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maximoffwitch · 9 days

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🥵😮‍💨 this is SO hot but also like so tender i am obsessed

Lykirī

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), handjob, we ride him bitches, dom/sub tones if you squint

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

Author's note: an early Christmas gift for those who celebrate!! For those who don't, just a regular smutty piece. This was based on a request where wife!reader rides Aemond. Merry Aemondmas :)

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @chompchompluke @arcielee

"You are to marry the King's second son. Prince Aemond Targaryen."

Those were your father's words. Your sister had looked at you almost with pity and a hint of relief since that fate had befallen you and not her. You had simply nodded, accepting the fate decided by your father, just as thousands of other daughters before and after you would have done.

Your mother had come to comb your hair before going to bed, and without much ado, she had told you what would happen after the wedding, after the banquet.

"All you have to do is try to relax your nerves, and I promise it will be less painful.”

The thought had stuck in your brain until the wedding day. And the aura emanating from the prince didn't help. He was stoic to the point of looking like a statue, his posture rigid as a spindle, and there was something unsettling about him that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand when he took your hand to recite the wedding vows. Fear, but also a foreign giddiness prickling your skin upon feeling his calloused fingers around yours.

The banquet had not helped either. Prince Aegon had behaved like a court jester, drinking to the point of wondering how he could stand upright, poking his brother with cruel jokes about his eye and a whore who had made Aemond a man many years before.

You didn’t know what kind of unpleasant memories your good-brother had just summoned in his brother’s mind. That woman and her cheap perfume, that way it had clung to his skin, to his thoughts for days after his only ever trip to Flea Bottom.

Then the elder Prince had approached you with his breath stinking of Dornish and it was then that Prince Aemond broke his icy silence, standing up abruptly and looking down at you. "Come, wife. It is time for us to retire."

Prince Aegon had clapped his hands as if in front of a hilarious show, saying "Finally some fun! The bedding!"

The entire crowd present at the banquet had escorted you to the prince's chambers. The servants had removed your dress, leaving you in your underskirts; you had unconsciously covered your chest, crossing your arms to hide from the greedy eyes of the men peering in the doorway, Prince Aegon in the front row with yet another cup of wine clutched between his fingers.

Master Mellos invited you to lie down on the bed, and you obeyed, swallowing, while a host of servants shielded you from view as the Maester made his humiliating inspection.

"All is in order, your Graces," the Master informed the Prince and Queen. And that was enough for Aemond to completely slip the iron mask off his face and go straight to the door. "The show is over. Get out."

"Oh, come on, little brother. Let me watch, at least. I could give you some tips."

Aemond had towered over his brother, and from your seat on the bed, you were able to see the eldest brother shrinking by the moment. "This is not some common whore you're speaking of.” Aemond seethed “She is my wife, and you will owe her the respect she deserves. One more lewd word from your mouth, and I will rip your tongue with my bare hands. Am I being clear?”

"Gods, brother, are you already so cunt-struck?"

He never got an answer, only the door being slammed right into his face.

You stood in the middle of the room, torturing your hands as he looked at you from the door. He seemed unsure of what to do, until he cleared his throat and took a few tentative steps in the room.

“You could have some wine, if you wish. It may…help you.” He said, but as he said this, he seemed to regret his own words, given how his mouth twitched as if he had just tasted something sour. Memories could come just like that, sudden and sour.

“You must relax, my prince. Have some wine, maybe? No need to worry, I will take care of you just as a prince deserves to.”

“I’d like to keep my mind clear, my Prince.” You said, keeping your gaze down, hearing his fast and deep sigh. “Fine.” he said, straightening his back as a soldier. After all, wasn’t this just another duty?

It wasn’t just that though. You were his wife now, the future mother of his children. It was his duty and his right to claim you as his own.

“Lay on the bed.”

With your heart pounding in your ears, you did as you were told but when the mattress dipped under his weight, you did not expect to see him with his clothes still on, the eyepatch firmly in its place. More so, you did not expect the harshness of his gestures as he held your waist to turn you around. The air hitched in your throat as your face met the mattress and a strange sorrow gripped your heart. Did he not want to look at you? Did he not like you?

“Try to stay still and it’ll be over shortly.” he said. He was trying to sound reassuring, but his voice came out cold and flat. His fingers latched on your underskirts, hiking them up, filling you with embarrassment as you grow completely exposed beneath him.

Aemond knew what to do. He may not have been as depraved as his brother, but he was still a man. And once in a while, when his hands would not suffice, some maid or servant girl would’ve had to bear, quite keenly on their part, his intimate attentions.

As his hands began to glide on your thighs, you shivered and said “Wait…”

Slowly your head turned to look at him, cheeks red and breath slow and anxious. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”

Your words seemed to stun him for a moment. The mere thought of you wanting to look at him made him realize how wrong he was behaving. You were his wife, not a common whore to bend over and have his moment of bliss. He had even told Aegon. That was not his intention, but there was a gap between how he felt and how he acted, a limb severed by years of pity looks and feelings trapped in his mouth and swallowed.

Almost gently, he made you turn but once you were facing him, he pinned your wrists on the mattress, unable to touch him even if you had gathered enough courage to do it. You tried to brace yourself for what your mother had told you. But she had not told you that he would touch you there, that all your senses would go numb except for that one brand new feeling between your legs. But he seemed enthralled by it just as you, his mouth parting to let out slow puffs of air as you grow wet and swollen against his fingers.

Your breath was labored, coming out in soft pants that made your cheeks purple. More so because he kept circling his deft fingers on your core while looking straight into your eyes, reveling in the way you were answering to his call, in the way he was shaping your need, your desire.

“You never touched yourself, did you?” he asked in a husky voice.

You barely shook your head and his eye glinted with something dark as he brought his face close to yours “Good. I shall be the only one inside you.”

He swallowed your shaky breath with this mouth, kissing you for the very first time, apart from the shy, almost prude peck exchanged after the wedding vows. Your lips moved shyly, trembling with the coiling pressure between your legs. And just when you thought this heat, this delicious aching couldn’t grow more unbearable, he sticked a finger inside you, spilling a loud moan right against his mouth.

One of your wrists twisted in his harsh hold, willing to touch him, to grip on something, but he didn’t let you. “Easy…” he blew on your lips “Relax. It’ll feel good, I promise…”

It surely felt good to him, to feel the tightness of your cunt squeezing his finger. He curled it and you squinted your eyes, choking a gasp that made him smirk proudly against your jaw. “Gods, you’re so tight…” he breathed as he kept rubbing slowly against your walls.

“It’s—it’s too much—“ you cried out with pain and pleasure running together, breathing his scent of ash, leather and a hint of something minty.

“How will you take my cock if you can’t even take my finger?” He whispered with benevolent cruelty, moving his finger faster and deeper.

Certainly your mother had not told you of the obscene wet sounds you would hear, of the uncontrollable moans coming out of your mouth, of his soft growling next to your ear when his breeches became too tight.

He had lined the tip of his hard manhood to your entrance, catching your breath away as tried to still your nerves, but the pain came altogether. You felt like he was cutting you from the inside. Tears filled your eyes, squinting for the painful stretching. You knew he was restraining himself; he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already was. And you almost felt affection for him, most men would not have bothered.

Then he had started to move, you felt that stranger body rubbing over and over against your walls, and finally the pain soothed, but not completely. You could tell he was enjoying it, his ragged breath and faint moans told you so, as well as the curses hissed through his teeth in a language you guessed was Valyrian. And then he had stilled completely, gripping your hips hard and firm while you felt a hot wave pulsing through your core.

The next morning, you could barely sit down for breakfast, and your aunt had looked at you with concern and a hint of amusement in her eyes. She was a veteran at court, a long-time widow, and quite happy to be so. It was her who suggested your betrothal to the Prince.

"How are you feeling, sweet niece?"

"Awful." you said promptly, shifting your weight on the seat.

"Well, this is the kind of anguish all women must go through."

"I thought that was giving birth to another human being."

"Oh Gods, no. That is the ugly part. This is the good one," she said with a sly smile "I suggest you enjoy it as much as you can."

At the time, you didn't really understand what she meant. The first night with the prince had gone...well, you thought. But he certainly enjoyed it more than you.

The second time was better. Your muscles were still sore, but the pain was but a faint discomfort compared to the pleasure you felt for the very first time in your life.

The third time he went down on you, bringing you so close to the edge only to deny your release, with cruel enjoyment on his part, making you whine with shame at the loss of his mouth and tongue on your folds.

The fourth time he bent you down on the breakfast table, all things falling in a mess of cutlery. He had pulled up your skirts and lowered his breeches just enough to thrust in, unraveling a special spot deep inside of you that had you mewling like some primitive beast.

The fifth time he had you writhing in bed, hair stuck to your head with sweat and hands clenching the sheets while he had you peak three times in a row.

It was then that you started to think your aunt was right.

That was indeed the good part.

“Are you afraid?” he asks, with a soft taunt on the tip of his tongue. You drag your eyes away from the gigantic beast before you and almost scoff. That is enough for him to laugh, quietly, but still not quietly enough for you to not notice and wonder at the view.

It’s been merely one moon since you’ve been married to Prince Aemond, and you could count on the fingers of your hand the times you have seen him laugh. It was eerie at first, you feared all the things you heard about the One Eyed Prince were true. That he was cold as stone and just as hard. And he was. But the more you spent time together, the more you were able to make cracks, and let light through.

“I’m equally afraid as any little mortal of right mind would be in front of the largest dragon in the known world, my dear husband.”

His lips stay quirked up, but his eye widens, as it always does when you call him that. He steps close to you, a few of his long strides are enough for him to tower over you, and the ground below your feet shifts.

“Come.” He says, taking your hand, “I promise she won’t eat you.” This time you deliberately glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need some other kind of persuasion to trust me? Perhaps like the one I used this morning?”

The early afternoon sun makes his face almost hurting to watch, or maybe it's just his bold gloating that makes his appearance so exhausting.

“That was not persuasion.” you remark, hiding the tinge of red on your cheeks “It was coercion.”

“Hmm. You didn’t seem so hostile when I made you come twice before breakfast.”

"I was hostile to the chance of the maid assisting with what we were doing."

"The maid should know better than to enter while my wife is undressing."

His eye roams over you just as he had done that morning, hunger clouding it, making your insides shrink. "Perhaps it's best if she knew. Someone must be aware of how cruel my husband is." there's a soft tease in your tone—something you are still learning, but true nonetheless.

He had ripped your nightgown with his bare hands when the maid entered to help you dress. She fled hastily, but you barely spared a glance at her, already lost to the fierce claim of his hand between your legs. He had taken you, twice, and then ordered you to dress, forcing you to have breakfast with the Queen and the Princess with your thighs still sticky with sex, sticky with him.

And he had been there, sitting just in front of you, with a piercing and delighted gaze.

He pulls your hand, and you follow, getting closer to that living relic that is Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons. She raises her monstrous head and looks straight at you with her amber eyes.

It is the first time you step so close to her, and even if you thought about it a lot, your heart is pounding fast, and your breath comes out slow and labored. She's a dreadful wonder.

She flares her nostrils and smells you, making a low rumble which results in a gust of hot wind that ruffles your hair and skirts.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond says quietly “Issa ñuha ābrazȳrys. Kostā pāsagon zirȳla.”

You look at him questioningly, and he answers. “I told her you are my wife. And she can trust you.”

You cast a curious look at the dragon and then back at him “Is that all it takes? You tell dragons to trust you, and they resist the urge to turn you into their meal?”

Aemond curves his lips and makes you step closer, standing behind you and guiding your hand on the old green scales. “It takes much more than that.” he whispers in your ear “You have to surrender to them, completely. A dragon is no slave.”

You feel the heat beneath your palm, but it’s not that that makes you swallow; it’s the heat of his breath on your neck, right into your ear, scorching his way into your brain and inflaming every thought.

“What does Lykirī mean?” you ask, and you hate how your voice cracks on the edges.

He smirks because he knows, he always does. But he does not answer. Instead, he pulls your hand again, and you follow, circling the beast until stopping before the intricate ropes that lead to the saddle.

“Aemond, I don’t think—”

“You are my wife and you will ride with me on dragon back.” He said, commanding.

Truthfully, you gladly want to obey; there is just a slight difference between picturing riding a dragon and doing it.

Even the climbing to get in the saddle is a challenge on its own, but he helps you until you firmly seat yourself in it. Aemond sits behind you, and you look around with widened eyes, as if you are looking down from the highest tower ever built, except this is a living one, made of fire and breathing fire.

He leans over you to grab the reins, and you tense, waiting with bathed breath.

“Dohaeras, Vhagar. Soves!”

She lets out a loud screech that makes your ears hurt, but you have no time to even register it because she's already moving. You grip Aemond’s arms and brace yourself against his chest when Vhagar lurches onward and opens her huge wings to take flight.

She goes up and up, above the clouds, and your head is dizzy, with fear, with euphoria, until you are laughing like a child, like you never did in your entire life. Aemond lets go of the reins and laces his arms around you, angling his head to look at you, his silver hair violently ruffled by the wind. “How does it feel, my sweet wife?”

There are no common words to describe it. Now you know why they say Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. No man could claim a dragon or rule the skies.

“I feel like I’m close to the Gods.” you say, and he tightens the hold on you “Dragons do not answer to Gods.” he says, burying his nose in your hair “Where does this leave us?”

You turn your head to look at him, and you feel like you are looking at one of them. And yet he looks like he’s beyond any God.

“Above them. Above the Gods.”

“Hmm.” He croons, breathing your scent through his nose, and then his right hand grabs your skirt and dips underneath, until you feel his cold fingers grazing your skin. “I will make you feel like one.”

He cups your core through your small clothes, and you whimper, gripping his arm harder. He feels your heat through his palm, hotter than Vhagar’s own fire, and he sets the fabric aside to properly touch you. “My sweet wife.” he whispers, sliding a finger between your folds “Always so ready for me.”

“Aemond.” You say, holding your breath, trying to oppose but your voice cracks, and your body with it, already answering to his call. You see clouds before your eyes, but it’s all a blur, all your senses are enslaved by his touch, rubbing lazy circles on your bud. Too slow for your liking, for your need. Your hips arch and buck, chasing his hand for more friction, and he laughs, darkly. “What is it? What do you need, sweet girl? Tell me.”

He takes your chin with his free hand and forces you to turn your head and look at him. His hold is ruthless, but his tone is almost pleading. “Tell me.” he orders and you feel like he’s smothering you, sweeping away all the air from your lungs. “I-I need more…”

“More of what?” he asks, stopping altogether. “Show me.”

You look him in the eye and swallow, heat inflaming your cheeks, but there’s no place for shame, not here. It is just a faint ghost passing through you, and then it’s gone. Your hand pulls the gown up, and you place it on his, like a feather. “Here.” You breathe on his mouth “Inside.”

The howling wind does nothing to muffle his growl, and then he’s kissing you, harshly, teeth clashing and biting your lips as he accepts your plea, sliding a finger inside of you.

A strangled moan escapes you, and he swallows it, darting his tongue in every corner of your mouth. He releases your chin only to grab your leg to further open them and then he adds a second finger, moving them deftly until reaching that special spot. Your head falls back on his shoulder, gasping loudly, digging your nails into his hand.

Your breath is ragged and fast, and you uselessly try to stifle moan after moan even if there are only the skies to hear.

“Don’t.” he says grazing your lobe with his teeth “I want to hear you. I want you to scream for me.”

Your mind goes blank, as does all your restraint. You feel the tide coming to crash you, hips moving on their own accord, chasing and chasing. And then you’re drowning in it, mouth falling open and flesh and bones clenching and trembling.

He grunts softly when your nails scratch his skin and his fingers slip out, glistening; he raises them to his lips and tastes every drop of you. Still panting, he takes your chin once more with his sticky fingers and licks your lips, so you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your head is still dizzy when Vhagar lands in a clearing in the King’s Wood, but this has nothing to do with altitude. Your limbs are heavy when he helps you dismount, your legs buckle. There is a tautness knotting your bones, itching your fingertips.

You wish to touch him, because you have never, not as a wife would touch her husband, not as he has done with you.

It is only a moon and yet he has taken you almost every night and every day. He has touched you everywhere, he has molded you to his liking, and you let him do it with giddiness, undoing yourself like clay in his hands. He had put his mouth on you, and you have discovered he particularly enjoyed it, because he has done that at the most inopportune times, even in some dark corner of the corridors.

And you wondered if you could do the same with him—not because you have to, but because you want to. You want to claim him just as he claims you, relentlessly.

And he really is. He is relentless, he doesn't give you the time to wander with your hands, to discover, to touch. Fire burns him quickly and you are ashes before you realise you are burning with him.

“I didn’t know my wife had claws.” He says at one point, while you are going back to the Keep.

You wake from your thoughts and turn, watching him raise his hand to show the red marks on the back of his hand, and the sight makes you almost proud—proud to have left a mark of you on him. But you want more, and he wants more. You know it; it takes a brief look at his breeches to know that he wants more.

You dart your eyes around, but there's no one. So, you stop. Trying to gather all the boldness you never had, you step closer to him and take his hand in yours. Your eyes look up slowly, glinting with uncertainty and bravery. "Then let me soothe your pain, husband."

Aemond’s eye widens, and the air around you turn heavy, forcing you to open your mouth to breathe. You take one more step and bring the back of his hand to your lips, kissing it gently while your eyes stay fixed on his face. The other hand goes tentatively to his chest and then slides down, and for once, just once, he’s the one answering your call. His eye darkens and his lips part when your hands bashfully grab the laces of his breeches.

But you should have known better. Targaryens and their desires. Doomed to take whatever they want, whenever they want, answering neither Gods nor men.

You barely blink and he grabs you by the wrists and forces you to the ground. Cold grass and bushes stinging your back make you gasp, but Aemond is already on you, watching you like a century-long thirsted man who takes a glimpse of a water spring, as if you could evaporate from his sight at any moment.

“Aemond, please.” you beg “let me—“

But his tongue is in your mouth, hot and scorching you alive. Your eyes flutter shut, and he hikes your skirts up, taking hold of your hips. You feel his bulge against you, hard and ready, and you can do nothing else than wait, pinned down like prey, all bravery a distant memory.

Suddenly he lowers himself down, lifting your skirts with haste until you’re completely bare half down. “No—Aemond, please I want to—”

“You want what?” he asks with a wolfish grin “Deny me your sweet taste? Iksā ñuhon, ābrazȳrys.” He said that already, you know what it means. You are mine.

“You belong to me. And this…” he swears placing your legs on his shoulders while looking at your aching core as a man who found the greatest treasure in the world. “This belongs to me as well.”

He runs his tongue up and down your wet folds, humming with delight as he tastes you and sees you squirm, arching your back on the stingy bushes. You moan loudly when he slowly swirls his tongue, not able to keep track of your hips starting to move on their own, thrusting into his mouth and the sight of you like this, makes him even wilder, pushing him to open his mouth and put it entirely on your cunt, sucking harshly until anything before your eyes becomes blurred.

Your legs on his shoulders begin to shake and curl, caging him further against you, but just when you are about to come straight into his mouth, he pulls back. A weak sob leaves your mouth as your hips keep bucking against nothing and he smirks at that, untangling your legs from his shoulders, running his tongue over his lips, to taste what's left of you on him. You look at him through dazed eyes and a tinge of annoyance for the denied release. “What?” he has the boldness to ask with a sly smirk “Did you not enjoy it?” he runs his thumb on his glistening chin and swiftly licks it. "Hmm. I most certainly did."

“Aemond, please.” you claw desperately at his shoulders and forearms, forcing him to lie on you, feel something that could soothe the aching between your legs. He seems keen to grant you this mercy, molding his crotch against you so you can feel how hard and desperate he is.

“Please.” you beg in a thin voice.

“Speak it plainly, my love. I want to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

You look at him straight in the eye and what you say next is not a request nor a plea. Your mother would be ashamed of you, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You are not begging. You are demanding. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t need more than a few moments to get his cock out of his breeches, and not a moment later he’s pushing inside of you, your back arching on the bushes and your throat fighting for breath. He groans and starts a relentless pace, lifting his weight from you just enough for him to look at his cock going in and out, the sight only pushing him to thrust harder and harder. “Look at you.” he croons, sweet and rough “You were born to take me, to be mine.”

Your face twists with pleasure, teeth biting your lower lip while he takes you higher and higher, higher than any sky a dragon could ever take you.

He soon becomes messy and sloppy, cursing under his breath, but you can barely hear him. Your mind is sluggish and everything comes muffled: him, the birds chirping on some tree, your wet flesh slapping against his in the lewdest and most blessed way.

He curses some more, and then he’s spilling inside you, his arched mouth opening and his eye closing like a man absolved.

And yet, he does not stop. He has not claimed enough.

“Māzis, dōna ābrazȳrys. Come for me.”

Your hand clutches something on the ground, something with thorns that pierces your skin with pain, but you can’t even feel that, because you are falling, legs trembling around him, and heart stopping for an endless moment of pure breathtaking bliss.

“Gevie.” he coos with his lips on yours, falling with his body on you, still clenching and pulsing around him. He stays right where he is, nesting inside of you, and now it is the only chance you have been granted to touch him. You put an arm around his shoulders, catching your breath, and look at the skies above, thinking you are indeed above them.

It was easy to explain the dirt and grass stains on your dress. It was a little less easy to explain the twigs in your ruffled hair when you and Aemond returned to the Keep only to meet the Queen Mother along one of the corridors. Alicent merely smiled at you with a tight smile and did not spare from giving a look full of daggers to her son.

"Seven Hells" you mutter when you go back to your rooms and catch a glimpse of the mess you are in the mirror.

Aemond stays on the threshold to close the door and grins, or rather, gloats.

You step out of your muddy shoes and start to pull the laces of your dress.

"What are you doing?" he asks, and you playfully glare at him. "Am I allowed to take a bath now? Or do you want me to go around all sullied? I fear there are no believable excuses for the state I’m in."

"You can tell them the truth." he says, walking to you and replacing your hands with his to help you pull the intricate laces.

You smile softly with your back turned before raising an eyebrow, asking "Which is?"

He keeps his eye focused on the dress, a slight furrow in his brow, and stoically serious, he says "That your husband fucked you in the King's Wood."

"I could tell the maid. I'm sure she won't be stunned after what she saw this morning."

He makes you turn so you can look at him, and the sight before you makes your heart sing. His eye roams on your face softly, a rare sight on him, always stoic, always sharp, like all the angles composing this beautiful sculpture of black glass.

You always thought of marriage as a strategic deal for men, and a way for women to prove their value to the world, giving those same men sons and daughters. But you care for him. And he cares for you. That look on his face is enough for you to know that he cares for you, not merely as a brood mare.

“Gevie.” he says, quietly, and he touches your cheek, softly, making you wonder how those same hands can be so delicate and yet so merciless at the same time.

“What does it mean?” you ask, even if you are sure he will not answer. You observed that when he speaks in High Valyrian he does it almost to himself, as if to protect something he does not wish the others to know.

But this time, he meets your eyes and lowers his hand. “Beautiful.”

You look at him with your heart pounding in your throat, and then you stand up on your toes, crashing your mouth against his, almost catching him by surprise. But he is all too deft at turning the game on his side, and a few seconds later, his hands are gripping your hips and his tongue is licking the roof of your mouth.

When the door suddenly opens, you pull back, spotting the same maid from that morning who, this time, can do nothing but suffer the Prince's wrath.

"Can't you just fuck off for once?!"

You hold back a laugh against his chest and the poor maid flees in a hurry. But when he pulls you to him, tilting his head to pick up where he left off, you step back and say, "I'm afraid the Queen has requested your presence. You should go, my dear husband. I promise that by tonight I will be completely clean."

"Tonight?" he asks, raising his eyebrow. "What is happening tonight?"

You shrug your shoulders and hold back a smile. "Innocence doesn't suit you, my Prince."

"Neither does you."

"I'm afraid this is your fault. You are sullying my soul as well as...everything else."

"You won't be of the same mind when you have my child growing in your womb," and he smirks, looking at you as if he's taking a sacred oath, and then walks away.

You finally manage to take a bath and change clothes, and then you go to visit your aunt. She spends most of her time alone, sipping tea in the gardens, partly because she can't stand the other court ladies, partly because the court ladies can't stand her. Truthfully, you cannot blame them, your aunt speaks plainly—too plainly at times.

You sit down with her for tea, which you end up swallowing like salt, because your aunt takes it with a whole squeezed lemon, and no sugar.

"I saw you with your husband earlier. I may be too old for new fashion but mud on your skirt and twigs in your hair seem a bit too brazen, even for me."

You stifle a smile, recalling what happened. If only she knew he was brazen enough to have you utterly undone on dragon back, thousands of feet up.

Your eyes go distant while you fumble with some tablecloth threads, but your Aunt stares at you piercely, and grabbing her cup of tea she says "I love that look on you."

"What?"

She sips the sour liquid and puts the cup down. "That look. The I'm in love look."

"I am not!" you counter, cheeks going red.

"Of course you are. I've watched you two. I dare say he's falling way faster than you."

You look at her puzzled. Many things have changed in a moon. And you are sure you are utterly infatuated with him. But you did not know what to think of what he actually feels for you, if he even feels something. You know he cares for you, you know he loves spending time with you. You know he's passionate, possessive, almost soft at rare times. But in love? That seems too soon to consider, or to hope for.

"It is too soon to talk about love."

"In fact, I did not, my sweet niece. Falling in love and love are beasts of different species. Why do you think we say "falling"? You can't stop from falling. To love a person is an entirely different matter. Love is a choice."

You let those words sink but you prefer not to question your heart right now. There is a reason you have come here to talk to your aunt, even if you don't know how to address the matter without melting from embarrassment.

But in the end, who could you ask for advice? Your squeamish maids? The Queen Mother? Definitely not.

"Listen, I...I wanted to ask you something..." you start "It is uhm...a matter of somewhat intimate nature."

"Ah, my favourites." your aunt says, beaming "I am all ears."

You shift uncomfortably in your chair and swallow another sip of that dreadful tea "My mother...she explained to me what would happen between husband and wife to...consummate the marriage. But she didn't tell me...well, everything else."

Your Aunt is quick to raise her eyebrow "I gathered that your marriage had been consummated by now. Thoroughly."

"Y-yes, of course. But I...discovered...that there are other ways for a husband to please his wife...and I was wondering if...if I could…do those same things to please him."

Your aunt looks utterly puzzled for a long moment, and then, almost stunned, she says "Oh Seven Hells, child. You are telling me you never sucked your husband off?"

A few court ladies walking near turned their heads, going white as sheets, while you, on the contrary, take a nice purple shade.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, prissies. We all did it eventually." she dismisses them, waving a lazy hand, and looks back at you. "You should do it, if you wish. Men love it. Your uncle used to ask—"

"I don't want to hear that, auntie, I'm begging you." you say squinting your eyes.

"Listen to me, child. Men love to think they rule everything, everywhere. But it is not always like that. And if you want to rule your husband's heart, you must rule in his bed first."

That evening, Aemond wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his room with his wife and forget all the hateful political talk he had had to endure at dinner.

You had not attended, and that had bothered him. Never would he have thought of marriage as anything more than a duty, yet there he was, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you weren't in his rooms when he set foot in there.

"Where is my wife?" he asks the maid, and she keeps her eyes glued to the floor, saying "The princess spent the evening in the library, your Grace. She told me that she would be—"

"I am here," you say, appearing behind the young maid.

You see his chest sag as if a weight is leaving him, and he casts an icy glance at the poor maid "Out."

He is rarely kind to servants, but you can tell by his tense shoulders that something is wrong.

"Aemond, what is the matter?" you ask as soon as the door closes, walking up to him with a hand behind your back.

"Where were you? Why weren't you at dinner?"

"I was in the library."

"For four hours?"

"It was a tough read—"

He grabs your arm, gripping hour wrist harshly, and you flinch. "Aemond, I swear to you.” you say watching his eye on fire and a sneer twisting his mouth “You can ask Maester Mellos."

Suddenly he lets you go, and looks down, closing his eye for a moment. But he doesn't apologize, he never does, and not because he is a Prince. It's just the way he is. He doesn't apologize, he doesn't say thank you, he doesn't say please.

"Aemond, what's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it now. In fact, never. Not here."

You watch him carefully, and you nod as he moves to pour wine into a cup. You watch him gobble it up greedily, which is unlike him. So, you get close and move your hand from behind your back and say, "Anyway, I wasn't lying. I really spent four hours in the library...trying to decipher this."

You show him an old book, and the title catches his eye, cup held in midair. "Tales of the Dragonlords?" he asks frowning. "This is in High Valyrian."

"It is." you confirm as you move closer, and you steal his cup before saying, "Would you read it to me?" and you take a sip, of wine and courage.

He watches the liquid flow down your throat and then accepts the invitation, taking the book—the one he has read so many times he can recite it by heart. He opens it to the first page, but you say "No. Page 72."

There is a slight imperative tone in your tone of voice, and it thrills him, given how his eye glints under the candlelight. He drops it on the table, looking at you from head to toe, and says, "I'll read it to you later, sweet wife."

He steps closer but you back away saying, "Fine, then. I'll tell you what I understood so you can correct me or not." and at the same moment your own hands go up on your corset and you start pulling on the laces.

The gesture catches his eye like a moth to a flame and he stays silent as you pull all the laces and then slip off your dress, remaining in your underskirt. His gaze roams over you slowly, and with a soft smirk, he decides to play the game.

“Page 72, you said. How Dragonlords claimed Dragons.”

“Yes.”

"And why did it capture your interest? Do you wish to do it? Do you wish to claim a dragon?"

"I wish to conquer, not claim."

He comes closer and looks at you, breathing through his nose, restraining, always restraining, and then he's raising his hand to reach a lock of your hair falling on your shoulder, but you stop him, air as heavy as moss.

"The Valyrian sages say a dragonlord must surrender himself completely to the dragon. But it works both ways. The dragon must submit his will to their rider."

He looks at you without blinking, and you take his arms, guiding him closer until you turn and push him lightly on the bed. He sits and you slowly climb on his lap, knees caging his hips, heart is pounding in your throat like a hammer. You hear him taking a swift breath and pride pools in your bones because for once you have caught him off guard.

You can feel his crotch hardening by the moment, but the look on his face is not one of hunger or lust. It is pure and blessed devotion.

You wonder at the view, and your eyes roam on his face until...

"Can I take it off?"

There's no need to say what. His face goes hard as stone, eye looking away with discomfort, with shame.

"Please, Aemond." you whisper. "I want to see all of you. I want you to bare yourself to me as I did to you."

"It is not pleasant."

"I don't want pleasantness. I want you."

He stares at you for an eternal moment and then he caves.

A flash of sparkling blue catches you completely and you can do nothing but watch with lips parted, while he keeps his eye down.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean your head against his to breathe one single word in his ear. "Gevie."

His arms are all around you, holding you so tight you might gasp for air. Instead you are smiling, breathing through his long silver hair. You are not sure if you aunt is right, if love is indeed a choice. You can't bring yourself to care because you are doing it already.

And then he's kissing you, seizing your tongue with his in a fierce consuming way. He slightly hikes up your hips, and his hand tries to slide between your legs, but you lace your fingers around his wrist, breaking the kiss with panted breath.

"No." you whisper, and he looks at you almost questioningly, mouth open and chest heaving.

"Lykirī."

His eye widens and you smile, secretly. "I know what it means now."

He smirks at this and does not miss the chance to be the ever diligent scholar. "But you said it wrong. The R is hard."

“Lykirī.” You say again, following his lesson, and in the same moment your hand leaves his wrist and goes down to his breeches. He dips his chin to look at it, at your hands unsure, and he too looks unsure.

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.” You say, and your voice comes out firm and clear. “Please, Aemond. Let me…let me touch you.”

He realizes now that in all the times you have been lying together, you never managed to lay a hand on him. He likes to keep people at distance. Too many wrong hands have been on him. The Maesters’, inspecting, debating, healing without healing. That whore, taking what it was not hers to take, not yet.

But he wants you to touch him. He has dreamed of it, in any way a man could dream of a woman’s touch.

He looks at you for a moment, chest rising slowly, and then, without taking his eye off you, he pulls the laces of his breeches and guides your hand around his cock. You look down, exhaling a long breath at feeling his hard and hot flesh already pulsing.

He knows you don’t know how to do it, so his hands guide you at first, going slowly up and down, and the air comes out of his mouth slowly and labored. You look up at him, his eye is pitch black, lid growing heavy with pleasure, and your core clenches, desire pools in your belly and flows down.

He must hear the call of your body, because he releases your hand, still stroking him, and goes right between your legs. You gasp loudly, and he hums, delight dripping from his voice just as you are dripping on his fingers. He starts to pump his fingers and you can do nothing but moan, clutching his shoulders with your free hand, the other still around his cock, but the act is growing lazy, your mind can’t focus properly on what you are supposed to do.

“Listen.” he orders you, fingers moving faster and faster, and you do listen. Your soaked flesh coming undone at his scorching touch. “Who else has you like this?”

But this is a question he’s asking himself. Because no one else will ever have him bare like this.

“You. Just you.” you say hoarsely, eyes closing and hips rocking on their own accord.

“And who am I?” he whispers just as hoarsely, and yet his voice is like a whip on all your senses.

“My husband.” you cry, feeling the wave ready to drown you “Ñuha zaldrīzes.” My dragon.

You cannot care less about how you said it, because then your mouth falls open, nails digging into his shoulder while your trembling hips keep riding his fingers, clenching them like a vice.

Your head falls onward, leaning against his forehead, and you try to catch your breath. You watch his wet fingers go straight into his mouth while he looks at you, humming with pleasure. “You look so pretty like this.” he says with the ghost of a smile on his lips “I should fuck you in Throne Room with the whole court watching, so they know how pretty you are when you come for me.”

You laugh with your cheeks flushing, and he slides an arm around you, and you know he wants to pin you down on the bed and fuck you until you are muffling nonsense in the pillow. But this is not his game. This is yours, and even if you don’t know how to play, you will win.

“No.” you say, climbing down from his lap, and he looks at you with hunger and a tinge of thrilling curiosity. “It is my turn to claim.” You say with all the bravery you possess.

Not a moment later, you are going down on your knees.

Another small victory, because his eye widens as he had never done before, and you can see that this, the sight of you on your knees before him, is something he has been craving for, even dreamed of it.

His breathing is slow, and you are not even touching him.

You place yourself between his knees and you lean closer and closer, anxiety twisting your insides, but you want to do this. “Lykirī, nuha zaldrīzes. Surrender.” you take him into your hand, tugging slowly, and your lips linger on the tip, heart pounding in your ears and eyes fixed on him. “Lykirī.” You say one last time and then you are swallowing him.

He hisses loudly and his lips part, hands clutching the covers until his knuckles go white. He’s like burning metal inside your mouth—hot and hard. At first, you just taste him, running your tongue over the head, and he’s cursing under his breath. His hands twitch on the covers, restraining and restraining, but there’s no need. You take his hand while looking at him and you release it from your mouth to say “Teach me.”

It’s like you have just poured fire on more fire. His eye goes wild, he takes hold of your head and starts to guide you again, making your mouth engulf him once more and deep down to the base and then up to the tip again, filling the room with a wet gagging sound. You get the gist of what you’re supposed to do, so your head starts going up and down and up and down, and he actually moans for you, head falling back for just a moment before looking back, he can’t help but watch as you fiercely claim him.

You watch his chest heaving fast and your jaw is starting to hurt but you don't care, you are too absorbed by the view before you. You are too thrilled by the fact that, for once, you have made him speechless.

He's always so bold in the bedroom, so cruel in deciding when and how to give pleasure, and now he's utterly speechless. He can only curse without breath, and gasp and groan.

“Kelītīs.” he manages to say at one point, voice all husky and cracking. You don’t know that word, and you have no time to ask because in a blink, he’s slamming you onto the bed and he’s hiking up your skirt, but you get on your elbows pushing him on his back and climbing on him.

“I’m not done, valzȳrys.” you say feeling his hard length inflaming your core, so you lay your hips on it as firmly as possible. “I claimed, but I did not conquer.”

“You are fucking torturing me.” he points out, bucking against you.

“Conquests could last for centuries, dear husband. You above all should know that.”

“All I know now is that I need to fuck you.” he says placing both hands on the sheets to pull himself up.

“No, I will.” you promise, rocking your hips once more “This is my conquest, not yours.”

You keep rubbing your drenched core on his length until a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and he's so hard he's leaking from the tip. "You are twisted, wife." he says with a dazed tone and you smile even if you can't take it anymore, but you rock some more, saying "I'm a quick study. And I'm learning from the best."

Finally, when you are so wet you are dripping on him, you raise just enough to slide his cock inside of you.

You gasp together and you brace on his shoulders to start moving. You both know you are not going to last long, so you start rocking your hips slowly, taking him to the hilt until you struggle for air.

“Move…” he orders but you just take the opposite road, slowing your hips in a delicious torturing way. “Do you know what else the Sages said? A rider must know their mount, feel their heat below them.”

But Aemond does not have a single drop of blood in his head right now to give you an answer, let alone play your game; he's just fire that burns and burns and burns and just like the Sages said, you can feel his heat, burning below and inside you. He grips your hips and starts to thrust inside you like the wild beast you are supposedly claiming, until you are moaning so loud your throat hurts.

“Yes—” he growls as you bounce on him “Just like that—you’re gripping me so well—fuck"

You both turn sloppy, a mess of sweaty limbs and teeth biting, clutching at each other with bruising grips, pulling at the roots of his hair when you’re about to fall from the highest sky.

"Come on, my sweet girl. Let go for me." he breathes into your mouth, forcing you to move even faster "Let go fro your dragon. Seal your conquest." And you do.

He follows right after, spilling inside while digging his teeth into your neck like fangs on a prey, muffling his loud groaning.

And you are smiling like a fool, a lovestruck fool, but most of all, a conqueror.

Thank you so much for reading!! 💞💞

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #smut

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maximoffwitch · 29 days

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wanda + natasha's jacket

#gfs sharing clothes

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maximoffwitch · 29 days

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#nomad steve this #nomad steve that #how about #nomad NAT

+ bonus:

#BEEFY NAT

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maximoffwitch · 29 days

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WANDAVISION episode eight: previously on

#crying #look how soft #wanda maximoff

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maximoffwitch · 1 month

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hihihihi idk if youre accepting requests or not but if you are:

can you please do stripper!wanda x innocent!reader where reader's friend drags her to a nearby strip club to blow off steam. and reader is really innocent and is just sitting in the chair, slightly confused while watching the dancers do their thing on the pole. and reader is unknowingly eyeing one certain stripper (wanda) and wanda notices and comes over to reader. and reader's friend is teasing reader and telling wanda to give reader a lap dance when she comes over. and then wanda brings reader to like one of the private rooms in the back and like reader is realy inexperienced and awkward and tense. and then wandas there to like talk reader through it and reader's like REALLLY shy. okay woah thats a lot thank youuuuu take your time 💝

The art of eye contact - Wanda Maximoff

★Pairing: stripper!Wanda Maximoff x innocent!f!reader

Summary: your friend drags you to a strip club, what could happen there to such an innocent little thing like you?

★Warnings: little NSFW 18+, lap dance, grinding, pet names, a little fluff (sorry I can’t without fluff)

★Word count: 1.5k

★AN: hi anon! In general, my requests are closed, but I found this very interesting, so here we are. there was nothing about 18+ in the request and I decided to remove this part (well, almost). hope you’ll like it

The loud music and shining lights of the club were blinding as you sat shyly in your seat and looked somewhere at the floor. There was a can of soda on the table nearby. The people around are mostly men, but your eye notices some women who also came to watch the show. And only one question: what the hell are you doing here?

“Come on Y/N let’s go, I’ve been there more than once, maybe you’ll like it.” This is exactly what you heard from your friend half an hour ago, when you were sitting in her apartment and just playing online games. You came to her in a terrible mood because of a failed college exam and sought solace in this meeting. In the last couple of weeks, your nerves were on edge and all you need now was to let off steam after a series of failures. “Fucking shit, can’t you see they’re shooting at you!?” You told her angrily as she turned away from the laptop screen without following the game. You definitely needed another way to relax.

Despite your 21, you had never been to this kind of establishment and of all your friends, you were the most innocent person, not knowing what relationships and sex are. "Come on, let's go, don't be so boring." She insisted, "If you don't like it, then I give you permission to hit me." You took off your headphones and sighed. If you think so, then you were curious to visit the strip club. "okay." After that, within 10 minutes you were riding in a taxi to an address unknown to you.

Returning to the present time, you tried not to stare too much at all these people dancing at the poles, the clothes on them were becoming less and less every minute and your cheeks were flushed red. Your friend hit you with her elbow, signaling for you to look (she paid for the entrance and doesn’t want her money to disappear into the floor in which you are ready to make a hole with your gaze). You look up again and look at each dancer in turn until you reach her. To your right is dancing a woman with long red hair, which is pulled back into a messy bun with a shiny clip. Her top was already off, revealing a red fabric bra that did not hide the softness of her breasts. She was still wearing a long skirt that cut out to her hips, so you could see her legs, which seemed to be moving closer to you. Stop why is she coming to you.

While you watched as if under hypnosis, the stranger was already in front of you and grabbed the soda from your hand and put it on the table to put her hands on either side of you on the armrests. Her back arched and she made a small wave, so that her breasts were a few centimeters from your face, it seemed like you were ready to explode from what was happening. Her head tilted, her lips reached your ear so she could shout to you over the noise of the music, “I’m Wanda, nice to meet you.” In your opinion, people usually don’t get to know each other by sticking their almost bare breasts under the noses of strangers, but remember where you were and toss all the questions. In any case, all you did was nod and again direct your gaze somewhere to the side. It seemed that you had turned into a bundle of nerves and embarrassment.

Wanda took this as a sign that she needed to look for another client for the night, but your friend, who had been watching all this time from the side, took the redhead somewhere to the side and seemed to give her a bill and instructions on what to do.

"Where have you been?" You asked the girl as she approached with a sly grin, noticing how red you were. Why the hell did she bring you here and leave you to your fate? “I have another little gift for you that you’ve been eyeing so eagerly.” Was she teasing you? Defined. “What are you talking about, what kind of gift am I thinking enough for today.” Then your friend stepped aside and showed Wanda standing behind her. The girl leaned over so only you could hear, “I paid, so have fun.” You didn’t immediately understand what exactly she paid for, but Wanda’s sweet smile brought the idea to your brain and your eyes widened.

The redhead gently took your hand in hers and you obeyed (only out of curiosity) and followed her into the private rooms. When the red matte door closed and it became much quieter, you sat on the sofa with your hands on your knees and asked a question. “What exactly she told to do?” One of your knees is bouncing from the fact that you are shaking your leg trying not to be nervous. Your friend has already explained to the redhead what an innocent little thing you are, so the woman decided to first ask permission for some actions.

"She ordered a lap dance, but you're such a sweet girl that I was willing to do it for free just for you." She came up to you again and leaned in, so close that her breath was on your neck and you could smell the scent of her cherry perfume. “Can I sit on your lap honey?” Her soft sexy whisper drove you crazy and you squeaked in agreement. Immediately you felt the weight of her body on you, how her long legs in stockings wrapped around you and your core began to pulsate just from this. "What should I do? I…I never…” Wanda’s hips rocked and her core pressed against your stomach. “Oh I know baby, I can see it right away.” She giggled. “I’m sitting right on top of you, can you tell me your name?” Your head fell back and your hair fell into face, you really didn’t want to seem like what you were, namely the inexperienced mess right under her. “My name is Y/N.” Your hands grabbed the upholstery of the sofa, you didn’t know how to touch her, or whether it was possible at all.

Wanda's hands dropped to yours and placed them on her hips. “That’s it Y/N, you can touch me if you want.” Your head turned towards her and you finally looked into her big green eyes. It was so beautiful that no part of her body interested you as much as this. “Your eyes are so…lovely.” The woman seemed confused at these words. Her clients told her a lot, in particular something about her breasts or ass, but never before had anyone given her a compliment with such trepidation. “Oh, what a cute little thing you are Y/N.” She stood up on your knees, her hands reached for the clasp of her skirt, which she was still wearing, but you stopped her. “No, don't. I mean, you're so beautiful, you don't need to take your clothes off to prove it."

This was the third time you had confused her that night. Of course, your inexperience spoke to you, but you also didn’t want to do something so blatant with her, at least not right now. Although perhaps there was one thing that you wanted to get. “I...can you kiss me? That is, if you don’t want to or it’s forbidden, I don’t insist, but...” Her soft, full lips fell on yours without allowing you to finish, it seems that at these words the woman’s heart sank painfully. Her dark lipstick mixed with your cherry gloss and with every movement of your lips, your hands gripped her soft thighs tighter. “Wanda...” You wanted to ask, but she wasn’t done with you. When there was not enough air, she pulled away and turned her head away. “Sorry, it was not according to regulations.” You didn't understand why she was apologizing.

“No, no, everything is fine, at least... it sounds so stupid but... maybe you would like to get to know each other better and go on a date, for example?” You realized how naive it sounded, asking the girl from the strip club you had just met on a date. Surely everyone who was with her in this room made her such an offer.

Instead of words, the woman got up from you and you thought that the time that your friend had paid for was over, but after a few seconds she handed you a piece of paper with numbers. “Here, this is my number, text me in the morning if you don’t change your mind.” You took the small piece of paper from her hands and carefully placed it under your phone case.

For a minute you were in an awkward ringing silence. “Can I kiss you again?” You asked shyly. Even then, Wanda couldn’t refuse you.

When you left the private room and said goodbye, your friend immediately met you with questions about how everything went. You told her, not knowing that in this evening Wanda did not bring anyone else into the room where you were together.

#to read

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maximoffwitch · 1 month

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omg i LOVE this SO much! so hot and the banter and teasing is just 😮‍💨🥵

Taste Just Like A

Pairing: Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace x Female Reader

Summary: Your friend is getting ready to tie the knot soon, but there's a million other things you'd rather be doing right now than chaperoning her bachelorette party. A million other things, like the hot brunette over by the pool table. A million other things, like tying a few knots of your own.

Word Count: 5100

Warnings: language, smut, 18+ MDNI

A/N: Thank you @thedroneranger for being all together wonderful and hosting this fun event! And thank you @wkndwlff, @roosterforme, and @beyondthesefourwalls for being the best cheerleaders

Masterlist

“Can you at least pretend to be having a good time?”

The voice pulls you out of your daze, away from the blank stare you’d been directing at the party on the makeshift dance floor. A few tables shoved to the side, the ancient juke box playing some severely outdated rock that makes you wish the alcohol percentage in your glass wasn’t zero. You look over at your friend to see an expression that can’t be much more enthusiastic than your own.

“Easier said than done,” you scoff at her, another unfortunate bridal party victim, before downing the rest of your bright drink.

“It’s her last big hoorah as a single woman,” she tries to reason.

“Oh God,” you groan, unable to help the roll of your eyes, “she’s marrying a total loser. If they stay together forever this should be a funeral, not a party.”

“You could be a little more supportive,” your friend frowns. “He’s not that bad.”

“He’s boring,” you state. “I give it a year before he loses her attention.” Your gaze travels back to the bride-to-be, in the center of the floor pressed tight against some barely twenty-year old with a peach fuzz mustache and regulation haircut. Suddenly her insistence on a Navy bar for a bachelorette party is making a lot more sense. “Maybe even less.”

You yank the cherry from your empty glass, picking it off the stem with your teeth, letting its sweet juice flood your taste buds. You watch as Navy boy’s hands slide into riskier territory, not at all deterred by your friend’s white dress or the Bride To Be sash across her chest. You’re honestly not sure if his confidence deserves a reprimand or commendation. “I give it nine months,” you friend decides. You grin at her, slipping the cherry stem between your lips. It’s quick work, practiced with ease, and you place the newly tied knot on the napkin with the others you’ve made throughout the night before grabbing your glass and heading to the bar for another Shirley Temple.

Nat steps up to the pool table, sliding herself easily between Bradley and Jake, taking in the billiards scattered around across the felt and the pool cues held limply in their grasp.

“What are you two sluts staring at?” she asks, noticing the dumb looks on their faces.

Bradley rolls his eyes while Jake looks at her with a frown. “Would it kill you to be nice once in a while?”

“To you? It just might,” she smiles cheerily at him.

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “The hot chick with the bachelorette party,” he answers, turning his attention back to you.

Nat follows his gaze, picking you up in the crowd immediately. You’re easy to spot, really, with your cherry red dress hugging your figure until it fans at your hips, its flowy skirt stopping mid-thigh. The lace across your collarbones opens beautifully to leave a peek at your chest that has Nat’s mouth watering. And when you pull that cherry stem between your matching red lips, the muscles of your jaw working in subtle movements before pulling out the tied knot, Nat can only imagine the look on her face has become just as dumb as the boys.

“I’m gonna go talk to her,” Jake’s stupid voice filters through her thoughts as Nat watches you approach the bar.

“Save your breath, Bagman,” she smiles. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

“Don’t bother,” Bradley says. His tone matches the smug grin on his lips as he adds, “I already paid for her next drink.”

“What the fuck, Bradshaw?” Nat slaps his arm at the same time Jake yells, “You don’t even stand a chance, Bird Brain!”

“You snooze, you lose,” he gloats.

“She’s way out of your league!” Jake cries. “She’s pitching in the majors while you’re playing t-ball, Bradshaw.”

Nat’s eyes travel back to you, leaning on the bar while chatting with Penny. The sound of the boys still arguing next to her fades to the background as Penny looks over towards them, and Nat perks up as she points point in their direction. You look back over your shoulder, catching her eyes with a smile and a little tilt of your head. Nat’s grin matches your own as she winks at you, excitement fluttering though you when you give her a tiny wave in return before facing Penny again.

You slide up to the bar comfortably, smiling at the pretty bartender as you ask her for another Shirley Temple.

“You’ve caught some attention,” she says to you with a smile as she pours the soda into a glass. At your confused look she adds on, “Next drink’s already paid for.”

Your confusion only grows at her words, and you follow her gaze as she looks past you, pointing at something over your shoulder. “Over by the pool table.”

Your eyes zero in immediately on the brunette already looking at you, a smirk pulling at her pretty lips. It should be a crime, you think, to make something as casual as jeans and a t-shirt look so hot. Tan skin and dark hair juxtaposed against a bright white shirt, deep brown eyes you’d love to get lost in staring back at you. Your stomach flutters at her wink, and you turn back after waving, already feeling warm inside.

The bartender slides your new Shirley in front of you, a brief look of surprise on her face as she looks past you again before her lips pull into a knowing smirk.

You feel a heat against your back, skin already tingling in anticipation as you turn to see the beautiful brunette standing just a few inches away. “Hello,” you greet.

“Hi,” she smiles, eyes traveling across your face. “I’m Natasha.” The velvet timbre of her voice sends a shiver through you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Natasha,” you breathe, your own eyes scanning over her face as you turn to face her.

She waits a few seconds, waiting on an introduction no doubt, but her grin grows anyway when you don’t offer one. She must like this game she’s started as much as you do. “May I sit with you?”

“I’m not sitting.”

“Would you like to?” Her voice is sultry, and your chest tightens at her question. You know you should probably get back to the shitty party you’re here with, but dammit if you aren’t hooked already. In lieu of an answer, you slide onto the stool behind you slowly, sure to keep eye contact the whole way, a silent challenge as you cross your legs in front of you.

Her smile remains as she sinks down onto her own stool and faces you. The bartender returns to where you are to pour Natasha another glass as you tell her, “Thank you for the drink.” Overhearing your words, the bartender’s hands pause as they glance between you, setting on Natasha with a pinched brow. Their exchange is quick and silent, a talent that can only come from familiarity, and the bartender is shaking her head with a grin before setting Natasha’s drink in front of her and moving on.

A soft tongue glances out along her lips as before she says, “Believe me, it was my pleasure.” She rubs her finger around the rim of her glass and you quirk your brow at the clear soda filling it. “Pulled the unlucky DD straw tonight,” she explains with a smile, and then sends a questioning glance to your own virgin drink.

“Looks like we’re suffering the same fate,” you smile, taking a sip and letting the bright citrus coat your senses.

“Sorry to pull you away from your friends.” She’s not sorry. But then, neither are you.

“Don’t be, I’m sure it won’t be her last bachelorette party,” you tell her. “I’d rather be here anyway.” You grin as her eyes follow your fingers, plucking one of the cherries from your drink. Her eyes grow even darker as you slip the fruit between your matching lips. “So, are you a regular?” Eyes snap up to yours, shameless at being caught but caught off guard by the question. “You seem to know the bartender pretty well.”

Understanding dawns as she answers, “I do come here pretty often, yes. It’s a good place to blow off steam with friends after work.” She glances at her friends by the pool table, a smug grin you don’t quite understand pulling at her lips. “Penny, the bartender, is friends with my boss, too, so we know each other pretty well.”

“A regular in a Navy bar?” you question.

“I imagine it’s a common occurrence when you’re in the Navy,” she jests.

“What you do in the Navy?”

“I’m a fighter pilot.” The way she says it is so self-assured, cocky in the hottest way, but not quite arrogant. You have to press your thighs a little tighter try and calm down.

“That sounds…” So goddamn hot. Ridiculously sexy. Fuck me please. You clear your throat. “Very impressive.”

“What do you do?” She tilts her head a little bit when she asks, innocent if her eyes didn’t give her away. Innocent, if it weren’t for the way her hair hangs away from her neck now, showing the smooth expanse of her skin off. Innocent, if it weren’t for the way you imagine your lipstick blending into her flesh there.

After a deep breath, you tell her about your much less exciting job as an accountant (not the fun kind), and she teases you with stories from her job being a super hot Navy pilot (which she is sure to correct you is actually Naval Aviator, as if that’s supposed to make your panties less wet). She affectionately refers to her co-workers by the pool table as idiots (except for the one with the glasses, who she claims is a sweet potato), and you (mostly) teasingly inform her the bridal party you’re here with are sorority sisters you haven’t been able to shake yet.

“That guy your friend’s dancing with isn’t a very good idea,” Natasha muses as she looks past you.

You turn to follow her gaze, spotting the future bride dancing with the same boy from earlier, somehow even closer together now. “She’s not known for making good decisions, her taste in men at the forefront.”

“And your taste in men?” Natasha asks, eyes boring into yours.

“I prefer something a little,” you lean closer, scratching your nails lightly across her thighs, gaze on her lips, “softer.”

The moment is interrupted by a whining voice barging in on the two of you.

“Hello ladies.” Your jarred out of your less than pure thoughts, sudden annoyance growing to match Natasha’s irritated groan.

Bright blonde hair, with a coif he no doubt spent too much time on, and a toothpick sticking out between grinning white teeth stare expectantly at you. “Can I help you?”

“I just wanted to introduce myself.” If he picked up on the disinterest in your tone, he doesn’t let it show, seemingly undeterred. “Name’s Hangman.”

“Okay.”

“What’s your name?” He leers, his eyes raking slowly over your body. His gaze tempers the heat that Natasha’s had scorched. “I’ll need it for later.”

In his dreams. “No.”

His smile slips just a fraction, but he still doesn’t seem to be picking up on the hint. Or he’s just ignoring it. You’ll have to ask where these Navy personnel get this unbridled confidence and if there’s any extra to go around. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, nodding at your half empty Shirley.

“No.”

The smile finally falls from his face as he shifts back and forth on his feet, glancing between you and Natasha, who is barely contain containing her glee between her tightly pressed lips. “Nice meeting you,” he finally mutters before shuffling off.

“That is the hottest thing I have ever seen.” Natasha is looking at you almost in awe, mouth agape, eyes elated.

You smirk before rising.

Rough denim rubs against the skin of your thighs where your dress has ridden up when you slip off the stool, standing in between her open knees, far closer than necessary. Dark eyes flit up and down your body, hazy and clouded, catching on the bare skin visible, before meeting your gaze again. The tips of your fingers brush lightly over her legs for a moment, before flattening your palms over her thighs, her breath hitching at the contact.

“I’m going to order my friends a ride,” your breath washes over her lips, crossing the small space between you with ease, “and then I’m going to wait outside.” Your lips ghost over the apple of her cheek in a smile, close enough to feel the heat rushing under her skin, before they finally whisper your name into her ear. She’ll need it later.

Reaching into your half empty glass, you pluck the still damp cherry from where it rests on the ice, hanging by the stem between the tips of your fingers. You can’t help the sly grin pulling at your lips, the rush of excitement while her dark eyes watch, transfixed, as you place the fruit delicately on your tongue.

You’re still smug when you make it back to your table. “You guys ready to go?” you ask around the knotted stem held between your teeth, pulling out your phone and opening up a ride share app.

“We just got our last round.”

“Great,” you smile cheerily, confirming a ride, “you should be done just in time for your Uber to be here.”

“You’re not seriously ditching us for that chick at the bar, are you?” your friend cries, leaning emphatically across the table towards you. “You can’t leave me with them!” You glance over at the mess that is your friends, leaning on each other for support in their drunken stupor. It does make you feel a little bad, ditching her with a bunch of wasted bridesmaids. She’s been one of your closest friends since college and you’re both pretty sure you were only asked to be in the wedding to meet the bride’s manic number, anyway.

“I’m sorry.” You glance over at Natasha talking to her friends by the pool table. God, how is she so hot? “But I kind of have to,” you wince. “I’ll pay for your In N’ Out tonight. And I’ll take you to lunch tomorrow. That German place that you like.”

Her lips form a thin line as she flares. “Breakfast at the place downtown.”

You see Natasha walking towards the exit, so you quickly counter, “Brunch down by the water.”

In reality she only takes a few seconds to answer, but it feels like an eternity the longer Natasha waits for you outside. “Fine.”

“You’re the best!” you squeal, kissing her on her grimacing cheek. “See you tomorrow!”

“For your sake I hope she’s good in bed!” She yells as you follow after Natasha.

_ _

“Hey, Bradshaw!” Nat yells, walking quickly towards Bradley and Jake. “You’ve got to get an Uber tonight.”

“Seriously, Nat?” Bradley drops his pool cue onto the table with a clatter. “I bought her that drink!”

Nat pauses, thoughtful for a moment before a look of remorse graces her features. “You’re right,” she sighs, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for that, Rooster,” she smiles, patting him on the arm a couple times before turning on her heel and heading towards the door.

“You’re the worst!” Bradley calls out, Jake’s laughter echoing in the background.

“Love you too!”

_ _

Natasha is easy to spot once you’re outside, leaning back against a sleek car just a few spaces down. The cool night air soothes the heat under your skin from the crowded bar as your heels dig into the barely packed sand. You should’ve worn flats.

You slip your fingers through the beltloops of her jeans, pulling your hips flush together. Hooded eyes gaze down at your lips and the knotted stem between them.

“That’s a cute trick,” she husks, “think you could teach me?” Strong hands slide over your hips, bunching the fabric of your dress as her hands grip the backs of your thighs and pulls you closer.

“Maybe.” You hold the stem between your teeth, grinning, and lean in just close enough for her to close her lips around the other end. You tease the tip of your tongue against her as you let the stem go. “If you’re good.” She leans forward, and you turn your head at the last moment, her lips connecting with your cheek and gliding across your skin. Electricity crackles between you as you whisper in her ear, asking of the car behind her, “Is this you?”

Breathlessly, a yes falls from her lips. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of her jeans, you relish in her shudder and the tightening grip of her hands. Pressing yourself impossibly closer, you ask, “What are you waiting for, then?”

_ _

Red shines through the windshield, the stop light illuminating the interior of Natasha’s car. Gasps falling from her lips fill the space with sound, the skin of her neck smooth under your tongue. Sweet, like cinnamon.

“You feel so good,” you sigh against her, nipping as she tilts her head for better access. Heat burns through the denim under your palm as your hand glides higher up her thigh. “I wonder how good you taste.” Your teeth smile into her skin, her pulse thrumming beneath them. A rapid beat.

Your hand reaches the apex of her thighs, pressing barely into her core. You consider, briefly, moving higher. The shiny button of her jeans, how easy it would be to pop it open, slipping your hand insi–

A car horn behind you blares loudly, pulling you from your musings. Natasha is now bathed in the green of changed street light, eyes wide and unfocused. White knuckles clutch the wheel and the gearshift. The car lurches forward, stalling.

“Fuck.” It’s a quiet mutter between deliberate breaths. Turning the key in the ignition, the car starts again quickly. Relaxing back in your seat, you admire the flush of her skin in the now dim light. Your grin grows with every sharp look she sends you as your fingers rub circles on her thigh.

It’s nothing short of a miracle you make it the rest of the way to her house without incident, you think, as she fumbles her keys while your breath washes over her neck. The lock clicks, and the door flies open before it’s slamming shut again from the force of Natasha pressing you up against the inside of it.

“You think you’re so funny,” she whispers against your skin.

“I’m hilarious.” Wet kisses trail up your neck. Strong yet soft hands push the hem of your dress up around your hips. Her groan rumbles over you when her fingers grip into the bare flesh of your backside.

“You’re a menace.” Her mouth is on yours before you have a chance to respond, lips finally slotting together. Nudging your legs apart, her firm thigh presses up into you. The soaked scrap of fabric that barely passes for underwear rubs a wet spot into her pant leg as you grind against her.

She uses your gasp as an invitation, licking into your mouth. She tastes like citrus soda and mint gum. Her hair is silk between your fingers and her hands are smooth as they slide over your thighs, hooking into the string of your thong and pushing it down. You pull back, gasping for air. Fingers freeing from her hair, they slide down over her chest, pushing her backwards. Her knees hit the back of the couch with a thud and she falls down onto it, looking up at you with dark eyes and a grin that matches your own.

Settling on top of her, the rough press of her jeans against your wet clit has your head tipping back in a moan. Her lips on your neck distract you from her hands behind you, until they’ve pulled the zipper of your dress down and the cool air hits your back. You can’t pull It off of your shoulders fast enough. Her lips on your chest. Her hands gripping your hips. Your body rocking into her more feverishly with every passing second.

You come with a sharp gasp, Natasha filling all of your senses as you clutch her tighter. Her gentle touch and whispered words bring you down from your high softly, sinking further into her.

She guides your wrinkled dress up and off your body. “Fuck,” she groans, eyes raking you in as her hands glide across the expanse of your body, “you’re incredible.”

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you sigh pulling her t-shirt up over her head and unhooking the clasp of her bra. You reclaim her lips as your fingers undo the button of her pants. “And so wet for me,” you moan into her mouth. Standing, you pull her with you and let her guide you to her bedroom where you lay her out across her mattress.

You blaze a trail of kisses across her heaving chest. Between the valley of her breasts, over the swell of her body, mapping every piece of her with your tongue. Blunt nails, scratching lightly at your scalp, dig deeper as you bring her nipple between your lips. Licking and sucking, you pull the breath from her lips in gasps and moans. Back arching with every press.

You continue on your path. Charting across her muscled abs, peeking into the dip of her naval, nipping just above the band of her underwear. Glancing up, you grin at the pink flushed across her neck and chest. You hold her dark eyes with yours as you lean back, fingers tucking into her waist band as you peel her jeans down her legs. Tossing them to the side, your gaze falls to her center.

“Someone’s eager,” you whisper, smiling against the calf resting on your shoulder. A dark spot covers the center of her panties, her wetness having soaked through, making them three shades darker. Reaching out, you stroke your finger across the fabric. Delighting in the shudder that ripples through her.

“Someone’s a tease.” Her words are breathless. Eyes cloudy as you meet them again. You can’t help it, really, when you pitch forward. Sliding her leg off your shoulder to wrap it around your waist instead. Pressing your lips to hers in a hard kiss.

“Do you want it, baby?” you ask as you roll your hips into her. Her answering ‘yes’ is a barely noticeable moan. Her pulse thunders under her skin as you latch onto her neck. “Do you want me to show you how I tie a knot in a cherry stem?” you moan, caressing the shell of her ear.

“Fuck, yes,” she cries. Heels dig into your thighs, pushing you closer. The space between you is almost non-existent as she arches up, pressing your chests together. Her nails digging scratches across your back. You kiss another path down her body, fingertips flittering across her sides, slipping into the waistband of her panties. Your lips ghost featherlight touches across the soaked fabric. Her scent is already driving you crazy.

Sliding them down her smooth legs, you cast them aside as your eyes glaze over. Lying before you, bare and glistening, perfect pussy dripping wet, you think Natasha might be the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.

You plant kisses along her legs. Up one thigh and down the other and back again. Littering them around her lips, breath lofting across her slit, blowing over her clit.

You were sober when you left the bar, not a drop of alcohol in you, but you’re wasted on Natasha now. Drinking her in until you’re dizzy.

Looking up, you see her propped up on her elbows, her hooded eyes meeting your gaze. Her thighs are tense already when you wrap arms around them, pulling her cunt in closer to you. “Your pussy is so pretty,” you breathe, watching her throat hitch as you blow onto her clit. “So wet.” Your nose tickles at her pubic hair. “And I bet you taste so sweet.” Your hover over her, tongue aching to reach out and feel her on your taste buds.

It feels like a victory when her hand reaches out, finding purchase on the back of your head. “Why don’t you find out,” falling from her lips hungerly as she urges you forward.

It’s intoxicating. The first swipe of your tongue through her folds. Her taste filling your mouth, sweeter than you could have ever imagined. She’s a drug, and you’re ready to become an addict. Already are one, even.

You lap her up with broad strokes, nudging her clit and soaking your chin. Sinking one finger into her, and then two. She’s so warm around you as you stroke her, searching for the right spot. You’re rewarded when you find it, her hips bucking into your mouth.

“You look good between my legs,” she moans, eye dark and lips parted.

Fuck. She needs her own twelve step program.

You circle her clit with your tongue, tying the stem in a loop. Matching the rhythm of your thrusts, you curl your fingers against that sensitive spot inside of her. With a flick, you knot the stem of her clit as you slip a third finger inside her. Hips roll against your mouth, grinding your tongue harder against her clit and plunging your fingers deeper inside of her. You can tell she’s close, the way her thighs press closer together. Her toes curling in against the small of your back.

With a few more well placed thrusts and strokes, she comes undone around you. Her heels dig into your back and her thighs clamp around your head. You slow your movements, easing her down from her high gently. She softens, boneless and sated, and you rest your head against her thigh as her breathing mellows.

“Was I sweet enough?” You can hear the smile in her voice without needing to look, and it brings your own smile to your lips. You place a gentle kiss to the juncture of her thigh before trailing up.

“Sweeter than all the cherries in the world,” you smile, before bringing your lips together again.

You’re lost in her all over again at the first brush of your tongues.

You never want to be clean of her.

_ _

You can feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, shining in through the east facing window. The sheets surrounding you smooth and body-warm. The soft pressure of Natasha’s lips pulling you awake. A happy sigh escapes as you turn to face her, murmured good mornings lost between your meeting lips. It so easy to get lost in her, her warmth and softness. You don’t even notice the ringing until it’s almost finished.

“You’re phone’s ringing.”

“They can leave a message,” she breathes between kisses.

The ringing stops for a brief moment, before the shrill tone is sounding out again. Natasha’s groan rumbles against you. You giggle as she reaches for her phone from the pocket of her discarded jeans, licking your lips in appreciation at her ass now on display.

“What do you want, Rooster?” she barks in lieu of a greeting as she flops back onto her pillow.

You don’t pay much attention to the conversation, only making out something about going to the beach. Your lips find her neck as your leg hooks over her own. “Tell him you’re busy getting fucked,” you whisper in her ear, your hand trailing lower playfully.

She smiles, letting her own hand slide down your backside and between your butt cheeks with a quirk of her brow.

You grin grows at her movements. “That’s a lot confidence for a total bottom,” you tease.

Her mouth falls in a silent gasp, clearly not paying attention to Rooster anymore. She gives him a quick excuse, she’ll make it to the beach if she can, and quickly hangs up before he’s even got a chance to reply.

“Excuse me?” the grin on her face belies her sharp tone.

“You heard me, pillow princess.”

“I am not a pillow princess,” she asserts. “And if you’ll remember correctly,” she adds before turning you both so you’re underneath of her, “I made you come three times last night.”

“I remember you underneath me begging,” you counter, rolling you both back over again. “But, you can prove me wrong after I take you to dinner Friday night.”

“You’re taking me out to dinner?”

“Mhm. I have to thank you for the drink. Properly.”

You kiss her quickly before getting out of the bed. Strolling over to her dresser, you pull the top draw open. It’s full of bras and underwear.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for clothes to borrow,” you glance over your shoulder, smiling. “I owe my friend brunch and you’ve got a beach date.”

Natasha gets up, opening another drawer and finding clothes for you with a matching smile.

“Take a shower with me? And then take me to get my car?”

It’s fine if you’re just a little bit late to brunch.

_ _

“Well, look who it is,” Hangman calls loudly, spotting Phoenix strolling towards them on the beach.

“Hello ladies,” she greets.

“Did you have fun ditching us last night?” Rooster ignores her jab, getting straight to his point.

“I did, in fact.”

“I had to share an Uber with Bagman,” he gripes.

“And I had to listen to Bradshaw bitch the whole ride.”

“Awe, poor babies,” she says, not a hint of remorse in her voice.

“I hope it was worth it.”

“It was. I’m seeing her again on Friday,” Phoenix states with a smug grin.

“You gonna bring her by the bar?” Rooster asks, a smile starting to tug at his lips. “So I can tell her you stole my drink?”

Calmly, with a small step towards him and grin still affixed, she replies, “Bradshaw, you ever tell her about that drink and I’ll shave your mustache off in your sleep.”

Rooster smile is gone in a second, hand flying to cover his mustache protectively. Hangman howls as Phoenix smiles cheerily before walking towards the volleyball net some of the other daggers are gathered around.

“Coyote! We kicking their asses, or what?” she yells, Coyote’s excited response coming from the distance.

“You’re a jerk!” Rooster yells at her retreating form.

“That’s my future wife!” she calls back over her shoulder.

_ _

taglist: @wkndwlff @foreverrandomwritings @roosterforme @himbos-on-ice @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @kmc1989

#fic rwc #natasha trace x reader #natasha trace smut #natasha trace #smut

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maximoffwitch · 1 month

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https://www.tumblr.com/maximoffwitch/685083648737853440/whats-a-milf?source=share

I go back to this ^ story of yours routinely because it is just so *chefs kiss*

I love the fact that she got offended when she figured out the real meaning only to immediately turn horny when R agreed 😂

hahaha thank you!!! i loved this idea when i saw it and i knew it was so milf wanda. so glad you enjoy it 🫶🏼🤗

#anon #answered

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maximoffwitch · 1 month

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hi friends … currently bored w thoughts abt my blorbos. come chat w me abt wanda, nat, johanna, maria, or any of my stories?? 🥹

#text

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maximoffwitch · 1 month

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an idea for a second part of just how fast the night changes popped into my head 👀🤭

#text

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maximoffwitch · 2 months

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Hiiii are you planning on writing a second part of “just how fast the night changes”?😊😊 I loved that Wanda fic so much

hiii thank u ☺️ i am definitely open to write a second part!! where do u guys wanna see it go? 👀

#anon #answered

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maximoffwitch · 2 months

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🥹 so soft! their banter is so cute and domestic

Hi hello! I saw that you opened your request again. I’ve got one for Johanna Mason. It is post war and reader has been helping Johanna through her trauma and healing. Johanna has taken up wood carvings and during a rainy day, when reader checks up on her carving progress, Johanna responds happily and includes “I’m so happy to be alive” at the end. And then she realizes that for the first time she really meant it. Maybe she gets emotionally happy at that milestone too.

The Sun Shines Once More

Johanna Mason x Fem!Reader

warnings: ooc Johanna, (man baby Johanna..), not proofread

word count: 1224

a/n: this took me 5 hours (most of which was spent scrolling through tiktok after forgetting what i was doing)

✮

“Jo?” you mumble as you’re brought out of your peaceful sleep by the shuffling woman.

Johanna freezes at the sound of your voice. her eyes snap towards you, guilt flashing across her face for having disturbed you. "shit," she mutters under her breath, an apology quickly following. "sorry," she murmurs, making room for you to snuggle closer to her, your eyes still squeezed shut and your mind fuzzy with sleep.

curiosity nudges you towards wakefulness. "why're you up?" you mumble, peeling your eyes open to look up at the brunette. it is still dark outside, and the soft pitter-patter of rain against the cabin window only adds to your confusion. nothing but a serious case of insomnia could have pushed Johanna out of bed this early.

"got antsy," she avoids your gaze, her eyes darting away from yours.

you hum in response, burying your face in her bicep as you try to come up with something to say, "what were you gonna do, baby?" you finally ask.

Johanna takes a moment to respond. "was gonna go work.."

"outside?"

"outside."

you can't help but roll your eyes at her stubbornness. "you're not going outside, it's raining, stupid."

her glare is almost palpable. "i'm not fucking blind."

a silent standoff ensues, your mutual glares clashing in the dim light. eventually, you relent, "can't you just work on a smaller project.. one you can do inside? maybe use a piece of firewood."

she huffs, obviously not thrilled about the change in plans, but she considers your words. "i guess i can," she finally mumbles, her voice gruff.

you smile in satisfaction, "okay then, you go do that." you give her arm a playful shove, rolling away from her to reclaim your sleep.

⚘

after a few hours you get awoken again by a particularly loud crash of thunder. you groan in annoyance, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you push yourself out of the comfort of your bed, making your way to the cabin kitchen to get something to eat.

as you enter the kitchen, you notice the hunched over form of Johanna at the small dining table. you tilt your head, puzzled at what she could possibly be doing. then you remember your conversation from earlier in the morning.

a smile tugs at your lips, "how's it going, baby?" you ask softly, walking over to her. you place your hand gently on her shoulder, careful not to startle her.

Johanna looks up at you, a grin lighting up her face, "good," she hums in reply.

curiosity piqued, you try to get a glimpse of her new project, "whatcha working on?"

her chuckle is low and teasing, "not telling," she says, pulling the sculpture against her chest to hide it from your prying eyes.

you huff in mock annoyance, "why not? i just wanna see your pretty art."

"it's a surprise, dumbass," she retorts, rolling her eyes as she glares up at you.

you squint your eyes back down at her, "ugh," you grunt, pushing away from her and walking back to the kitchen, "what ever am i to do without my lovely girlfriend's attention?" your words are playful, a light tone teasing the edges of your voice as you begin to prepare something to eat.

Johanna chooses to ignore your dramatics, her response limited to a small chuckle.

the cabin is filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the steady rhythm of Johanna's carving knife against the block of wood.

"want anything to eat, Jo?" you ask, breaking the silence as you pull out a carton of eggs from the fridge.

Johanna's head snaps up at your question, her eyes brightening at the prospect of food. "yes please," she responds.

you raise an eyebrow at her, "and what do you want?"

"whatever you're making. i'm starved," Johanna mutters, shuffling in her chair as her gaze lingers on you.

with a sigh, you turn back towards the counter, "did you eat anything for breakfast?" you already know the answer but ask anyway.

"no."

you can't help but huff in exasperation, "what am I gonna do with you, girl.."

a wide grin spreads on Johanna's face, "feed me?"

you roll your eyes, hiding the smile that threatens to spill over your lips. "eggs and bacon okay with you?"

"and toast?"

you turn to her, squinting your eyes suspiciously, "you gonna toast your own bread?"

Johanna grunts in reply, turning back to her work.

"needy ass," you grumble, reaching for the bacon. but despite your words, you can't help the warmth that spreads in your chest knowing that Johanna trusts you enough to let you take care of her.

the brunette merely mimics your grumble, a teasing note in her voice as the two of you lapse into silence once more.

the soft sizzle of bacon and eggs cooking on the stove fills the cabin, accompanied by the rhythmic sound of Johanna's carving.

after a while, the food is ready. you carefully dish it out onto two plates and walk over to the table. "here, baby," you say as you place a heaping plate of food in front of Johanna.

her face lights up at the sight of the food, and she quickly pushes her carving knife and the half-finished sculpture away so she can dig in.

you seat yourself next to her, an eyebrow raised in question as you watch her eat. "you're not going to wash your hands?" you ask, a hint of judgment creeping into your voice. Johanna, however, chooses to ignore your words, focusing solely on the food in front of her.

you roll your eyes in defeat, "whatever, nasty." but despite your words, you can't help but admire the small sculpture that now sits abandoned on the table.

"what is it?" you ask, nodding towards the piece of wood.

Johanna looks up from her plate, her eyes following your gaze to the sculpture. "it's you," she says.

"me?"

"yeah. you."

you can't help but smile, "it's very pretty, i love it."

"very pretentious of you," she teases between mouthfuls of food.

you huff, rolling your eyes, but stay silent, choosing instead to focus on your meal.

you and Johanna have this routine, comfortable silences punctuating your day. she's not one for idle chatter, and you respect her boundaries. you don't force anything on her, not even a simple conversation.

eventually, Johanna finishes her meal, pushing her empty plate away as she pulls her sculpture back towards her, eager to resume her work.

you remain seated, watching her as she works, fascinated by the way her hands shape the wood into intricate forms.

"hey, Jo?" you say, your voice soft as you lean forward, your eyes still locked on her hands.

"mhm?" she hums in response.

"i love you."

Johanna looks up at you, a cheeky grin on her face. "yeah?"

you nod, holding her gaze. "i love you too then," she chuckles out her response before returning to her work.

it’s silent for a moment before she speaks again, “i’m happy, y’know.” she mumbles, not looking up from the wood as she glides her knife over it. “that i’m alive ‘n able to live this life with you.”

your heart clenches at her words. "yeah?" you whisper back, mimicking her previous response to your words.

she chuckles softly, nodding in response, "yeah."

#fic rec #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason

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maximoffwitch · 2 months

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NEED them

the bet

sorority!wandanat x reader

summary: tri delta and delta nu have a bet, you get caught in the cross fire

warnings: power bottom!wandanat, choking, smut 18+ only

a/n: repost! they're back

🚩 warnings are clearly stated please do not report/flag :) 🚩

words: 2.7 k | feedback is always welcome | masterlist

divider source | gif source

Delta Nu and Tri Delta were known as the rival sororities on campus. Always the two every girl wanted to get into, the two to raise the most funds for whatever cause and the two who were always at each other’s throats. One week, the heads of the two sororities met and made a bet. Celibacy week. The house that broke first would have to give up their summer funding for parties, only relying on future fundraisers for party budget.

Usually, these bets wouldn’t affect you all that much. You even liked them sometimes, Natasha would get especially frustrated when things didn’t go her way and she would always come to her trusty roommate for some… stress relief.

But this bet, this bet sucked.

Not only was Natasha extremely sexually frustrated and on edge, but you had also found yourself becoming dependant on both Natasha and Wanda for your own stress relief. And now neither of them could come to your aid.

You tried though. And you were persistent. But Natasha is a more determined when she’s pissed off. And there was nothing that pissed her off more than having to share you. She noticed how much you would be on your phone and how you spent more and more time out of the apartment, and how your dirty laundry would have the faint smell Natasha recognized from meetings with Delta Nu.

You snaked your hands onto Natasha’s hips, pressing her between your body and the counter, making sure the outline of the silicone toy between your legs was clearly felt through your sweatpants. Natasha whimpered, her hips subconsciously pressing back against you. She turned around in your hold, her hand coming up to grip your throat and pull you towards her.

You turned her towards the kitchen island, hooking your hands under her thighs and propping her up. Her fingers pressed the sides of your throat and you moaned into her mouth, your lips moving perfectly against each other. She bucked her hips closer to the edge, feeling your cool fingertips sliding up her thigh.

All of a sudden, Natasha clenched her thighs shut, trapping your hand between her thighs as she pushed you away from her with clenched eyes. Her hand loosened its grip on your throat as your other hand slid down her leg.

“I can’t let her win this too,” You tilted your head, about to ask her what she meant when she hopped down from the counter, giving you a peck on the cheek before walking into her room.

You frustratedly closed the door to your room, plopping down on your bed and pulling out your phone, starting to text the only other woman who could tend to your needs at the moment.

it’s just a stupid bet, what’s the big deal? nobody has to know, wanda

You rolled your eyes, waiting patiently for the three little dots to appear.

did you forget you live with one of them

she has a name you know

whatever it is, no. I can’t.

I’ll get rid of her, please?

Wanda tapped her fingertips against her table, biting her lip in concentration. She huffed out a sigh, typing out a half-assed excuse, part of her already thinking of what she’d wear to your place.

if this fucks up my chances as delta nu president next year i’m holding you personally responsible get rid of her

You got up from your bed, grabbing your wallet and pulling out a twenty dollar bill. You walked to Natasha’s bedroom, knocking on the door before you heard her voice telling you to come in.

“Do you wanna do me a favor?” You asked, scratching the back of your neck as you sat on her bed. She scrolled further down the online store’s website, clicking on a bodycon dress. She hummed, encouraging you to keep talking. “Can you go to the store and grab ice cream?”

“Why do I have to go?”

“Well, you’ve got all this pent up energy you can’t release right? Jog to the store.”

She hummed and stopped scrolling, turning her chair to your direction. You offered her the twenty dollar bill and she snatched it away from your hands. “Fine.”

“Thanks,” You smiled, getting up from her bed and making your way back to your room. Natasha found it odd but didn’t think about it too much. She put on her running shoes and slung a fanny pack over her shoulder before heading out the door, leaving your twenty dollar bill on the counter.

You heard the front door click shut and quickly texted Wanda.

she’s jogging to the store, you have like twenty minutes to get here

Wanda stood up out of her desk, sliding off her sweatpants and stepping into tight yoga pants. She packed her laptop and notebooks into her bag and walked out the door, grabbing a baseball cap before she left the house. She walked to your apartment and was there ten minute later, trying to ignore the smug smirk on your face as you ushered her into your bedroom.

You closed the door and pushed Wanda against the wooden surface, bringing her lips onto yours. She closed her eyes, getting lost in the feeling of your lips against hers while her bag slid down her arm to rest gently on the floor. She caught herself when your hands started drifting up her sweater, making her push you back onto your bed. You fell backwards, propping yourself up on your elbows as she straddled your lap.

“You don’t get to call the shots today,” She gripped your hair and brought your lips back onto hers, her tongue moving against yours in a heated kiss. Your hands came to rest on her ass, making her buck hips into you and fuck, this was a bad idea.

“Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop,” You smirked up at her, making her grip your chin and push you into the bed, rolling her eyes as she got off your lap.

“I do,” She groaned, standing up again and moving to her back on the floor bringing it to the bed. “I even brought work to do.”

“You never stop, do you?” You asked, as she sat against the headboard, looking at you while she type on her computer and you pulled out your video game controller.

“If I did, I wouldn’t become president of Delta Nu next year,” She said, the sound her her nails clicking on the keys echoing in your ears.

“Easy there, champ, don’t your sisters have to elect you?” You joked as you clicked away on your controller, eyes glued to the screen on the wall.

“Yeah, but I’m not worried about that,” She said, her eyes drifting to the way your bottom lip was caught between your teeth and your fingers flexed so easily around the controller. It all sent a wave of arousal straight to her core.

Wanda pushed her laptop off her lap, the crawled over to you, pushing your controller aside and straddling your hips once again.

“Ready to break the rules, Madam President?”

“The rule is I can’t have sex,” She said, bringing her lips onto yours. “Nobody said anything about touching.”

She gripped your wrists and led them under her shirt, making you smirk against her mouth. Her soft moans filled your ears and vibrated through your body, your fingertips pressing harder against the soft skin of her chest. Your lips trailed down her neck, her hands gripping onto your hair as she arched into you. You flipped her over onto the bed, kneeling between her thighs and continuing to kiss down her body.

Wanda moaned as she felt the shape of your strap press against her. Her fingernails dug into your scalp as you sucked on her skin, not hard enough to leave a mark but just enough to leave Wanda wanting more.

Wanda felt her desperation heighten, feeling like maybe, just maybe she would break the bet. Just as she was about to start tugging your shirt up your body, your head picked up, hearing Natasha open the door to the apartment. You looked at Wanda, a smirk tugging on your lips as you kissed up to her ear, softly shushing her.

“We have to be quiet now, angel,” You said, bringing her lips back onto yours. She continued kissing you, her eyes bursting open when the idea popped into her head. If she wanted anything with you tonight, she was gonna have to share you with Natasha.

But Wanda couldn’t just bring this up, and she wouldn’t be able to wait another day, celibacy week was almost over. She had to act now. And it had to be Natasha’s idea. Wanda started whining against your lips, at first softly, but getting increasingly louder.

Natasha walked through the door, stopping at the fridge to grab a water bottle as she caught her breath. She removed her earphones and moved closer to you door, hearing shuffling and muffled whining from the other side of the door.

“I’m back from the store,” She called through the door, making you pull away from Wanda and place your hand over the brunette’s mouth.

“Uhmm, you can put the ice cream in the freezer, I’ll get it late-OUCH!” You hissed at the sharp pain on your fingers, turning your gaze back to Wanda who had a grin on her face and she gripped your forearm over her shirt.

“Is everything okay?” Natasha said, walking into your room. She froze at the sight in front if her: Wanda pinned underneath you, one of your hands under her shirt while the other hovered above her mouth. The redhead’s eyebrows raised and a smug grin graced her features. “What do we have here.”

You pulled yourself off Wanda and walked over to Natasha gripping her hips and turning her around, pushing her towards the door. “We didn’t do anything, she didn’t lose the bet.”

Natasha stopped in her movements, all the pent up frustration she jogged off immediately returning. If anyone was gonna tiptoe around the grey area of the bet with you, it was gonna be her. There was no way in hell she would let Wanda have you all to herself. She turned around to face you before her gaze drifted to Wanda, who was still laying on the bed, her gaze completely locked onto Natasha.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” She simply said. Natasha’s lips turned upwards, her hands immediately pushing you back into your room.

“Now we just gotta make sure you keep your mouth shut,” Natasha’s eyes locked onto yours, the back of your legs finally reaching the bed, making you fall back on it. Wanda kneeled next to you, standing over you next to Natasha as you propped yourself up on your elbows.

“You guys make it seem like you both weren’t practically begging me to fuck you earlier today,” You rolled your eyes, watching the two girls look over you like you were the last meal on Earth. Wanda rolled her eyes, leaning over and gripping your chin.

“Let’s put that mouth to better use,” Wanda shuffled off the bed, sliding her pants down her legs along with her underwear, Natasha quickly following her movements. Wanda was about to climb back onto the bed, but Natasha held her back, making the brunette look at her with a frown.

“I live here, I get to call dibs on her face,” The redhead said, moving her body up to your face. Wanda rolled her eyes, grabbing the hem of your sweatpants and pulling them down your body, revealing her favorite red strap.

“You tell another living soul about this and you’re moving out,” Natasha lowered her pussy onto your mouth before you had a chance to answer, her hips rolling onto your face as you stuck your tongue out. Natasha’s fingers gripped onto your hair, angling your head back as she bucked her hips onto you. Wanda groaned as she sunk down onto the toy between your legs, you could feel her weight shift on your hips as she bounced on your strap, your hands gripping the back of her knees and pulling her closer.

Wanda moaned, her nails digging into the skin of your stomach as she steadied herself. The stinging sensation made you moan into Natasha, the vibrations moving through her body and making her thighs squeeze around your head. They started off with a terrible pace, the two bucking their hips at the worst moments together. Your hands gripped Natasha’s hips as you pushed your strap deeper into Wanda, briefly halting her movements. Wanda screamed out in pleasure, the tip of the strap pressing against the perfect spot while you rolled Natasha’s hips onto your face, keeping your eyes on her as she contorted her face in pleasure.

Wanda and Natasha settled into the perfect pace, working off each other and making you groan in pleasure every now and then. Natasha pressed down onto your face, her arousal already dripping down your chin. Wanda whined, desperately bucking her hips, trying to reach her high, but not quite getting there.

“Do you need a little help, sweetheart?” Natasha cooed condescendingly at the brunette, making Wanda more frustrated than she already was. You lifted you chin up, sucking Nat’s clit into your mouth, making her body shudder. Natasha lifted herself off you, before turning around and straddling your face once again. You circled your thumbs onto Wanda’s legs, as she continued moving against you. Natasha gripped her chin and brought their lips together, her hands moving town to Wanda’s chest, tweaking her nipples as you pumped the toy deeper into Wanda.

One of Natasha’s hands moved up to Wanda’s throat, lightly squeezing the sides as she pulled away from the brunette. She moaned, bucking her hips faster against your face as you reached up to her hips and pressed her hips down onto you as you sucked on her clit. “Cum with me, Wanda.”

You felt Wanda’s arousal soak the strap just as Natasha’s hips stilled and her body shook over you, her orgasm washing over her like waves. Wanda brought their lips together once again, both girls using your body to ride out their orgasms, hair clinging to their skin as the caught their breath.

You licked Natasha clean before she pulled away from your face, letting you sit up and lift Wanda off you. Natasha moved off the bed to look for her underwear, ready to leave like she usually did after the two of you had your time. You leaned Wanda against the headboard, bringing your lips to hers then kissing down her body, the brunette’s hands entangling in your hair as your buried your head between her thighs, carefully running your tongue through her sensitive folds.

Natasha watched as you cared for Wanda the same way you would care for her, feeling a pang of jealousy course through her at Wanda’s soft laughter as you came up and kissed her cheek. Wanda moved to the side, allowing you to settle agains the headboard before she settled next to you, curling to your side.

“Uhm,” Natasha felt embarrassed watching, a prominent shade of pink gracing her cheeks as she avoided your gaze. “I’ll uh-”

“You can stay if you want,” Wanda said, pulling the blanket on the other side of you down, as you focused you attention on the tv.

“She’s right,” You said, secretly hoping neither woman noticed how much you desperately hoped she would.

“Okay,” Natasha leaned against the headboard, arms crossed over her chest as she focused her attention at the tv. You nudged her shoulder, the motioned for her to inch closer, making her roll her eyes but moved closer nonetheless.

The three of your comfortably watched cartoons and talked for another few hours, not able to keep your hands to each other for most of the time. It was around 2 am when you finally closed your eyes, Natasha laying unconscious curled to your side. Wanda drew patters on your skin with her fingertips, the reflection of the tv glimmer bouncing off your phone catching her attention. She waited another few episodes to make sure you were both asleep before reaching over and snapping a picture before sending it to herself and deleting it off your phone.

She fell asleep with a smug smirk on her features, thinking she had the upper hand. What she didn’t know was that the following morning Natasha would do the same thing, snapping a picture of Wanda laying naked with you before tiptoeing her way out of your room to get ready for class.

And yeah, they both were still at each other’s throats, but maybe this bet wasn’t so bad after all.

#fic rec #wandanat x reader #wandanat smut #wandanat #smut

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maximoffwitch · 2 months

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hello my lil bby,, am here to request a small thingy for you valentine’s day celebration thingy!!

pls can a request prompts:

3 - from the bridal carry prompt list

4 (One liner) - from the bridal carry prompt list

and

9 (One liner) - from the oblivious pining prompt list, R saying it if you don’t mind?

with wandanat pleade? thank you my angel💓💓💓

Drunken Promises

pairing: wandanat x reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol and nudity

summary: You’re feeling lonely (and slightly broken-hearted) on Valentine’s Day, so you decided to get wasted. What happens when Wanda and Natasha find you in your drunken state?

word count: 1.5k

a/n: my first piece for my valentine’s day event! sorry for the delay but hopefully y’all still enjoy this. also this is my first time writing wandanat so lmk how it is! :)

Your heart ached as you watched the two women walk into the elevator, their hands interlaced as they giggled to one another.

Everybody in the compound knew, except to the two women themselves, that you were harboring a massive crush on Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff. Ever since you joined the team, having been recruited per Hill’s beaming recommendation, you felt an attraction to them. Despite much encouragement from some of your teammates, you never said anything about it.

Wanda and Natasha were perfectly content in their established relationship, and you weren’t going to be the one to ruin that. Besides, why would two of the most powerful Avengers want to date you, a mere agent who had just recently been promoted.

So there you were, alone on Valentine’s Day, watching the women of your desires leave for their romantic date.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Sam pulled you out of your deprecating thoughts.

“Yeah?” you turned to your friend, Bucky and Pietro on either side of him.

“Wanna get wasted?” the silver-haired man asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Don’t you guys have dates?” you tilted your head. You had been under the impression that the rest of your teammates had their own nights planned for the Hallmark holiday.

“They canceled on us,” Sam waved you off nonchalantly. “So, you in?”

After a moment of contemplation, you shrugged with a nod. “What the heck.”

The three guys cheered, and Bucky slung his arm over your shoulder, as you all walked into the kitchen, heading straight for Tony’s liquor cabinet.

Although in hindsight it may not be the best decision to get drunk with “the three musketeers,” as Steve likes to call them, but at that point, you had nothing to lose.

After a couple rounds of shots and God only knows how long, you were passed out on the couch, snuggled up under a blanket, which Sam had so graciously laid over you. You were awoken from your slumber by the clicking of two pairs of heels.

Groggily, you sat up, immediately wincing at the pounding headache already beginning to form.

“Hey, pretty ladies,” you slurred with a lazy smile on your face. “How was your night?”

Natasha smirked at your drunken state, while Wanda just giggled behind her hand.

“Are you drunk, (Y/N)?”

“Me?” your eyes widened before you shook your head and blew a raspberry. “Nooo.”

“Are you sure?” Wanda bit back a smile, folding her arms across her chest.

“Okay, maybe a little,” you admitted, as you demonstrated with your fingers, pinching them together. “But I’m so happy to see you both!”

You stood up from the couch, nearly tripping over the blanket that had been wrapped around you, and stumbled forward.

Natasha caught you before you could embarrassingly face-plant onto the floor. “Woah, careful there, (Y/N/N).”

Ignoring her words, you started giggling to yourself.

“What’s so funny, dorogoya?” the redhead raised her eyebrow amusedly.

“I just fell for you,” you grinned before looking over at Wanda. “You too, Wands.”

“Alright,” Natasha chuckled, as Wanda’s cheeks tinted red, “I think it’s time to get you to bed.”

“But–,” you protested with a pout, before the older woman gave you a stern look that had you deflating in defeat. “Fine.”

“Can you walk, printsessa? Or do you need me to carry you?”

“I can walk on my own, Natty,” you insisted stubbornly, overestimating your ability to put one foot in front of the other given the amount of alcohol in your body. You had only taken three steps before you started to wobble, your legs weakening and nearly collapsing underneath you. Before you could be greeted by the hard floor, you felt red wisps of magic wrap around you, floating you back over to the two women.

“You sure about that?” Wanda teased, her eyes turning back from red to their normal green once you were within arms reach.

“Thanks, Wands,” you sighed dreamily.

“Come on, drunky,” Natasha playfully rolled her eyes, as she bent down, wrapping her arm around your back and the other under the bend of your knees, carrying you bridal style, “let’s get you to bed.”

As you were swooped up into the Nat’s arms, you closed your eyes contently, letting the warmth from her body envelop you.

“You guys are so lucky to have each other,” you spilled, the tiredness and your drunken state loosening your lips. “You’re both so flawless and amazing and pretty.”

Your lashes fluttered, as you let your head fall back so you could look at Wanda, who was walking by Natasha’s side.

“You’re pretty amazing yourself, dusha moya,” Wanda winked, as she tapped your nose lightly, causing you to blush and bury your face in the crook of Natasha’s neck.

Little did you know that the two women had been eyeing you just as long as you had been admiring them. Because they were already a pair, they wanted to wait until the right moment to approach you and invite you into their relationship. Though you being drunk out of your mind wasn’t an ideal time, it did make it glaringly obvious to Wanda and Natasha about your true feelings, which they’d only had suspicions about before.

“Your arms are so comfy, Nat,” you beamed up at the redhead, her light makeup still perfectly decorating her face even after the night out.

“Do you like being carried, printsessa?” her eyes shone with a teasing glint.

You paused for a moment, biting your lip hesitantly. “I don’t hate it,” you admitted, pulling laughs from both women.

“Good,” Natasha replied, a small smile creeping up onto her face, as she exchanged a knowing look with her girlfriend.

The rest of the walk back to your room was filled with your flirtatious rambling, which they would be sure to tease you about in the future. You complimented everything about them, ranging from their “badass fighting moves” to their “picture-esque physique.”

By the time you had arrived at your door, even Natasha’s face was flushed red, whether it be from laughing at your drunken flirting or from your open compliments, you couldn’t tell.

“We’re here, (Y/N/N),” Nat said, as she set you back down on your own two feet. “You need some help getting into bed?”

“Yes, please,” you yawned, causing the two women to soften.

“Alright, lyubov,” Wanda put her hand on the small of your back, opening the door, as she led you into your room, “here we go.”

As Wanda guided you to your bed, where you immediately laid down, Natasha went into your bathroom to grab a warm washcloth.

“Where are your pajamas, sweetie?” Wanda asked, as she brushed the stray hairs out of your face.

“Bottom drawer,” you mumbled.

While the witch went to retrieve your pjs, Natasha came back with a facecloth in her hand, taking a seat on the side of your bed.

“Sit up, princess,” she gently ordered, giving you no choice but to follow. Once you were upright, Natasha began to lightly wipe your face, as you closed your eyes.

After Nat washed your face, going to return the cloth to the bathroom, Wanda took her place by your side, your sleep shirt and shorts in hand.

“Arms up,” she directed, helping to lift your shirt. “Can you take off your bra, honey? We won’t look.”

“If you wanted to see me shirtless, Maximoff, all you had to do was ask,” you muttered, as you reached behind your back to unclasp your undergarment, not giving the other woman enough time to turn her head.

As she tried not to look down at your bare chest, Wanda slipped your pajama top over your head. “Pants?”

You lifted your hips so she could pull off your jeans and replace them with your soft pajama shorts.

“There,” Wanda patted your thigh, pulling back the covers so you could get under them, “you’re all set.”

“Thank you, Wands,” you hummed, as you snuggled under the blankets, before turning to Natasha who had moved to stand behind her girlfriend. “And thank you, Nat.”

“Of course, printsessa,” Natasha sent you a soft smile. “Anytime.”

Looking up at the two women, you couldn’t help but feel bad for ruining their Valentine’s Day plans.

“You didn’t ruin anything, lyubov,” Wanda cooed, and your eyes widened when you remembered she could read minds. “We love taking care of you.”

Your heart swelled, as you saw Natasha nod in agreement.

“Goodnight, dorogaya,” she whispered, as Wanda squeezed your hand.

“What about my goodnight kiss?” you pouted, jutting out your bottom lip.

“Oh?” Wanda raised her eyebrow, amused. “You want a kiss?”

“I mean I’d totally kiss you if you asked,” you admitted, your words slurred together, earning light chuckles from the two women.

“How about tomorrow morning, when you’re sober, we revisit that offer,” Natasha suggested, looking down at Wanda, who nodded in agreement.

“Okay,” you grinned contently, your eyes already closing as you began to drift off. “Promise?”

“We promise, milaya,” Wanda stood up from the bed and leaned over to kiss your forehead. “Now get some sleep.”

You hummed, a small smile painted over your lips, as you let yourself succumb to sleep, dreaming of Wanda and Natasha and what tomorrow would bring for you three.

---

taglist: @togrowoldinv @likefirenrain @amasimpformilfs @crescent-witch @iliketozoneout @when-wolves-howl @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#self reblog

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maximoffwitch · 2 months

Text

Valentine's Day with Wanda Maximoff

Wanda Maximoff Moodboards | Moodboard Masterlist | Main Masterlist

#this is SO cute #wanda maximoff

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maximoffwitch · 2 months

Text

I AM LOVING THIS SO FAR!!!! ahhh i’m so excited to continue reading this! the character you’ve built is so intriguing ugh i cant wait to see more of r and johanna

I'm Coming For You and I'm Making War [Johanna Mason/Reader] (1/3)

Summary: An orphan from District 10 was no one's pick to win the 68th Hunger Games, but you managed to prove them wrong. You're not impressed with the glitz and glamor of the Capitol and you certainly don't want any of the expectations that come with being a Victor. Not even Finnick Odair's friendship can make you feel any less alone until you meet Johanna Mason. She's everything you didn't know you needed, but when rebellion stirs in the districts after Katniss Everdeen's act of defiance in the 74th Hunger Games that guaranteed not only her survival but Peeta Mellark's as well, it turns out that you might have to face Johanna, Finnick, and everyone you've grown to care about in the 75th Hunger Games. Word Count: 9k Author's Notes: This all started because of a gifset that came across my dash one day and it got the fic plotting wheels going in my brain and here we are. I always thought my first Hunger Games fic would be Finnick/Reader, but Johanna stole my heart and I had to go with this idea. If you like this, please let me know by commenting/reblogging. It would mean so much to me since low reader engagement has really killed my motivation. Title comes from Irresistible by Fall Out Boy.

Part One -- Part Two -- Part Three

#fic rec #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason

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maximoffwitch · 2 months

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this is absolutely adorable 🥹🥰

Valentines Day

Pairing: wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: fluff, tooth rotting fluff, smut, fingering, strap on use (R receiving), oral (W receiving), blink and you'll miss it parent trauma, love ×4, reader being a hopeless romantic

Masterlist

A/N: Happy Valentines Day, my loves!! I hope everyone has a wonderful day filled with love. And if you don't have a Valentine, you do now! ❤️ Just remember you're loved beyond what you think 😊

Thanks for reading! Be my Valentine?

□ Yes

□ No

■ In a delusional relationship with Wanda Maximoff

(I totally understand, you picked correctly)

❤️❤️❤️❤️

Valentines Day was a special day for you.

You loved, love. The idea of being in love, the idea of someone loving you. Every year it came around, you wished you had someone to spoil with love and flowers and notes. To feel the butterflies in your stomach.

Thankfully, love came in many different forms.

10 Years Old

"What's a Valentine?" You hear from across the room a girl ask your teacher. The class was working on Valentines Day cards during art. You quickly looked up from the card to see the teacher walk to the girl.

"Well, you can ask someone to be your Valentine, or someone could ask you," she says softly and leans down over the brown headed girls' desk. "You see a valentine can be anyone special to you. A friend, a love, anyone you admire."

The small girl nods thoughtfully and looks back towards you. With wide eyes, you blush and look back to the card you were working on, coloring in a crooked heart on the front.

"Who's your Valentine?" The boy sitting next to you asks, causing giggles from the classroom.

"My valentine," she thinks for a moment and looks around the room. "Well, all of you, of course!" The class laughs again, and you can't help the smile on your small face.

"And who is your Valentine, Pietro?" The teacher smirks at the boy next to you. He doesn't move or cower, but with confidence, he stands and looks at the table next to you.

"Mary, will you be my Valentine?" Pietro asks a tiny girl with glasses and blonde pigtails. Her face turns red as the class laughs.

You can hear them talking as you continue to work on your card, putting extra care into the portrait inside. To anyone else, it was a child's drawing, but to you, it was your best work. You finish coloring, and with your best handwriting, you sign the card, adding a few more hearts.

Pietro nudges your shoulder, causing you to close the card quickly.

"That was easy! Who is yours?" he smiles and tries to grab your card.

"Pietro, stop!" You groan as you push him away, the two of you laughing as you play. He finally gives up, and you hold the card to your chest.

"Fine, don't tell your best friend.." Pietro says and shakes his head, smiling.

At the end of every day, you meet the Maximoffs out front of school to walk home. Today, you were met with only Wandas smiling face.

"Where's Pietro?" You ask as the two of you begin to walk side by side.

"He's walking with Mary ," Wanda giggles and jumps over a large crack in the sidewalk. You think back to earlier when she asked the teacher what a valentine was, and you stopped walking.

She gives you a curious look as you take your backpack off and set it on the ground, opening it up.

"I um.. I have.. well, here," you manage to get out, handing the card you so carefully made to Wanda. She smiles as she takes it from you, staring at the heart on the front. When she opens it inside, she sees a drawing of the two of you, the words inside:

Thanks for being my best friend

Will you be my Valentine?

To: Wands

From: Y/N

The writing is messy and crooked, as you were a better artist than you were with words. By now, your backpack was back on, and Wanda looked to you with a wide grin.

"Of course I will!" She laughs excitedly and throws her arms around you in a quick hug. A weird feeling in your stomach happens as she does, but you ignore it and hug her back.

Wanda takes your hand and begins walking again, swinging your hands back and forth and holding the homemade card in her other hand.

"Y/N?" Wanda asks as the two of you reach her house.

"Yeah, Wands?" You smile at her and watch as she picks a red flower out of the bush in her front yard. She hands it to you with red cheeks.

"Since we're best friends, we should be Valentines every year." You take the flower and smile.

"Every year?" You ask her. Wanda nods quickly.

"Okay then, Valentine. Every year!" The two of you laugh and go your separate ways.

17 Years Old

You stand at your open locker, switching out books between classes when a person hits their back against the locker next to yours.

"What are your plans tomorrow?" He asks and raises an eyebrow, signature smirk on his lips. You think about the card in your backpack and shrug, looking to the blonde haired boy.

"I don't think I'm doing anything this year," you mumble. Pietro frowns and gives you a confused look.

"I thought you and Wanda always do something?" He asks, and you sigh, looking away.

"She'll probably do something with Jarvis. He is her boyfriend..."

"Oh whatever, the guys a loser," Pietro scoffs and looks at you with a knowing eyes.

"Did you ask anyone else?" He asks, again, knowing.

You shake your head. "Not this year."

You look up at him and follow his gaze down the hall. Wanda stood talking to Jarvis, seeming to have a heated discussion. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at the boy.

"Hey, I can be your Valentine. I mean, close enough to Wanda, right?" Pietro smiles at you, and you raise an eyebrow, cheeks heating.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you shrug and close the locker. He laughs.

"Oh, you're right. I have no clue that you're in love with my sister, my mistake," he puts his hands up in defense, another smirk on his face. "I'm not as dumb as you two think I am. Certainly not as dumb as her for not getting it...." Pietro puts a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Is it that obvious?" You groan and rest your head against his shoulder. He hugs you tightly.

"Painfully..." He chuckles.

So there you sat on Valentines Day in your bedroom, for the first year without a Valentine.

Every year you and Wanda would do something together, you would always make her a card. She would always get you flowers. Maybe you would watch a movie or take a walk to the 24/7 dinner that serves your favorite pancakes.

You had two partners before, both cut short due to the fact that your heart belonged to someone else. Wanda also had boyfriends and girlfriends before, but they never stayed together long enough to matter, and she never seemed to have one during Valentines.

You knew eventually it would happen.

Eventually your best friend, who you were deeply, fucked up ridiculously, in love with, would be with someone else. You hadn't told her how you felt, because you didn't want to ruin what you had... you weren't sure if she felt the same way and you couldn't risk the friendships of the two most important people in your life.

So you were trying to be okay with the fact that you were by yourself. You put on a stupid cheesy rom com on your laptop and pulled the blanket up on your chest. Trying not to think of Wanda.

A noise against the window disrupts your train of thoughts. You groan and turn up the movie, but the tapping sound happens again, and again.

Until finally, you hear a 'crack' and sit up quickly. You turn to your right to the window and see a small crack in your window, thankfully not splintering off into more cracks. When you walk over and look outside, you see Wanda down below with her hands on her mouth. You open the window and look down at her with a surprised expression.

"Wanda.. what are you doing here? And why are you breaking my window?" You whisper down to her.

"Oh my god, I-I'm so sorry! I was trying to throw rocks! You know? Like in those movies you love!" She's laughing nervously now, and you can't help but laugh with her. "Can I come up?" She asks, and you nod, waving your hand.

You quickly step back to check yourself in the mirror, running your fingers through your messy hair and groaning at the sight of your red looking eyes. You rub them a little as you hear Wanda climbing into the window.

"That tree gets harder to climb every year," she mumbles to herself and plants her feet on the floor, smiling at you. The two of you stand staring for a moment in silence.

"Hi..." Wanda whispers, coaxing you as she takes a step forward. You roll your eyes playfully and laugh.

"Hi..." You whisper back, looking to her hand behind her back.

"You um, you didn't make me card this year," her voice is soft, tone almost hurt sounding. You look around the room and shrug.

"I wasn't sure if I should." As you speak, she holds out a red rose, the same rose she gave you every year from the bush in front of her house. You take it with a smile, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as her fingers brush against yours.

"Well, it's okay, you're still my Valentine." Wanda speaks matter of factly and puts her hands in her jean pockets. You raise an eyebrow at her.

"But what about...?" You ask, hinting to her boyfriend. Wanda nods and hums.

"Well, we uh, broke up yesterday."

"Wanda.. why didn't you tell me?"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" She asks back, ignoring your question. You frown.

"Your name?" You raise an eyebrow, confused. Wanda moves to sit on the edge of your bed, resting her hands on her knees.

"You've called me Wands since we were 10 years old. The past couple of months, you haven't said it once..."

And there it was again, the hurtful tone of voice and sad green eyes. Had you really not? The couple of months she's been.. dating Jarvis. You've been trying to hold back, you hadn't even realized.

Instead of speaking, you turn your back and reach for your backpack by your desk, pulling out a homemade card. With red cheeks, you hand it to her, standing in front of her nervously.

Wanda smiles at the front, a detailed heart on the cover. Inside was an intricate penciled portrait of her, down to every detail. The smile lines on her cheeks, the few freckles, that could have formed a constellation, spread on her face. She half gasped half chuckled as her fingers traced the lines, along with the heartfelt words you wrote beside it. At the bottom signed:

Thanks for being my everything

Will you be my Valentine?

To: Wands

From: Y/N

"You know, for such an amazing artist, your handwriting still looks like it did in grade school," she jokes as she looks up at you. You finally break a smile at the comfort of her joking demeanor. You sit next to her on the bed and stare at the rose in your hand.

"I don't think it'll ever get better," you sigh with a chuckle, feeling her shoulder press against yours. There's a quiet moment before she speaks again.

"I couldn't see him being my Valentine," Wanda speaks quietly, turning to face you. You do the same, heart in your throat. "I couldn't see him being my anything, really..." She leans closer, you can smell the scent of her cinnamon gum and vanilla perfume as she does.

"Oh?" You swallow hard as her face is inches from yours. She nods slowly.

"There's really only one person I want... but I don't know if she feels the same," Wanda mumbles, eyes glancing from your lips back to your eyes.

"I'm sure anyone, especially her, would love to have you," you whisper, feeling her arm move around your waist.

"You think so?" A small smirk on her lips makes the butterflies in your stomach flap their wings.

"Definitely..." You nod, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek.

It's when Wanda leans in and closes the space between you, her soft lips moving against yours, that the butterflies inside of you soar.

21 Years Old

Wanda giggles as she pulls you inside her bedroom, shutting the door. She wastes no time pressing your back against it, her lips attaching to the curve of your neck.

"Happy Valentines Day, babygirl..." Wanda whispers against your skin. You smile and grip onto the back of her shirt tightly.

"Happy Valentines, Wands..." You rasp out as she sucks harshly on your pulse point. "Oh! Y-Your card," you moan as her hands find their way under your dress.

Wanda pulls back with a smile, "Y/N, do we really need to worry about the card right now?" You take in her puffy red lips and darkened eyes, the way her hair was already ruffled from when your fingers tangled through the strands. She looked like she wanted to devour you.

"I um guess we can probably worry about that later," you giggle and lean in.

"Thank god," She laughs as she meets you, kissing your lips with the same passion she always did. You can taste the alcohol on her tongue as she slides it into your mouth. Wanda lifts your dress up your thighs, her knee pressing between your legs.

"I'm so glad you wore this pretty dress to dinner," she groans into your mouth, grabbing your hips and pushing them down. You grind yourself onto her thigh, feeling yourself become wetter with every move of her leg.

"Just for you, baby," you moan and hold onto the sides of her neck, fingers brushing against her sharp jaw.

"That's right sweetheart move your hips- just like that, fuck you're so pretty..." Wanda purrs and lets her lips travel back to your neck. You feel the burn in your stomach become hotter, coiling up inside as your clit rubs against the rough fabric of her pants. You can't help the whimper escape your lips as your desperation builds.

"Wands, I need you to touch me please," you beg.

She doesn't waste another minute taking you to her bed, the two of you undressing each other as you stumble backward giggling. You loved that about Wanda, how comfortable she always made you feel in every moment. That even in the most intimate of moments, you could still laugh.

You lay your head down onto her pillow, the tantalizing smell of vanilla and Wanda invading your senses, as she crawls on top of you. She kisses every inch of skin she can, whispering sweet words as she does. Your hands grab onto any part of her that you can, nails scraping the skin of her back.

"Just like that baby?" Wanda smirks as two fingers slip inside of you, pumping in and out at an even pace. You moan at her words and nod, holding onto the back of her neck.

"Y-Yes just like that fuck!" She watches your chest become red, spreading up to your neck and cheeks. Wanda would never get tired of that fucking blush. It only drove her to move her fingers faster, curling them inside of you as she did. Her mouth collides against yours in another heated kiss, the two of you moaning into the other.

She feels you tighten around her fingers and whispers, "Cum for me babygirl. That's it, that's it baby.." coaxing the orgasm out of you.

Wanda gives you a moment to come down before removing her fingers. As she kisses your jaw, you let out a happy sigh.

"Let's try it out," you whisper, nodding your head in the direction of the new box on her end table. Wanda pulls back with a glint in her eye.

"Yeah?" She smiles widely, and you nod, watching her closely as she stood from the bed.

You don't think you would ever get over seeing your girlfriend, bare for your eyes only. She was beautiful, the most perfect woman alive. It doesn't take long for her to climb back on top of you, this time with a strap attached at her hips.

"It might be a little bit uncomfortable at first, but it'll feel so good," she assures as she presses the tip up and down your slick folds, your arousal wetting the plastic cock easily. "Just tell me if it's too much, okay?"

Wanda gives you a serious look, making your heart swell at the care she took in you. You nod, "I will Wands," you whisper and watch as she smiles.

She slides it in slowly, pausing to check on you as she stretches you out. The feeling was new and unexpected. Wanda peppers your face with soft kisses and praises you as you become adjusted.

"You're doing so good for baby..."

"Almost all of it, just a little bit more..."

"There you go, that's it, sweetheart..."

As she bottoms out inside of you, her hips meet yours, a moan leaves her lips at the feeling of the strap rubbing her deliciously. You reach your hands up to move the fallen strands of brown hair out of her face and your arms wrap around her sides. Wandas soft hands move to fold your legs around her waist, you feel her move deeper inside of you.

"You okay?" She asks carefully, looking down at you.

"I'm okay, it-it feels good," you rasp out as she begins to move a little faster.

"Just- fuck -just tell me if it's too much okay baby?" Wanda moans and the look on her face, the pleasure between her parted lips and furrowed brows would be enough to draw out another orgasm.

You lean up and kiss her again. It's a messy kiss as the two of you begin breathing heavier, Wanda finding a steady rhythm as she thrusts inside of you.

"Christ, Wands, it feels so good," you moan into her mouth.

Her arm slides underneath your shoulders, bodies pressing impossibly close as she rocks into you.

"I love you so much, so much," she breathes against your skin, her lips attaching to your neck.

Your fingers dig into her skin, one hand scratching up her back as you hold onto the back of her neck. "I love you - oh god! - so much baby," you stutter out as her pace quickens, another orgasm quickly approaching.

The way she held onto you, the kisses she left on your skin, the whispers of how beautiful you were, you had never felt more loved in your whole life. As Wanda kisses you again with a smile on her lips, you feel the love you held for her swell in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach going wild at the sounds of her moaning your name.

You look over at the alarm clock on Wandas' nightstand, seeing 3am. She has her arms wrapped around you, both of your legs tangled together as you turn back to face her.

"We stayed up all night," you giggle with red cheeks, looking at her peaceful demeanor. Your finger runs across her chest, marking a path from the marks you left on her skin.

"Totally, totally worth it," Wanda chuckles and scrunches her nose. You can't help but lean forward to kiss it. "You know what I could really go for right now?"

She smiles at the way your eyes light up excitedly.

"Pancakes?" You ask.

"Pancakes."

So there you were at almost 4 in the morning at the dinner you had shared many pancakes with Wanda over the years, sitting in the same booth, dressed in one of Wandas shirts and a pair of her sweatpants.

You slide her homemade card across the table.

"For you, my love," you smile brightly at her, watching eagerly as she reads the card and brushes her fingertips over the drawing inside.

"I think this might be your best handwriting yet," Wanda jokes with a smirk, acting shocked when you throw a napkin at her. "I love it so much." She holds it to her chest, meaning it.

"I um, I got you something a little different this year," she says quietly, her cheeks becoming a light shade of pink. You look curiously as she reaches for something in her pocket.

She sets a small velvet box on the table, and your eyes go wide at the sight of it. "Wanda..." You whisper, her eyes going wide too.

"It's not exactly what you think! Its.." She puts her head down and laughs to herself, amazed she still had nerves when talking to you after all these years. "Here," she says and hands it to you.

You open the box to find a gold ring. The band was made of little gold metal leaves and thorns, at the top sat a red gem.

"It's a rose that will last forever," she says as you stare at the ring. "There will be more flowers, and there will be another ring, in the future." She makes clear and reaches out to take your hand, sliding the ring onto your finger. "For my little Valentine, a rose for every day."

Tears well in your eyes at the sentiment, at the way she softly held onto your hand and looked at you with a gentle smile. Her green eyes shimmer in the dim lighting of the old diner, the blue lights that lit up the sign outside highlight the angles of her face.

Looking at the smile on Wandas lips and the blush on her cheeks is enough for the swarm of butterflies to take flight inside you, beating their delicate wings against the walls of your stomach.

25 Years Old

"Please go check on her for me? It'll make me feel better if I know she's okay," Wanda says to her twin, fixing the bowtie that lay crooked on his shirt.

"Sestra, you have nothing to worry about. Y/N is in the other room right now, totally fine," Pietro says with a comforting smile. He leans in to kiss Wandas cheek, stopping at the door before he walks out to give her another look. "You really do look beautiful..." He says softly.

Wanda smiles as she looks in the mirror then to him, her skin reddening under the white lace.

"Thank you, Pietro..." She whispers. He nods, leaving the small room to walk down the hall to yours.

"Alright, Y/N, you ready to -" Pietro stops as he shuts the door behind him. He watches as you look over to him with a sad smile, a few tears falling down your face. You quickly wipe them away.

"Hey, sorry is it time?" You ask with a small sniffle. Pietro raises an eyebrow.

"You aren't walking out on my sister, are you? Cause that will be really awkward for both of us."

You can't help but chuckle at his joke, feeling relief when he steps closer and pulls you into a comforting hug. He gives you a moment to cry on the shoulder of his tux, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

As he looks around the empty room, he realizes the reason for your tears.

"They aren't coming, are they?" Pietro sighs and hugs you tighter as you shake your head no.

"Well, no worries... I happen to be great at walking girls down the aisle." He pulls back, signature smirk on his face.

You wipe your eyes as you look at him, "Really?"

"Y/N, we've been best friends forever, I already think of you as my sister..." He chuckles and hands you a tissue.

As you wipe your tears, you look up to the man, seeing the little boy who grew up beside you all those years ago. The one who teased you about everything, playful fights in the halls. The one who was always the shoulder to cry on. The one who always made you laugh when you needed to smile.

"Thank you, Pietro. For everything." You sigh and hug him again, thanking God for the Maximoff twins.

"Now... I told Wanda you were doing totally fine in here, so we're going to keep that lie going."

You finally smile, and when it reaches your eyes, Pietro grins, holding his arm out to you.

Wanda smiles as her father kisses her forehead, dropping her off at the altar. Although, it fades as she looks beside her parents to see a missing spot. Her eyebrows furrow as she looks for her twin, worry getting the best of her as her eyes search for him.

But when she looks down the aisle and sees the woman who held her heart, arm in arm with the man who was her other half, she can't help the tears that stream down her cheeks or the smile that takes over her face.

"When we were 10 years old, you handed me a card and asked me to be your Valentine," Wanda says and takes your hand in hers, squeezing tightly. "I told you since we were best friends we should just be each others Valentines every year."

Guests around the room chuckle from their seats, a blush forms on your face at the memory and the way her green eyes hold so much love for you as she stares into your own. The world around you blurs, and time seems to stop as the words leave Wandas mouth. In that moment, it truly was just the two of you.

"So I'm saying now, that I want to be your Valentine forever."

The two of you exchange rings, and Wanda slides another band next to the rose ring you already wore.

On this Valentines Day, you say "I Do," and listen to the same two words slip her tongue.

And when instructed to kiss the bride, she wraps her arms around your lower back and pulls you to her, kissing you as if she wanted to convey a lifetime of affection in that one moment. With each kiss, Wanda could feel your love pouring into her a warmth spreading through her body like sunlight on her favorite summer day.

Amongst the cheers and applause of both of your loved ones, you felt the same feeling you always did inside of you when you were with Wanda, a kaleidoscope of butterflies in a storm.

32 Years Old

"Ohh sweetheart, just like that fuck!" Wanda half whispers half moans, her fingers tangling in your hair as you continue to let your mouth devour her. Your hands hold onto her thighs, keeping them spread as you lick upwards and suck on her clit.

A soft sigh escapes her lips, her back arching in response to the sensation. A gentle blush spreads across her cheeks as she looks down to see your eyes were already on her, watching her reaction. You hum against her, the vibrations causing her to surrender to the pleasure.

"Baby I'm gonna cum! Don't stop, please - oh god," she says and feels your hand reach up to cover her mouth.

With each breath, she feels a wave of bliss wash over her, a symphony of pleasure leaving her lips. You moan against her, your tongue lapping up everything she'll give you.

Wanda lets out an exasperated laugh as you finish, covering her face with her hands. You smile up at her, lips wet with her arousal as you chuckle at the sight of her.

"I told you I wanted breakfast in bed this morning," you grin, and she laughs even harder, catching her breath. You grab her hand and kiss the finger that wore her wedding ring.

"Happy Anniversary, Wands..." You say with a cheeky smile. The blush stays on her face as she leans up to kiss you, tasting herself.

"Happy Anniversary, my little Valentine," she smiles into the kiss and wraps her arms around your neck.

"About that..." You say with a joking wince, looking at the confused expression on her face.

"So you aren't going to ask me to be your Valentine this year?" Wanda pouts and gives you her best sad eyes. You kiss her nose.

"Unfortunately, you're going to have to share," you say, and at the realization, Wanda nods. Her heart flutters in her chest as she looks at you with a soft smile.

"I suppose we will have to share, won't we?" Wanda giggles, and you can't help but laugh as you hear small knocking on the door to your bedroom.

The two of you quickly help clean each other up in a fit of giggles and kisses, and as you walk to the door, you both hear the voices of tiny whispering from behind the wood.

"What color is yours?"

"Mom likes red so I did that,"

"But I did red too!"

"It's fine yours is different!"

You open the door to reveal the other set of twins that held your heart, a smile on your face as you see the pair holding a piece of paper each.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" You ask and watch as Tommy runs in the room, jumping on the bed into Wandas arms. Billy just smiles up at you, and you chuckle with a small shake of your head as you lift him up.

"We made you Valentimes Day cards!" He beams at you, his eyes sparkling with pride. Your eyes meet Wandas at his adorable pronunciation of the word, a small silent laugh shared between you as you carry him to the bed.

As the four of you sit in the bed, boasting over your boys handmade cards decorated with crayon hearts and crooked letters of messages with love, you feel the purest form of love.

You look from the twins to your wife, feeling her squeeze your hand as her eyes set on yours. A surge of gratitude and love wash over you.

You think back to all of the Valentines leading up to this one, wondering how you could've gotten so lucky. You felt lucky to be surrounded by so much love, to know what it felt like to be loved.

Wanda leans over and kisses your cheek, seeing the overwhelming happiness in your eyes.

"Our two little Valentines," she says with a chuckle, kissing the top of the boys head.

#fic rec #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #smut

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maximoffwitch · 2 months

Text

STOP I AM SO OBSESSED WITH THIS. BRB SCREAMING 🥹🥹 the ending is so perfect and ugh this is just so cute

calamitous love and insurmountable grief

johanna mason x reader

summary: On a hard grieving day for you, you recall an old holiday celebrated centuries before Panem.

a/n: valentine’s day oneshot!!! happy valentine’s day! inspired by a round of frantic fanfic me and my friends did (ty ruby) and the title is a lyric from the lakes by taylor swift bc i barely slept and don’t want to think of anything better. implied fem reader

cw: cringe 😓

words: 1.9k

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Your head lies limply on Johanna’s lap, your face expressionless as you stare deeply into nothing in particular. It was just one of those days for you. One day you’d wake up and be completely fine, skipping down the tile to the shops that make up the streets of District 7. The next, the memories would come surging back twice as strong and ferociously crippling as the last. The images of the dead stained under your eyelids; family, friends, even the soldiers you’d hardly taken the time to know during your fight against the Capitol. Some lost to your own hands, but most to Snow. It seemed impossible to think that he couldn’t reach you here, trying your hardest to forget about the Hunger Games and the war and the people you’ve lost. You’ve been trying to enjoy the little things again in this past month, taking a train out to District 7 with your girlfriend after Snow was assassinated, if you could call it that, really. Swarmed by the mob after Katniss’ arrow found Coin’s heart instead.

It happens to Johanna, too, so she gets it. She simply rests one hand in between the strands of your hair, her fingers brushing through the pieces as she fights with her own memories. She never knows quite what to say with these things, how to help. Often she opts for silence. She hasn’t cared for someone like this in so long. But Johanna has come to learn that her touch helps you more than words ever could. The feeling of her hands stroking your hair calms you, sedates that awful feeling that always seems to rise up into your throat like bile. It hasn’t taken long for her to learn how to calm your fears with just one simple touch, even if it’s something that goes unspoken between the two of you. Like a covert oath held together by the most lenient of hands, gentle fingers that have a tendency to care. Johanna’s touch is the type that draws all of the emotion out of you, like a magnet to its opposite end. Her hands absorb your fear and lead your mind to simpler things. A lantern in the dark, the only star in a polluted sky. Your mind wanders as you try to remember what you wanted to say to her.

“Did you know that before Panem, there was this holiday? About love. And you’d buy stuff for them. Like, your lover. It was called Valentine’s Day. Reading about it always made me wish I was alive back then.” you say, your brain reeling back to all those history books you’ve been reading to pass the time. You can almost feel Johanna’s eyebrow raise above you.

“Who wouldn’t? Worrying about stupid shit like that instead of getting reaped for a death match,” Johanna sneers, although the ferocity in her words isn’t directed at you. It never is. She’s always seemed to have a soft spot for you in that way.

“Yeah… it would have been today, you know. February 14th.” you say hesitantly, and your mind wanders back to those pages. The stores with the synthetic white lights overhead that illuminate the rows of heart-shaped boxes filled with chocolate delicacies. You’ve only ever had chocolate in the Captiol because of just how expensive it is. You’ve never been able to wrap your head around the idea of it being sold for so cheap, so common that it was purchased by millions to offer to their lovers. How simple their world seems to you. So different from the Panem you know. The Panem that condones violence, prejudice, the slaughter of children. But that Panem is one of the past now, too. Maybe humankind could return to such a silly holiday that revolves around love and stupid things like chocolate and flowers. Maybe Panem could finally heal after all the damage that was dealt.

Suddenly, you shoot up from Johanna’s lap, an idea forming in your head. Johanna just stares at you expectantly as you attempt to sort your thoughts into comprehendable words. Usually, it’s to no avail, but you need these words to reach Johanna’s ears right now or you’re going to explode.

“We should celebrate! We can both go out into town and get a gift for each other. It doesn’t have to be traditional, or anything too fancy. But I want to get you something. We can just pretend we really did live back then, before Panem. Before any of this.” you say, pushing the words out excitedly at the thought of celebrating anything at all, really. The aftermath of the war has been heavy and overbearing. There hasn’t been much room for fun or excitement or any of the childish feelings receiving a gift entails. This prospect is what has your eyes looking expectantly up at Johanna, on the edge of your seat for a response from her.

“Sounds stupid, but fine. Only because you look like you’re about to throw up.” Johanna decides, rolling her eyes, but you can see the small smile on her lips when she stands up. The excitement fizzes in your stomach as soon as the words leave her mouth. Something to look forward to! Not only that, but you get to give a gift to Johanna in return. This was the best thing that’s happened to you probably since you saw the life leave Snow’s eyes. Your life was filled too much with remorse and grief for your liking; even this small celebration was sure to bring some light back to your world.

Johanna is someone special. The only person left on this earth you’re sure you love. She’s not just anyone to bestow a gift upon, she’s Johanna Mason, for fuck’s sake, so you have to make sure you buy something meaningful. Something that she’s sure to cherish until her dying days. You sling some coins in your pocket and head out the door, heading in the opposite direction as Johanna into town so that you don’t run into each other while buying the gifts. Although, you’re both pretty famous around here so you doubt the shopkeepers will actually charge you for anything. The entirety of the country knew you as survivors of the Hunger Games, so most typically go pretty easy on you and Johanna. Even if their pity makes Johanna want to tear their limbs off one by one.

Your excitement shows by the way your feet bound you out onto the streets, taking quick glances at all of the shops open in the middle of the week. But as you bounce down the tile, you suddenly slow and realize you have no idea what a meaningful gift for Johanna would actually be. Being so soon after the war, chocolate was out of the question. Flowers were too simple; hell, if Johanna wanted flowers, she could have picked some in your yard herself. You think of getting something to aid her hobbies, but she doesn’t have many hobbies really except for cutting wood with an axe, and she’s already got plenty of those.

You begin to feel a bit defeated now as you wander around town, your bag of coins still clutched unused in the palm of your hand. You haven’t known Johanna for too long, but you thought you at least knew her better than this. You almost turn around until your eyes catch on the blacksmith shop.

On the front of the stand hangs an axe that must be completely forged out of metal, the sleek black and silver parts illuminated by the sunlight. It’d be impossible for it not to catch your eye walking down the path, the way that it shines in the very front of the stall. It must be a premium, because you’ve never seen an axe with a steel handle like that before. It’s heavy, sure, but Johanna’s managed to rebuild a lot of the muscle she lost when captured by spending so much time hacking away at firewood. Now that you think about it, the axes she uses must be older than she is because when she comes back home, you always have to fish splinters out of her fingers with your tweezers. As soon as that shiny, new titanium reaches your eyes, your coins are practically already in the blacksmith’s pockets.

No matter how much of your trauma was broadcasted on national television, a weapon like that is going to cost you a fortune. But the blacksmith recognizes you and offers to put something on the handle for free. You watch intently as he carves you and Johanna’s initials onto the handle with a small, neat heart on the end. Just the sight of it makes your lips raise in a smile with pride.

On your way back to Victor’s Village, you pick up a small box for the axe and buy some red ribbon to wrap around it, just for added effect. When you arrive home, Johanna’s already waiting outside for you, a larger, flatter box slung under her arm. She looks a bit bored, but her green eyes catch on you as you approach.

“Sorry. Took me forever.” you mutter through your grin as you walk up to her, already placing your box in her hands. Johanna smiles similarly, her lips a small smirk as the sunlight catches in her eyes. You can see the small flecks of brown in her eyes, a brighter green in the light than typical. Her hair has grown back curlier than before, the wavy strands ending just below her ears. You miss the red streaks in her hair. You wonder if she will dye them again once hair dye begins to be produced and sold again.

When Johanna takes the box from your hands, it’s almost like she can recognize the weight of an axe instantly. Growing up in District 7 will do that. “Nothing light, huh?” she grins, her eyebrows raising a bit knowingly as she tostles the box around a bit, hearing the metal slosh against the cardboard of the box. You can’t help but think she looks beautiful like that, with the sun dappled over her skin. You watch her almost distractedly until she hands you the box she had kept under her arm.

“Here, before I open mine.” Johanna says, her smirk widening just a bit as she looks at you intently. You smile back up at her as you take the box from her hands. It’s quite flat and almost weightless. You nearly drop it from expecting something heavier. You look up at her in question, and she just tells you to open it again. You roll your eyes, but the smile doesn’t leave your face as you gently take the top off of the box.

Your brows furrow in confusion as you slowly take your hand to touch the fabric in the box. It’s a piece of clothing. You gently unfold it, letting the box fall to the floor. It’s a dress, originally white, but cream around the edges with age. But it’s clear it’s well cared for, not a single stitch missing or a piece of lace misplaced. It’s beautiful. You nearly gape your mouth in shock as you run your fingers along the white satin, the pattern forming small flowers, and it feels silky smooth beneath your touch. Your eyes raise back to Johanna, the emotion clear in your gaze as she looks back at you with pride in her small smirk.

“I looked into one of your history books. White for weddings, right?”

#fic rec #johanna mason #johanna mason x reader

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