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cyberslvts · 17 days

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (7/?)

Part summary: Six weeks later, Leigh decides to throw herself a birthday party.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.600+ | Warnings : None | Author's Note: Just a reminder that this doesn't strictly follow canon events. Borrowed some elements from the actual birthday episode, but it's going to go very differently for us :) Enjoy!

Six weeks later

“Hey! Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Leigh’s mom calls out from the kitchen as Leigh hurries down the stairs. She runs straight into Amy’s arms, a ball of energy, drawing bewildered looks from her mom and sister. Ever since Matt died, they are used to Leigh either being too quiet or too snarky. Today, of all days, they were expecting her to be something else much worse. But it seems they're mistaken as Leigh turns to Jules, yanks her in close, and kisses her hair.

Jules and Amy share a look. To say this as an interesting development would be an understatement. It's her birthday—her first one without Matt, who had been at the heart of her celebrations for the last decade. They hope Leigh finds some happiness, truly, but these past several months have taught them to temper their expectations.

They keep their silent exchange to themselves, watching as Leigh picks up a croissant and takes a heart bite out of it, her face lit up with the widest smile. “Happy birthday,” Jules grins, pushing a small envelope towards Leigh. “Got something for you.”

“Thank you!” Leigh exclaims. She eagerly opens the envelope to find a bunch of homemade coupons, each promising some sort of favor from Jules, good for the next year. They range from “Will listen to your rants for 30 minutes, no interruptions” to “I will restart the book club you tried to get me and mom to do and actually read the books this time.”

Laughing, Leigh flips through them. “These are brilliant, Jules. Might have to use one today,” she says, already thinking about which one she'll cash in first. Then, she pulls Jules in a bear hug, as if it’s the most exquisite present she’s ever gotten in her lifetime.

“You okay?” Leigh asks when she notices Amy staring at her.

Jules gives their mom a warning look as Amy struggles to come up with a response. “Nothing, I just… I didn’t think you’d be doing quite so well today. That’s all.”

“I didn’t either but we all make choices and I’m choosing to have a great birthday. So, let’s do this thing!” Leigh says in a manner that Jules feels too over the top. Amy starts laying out the plans for the evening and Leigh has a blank look by the time she finishes running them through it.

“I think I want a party,” Leigh announces. It’s met with astonishment, as if it’s the last thing her family’s expecting to hear.

“You do?” Amy.

“A party?” Jules.

Leigh isn’t perturbed by their reactions. “I do. I want a party,” she confirms. She delights at the dumb look on their faces as she reiterates, “Tonight. I want a big party.”

“You’re not having a big party.”

Danny calls her up the minute he gets her Facebook invite. He's partly furious about receiving the invite through Facebook, given that they’re “kind of seeing each other”, and partly incredulous because he couldn’t believe she’s making plans on her birthday without considering the fact that they are “kind of seeing each other”.

Leigh, phone wedged between her shoulder and ear as she flips through a recipe book on her kitchen counter, rolls her eyes so hard she worries they might stick that way.

“Well, yes, Danny, that's exactly what I'm doing,” she fires back matter-of-factly.

Danny's frustration simmers on the other end of the line. He had already made plans, not bothering to consult Leigh because he assumed that their day would be spent together—privately, just the two of them.

“You didn’t think I’d have something planned?” he asks, more hurt than angry.

“Why would I think that?”

“Because we’re dating, Leigh,” he says, appalled that he needs to remind her. Leigh takes a second, biting her lip. Maybe it was a bit inconsiderate that she didn’t consider Danny when she impulsively decided she wanted a big celebration. But that flicker of guilt is short lived.

After all, she couldn’t remember the last time she’s actually excited for something, the last time she thought, I deserve to be happy.

“Yeah, well, I can still do what I want, Danny,” she retorts.

“Now you’re acting like a child,” he snaps.

Leigh feels a flash of anger, then something else—determination. “Maybe so. Come to the party or not, I don’t care. I'm going to have fun, Danny, with or without you.”

“Fine. Just don’t—”

Leigh doesn’t let him finish. With a press of a button, the call ends, his words cut off mid-sentence. Too often, she’s been criticized for not always following through with her declarations, but it's a different game when she's out to prove something.

Drew steps carefully around a minefield of clothes and makeup scattered on the floor to get to Leigh. She's curled up over her laptop, one leg propped on the chair, chin on her knee, in a posture that makes Drew wince. “For a fitness instructor, you're not exactly a poster child for back health,” he says, announcing himself to his best friend.

Leigh's head snaps up at Drew's voice, but instead of annoyance, a smirk quickly spreads across her face. “Good thing I'm not a fitness instructor anymore, then,” she says. Then she turns her attention back to her laptop as if he’s not there. Drew moves to sit on the edge of her bed, flops down on it like a ragdoll and stares at the cobwebs on the corners of the ceiling.

“I know what you’ve been doing, Leigh,” he says.

Leigh is unphased, keeps typing. Then, as if she’s just heard his remark, mutters a distracted, “What have I been doing?”

“Avoiding. You've been avoiding writing about anything that's even remotely related to love or grief,” Drew says.

This time, Leigh stops typing. She sighs, a long, drawn-out exhale that seems to carry the weight of the world. “I’m busy, Drew. This gig is eating up all my time.”

After leaving the Beautiful Beast, she took on a part-time job as a remote project manager. With Matt gone, she's left to deal with the debts they racked up together. She loved her studio job, really did, and wasn't fazed by the slim paycheck because it helped her mom out. Being surrounded by family has been a huge support (despite her occasional squabbles with Jules), but she knows she'll need to move out on her own again at some point. Ultimately, the pressing need for financial stability has pushed her to seek out better-paying opportunities.

Drew straightens up, leaning in with his elbows on his knees. “Bullshit.”

Leigh looks over her shoulder at him with mild irritation. “What do you want me to say, Drew?”

“You're meeting your weekly quota on other topics,” he points out. “Makes me wonder if bringing you back to the advice column was…premature.”

It sounds like a threat, but coming from him, she understands it as an early warning in case the senior editor begins to notice the issue. Leigh smiles thinly, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why does it even matter which topics I choose to engage with? First off, I'm collaborating with other writers now; it's not entirely my show anymore. Secondly, I've been doing a good job—”

“A great job, actually.”

Leigh tilts her head, genuinely puzzled. “So, what's the problem?”

“They're expecting you to lead on those topics because you've lived through them. They're looking for more authenticity in the pieces,” Drew explains.

Leigh looks out the window, seemingly lost in thought, then shakes her head slightly. “What, you want me to write about how I started picking fights left and right after Matt died? Do you want me to detail my attempts at fixing his depression, as if it were as manageable as setting a broken bone?”

“You don’t have to delve into the most personal details.”

“It can’t be authentic if it’s not personal,” Leigh sneers.

“Just think about it, okay?” Drew presses, a little desperately.

Leigh chews on the inside of her cheek, mulling it over. There's a whole part of her story she hasn't even touched on with him—the string of one-night stands with Danny, the way she's snapped at anyone who dared to disagree with her in the past few weeks. She's been on edge, not really liking the person she's been, and the thought of putting that version of herself out there for everyone to see is nothing short of humiliating.

As a writer, she knows what to say, the same way a psychologist would know what to do even if they don’t need to have all sorts of human experience to help someone in every situation. But she also questions her right to preach behavior to others when she's far from having it all figured out herself. Regardless of her indecision, she knows Drew’s not going to drop it until she at least tells him she’ll consider.

“Fine,” she says, with a nod. “I'll sift through the inbox and tackle the ones I feel up to.”

“There you go, that's my girl,” Drew says, visibly relaxing. But then, a moment later, he feels a stab of guilt for showing up mostly because of work. It's been a while since they've hung out, their usual brunch dates falling through one after the other, and their daily chats have shriveled up to a few messages a week, with mostly just memes from Leigh that Drew hardly ever acknowledges. Eventually, Leigh just stopped sending them.

Drew fidgets, avoiding eye contact for a second before it dawns on him—he hasn't just been busy; he's been dodging Leigh on purpose ever since he popped the question to his partner. He was worried Leigh wouldn’t take the news well, considering the things she’s been going through. But if he’s being brutally honest with himself, a part of him just didn't want her grief to dampen his excitement. He was worried her sadness might dampen his spirits, and in a bid to preserve his own happiness, he’d left her out in the cold. He hadn't stopped to think that maybe he owed Leigh more than just her column.

“So, uh, how’s it going?” Drew asks cautiously.

“It’s going,” Leigh offers. Heartfelt talks aren't their thing, so Leigh decides to brush it off fast. “By the way, I'm throwing a birthday party for myself.” It comes out a bit more cheerfully than she feels.

“A party? That's great, Leigh!” Drew exclaims. “And hey, if you need help setting up or anything, just let me know.”

“Yeah,” she forces a smile, not as enthusiastic as she was about the idea at breakfast. “It's tonight, though. You're coming, right? And bring anyone fun you know.”

“Wow, OK,” Drew nods before his face morphs into a grin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, is this where you're planning to hard launch your new relationship? At your party?”

Leigh’s eyes sharpen into slits. “You know about Danny?”

“Jules told me,” he says.

Rolling her eyes, Leigh retorts, “Let me guess, she told you so you'd join the haters club?”

“Nah,” Drew shrugs, his smile bright and sunny. “Danny's okay, I guess. If you're happy, I'm happy.”

She hasn’t been not happy lately. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but it sure beats being on her own. So maybe she is—or at least, on her way.

“Thanks, Drew,” she murmurs thoughtfully.

Drew makes himself comfy, chin in hand, looking like he's all set for one of their marathon catch-ups. "So, how did you and Danny even start? Tell me everything."

Leigh's trunk is a one-can band, banging and clanging with every turn. Her groceries create a beat, something to fill in the lack of sound in her car. It’s how she drives these days—in utter silence. Before, she wouldn't even think of heading out without the perfect playlist, which often took her an extra five to fifteen minutes after settling into the driver's seat. But these days, as soon as the key is in the ignition, she twists it and takes off, not even waiting for the car to warm up.

Organizing a party by herself (with Jules' indispensable assistance, of course) and extending invites to her entire Facebook friends list has turned into quite the ruse. She's seasoned enough to temper her expectations—knowing well that not everyone who RSVP'd “yes” will show, and that some who didn't bother to RSVP might just surprise her by showing up. So, she's stocked up on as much food as her sedan can hold.

While Leigh's mind wanders to what snacks to whip up and what sauces to pair them with, she accidentally ends up on a lane that forces a left turn instead of going straight. This little misstep means she's got to take the scenic route home, which, by pure coincidence, takes her right past your clinic's street.

Her heartbeat quickens, though it shouldn't. There's no reason for it. She hasn't seen you in a month, not since the night she made a bold declaration on her bedroom door.

Leigh never planned on actually liking you as a person. Initially, her motive was purely to get a closer look, to dissect what it was about you that caught Matt's eye, what you possessed that she lacked. However, the answer to that mystery didn't remain elusive for long after spending a little time with you. You had this kindness about you, soft and easy, something Leigh’s always found just out of her reach. She prides herself on being decent enough but next to you, she feels a bit more like sandpaper to your silk.

Matt was like that too—gentle, easygoing. Leigh is well aware of her own rough edges, her sharp corners that don't quite align with Matt's smoother ones—and, by extension, yours. You and Matt had more in common than just interests; you both saw and reacted to the world in similar ways. Finding out that you and Matt were alike in important ways, in ways she wasn't, is something she's still learning to cope with.

As she nears your clinic, her eyes instinctively search it out, a habit she can't seem to break.

This time, her timing is impeccable; just as she glides by, you step outside with a puppy in your arms, licking your face all over. You catch sight of her car from a distance, and you couldn’t stop the surprise that flashes across your face. As she drives past, you give her a little wave, puppy still in tow. Leigh cracks a small smile, then throws on her aviators, maybe trying to hide a bit more than her eyes. She sneaks one last look in the rearview, catching you watching her car disappear down the street before you head back into the clinic.

As soon as she gets home and is safely out of the car, she opens her messages.

The last text you sent her says, “I'm sorry. I hope we can still be friends,” sent three days after the encounter in her bedroom. She didn't respond to it, and you didn't push any further or impose yourself on her.

She wishes she had at least reacted with a heart or sent a smiley face to your message. Maybe then, inviting you to her party tonight wouldn’t feel so awkward. Nevertheless, she manages to type out a quick invite and extends to you the courtesy of bringing a plus one, someone you believe would be good company.

Your response arrives within five seconds of her hitting send.

“Thank you, I'll be sure to drop by :)” - Y/N

Satisfied, Leigh sets her phone aside. Now, she can focus on making those Deviled eggs.

The dress she's pulled from Jules's closet is a bold choice: deep black with a plunging neckline and a hem that flirts with daring. It's sexy, but not quite Leigh's usual style—and that's exactly why she loves it. It clings to her in all the right places, promising a confidence that Leigh isn't entirely sure she feels. Her hair, which is normally pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, hangs loose and wavy. She tops off her outfit with a slick of red lipstick and layers of dark eyeliner.

With about an hour to spare before her guests are due to arrive, Leigh decides it's the perfect time to follow through on a promise she made to Drew. She logs into the shared inbox of the advice column she co-manages with two other writers at Basically News. Leigh scrolls through the submissions, Drew’s words playing on repeat in her head. He had a point. Maybe people don't always need the right answers—answers she hardly uses herself. Perhaps what they really need is someone to affirm what they're already feeling, to say it's okay to follow their gut, to be themselves.

She reads an interesting entry from one EspressoEyes:

“Do you think it's too much for me to give a puppy to this woman I like? I'm not even sure she likes me back (or like me in general 😣), but it's her birthday, and I feel like a puppy could be exactly what she needs at this moment.”

Leigh reads the message, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. Personally, she muses, she'd welcome a puppy from just about anyone. But that's just her, especially with the rollercoaster of a year she's had—she's at a point where the gesture, no matter who it comes from, would be a welcome slice of joy.

Thinking it over, she starts replying, “A puppy is a big gesture—it can be an overwhelming gift for some. It might even be seen as too forward, especially in certain relationships.Yet, a gift is a gift. Sometimes, you need to just go for it, without apologies. If her feelings don't align, she'll let you know. She has to, because giving a puppy is essentially a love declaration, in case you hadn't realized. And who knows? She might feel the same about you. Just make sure she's actually up for the responsibility of a pet. They're for life, not just for birthdays.”

She signs off with her pen name—Gigi Herrel—a clever anagram of her name as it would have been had she taken Matt's last name in marriage: Leigh Greer. Though it never quite felt like her own. She only used it when she came back to Basically News in obeisance to his passing. Drew has granted her the autonomy to publish her responses without his oversight (“Just make sure your grammar is perfect,” he said), so Leigh doesn’t think twice before publishing her response.

Leigh moves on to browse through other submissions, this time, on those related to marriage and loss—the very subjects she promised Drew she would tackle. She’s been in those shoes, still feels like she's wearing them. With a deep breath, she clicks on one and dives right into it. Her first attempt at a response feels inadequate, prompting her to hit delete and start anew. This process repeats itself, one draft after another, until she has five versions sitting in front of her, none of which feel right. With a huff, she deletes them all.

Just then the doorbell rings, pulling her out of her advice-column vortex. Leigh glances around, momentarily disoriented. It takes her a moment to recall that there's a party happening downstairs, and she's meant to be enjoying herself.

She’s halfway down the stairs when Jules's eyes land on her. Leigh freezes, as if she’s been caught red-handed. “I…couldn’t find the coupon for borrowing your clothes.”

Jules just smirks and arches an eyebrow, taking in Leigh in her dress. “Oh please, as if I ever keep track. Besides, that was just gathering dust after my ‘slutty Halloween phase’ as you so lovingly called it.”

“Cool! Perfect!” Leigh says, ignoring the backhanded comment. Her focus immediately turns to the front door as another guest arrives. “Hey, Dad!” she calls out.

Leigh’s dad walks in with his partner, and she greets them with a warmth that's been rare these days. He hands her a large, beautifully wrapped box. Leigh grasps the gift with both hands, shaking it gently, much like a child on Christmas morning. She’s thanking them when an old friend from high school she hasn’t seen in forever walks through the door, a bottle of wine in hand. Her mom swoops in like a hawk, reminding everyone it's a dry party in support of Jules's sobriety, and the wine is swiftly traded for a mocktail.

For the next hour, the house fills up. Leigh finds herself out back, tending to snacks, when a small line of people forms to chat with her. They each ask if she’s doing okay, their condolences tucked neatly between cheerful birthday wishes. Leigh’s smiling, but it's so fake even she is not buying it, mentally blacklisting half of these people for next time.

Just when the parade of condolence callers is beginning to fray her patience, one of her actual favorite humans finally shows up, saving her mood from souring completely. Drew looks striking in a simple black polo shirt, so much so that it reminds Leigh of the time Matt got all jealous over him, until Leigh let him in on the secret that he plays for the other team.

He passes her a little envelope, his birthday offering—a gift card. Leigh’s barely expressed her thanks over the simple present when he jumps right into feedback on her latest advice column.

“Read your puppy counsel on my way here. It felt a bit... casual, don’t you think?”

Leigh smirks up at him, arms crossed, the gift card crinkling between her forearms. “Just say it's terrible advice if that's what you mean.”

Drew purses his lips before relenting. “Fine. It was terrible advice.”

“Expect more of that if I tackle the stuff I’ve been avoiding. Still think it’s a good idea?” Leigh says, nodding like it’s exactly what she wants to hear. Drew lets out a sigh, swiftly steering the conversation away before their playful banter escalates into a disagreement. With Leigh, he knows all too well that the edge of an argument is always closer than it seems.

“Anyway, happy birthday, again,” he says, trying to lighten the mood again. “Ryan's tied up with work stuff, totally wiped, but he did wish you a happy birthday.”

Leigh’s face hardens slightly at the mention of Ryan. She’s been harboring this nagging thought that Ryan dislikes her, a suspicion fueled by a criticism she once shared with Drew in confidence, suspecting Drew might have passed it along. Drew, seeing her expression change, doesn’t rush to correct her assumption.

“He hates me,” Leigh concludes before Drew can even get a word out.

“He doesn’t—”

“What I don’t understand is why you couldn’t have kept it between us?” she demands, feeling betrayed.

“Because Ryan’s my person. I tell him everything. That’s how being in a marriage works,” he says, but the moment he sees Leigh's face fall, he wishes he could retract those words.

Leigh bristles, her voice rising, “I know how being married works!”

She's livid, because that should go without saying. How dare he imply that she no longer knows, now that she's only half of a whole—her best friend, of all people.

Drew exhales coolly, as if trying to douse the proverbial fire between them. “Why does it seem like we're always either fighting or about to fight?” he wonders aloud.

Leigh’s anger softens into something more reflective, and she sighs, the fight draining out of her. “I don’t mean to...” She trails off, searching for the right words. “It’s like I’m always ready for a battle. I don’t know why. It’s like I’m expecting it, waiting for it, at the end of every day.”

Drew lets the moment breathe, waiting for both of them to deflate completely before tacitly reaching out behind Leigh for a snack. “These are great, by the way,” he says between bites, acting like they hadn’t just been at each other's throats.

Leigh tries to match Drew’s candidness, but inside, she’s reeling. It bothers her, this pattern they’ve fallen into—her temper flaring up, followed by a quick brush-off, as if these outbursts are merely now a part of who she is. She hates that she’s become predictable in her volatility, that her explosions are met with a shrug and a wait-out-the-clock mentality from those around her. She’s tired of it, tired of being seen as a ticking time bomb, her anger and hurt dismissed as just Leigh being Leigh, waiting for the reset button to be hit so the countdown can start all over again.

But it's her birthday, and she's brought these people together on a Tuesday night for fun. She didn't gather everyone just to tell them, once and for all, that they need to stop acting as if her husband just died.

So, she goes with the flow, laughing when it's her cue, even though deep down, she feels more alone in the crowd than ever.

With the absence of alcohol, the party winds down by 11 PM. Guests begin trickling out as early as 10, and by the time Leigh is bidding farewell to the last attendee, she's already donned an apron, ready to take on the mountain of dishes left behind.

Which is to say, showing up right now pretty much means you've missed the whole party.

Pulling up in front of Leigh's house, the night already deep into its quiet hours, you’re running on the adrenaline of the day's emergencies. Two cases back-to-back at the clinic, one of them diving straight into surgery, left you no choice but to push everything else to the side. Suzie, who was meant to join you as your plus one, ends up stuck back at work, tending to a recovering St. Bernard, so it's just you and the sleeping puppy on your lap now. For her sacrifice, you promise to take her out to a nice lunch one of these days.

The puppy starts wagging its tail in its sleep, and you look down with a smile at the little dreamer. The decision to give Leigh the puppy wasn't made lightly. You've been turning the idea in your mind for a while now. Initially, you didn't even realize her birthday was coming up, and the invitation to her party caught you off guard, especially considering the somewhat unresolved way things were left between you two weeks ago. The timing of her birthday, your rocky history, it all made you second-guess whether a puppy was a good idea. In search of a voice outside your own head, you turned to a favorite advice column you often read in your spare time. To your surprise, your submission was picked up by one of the columnists, and the response you got wasn't just advice; it was the push you needed. You were lucky to be able to catch their answer, just before you got home to change for Leigh’s birthday party.

Trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach, you give yourself a quick once-over in the rearview mirror and apply a fresh swipe of nude-colored lipstick. With one last look, you carefully step out of the car, the sleeping puppy nestled securely in your arms. The moment you move, it stirs, burrowing deeper into your armpit, seeking refuge from the light of the street lamps.

Everything's too quiet as you walk up to Leigh's house. You anticipated some noise, music or chatter—anything to indicate the party was in full swing. But there are none. Could you have missed the party? Or worse, did Leigh get the date wrong on her invite? Hesitantly, you press the doorbell, instantly regretting it, thinking you might be waking up the whole house.

Just as you're about to bail, the door swings open and it's Jules.

“Y/N!” Jules nearly trips over herself getting to you, eyes wide when she spots the furball you’re holding.

“Hi Jules,” you mutter sheepishly.

“Is that a…” she squeaks out, already reaching for a cuddle before you've even nodded. Jules is all over the puppy, who seems just as happy to be the center of attention. After a while, she looks up, a bit more composed but still glowing.

“I didn’t know Leigh invited you. Too bad, you just missed the party. But you should definitely come in and say hi to Leigh,” she says. You want nothing more than to see Leigh again, even if only for a brief moment, just to accomplish what you came here for and perhaps wish her a happy birthday. But with the party over and you potentially being the only guest, it feels like walking into a situation you don’t think you’re prepared enough for.

Then, as the puppy licks Jules' face off, she pauses and looks at you funny. It clicks for her—no collar, no leash, just you and this puppy who appear no more than two months old.

“Oh my gosh, is this for Leigh?” Jules gasps.

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I-If she wants him.”

Jules looks at you, then at the puppy, her smile blinding. “Well, I want him. But if she doesn’t, I’ll be more than happy to be his mommy.”

You laugh at her enthusiasm. Still feeling skittish, you ask, “Do you think it’s an appropriate gift for Leigh?”

“You're a vet. It's kind of on-brand for you,” Jules quips.

You laugh again. “Really?” you ask, kind of hoping for a more solid reassurance.

Jules considers it for a second, before saying, “I can at least assure you it’s not unwanted.”

Good enough, you think. Jules hands you back the puppy and then says, “She’s in the kitchen. Look, she’s not exactly in a good mood, but I think you should go for it anyway.”

That’s two people egging you to go ahead with your surprise. It must be a sign from the universe. You make up your mind for the final time. “Thanks, Jules,” you say.

“Anytime.”

You tread lightly, making sure your footsteps don’t give you away as you approach the kitchen. Leigh is at the sink, doing the dishes, clad in a black dress that skims her thighs, her feet bare against the cool kitchen tiles. Her shoulders are slumped, her movements laconic, as if her body is there, but her mind is miles elsewhere. The expanse of skin revealed by her hair tied up in a high ponytail captivates you, holding you back from announcing your presence. You allow yourself a moment to take her in, thinking this might be the only chance you get to really look at her like this.

You’re about to say “Hi”, when Leigh whirls around, startling you both. Leigh, not expecting anyone to be there, loses her grip on the plate she's holding, and it smashes loudly against the floor.

“Jesus!” Leigh’s scream summons Jules and her mom into the kitchen. Meanwhile, you are trying to do damage control—holding the puppy with one hand and attempting to gather the ceramic shards with the other as Leigh continues to stare at you in shock.

Amy, wrapped in her robe, looks from the mess on the floor to you and then to Leigh. “What’s going on here?”

Jules is unfazed, simply watches the entire scene from a corner of the room, smirking.

Your cheeks flush with shame, and you find yourself grateful to be still seated on the floor, your back turned away from Leigh's family.

“I’m so—” you start, but Leigh cuts you off.

“Okay, everyone just...calm down," Leigh says. She kneels down beside you, her hands joining yours in cleaning up the broken pieces.

“I'm heading to bed,” Jules says and then winks at you. “Happy to see you, Y/N!”

Amy wraps her robe more snugly around herself, then with a small, puzzled shake of her head, says, “Well, good night everyone. And happy birthday again, sweetheart,” before she walks down the hall and out of sight. Leigh gets to her feet, a slight nod of appreciation directed your way as she holds open a trash bag for you to deposit the ceramic shards. That’s when the puppy finally catches her attention.

“And who's this little guy?” she asks, a smile starting to play at the corners of her mouth.

You clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. He’s yours if you want him. Don’t worry about refusing, there’s someone lined up to take him in case you’re not—”

But Leigh’s already gently taking the puppy from your arms, instantly cradling and bouncing him as though he’s a tiny human baby. It’s a sight both funny and utterly endearing, and you can’t help but let out a soft chuckle, feeling your heart grow a size or two.

“Who wouldn't want him? He's perfect,” Leigh says, her eyes not leaving him as he nestles comfortably in her arms. Hearing those words, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. She doesn't find it odd; she's already falling for him.

“Happy birthday,” you tell her, and when she looks at you, her smile is so bright it could light up the whole night. Right there is everything you hoped for. All you really wanted was to see her happy.

“Thank you so much,” she murmurs, clutching the puppy tighter to her chest. Then, cocking her head to the side, she inquires, “What's his name?”

The grin on your lips can’t be helped, and you’re hoping she wouldn’t see just how much she’s having an effect on you. “I haven’t named him yet. He was always meant to be yours, Leigh,” you say.

Her smile just gets bigger as she gazes down at the little furball in her arms, and you think this is exactly how things were supposed to go down. It’s one of those rare moments where reality lines up perfectly with expectation.

“I think I’ll call him Logan.”

You and Leigh retire to the living room after she kindly offers to make you decaf. As you settle onto opposite ends of the couch, tucking your feet under you, Logan instinctively takes shelter in Leigh's lap, as if he already knows he belongs there.

“So…Why Logan?” you ask, after making a mental note of how Leigh makes her coffee: one cream, two sugars.

“Well,” Leigh says, her fingers gently stroking Logan’s deep chocolate fur, “he just looks like a little wolverine, doesn’t he? With that color and those defiant little eyes.”

The dots connect in a funny, unexpected sort of way. Leigh and comic books don't seem like the most likely pair.

“Ah, like the X-Men character. I didn’t know you were a comic book fan,” you say.

She laughs, a sound that’s light and free of any shadows. “Oh, I wasn’t. Not really. It was all Matt. He had this massive collection, and he was pretty obsessed. I guess some of it rubbed off on me after all.” The mention of Matt doesn’t bring clouds into her eyes like you expected. She talks about him like she’s looking at something distant but dear.

“Thought you were bailing on me tonight,” Leigh , almost casual but there’s this undercurrent, like she’s really saying she’s glad you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I got stuck at the clinic longer than expected.” Leaving her waiting, especially today, was never part of the plan. Your work as a vet often means unpredictable hours, but you hadn't expected it to stretch so far into the evening.

“It’s okay, you didn’t miss much.”

Her casual dismissal makes you wonder, but not wanting to pry too much, you shift slightly, asking, “So, how did it go? Did you enjoy yourself at least?”

Leigh simply smiles and shrugs, an action that speaks volumes without giving much away. “This,” she nods down at Logan, “getting him from you, feels more like my birthday than anything else today.”

The conversation that follows is easy, skipping over the day-to-day stuff—nothing deep, but you're both there—really there—and it's nice. It feels like a fresh start, and you're deeply thankful for the second chance she's offering you. You promise yourself you won't mess it up this time.

But just as you’re both delving into more personal topics, someone rings the doorbell. Logan perks up, his head tilted, ears alert. Leigh gives you a look, as if saying she's not expecting anyone else to show up this late at night. She puts the puppy down on the floor and when she opens the door, it’s Danny, looking sorry for himself. He’s holding a bouquet of roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. It seems as though he has the whole evening planned out in his head—apologize, crack open the wine, and maybe be invited to Leigh’s bedroom afterwards.

Danny’s eyes find you and his face falls a bit. He wasn’t expecting company, certainly not you. “Leigh, can we talk?” he asks, then looks pointedly at you. “Alone?”

Leigh looks torn for a moment, glancing your way as if she's not ready to let you out of her sight. She insists it'll just be a minute, but you can read the room. This is something they need to sort out without you playing third wheel.

“It’s all good, I'll head out,” you tell her though you're staring Danny down, making sure he knows it’s not because of him that you’re leaving. Leigh either misses the whole glare-off or decides to stay out of it. Logan tries to follow you as you make for the door. It’s hard leaving him behind, but you know he’ll be happy to have found his forever home. You kneel down, giving Logan a soft kiss on the head, promising him you’ll be back soon. And then you turn to Leigh, a question at the tip of your tongue but she already knows what you’re going to ask.

“You can see Logan anytime,” she says with a faint smile. “I might need your help with him sooner than you think.”

The moment you close the door behind you, Leigh's jaw sets in a firm line, bracing herself to confront Danny. Her main priority is to get Logan settled, so she decides that forgiving Danny might be the quickest way to send him on his way. But Danny’s focus now isn’t on apologies or making it up to her. He’s fixated on Logan, his brows knitting together in confusion and, curiously, a bit of annoyance.

“Who gave you that?” he asks Leigh as if he’s just referring to an inanimate object lying around the house. He sounds like he's almost accusing her of something, and Leigh's baffled.

“A friend gave him to me,” she says, nodding towards the door you've just walked out of. Danny's face twists up in an instant, like a storm cloud bursting. “A friend,” he repeats, and the way he says it, it’s clear he’s not just asking. He’s fuming with jealousy, and Leigh can’t wrap her head around why.

A gift is just a gift, right? Why would…

Oh.

Earlier, while she was reviewing submissions for the advice column, someone asked if giving a puppy as a birthday gift to someone they're interested in would be a good idea. She remembers how she happily encouraged them, telling them to go for it.

At this realization, Danny, the puppy, and everything else slide to the back burner. The only thing occupying her mind now is the deep, dark brown hue of your eyes, like rich espresso.

EspressoEyes. That's how the person behind the submission signed off. It's like a lightbulb moment, but softer—like waking up slow.

It's you.

Oh.

349 notes · View notes

cyberslvts · 2 months

Text

“Darling”

AHHHHHH GET THE FUCK WEIDURHW AKWKNEHISJD

#she needs to stop calling me thag unless shes tryna get engaged #pet names are so corny #unless its from her #she makes it sound so good

5 notes · View notes

cyberslvts · 2 months

Text

home intruder ࿏ wm

summary: in which wanda doesn't handle rejection well.

words: 6.8k

warnings: home intrusion (obvi), dubcon/noncon, top!wanda, bottom!reader, degradation, name-calling, size kink, use of cumstrap (r receiving), enhanced strap, breeding kink, there's a knife, stalkerish, yes i wrote this home alone while kit's at work, wanda come intrude my home and my pussy pls

this is a dark!fic for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

masterlist.

Fingers clutch onto the soft drips of dew that rumble down the plastic cup of your iced coffee, wetting them. It’s cool to the touch on this humid spring morning. Refreshing.

Clint’s hand holds a black paper cup of hot coffee and you wonder how he hasn’t broken a sweat. It was the time of year and the time of day when businesses hadn’t switched over to AC yet by noon, so the warm morning humidity from outside was trailing into the coffee shop with every jingle of the bell above the door that swung open for each customer.

The arrival of March meant the melting of things. Your iced coffee in your clammy hand. The crisp night air every morning. The feathers of the birds tweeting their songs at dawn. On the other hand, there were some things that melted out from the wintry hold that were not so pleasant—like Wanda’s obsession with you.

The entire situation was a lot less extreme than the word “obsession” may imply, you opined. Clint and Nat, who’d introduced Wanda to you in the first place, seemed to agree. It shocked you at first to hear that Wanda had developed a crush on you. From the very moment that Clint had introduced you to Wanda at his house party, you thought she was shockingly beautiful. That golden red hair like a flame, her smooth porcelain skin stretching over the most structured arches in her face, and of course, those sparkling emerald eyes under shades of thick lash like shady pools of jewels glinting the sun’s rays. The smirk on her blush rose lips, curling the skin in the left corner.

Her hand was warm when it gripped yours for the first time in a surprisingly delicate handshake. You had heard stories of Wanda, of her power and temperament—the first’s reputation better than the latter. You’d imagined her as a god like Thor, but there she was in Clint’s little farmhouse party wearing a plaid shirt tucked into jeans with loose red curls and the softest handshake you’d ever had, along with the warmest smile. She felt like a gently crackling fireplace.

Everyone liked Wanda for the same reason. She was powerful and strong, inciting fear in those who’d seen her fight. But she was kind and unassuming, always tucking herself in a pocket out of the limelight where Steve and Tony thrived. She liked to slither along walls and make conversation with its flowers. So of course, everyone liked the gracious witch.

But for some reason, deep down in your stomach, something felt off about her.

It was about three weeks after that first meeting that Nat had called you while she was on break from training with Wanda to tell you that Wanda had confessed to Nat that she liked you. It shocked you not only because of Wanda’s coolness but also because you hadn’t even seen each other since that first night, and your interaction that night was limited to a handshake and a 15-minute conversation. Nat said that Wanda probably had looked at your social media like everyone does in today’s world and learned more about you from there.

That’s when you listened to that feeling about something being off about her.

It wasn’t that she gave you the creeps or that she seemed fundamentally evil. You truly felt that Wanda was harmless. She was a beautiful, kind, emotional person gifted with power you’d never seen before. But, along with her reputation of letting her emotions get the best of her, the fact that she liked you so quickly after one meeting just screamed emotional immaturity, and you simply weren’t looking for that kind of thing.

The second time you met Wanda was at a group dinner at a restaurant. The whole gang was there, going out to eat in celebration of a victory. You don’t know whether it was a stroke of chance or premeditated planning that put Wanda sitting right next to you at the large, round table.

The conversation was casual, and you admit that you started to break your walls down a little. She was charming, that witch. Though you still couldn’t see yourself ever dating her, she was very fun to be around and such a piece of eye candy. You found yourself swooning a little at the way her lips carved a smirk into her face, the depth in her green eyes under the intimate golden light of the restaurant, how soft and warm her hand felt again when she had gripped yours during a fit of laughter after you cracked a joke. She was a charmer, this witch. She’d even managed to get your phone number out of you.

Hey, it’s Wanda. I had a great time with you at dinner tonight! Would you want to go get coffee with me tomorrow morning? There’s a cute little coffee shop by my place :)

What are you up to??

Is this y/n?

Hello?

Those were the four messages that Wanda sent over the span of three days immediately after that night at the restaurant. As much of a charmer as she was and one of the prettiest women you’d ever seen, you just simply weren’t interested. You didn’t want to start texting and catch feelings only to end up in a relationship with someone who, though known as kind and warmhearted, was moreover known to the exterior world as dangerous.

Luckily, she gave up on texting after the fourth text.

Nat giggled and shook her head as she took a sip of her cold brew, and Clint just sighed and looked around the coffee shop awkwardly, his mind probably more on his kids than this adolescent story you were telling. The coffee shop was feeling more humid than ever.

“Sounds like she’s a simp,” Nat remarked, leaning back in her chair.

“What’s a simp?” Clint posed.

“I’m not meaning to talk bad about her,” you clarified, which was the truth. You didn’t have a disliking for Wanda now. She tried her shot with you, and that doesn’t make her a weirdo. “I’m just not interested, y’know?”

Clint tore open a sugar packet and poured it into his coffee, looking more uncomfortable than ever. “Why was I invited to this girl talk, again?”

“To get you out of the house, old man,” Nat playfully snipped at him before turning back to you. “Honestly, y/n, I think you probably dodged a bullet. Wanda is nice and all, but… you haven’t seen her out in the field. She’s overly powerful. And to be honest, it seems like she just loses her head every time.”

“Give the kid a break. She’s been through a lot,” Clint said seriously.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Nat argued. “She’s been through a lot, so she has some issues. Emotional and mental. I don’t know if it’s something I would want to deal with. Especially with how dark she can get.” Nat sighed, shaking her head before letting her eyes pierce yours directly. “I’m just saying that if you did date her and ended up making her mad… I don’t think it would end well for you.”

Clint swallowed a gulp of coffee and raised his finger. “I do agree with you there.” He cleared his throat and leaned forward over his cup. “If she lost control on you…” He set his lips in a straight line and shook his head. “She could kill you in a heartbeat.”

Something in your heart trembled. Had you made her mad already? You hadn’t realized what anger issues she had. Sure, you knew she was emotional and that it always got to her on the field, but from the way they were speaking, it sounded like the issue was a lot worse than you thought it was.

“I mean, remember the one time?” Clint motioned to Nat, who immediately made a face of recognition.

“I can’t even think about it,” she immediately cut him off, raising her hand. “There was blood everywhere for days.”

You blinked hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. You looked down to your melting iced coffee, and flashing images of Wanda, the sweet redhead, covered in blood with stone cold eyes, surged through your mind and made your heart stammer. It was a scary image. It was something you hadn’t thought about until now.

“Well, I hope I didn’t make her angry,” you murmured, feeling a trail of fear seep through your bloodstream.

Nat opened her mouth as if she was about to assure you, but her lips quickly closed. “Maybe not angry but… you might have hurt her feelings a little. We haven’t seen her in a few days.”

“No one’s heard from her,” Clint added, looking at you seriously which just made that fear in your bloodstream spread.

Nat’s eyes flicked over you, her head tilting a little. “Don’t worry.” She always knows when you’re worrying. “If she was actually a psycho in day-to-day life and not just in fighting, she would’ve done something by now.”

“Yea, she’s always quick with her revenge,” Clint said with an edge of suspense in his voice, squinting his eyes as he slowly raised his coffee to his mouth. Nat rolled his eyes and told you to not listen to him.

You brushed off Clint’s teasing and tried to forget about all of it for the next few days. It started to seem like a pathetic thing to worry about when after a week you hadn’t heard anything from Wanda. Nat told you that she was back to training and was acting very much normal, if not more cheerful than usual. She suspected that you just hurt her feelings and, Wanda being the emotional witch she is, needed a few days to recover. Nat said that Wanda didn’t speak a word of you. You honestly started to feel guilty and, funnily enough, wondered if you were stupid for shooting her down so quickly. She was annoyingly beautiful and funny and kind, and people basically worshipped her for being so powerful. Someone like her went after you, and you turned her down.

But you remembered what Nat and Clint had said. She could kill you in a heartbeat. Maybe you were better off dating someone in your own powerless human level so you could date without that scary image hanging over your head all the time.

Nights in your apartment were quiet. Gravity Falls’ theme song plays softly in the background while you chop vegetables for dinner. It was the last semi-cool day in March before it would heat up, so you decided to make some chicken noodle soup. With big fresh carrots in your hand and an even bigger knife, you listen to Dipper and Mabel’s voices as you chop the veggies for the soup and let water boil on the stove.

Living in a high-rise apartment in the city meant there were noises. The constant whoosh and hum of cars on the road immediately below, the distant honking of their horns every ten seconds, the occasionally voice of someone yelling loudly enough on the street to reach your ears ten stories up, and of course the immediate sounds of your neighbors existing all around you. Footsteps from above, random bumps on the wall, the plasticky sound of someone hauling grocery bags up the stairs, voices rising from below in joyous laughter or domestic screaming. After years of living in this apartment, your ears had grown accustomed.

But the ear can only get accustomed to so much.

It’s not accustomed to a sharp clicking sound near the front door. You gasp and drop the knife down on the cutting board, slices of carrot dropping to the floor and the knife rattling on the surface. You can feel your eardrums strain to listen as your eyes stare at the sedentary front door, pupils trained on the doorknob. You could see that the chain lock was unlocked, hanging still, but surely the deadbolt was locked like it always is. It’s locked, right?

You always lock your doors. You’re a girl living alone in the city. You would never so carelessly leave it unlocked after coming home from a long day of work just like you had that day, right?

You take a step forward to go check, but a sizzling sound from the oven catches your attention. To your surprise, the water you were boiling for the soup had boiled right over the large silver pot, foamy water spilling onto the stovetop.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, coming closer to where the steam was rushing upwards and carefully reaching around it to turn the heat down nearly all the way. You grabbed the ladle and attempted to calm the water by stroking it, and finally it eased back down into the pot, leaving puddles of water on the stovetop. “Goddamnit.”

It was so simple to get your mind off what you had heard from the door. You were already back to prepping veggies, this time washing off the stalks of celery in the sink which faced the living room. Another episode of Gravity Falls was starting, and you looked up to watch the theme song play on the TV as your hand rolled the celery around in the strainer, the faucet splashing cool water over your hands.

Pop!

Something hit the glass patio doors across the room. It made you jump, your entire body stiffening as your head snapped towards the doors. You saw something small and circular rolling on the carpet away from the doors. Confused and rigid, you carefully walked over, wiping your hands on your pants as you kneeled down to see what was on the floor.

Eyes squinting, you carefully touched the tiny green ball and picked it up to realize that it was a pea. A frozen pea from the pile of frozen peas over on the counter that you had set out in a bowl to put in the soup near the end.

“What the fuck?” you whispered, jumping to your feet and looking bewilderedly around your apartment as you stupidly held the pea in your hand. How had a frozen pea made its way from the kitchen counter all the way to the patio door, let alone get thrown so hard that it had popped so loudly against the glass door?

It was then that your eyes caught something—something so small and subtle that you were merely lucky that your eyes had landed on it. The chain lock on the door was hanging down just like it was before. But this time, it was ever so slightly swinging.

Holding back a gasp, you quietly leaped across the room to the door and placed your hand over the doorknob, turning it to find that it is locked. So you had locked the deadbolt.

Glancing up at the chain, you found that it is now still.

Were you going crazy? Had you only imagined the chain swinging? Had you accidentally kicked the pea over to the patio door without even realizing it?

Gravity Falls was still quietly playing on the TV, and you peered into the bedroom to see that it looked as normal as it ever did. You were only being paranoid. No one had opened the door, no one had broken into your apartment and started a pea war. You were fine.

Sighing, you shook your head and went back to the kitchen, drying off your celery and putting it on the cutting board. Grabbing the knife, you went to chopping up the celery.

If only you’d checked in the bathroom. If only you hadn’t gotten distracted by the water boiling over. If only you hadn’t chased after the pea and turned your back on the door. If only you were aware enough to feel green eyes burning into the back of your precious head.

You didn’t even hear her footsteps behind you—they were mixed in with the chopping of the celery in front of you. Between that and trying to decipher which Gravity Falls episode was playing solely based on sound, your ears just weren’t good enough to pick up the footsteps coming from behind.

It was like you didn’t react for a second, as if it was completely normal, or as if you didn’t even feel it. The hand on the left side of your waist, warm and gentle, slithering around to palm your tummy. The subtle breathing right behind your head. The warmth of a body moving in on you. It wasn’t until a body pressed right up against you that the panic set in. It all happened so fast.

First, an uncontrollable scream rose waveringly up out of your throat, and your first instinct was to buck backwards. You pushed yourself harder into the body of the person behind you, and sharp metallic sounds filled the air as you dropped the large knife onto the cutting board, causing it to screech across the counter as chopped carrots and celery rolled onto the floor and were squished underneath your feet.

The person’s arm around your waist squeezed you hard, and their other arm snapped right around your neck, tucking your chin into the corner of their arm. They were iron strong—you couldn’t even tilt your head. More shrieks and squeals lifted out of your throat. You didn’t have time to even think about what was happening because your instinct to survive kicked in. You thrashed your feet and heard their own feet scuffle to shift your swaying balance as your feet kicked the lower cabinets with a wooden rattling sound.

Your hands gripped the leather-jacketed arm that was bolted around your neck, fingernails scratching helplessly at the squeaky leather. Your face was getting hot, and when their arm squeezed your throat harder to restrict your breath, you could feel boiling pressure rising up into your head. You were pretty sure you were still thrashing your feet, but soon you were unable to even tell if you were because you could hardly breathe.

“Be still,” a feminine voice behind your ear whispered. It was familiar. You knew that voice.

Letting out a choked whine, you put your feet flat on the cabinet in front of you and kicked yourself off the cabinet in an attempt to throw the person behind you off balance. It failed because she only gave you a hard enough shake to make your head get dizzy, pushing you up against the counter. The cold, hard edge of the counter dug into your belly as the person pinned you there with her body.

“I said be still,” she growled, and that was when you saw wisps of red in your peripheral vision. At first you thought it was your vision distorting as your brain was deprived of oxygen, but you quickly realized it was hair—wisps of red hair. Your body started to weaken and go numb, your feet lamely kicking around as she held you over the counter with an arm around your neck and one around your torso.

Your brain was too weak to put a name to the woman who you knew behind you. “Let me go,” you choked, fingers weakly clawing at the leather-jacketed arm. “Let me…” The pressure in your head swelled, your vision dimming.

You couldn’t feel anything, or think anything, or do anything in that moment. You relaxed like a dead snake in her arms, knees folding and arms dropping to your sides. She was strong enough to keep you upright. You were moments from total blackness when finally the arm around your neck loosened. She pressed on your tummy twice to ignite your breathing, and as oxygen flooded back into your bloodstream, your eyes reopened.

“Wanda,” you whispered, your hands returning to her arm. Your body was still relaxed, too weakened from suffocation to do anything other than hang in her arms.

“Silly little thing,” her snakey voice whispered in your ear. “Leaving the door unlocked like that. You know anyone could have broken in, right? You’re lucky it was me.” Her voice seemed to echo inside your head as you felt the warm wind of her breath fan right against your ear. “Some pervert could have came in and taken advantage of you, princess.” She let out a breath, her hand on your tummy slowly sliding down before sliding back up again, rubbing your tummy gently.

If you were strong enough, you would have slapped yourself for leaving the door unlocked. You knew it. You knew you had. But you were doubting yourself, because she was lying to you. You had locked the door, like you always do. It was her magic that unlocked it. It was her magic that made the water boil over, and it was her magic that flung a frozen pea at the patio door.

“Wanda, please…”

“Don’t go begging me yet,” she hissed, tightening her arm around your waist. “You’re far from being on good terms with me. You’ve been very, very cruel.” Her hand on your tummy felt burning hot as she slid it downwards and snaked it under your shirt, gliding it right up the bare skin of your tummy. Her nose dug into the back of your ear. “So soft,” she grunted, her body pressing harder against you.

“Please let me go,” you begged through jagged breaths, letting yourself hang still so you could regain strength. Your mind was coming back to you, and you eyed the knife coated with bits of carrot and celery laying a foot away on the counter.

“Now why would I do that when I finally have you right where I want you, hmm?” Her voice was velvety and vicious as her hand roamed up your shirt, ghosting over your tits which made her breathing get heavy. “I’ve been dreaming of having you like this ever since I first saw you. If only you would’ve given me the time of day, I would’ve been much, much nicer.”

Suddenly, her hand under your shirt grabbed the fabric of it and ripped it right off your neck, exposing your chest as the fabric tore loudly. You gasped, your body stiffening as she hummed in your ear. You could see just a hint of her face in your peripheral vision as she peered down to look at your chest.

“Such a pretty thing, just as I knew you would be.” Her hand came up and groped your chest, causing you to let out a squeak of fear. Even her hand was recognizable, because even as she was putting you in a headlock and threatening you, her touch was still delicate and warm, just as it had been at the first handshake. Tingles spread where her hand touched you all over, a sickly confusing feeling rising in your stomach.

“I’m going to make you all mine, princess,” she sultrily whispered as her hand left your tit to trail down and grab the hem of your shorts, tugging them down slightly. “I don’t care if you don’t want me. I have to have you.” Her words became breathy as her body grew hot behind you. You still gripped her arm around your neck, your mind still trying to process the terror of what was happening. “I’ll make it hurt as little as possible, baby, I promise.” You could feel the curve of a smirk burning on your ear.

She was pressing so hard on you that you could feel her muscles tighten to start moving you somewhere, and as soon as that happened you let your survival instinct get the best of you. Your hand slammed down on the handle of the knife a foot away, your fingers barely gripping the wood and picking it up before her hand clamped down on your arm, rattling it and causing the knife to slip downwards and fall to the floor.

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” she growled, your wrist shaking in her hand as she yanked you away from where the knife laid on the floor.

Wanda dragged you, your feet kicking at the ground, towards the bedroom. Your eyes started to water as you writhed as hard as you could, your head pounding from all the effort. After what felt like forever, she finally let you go and pushed you onto the bed. You immediately sat up, saw the open bedroom door behind her, and bolted for it. In what was merely a second, red magic covered the door and slammed it shut, then covered you and sent you flying back down on the bed, the red wisps snaking around your wrists and pinning them down onto the bed.

“No!” you screamed, fighting your hardest against the magic, but it was like punching a diamond wall.

Finally, you craned your head to get a look at her face. For a moment there, even though you knew what she looked like, you’d been imagining some ugly monster trapping you. Now, seeing Wanda’s face in the dim light of the bedroom, you were smacked with how sickeningly pretty her features were. Her eyes, normally emerald, were a deep crimson red now, signaling her use of magic.

“God, I’ve been dreaming of seeing you tied up for me,” she said quietly, as if speaking to herself. The tint of red in her eyes brightened, and magic wrapped itself around your ankles, spreading them open and keeping them pinned to the bed. You didn’t even try to fight it this time.

As she came closer to the bed, you started to wriggle more in the magic cuffs holding you down. “No!” was all you could manage to get out as she grabbed the hem of your shorts and ripped them off your body, leaving you totally bare for her.

“Fucking hell,” she whispered, her eyes widening and soft lips falling open. It was confusing, how pretty she was, with what she was doing to you. Her eyes were trained between your legs, her tongue rolling over her lower lip as she started to crawl onto the bed.

“Go away!” you shouted weaker than you thought it would sound. She ignored you, resting a hand on your knee.

“Oh, princess, don’t be like that,” she remarked, her eyes finally meeting yours again. You could feel yourself shrink under her stare as she came to hover right over you, fists weighing down the mattress on either side of your head. “I’ve been so patient with you already. I’ve given you time. Now I just can’t wait any longer.”

You felt so stupid. Maybe if you had nicely let her down instead of just ignoring her, she wouldn’t have been so mad. Hell, maybe if you had just given in and given her a chance, you could’ve avoided royally pissing her off and making her intrude your home. Now here you were, naked and tied up and vulnerable under this witch whose eyes were widened with obsession.

Smirking, she looked down to your thigh as she slid her hand up it, curving it around to grip the inside of it. “So soft,” she repeated. Her nails dug into the tender flesh there, causing you to squeak. “How much of a whore are you really, hmm, princess?”

She suddenly jolted her hand up and grabbed you between your legs, causing you to shriek and attempt to thrash at the touch. She laughed in your face as she ran her fingers down your slit, finding a pool of wetness. “A dirty whore. Got it.”

Your face grew even hotter than it already was. You hadn’t even realized you were wet until she touched you, and the sickly confusing feeling in your tummy returned. “Stop it!”

“Stop what? Showing you what a true whore you are?” she growled, her fingers roaming through your folds, causing your thighs to tighten. You tried to close them, to squeeze her hand away, but the magic only spread your legs open wider for her.

Wanda giggled and it was ironically one of the most angelic giggles you’ve ever heard. Her fingers found your clit, and she watched you intensely as your body innately reacted. You bit your lip and tried to be as still as possible, to have no reaction, but she started to rub your clit in circles.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy, princess,” she whispered, leaning her face down closer to yours. You jerked your head away from hers, but her free hand grabbed your chin and forced you to look at her. Your face burned hot in her hand as she continued, “Let’s see how tight you are for me. I wanna know how many people have fucked you before I do.”

You whined, and you didn’t know if it was out of fear or some other feeling rising up. Your brain was screaming at your body for reacting positively to her, but it felt so far out of your control now. Your clit throbbed as her eyes raked over your body hungrily, her fingers sliding away from your clit and settling at your entrance. Eyes settled on your chest, she pushed two fingers slowly inside you, her teeth taking her lower lip between them as she measured your tightness.

Squeezing your eyes shut, it took everything in you to keep quiet as Wanda’s fingers entered you. “Oh fuck,” you heard her groan in a whisper, opening your eyes to see that hers had turned red out of pure desire. “You’re so fucking tight.”

It was true, even her fingers felt uncomfortably large inside you. She’d even only had them in to the first knuckle. Your ears burned at her soft voice speaking such lurid things.

She wiggled her fingers inside you, and you felt sweat drip down your forehead as you used all the strength in you to not react. When she curled her fingers and hit a sweet spot inside you, your mouth dropped open, something between a whine and a groan leaving your throat.

“There you go,” Wanda murmured, watching you with widened eyes. “When you stop fighting me, it feels good, princess.” Her tongue raked over her teeth as her lips curved. “Though I’m about to make it hurt real bad.”

Pulling her fingers out of you, both of her hands went down to the buckle of her belt. Panic rose within you as you could see the outline of a bulge through her jeans as she wrestled with the metal buckle.

“Wanda, please,” you begged, starting to squirm again. At this point, you were only trying to make your body stop reacting so well to her. You were a liar if you were to say that you didn’t want it physically. It was your mind stopping you, telling you that you were sick for enjoying this, that this shouldn’t be happening. The wetness between your legs showed your true desires.

Her belt flapped open, and her fingers went to the button of her denim. Your clit throbbed at how she had to lick her lips as her eyes ate your body up.

“Wanda, please stop,” you said again, barely even knowing what you were saying. It was pathetic how weak your pleas were because you didn’t even mean them. “Wanda, stop—”

A harsh slap right against your cheek rang in your ears as your head whipped to the side, your cheek instantly burning from the slap. You hissed, feeling your face heat up in the shape of her hand. It was enough to shut you up because your mouth hung open dumbly, unable to even form words.

You heard a zipper and weakly opened your eyes to see that Wanda had undone her pants, exposing a scarlet strap that had streaks of glowing red cracks throughout it like lava in molten rock. It was the same red wisps that had your wrists and ankles cuffed. She’d enhanced her piece, and you didn’t know exactly what that meant, but you had a feeling you were about to find out.

It was large, too. So large that her hand looked small around it. She smirked at the obvious look of fear on your face—she was feeding off your fear, thoroughly enjoying it. She was also feeding off the fact that you were obviously struggling to reconcile the fact that you liked it.

“Relax, princess,” she whispered softly, settling herself between your legs as a mix of panic and anticipation rose within you. “The more you fight, the more it will hurt. Just be nice and still for me, hmm?” She smirked as she lowered herself, and you felt the tip of her cock press against your clit, inciting the first sound of pleasure from you. “Good girl!” Wanda exclaimed with one hand on your hip and the other holding her cock. Using her magic, she folded your legs up so that your knees were bent and spread wide open.

The tip of her cock ran through your folds for a moment, and you found yourself getting impatient. You were starting to feel blurry and were leaning into the pleasure no matter how sick in the head it made you.

Finally, she nudged against your entrance. In that moment, you could already feel that she was way too big. “Wanda, wait,” you breathed, hoping that maybe you could at least persuade her to be gentle.

“I’ll be gentle,” she promised as if reading your mind before pushing the tip against your entrance, struggling to get it through your folds.

You watched as the witch bit her lip and watched your skin stretch to take her in, and instantly you felt shots of hot pain radiating from where she was hurting you. “Ah!” you cried out, expecting her to at least pause and let the first wave of pain leave you, but she kept going, sinking herself further in, centimeter by centimeter, stretching your hole around her oversized cock.

That’s when you started to realize the magical part of the situation. As Wanda forced herself deeper inside you and stretched out more of your cunt, her mouth fell open and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She hissed and groaned, her entire body stiffening and her face contorting in pleasure. She was feeling you from the inside.

“Fuck,” she cursed, her hand on your hip tightening its grip. You were unrelenting with your whimpers of pain as she stuffed her cock into your cunt, the pain starting to blind you as you physically felt your walls being stretched.

“Wanda, Wanda, Wanda,” you whimpered, trying to beg her to slow down. But with a momentary loss of control and a snap of her hips, she jammed herself all the way inside you, pushing against your cervix and entering what felt like your belly.

You threw your head back and groaned out, trying to control your breathing as you felt just how much she filled you up inside. She paused for a moment, which you were thankful for, but immediately she started to pull out.

It was searing pain as Wanda started to thrust in and out of you, stretching you out even more as she loosened you around her. Tears started flooding down your cheeks. “Too big, too big…” you murmured, but Wanda was lost in the pleasure of feeling you.

She’d been waiting all these weeks for this moment, to feel you from the inside, to break you down, to take you in every sense of the word, to make you wholly and completely hers. She knew you’d be innocent and tight and that she could stretch you into the shape of herself so easily.

“Ah!” you cried out at every thrust that just got more and more aggressive. She was so big and so deep in your gut that your lower belly bulged each time she bottomed out inside you.

“Aww, you’re bleeding,” she laughed when she looked down and saw bits of blood dripping onto the sheets between your legs. “That means you’re doing such a good job, angel.”

You could only whine wordlessly, sweat dripping down your forehead, eyes squeezed shut, mouth in a painful wince. The buckle of her belt was pressing into the soft of your thigh and marking it there.

“That’s it, take it. Take it like a good girl, princess. Take it,” Wanda repeated, her hand finding your throat and squeezing around it as she quickened her pace.

Wanda’s forceful entry inside you began to transform from searing pain to tendrils of pleasure. Her cock, still thrusting at an even pace inside you, was hitting spots it didn’t feel like it was hitting before. Bursts of pleasure bloomed within you, and the wetter you got for her, the less it was hurting, and the more squeaks you were letting out for her. She was really breaking you down now.

“Good girl,” Wanda groaned, looking like she was struggling to not let herself go. Suddenly, she pulled away from you, her cock pulling out of you with a pop. You were too fucked out already to know how she managed to turn you over, but in a mere second you were now on your stomach, wrists and ankles still bound by magic, and Wanda was shoving her cock inside you again, only a little easier this time.

The different angle made it feel like she was even deeper inside you. She moaned in your ear as she let her bodyweight press you down hard into the mattress, both of her hands on your lower waist.

“You’re being such a good whore, just as I knew you would,” she husked shakily as she fucked you into the mattress. Drool was pooling out of your mouth onto the sheets. “Feel how deep I am inside you?” Her hand slipped under you and pressed against your tummy, causing you to feel how deep she was even more. She could feel her own cock fucking into your belly, and it was enough to make her almost spill.

You, on the other hand, were already on the edge of cumming as she pounded you into the mattress, your entire body trembling and hot as you tried your hardest to not let yourself cum.

“Come on, princess, I know you need to cum,” Wanda growled, pressing harder on your tummy as her other hand came to your throat again and squeezed it. “Be a good whore and cum on your intruder’s cock. I know you wanna.”

You did want to, your body wanted to. The mental wall trying to protect your dignity was faltering, and you were losing control.

“Fuck, Wanda, Wanda, Wanda,” you mumbled incoherently into your own pool of drool on the pillow as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. When her nails dug into your throat, it was all you needed to push you over the edge of sanity. Pleasure crashed hard into you, blinding and deafening you as your insides squeezed around her cock.

“Fuck!” Wanda cried out as she felt it, fucking harder into you so that the bed hit loudly against the wall. Blood was dripping everywhere down your thighs now.

Wanda manhandled you and fucked you like a toy as she chased her own high that kept you going on yours. “I’m gonna cum inside you,” she murmured before lowering down to your ear. “You like it with no protection like a whore?”

Panic bells rang inside your mind, but there wasn’t much you could do in your state but mumble a barely audible “No” into the pillow covered in drool and tears.

“I’m gonna fill you up with so much cum, princess. I’m gonna breed you like the whore you are.”

She moaned against your shoulder, her entire body shaking as she met her edge, and she reached down and squeezed the base of her cock. Ropes of cum went surging inside you as the witch came, rocking herself into you as her cum filled your cunt to the brim. You cried out into the pillow as your belly swelled, her magical cum swirling inside you.

Wanda’s entire body went limp on top of you, suffocating you on the bed. She took several moments to catch her breath, but you were way too far gone. Your mind was fuzzy and brainless, your body weak and trembling as you laid there with a mix of cum and blood between your legs, your intruder’s strap still inside you.

“See, princess?” Wanda whispered breathlessly, her hand running over the hill of your ass. “I told you it wouldn’t hurt too bad.”

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cyberslvts · 4 months

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NOBODY MOVE EVERYONE SHUT UP

#screaming

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cyberslvts · 4 months

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When will it be our time

Sigh….. another snub

#elizabeth olsen #golden globes

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cyberslvts · 4 months

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MOTHER HAS ARRIVED

#im going insane #she looks so good

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cyberslvts · 4 months

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Me pretending like no one saw me completely eat shit and fall down the escalators at the mall

#never going back #i have a bruise on my hip #elizabeth olsen #cyberslvts talks

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cyberslvts · 4 months

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PHONE | w. maximoff

summary: You call your wife and decided to show her just how much you miss her

warnings: 18+ MDNI phone sex, guided masterbation, fingering, only thing on my wishlist this year is nasty phone sex with wanda

word count: 3k

It had been about five days since your wife left for her business trip, and to say you missed her was an understatement.

The house held a heavy silence as you settled into bed for the night, pulling the comforters up to your waist, feeling a subtle emptiness creep up when you looked at the empty bed space next to you. Prompting restless tossing and turning until you ended up facing your nightstand, the soft glow of your digital clock highlighted a jumble of trinkets: a small bowl cradling Wanda's extensive collection of rings, and a few pairs of earrings, a forgotten mug of now-cold tea, a petite bottle of hand cream, and a book precariously hanging off the edge

Your eyes continued to run along the smooth wood until they landed on a framed photo of you and Wanda, Captured during last year's anniversary celebration, Wanda had taken you into the city your faces slightly pushed together, painted with toothy grins as you both bundled up in thick winter coats leaning into each other for warmth.

Your heart swelled as you looked at the photo. Wanda's bright grin and sparkling eyes, filled with so much love, only made the ache you felt for her at that moment worse. She truly was the best partner you could ever ask for, always so attentive and devoted to you, making you feel like the most important person in the world, and in her eyes you were.

She was so sweet to you, calling and texting you whenever she got the chance, in between meetings or as she was leaving the hotel. Always eager and enthusiastic just to hear your voice on the rare occasions your timings synced up. Given the distance, Wanda was behind by two hours, leaving your calls awkward to match up, always missing each other by a few minutes. When Wanda was just waking up you were stepping into the office, and when she was leaving work you were already asleep.

You supposed she was eating dinner right now, probably with her co-workers or indulging in takeout from the Italian place she had previously mentioned. You felt silly, missing her this much when she had only been gone for a few days.

As you continued to look at the photograph you felt something blossom inside you, shifting slightly, your foot began to run up and down the side of your leg as your thumb swiped over her face in the picture. It felt like it had been an eternity since she last touched you, which you knew wasn't true as she had made sure to give you an extra memorable morning before she left for her flight, fucking you into oblivion before giving your limp body a sweet kiss goodbye.

You returned the photograph to the nightstand and rolled over in the bed until you were pressed against Wanda's pillow, you shamelessly dug your nose into the fabric, the scent of her shampoo and perfume invaded your senses and made you feel like she was right there with you. Your body temperature increased and your clothes started to feel a little too tight around your body.

Before you could rile yourself up anymore, your phone lit up the room with a loud ring. You smiled when you saw Wanda's contact name appear on the screen,

“Hi honey” your tone comes out huskier than you expected, you hear the sound of a door shutting from the other side of the call,

“Hi sweetheart, I didn't wake you did I?” Wanda attentively asks, feeling an immediate warmth as your voice reaches across the distance.

“No, not at all” You answer, readjusting yourself so your back is propped up against your headboard “Did you just get back?”

“Yeah, we got out early today,” She tucks the phone between her neck and shoulders, and you can hear the sounds of ruffling clothes, as both her hands are occupied with unbuttoning her suit jacket.

You bite your lip, imagining Wanda coming home in her work clothes. her hair messy from the walk home, the collar of her white shirt undone, looking so sexily disheveled. You sat up straighter in your bed, not wanting to get too carried away.

As the minutes passed you fell into your usual routine, exchanging the details of your day, from the mundane to the extraordinary, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Wanda listened attentively, her genuine interest was evident in the thoughtful questions she posed and the occasional chuckle at your natural charm. In turn, you hung on every word as she recounted her workday. The familiar cadence of her voice brought comfort, making it feel as if she were right there in bed with you.

Eventually, she tossed her jacket over the back of her chair, flopping down onto the bed in exhaustion, letting out a breathy sigh that you didn't miss.

“You sound tired, are you sleeping okay?” you questioned, whilst massaging the divit of your palm against the top of your thighs, trying to dry the sweat that had formed.

“No,” she huffed out, rolling onto her back, and placing one hand over her stomach. “The bed is terrible, the sheets are so scratchy and the mattress is too hard, I'd much rather be back in our bed, with you.”

Her unfiltered honesty made you giggle and you smiled, knowing that Wanda had a tendency to not receive a good night's sleep if it wasn't spent wrapped up against your side.

“I wish you were here too, I miss you.”

"I miss you too," she replied honestly, staring up at the popcorn ceiling, picturing you doing the same. Your back is flat against the mattress, hair sprawled out along the pillows, your shirt slightly riding up your torso, exposing your skin. Her thoughts began to slip, and it was becoming harder to focus on the conversation. The sultry tone of your voice played in her mind, and she couldn't help but imagine the sensation of her fingertips tracing patterns on your skin.

“Yeah?” you purred, your voice smoothe against Wanda's ears. She didn't fail to recognize the familiar switch in your tone, and she felt a rush of excitement start to fill her.

“Yes baby, so much, I hate being away from you.” She rasped out, closing her eyes when she heard your breathing start to pick up. The atmosphere between you two shifted, becoming heavier and more intimate.

“What do you miss about me?” You pressed, wanting her to fall into the same lusted haze you were trapped in.

“Everything” She immediately responded, as if she had been waiting all week to answer this question. Wanda's fingers absentmindedly traced circles on the edge of the bedsheet as she continued, “I miss touching you, and feeling you against me, I can't stop thinking about it”

A quiet sigh escaped her lips, her imagination running wild with the vivid memories of you together.

“Tell me more” you bit your lip, pressing and rubbing your thighs together in anticipation. Your head felt fuzzy, and your arousal swelled, a throbbing pulse resonating from your core, working yourself up so much you felt as if you were going to explode, You weren't sure if it was because you haven't seen your wife in almost a week, the distance amplifying your neediness for her. Regardless, every word exchanged over the phone was igniting a spark in you that needed to be taken care of.

Wanda's voice dipped even lower, as she happily obliged to your request “I keep thinking about that morning before I left, how loud you were and how pretty you sounded”

“My strap couldn't even stay inside you, it kept slipping out because your pussy was so wet” she teased you, already knowing your cheeks were flushing a vibrant red in embarrassment. She ran a hand down her stomach, her skin felt ablaze, a heat coursing through her that made every inch of her body tingle. She slowly unbuttoned her dress shirt, the cloth splitting apart and falling down the opposite sides of her torso, until only a black bra remained covering her upper half. Her hand fell down her breasts, lightly squeezing them and letting out a moan right into your ear.

You sighed, listening to her husky voice, the vibrations from the phone tickling your jaw. You felt a familiar wetness start to pool and you sunk lower into the bed until you were flat against the sheets. Wanda hears you rustling around the bed and presses the phone harder into her ear.

“Fuck baby, I miss you so much” You let a moan escape your lips, your hands slipping under the blankets to begin stroking yourself over your underwear. “I've made myself cum twice since you left, just thinking about you”

A throaty moan escaped her lips involuntarily, immediately painting a vivid picture of you in her head. You, alone in your bed, your hand buried between your legs, moaning her name. The sound echoed in her ears, remembering nights when she made you sound just like that. Your voice, now a seductive whisper, only fueled her daydream, making her cheeks flush as she felt a wave of desire wash over her.

“God, you're really turning me on right now” You heard the metal clicks of Wanda fumbling with her belt, with an alarming speed, she shed the rest of her clothes throwing them across the room so they were out of her way. She pushes herself farther up the bed and slides under the covers, her hand immediately finding her wetness, where she starts rubbing gentle circles to her clit.

Your hand slides under your panties, running a finger through your pussy and spreading it all over your folds and clit. The whine that reverberates inside your bedroom encourages wanda to do the same. “What are you wearing right now?”

You don't even open your eyes, which were squeezed shut, already knowing exactly what you had on “Just my underwear. the red ones”

Her grip on the phone tightened and she let out a string of curses, she knew exactly what you were talking about. The pressure she has on her bud gets harder imagining you in her favorite pair of panties, how pretty and fuckable she knew you looked right now, and how she couldn't do anything about it.

You slowly push a finger into your slippery walls, and an immediate sense of disappointment washes over you. A frustrated whine escapes your lips as you miss the expertise of your wife's fingers, vivid memories playing in your mind of how Wanda's touch could make you scream and cum within minutes.

"I need you so bad, Wanda," you confess, the desperation evident in your voice. Tightening your hold on the phone, as if it were your only lifeline to her. "It doesn't feel as good when I do it.".

Wanda's heart beats faster, hearing your desperate little whines, trying to find any hint of pleasure to relieve the ache she wasn't there to take care of. Wanda promised her self as soon as she arrived home she would fuck you so good, long and hard, taking you in every position possible, just what you deserved for being her good, patient wife.

"I know, baby," she purrs, her words weaving a tapestry of lust. "Just close your eyes and imagine my touch, my fingers doing all the work." Wanda's explicit instructions and encouragement make you throb, and you start to squirm against the bed eagerly awaiting her next command.

"Go slow, baby," Wanda instructs, her voice a sultry whisper through the phone. "Add another finger and curl it, just like how I do it." You let out a low moan, attempting to replicate her movements. Though it's not quite the same, it's undeniably better than before. Sliding in another finger, you leave it there for a moment, feeling your walls squeeze and flutter around it.

Gently curling your fingers, flashes of Wanda flood your thoughts. Pushing them deeper, you can almost feel her presence, as if she's right there with you, guiding your every move. In your mind, Wanda is on top of you, deep inside your pussy, praising you as a good girl. The image is so clear you start to feel twirls of pleasure forming in your stomach.

“That's right, honey, just like that” Wanda's voice is shaky, listening to you wholeheartedly follow her commands.You were so obedient, her precious girl. “Now, arch your back”

You do exactly as she says, the tip of your head falls back against your pillow and your ass digs itself into the mattress. Your pleasure immediately deepens and you start to move your fingers faster,

Wanda mirrors her instructions, pumping two fingers in and out of herself, letting out deep groans right into the phone. As she listens to you on the other end, pleasure-laden sounds and breathy moans fill the air. She can hear your pussy making the dirtiest sounds, loudly squelching everytime you jut your fingers in. She wishes she were there to witness it in person. Frustration builds as she hears the most beautiful sounds escaping your lips, and the fact that she can't do a single thing about it heightens the tension.

"I can hear you, how wet you are," she moans out, beginning to lose herself in the pleasure. "Is that all for me?

“Yes, all for you,” you breathlessly respond, your hips bucking up to match the rhythm of your fingers, desperately chasing your high. “you're making me feel so good”

The once-pristinely ironed sheets are now a tangled, wrinkled mess as Wanda's whole body squirms and writhes against the bed. She uses her thumb to rub at her clit, her mouth falling open at the sensation. Her eyes lock shut, entirely focused on creating vivid mental images of you that bring her closer and closer to the edge.

She felt her pussy tighten around her fingers, thinking about all the times she had made you cum, your adorable face scrunching up into an expression exclusively reserved for her played vividly in her mind. The memory of your eyebrows sewing together, your thighs wrapping around her, and your desperate attempts to cling to any part of her body for comfort lingered in her thoughts. On those particularly heated nights, she would work you up to a point where deep red lines would be etched into the skin of her back. stinging and aching so deliciously the next day.

When she tells you to go faster, you feel your orgasm rapidly build and the room starts to feel hazy. Thick with heat and the sounds of your and wanda's moans. You pump your fingers faster, and you can see them glistening with your juices everytime they pull out, just to be greedily plunged back in.

"Fuck, say my name,” she commanded, her final plea as she felt her self getting so close, needing to hear you scream her name while you both came on your fingers

You meet her request immediately, "Louder," she insists, and you obediently start repeating her name over and over again, getting whiner everytime. Your head was emptied of all thoughts other than Wanda as your fingers repeatedly hit that spot inside you.

“Wanda, oh god wanda”

Your voice started getting higher and louder. Wanda could tell you were about to cum, she started fucking herself harder wanting to be right there with you when you fell apart. She felt the phone start to fall out of her grip and just before she was about to fall over the edge she switched on the speaker button and let the phone fall out of her hand and next to the side of her head.

“Is my messy girl gonna cum? just from my voice.”

You parted your lips to respond but your mouth fell open wider when your orgasm suddenly ripped through you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as her name spilled off your lips in sharp moans and gasps. Your hips bucked up and down trying to prolong the sensation for as long as possible

Hearing all of this, Wanda fell into her orgasm with a matching intensity. Her thighs shook around her hand and she tossed her head to the side. One hand gripped the pillow to her face, muffling the loud moan of your name. Trying her best to keep quiet since the hotel walls were known for being thin.

Your breathing slowed, feeling your orgasm begin to subside, your back fell limp against the bed listening to wanda do the same.

“Well, that was certainly different” Wandas voice returned, although much deeper and huskier as she struggled to catch her breath, You could practically hear her smile as she relaxed into her post orgasmic bliss

“In a good or bad way” you questioned, sitting up on one elbow and throwing your frazzled hair over your shoulder.

“A good way, a very good way,” she assured, letting out a satisfied sigh. Her eyes grew heavy, and you could hear the rustling of the bed as she began pulling the comforters up past her shoulders, tucking herself in. She let out murmurs, whispering about how much she loved you and that she would be home soon.

You smiled knowing how tired she gets after sex, part of you dimming with the realization that you weren't there to hold her to sleep. Yet, you reassured yourself—she would be back home with you by the end of the week, just as she promised

Opting to stay on the call tonight, you recharged your phone and placed it on top of your pillow, close enough to hear Wanda's tired breathing, a comforting sound that soothed you to sleep. Just before you fell asleep, her voice broke the silence.

“Let's Facetime instead tomorrow”

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #fanfic #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen

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cyberslvts · 4 months

Text

I CANT STOP TWERKING

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

summary: Wanda edges you, and you take it all like a good girl.

content warnings: whew, there’s a lot. Cunnilingus, fingering, choking, collar and leash play, choking, edging, spreader bar, restraints, overstimulation, vibrator, strap-on, passing out

word count: 4.6k+

masterlist

A/N: This was requested by @mrsromanovaa ! You can find the original request here.

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Soon, Darling

“On the bed, darling. You know how I like you.”

Wanda’s voice is firm, her accent rolling over each syllable as you attempt to not shiver at the command. Without speaking, you nod once and move your shaky legs towards the massive bed in the center of the room. Approving green eyes watch your movement, even as her face remains unreadable.

Taking a few calming breaths, you position yourself on top of the soft comforter. You’re thankful for its dark maroon color, sure that you must be dripping as you move onto your back. After all, Wanda hadn’t been subtle with her teasing glances and forward touches throughout your date night. She knew which buttons to press, what words to say, and which times to whisper directly in your ear as you shivered beneath her.

Even thinking about the evening the two of you had shared brought a pleasant warm buzz to your chest, and you refused to acknowledge what that buzz could mean. Shaking yourself from your rapidly spiraling thoughts, you smiled gently at your girlfriend of six months, pleased at the wink you received in return. Excitement filled you as she moved to kneel on the foot of the bed, her fingers grazing your ankles as her eyes began to glow scarlet.

Oh yeah, your girlfriend had totally awesome powers. And, she wasn't shy about using them around you. Suck on that, Vision.

Wanda twisted her fingers, an object slapped into the palm of her hand, and all thoughts of her ex boyfriend left your mind as you realized what she held. The two of you had talked in depth about different things to try in the bedroom, but seeing it in person was slightly terrifying. But, also incredibly arousing at the same thing.

You refused to think about what that meant for your psyche.

The spreader bar was placed between your spread ankles, Wanda’s knees just barely touching it as she began to run her hands over your calves, fingers light and teasing. Oh, you were definitely dripping now.

Evidently, Wanda could either see the evidence right before her eyes, a smile creeping onto her face as you willingly spread your legs further for her, or she could smell it. That was one of her favorite phrases to say, and one that never failed to turn you on even more than you already were.

“God, you smell divine. Is that all for me?” She’d ask, and you’d somehow find yourself giving her every part of you that you had to offer. Sometimes you wondered how the events of an evening had unfolded, your brain went a little bit too fuzzy sometimes, only remembering how you felt during the experience. Wanda would reassure you, telling you that subspace was normal and nothing to be afraid of, and of course, you believed her.

“Darling?”

Ah, there you went again. Getting trapped in your own head. It wasn’t your fault that you got lost in a train of thought. Or, maybe it was. Actually, thinking about it, it was totally your fault because it was your own head, right? And-

“Focus, love.” Wanda’s voice cut through your inner monologue, halting your thoughts immediately. In the space of a millisecond, you felt your brain get squeezed through a tube, the bedroom becoming sharper as you seemed to re-enter your own body. Green eyes peered down at you, searching your own as Wanda’s fingers gently stroked your face.

“Sorry, I,” You didn’t get the chance to speak, Wanda’s finger pressing gently against your lips, understanding in her eyes.

“It’s alright darling, are you ready to continue?” Her voice was low, reminding you of the heat pooling in your gut. You felt another wave of arousal, and nodded quickly.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” Wanda smiled approvingly, and you were grateful for the single lamp that glowed warmly in the corner of the room. At least she wouldn’t be able to see most of the blush that spread across your cheeks. Then again, judging by her knowing gaze, she definitely knew what her words did to you.

Moving slowly, as if not to scare you, Wanda moved her hands firmly up and down your calves. It seemed almost as if she was giving you a massage, but when she grasped one ankle firmly while bringing one end of the spreader bar towards it, you knew that you were in for a long night.

“Too tight?”

You shook your head, eyes wide as you experimentally flexed your ankle. The strap attached to you didn’t budge, and you could feel the tension of the metal rod as Wanda moved to attach the rest of the spreader bar to your other ankle. She gripped the middle of the metal, giving it an experimental tug.

Your body jolted, hips moving closer towards your girlfriend as she pulled you closer by the spreader bar. Her smile was nothing short of wicked, and you shivered at the hungry look in her eyes as they roamed your helpless body. At least your hands were free.

Wanda gave you a look, twisting her fingers once again as your wrists were wrapped in scarlet wisps and pulled tight against the headboard. You sighed, of course she was in your head, the tricky little witch.

“Behave.” She commanded, and you resisted the temptation to roll your eyes, knowing that would only bring punishment. You really didn’t want that, not after the hours of teasing she’d put you through during dinner.

“Please, Wanda.”

“That’s not my name.” Her eyes were hot, fixed on your body as you squirmed slightly beneath her watchful gaze. The tension rolling in your gut was becoming overwhelming, and your clit throbbed as you feebly thrusted your hips towards her.

“Please…” You begged, taking a deep breath, calming your racing heartbeat.

Raising a single eyebrow, Wanda tilted her head. Your heart jump started, racing once again at the movement. Her hands moved teasingly over your inner thighs, fingers mere centimeters away from your messy pussy. She was teasing you, the promise of her fingers finally granting you the relief you so desperately needed sending you over the edge of embarrassment.

“Mommy…” You knew it sounded pathetic, but you couldn’t really control how your voice sounded at the moment.

Wanda was pleased, a low sounding hum reverberating through her chest as she thought about her next moves. You waited patiently, knowing that this was the moment that she would decide if she was going to tease you for the rest of the night, or give in and pleasure you until you begged her to stop.

Both options sounded great to you, so you weren’t too worried about the outcome of her decision.

Deciding to test the strength of the newest restraint, you tried to push your ankles together. Your legs didn’t move an inch, and you realized that you were well and truly fucked if Wanda decided to tease you. There was no escaping, no matter how hard you tried.

Again, you really didn’t want to think about what that could possibly mean.

“I think,” Wanda started, and your ears immediately perked up. “I think that I need a blindfold.”

After announcing that very helpful and definitely not-at-all frustrating announcement, Wanda got off the bed, smirking at you as she made her way into your shared walk-in closet. You sighed, throwing your head against the pillows as you tried to control your reaction to her words. You knew exactly which drawer she was rummaging around in, and thinking about the multitude of toys within it made you want to squeeze your thighs together. Anything to reduce the unbearable ache between your legs.

Oh, wait. You couldn’t. Wanda had made sure of that with a high quality spreader bar. You moved your legs again, realizing the only thing you could do was bring your knees towards your chest. No matter what you tried, you couldn’t get your legs to fully close.

Giving up, you steadfastly ignored the rush of arousal accompanied by juices flowing from your pussy at the knowledge that your legs were permanently open for your girlfriend. In all honesty, you wouldn’t have it any other way. More arousal leaked down your inner thighs, and you smirked at the thought of what Wanda would say when she found a puddle of your own arousal beneath you.

“You know,” Wanda’s voice startled you, and your eyes greedily took in her naked form as she made her way towards you. You didn’t imagine the extra sway to her hips, and you licked your lips as she moved to kneel beside you on the bed.

Cold hands caressed your face briefly before Wanda placed a strip of fabric securely over your eyes, tying the back of it tightly as you raised your head helpfully. She continued speaking, even as you felt her weight shifting around on the mattress.

“I’ve been thinking,” She moved towards your ankles, settling herself between your legs. Her hands gripped the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, kneading the muscles. “I want to use my mouth tonight, my tongue feels restless.”

You groaned, the sound coming out as more of a moan as Wanda chuckled somewhere near your drenched pussy. The last time she’d used her mouth, you almost passed out from the sheer amount of pleasure she had brought you, your clit over sensitive for the rest of the evening.

Before you could properly prepare yourself, her tongue was pressed against you. She moaned, the vibrations hitting you perfectly as you tried not to roll your hips.

Wanda liked it when you were still, or at least attempting to be still. She’d spent weeks training you, edging you for each movement you made while she slowly traced your clit with a single finger. You knew better than to move your hips while she was pleasuring you.

But holy fuck did it feel good.

It was almost enough for you to forget yourself, and forget all the training that Wanda had drilled into you. But you refrained, wanting to be as good as possible for her. After all, bad girls didn’t get to cum.

You wanted to cum. Very, very badly.

Wanda began flicking her tongue against your clit, the deep ache within you rising like a wildfire. The flames of your orgasm licked at your skin, and you let out a long moan that was supposed to be a plea. You felt her chuckle against you, her fingers digging into your hips as she buried her face deeper against your swollen pussy.

Certain that you would find bruises all over your hips the next morning, you experimentally shifted your weight. The steady pressure of Wanda’s tongue against your protruding clit stopped, and you choked down the complaint that threatened to escape you.

“Why did you move, sweetheart?” Wanda’s eyes gazed imploringly at you, but you wouldn’t fall for it. Her tone was sugary sweet, but you sensed a trap. “Didn’t mommy teach you better?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” You winced at how breathy you sounded. It was pathetic, but Wanda’s fingers relaxed slightly from their tight grip on your hips, so you continued. “I forgot myself, you just make me feel too good, mommy. You’re very talented with your tongue, please do it some more.”

You felt like it was a bit overboard, but Wanda seemed satisfied and you were willing to do almost anything to cum. Strong fingers twitched against you, and you stiffened as you realized that Wanda was still in your thoughts.

‘Emphasis on the word almost.’

A small smirk worked its way onto Wanda’s face, even though you couldn’t see it, but you felt it against you as she began sloppily making out with your glistening pussy. Her tongue slipped roughly against your clit as your juices coated her chin. You were like a drug to her, your taste both invigorating and addicting at the same time.

Wanda couldn’t get enough. She could stay between your thighs for hours, reading your body language with each new stroke of her tongue, the sounds of your sighs and whispered moans wrapping around her head and pulling her headfirst into the very essence of you.

It took everything in her to pull away from you, the tell-tale signs of your impending orgasm too overwhelming to ignore. Besides, she wanted to play with you for a little while. Also, you were adorable when you panted and tried not to squirm, chasing the last few droplets of pleasure she could draw from you before pulling fully away.

“Mommy, please…” Your voice was whiny, and it only took a millisecond before you realized your mistake.

“Good girls don’t complain,” Wanda summoned something, a piece of fabric that you couldn’t quite make out. Her eyes bore into yours as she continued, “Mommy doesn’t want to hear that, and you know better. Haven’t I been good to you? Aren’t I making you feel good? Soon, darling.”

Before you could say anything, the fabric she was holding was stuffed into your open mouth. Letting out a soft grunt as you readjusted your jaw, you stifled a moan as the taste of Wanda’s arousal hit your tongue.

Pulling off the beautiful form fitting dress she wore, Wanda smirked as you realized what piece of clothing she’d summoned. She felt a wave of possessiveness enter your mind as you eagerly sucked on oher ruined panties, your thoughts swirling at the knowledge that you had made her this wet.

Pulling your ankles up, Wanda slipped between the spreader bar and your body, letting the backs of your thighs rest atop her own as she kneeled before you. Her hand drifted, teasing fingers tracing your hip bone as she admired the glistening heat between your legs.

Letting her gaze travel over your body, she admired every inch of your skin as she made her way towards your face. Wanda knew that she would never get tired of looking at you, her eyes eagerly taking in every curve and contour of your body, mapping out different paths as you flushed beneath her.

Green eyes finally met yours, and you saw her smile. Her fingers brushed over your mound, grazing your clit and collecting some of the wetness pooling between your thighs. A single finger traced your slit, teasing you as she chuckled.

“Did you want something?”

You let out a huff of air through your nose, tilting your head as you stared at her. Taking a chance, you let your hips move slightly. It was just enough to wordlessly plead with her, begging her to soothe the ache between your legs.

A single finger entered you in one thrust, burying itself knuckle deep in your pussy, and you nearly sobbed in relief. You let out a long moan, letting Wanda know just how pleased you were, and missed the smirk that flashed across her face. Your eyes were closed, head thrown back as she began to move at a steady pace, curling her finger every so often and grazing that spot inside you that sent bolts of pleasure coursing through you.

It was just enough, the perfect pace to sate the hunger that had been slowly building within you.

The thrusts increased, Wanda adding a second finger as she watched your face contort around the makeshift gag. The pleasure changed, becoming overwhelming as your orgasm attempted to rise. You knew by now that Wanda wasn’t going to let you cum just yet, and despaired at the thought of being brought to the edge again.

“Mnnfh, plmh mmhmm.” Your attempt at words turned into a groan, and Wanda let out a low hum. Her other hand reached up, wrapping around your throat loosely as she curled her fingers inside of you.

“Soon, darling.”

The pleasure just kept building, your clit throbbing as it begged for attention. If she would just touch it, anything would help you fall over the edge. It took everything in you to not roll your hips, any attempt at repositioning so Wanda’s hand would go where you wanted would be met with a complete absence of touch.

Pleased at your self restraint, Wanda gave a few more deep thrusts before removing her fingers completely. Before you could whine, or even process her movement, she tore her panties from your parted lips, shoving her fingers onto your waiting tongue as she bent down.

The taste of your own arousal hit you, mixing pleasantly with the aftertaste of Wanda’s juices. Then, you felt a tongue licking gently at your aching pussy, collecting as much of your arousal as it could. You felt her tease your clit, circling it softly, and lamented at the lack of pressure.

Wanda worked you up again, her fingers slowly moving in and out of your mouth as your tongue swirled around them. It was an effective gag, small moans escaping you as her tongue steadily applied more pressure. Your orgasm reappeared, and you desperately wished that you could close your legs around Wanda’s head. Anything to keep her where you needed her most.

Almost as if she was reading your mind (oh, wait), Wanda pulled away. Pleasure coursed through you, fading quickly as the stimulation ended, and you let out a whimper.

“Color?” Wanda asked, her voice soft as her fingers twisted again. A vibrator floated into her grasp, your eyes tracking it as you uttered a muffled ‘green’. You recognized that toy, it was one of Wanda’s favorites. The settings were adjustable using a knob, so she could set it at any intensity she wanted.

“Do you want to cum?” Wanda asked, pulling her fingers from you briefly to let you respond. You opened your mouth, the pleas about to spill out, when the vibrator was placed directly against your clit.

Jolting, you breathed heavily, and Wanda just raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t even turned the toy on yet, but just the smallest amount of pressure against your throbbing clit was sending you headfirst into subspace.

“Yes, please.” You didn’t care how desperate you sounded, the only thing in your fuzzy mind was the thought of finally falling over that edge. The one she’d kept you on for hours. The one that would rack your body with pleasure, the edge that only your girlfriend could help you fall over.

The vibrator clicked on, and you felt your legs start to shake. Wanda’s hand held the toy firmly against your clit, her other gently rolling your nipple between her fingers. You recognized the setting as relatively low, but it still sent pleasure shooting through what seemed like every nerve in your body.

“Would you like to try something, darling?” Wanda asked, and you struggled to try and respond. She continued, “We talked about it earlier this week, remember the package we ordered?”

Your eyes lit up in recognition, a feeble nod the only thing you could manage. You remembered the soft red collar and leash that you both had liked, but hadn’t expected it to arrive so soon.

“Call it an early Christmas gift.” Wanda’s voice was soft, full of caring as she watched your reaction.

“I want to try it,” You said, your voice as strong as you could make it. Wanda’s eyes lit up, crinkling at the edges as she smiled widely at you. Evidently, she thought that the perfect response was cranking up the vibrations against your clit.

You shuddered beneath her, hands grasping uselessly at the magical restraints as the pleasure became overwhelming. You were mere seconds away from your orgasm, you could feel the beginning stages of it creeping up on you as your muscles went rigid.

Wanda pulled away, and your clit protested by pulsing rapidly. She paid you no mind, letting you thrust your hips feebly as she summoned a few more items. They all moved to rest neatly on the bed, and Wanda held up the red collar.

Her touch was almost reverent, stroking the soft leather and ensuring that it wouldn’t bite into your sensitive skin. Your eyes locked on it, watching as she brought it closer to your neck. Nodding your consent, you felt your heart race wildly as she fastened it securely.

Two fingers curled around the leather, sticking themselves between the collar and your skin to ensure it wasn’t too tight. Tugging experimentally, Wanda’s eyes snapped to yours when you let out a moan.

“That felt really good.” You breathed out, pupils blown as Wanda gave it another tug. This one was more forceful, and you felt your clit throb as more of your arousal leaked onto the mattress.

The smile on Wanda’s face should have scared you, it was dark and wide. Ideas and fantasies swirled being her green irises, but the only thing you felt was excitement. And extreme arousal, but what’s new?

Metal clinked, and you watched in anticipation as Wanda clipped the leash to the gold loop attached to the front of the collar. She wrapped the leash around her hand, once and then twice.

“Fuck.” You almost didn’t realize that you had spoken, the word slipping out as Wanda gave the harshest tug yet.

A scene of Wanda tugging the leash while fucking you from behind flashed behind your eyelids as you took some steadying breaths. You longed to feel the collar pressing abasing your throat, whoever Wanda would use her hand to choke you, it always made your orgasm much more powerful. It really heightened all of the sensations you felt, and you couldn’t wait to use the collar more often.

“Would you like to try that, darling?” Wanda’s voice filtered through your thoughts, and you flushed as you remembered her presence in your mind.

“Yes, please.” You sounded eager, your eyes bright as Wanda chuckled and twisted her fingers once again.

After some maneuvering, you were on your front. Your hands were still securely attached to the headboard by unrelenting wisps of scarlet magic. Wanda urged you to your knees, the spreader bar making it impossible to close your legs.

Something pressed against you from behind, and you immediately remembered the strap-on that Wanda had brought over. Either she had already lubed up, or you were soaked, because she slid the entire length of the toy into you in one stroke.

A moan escaped you, muffled by the pillow you pressed your face into at the feeling of her strap fully inside you. It was everything you’d been waiting for, your walls clinging to the toy as she began snapping her hips. Fucking into you, Wanda experimentally tugged on the leash, and your head rose unwillingly from the pillow.

“Oh,” She said, her voice raspy as she tugged again. A strangled whimper sounded out, a gush of wetness hitting her thighs as she easily slid in and out of your slick pussy. “I like this collar on you very much.”

“This was a great idea,” You agreed, all your senses heightened as she choked you from behind.

With white knuckles, Wanda pulled on the leash as hard as she dared, not wanting to go too far during your first time using the collar. Using it as leverage, she angled her hips, thrusting deeper inside you, the toy hitting your g-spot perfectly.

Your orgasm builds once more, pleasure spreading from your over-used pussy to the rest of your trembling body. Words left your mouth, but you couldn’t quite make out what you were saying. It was most likely broken pleas and moans, a desperate attempt at convincing Wanda to let you cum.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to cum without her permission, or even without her helping fall over the edge. Sure, you’d tried masturbating, even though it was explicitly against her rules. However, you weren’t able to make yourself cum, not after your body had gotten used to Wanda’s touch.

“Please, mommy. Please let me cum. I’ve… fuck. I’ve been so good for you, haven’t I? I really want to cum, I can’t take it anymore. Please, no more edging.” Your voice gave out quickly, moans replacing your words as Wanda seemed to fuck you harder.

“Fuck,” Wanda grunted, tugging the leash again. “You have been good for me, darling. And because you begged so prettily for me, I’ll let you cum.”

Her next words were muttered right in your ear. “You can cum as many times as you want.” She placed a harsh kiss against your neck, most definitely leaving a bruise that would last for days. Then, she kneeled up straight, her hips snapping steadily as the strap forced every drop of pleasure out from your aching pussy.

“Cum.”

Almost as if your body had been waiting for that command, your orgasm washed over you. It was unrepentant, waves of pleasure racking your body as you all but collapsed. Wanda’s firm hold on your leash kept you from suffocating yourself in the pillows, the sensation of being choked only heightening your orgasm. Everything felt more vivid, Wanda’s fingernails digging into your hip, her strap slamming into your gushing pussy, your nipples dragging along the silky fabric beneath you with each thrust.

Wanda’s hold on the leash slackened, and you sucked in deep breaths as blood rushed to your head. Your orgasm kept dragging on, the constant stimulation from the strap-on triggering a second one.

The hum of a vibrator sounded out, and you half whimpered and half moaned. Your clit throbbed, and you wanted to scream. Wanda placed the vibrator against it, the sensitive nub having emerged from its hood a long time ago.

White stars filled your vision, your limbs turning to jelly as a third, powerful orgasm ripped through you. The waves of pleasure quickly turned painful, Wanda’s hips not slowing for a second as she twisted the knob higher on the vibrator.

You came again.

And again.

Pain and pleasure melded together. The only thing you could sense was Wanda’s presence, everything else fading as she forced your body to cum again. Her hand tugging your leash, her collar wrapped tightly around your neck. Her skin, slapping against yours as she forced the strap deeper.

Her voice, sounding out. Her words, not registering as you came again. Her hand, twisting your face towards her as your vision started to darken. Her eyebrows, threaded together.

Her eyes, that lovely shade of green, forever ingrained in your mind.

And then, nothing.

—-

“Darling, I need you to wake up. Please.”

A cool hand was stroking your cheek, shaking as it wiped away tears that you hadn’t realized you’d shed. Warm breath hit your lips as Wanda sighed in relief, your eyes fluttering open.

Everything was blurry, but your lips still turned upwards. Smiling goofily up at Wanda, you attempted to move. Your limbs felt like lead, your muscles sore as you twisted a strand of her auburn hair between your fingers.

“I was so worried,” Wanda began, but you shushed her.

“Don’t,” Your voice was hoarse, and you cleared your throat. “I enjoyed every second of that, Wanda. I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

Wanda’s voice wobbled, her eyes concerned as she moved to lay down next to you. You threw your leg over her hip somewhat clumsily, still feeling as though your limbs were deadweight. Tucking your face into the crook of her neck, you inhaled deeply, letting her vanilla scent wash over you.

“I’m absolutely positive,” You reassured her, already feeling your eyes closing again. “Now let’s just cuddle for a bit, and then you can order us food while I get the shower ready in, um, about an hour.”

And with that, you promptly fell asleep.

Wanda smiled, stroking your hair as you curled around her. Honestly, how did she get so lucky? She thought about the ring sitting hidden in her office desk drawer, and felt a wave of love overtake her as you pulled her closer in your sleep.

She just had to wait until after the Holidays. Soon, you would be her wife. Wanda couldn’t wait for that day to come.

Soon.

—-

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine

#fic rec

1K notes · View notes

cyberslvts · 5 months

Note

hi! any chance you could write about mean!ceo wanda x fem!reader who’s really possessive and refuses to let reader do anything without her

thanks!!

a/n: hiii love of course ! i also made her a lil bit of a perv :3 thank u sm for this request !

wc: 3.8k

warnings: not proofread ! dubcon, manipulation, dumbification, mommy kink, fingering (r receiving) degradation, implied overstim, name calling (princess, sweetie, bunny, slut) possessive behaviour. 18+ minors dni !

“I thought I told you not to see her again.”

―୨୧⋆ ˚

The cold, gravelly sound of Wanda’s voice shot nerves through your body, travelling from your ears to the pit of your stomach.

You hesitantly looked over to your boss, whose eyes remained glued to the various stacks of papers strewn on her desk, licking a finger and occasionally turning them over. Your muscles instinctively tensed at the lack of interest she held in you, despite her questioning you and only being seated a few feet away.

You’d been given the job to organise and manage files, a task that filled you with great disinterest—something Wanda clearly didn’t find pleasure in doing herself. She usually gave you the shitty jobs, the ones so painstakingly boring that you were nothing but a pile of nonsensical mush by the end of your shift.

Wanda favored you because you were pretty - and useful.

You were nice to gawk at when she was bored, especially in the tiny skirts that barely covered your ass that she’d dressed you in, doing tasks she’d set you that purposely involved bending over.

Your will to please Wanda was strong, and your shy demeanour meant she could ask quite literally anything of you, and you’d comply. You were everything a mean, power-hungry CEO could possibly want.

Wanda was known to be a woman who lacked great care, bore little to no weaknesses, and was often feared for her cruel administrations and orders she’d hand out to her assistants—so poor, sweet, and naive.

Yet something deep inside of her, buried in the pit of her stomach, gnawed, chewed, and twisted her guts at the thought of you. Her mind felt plagued, clouded with thoughts of you, just another PA, or so she thought, tied along with the string of others she’d trained in the past, ones she’d often grown tired of or bored of. But for some reason, somehow, you were different. Something special.

Maybe it was the way you batted your eyelashes at her so sweetly, so unbeknownst, when you were following orders. Maybe it was the width of your eyes, wide as you listened intently, sparkling with the pretty color that left Wanda encaptured. Perhaps it was the pink of your lips, the silkiness of your hair, or the way you tugged on the hem of your skirt so cutely in a sheepish attempt to keep it below your asscheeks. Wanda didn’t know.

But what was known, was that the only weakness Wanda Maximoff truly held was you, and honestly, that only irritated her further.

Sometimes, Wanda’s mind would inevitably wander, daydreaming about your life outside of work. She thought about what you were doing and who you were doing it with, what you did during the day, if you ordered takeout for dinner, or if you cooked at home. She thought about what shampoo you used; did you wash your body or your hair first? What you did at night: whether your hand unravelled the towel from your smooth skin and slipped between your legs. Did you touch yourself at the thought of her like she did you? Somewhere far away in her deepest fantasies, she wondered if you fucked yourself with your fingers, rutting and bouncing into them with heated desperation, or if toys brought you greater pleasure.

Every inch of Wanda’s brain was taken up by you and your irritatingly angelic complexion.

It wasn’t productive for Wanda, nor was it good for her, but she learned to deal with it. She was still sound of mind to balance herself between fantasy and work, and she knew to take her responsibilities as a CEO - the highest position in the industry - seriously.

But what she couldn’t deal with was the image of another woman’s eyes undressing you, taking you into her home and to her bedroom, where she would kiss you and her knuckles would slap against your puffy folds as she’d bury herself deep inside, corrupting your beautiful innocence and moulding you with her filthy hands into such a sinful creature as herself. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t desired the same thing, but you were wholly Wanda’s, nobody else’s, both in her office and in the great depths of her heart.

The day she glanced in your direction, the bright light from your phone screen drawing her attention, even if it was hidden beneath your desk, and saw you texting somebody with a heart emoji, it wasn’t pretty. Wanda’s heart would squeeze and clench at the idea of you being intimate with somebody else—being stripped of your purity by somebody else, inevitable thoughts swirling in her head and corrupting her with jealousy until she was nothing but a rage-ensued, loathing woman who desired nothing but to claim you for herself.

The very next day, all consumed in her own bitterness, she forced you to sit through your lunch break and plan her diary for the next week with no remorse whatsoever in your whines and pleads for an escape. She hadn’t given you a reason as to why she was punishing you; only telling you to shut up and get the work done. She couldn’t tell you how she really felt. How she longed to take you so eagerly into experienced hands and bend you over the expanse of her desk, hands pinned to the small of your back as she stuffed your pussy full of her strap, your small mewls and begs to cum enveloping her ears as you—

She would be getting carried away.

When you heard those much-dreaded, covetous words fathom from the readhead’s lips, your mouth felt like it’d run dry.

“Y-yes, Ms. Maximoff,” you began slowly, pre-cautiously. You knew to tread lightly when you confronted your boss. She was hardly a forgiving woman, and you were aware of how she behaved when things didn’t go the way she wanted them to.

"But that’s private… it- it hasn’t anything to do with my job.” You protested meekly, severely lacking confidence as you shook your head and swallowed down the thick lump in your throat. Your heart thumped as if it’d beat out of your chest, and you mentally thanked the lord that you were sitting down because you were sure your knees would’ve buckled beneath your feet by now.

“Are you talking back to me?” Wanda’s tone made your heart feel heavy, as if it were to sink, tied down with the heavy weight of her authority. The effect Wanda had on you was embarrassing, and it took everything not to return to your silent spot in your corner of the office and wish for the ground to swallow you up.

“No, Ms. Maximoff.” You eventually, pathetically, mumbled, your eyes shifting to your lap, the pads of your fingers fiddling nervously with the bones of your knuckles as they rested on your thighs.

“Good.” You could’ve sworn you heard a chuckle from the older woman as she spoke, her voice low, cold, and smug. “You won’t be seeing her again if you know what’s good for you.”

The silence that followed was loud, with the sound of papers turning and scribbling bouncing from the walls of her office. Your throat felt thick and your chest heavy, knowing you couldn’t just leave the interaction as it was, craving an answer, an indication as to why she was behaving this way, anything.

And so you spoke. Mumbled, almost a whisper beneath your breath. You hadn’t planned for Wanda to hear it, but you expected it nonetheless. She rarely missed a thing, especially not when it came to you.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not really sure why that is your concern, Ms. Maximoff.” You could see in your peripheral the way Wanda’s head raised, eyes drawing to your tense frame, and you regretted your words instantly. Your shoulders tensed, and the muscles raised slightly. You hadn’t dared to look up.

Wanda sighed, setting down her pen and rolling her chair back ever so slightly. She tapped her chin as if to think before she spoke again. “Come here.” She ordered, gesturing with two fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion to the small gap between her and the desk she was sitting at.

With shaky legs, you complied, standing from your chair. The sound of your heels clicking filled the room as you made your way over to your boss. Her eyes landed on the sultry sway of your hips, and the knowledge that your sensuality was nondeliberate drove her crazy. You shimmied into the tight space as your ass practically dug into the edge of her desk, shifting uncomfortably.

The expensive, sweet vanilla scent of her perfume immediately clouded the air around you, filling your nostrils almost intoxicatingly as your cheeks burned at the close proximity.

“Do not speak to me like that,” she said hushedly, her slender fingers reaching forward to play with the hem of your skirt, causing a shiver to run through your spine. “You may be my assistant, but by no means does that permit you to question me.” An achy, hot feeling pooled between your legs, and it took everything not to squeeze them shut tightly in frustration. You gulped back a whine. You wished, ever so secretly, that the dull throb wasn’t something that remained ignored by the redhead.

Albeit, nothing by Wanda was ever ignored. She hadn’t failed to notice the way you got up on trembling legs or the way you ground your pussy into the tight skin of your thighs when you were sitting, as if being a needy whore was something that came naturally to you.

Wanda’s fingers danced from the fabric of your miniskirt to your thighs, cupping the backs of them in her palms before taking handfuls of the pillowy flesh of your ass in her fingers. You squealed in surprise, your eyes widening as you finally snapped your legs shut out of instinct. Wanda chuckled breathily, hiding a soft moan at the feeling of you, capturing what she’d been wanting from you for, oh, so long.

“Oh! W-What are you doing—" You were cut off with a firm slap on your ass, feeling the sting before you heard the smack. You let out a pitiful whine, pouting your lips as they parted, your chest heaving for air. Wanda hummed, squeezing and groping the soft skin in her rough hands.

“Hm… with an ass like this, I’m not surprised that bitch is so consistent with you.” Her jaw tightened at the thought of the woman you’d been talking with. She saw you on your lunch breaks, racing out of the building to meet with her at your assigned location, usually being the small, local café just across the street. She saw you 'sneak' a text underneath your desk on occasion; even after you double - and triple checked Wanda wasn’t looking. But of course she was; nothing got past Wanda.

“But who am I to blame her, hm?” Her accent was thick, the heaviness in it dripping from her tongue as she spoke. “Who wouldn’t want to get in your pretty little pants?”

You gasped at the words coming from your boss’s mouth, squirming at the pressure that built between your legs. She was spitting out such filthy words with cruel intensity, the crude, unprofessionalism of them burning your whole body alight and forcing a whimper from your throat.

As good as her touches felt—the close vicinity between the two of you was clouding your head and working its magic to numb your mind. You knew that it was wrong, that she really shouldn’t be touching you in such an intimate way. “Ms. Maximoff," you gasped, sounding small and tiny as you pleaded. Your lips parted to blow out heavy breaths through them as you spoke. "I- I can't… We shouldn’t be doing this.” Your protests were weak, you knew that, but with such a gorgeous yet dark woman fondling you on her desk however she pleased, careless as to who could see or the consequences that awaited her, you really couldn’t help it.

Wanda sighed deeply, her patience being tested by your pathetic excuses for an objection. She was so close, so close to getting what she wanted from you that she couldn’t possibly stop now. She wouldn’t. And quite frankly, you didn’t really want her to, either.

“Oh, Malyshka,” she responded, purring the word so sultrily that it was almost pornographic. Your chest heaved at the sound of Russian being spoken in such a way, voice echoing in your head and enveloping itself around your mind. You’d only really heard your boss speak her native language in loud, argumentative phone calls, which elicited a different reaction out of you, usually ones making your muscles tense or your body flinch as dread filled the pit of your stomach, knowing you’d have to endure Wanda’s foul mood for the rest of the day.

“You don’t know what you want.” You shivered at the dark words that spilled from her lips. Wanda’s hands released the skin of your ass, slightly raw from her abuse, as her fingers worked the lower buttons of your shirt. She could already see the lacy, black bra that peeked out beneath the thin white fabric, her green eyes wolfish and corrupted by the black which were her blown-out pupils. There was something animalistic in her gaze, wandering eyes as if they were attempting to consume you, eat you alive, ravish you.

“But that’s okay. I know what you want. Mommy can help you."

Her fingers explored your lower stomach, unable to resist the soft skin that lay there as she bit her lip, engulfed entirely in the feeling of you. Your muscles twitched and spasmed underneath her touch, hands wasting no time in unbuttoning your shirt until your chest was exposed to her. Her hands cupped the dips in your torso, running them up until they hit the lace wiring of your bra. A smirk concealed her face as she unhooked the clasps, her breath hitching at the sight of your bare tits on display, something she’d fantasised about on end for months.

Wanda hummed in pleasure, a low, soothing sound that made your ears burn.

“So pretty…” She purred. “You just needed to get fucked, didn’t you?” Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as your gaze found the floor, unable to look at her any longer. Wanda’s fingers grazed your nipples, smiling a cheshire grin when she watched them harden. “That’s why you’ve been acting out? Seeing other women, arranging dates in hopes that they’ll stuff your dirty little pussy full?”

You whined out at her words, accompanied by her thumb and forefinger, which rolled your sensitive nipples between them. “Shh. It’s okay. I’m here now, I’ll give you what you need.” Wanda’s smile never left her face, growing wider at the yelp you let out as she pinched your nipples.

“Mommy, that hurts, please!” You squeaked, grabbing at her wrists, which were locked in place on your chest.

Wanda could almost cum at the way the honorific sounded falling from your lips. Your pure, plump, sweet lips. God, she wanted you.

“Oh, that hurts?” You nod dumbly in response, your eyes fluttering briefly at the dull, stinging feeling. “It does? Yeah?” Wanda’s voice was so saccharinely pitiful that it was embarrassing for you to endure. You looked up at her, a faux pout on her face as her eyes sparkled. She only pinched harder, rolling them between her fingers, until she saw tears fill your eyes.

“You can take it.” She emphasised her words with a harsh slap, biting her lip at the way your tits bounced when she did so. “You will take it.”

You shook your head, your resolve weak as she continued her administrations, rolling, tugging, and twisting, and your head felt so fuzzy you thought you were going to pass out. Wanda clicked her tongue in disapproval, her hand trailing down to slip past your skirt and meet the line of your panties.

“Don’t you think you owe it to mommy?” Her eyebrows knitted together, and the sight made you pitifully whine. “Don’t you think you’ve hurt Mommy enough? Don’t deny me now, Shlyukha." She spat out the last word, and you swallowed thickly at the unknown meaning of it. Slut, it meant. Wanda found the name rather endearing. Rather fitting for a girl like you.

Your own face was ridden in confusion at her words, words that’d sunken so deeply into your mind that you were left to stare at her blankly, searching her eyes for an answer, but they were entirely devoid of anything other than lust as her cold fingers eventually, finally, slipped into your underwear.

“Such a dumb girl. You don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?” Wanda’s middle finger slipped into your folds and brushed along your labia, releasing a throaty moan at the feeling. You were so wet and warm, and your pussy hugged her fingers so perfectly that she could’ve sworn she was dreaming.

Wanda studied your reaction; nodding dumbly and glassy-eyed as your eyebrows knitted together in ecstasy. “That’s okay. It doesn’t matter now. You’re mommy’s now.” Wanda’s touches to your pussy were feather-light and slow, contrastive to the abuse she was inflicting on your nipples, and it was all too much as her digit slipped inside of your tight cunt. You were so far into the floaty, fuzzy headspace she’d put you in that you believed every word she said, even when she was grinning at you so darkly and so cruelly.

“Feels s’good, mommy,” was all you could fathom, muttering out the words as your eyes closed, slipping into the pleasure. She smiled softly as she awed you. Such a sweet, naive little girl.

A second finger accompanied the first, stretching your cunt further forcing your eyes to squeeze shut at the feeling. You already felt full as she angled her thumb to paw at your clit, rubbing tight circles with the pad of it. Your legs were practically jelly, using only the flimsy surface of Wanda’s desk as a stabiliser as you grabbed at her wrist for support. “Do you hear that, honey?” Wanda purred, fingers curling and rubbing against your g-spot with every thrust, creating loud, filthy sloshing noises in the process. Your cheeks burned as you nodded, whining in reply. You could barely even talk.

She chuckled, applying more pressure with her thumb to your throbbing, puffy bud as she spoke. “Your pretty pussy’s taking my fingers so well, sweetie. It knows who it belongs to.” The statement was entirely dehumanizing, but you flushed at it anyway, moaning as the knot in your stomach rapidly tightened.

Your hand tightened its grip around her wrist as your thighs began to shake. You barely stood on trembling legs, and you could feel yourself nearing the edge more each second. "Gonna..." Your words were taken away by a third finger, stuffing you to the brim as tears rolled down your cheeks. "Oh, s’too much, gonna come, mommy." You warned, surprised that you could even fathom that many words as coherently as you did.

Wanda shushed you, reaching a hand down to press on your lower stomach as she curled all three slender, sodden fingers inside, forcing a pitiful cry from your throat.

“Tell me you’re never going to see her again, and you can, baby.” She cooed, her voice sickly sweet and honeyed as it dripped from her tongue, coaxing you mind-numbingly. Your breathing was rapid, and her thrusts were relentless, basking in the feeling she’d craved so long of your walls clenching around her fingers, milking them of all they were. “Come on, bunny. Tell mommy, and I’ll let you know. Tell mommy that you’re mine.”

The hand on your pelvis pressed harder; pornographic moans and squelching sounds filled the room that was once only blessed with professionalism as you squirmed and clenched down on her fingers, trying so hard to hold off your impending orgasm, trying so hard to be good for mommy.

“I…” It was becoming progressively difficult to breathe, the steam of your heavy, heated breaths fogging up the window beside you. You inhaled deeply, allowing a flurry of words to escape you just as soon as they formed. “Never gonna see her again, m’ all yours mommy, please." The way you pleaded was pitiful, tugging sickly at the dark strings of Wanda’s heart as she hummed, your eyes searching yours to find nothing but blatant honesty and desperation.

Wanda was cruel. She was cruel in the way that she forced you into making a promise never to see the woman again, or any woman other than her as a matter of fact. Her demands were relentless until you were choking on your own pathetic sobs and pleads for a release, for mercy, understanding, anything.

“You can do better than that, can’t you?” A palm reached down to slap your pussy, and she grinned at the dirty sound in which it reverberated. “Nobody could ever fuck your cunt as well as I do. Ain’t that right, princess?” You nodded, tears rolling down your cheeks and framing your jaw like artwork. “Say it.”

“Nobody could fuck me as well as you," you repeated bashfully, nodding your head along with your own words, and Wanda smiled in succession. Not only at the reddening of your tear-stained cheeks or the wet sloshing of your pussy, but at the fact that you meant the words you were saying, you truly believed them. Your eyes squeezed shut in pure ecstasy, and the knot in your stomach was so tight it hurt.

“That’s right. Such a clever girl!” She praised. “Come for me.” You finally came down, convulsing under her touches as she allowed you to ride out your orgasm on her fingers, enjoying every moment that your walls contracted around them, wishing she could capture the feeling and relive it every single day for the rest of eternity. Your eyes felt heavy, and your body remained slack as she kept her fingers inside, every tiny movement of yours reminding you of the way they filled your pussy so deeply, leaving you so full it ached. The feeling made you shiver. You felt a light smack to your cheek and a breathy chuckle from the older woman, whose green eyes shone with lust, corrupted by cruelty, when you met them.

“You’re not tired already, are you, bunny?” You nodded, pouting as she pressed a soft kiss to your temple. You received a lengthy tut as she rubbed your cheek with her thumb to soothe it, the other meeting your sensitive, throbbing clit, eliciting a tiny mewl out of you as she began to circle it again, thumb slipping around due to the slick that coated it. “No, no. We’re not stopping until mommy says so.” You fell against Wanda as her fingers began to slowly pump and curl inside you again, your head hanging limply to rest your forehead on her own.

Your precious, small pants were hot against Wanda’s mouth, and as she finally captured her lips with your own, slow, greedy, wet mouths intertwining and slotting together irrevocably perfectly, tongues meeting and sliding together in pure harmony, she didn’t think she’d ever experienced anything so heavenly.

“Until mommy shows you just how long she’s been wanting to do this.”

And you knew that now, as your skin burned, engulfed in the heat of your CEO’s touches, she was never, ever letting you go.

#i am a changed woman #this fic did so many things to me #literally started levitating while reading this #fic rec #wanda maximoff fanfiction

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cyberslvts · 5 months

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My anime phase was so corny bruh

(it was the happiest time of my life and I haven’t felt the same joy since)

#cyberslvts talks

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cyberslvts · 5 months

Text

Yes the rumors are true I am a humongous slut for toxic wanda

LIFE OF THE PARTY.

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ gif from vanessacarlysle

pairing: frat!wanda maximoff x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ toxic!wanda, innocent!reader, smut, angst :3 alcohol consumption, brief mention of drugs (weed) hate sex kinda, pervy wanda, cunnilingus, sadism, face slapping, dubcon/forced submission, tiny bit of breath play, wanda calls reader “dolly” … think that’s it

word count: 4000+

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Darkened, hooded eyes flickered from the blunt secured by two ring adorned, slender fingers to your figure, watching as you slowly begun to invade her view.

Wanda’s gaze found you immediately. Even with blasting music and strobe lights, she’d always notice you, hear you. She knew environments like these weren’t for good little prudes like you, her point being evidently proven as you practically stuck to Natasha like glue, joint at the hip with stiffened shoulders and a hunched posture, visibly out of place. Wanda faked a pout, even when nobody was watching, at the pathetic, sweet sight of your desperate eyes struggling to find familiarity in such a foreign place.

She’d be right, there was no denying it. The party was extremely out of your comfort zone, and even though your will to stay put and spend your night doing anything else was strong, your best friend Natasha’s persistence was stronger. Somehow, she always managed to bribe you in some way or another, rarely accepting no for an answer. You were rather an underdog, so it didn’t take much for the redhead to convince you to accompany her, even despite your reasonings, which mainly consisted of: “because Wanda’s gonna be there.”

You knew she would be. She was bound to be, as if to torment you. Wanda was well known as “the life of the party,” although you always thought she was rather boring and attended functions halfheartedly. She only really so much as brought weed as an offering, and remained slouched on the same couch smoking it for the remainder of the night as she ogled at anyone and everyone in sight. The only thing anyone really found fun about her was the random suggestion of playing a game that she’d utter out, usually consisting of drinking, which by then, everyone was already half-delirious and easy to please and accepted her offer eagerly.

This didn’t entirely sway Natasha though, as she was both yours and Wanda’s friend, so her response to you only consisted of pleads that you both just get along, for her. “Just for one night.”

So here you were, pawing desperately at Natasha’s waist like a lost child. Wanda hadn’t missed the way you ‘discreetly’ tugged on the hem of your dress in an attempt to cover as much of your ass as you could, finding amusement in the action.

She also knew that you hadn’t had much of a say in the outfit you were wearing, rather racy and revealing, compared to the clothes you usually wear. Her eyes raked over the smooth of your thighs that were barely covered by lacy, knee-high stockings to the skin of your ass, nibbling on her bottom lip as she unashamedly gawked. Lastly, they travelled to your chest, smirking at the cute little bow placed delicately where the valley of your breasts lay, before they locked onto your own.

Wanda hadn’t known when you noticed her presence, but quite frankly, she didn’t care. She only held the stare, watching in amusement as you trembled slightly under her piercing gaze. You hadn’t missed the way she was checking you out, your cheeks flushing at the sudden, undivided attention. Wanda made you extremely nervous, not only in the way that she treated you, but her cold eyes that peeked through thick coats of black eyeliner.

“Y/N?” the soft coo of your name forced you to break eye contact with Wanda, head snapping to meet the sound of Natasha’s voice before glancing over once more, only to find her eyes were no longer lingering on you, but the blunt in her hands as she was accompanied by one of her friends. You looked over to Natasha, who was offering a kind smile, and you could only smile back. “You okay? You seemed a little spaced out there,” Her eyebrows furrowed in concern. You nodded quickly.

You didn’t catch how Wanda’s eyes found you again, rolling them at the sight of your wide smile, allowing yourself to be squeezed into the side of Natasha, still as sweet, and amiable as usual, despite the uncomfortable situation you’d been put in. Your interminable kindliness frustrated her. The purity you held became something she often taunted you for, insulting your chastity and using it as an excuse to belittle you.

So pure, fragile, and corruptible innocent. It only fuelled her desire to want to take you into experienced hands and mould you into something entirely sinful. Wanda hadn’t realised the grip she had on her bottle until the rings on her hands begun to dig into pale fingers, releasing it from her tight grip and taking it down her throat in an attempt to clear her head of you.

౨ৎ ₊˚

You fiddled with the bones of your fingers as you found yourself seated with a large group of people in a circle, playing ‘put a finger down.’ You hadn’t known at what point you’d ended up in this situation, but all you did know was that you were practically sitting on Natasha’s lap, seeking some form of comfort from her as your heart raced at the thought of playing one of the brunette’s infamous party games — especially with her.

You were the only one who hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, so being surrounded by drunken sorority members only furthered your nerves. You nudged Natasha’s arm. “Natty,” you whined, pouting up at her in desperation, “You know I’m gonna lose this. Can’t I just opt out?” Your nose scrunched at the smell of Smirnoff that caked her breath when she spoke.

“You’ll be fine. Just lie.” And so you did, holding up five fingers, to Wanda’s surprise, awaiting further instruction. Her own ring-clad hand mirrored yours, the other playing with the cap of the bottle she was holding. A smirk tugged at Wanda’s lips at your participation. “Maximoff,” Natasha addressed the girl with a light-tipped smile. “Why don’t you start us off?”

A long hum was heard from Wanda. She looked directly at you. It made you shiver. “Never have I ever…” she begun, straightening in her seat. Your eyes couldn’t help but fall to the necklaces that swung and clinked together softly at the movement, the pendant happening to sit between her breasts, forcing you to tear your eyes away again in embarrassment. “Gotten drunk.”

You knew the question was too tame to be aimed at anybody else in the room but you, and your cheeks flushed as you glanced around to see everyone’s fingers down but your own. Your eyes flickered to your lap, avoiding the Sokovian’s hard gaze.

“Prude,” was all that came from Wanda’s mouth, sniggering at the amount of fingers you still had up, finding it so apparently funny that she decided to bring light to the fact, highlighting your humiliation. Your eyebrows knitted together in offence.

“M’ not a prude,” you mumbled, oh, so quietly, hoping not to draw unwanted attention to yourself any further than she already had.

“Oh, she can talk.” Your throat bobbed as you sallowed thickly, wanting only to curl up into Natasha’s lap and hide, but you stood your ground with the small, remaining slither of confidence you had left in you.

“Stop being so mean.” The corners of your lips were downturned, opposing to Wanda’s, which had been pulled into a cocky smirk for the past ten minutes. “Why are you so mean?”

“Why are you so sensitive?” She retorted, taunting you before bringing the rim of the bottle to her lips and taking a sip from it. The tips of your ears felt hot from both frustration and nerves as you squeezed your best friend’s arm.

“Next question,” Natasha interrupted, clearing her throat as she intervened. Both you and Wanda remained silent for a while, slowly beginning to enjoy the game and the partygoers company as time passed and the questions became more risqué.

“Never have I ever had sex.” A male’s voice boomed, slurring his words. You rolled your eyes at the typicality of the question, but you played along anyway, putting your finger down this time. You hadn’t heard a peep from the brunette until now, eyebrows raising as she scoffed.

“I beg to differ.” You huffed at Wanda’s remark, upset at the power she had to instantly ruin the fun you were having, any signs of you loosening up being rid as you tensed your shoulders. You were beginning to grow tired of her petty insults and comments thrown your way during the game. She was right, you were a virgin, but you took Natasha’s words into account from earlier, and figured a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anyone. Boy were you wrong.

“God, Wanda, would you just give it a rest?” You exclaimed, and you heard various groans at the consistent bickering between the two of you. Natasha had tried to intervene, but you only pulled away from her touch, standing on slightly wobbly knees. “Why do you always do this? Ruin my fun, call me names, belittle me. I’ve been nothing but nice to you, why are you so mean?” You repeated yourself from earlier, nostrils flared as you spoke.

Confrontation wasn’t exactly your strong suit, but you continued anyway, clenching shaky hands into fists. Wanda’s face instantly hardened, smirk dropping as did the muscles of her eyebrows. It became increasingly difficult to continue, feeling entirely small beneath her gaze, like a deer in headlights.

“I mean, I knew you were an asshole, but not this much of one.” Wanda looked scary. You noticed how slender fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle, squeezing it as she did previously in the night, and the way her cheeks hollowed out slightly as her jaw clenched.

You waited and waited anxiously for a reply, but all that was heard were a mixture of mumbles and faint, hushed giggles sound the room. You sighed, turning to round the large sofa as you made a beeline for the stairs, heels clicking against the hardwood. You slipped into a vacant-looking bedroom and softly pushed the door closed behind you, sitting yourself unsteadily onto a nearby chair. You were stupid for expecting even a half-decent reply from the brunette. Her words rang in your ears as you repeated them in your head, over and over, frowning at her cruelty. A few minutes went by, though they felt like decades as you heard footsteps approach the room you were in, the door creaking open ever so slightly.

“You can come in, Natty,” you mumbled, standing from the seat to admit her, but as you looked to the door, what you didn’t expect was to be met with a pair of verdant, half-lidded eyes, slightly puffy and red due to the joint she’d been smoking earlier. Any emotion other than nerves had now escaped you entirely, taking a few steps back to distance yourself from the Sokovian. She flashed a lazy, smug grin, shutting the door behind her and locking it quickly, all while not taking her eyes off of you. Each step you took backward, she followed, slowly inching you into a corner - unbeknownst to you.

“What do you want?” you finally spoke, the silence so loud it hurt, becoming further unbearable. Wanda span silver rings around her fingers, sauntering toward you, as one predator would do prey.

“You look good tonight,” she disregarded your question entirely, eyes raking up and down your trembling frame, as she did earlier. “All dolled up,” Her lips twitched. “It’s a shame you have to ruin it with that bratty little attitude.”

“You’re one to talk.” you spat, trying to speak with confidence as best as you could. Wanda’s eyes glistened in amusement at the wobbliness of your voice. She tilted her head.

“Not my fault you can’t take a joke.” She teased, wetting the skin of her lips with her tongue. The irritating, shit eating grin on her face never leaving its place.

You grimaced. “Fuck you, Wanda.”

There were a few beats of silence, and then she spoke.

“Mm, you wish, huh?” Your heart felt as if it had stopped, and your eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” you scowled, so much distaste plastered on your face, so much of it, to hide the emotions blooming from the pit of your stomach, rushing to the skin of your cheeks, heating them up molten at the statement. You knew exactly what.

Wanda grinned. She was enjoying this.

“Don’t play dumb,” her accent was thick now, taking you aback slightly as only having heard slithers of it before. “I’ve seen you,” she began to walk closer, stalking, capturing you, “I’ve seen the way you look at me. Eye-fuckin’ me - practically drooling over me.” She smirked as she watched your eyes widen, stumbling backwards to hit the back of a wall.

“Yeah, you’re a little fuckin’ perv, aren’t you?” You didn’t think your face could possibly get any hotter. You shook your head frantically, eyes squeezing shut in a desperate attempt to gather your thoughts, the sound of Wanda’s voice making your head swim. “T-That’s not true,” It was. Your breath caught in your throat when you opened your eyes to meet Wanda’s face only inches from your own.

Wanda hummed, your words falling on deaf ears as she continued. “You act all sweet ‘n innocent with that cute little facade of yours,” Wanda towered over you. “But I know what you are. I know what you need,” She nodded her head, a darkened smile appearing evident on her face. You were completely enveloped in her presence, consumed entirely by Wanda. Coherent thoughts were beginning to become difficult to find as she continued.

“I think,” green eyes bored into your face, the heat of her body when you touched pelvis’s eliciting a tiny mewl from your throat. “That filthy little mouth of yours needs something to busy itself with.”

She snaked her hands around the back of your head to thread svelte fingers through your hair. Wanda’s own words gave her a rather sinful idea, one she couldn’t bring herself to pass up.

“So why don’t you stop being such a prude n’ eat me out, hm?” You panted at the thought, crude words forcing a blush to paint your cheeks as your knees buckled. “I know you want to.” She said in a sing-song voice, fingers travelling from the nape of your neck to your shoulders as she pushed you down to your knees, revelling in the wince you let out when your bare knees hit the floor.

She peered down at you, frowning when you didn’t move. “Eat my fuckin’ pussy, dolly.”

She gripped your hair in her left hand, holding it firmly in place as she slapped your face with her right. Tears brimmed your eyes at the harshness of her actions and the stinging feeling that came before you heard the smack. She let up, pleased with her work as she hiked her red dress up to her waist, creamy thighs on display. You shuddered at the sight.

She slapped you again, only lightly this time, as if to encourage you. “C’mon,” she groaned, unable to hide the growing desperation in her voice, coming out slightly whiny, “I don’t have all night.”

You finally begun to move, shaky hands reaching up to touch her, still holding your head tightly in place. Your hands met the soft skin of her thighs, and you felt like you were dreaming. You peered up at her through wet eyelashes, gulping at the way her teeth caught her bottom lip at your touch.

You felt a warning tug in your hair, one to hurry you along. Your fingers hooked around the band of her underwear, gasping as you watched how the fabric clung to the wet lips of Wanda’s pussy. Her underwear pooled around her ankles, revealing an entirely soaked cunt, and your own walls clenched at the thought of Wanda finding arousal in the pain she’d inflicted on you.

You swallowed thickly, swiftly coming to terms with your inexperience as your eyes remained locked onto Wanda’s core. “I- I don’t know what I’m doing,” you muttered, speaking quietly as not to embarrass yourself too much.

Wanda only smirked, inhaling softly before saying, “I know. I’ll tell you what to do, just do what I say.”

And so you did. She pushed your head towards her growing heat, your eyes fluttering closed as the sweet scent of Wanda invaded your nostrils. “Stick your tongue out.” She instructed coldly, softly, smiling down in awe at your submission when you did as told. “Good girl.” She massaged your scalp in reward, and you moaned out at both Wanda’s touch and praise. “Now, push it into my pussy, till it feels nice and wet.” You nodded, causing Wanda to groan when your nose rubbed briefly on her puffy clit as you did so.

Wanda’s hum quickly turned into a lengthy moan as she felt your slippery tongue finally meet her cunt, gripping the hair at your scalp almost excruciatingly.

Your movements were sloppy at first, dragging the wet muscle along her folds, moving up and down, curiously exploring each and every inch of her. Albeit, Wanda quickly took charge of you, angling you just right so as your tongue lapped up the wetness that lay at her entrance, and your nose bumped against her clit perfectly.

You allowed her to take control, basking in the sweet, tangy taste of her as she practically rode your face, rolling her hips against your mouth, one hand still bunching up the fabric of her skirt. She was practically using you for her pleasure, drawling at the sensation as she began to feel the knot in the pit of her stomach gradually tighten. Wanda chuckled through a grunt, eyebrows knitting together as she attempted to focus on what she wanted to say.

“If I knew,” she began through pants and tiny moans, “That this whole time, all your pretty mouth needed was a cunt to shut it up, I would’ve done this a long time ago.” Your clit throbbed at the statement, a part of you in disbelief that she’d wanted to do this for so long. Wanda’s words were mind-numbing, your head cloudy as you worked your tongue faster. Soft “mmph,” sounds escaped her lips as she rutted against you, using your head entirely as leverage, and they only encouraged you to get her off better.

Despite Wanda’s grip, you angled your head so as your lips were aligned with her clit, before wrapping your lips around the swollen bud and sucking softly. She choked on a silent cry, still grinding, still humping fervently, Wanda’s sopping hole now rubbing against your chin. It was filthy, really, but neither of you seemed to care as Wanda’s clit pulsated deliciously around your lips, throwing her head back at the sensation. You experimentally flicked your tongue around it a few times, moaning against her at the breathy, high-pitched sound that escaped chewed lips. The vibration only sent the brunette into overdrive, black eyeliner smudging around her blown out pupils, eyes glued shut.

The feeling of Wanda’s walls fluttering against you was something you knew you’d become quickly addicted to, taking in every second of such a forbidden activity disguised with hatred and loathing.

“Juuust like that, fuck,” Wanda purred, necklaces jingling together as she bucked her hips, body jolting forward, feeling the knot begin to quickly unravel in her stomach. “Gonna make me fuckin’ cum,” She whined, panting between sentences, nearing her high faster by every second.

A string of barely coherent words left her mouth in a flurry, “Gonna cum in your stupid fuckin’ mouth,” Usually, her harsh words would offend you, but now, they only made the ache between your thighs worse as you sucked harder at the threat, forcing a long moan out out of her, head dizzy.

“N’ you’re gonna take it all, aren’t you?” She peered down to meet your eyes, glazed over and teary as your tongue worked wonders on her clit. You struggled to nod in response, being practically suffocated by Wanda’s thighs, and your heart began to race in brief panic. Your hands reached up to grip at her thighs, but she quickly slapped them away, growling at your action. She cocked a brow at your widened eyes and slightly flushed face.

You took her moment of weakness as an opportunity to eventually pull away, gasping for oxygen as your lungs burned. “W-Wands,” you whimpered through gulps of air, “Can’t breathe…”

Wanda hissed at the disruption. “Don’t care,” was all she said, pushing your head back so that her thighs engulfed you once again, entirely. “Fuckin’ take it like I told you to.” You remained silent, allowing your vision to become fuzzy, mind emptying completely under Wanda’s instruction. You could only obey, cheeks burning at the lewd sounds of suckling and squelching that sounded the room. Faint music was heard downstairs, the party being entirely forgotten about by the two of you as you kneeled, all-consumed by eachother.

Wanda propped her elbows at her hips to hold up her dress, using both fists to find stability as she gasped, body convulsing. You felt her movements become lazier, before suddenly halting, feeling a warm, thick liquid gush into your mouth and coat your tongue, doing your best to gratefully swallow every single remnant she offers you.

You stared up at her and watched as she came, admiring the way Wanda’s mouth fell agape, eyes half-lidded, barely staying open as her eyebrows knitted together. You allowed her to ride out her high, panting as she stilled for a moment, heart racing rapidly.

Your forehead rested lazily on the skin of her upper thigh, allowing yourself to catch your breath. Wanda sighed, a familiar sound, as half-lidded eyes remained trained on your slightly trembling body, as if you were in Wanda’s shoes. She nudged you, gently, forcing you to look up at her, and cupped your jaw in her hand briefly, rubbing her thumb against the soft skin of your cheek before pulling both her hand and herself away. You frowned.

“Aren’t you gonna stay?” You questioned, your heart feeling suddenly extremely heavy as you watched her readjust her dress, smoothing the fabric of it down.

Wanda shook her head, brunette locks moving with it as she ran her hands through them in an attempt to fix her appearance. She smiled down at the wetness that glistened on your lips, swiping her thumb along them before taking it into her mouth and sucking. She hummed pleasantly. You could only blink back at her, heart stinging slightly at the knowledge of her upcoming absence.

“Why?” your eyebrows furrowed, eyes darting between the both of hers, left to right, as if you were trying to search for an answer somewhere deep inside of her, somewhere hidden from plain sight.

Her lips tightened into a thin line. “M’ sorry, I can’t.” She mumbled, pulling her underwear back up. Anger begun to bubble up inside of you just as quickly as it left. Her tone was devoid of any emotion, casted back to how it was when she insulted you downstairs.

“But why? Why won’t you?” the tone of your voice held clear frustration. Her evident carelessness made you feel like an idiot. You bit the inside of your cheeks to stop your voice from breaking.

Wanda stood in the centre of the room, weight leaning on one hip as she sighed. "Listen, you know this wasn't anything serious, right?" Her expression was earnest, needing you to understand. "Just a one time thing?" Her eyes swirled with something unrecognizable, almost as if she cared.

Wanda’s gaze lingered on you for a few seconds longer, studying your reaction, before taking out a pre-rolled joint and lighting it. A smug grin washed over her face, placing the joint between her lips and talking through slightly muffled lips. “But with that mouth?” She chuckled, “I wouldn’t mind round two,” And just like that, any compassion Wanda previously held for you, completely disappeared.

You could only stare back at her in disbelief, eyeing the joint between painted black fingernails as she inhaled. “You’re an asshole,” You said bitterly, finally steadying yourself onto your feet. “I never, wanna do this with you again.” That was partly true. If it weren’t for Wanda’s entirely dreadful personality, you would’ve jumped at the opportunity.

Wanda bit her lip, her expression pitiful, but you knew it was pretend. Everything about Wanda was pretend. “Oh, please.” She scoffed, “You won't last a day without wanting me back," Wanda stated matter-of-factly, cruelly. Your cheeks burned in both fury and humiliation.

"Yes, I will. Watch me." You bit back, fuelled by anger, and lust, and confusion, and desperation.

“There she is,” She flashed a toothy grin at your words, finding your comments rather amusing. “You’re cute when you’re mad, dolly.”

Silence fell as she left you with your lips parted, standing in complete shock. Wanda stood at the door, fingers hovering over the lock. “You don’t have to, you know.” Your eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. “What?”

“You don’t have to devoid yourself of me.” Wanda shrugged. “Like I said, I’m always open for round two,” She smirked as she turned the lock, not allowing you to get a word out before exiting.

You stood, bewildered, the only evidence of Wanda remaining being her wetness that coated your chin and the thin line of smoke that trailed out of the door.

You could feel the dull ache still prominent between your legs, groaning at the feeling of being left unsatisfied. Your mind began to wander, wondering what it’d be like if you did see her again.

Maybe you’d have to take Wanda up on that offer.

Maybe.

+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ .

#wanda maximoff #fic rec

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cyberslvts · 5 months

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I have been watching markiplier fnaf gameplay videos this whole entire break non stop

#i dont even play fanf #what is happening to me #its literally an illness atp

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cyberslvts · 6 months

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𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —☾

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅

✧ ONESHOTS

Deprived 18+ || Following the events in Westview, wanda, obsessed and unhinged, becomes determined to get you back.

Pas de deux || You grapple with the intensity with your feelings for Wanda, and through a powerful dance your love and longing for one another are vividly unveiled

Phone 18+ || You call your wife and decide to show her just how much you miss her.

✧ SERIES

Sweet Talker 18+ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

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cyberslvts · 6 months

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PAS DE DEUX || w.maximoff

Summary you grapple with the intensity with your feelings for Wanda and through a powerful dance your love and longing for one another are vividly unveiled

Warnings: angst, brief arguing, happy endings, kissing, forbidden love, allusions to homophobia, secret romance, my fav sappic balerinas, they r so cute im gonna sob!!

Pairing: ballerinaWanda! x ballerina!reader

WC: 3.5k

Note: this was sm fun to write i am obsessed

———

In the heart of the cold city, hidden behind a façade of faded grandeur, stood the enigmatic Thornfield School of Ballet. Within its dimly lit corridors and ornate ballrooms, the ethereal art of ballet was practiced with an intensity that mirrored the shadows that danced upon the walls. It was here that you found solace, your delicate movements and haunting grace resonating with the melancholic melodies that echoed through the grand hallways.

The Thornfield Opera House stood silent and grand, its vast expanse illuminated only by the silvery glow of the moon filtering through the tall, arched windows. The night felt like it swallowed you. The silence and loneliness of the dark gave you a heightened sense of focus. Dressed in a simple leotard and ballet skirt, you moved gracefully to the center of the stage. The empty red velvet seats, normally bustling with anticipation, now looked like slumbering sentinels in the darkness.

You were a brilliant and elegant dancer, the prima ballerina of the Thornfield Ballet School. Your every step seemed to weave magic, casting a spell over the audience with each performance. The years of training and dedication cultivated you so that you weren't just a dancer but a conduit for the very essence of the art form.

A sigh escaped your lips as you raised your arms, the opening strains of a haunting melody filled your ears. The music existed within the depths of your memory, each note etched into your soul. It was a melody only you could hear, a secret dance between you and the music of your heart.

With a deep breath, you began to move. Each step was deliberate, each extension of your limbs an expression of the emotions that swirled within you. The moonlight cast delicate shadows that danced along with you, a spectral audience that whispered its approval in the rustling of fabric

Your body twisted and turned across the stage and the opera house felt as if it came alive around you. The soft echos of your footfalls echoed throughout the grand hall, filling the space with a magical resonance.

The empty velvet red chairs surrounded you, blurring into a hue of gold and scarlet as you spun and twirled across the stage. The spotlight illuminated your form, casting long, enchanting shadows that stretched toward the edges of the grand hall. Your body seemed to merge with the haunting music, each note a whispered secret between you and the piano keys

You imagined thousands of eyes on you, each one locked in a mesmerizing trance that only you could break. You lost yourself in the dance, completely surrendering yourself to the music's embrace.

The final strains of the music echoed through the hall, and you froze in a final, breathtaking pose. The world felt like it held its breath for a moment before a figure emerged from the shadows of the audience.

“You know I don't like it when you come and watch me unannounced”

You spoke into the dark crowd. You didn't even need to see her to know who she was. A vibrant flash of red hair was illuminated by the spotlight as she stepped onto the stage.

“You’re glowing my love, How could I not stay and watch” she voiced, coming across the stage, wanting to be closer to you.

Wanda Maximoff, the embodiment of enigmatic allure, graced the Thornfield Opera House with a presence that demanded attention. With each step she took, the air seemed to shift around her, charged with an energy that was at once magnetic and captivating. A vibrant mane of crimson hair framed her face like a fiery halo, accentuating her aura of intensity.

As one of Thornfield's top dancers, Wanda's brilliance on stage was undeniable. Her movements bore the hallmark of a maestro, each gesture calculated and precise, cutting through the air like a sharpened blade. her performances left an indelible mark on the hearts of those who witnessed them.

The contrast between your styles was like a beautifully orchestrated duet: While you danced with the gentle grace of a waltz, guided by the melodies that flowed through your soul, Wanda's dance was a tempestuous tango, a dance with the shadows and the edge of passion. Her movements were sharper, her steps darker, and her presence engulfed the stage like a storm, leaving no corner untouched by her intensity.

Where your dance was a soothing balm, Wanda's was a consuming fire. Your elegance and grace resonated like a sonnet, whereas Wanda's movements told a story of calculated power. In your delicate pirouettes and fluid arabesques, there was a serenity that brought solace to the heart, like a gentle lullaby. But in Wanda's commanding leaps and controlled spins, there was a darkness that beckoned, a realm where passion and pain coexisted.

Wanda Maximoff, with her entrancing presence and mesmerizing dance, had woven her way into your heart in ways you never imagined. From the first time you saw her onstage, you were already hers. The secret romance that blossomed between you two was a delicate tapestry of stolen glances, secret rendezvous, and the softest of touches. Your attachment to her felt like poisonous vines, both intoxicating and dangerous. Squeezing around your heart until there was no escaping its grip.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the intensity of your feelings for Wanda began to stir a twinge of fear deep within you. The opera house, was a haven for your love, a place where you and Wanda could share stolen moments in the shadows. Yet, the world outside those walls was a different story altogether.

The truth was, relationships like yours and Wanda's were not welcomed with open arms within the confines of Thornfield. The Society's rigid expectations and conservative norms casted a long shadow over any love that dared to deviate from the conventional path. If your feelings were exposed, you both knew that you would face the harsh reality of ostracization. Given your elevated position within the ballet company, the fallout could be even more devastating. You yearned to dance freely with Wanda, to hold her close without the weight of hidden affections, but the thought of the world discovering your love kept you trapped in a ruthless cycle of avoidance.

As she began to approach you, you instinctively turned away, a motion that caused a flicker of hurt to cross Wanda's expression. Her smile faltered, and you silently crossed the stage, heading toward the speaker in order to switch to a different song.

“I need to practice, Wanda,” you spoke without facing her, hoping she would take the hint to leave you.

"You've been avoiding me," she suddenly declared, her voice ringing out in the open space. She came to a halt at the center stage, her gaze fixed firmly on your form. The intensity of her eyes holding you in place.

The intimacy you shared with her had grown to such profound heights that the mere thought of it sent shivers down your spine. Each stolen kiss and every whispered promise felt like a thread connecting you to a love that was becoming too powerful to be contained. And so, you found yourself avoiding her, retreating into the shadows like a fragile creature seeking solace from the storm.

In your heart, you knew that Wanda sensed your distance, your absence from her side even in a crowded room. The weight of your unspoken emotions was presence, that casted a shadow over your every interaction. She, with her intuitive nature, surely understood that something was wrong, even if the words went unspoken.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Wanda," you deflected, your voice tinged with a hint of unease.

“Yes, you do.” Her strides toward you were purposeful, carrying an air of frustration and longing

“You've stopped meeting me in the garden. you leave your door locked at night. You won't even look at me during rehearsal.” The light in her eyes dimmed, mirroring the distance that had inadvertently arisen. She, no doubt, grappled with the same intensity of your connection, the love that had burgeoned between you.

The guilt gnawed at you, knowing that Wanda deserved more than your silence, more than your hesitation. She deserved the world, and yet here you were, your heart caught in a tug-of-war between your love for her and the fear that had taken root within you.

"I've just been busy," you offered, your voice lacking the conviction it needed. The truth was, you couldn't bring yourself to lie, especially not to Wanda. Without meeting her gaze, you brushed past her, your eyes fixed on the sea of empty chairs as you prepared for the next song.

"Just as I said, I need to practice. I don't have time for this," you continued, your words slightly rushed, a veil of anxiety underscoring them. The show was fast approaching, and the pressure weighed heavily on you. "The performance is on Friday, and I barely have my part of the pas de deux down, and—"

"Fine then, I'll stay and help you," she interrupted, her voice carrying an unwavering determination. Wanda understood you better than anyone else. She knew that ballet was your lifeblood, your very essence. If that was the avenue she had to take to reach you, then so be it.

As the music began to fade in, she moved closer, bridging the gap between you. You stared at her, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty in your eyes. Was she serious?

Although Wanda wasn't your official partner in the pas de deux, her innate talent and brilliance made it easy for her to memorize the choreography. She had watched the routine countless times, During rehearsals, you'd often catch her gaze fixed on you, burning ache evident in her eyes. You wished it was her presence by your side, her soft, delicate hands on you, instead of the rough masculine ones whisking you through the air.

She took your hand in hers, her touch a warm reassurance that sent a shiver down your spine. You glanced at her one last time before the dance commenced, your movements seeming almost too deliberate, lacking the usual fluidity that came so naturally to you. Every step felt calculated as if you were trying to maintain a distance that your heart was struggling to obey. Wanda's gaze, however, remained fixed on you, unwavering and intense.

With each movement, her eyes searched yours, probing for answers to the questions you hadn't voiced. The emotions that played across her face were a silent plea, a desperate attempt to understand the reason behind your avoidance. Yet, even as you tried to keep your focus on the dance, the intensity of her gaze was a distraction you couldn't escape.

“Relax,” Wanda's voice cut through the tension, her hands on your waist guiding your movements. Your arms extended gracefully on each side, and your toes pointed delicately against the smooth wooden stage

In that instant, Wanda's movements shifted, becoming more edged and intense. She led you through a series of intricate steps, each one a silent declaration of her love and devotion to you. As the music swelled, your bodies came alive, moving in perfect synchrony. You began with a series of intertwining pirouettes, your movements mirroring Wandas with an effortless harmony. With every rotation, your eyes met briefly, a fleeting connection that spoke volumes beyond words.

You battled with your own emotions, your heart warring with your mind. You were determined to maintain the distance you believed was necessary to protect yourself and Wanda from the intensity of your shared feelings. The love you felt for her was a tempestuous sea, and you feared being swept away by its currents.

Yet, As you moved as one there was an undeniable chemistry, an untamed force driving you towards her. Her eyes followed your every move, filled with a love that yearned to be free from constraints.

Wanda's touch was gentle yet firm, her hands on your waist guiding your movements with a confidence that only came from a deep understanding. As you twirled and spun, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a realm where the intensity of your love was matched only by the beauty of your dance.

When the music built to its crescendo, Wanda's grip on you tightened her touch a grounding force in the midst of your internal storm. And in that final, breathtaking pose, as the music lingered in the air, your eyes locked onto each other's, a world of unspoken words passing between you.

As your heavy breathing slowed, the moment was broken when you turned away, walking out of her embrace,

“Why won't you just let me love you,” her voice echoed in the space, a plea that hung in the air like an unanswered question.

"Because I can't, Wanda," You whispered, your voice tinged with a hint of sadness. The reality of the situation weighed heavily, the knowledge that your love existed in a world that did not understand.

“Yes, you can” she countered, coming closer to you.

“People will find out. And when they find out theyll talk.” you exasperated, The weight of the world's judgment pressed down on you, suffocating the love that burned within you.

Wanda turned to face you, her expression determined. "Then hide me. Lock me away from the world if you have to," She breathed out, her voice carrying a plea that mirrored the depth of her feelings. She was willing to sacrifice her visibility, her place in the world, if it meant keeping your love intact. “I just want to be with you Y/n. Why can't you see that?”

It was your deep affection for her that filled you with guilt, knowing that she deserved better than waht you were giving her. You believed she deserved someone who would cherish her openly, free from the shackles of secrecy that bound your love. Wanda's passion, her unwavering commitment, made your heart ache with love for her, but it also filled you with an overwhelming sense of guilt. You loved her so much that it hurt, and you wanted nothing more than to see her happy.

“I can't do that to you, Wanda.” Guilt welled up inside you, emotions spilling over like a river bursting its banks. “You deserve to be with someone different. Someone who can love you without fear.”

“But I don't want that!” Her breathing was heavy and her, eyes burned with anger. "I am yours, Y/n," she declared, her voice sharp with passion. "All I want in return is your love, And you can't even give me that.”

You noticed how her bottom lip pushed out ever so slightly, just like it always did when she was trying not to cry.

The pain of your recent avoidance cut deep into her heart, leaving a constant ache that refused to subside. All she wanted was you, all she ever wanted was you, and your unmistakable withdrawal over the past few months had left her feeling lost in a suffocating pit of self-doubt. Why were you so eager to get away from her? Why couldn't she make you stay, even when she had tried her hardest? Was she not good enough to hold your attention?

These questions ate away at her and she had never felt so small, like an insignificant fragment in a world that once felt whole.

“You ignore me and push me away without any explanation.” Her voice was loud as it echoed across the stage. The hurt and insecurity painted on her face. “You're always leaving me. It's like you don't even care about my feelings!”

“Of course I care about your feelings” You turned to her, your own anger begining to rise up inside you. “You’re all I think about, everything I do is for you!”

Every choice you had made was for Wanda, every step you had taken was to protect her from the storm that could come crashing down upon you both. Your love was genuine, but the fear was suffocating, threatening to eclipse everything

"You think this isn't hard for me?" your voice cracked with frustration, your eyes blazing with a mixture of emotions. "I am terrified, Wanda. Every time I see you or feel you, it's like I'm drowning in the fear of what could happen.”

"You make me feel things I never wanted to feel," your breath came out in rapid bursts, as your vision became clouded by tears. "And I'm afraid that those feelings will be written all over me,” Your emotions began to feel overwhelming, the room closing in around you, suffocating you with its walls and the weight of your fear. “So this is the only way I know how to keep us safe, to keep you safe." Your words were punctuated by a sob, choked and raw. The walls you had erected were crumbling, and you were left standing bare before Wanda.

“and It's hard Wanda, it's so fucking hard. I miss you, all the time.” the confession tumbled out, your voice breaking as tears cascaded down your cheeks, the floodgates finally opening.

At the sight of your panicked tears, Wanda immediately rushed to you, her steps were loud across the stage until she caught you in her embrace, wrapping her arms around you in a warm, comforting hold, Wishing she could take away all the pain and fear you felt at that moment.

“Im sorry, Im sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to yell.” The tenderness in her voice was like a soothing balm, her arms holding you even tighter, as you fell into her body.

"I can’t-” You gasped, The fabric of her shirt absorbed the tears that fell from your eyes, “I cant loose you wanda”

The sobs that wracked your body were a release, a catharsis of emotions that had been pent up for far too long.

“You’re not. You are absolutely not losing me,” she reassured you, her words slightly muffled as she pressed kisses to your tear-stained cheeks. You instinctively clung onto her, worried she would disappear.

With her arms wrapped around you, Wanda's touch became your anchor. Her hands moved in tender circles on your back, a gesture of comfort that sent ripples of calm through your frazzled nerves. At that moment, the world seemed to blur and fade, leaving only the two of you cocooned in an intimate haven of solace

Your heartbeat slowed and your breathing relaxed against her. Her breath brushed against your ear, her voice was a gentle whisper, "I can't be without you, y/n" she admitted, spilling out the truths in her heart. “I know you're scared but please don't push me away.” The tenderness in her voice deepened as she continued, her words a balm to your fears. “I don't know what will happen in the future but I can swear to you that im not going anywhere.”

In those words, a sense of solace enveloped you, like a gentle embrace for your weary heart. With her by your side, the fear that had kept you captive began to lose its grip, replaced by a flicker of hope and the reassurance that you didn't have to carry the burden alone.

“Im sorry I avoided you” You whispered not bringing your gaze up to face Wanda as if you were hiding from your actions. “I was awful. I should have just talked to you.”

Wanda brought her hand to your chin tilting your face up until your eyes met hers.

"It's okay, I know you're trying to protect us both," she said softly, her voice carrying a weight of sincerity. "But you don't have to do it alone. Whatever happens, We can face it together."

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting Wanda's words melt into your skin. The attentiveness of her understanding touched you deeply, and You started to wonder how you could ever be away from her.

“I love you, so much,” you confessed hoping she could feel your sincerity “And i’m so sorry that I ever made you feel like I didnt.”

Her relief evident in her smile. She cupped your face, her touch grounding you in the present moment. Wanda leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a sweet kiss.

“I love you, more than you could ever know.”

In that stolen moment on the stage, beneath the watchful eyes of the empty velvet seats, your love was a dance in itself – a dance of vulnerability and strength, of passion and tenderness. And as you held each other close, you knew that the opera house, with all its secrets and faded grandeur, held a space where your love could flourish, defying the boundaries of time and circumstance.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x y/n #marvel #elizabeth olsen #fanfic #angst #ballet #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction

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