you had been adamant against her putting the t-shirt on your body when you realized it entailed pulling away from Wanda’s chest.

Wanda rolled her eyes, though there was a fond smile on her lips that gave away her true feelings about this shift in your dynamic. Not perfect, but getting there. “I’m not making a deal, I know I’ll lose, Romanoff.”

“It’s Maximoff. Or did you forget?” Natasha quirked an auburn eyebrow, mirroring the expression Wanda had mastered after years of practice. She leaned over your body, careful not to jostle you too much and rouse you from slumber, and she kissed her wide softly, though the taste of your arousal still clung to her taste buds, and when Wanda realized, she shoved her away.

“If you keep kissing me when you taste like her I’ll never be taken seriously again.” The Sokovian warned, already addicted to the taste of your arousal, though she took punishment seriously, and it wouldn't be until the early afternoon settled overtop of Westview tomorrow when you found out just how good she is with her tongue.

#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #dom!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dom!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #wandanat #wandanat x reader #dom!wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #wandanat fluff #series: you are in love #minors dni ৎ୭

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plussizefantasia · 4 months

Text

Don't Cry Over Spilled Lemonade

Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None that I can think of, this is kinda angsty tho

A/N: Surprise post IG I wrote this in my notes app because I couldn't sleep so if there are spelling or grammar issues I'm sorry. let me know if you want a part two because I wouldn't mind continuing this.

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings. You had become a close family friend ever since you defended Daphne against some creep at her first-ever ball out in society, it was your second season and you had taken it upon yourself to keep an eye on the diamond, looking out for her quietly in the background.

You weren’t going to intervene at all, just offer her some advice woman to woman if the need arose but when you saw Baron Taylor grab the redhead by the wrist you couldn’t hold back.

Anthony himself was only seconds away from coming to his sister's aid when you ‘accidently’ tripped into the man spilling your glass of lemonade down the front of his vest.

“Perhaps my Lord if we kept our hands to ourselves certain… interventions might’ve not had to happen. Don’t you think?” When Anthony had seen your raised eyebrow and defensive posture all aimed at the scumbag who dared lay a hand on his baby sister he couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love right then and there. Not that he’d ever admit it to himself or anyone else for that matter.

A day later Daphne had invited you to tea at their family house in order to thank you for the rescue and potentially make a new friend and ally within the marriage mart.

Ever since that day, you’d been a regular in his home, but you were never there for him as much as he’d have liked you to be. No, you were always there for one of his siblings. You were there to talk with Daphne, first about her counting of the duke and then slowly transitioning into how she felt about being a married woman and then a mother. He could also find you sketching in silence next to Benedict, the two of you after attending to draw the same scene and then critiquing each other's work when you were done. You would trade books and ideas with Eloise, listen to Fran play the piano while working on your embroidery, and the scenes which would warm his heart the most, you’d come around to chase after Greg and Hyancith playing with them in the gardens and keeping a watchful eye to make sure they stayed safe.

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings, and he loathed how much of a distance there seemed to be between the two of you.

You were cold to the Viscount, you had been since the evening you came to Daphne’s rescue, he had attempted to give you his thanks and you had simply excused yourself, “My apologies my Lord but I seem to be down a glass of lemonade presently and I find myself to be quite parched, excuse me.” Your tone was cold and Anthony spent the rest of that night and the next two years trying to figure out what he possibly couldn’t done to make you so icy towards him.

“I do not understand it Ben, she is so kind and lovely to the rest of you but is like a stone wall when it comes to me, what could I be missing?”

“Perhaps she just doesn’t like you brother have you ever thought of that?” Benedict was too preoccupied with this still life to deal with his older brothers pining at the moment.

“That is not possible, I’ve done nothing but be the perfect gentleman to her.”

“Anthony I have no idea why dear Y/N does not like you but what exactly will you whining in my studio do about that?”

“I resent that. I am not whining I am simply asking my dearest brother for his advice on a matter I care very much about. I thought that was what brothers were for.”

“You want my advice, Anthony? Think. Think long and hard about what you want and how you’ll get it because Y/N has no patience for wishy-washy men.”

“That is horrible advice, Ben.”

“When then perhaps you can find better advice from your other brothers. Which will it be Anthony, the one who has been blindly in love with his best friend for years, or the ten-year-old?”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know. Now leave, that storm cloud above your head is casting shadows on my fruit.” Ben pointed his paintbrush at the bowl of fruit balanced atop a stool. Anthony huffed and knowing that it would bother his brother, he grabbed the apple off the top of the pile and took a bite of it as he strode out of the room

Ben had told him to think, but Anthony didn’t know what to think about. He knew that he craved your attention. He knew that he enjoyed seeing you around his house, interacting with the people whom he loves. He enjoyed hearing your witty comebacks and the way that even if you were not doing anything in particular you still fill the space you’re in.

He wanted her in his life, and if he was being completely honest with himself he wanted more than that.

It’s during his musing that he runs into her in the hallway, you have a book clutched within your hand, and your head is held high. You don’t stop your stride even though he knows that you saw him. He bites his lip and tampers down a smirk. Add another thing to that list of things he likes about you, you have fire, he just wished that it wasn’t always aimed at him.

“Lady, L/N which one of my dear siblings are you spending your day with today?” He attempts to match his pace with yours catching up to you so that the two of you walk shoulder and shoulder.

“Actually, Lord Bridgerton, I was having tea with your mother this afternoon she invited me over so we could discuss what to do about Frannie’s debut next season.”

This was not something that normal family friends do, you know that and he knows that. His sibling’s entrances into society are a matter which the viscountess must handle, something his mother has had to continue to do because of his lack of a wife.

“That was very kind of you to help her with.”

“Well, she doesn’t have anyone else to help her.” Your words cut him down, not for the first time.

“Lady L/N may I be frank?”

“It is your home, you may do as you please.” You turn to face him, your face a mask of indifference.

“What have I done to cross you, for the longest time I have known you you have been cold to me and I do not understand why?”

“I had figured that you did not remember, either that or you had purposely forgone trying to speak with me about it.”

“About what?”

“Our first meeting My Lord.”

“I remember our first meeting very clearly, it is one of my fondest memories seeing you stand up for Daphne and ruin Lord Taylor’s vest.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles at the memory.

“That was not the first time we met My Lord, the first time we met you snubbed me in front of the entire ton and sparked rumors that did not leave me until two seasons later.” She was harsh in her words and the tightness in her shoulder’s belayed her desire to flee.

Anthony was speechless, surely he had not? He would’ve remembered her, would’ve remembered turning down one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, intentionally or otherwise.

“I- I beg your deepest forgiveness Y/N I do not remember and if I had I would’ve tried to make it up to you tenfold by now.”

Your eyes began to gloss over and you looked at the wall beside his head, “It was my first season out, Lady Danbury’s ball, and I had seen you standing there surrounded by other gentleman. I had thought you a very fine figure and despite the rumor mill telling me you were nothing but a rake I had tried to begin a conversation. All you did was turn to me and laugh. I wasn’t asked to dance for the entire rest of that season and it was only until my Mother forced the son of one of her garden party friends to dance with me was that streak broken. You were the first and only man I had ever attempted to pursue and you laughed in my face. Were it not for my deep need to help those I see in need I would never have talked to you or any member of the Bridgerton family for the rest of my life.”

“You must know that I regret that, I regret everything I have ever done to hurt you and I will spend the rest of my days working for your forgiveness.” If Anthony was a weaker man he would’ve fallen to his knees and begged for your forgiveness until his last breath, right there in the hallways of his family’s home.

“I appreciate your words Anthony, but that’s all they are… words. I am unmarried, one year from becoming a spinster in the eyes of the entire ton, and you, you are the only one I can blame.” You don’t wait for his reply, just stalking off and wiping the tears from your eyes.

Anthony resolved himself in that moment. He would do whatever it took to make it up to you, to bring a smile to your face, and to cast away the hurt he had caused.

Part 2

#anthony bridgerton x plus size reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #x reader #fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #plus size reader #plus size!reader #drabble #requests open #requests wanted #bridgerton

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spacexdrago · 3 months

Text

Kill Me

OC: Velaryon wife! reader (your name is Anora or you can change it).

Summary: The death of Jaehaerys Targaryen

TW: CHILD MURDER, BLOOD, BLOOD AND CHESSE

Author note: Helaena is not married to Aegon. Anora is the one married to him, making her queen, she is the mother of their children. And, I add one more child to her kids.

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As the young mother, rock her youngest daughter, only 4 months old, she kept an eye on the twins, they were hard to put down while having to care for an baby.

she was rocking the baby back and forth, making the child doze off. Anora places her youngest daughter down in her cradle, she hears a creak, she turns but see nothing, so she turned her full attention on her baby, trying not to wake her with the movement.

Until she felt a cold, sharp, blade on her neck.

"Put the baby down" The very much rough tone say. he stank of ale. she wanted to say that but hold her tounge.

so she does as he says, putting her sleeping baby down.

when he started to turn her around another one came in, she thought it was a guard, and it was, but he had betrayed them.

"Who the fuck is she?"

The one who held her start to talk, "The queen, she is",he then proceed to add on, " A son for a son". Queen Anora eyes widened, understanding what they mean. they continued to talk until they didn't know which one was the boy.

"Which one is the boy?"

"No please, I have an necklace" Anora says, she was shocked they got in here.

"which?"

"Do you want money, this necklace is worth a lot, is the person behind this offering money, I can give double the amount, just don't kill my son or any of my children" She offered and begged, not wanting her boy to die so young.

"Which one, or we will kill all of your children, the baby included." As the men behind her with the blade, pushes in into her skin, drawing a little blood.

Her eyes widened at this, she didn't want for this to happen, it was like she wasn't there as she pointed to her son.

The two men smiled at each other like they just win something, the one behind her let go of her, they both start walking to her son bed, as she starts muttering ' no, no, no, no, no'.

she start crying as she went to gather her two children going for her oldest daughter, Jaehaera, pushing her head in her neck so she want see her twin death and going to get her youngest, Hyacinth, out of the cradle.

she starts to walk out of the room, as she hears her sons bone be saw through with the dagger, she starts to walk down the stairs, not seeing no one to help her, until she remembers where her best friends chambers are

As she walk through the halls, she see's Helaena chambers, as she opens the door she see Helaena, lying in bed until she sit up hearing the doors open.

her eyes widened, Helaena was shocked to see Anora here so late, and with the children. Anora walked by Helaena's bed and sat down on her floors, with her children still in her arms, as she rock back and forth.

Helaena concern, ask, "What happened."

Anora, still heartbroken, answers in a whisper, "They killed my boy."

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Hope you like it.

#house of the dragon #house of dragons #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon the second #aegon targaryen #hotd season 2 #hotd x reader #hotd fic #hotd spoilers #king aegon #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii fic #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine

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javelinbk · 1 year

Text

Here it is, Beatle People! The official 'Insane Things Paul Has Said About John' list, as created by the people of tumblr. I hope this is a useful supplement to the original McLennon iceberg

Sources under the cut:

“He was a very cool boy” (@javelinbk)

"Whenever other people do that it always reminds me of John" (@javelinbk)

"We put our names next to each other in our school exercise books" (@beatlepaul4ever)

When was Lennon at his best? "When he was asleep." (@didwemeetsomewherebefore)

"A delicious broth of a boy" (@zilabee)

"A lovely little baby, John was" (@mallowedheart)

"Daddy's room" (@pauls1967moustache)

"We’re songwriting together even if we’re not together" (@midchelle)

"John seemed like some sort of emperor in control of it all" (@blondecasino)

"I'm trying to get my son to have a son and call him Lennon, and then he'll be Lennon McCartney" (@peaceloveandstarrs)

“John and I had millions of fabulous little experiences in Paris” (@divine-sphinx)

"We used to have wanking sessions" (@merseydreams)

"You can be heterosexual and be having a homosexual dream and wake up, and think, 'Shit, am I gay?'" (@skylikeaflame)

"It was a place called Menlove Avenue. [Pauses] Someone's going to read significance into that: Paul and John on Menlove Avenue. Come onnnnnnn" (@s-l-martin)

"I slept with him a million times" (@s-l-martin)

"A wild and woolly genius who it was my pleasure to work with, walk with, talk with, and occasionally sleep with." (@didwemeetsomewherebefore)

"In bed" (@i-am-the-oyster)

"Well, I’m sure Brian was in love with John, I’m sure that’s absolutely right. I mean, everyone was in love with John; John was lovable, John was a very lovable guy." (@whenyourbirdisbroken)

"Dear friend, throw the wine, I’m in love with a friend of mine." (@heartsinthebasement)

"We got very drunk and cried about how we loved each other" (@nikidontsurf)

“Then also we were like married, so you got the bitterness. It’s not a woman scorned this time, it’s two men scorned — probably even worse. And I had to make way for Yoko. My relationship with John could not have remained as it was and Yoko feel secure.” (@thefortunateisle)

"If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and…" (@alienoriana, @majinmelmo)

"You just don’t hang around with your ex-wife" (@javelinbk)

"No, I have a lot of dreams about John, and they're always good" (@notgrungybitchin, @skylikeaflame)

"This (painting) is John’s Room. It just looked to me like John, when he had his long hair and then his cloak or whatever this is. Then I just scratched in that, looked like one of those drawings John used to do. You know his funny little men. So then I called that John’s room … If I’m gonna see a face in a painting it’s highly likely to be his." (@foryouwereinmysong)

"I wish I had sat and just hugged John all the time when we were together.’ (…) I’d just sit around and hug him forever. That’s the depth of my feeling for him" (@theoldmixer)

“Here Today - a love song to John” (@javelinbk, @bluewater9)

"So if you've got someone, you want to tell them you love them, just get it said, don't wait" (@lennon-gal)

And honourable mention for the following stories:

Stalking John all over Liverpool until Ivan officially got them introduced (@only-a-northern-soul)

‘He’s been telling himself and the whole world that nobody cared about writing songs and his music before he met John. He knew George Harrison.’ (@greatsaladavenue)

Quitting his job to commit to the band aka explicitly picking John over his father (@adriansfrombrooklyn)

Writing "Here, There, and Everywhere" by John's pool while waiting for him to wake up and write with him alone in his attic (@aint-that-kind-of-blog-bruv)

Taking the one photo of him and john from that night with the cursed pictures with jane and then blowing it up and hanging it in his office at apple (@pauls1967moustache)

Taking LSD so he could join John in his potentially bad trip (@scurator)

The time he vaulted over a table because another man was touching John and Paul had to physically intervene (@scurator)

#kind of heartbreaking seeing them all in one place #but also insane #some of these are even more insane in full context so I suggest you read the full quotes for maximum impact #paul mccartney #john lennon #john and paul #mclennon #insane quotes

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perfctvelvet · 12 days

Note

A smut involving Jenna or fem reader as a stripper or only fans star?

Down; Jenna Ortega/Fem!Reader

Content: 2nd POV. AU. Stripper!reader, teasing, Jenna gets reader off.

A/N: I had two requests for stripper!reader with jenna so I just combined them :) I think I've only wrote a strip/lapdance scene once and that was years ago so forgive me if this is little awkward!

Muse was nothing short of a poor excuse for a "high-end" private club. The floor was sticky from spilled overpriced drinks and the air was thick and muggy. Behind the branding and high-earning clientele, it was simply a strip club.

The year end company dinner started at Jenna's boss's favorite restaurant, to a bar across the street, and eventually to Muse. One by one her co-workers fell off, citing their tiredness as the reason they need to leave. In reality the crop of people that wanted to be out all night weren't the most ideal people to party with. Jenna said she would leave when her closest co-worker, Eve, decided to leave. However when it was her turn to bow out for the night, Jenna looked amongst the people she would be left with. It was nearly all of the senior-level employees of her department. Why she thought she could be one of the boys for the night, just for a small chance of career advancement, was beyond her. But she stayed. She stayed until she was front and center of a woman in sparkling lingerie that exposed her breast.

"We were surprised a girl like you could hang," one of the more obnoxious colleague nudges her side and winks at her.

Maybe this was some sort of joke on their behalf. The photo of her with her ex-girlfriend had sat on her desk for months until things came crashing down. Jenna wasn't ashamed, but her rule was to never talk about her personal life at work. That photo was the most she's ever said about the inner workings of her life and it was clear people had picked up on it.

Perverts.

Jenna is sure her colleague's wedding bands are shining under the stage lights, but no one seemed to care. It was par for the course; some wealthy, married men found their enjoyment in going to a club and seeing what they don't have.

Jenna found the women on stage to be pretty, beautiful even, but she felt out of place. She felt like everyone's eyes were on her like she had "newbie" written on her forehead. If she was with friends it would be different, possibly, but she was with men she has to turn reports into on Monday morning.

The same obnoxious guy in her office leans over and yells over the music, "you want a lap dance?"

The look on her face must've been a stupid one because he laughs at her.

"Not from me, of course. From one of the girls!"

"No, no. No thank you!"

It was then and there Jenna didn't realize what she got herself into. The men she work with don't like to hear the word "no." And when he got the others in on it, she soon found herself in a private room waiting for a "special visitor." She could've easily made a great escape the moment she entered the room, but was scared she would come face-to-face with the woman who was suppose to entertain her for the night. It made her feel guilty. Besides it might be best for her to occupy this person's time instead of one of her co-workers.

The lights dim in the room and the silhouette of a woman appears behind a curtain. Her outline giveaway that she's braless too, her nipples erect. Soft music played while the woman swayed her hips. She certainly knew what she was doing, moving her body to each sultry beat. Jenna can't deny that it is sexy to watch even if she wasn't use to this setting. Her ex had modeled lingerie for her and even gave her a drunken lap dance before, but this felt much more intense even with the curtain in the way.

She wondered what goes through the woman's head while she's doing this. Is she being a good audience member? She should clap every time the woman pauses? Can she even see her?

Her heart skips when the curtains began to draw back and you're revealed to be the woman behind them. You've seen plenty of women in the clubs (and nervous people in general), but you instantly took a liking to Jenna. She looked all cute just sitting there, clearly feeling our of place. Must've been a dare.

Jenna watches you closely as you begin to move to the music again, but she doesn't dare make eye contact with you. She's sitting so stiffly in her chair, you almost wanted to come down and shake her loose. There was nothing to be nervous about but the first timers were always a bit endearing to you.

You walk down the steps and stop right in front of her, giving her no choice but to look at you in the eyes. Her eyes are so gorgeous and she has a sweet face. It becomes more obvious to you that someone else definitely put her up to this.

"Relax," you whisper, voice lacing with the music.

Her ears perk up at the sound of your voice, as silky as the lingerie on your skin. It could be the loneliness from the break-up and missing a warm body against hers, but Jenna felt a tinge of desire for you.

She's like this with everyone. This is just her job.

Jenna listens to you and sinks into her seat. As she leans back, you lean in, turning around and sitting on her lap. Your hips swirl against her and you feel her clench her legs together. The purpose was to turn the client on, but you were enjoying this a little too much for your own professional lines. You turned your head over your shoulder to watch Jenna's face and she quickly adverted her eyes once again. You almost laughed at her reaction, but didn't want to make her nervous again.

However it was almost impossible not to make Jenna with the way you moved against her body. You leaned back and she she moved with you in the process. Your head rests on her shoulder and your arm comes around to wrap around her head. It takes everything in her not to run her hand up your body and grope your tits. The cool air made them so stiff that they begged for attention. There was a wetness that was growing between your legs that you tried to ignore, but some people turned you on so much that it drove you crazy. Jenna could feel your passion radiating off of you. You closed your eyes and let out a groan as if you were turning yourself on. It was in Jenna's instincts to do something to help you, but she remembered the setting. It was polite to keep her hands to herself, but you didn't want that. You grabbed one of her hands and placed it on your chest. Finally she seemed to give in a little and groped your flesh causing you to let out a heavy sigh.

"Baby," you moaned as if you too were intimately familiar with each other. It let Jenna play into the fantasy a little more.

She touched you like she would touch her ex-girlfriend. If she closed her eyes she could imagine that it was her. Guilt swam in her belly along with desire. All of her thoughts were in her head, so it wasn't like you had to know, but she would feel wrong for doing a pretty girl like you injustice by imagining she's thought someone else.

Jenna opens her eyes back to reality. Your exposed neck is right within reach of her lips and she takes the opporunity to just kiss your skin one time. She pauses for your reaction and feels warmth spread through her body when you moan in approval. She kisses your skin again and again until she feels comfortable enough parting her lips to suck on your skin. Now you're the one clench your legs together in search for some kind of relief.

This all escalated quickly and you know the timer is going to be up soon. The room was only booked for 30 minutes. You didn’t want things to end so soon, but just like Jenna you also had your rules about work. you felt the urge to take things farther and it was getting harder to ignore.

“Touch me here,” you say desperately.

Once again, you grab her hand and move it on your body. This time it lands in between your thighs. You spread your legs wide to give her a hint and she bravely takes it. She rubs your clit through your panties. The wetness of your arousal seeps through the material and Jenna can feel it.

“Just like that,” you sigh with pleasure.

Jenna is too stunned to speak. She didn’t expect that her night would end with her making a stripper cum. She wishes she could feel your bare, wet flesh against her skin but she wasn’t going to push her luck. She let you take control of the situation. She was like most clients who were eager to please but you liked how she touched you more so than others. She wasn’t too rough with you but used the right amount of pressure to make you pop. She sucked on your neck and rubbed you like you were precious cargo. It was possible that you were fulfilling a fantasy for her which was your job.

"Oh baby I'm gonna cum!"

The way you drag out the syllables and how it's followed by a moan makes Jenna heart beat out of her chest. She wonders if you can feel it while pressed so close against her. She can surely feel your clit pulsing under her touch. She rubs you through your orgasm as your entire body shakes. It's been so long, probably months, since someone has made you cum so hard and it was at the hands of someone who obviously has never stepped into a strip club before. It was easy to suss those ones out, and Jenna had something in her eyes that screamed naïve and you were sucked into what brought her here. She was probably put up to this, but to be bold enough to touch a stripper let alone make her cum, she was something else.

Once your movements stilled and you got off of her, Jenna looked everywhere besides into your eyes. "Uh...thank you." She scurried out of the room before you could say anything and before the allotted time for the room was up. It's unlikely she'll ever come back this place again, but this city isn't as big as many would think, and you hope that you'll be able to say 'what a small world' very soon.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega smut #f/f #f/f smut #f/f fanfic #smut #blurb #lesbian fanfic #lesbian smut #celeb smut

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night-dazai · 3 months

Text

Demons Wife

“fuck …oh my ….” full lips pulled into a smirk while sharp fangs peeked out “You even made me curse, such naughty lady aren't you, “ he said while white-gloved hands roamed your body pulling at your nipples and thrusting a finger into your wet weeping cunt.

“Seb…seabass….” you tried but nothing but strangled moans left your mouth, you had no idea how long it had been since you were in this position.

7 months into your marriage with Sebastian to save you from being a slave, you thought Ceil and his butler were kind men who had saved you and little did you know. You would sometimes question your husband's actions and behaviour, but with his gentlemanly aura you never even thought for a second he could be a devil or anything even close to evil. ”y/n we got married too soon, it might be a shock for you my dear, “ he said softly gloved hands creasing yours “Let's get to know each other and maybe one day we can consummate this marriage “ his smile angel like you could not thank god enough for such a caring and loving husband. In the 7 months, you guys would go on cafe dates and night outings cause that's when he was mostly free from his butler work. Holding hands after 2 months and kissing after 5 months broke it for you. You were sure you could give everything of yourself to him. “Sebastian, we can consummate this marriage, “ you said a month ago while you were out for a walk after dinner. His red eyes widened for a second and were soon replaced by a kind smile “Don't force yourself, love, it will be hard “ he said squeezing your hand reassuringly “But “you said stopping him “I want it to be you “You looked up dead in his eyes” I want you to take my virginity and all of me… I give it to you “ you said giving your hand to him. His red eyes looked at you quietly for a second before he got on his knees took your hands and kissed them “Your wish is my command y/n” he said smiling. You thought his eyes became darker for a second or maybe you were dreaming. But after the confession, your gentle husband made it his mission to get you accustomed to his touch, and light makeouts which left you panting for air.

“y/n I would like it if you looked at me more “ he said taking your hands which covered your tear-tainted face which was bright red. You looked up at him “Beautiful “ was all you could think but soon you pouted and turned your head to the side “No..not fair “ you said softly.

He chuckled kissing your jaw” What's not fair love ?” he asked innocently, you were sure he knew what it was. You lay naked and vulnerable on the bed while he was still fully clothed. You pulled at his shirt, chuckling at your cuteness “My my of course what is this rude behaviour of mine “ he said and moved back removing each piece of clothing with deliberate calculations and making sure you got a full show of him doing it.

“Now things are just going to get more rude “ he said pushing you back to the bed. The dimly lit room had both your shadows on the wall while some of the candles near your bed flickered a little due to the tension in the room.

That was when you noticed it fully, red eyes, fangs ready to draw blood and the smile of the devil, a shadow deep and darker than hell your husband smiled down on you creasing the side of your check “It will hurt, we have all the time so we can go slow okay “.

It was not a question, it was an order, telling you nothing will stop him. You have heard many call your wedded partner a devil and there were many questionable things that you have seen but …..” does it matter ?”.

Smiling you opened your arms wide “If you are going to hell or even if you are hell ..take me …”. That when the realisation hit you “I knew …… did not accept it “ you said “Claim me “

You did not know what effect your words had on him but his actions stopped, his dick right at your entrance while he stared into your eyes “Do…do you even know the meaning of the things you said ? What if I am a sinful being and ..not even human ?” he asked softly but there was no gentleness in it “that has nothing to do with me . You are my husband “you said still smiling like a child at a candy store.

The demon's red eyes flashed a dangerous red but collected himself he smiled, face filled with nothing but love “You surely will drive me crazy one day before that whiny master of mine does “ he said chucking and as you both were busy laughing his shaft moved right into you in one thrust.

Your back arching completely off the bed, air completely out of your lungs and eyes rolled back you held on to his shoulders for your life. Kissing your exposed neck, the devil smiled biting it, making you moan and yelp in pain and pleasure “All mine “ eyes red as fire and shadow darker than hell … The devil claimed his wife ………….

I always had a soft spot for the demon butler and also wanted one for myself ..but @chooyahh reminded me of my old lover. Thank you for that!💕

#black butler #black butler x reader #aot x black reader #sebastian michaelis smut #sebastian michaelis #sebastian x reader #sebastain stan #night dazai #sebastain x reader smut #Sebastian x female reader #sebastain michaelis x reader smut #sebastian smut #black butler season 4 #black butler x reader smut #ciel phantomhive #kuroshitsuji

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rebelliousstories · 1 month

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Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine SFW Alphabet

Relationship: Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Brief Angst

Word Count: 3,684

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Consider donating a TIP or a Kofi: Here

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Logan is a very solitary guy. He’s much more used to being on his own than with someone in any capacity. That said, I do see him as an “acts of service” kind of man. He definitely is getting you refills on your food and drink at mansion parties, and keeping an eye on the people around you. He’ll carry you to your room after a mission, or make sure that you’re not needing any medical assistance, if you are a part of the gang.

If you’re a normie, he’s holding your heels and carrying you home after a night at the bar even though he warned you not to wear them and to just go with your boots.

B = Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Sarcastic comments and playful bullying are your first love languages. I mean, people outside the friendship think you hate each other, but that’s only if they don’t look at you closer. He would always find something to tease you about, but he never let it get too mean.

If you’re an X-Men too, I believe that you guys would have been made to go on a solo mission together. You two have never been this close, so you try to pass the time, but it eventually turns into you pushing Logan’s buttons. So he gives it as good as he gets.

A normal person however, a non-mutant, I could see him just meeting you at every given chance. It’s a small town in Canada that he has decided to stay in; there’s one post office, one coffee shop, and only a couple of bars and restaurants. So yeah, he just keeps running into you, and strikes up a little conversation each time.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Oh he for sure loves to cuddle. You’re going to look at me and tell me that grumpy kitty with the fluffy hair doesn’t like to cuddle?! Oh nay, nay. This man loves it. A major reason is that he loves to make sure you’re kept happy and comfy. In Logan’s mind, the safest place you could be was in his arms.

Logan would cuddle one of two ways. He would either place you on his chest, fully laying down on him because he would love to feel your weight on him. It’s comforting to the man. Or, he would be on his side, with you in front of him. His back would be to the door, and his arms would be tucked up all around you.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

This man has proved he wants to settle down. He wants to have his little cabin in the Canadian wilderness, maybe a dog, and you and some littles. Logan would want to retire from being a superhero one day. Even though he could technically live forever, he doesn’t want to spend those days fighting. He craves having a slice of the quiet life, with someone he loves.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Cold, quick, and efficient. He would not draw it out, or withdraw from you over time. Logan would either simply leave with only the necessary items while you’re asleep or away. But if you catch him leaving, he would continue barreling towards the door, successfully shaking off your hands. He would not talk more than necessary and would only leave with one final glance before stalking off into the unknown, and away from you.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Logan loves fiercely and deeply. Not even death can shake his love for you. He would learn to live with it of course, but he would still proclaim his love for you till his dying breath. He’s a committed man to those who commit to him. To be loved by the Wolverine is a blessing and a bit of a curse. That fierce kind of love always rears it ugly head in a jealous mood if he notices you getting close to someone you shouldn’t. That being said…

If you were a mutant that had a healing factor like him, I think he would want to actually get married. Full on, with a marriage certificate, a suit and gown, and a beautiful ceremony and reception on the lawn of the mansion. Beast definitely officiates the wedding, with Charles rolling with you down the aisle. Scott makes a joke about how Logan should get married in a Canadian tuxedo rather than a traditional one. That doesn’t go over well with the man who is already reigning in his nerves about the whole ordeal. Not about marrying you, but rather the fanfare of it all.

If you do not posses a healing factor in some fashion, whether you’re a mutant who doesn’t have that, or a non-mutant, I feel like he would be hesitant to marry you. Logan wouldn’t want to tie you down to someone that will inevitably outlive you. In fact, he might encourage a break up so that you can find someone to grow old with. But, if you manage to convince him to stay, he would have no hesitation about marrying you. You have a small and intimate affair, from where Logan calls in a favor from an old friend named Charles.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s the Wolverine. It’s James Logan Howlett. That man is as soft physically as concrete wall. However, he does tend to take a softer hand to you no matter what he is doing. Logan has lived with his own enhanced strength for centuries, but he is still afraid of hurting you. He would always make sure that his hands are soft on your body, and that his claws are nowhere near you.

Now, emotionally, again it’s the Wolverine people. He is a lone wolf, that doesn’t care too much for the rules of society. But, when it is just you two, he’s letting you in on his struggle on reconnecting his past or the innermost struggle of his more animalistic side. Going back to A for Affection, Logan sends you little winks and smirks from across the bar. But his smile, his genuine smile when the two of you are alone; those are what you both cherish.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He, for sure, loves to hug you close. He’s just got those big meaty hands, and those equally beefy arms that encompass you and keep you close. It’s a safe form of intimacy for him. Even if his claws were to come out accidentally, he would probably just knick himself. There would be virtually no chance of him getting you caught between them.

Logan tries to hug you whenever he’s home from missions. The first thing he does after getting home and dropping his bags in the foyer of the mansion, is to find you so he can get his hugs that are on back order. It’s something that helps ground him as much as his hugs help to ground you.

Getting a hug from Logan is the physical feeling of putting a fleece blanket hoodie on a bear statue and walking into it. He is always warm, partially because he’s a big burly man and partially because of his mutation, and he’s hairy. So if you hug him without a shirt on, be prepared. Could make a carpet out of that body hair.

I = I Love You (How fast do they say the L-word?)

At least six to eight months, but more than likely a year. He’ll know right around the six month mark, but he’s not telling you at first. Logan would assume his acts of service and protection were enough to tell you that. He’s also waiting on you to gage how he feels about saying that word to you. You’ve gotta show him, and possibly tell him, you love him in order for him to reciprocate.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Logan really only gets jealous if he notices someone younger and attractive trying to chat you up. A major insecurity of his would be the age gap, and possibly you not living as long as him. If you had no regenerative healing factor, he might just quietly sulk in the corner of the bar as he watches.

If you do, however, he would be downing that beer first, and then moving. Logan’s not stupid enough to leave his drink unattended. Just because he can heal from just about anything, doesn’t mean he wants to. He’s pulling hands away and squaring off to anyone that dares try to get handsy with his girl. And you need to be prepared to calm down the feral Wolverine, and give him some reassurance once you get back to where you guys are staying.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

As I said, Logan loves fiercely and deeply. His kisses are no exception. He kisses you like it will be the last time he sees you forever. Logan aims to encapsulate you in a kiss, and it works a lot of the time.

He loves your lips, and forehead. Especially if you’re shorter than him. Lips for the obvious reason; it’s close, intimate, and he loves feeling yours against his. Now the forehead, is because that is what he can reach. When you’re tucked into his chest, he wants to be able to kiss you but for whatever reason he can’t, so he goes for your forehead. Also those forehead kisses just bathe you in a warming glow.

Logan loves to be kissed on his throat and knuckles. Now hear me out before you scroll away! His throat, because if you’re shorter than him, it always happens when he’s got you hugged close. So when he’s dropping kisses to your forehead, press a couple to his throat and he’s putty in your hands. As for his knuckles, it’s a dangerous game, but one that is born of a time of deep insecurities. When he is having doubts about himself, his choices, and his past, he likes to sit with you on the couch or bed and hold you. Logan is always worried about having you anywhere near where his claws come out of skin, but the little, feather light kisses you leave, well, they break his resolve just a bit.

L = Little Ones (How are they around children?)

I believe that it depends on the child’s age. If it’s a small baby, like less than two years old, he would be okay as long as he is not the one holding it. However, if you do manage to convince him to hold the infant, he is sitting there with the most scared expression he has ever had.

Kids that are a bit older and can handle their own he’s okay being around. Logan doesn’t mind the younger ones, like are seven or ten, but he tends to just watch them rather than get involved. Teenagers are the youngest he likes to interact with. He’s just not used to being around little ones, and he feels like he’s too old to start now.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Logan are blissfully spent. Whenever he gets the morning off from work or from the X-Men, he loves to spend it doing absolutely nothing. Slow mornings are spent lounging in bed, with nothing on your mind. He loves watching you sleep and be at peace. It’s a peace that he, himself, longs for. Logan enjoys being able to have slow mornings as it gives him a taste of a life he craves.

N = Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Evenings depend on how that day has been. If the day goes good, then you can expect a nice slow evening, with cuddles and kisses. Maybe falling asleep to an old black and white film on the tv, with you perched of his chest.

Now if he had a bad day, oh Lordy. Logan is going to be non-verbal and totally unwilling to be near you. For your own sake, he wants to keep a distance from you. He doesn’t want to hurt you physically or emotionally. Eventually, Logan will come to bed, but he does it after you have gone to sleep, because he just doesn’t want to deal with any questions. Not until the next day.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Logan would not be open to you at all. He’s a very closed off man that doesn’t let just anyone in. It would definitely come in stages. He would tell you what he could remember about his past over several months to years. And as he uncovers more of his past, Logan will come to terms with it before he ever tells you. He’s also a man of few words, so it will probably take him a while just to put it into words to tell you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I don’t think he gets angered easily so much as annoyed. It genuinely takes a lot to get him angered. And most of the time, he’s playfully annoyed at you. Like if you politely ask him for another drink, he’ll grumble about how you are perfectly capable of getting it yourself. However, getting him mad is something that takes a personal turn. If you attack his abilities, or legitimately degrade him, he’s getting righteously angry. Logan takes any purposeful attacks on him personally. And he knows you could do it after a while of dating, because he will have told you things that will push the right buttons in the right order.

Q = Quizzes (How much do they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Logan remembers everything. Losing his memory is a blessing in disguise, because now he can use that space for you. He truly loves every word you say, even if he doesn’t show it. Logan can often be perceived as disinterested in you whenever you’re talking. But this man got a small notebook to fill with random things you talk about, including your to go orders. There’s a section about favorites like food, color, or move. Another is there about dreams and plans for the future, and even random things.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Logan’s favorite memory is one random night in the dead of winter.

He returned home from a mission gone horribly wrong. Scott was pissing him off, Jean kept trying to tempt him into another relationship, and Storm was staying out of it on the flight home. Then, the actual contents of the mission. They had lost their target, gotten wrapped up in another one of the Brotherhood’s schemes, and overall got the snot kicked out of them. The team had enough that day. So getting home was of top priority.

Logan grabbed his bag and stalked off before anyone could get a word in on him. He wanted out of his suit and in his bed as of yesterday. Even he could feel the cold from the snow seeping into the mansion as they ascended. He was in his jeans and his usual jacket, but the boots caused the stairs to creak under his weight. As he came into the room, his heart skipped in his chest, and he leaned against the doorframe.

There you were, snuggled up in the blankets with his flannel wrapped around your body. You were even on his side of the bed with your face smooshed into his pillow. It made him swell with love and pride. But that stands out in his mind, because it was the first time that he had caught you like this. The TV was still on; you were trying to wait up for him. And that meant more than anything in the world. He would never tell you though, that he had caught you like that.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

I’m sorry, you do realize who we’re talking about right? Wolverine is going to be the most fiercely loyal and protective lover in the world. He will literally sniff out trouble around you, and keep you safe.

If you’re just dealing with someone who won’t take no for an answer at a bar or party, he’s putting a hand on your waist and glaring the person down. If they refuse to back down, he’s getting in their face and using his intimidation to make them. After that, claws are coming out, bub.

Now, on missions it’s a different story. He knows that you can take care of yourself, but it doesn’t stop him from wanting to keep you away from harm. But if Logan sees that you’re getting overwhelmed or in trouble, he’s on his way over as fast as lightning. He is dispatching of the enemy with fierce vengeance.

Logan wouldn’t need nor want you to protect him physically. That’s his job and he will stand by it. However protecting his mind and heart is the only job he wants you to have. By providing him shelter when his own mind betrays him, it protects him during a vulnerable time.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Dates really depend. If you’re an X-Man and going on missions, your date nights and anniversaries are at the liberty of whenever you are home from missions. If you’re not, he usually has an easier time of planning things for your dates. Regardless, he will usually plan casual dates nights for the most part. Every once in a while he will take you out on the town for dinner and a movie, or a night of drinking and dancing. But most of the time, he’s just having a dinner prepped or gotten take out, and a movie pulled up on the tv.

Logan loves to silently spoil you. He will never make a huge fuss about gifts he gives you. And they’re always practical in some fashion. He gets you a new coffee mug with your favorite character on it but he’s scratched your name into the bottom so no one can take it. Or a new set of personal defense weapons that won’t trigger metal detectors but still pack a punch.

Like I said before, his love language is acts of service. You need your car fixed? He’s got it purring like a lambo. You need laundry done? You’ve got new clothes in your dressers, plus some of his flannel and tank tops so you can have his clothes and scents around you. This lovable man will preform mundane tasks without being asks because he wants you to know he loves you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Going cold and silent for no good reason is a big one. It’s so easy for him to revert to his old ways but he does try to work on it. After a long day though, he just wants a beer and a silent, dreamless sleep. So, it’s difficult for him to open up and talk about whatever it is that’s bothering him on a day like this. Thus, leading to the withdrawal.

I feel like another would be his ability to overreact. If Scott asks you to join him on a mission, or even how one went that he wasn’t on, Logan is just about growling at the man. But anyone he views as a threat to you, he’s not liking one bit which tends to lead to the man to growling, snapping, and even the claws coming out.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Logan is not all too concerned with how he looks. He does his hair but that’s about it. Like, other than that, he just genuinely doesn’t care. This is a mutant with the ability to heal near instantly. I can’t reiterate how much he doesn’t care.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

The further you get into your relationship, the more he feels like he can’t live without you. It’s something he gets hit with all at once. It’s part of why he’s so protective over you, even if you have a healing factor. He’s terrified to lose you once he truly loves you deeply within his soul. When he can’t be near you, he’s counting down the minutes till he can remedy that. If he ever lost you, if you died or left him in some other way, there would be nothing left to keep the animal in check.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Logan loves you playing with his hair and pampering him. Does he understand the difference between a physical exfoliant and a chemical one? Absolutely not. But he loves having you use whatever it is on him. When his day is super rough, he’ll stay silent as he lets you lead him face down on the bed. Getting massages on those days are amazing because he swears that your hands can feel what is wrong and get it out. He’s letting you wash his face, put weird creams on him, all the while he’s got a fluffy headband on. And once you’re done with the skincare, the head massage that follows? Oh, he feels the stress of everything wash away. There is nothing that clears the rage and foul feelings better than a little pampering session.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I don’t know why, but he strikes me as a texture guy. Not on his skin, but in the food he eats. Like he won’t eat certain foods because they make odd textures in his mouth. He also just likes simple foods, so that could be a reason.

In a partner though, he wouldn’t appreciate someone trying to change him, or that would pry too deep. Let me explain. Logan knows what he is, a rehabilitated animal that tries to do his best. And he doesn’t want anyone else telling him that he isn’t. It’s not a matter of that he can’t shake the image that he spent so long with, but rather that he can still feel it inside his being every time those claws come out.

In that same vein, he doesn’t want someone that asks too many questions that he doesn’t have the answers to nor wants to give. If he wakes up from a nightmare where he uncovers new memories, he’ll decide in time to share that with you. You have to let him go at his own pace otherwise you’ll spook him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

On his back, straight as a board, blankets around his chest, while he’s alone. If you’re spending the night, he’ll either fall asleep with you on his chest with hm on his back, or with his back to the door and on his side with you in his arms. Also, I don’t care what anyone says, this man has the cutest baby snores ever. Sounding like a baby bear in bed and now it’s your own form of white noise. It’s so difficult for you to fall asleep without it.

#rebelliousstories #writing #xmen imagine #x men comics #x men movies #x men imagine #x men #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine imagine #wolverine

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whiteskullofroses · 11 months

Note

Hi! Can I pls request headcanons about being King Baldwin IV's wife? Thank you ❤️❤️

Heyyy thank you for the request ❤️ sorry this took long, enjoy!

❗THIS IS ABOUT BALDWIN IV FROM KOH, NOT THE ACTUAL HISTORICAL FIGURE❗

Baldwin IV's wife

(headcanons)

- Dear Y/N, from the day that the ring would be put on your finger and the vows spoken, you would be SPOILED. Gifts, flowers and rare bottled aromas from various civilizations all over the world would be given to you from your husband every day.

- This was because he wanted to show you how much he appreciated you and the love you have for him, but also because one of his love languages is gift giving. For example, if one day he wore a new necklace or perhaps a new pair of gloves and you complimented them, they would be yours the second after.

- He felt the love in your relationship and was aware that you'd never leave him however he was still terrified of you running away with another "better-looking" and richer man. You would oftentimes wake up in the middle of the night to find him breathing heavily and sweating because of a nightmare he had in regards to that.

- That's why reassuring him about such things plays a big role in the marriage. He is a strong and intelligent man, but sometimes his insecurities get the best of him.

- One of his love languages is also physical touch. When sitting at meetings with people of power and discussing problems, he would hold your hand under the table or put his hand on your thigh.

- He also relaxed around you even more than before, walking around without his mask, only in a veil.

- It is also important to mention that the people love you! Women look up to you and your loveliness, and men look up to your intelligence. You often receive compliments about being an amazing Queen to the people of Jerusalem, from nobles and so-called peasants.

- Your sister-in-law Sibylla ADORES you!

- Before she met you, she was filled with worry about the woman he was going to marry. She loved her brother and wanted the best for him, she wanted him to marry a woman with grace and dignity. So once you two got to know each other better, a huge weight was lifted off her chest.

- You and Baldwin would spend a lot of time together, whether that be him and you just laying in bed and talking for hours on end, or you watching him write letters for different kings and draw new ideas, admiring him silently.

- When you learned that he was French, but had never visited France you made sure that he would get to see it. You planned a trip for his birthday, which wasn't easy due to his condition however you made it work in the end.

- You made sure the best physicians in the country would accompany you throughout the journey to and through France, and once Baldwin learned of this surprise you had for him, he was over the moon.

- It was on this trip that he realized he didn't fall in love and marry just any woman, but a lifelong partner whom he could be proud of.

THE END.

#baldwin iv #baldwin iv x reader #kingdom of heaven #headcanon

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bel1ewrites · 5 months

Text

Good Luck, Babe! (Sam Carpenter x Reader)

a/n: Long time no see......... Originally this was a Wanda Maximoff fanfic, but I needed Sam in a tank top again. ps. listen to Good Luck, Babe! by Chapell Roan if you want to understand this more or watch Stardew valley female farmer x Haley edits.

Description: You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: Bar bathroom sex, bottom!reader, top!Sam, farmer!Sam, internalized homophobia, brief kissing of men :(, angst, mentions of alcohol

IT was getting difficult to keep track of the number of shots you’d gone through, each one drowning out your regrets more than the last. The bar was stuffy. It was full of sweaty bodies and slurred words, Friday night drawing most people from town to wind down from a week full of work. It was always a risk coming here, you knew that.

She frequented this bar, sipped on whiskey and laughed lightly with the other farmers at the bartop. But you didn’t care. Besides, you weren’t there for her! You weren’t. You were there to find a new boy to distract yourself with, to spend the night next to.

The martini you’d ordered sat untouched in front of you, taunting you quietly as if reading your thoughts.

“Hey there pretty lady,” a voice called from behind you, raised slightly so that you could hear him over the chatter.

You turned on your stool, eyes met with a man. They all looked the same to you: like, well, men. This one had glasses, which was a good thing you’d supposed. He was handsome enough. His hair was dark, near black, and slicked back with a thick layer of gel. The thought of running your hands through the sticky mess made your stomach churn. Not because you didn’t like man hair! You just didn’t like gel, which was a valid reason that had nothing to do with his gender.

Running a hand through your hair, you put on your best smile and lowered your eyelids -a trick as old as time-. “Hi,” you said sweetly, offering him your name. His eyes lit up, beer hanging comfortably in his hand.

The background noise grew louder, hoots coming from a number of men somewhere behind you. A mixture of, “Took you long enough!”s and “Look who decided to show up!”s grabbing your attention. You brushed it off, stayed facing away from the ruckus and tried to focus on gel boy’s words.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said smoothly, eyes running down your figure. “I’m Har-”

“Alright boys enough!” a familiar voice shot out through the room, rasped syllables filling your ears and sending shivers up your spine. You didn’t turn around, wouldn’t. Your feet stayed planted as her laugh sparked your body to life.

You thought long and hard. Thought about what to do, where to go. You should stay, there was no reason to leave. And anyways, the night was far from over. The clock behind -Harley? Hardy?- the man read half past nine. No, you would stay and have fun with Har-what’s-it and you would go home with him if he asked and you wouldn’t think about a certain farmer with black hair and impressively skilled forearms. Forearms that were sculpted from lifting and plowing and planting. Forearms that you wanted to watch move as her hands found their way-

“Um, hello?” Har-gel asked, scratching his neck with his free hand. His cheeks were tinged with a slight pink. He seemed like a sweet guy, one who would marry a sweet girl and have babies with her. A girl who wasn’t you.

You grasped the collar of his shirt, pulled him down towards you with your back pressed against the bartop. “Can we makeout?” you asked, eyes flicking down to his parted lips. They were chapped a little. You looked away from them.

He didn’t hesitate, just placed his beer on the surface behind you and boxed you in with his arms, hips pressing to yours as he moved closer between your legs.

The kiss was fine. It tasted like beer and the stubble on his chin poked yours painfully. It was fine, his tongue was in your mouth and like, that was fine you guessed. He was respectful with it, hands not venturing from their spot behind you. You waited, kissed back, went to run a hand through his hair and thought better of it. You waited some more.

After what seemed like an eon, he pulled back. His cheeks were bright red and his glasses were foggy, lips a little swollen as his breath rushed out from them. You didn’t feel much of anything besides indifference. There was a pit in your stomach, one that you ignored entirely. It was probably something everyone experienced when they kissed a man, one that was meant to be pushed aside.

“Wanna get out of here?” Har-don asked, gazing down at you with a look that was definitely meant to be attractive, and probably would’ve been if not for the shots in your system.

“Yeah!” you said, smile painfully forced, “Just let me go use the restroom really quick.” he backed up as you went to stand, digging through your purse and setting two twenties down next to your drink.

Your legs carried you to the women's room, hands fussing with the tangles he’d made in your hair. The dress you wore was one of your favorites, one that screamed summer. It was the perfect length for going out, not too short but not too long. It flowed around you as you pushed the bathroom door open, sighing with relief when you realized you were alone.

When you met your eyes in the mirror, you couldn’t help but look away. You were ashamed, you felt like a fraud. The pit in your stomach grew, so you washed your hands to distract yourself. The water was cold as it rushed out of the faucet, soothing your overheated body and disarrayed mind while you watched it hit your skin. You stood there with your hands under the water for longer than normal, not even glancing up when the door opened.

Briefly, the sounds of the bar flooded the bathroom, fading as the door swung shut. Subconsciously you reached out, pushed on the soap dispenser and watched the foam fall into your dripping hand. You just needed a minute before you went back to the sweet man with the glasses, a second to collect yourself.

“Got a lot on your mind?” a woman asked from behind you. Well, not just a woman. The woman.

The woman who you shared your secrets with, who held you when you cried and listened to you say things like, “it's just not the way I am, Sam,” after the two of you got done fucking. She was the woman who made you believe in love, who showed you how colorful the world could be.

Her hair was pulled back, a few stray pieces falling messily around her face. It was still dark, but the summer sun had brightened it up a little bit. She was clad in her work clothes, tank top tucked into her jeans, boots laced perfectly. It was easy to tell what she’d been up to the past few months, her toned arms and tanned skin hinting at long days spent on the farm. You forced your eyes away from her figure in the mirror, looking back at your hands in the water.

“Nope,” you sighed, turning the water off and drying your hands. “Just freshening up.”

She huffed out a laugh, crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t blame you,” she admitted. “I’d wash my hands after that little show too.”

You couldn’t help the heat that rushed to your cheeks, movement halting momentarily, hands frozen in brown paper towels. You hadn’t meant for her to see that, not consciously at least. You just needed to distract yourself, just needed a minute to focus on something other than her.

“If you came in here to slut shame me, I’m not in the mood,” your voice was cold, eyes catching hers in the mirror. You still hadn’t turned to face her. You couldn’t

Her brows pinched together, lips parting to say something before shutting again. Her tongue darted out the wet them. She took a step closer. “I didn’t mean- well, I did, but I’m sorry.”

You shrugged, “not like I care.” You shoved the paper towels into the trash can next to you and leaned into the mirror, running a finger under your lip to fix the smudges there. The reminder of the feeling of stubble against your chin made your stomach churn, but your face remained impassive.

You can hear Sam groan from behind you, probably pinching the bridge of her nose between her pointer and thumb. “I hate when you say that.”

“Say what?”

She took another step closer, the sound of her boots hitting the floor sending shocks to your system. “That you don’t care.”

You stayed quiet, looked at yourself in the mirror. You saw a girl, a fraud, a liar. You saw your future flash in front of you, an unhappy marriage, nothing more than some man’s wife.

She was right behind you now, close enough that you could feel her presence like a promise. She put her hand on the counter, leaned forward until you could see her face in the peripheral.

“Look at me.” she pleaded lowly, desperation in her tone. It was impossible to keep your eyes from meeting hers. She stood behind you, arms at her sides and gaze burning into you. Her body pressed into you as you leaned away from the mirror, her hands falling to your waist. “Tell me you want me to go,” she sighed, burying her face in your neck and inhaling. You couldn’t help but fall further into her.

You said nothing, your own hands moving to grasp at hers and drag them up your body until she was hugging you from behind, breathing you in and squeezing.

“Tell me to leave,” her voice was muffled in your neck, lips moving against your skin as she placed kisses there like last resorts.

You shook your head, lashes fluttering as you gave into the feeling of her again. Her eyes met yours in the mirror, hands squeezing your flesh. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you when she bit you softly, teeth digging into your jugular.

“Say you want this,” she spoke the sentence like a prayer.

You couldn’t manage the words.

“Tell me you want me,” She ordered, voice hard. Her breathing was heavy, you could feel her hands shake slightly from where they were pressed into you. “Say it or I’ll leave right now. I swear, I’ll leave and pretend you never existed.” The words were sharp and final.

All you could manage was a nod, brows drawn together in want. She moved, taking her face out of your neck and towering over you, though your height differences weren’t drastic. Her hands skated down your pelvis, landing on your hips and squeezing, pulling you into her.

“Use your words,” she pried, eyes dark and pupils blown.

You couldn’t. Your mouth was glued shut, it was impossible to say anything to her, impossible to do anything other than shake your head and squeeze her hands on your hips. You were so lost in her that you forgot all about the bar, all about the bathroom, the unlocked door. There was nothing but her. Her hands, her hair, her face, her mouth.

She moved her hand, pushing you forward with a grip on the back of your neck and folding you over the counter. Heat rushed through you, settling in the bottom of your stomach and making you close your eyes. The counter was fairly long, seemingly built for fucking on top of.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured you, her hand trailing down your back, the other still on your hip. “I’ll get you to say it.”

You let out a high pitched squeak, a mix between a whine and a sound of shock when she pulled the skirt of your dress up, pushing it past your lower back.

Her fingers ran over your skin, nails digging in as she dragged her hand lower and lower, pushing into you and leaning forward to speak in your ear. You moaned quietly, hips moving against the pressure of her still hand, seeking relief. “Would you have let him bend you over this counter,” she asked, kissing your shoulder. “What would he say if he saw this? If he saw you all desperate and needy for me, whining and begging for me to fuck you,” she looked at you, face pink and lips parted, and hummed.

When she started moving her hand you had to bite into your lip to keep quiet, so hard that you were afraid you’d bleed. Her fingertips pressed into your clit, moving in calculated circles just how you liked it. She’d always been so good at reading you, at figuring out just what made you tick, what made you need her.

“Please,” you panted when she slowed her hand, watching as she smiled menacingly from behind you before pulling the last layer of fabric down your parted legs. When she put her fingers back they were met with slick heat, the sound of her groan only making your need worse.

“Say it,” she said, running her fingers through you, feeling the way you wanted her. Her breathing stuttered when you let out a needy sound, her fingers pressing tight circles right where she knew you wanted them. It was too slow, you needed more.

You suppressed a moan, covering your mouth with your hand.

“You used to be so good for me,” she pouted, pulling your hand away from your mouth and holding it behind your back with her free one. “What happened?”

Without warning, she slid two fingers into you, pulling a deep moan from you, too loud for a public bathroom. Her fingers pushed down, finding the spot that only she knew before you could even comprehend it. She fucked you like she meant it, hard thrusts powered by months of pent up need. It was scary how fast she was able to build you up, how fast she got you panting and begging.

“Fuck,” you whined, straining your neck to look back at her for the first time, as opposed to her reflection in the mirror.

“Face forward,” she ordered, pounding into you harder, “look at how pretty you are, taking me like this. Tell me you want this, baby.” Her voice was dripping with need, the steady rhythm of her thrusts hauling you closer.

“Harder,” you groaned, pushing back into her and leaning up on your free arm. The fabric of your dress rubbed against your skin where it lay, the sensation was so dirty. You were being fucked over a bathroom sink, watching yourself get more and more pathetic as your ex buried her fingers in you.

Her thrusts grew softer, slower, enragingly delicate. “Say you fucking want me.” Her words were a stark contrast against the way she fucked you, the way she drew it out.

“Please, please Sam. I need it.” your mouth dropped open, little sounds flowing from it as she sped up again, fucking you just how she knew you liked it. Your eyes were closing of their own accord, struggling to stay open and watch as her muscles moved while she fucked you against a bar sink.

“Good girl,” she smiled, letting go of your hand to rub your clit again. You almost fell as the pressure inside of you skyrocketed, becoming almost unbearable. “Now tell me who you belong to.”

You couldn’t comprehend her words, too focused on the orgasm that was quickly approaching, preparing your body for the shock of it. “I’m so close, baby, I’m so close. Just like that.”

Your cunt was throbbing with need, finally reunited with the person who knew you the best. All those months of fucking yourself would never amount to the way Sam did. The way she commanded your entire being.

She stopped moving. All movement stopped. Her hands, her body, her mouth. You almost cried as her fingers stilled inside of you. The orgasm rushed away, dissolving into painful pleasure and disappointment.

“No, no. Why did you stop? Sam, why?”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

“Wha-” she started moving again, slowly rubbing a spot deep inside of you. You sucked in a breath. You were so turned on it hurt, wetness running down your thighs.

“Say it,” she stressed, fingers moving on your clit again, your orgasm sparked back to life, slowly building again. The longer you waited the faster she went, working you back up until you were on the edge, one move away from cumming.

“I’ll stop again and walk out of this goddamn bathroom so fast,” she growled over your moans. It was so hard to focus, you needed her so bad you couldn't breathe. "Who do you belong to? Who else fucks you like this?"

“You,” you choked out through a whine. Her thrusts sped up. You pulled her in with no resistance, clenching around her fingers and dripping with need “You. I belong to you, I’m yours. No one fucks me like you do, no one touches me like you do. Please let me cum Sam, please.”

The world seemed to pause when she leaned into you, kissing your neck and fucking you like you earned it. She was giving you all of herself, showing you who you belonged to and who you needed. Your brain was foggy, no sound came out of you as you came, cheek pressed against the counter and hands clenching into fists. Your elbow had given out, leaving you arched into the bar sink.

"That's it," Sam cooed, slowing down to fuck you through the wave of your orgasm, "You're so pretty."

Shock after shock hit, each one leaving you shaking even as she rested unmoving inside of you. "You did so good."

Your whole body was on fire, throbbing and twitching as you worked through it, Sam whispering praise in your ear.

She kissed your cheek, a sound of protest leaving you when she pulled her fingers out of you. You stayed still, your body moving with the force of your breaths.

"I locked the door when I came in," Sam smiled, rubbing your back soothingly.

You would ask her later, when you regained your ability to speak, how she knew to lock it. You would ask why she followed you, why she cared after you left her like she meant nothing. But for that moment, all you could do was lay there and listen to her love you.

#wlw #sapphic #lesbian #chapell roan #samantha carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #scream #screamxi #scream au #lesbianism #melissa barrera

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klaus-littlestwolf · 1 year

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Hiii! I was wondering if u could do a royalty au with the yandere Mikaelsons! It can either be human or vampire but like image THE AESTHETICS OF IT!! And can u somehow include rebekah as well!! I can leave the rest of the plot up to u or if u want I can also send ideas :)

I Don’t Want a Crown -Klaus M.

For something like this I could see going vampire but no, I’m going human on this. I’m excited to try it out!

Part 2

Your father thought it was an insult.

You were your fathers youngest daughter, the only one currently unmarried as he had married off your sisters already to make necessary alliances. The Mikaelson family was a very powerful ally, they were close with the king and queen but your father only wanted you to be married to the eldest, Elijah. Elijah however is already betrothed.

Elijah was happy to marry you to his younger brother, Niklaus, who you hadn’t met but you had heard some truly horrific stories of him beheading and gutting his enemies.

Your father dismissed you so that he could talk to Elijah alone and you happily exited the stuffy room, exploring the castle before making your way outside. You were enjoying the overcast sky before coming across a man leaning against a tree and seemingly sketching something in a book. You paused as you walked passed him to look and see him drawing an image of your horse that was by the stables.

‘That’s very good…are you an artist or something?’ You questioned and he paused to look down at you before smiling.

‘Or something, it’s a nice hobby. I’m glad you like it. I’m Nik, lovely to meet you.’ He took your hand, kissing your knuckle softly and bowing as he did which made you smile. Many men that greeted you didn’t think they had to bow to anyone but your parents, this man was a stranger and showing you more respect than your regular suitors.

‘I’m Y/n, it’s a pleasure. Well, I’m sorry to have bothered you Nik.’ You turned to walk away when he quickly fell into step beside you.

‘I can’t leave a beautiful girl to walk alone now can I? What kind of a man would I be?’ He held out his arm and you took it as you walked through the gardens. ‘So, why are you taking a stroll alone on such a dreary day?’

‘Oh I love days like these, and I love walking in the rain…much to my fathers dismay but that somehow makes it better.’ You teased and he seemed to like it. ‘Rainy days are the best kind. And I suppose I needed to get away. My father has been trying to marry me off to some rich family, though which one is anyone’s guess. It’s exhausting meeting potential husbands every day, and not one of them actually interested in meeting me. Just my father because it’s his choice and I will do what I’m told. Then I’ll get married to a man who is cold and cruel and just as happy to make me do what I’m told. I’m not ignorant enough to think I should be free to fall in love, the world isn’t that kind but shouldn’t we at least like each other? I don’t want to become my sister, married to a man who beats her with only the intention of filling her with a son…and now I’m ranting my problems to a stranger who only asked about the weather. I’m so sorry Nik-‘

‘I asked why you were walking, you answered. And I don’t think it’s an outrageous request to want to get along or a husband who will not beat you. A man should respect his wife, she is the one who will raise his children and give him a happy home to come back to every day, warm his bed yes but that should be more than one sided as well.’ You tried to hide your blush at the topic but he definitely noticed. ‘You’re a lovely women. You should be taken care of, and regardless of what a man is like with other men he should be a gentleman with his family. I’m sure your husband will prove to be a good man, at least to you.’ You smiled at that, his optimism being refreshing.

‘It’s a nice sentiment, though the man my father is meeting with now is trying to marry me off to an apparent madman. Of course those are just rumors, everyone deserves a fair chance.’ He looked stunned by your words as you sat yourself on the rock wall overlooking the ocean. It’s where you came to read often, it was peaceful and you loved watching the waves when it stormed.

‘You have a refreshing outlook on life. I like how sweet you are Y/n. Any man should be honored to have you, I know I would be.’ He sat beside you, kissing your hand once again, his blue eyes being the kind you want to get lost in for hours.

‘Well, I’m an optimist I guess. Besides, it’s not just him that’s a possibility. My father is meeting with someone else today, I suppose he feels slighted that I’ve been offered a second son, dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life but my father is nothing if not sensitive.’ You joked and while he laughed he looked…angry? He hid it quickly before standing and holding out his hand.

‘We should get you inside, it’s going to rain any second Princess.’ He walked you back to the castle in silence and while it wasn’t uncomfortable, you felt the need to ask as you got inside.

‘Have I offended you? If I have, you have my sincerest apologies my Lord, I don’t-‘

‘Nonsense! You have done nothing of the sort.’ He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and the way he looked at you was so…heavy. ‘Now, you go get yourself warmed up and dressed for dinner. I’m sure I will see you again in a bit.’ With that he bowed and was gone, leaving you to realize how late it really was and rush to get ready for dinner.

When you arrived you were greeted by your mother as your father spoke to a man who must be in his early 40s. Very close to his age at least. ‘Y/n, your father has invited both of your suitors, Lord Aslan and Lord Mikaelson to dinner tonight. He would like to speak with both of them freely and see which is the best match, please be on your best behavior?’ Your mother begged.

‘Please tell me that old man is my suitors father?’ Your mother looked at you with hard eyes and you knew to shut up as you all sat down to eat.

‘Should we wait for the Mikaelson’s?’ Your mother asked and father rolled his eyes.

‘Can’t even be on time for a potential alliance. How disgraceful.’ Lord Aslan spoke and now you rolled your eyes.

‘Apologies my Lord, my brother has had to leave, our sister is having a bit of trouble. I’m sorry for my tardiness.’ You know that voice.

‘We can understand that. Young women are a handful, I should know, my wife gave me 5.’ Everyone knows your father hates that your mother gave him so many girls before a boy but he still brings it up. You looked up to see Nik sitting in the chair across from you and smiled politely, but you’re sure he could see it didn’t reach your eyes. ‘Gentlemen, this is my daughter Y/n.’ You waved politely, Nik smiling while the man beside your father leered at you.

‘The pleasure is mine Princess.’ Lord Mikaelson greeted, the other man laughing suddenly and gaining everyone’s attention.

‘She’s not a Princess. A Lady, maybe, and a lovely one at that.’ You cringed, taking a drink from your cup and trying to ignore his eyes on you.

‘Every women should be treated as a Princess by her husband. Do you not agree my Lord? I’ve met many Princesses, they don’t hold a candle to you Darling.’ The blush is back and this time you can’t even pretend to hide it.

‘Thank you my Lord, you are sweet.’

The rest of dinner was your father speaking to Lord Aslan while he leered at you and you spoke to Nik back and forth, finding the rumors about him to be insane. He couldn’t hurt a fly. Or so you thought.

After they had left and you were getting ready for bed your father knocked on your door, letting himself in with a stern look on his face. ‘You behaved very rudely at dinner. You didn’t once try to speak to Lord Aslan.’

‘He was staring at my chest all night and he didn’t speak to me either, just you. He wants me to be his wife and doesn’t even want to know anything about me? No thank you. Besides, I loved speaking with Niklaus, he was sweet and he wanted to know me. I would much rather-‘ you were about to finish when your father cut you off with a hand around your throat, eyes angry and determined.

‘You think I care what you want? Your opinion means nothing to me child, it’s the men that matter and I will not be offended by being offered a second son for my youngest girl. I’m being given land and an army by Lord Aslan, plus a dowry that is worth much more than you. You’ll make yourself happy where ever I put you like a good daughter and a good wife! You are set to marry Lord Aslan in a fort night. That is all I will hear on the matter.’ When he stopped speaking he finally allowed you to breathe, pulling his hand away and watching you collapse to the floor, gasping for air. ‘Sleep daughter. You have lunch with your husband tomorrow and you must be presentable.’ With that he was gone and you were left alone to change into your night gown, holding a cold compress to the quickly forming bruises on your throat.

You were in too much pain to relax and sleep, every time you moved your neck or swallowed pain shot through your throat and didn’t leave you with the ability to get comfortable. You had finally given up trying and ended up on the loveseat with a book and an inability to stop the tears despite your pain. You were going to spend the rest of your life with a man who doesn’t care for you at all. Niklaus would move on and find a new wife, some lucky girl to have a good husband and a good life and you hate her. You were trying to calm yourself when you heard a knock on your French doors making you look up before it happened again. Quickly you wiped your face before moving to the doors to see a familiar face, waving casually.

‘What are you doing?’ You asked, opening the doors and allowing him to slip in and watching as he looked around your plain room.

‘I am to be your husband, I’m allowed to see my wife, aren’t I? I want to get to know you better before-we…why are you crying?’ You quickly wiped your face again and he stopped you, taking your hands in his and brushing the tears away.

‘Niklaus, you have to go. You can’t be here-‘

‘I will not have you cry, why are you upset, I can-‘

‘You can’t fix it! You are not going to be my husband! I told you, I’m not going to be married to a second son and what I want doesn’t matter! You need to leave, please? You’ll be killed if you’re found in here!’ You pushed at his chest but he didn’t budge, pulling you close and tilting your head up, inspecting the bruises on your neck gently. ‘My Lord-‘

‘Husband.’ He cut you off, clearly angry but not acting on it. ‘I’m sorry if you got confused Princess, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, your father seems to want to irritate me. There was no chance of any other man marrying you, I have already decided that you’re mine. You are not to worry about that, do you understand?’ He asked it so softly you felt like you were dreaming.

‘But my father-‘

‘Do. You. Understand?’ His eyes were a stormy blue, like a raging sea, impossible to tame but he never once made you feel like you were in danger with him.

‘I understand. But my father will never agree. He’s stubborn and cruel-‘

‘You haven’t seen cruel Princess…and you never will. I promise you that. And this-‘ he touched your neck softly, his eyes hardening when he looked at the bruises. ‘This will never happen to you again. Not in this lifetime, you are my wife, my Princess to protect and no one will ever harm you. No one will get close enough to try. Tomorrow you’ll go about your day like normal and not speak a word of this, then you will get the news that you are being married to me. Now come, Princess’ need sleep.’ He suddenly lifted you into his arms and carried you to your bed, tucking you into the blankets and holding your hand.

‘I can’t sleep. My neck hurts and I-‘

‘Shh.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle, reaching up to open your mouth and you didn’t fight him as he pored it onto your tongue, making you swallow. ‘Now relax, you’ll sleep just fine my darling. Don’t you worry about that.’ He pressed your hand to his face, kissing your palm and sighing, his stubble scratching your hand roughly. As he began standing your eyes fell, heavy with sleep and you felt a kiss on your cheek before you fell asleep.

You slept well into the next day and you were awoken by a maid just before lunch, helping you into a dress that covered the marks on your neck. You went to the gardens for your lunch but Lord Aslan never showed up.

Your father was furious for the rest of the day and you didn’t see him at dinner but your mother told you that he was in a meeting. Walking back to your bedroom that night you turned to see familiar blue eyes looking down at you, waiting outside your door. ‘Nik?’

‘Hello my darling wife.’ He pulled you close to his chest and into your room, the door shutting behind him. ‘Our wedding will be held in 2 days time, everything is being taken care of, you won’t have to lift one little finger. I want you to have the best wedding day ever.’

You pulled back, looking up at him confused. ‘I’m engaged already, he told me-‘

‘Your father is an idiot, and he knew not to cross me yet he did so anyway after finding out that I wanted you as my wife. That’s his problem. The other…I hesitate to call him a man, isn’t an issue anymore. He was found dead in his home this morning for looking at things that didn’t belong to him.’ You stared up at him in shock, not sure what to do. ‘I told you, I like how sweet you are and any man should feel honored to have you. I do, and I always will. I will protect my sweet girl until my dying day, and not once will your innocent eyes be forced to see anything even resembling violent. I know I’m not the best man, but I will take care of you love, and I will love you for the rest of eternity…do you want to be mine?’

You didn’t know what to say to that. ‘I’m already yours-‘

‘I will see to it that you live like a nun for the rest of your life if that’s what you choose, but I would much prefer you be mine. I love you Y/n, but it’s your choice.’ His honesty spoke volumes and I nodded my head without hesitation.

‘Yes. I want to be your wife…I love you too Nik.’

Klaus was the best husband she could have ever dreamed of and he was true to his word, she never saw any violence…even when she ordered it.

I Don’t Want a Crown Moodboard

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