Tumgik
#bottom scarlet witch
lizziecanrailme · 1 year
Text
Poor little witch
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader
Summary: I don’t even know
Warning: Bottom!wanda/scarlet witch | this is a warning because submissive Wanda is hot and may in danger lives | strap-on sex | rough | degradation? |
A/N: This is my first smut, bear with me🧍🏾‍♀️
Tumblr media Tumblr media
—✦—
The Scarlet Witch
A being of oh, so much power. One of the most powerful magic users in the universe. She can kill 100 men with just the snap of her fingers.
Yet here she is, moaning and withering under you.
She panted as you pounded into her at a fast past. Her pussy was so wet and puffy as it took you in. She gripped onto your arms hard, nails digging into your skin.
You groaned at the pain but that made you even more eager. You sped up your movements, leading a squeal to come out of her mouth. She tried to say something but it only came out as moans. You smirked at this, loving to see her being fucked dumb.
“You want something darling? You have to use your words.”
She whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut. “Please” she croaked out, blissed by the pleasure. You took your hand away from her side and grabbed her face. Her cheeks squished together and her eyes opened.
“Please what?” you asked teasingly, your lips only inches from hers. You knew she’d have trouble answering but you didn’t stop moving. “S—slow down, p-please” she stuttered between moans. You pouted at her mockingly.
“Aw, the big bad scarlet witch can’t even handle a little roughness?”
Those words made her feel small and helpless. A particularly hard thrust making her moan loudly. She moved her hands to grab your shoulders.
“Poor little witch.”
You slithered your hand to the back of her neck. Bringing her into a rough kiss, her moans vibrated in your mouth. She felt herself coming close, the pleasure being too much for her. You noticed this and smirked, “Go on, come for me.”
—✦—
A/N: I cringed while making this
938 notes · View notes
wmarximoff · 2 years
Text
in secret | w. maximoff
Tumblr media
summary: after spending all of her youth trapped in HYDRA's labs, Wanda Maximoff had no contact with outsiders, and therefore never knew the nuances of human pleasures. but when a young amateur photographer travels to Sokovia, in secret, Wanda discovers more about herself than she ever has done before.
warnings (18+): mentions of tragedy, sexual discovery, masturbation, mentions of sex, voyeurism.
pairing: Wanda x fem!reader
word count: 2k
A/N: guess who finally saw In Secret? lol
this is basically Wanda's journey of discovery about her sexuality and maybe her body as a whole. it's more of a character study than anything else, really.
|masterlist|
༺ᱬ༻
Wanda Maximoff couldn't have pinpointed with unerring clarity the first time that dazzling spark flickered in her fiery center when facing another female figure. When she had started to feel that peculiar way around someone like her – when her gaze had started to take too much of its time just scrutinizing the contours of rosy lips and gentle chins, lingering on the newly conceived idea of the fact that she wanted to touch – she needed to feel – something that she also had.
At some point, as in a summer breeze that comes in the form of an announcement of warm and restrained days, like a verging innocent desire to know something new, the curves of pelvic girdles became more attractive than the prominent muscles and roughness of stubble beard trails, when the softness and the fragility were enough to make her want more of that new idea. For Wanda, there was nothing of an assorted nature that would be able to attract her like that feeling did.
It certainly wasn't, however, during the early years of her pre-adolescence, all carried away in poverty worthy of the structures of a country devastated by war, that she realized this outlandish distinction flourishing within herself. A need. A crave, perhaps. Not like other girls, but for other girls.
At the time, the unfaithful hunger had allowed her senses to arise in no other way than to beg for something other than food to digest within the walls of her stomach; there was no room there to consume the dying butterflies of love, for the hunger was cavernous even when her mother barely tried to keep it from being so – her father worked to keep everyone pleased and healthy, it’s true.
But, at that time, there was a girl a little older than Wanda who lived in the apartment next door, next to that scrawny, tiny room in which she lived huddled together with her parents and her older twin brother – a room that wasn’t quite enough to shelter within itself, in four scraggy walls that barely prevented the frosty draft from outside, the size of a family of four. But they had a small television, a handful of old American sitcoms to watch, and a teenage daughter trying to make sense of the unintelligible.
The Maximoffs made it happen because they had no choice but to share the same bed to stay warm through the cold, algid Sokovian nights. When Wanda had to hug her own hands and only hope she didn’t die of hypothermia overnight.
The neighbor at the time was a rather appealing young woman, tall, typical of Slavic Europe, about nineteen years old, who had been babysitting her and Pietro some seasons before in the summer sun. She was a stunning image that captured the senses of a young Wanda at the height of her fifteen years of age, when things began to blossom like a rosebud and the notion of a child's world was slowly fading away from her cognition, every day a little beyond an ingenuous notion.
When she started fancying to have her own room and own bedsheets like the American kids did in these old shows from the last century – the pinnacle of the American Way of Life, a blatant lie for impressionable eyes –, realizing the unfair limitations of poverty and the true meaning of it in one's life, having lonely teenage nights to discover what hadn't been discovered yet.
There was a need effervescent in Wanda’s spirit, as if her lungs were crying out for oxygen to breathe. It was as if she was shedding her own skin without realizing that she was doing it; until it was too late to turn back. Wanda found the girl buried in the ruins of the popular residence after the second bomb fell on the building's terrace.
Only a pale, unresponsive forearm could be seen dragging itself out of the concrete and splinters, but Wanda recognized the silver bracelet buttoned to the length of her skinny wrist that had sporadically caught her attention when that pretty girl passed her in the hallways, always to offer her a fond, complacent smile that made Wanda's little heart, still so foreign to amorous feelings, flutter strangely when her cheeks heated up like an ignition in a fireplace, burning greedily inside her nerves.
On the lonely teenage nights she liked to daydream about, Wanda began to think about what it would be like to sleep next to the warm body of her striking neighbor; how the silhouette of her sinuous body would look under the covers when it was lit only by the silver moon, and how unsettling her sweet, honeyed scent would be when she bent over her straining guts. It made the hollow half withing her thighs quiver beneath her nightclothes every time.
Maybe she wouldn't snore as much as Pietro did, always so loud and so unkempt, or kick her shins under the thin blankets in her sleep. Her skin would be soft and delicate against the hollow of her calves, like a second mantle, silky and subtle to the touch. Wanda would certainly like to know what her sleepy sighs would sound like tenderly in her ear.
She was armed with the best of intentions when she took the bracelet for herself from that frozen dead arm (unlike the image her unconscious had become accustomed to idealizing in dream lines when flanked by the coming sleep, of that warm forearm encircling her waist and bringing her closer and closer) because she liked that girl enough to keep her memory close even after she passed away.
But crying for her parents, she didn't remember shedding any tears for the girl. She was then made an orphan, after all. She was a lonely girl, absolutely helpless.
Wanda lived to grow beyond the age when her neighbor was faced with the abrupt end of her life robbed by a war she hadn't started, and in which she would never be the one to end it. Even in an orphanage, crammed into a single room in the company of dozens of other little orphans, that girl in the next door still made her think and turn in the uncomfortable sheets overnight.
But she was barely twenty years old when she and Pietro (the orphaned twins then imbued with unusual gifts, Mind Stone energy pulsing in fiery golden color within their blood cells) fled the clutches of the HYDRA organization once and for all, after a few years of a poorly misguided volunteering that only resulted in abilities beyond what a normal human would have, the two of them headed into a world they would no longer see in the same way as they did before.
It didn't take long for Wanda to realize that she didn't truly understand the ranges of her new capabilities and how they shaped and transmuted her as a being, just as she didn't understand that ecstatic feeling that took shape, grew and expanded inside her like a crimson mist. The sun of her childhood had set, and it was time for something new to emerge from her insides.
She wanted to be in Pietro's shoes when he narrated to her, always so pompously, about the secret nocturnal encounters he'd been having with some girl and some other boy in the villages they frequented as they traveled across Sokovia with only each other’s company – the long journey only tarnished with a winding trail of experiences through the still shaken country, Wanda curious, dreamy and experimenting at that point among a collection of shabby maps, disjointed guides and fantasies late at night – every night – as soon as she realized that Pietro was falling asleep.
Wanda couldn't care less about the young man's summaries of what boys were like exposed in the minimal, voluptuous light of a dark room, indeed.
Just how they could be rather filthy when stripped of clothing and guided only by the will of their desires. But something in her craved to know more and more about how a girl reacted to being touched in a way that she had never been touched, nor had she ever touched anyone else before. How would it feel at her fingertips.
So she touched herself in the dead of night, in one of those where Pietro ventured out of their rented room, just rehearsing the idea empirically in her actions.
Idealizing the subtlety of a girl’s gentle touch even though her own probing fingers were amateurish and naively sloppy against the middle of the old sensibility that used to throb between her partially spread legs, so elusive against her panting skin.
There was something wet and pulsing that she brushed lightly with her fingertips, still testing, still knowing, but it caused an awakening of chaos inside her that she didn't want to let go of at that moment.
It felt good, as good as something that shouldn't be that good. If she was a person devout in faith, she figured, maybe it was a sin, because sins seemed to be good to taste. But there was nothing to stop her from moving forward, and everything in her screamed for her to keep going until that knot formed below her belly button came undone.
And then, in a rush of scarlet pleasure that sailed hard through her ruffled veins (her brow furrowed as if in pain, her heart racing like a marathon runner, her wrist aching in that newfound position of the tendons in her joint), with her mouth agape, Wanda understood. She truly did.
It was a sweet secret she had kept to herself. Something she secreted to the four walls of a dark room again, again and again. Everything about it, about the cravings of girls, always seemed to be something to be kept in secret – a secret that no soul seemed to dare to reveal.
A few weeks passed then since a new discovery, you showed up in her life. A photographer from another country, someone at the inn where the two of you temporarily settled down clarified the doubts that were circling Wanda's mind when her mouth opened to ask about you, a foreigner who just didn't seem to be from there – because you really weren't.
You were there to capture on screen the feeling of witnessing the pleasing Sokovian spring landscape, to present the result of a project and get your college degree.
Being a college student, then, you were a couple of years older than she was, but you were a new figure for her to discover and you were just as intriguing in Wanda's eyes as a foreigner could be. You, the idea of what you would be – what you could be –, aroused something exciting inside Wanda.
And she devoted her hidden attention to you like a believer who follows a god, always biting her own lips in a veiled excitement for the times in which you looked so intently with your camera and took a picture of some situation unfolding in your lens, preserved for posteriority in the light of your attentive gaze.
Wanda wanted you to look at her in that same intense way; that you studied her behind a camera and immortalize her in your memory.
She was like a red specter behind you on a particularly warm afternoon, heading into the scrawny beech trees of vegetation that skimmed the edges of that tiny village situated somewhere in the heart of Sokovia.
Like an animal looking for its prey, Wanda followed you along the lines of a shy little bunny, only being guided by the long pauses made by your sloppy feet, all directed to photograph the vibrant landscape or peaceful nature, some humming bird exotic in a funny pose.
Curly trees and elemental rusticities encompassed the natural landscape around you, a mist filled with the slow two-dimensional heat of morning hovering over your slow path, trickling through the tall row of trees clustered before the edge of a silvery-surfaced river like a long mirror.
You had taken a shortcut through the forest overflowing with so many emblems of nature and crossed the river before the dew, and at one point, amidst the vegetation, Wanda got on her knees (her fingers crunching fresh grass between the extensions of silver rings, she on all fours like a child still in the beginnings of that primordial phase of crawling, still not being able to walk properly) behind a tall pasture that served as a direct audience for you, as oblivious as you were just around the corner across the river, so far from the one who wanted you, yet so close that her gaze burned at your silhouette in front of a golden pool of sun.
From somewhere deep within that dark vortex, Wanda felt a new awakening of desire; so monstrous was her appetite for such a distinguish figure that, just a few feet away from her hiding place in the tall vegetation, you only raised your camera before your eyes and then snapped a well-articulated photograph.
Sweat ran in hot drops on the milky pale skin of Wanda’s neck, feeling so suffocated even under the damp shade of tall trees, and a hissing sound broke in the hollow of her parched, parted peach lips as she shifted position on the grass, the hem of the scanty maroon dress clad in the hollow of her crotch skimmed lightly against that secret place of hers reserved for lonely nights only.
“S-shit…” she moaned, half shivering, snatching her lower lip hard between a row of upper incisors.
And Wanda wasn't even at all surprised when she realized that, there, that nerve was throbbing, begging to be brushed again against the thin material of her secondhand dress. She spread her legs a little wider, fitting her pelvis better against the grass, the pale skin of her knees, then scattered here or there with small leaves and twigs, brushing against the grass mat down her inner thighs.
Charm and vulgarity clenched at Wanda's core when it was that she daringly rolled her hips forward one more time, in test form then intentional, only to feel the bun of fabric press against her panties beneath the dark layer of the dress. And it was good.
Then she rolled her hips again. And again. And stronger. And more exasperated. And more excited. And she rode out in search of what she already knew, secretly honoring you, that unknown photographer whose name she didn't even know.
Then Wanda lifted her clouded gaze, tilting her chin at a broken angle, the emerald green veiled by a shroud of sullen need that melted into the anticipation she'd compelled herself to feel, only to find you, right next to her in that bank of the river parallel to the one she was on, fiddling with the camera dangling from your neck, so absorbed in your ecstatic actions.
A nervous lump of hidden arousal formed inside Wanda's larynx – something pressed inside her as the notion descended upon her that you, far away, so beautiful and so immaculate, were just ignorant of her there, brushing nervously with the hollow of her inner thighs against the fabric of her own dress and the dewy grass on the ground like an animal in heat.
There was something bestial about the raw brutality that aroused her; Wanda discovered it there, snarling against her clenched teeth, watching you from afar, the knot about to burst.
“Fuc– fuck–! Fuck!” she grunted as that lump untied, her eyelids partially threatening to close against her eyes that would never dare leave your vision.
As Wanda rode, prolonging that vibrating red burst between her legs as long as possible, she never stopped holding her neck to watch you there, practically salivating, wanting it to be you there beneath her — she could rub herself against your hand, maybe your thigh, or even all over your pretty face.
And something in her shuddered, as you raised your camera in front of her face, even if so far away, and pointed the lens right at the place where she was hidden within the tall grass.
Later, the incitement of an impending night crept in, which dawned behind the avenue, between the tops of comfortable trees and along the green hill where the sun set behind the mounts, in the bliss of a due leisure, to which the moonlight of summer alluded to the amenities surrounding that small Sokovian village.
The candid air was clear, dewy, and humid to the lungs, yet a bit chilly in its European essence. The windows around the inn had all been closed. Wanda was lying on one bed and Pietro on another.
“So,” began the older twin, getting better under his covers, “What did you do this morning when you disappeared? I looked for you everywhere, you know? I was worried.”
And a small smile allowed itself to mischievously slip into Wanda's rosy lips.
“I can’t tell you,” she whispered to her brother, like a child who holds an enigma, “It's a secret.”
1K notes · View notes
marximoff · 2 years
Text
déjà vu | w. maximoff
Tumblr media
summary: as you slowly reconnect with Wanda, you feel a familiar feeling of déjà vu.
warnings: heavy make out, smut, strap-on sex (Wanda receiving) mentions of smoking, mentions of drinking, canon typical violence, angst.
pairing: Wanda x fem!reader
word count: 10k
A/N: this chapter sure was long awaited (i know it was you horny gays) but before the hot sapphic sex everyone wanted (emo wanda my beloved), this chapter deals with a character study of both r and wanda, to understand a little more about who they are rn as people
((by the way, I'll be taglisting the chapters from now on, so if you want to participate, just say something in the comments
enjoy!
|series masterlist|
|part one| |part two| |part four| |part five| |part six|
《《《《《《《ᱬ》》》》》》》
A carton of almond milk, a jar of peanut butter, a dozen eggs, a stick of butter, a can of peas, a bag of soft multigrain bread and a sizable bottle of wine are the components of the plastic basket that Wanda carries slung over her right arm.
She doesn't know that she forgot to get a can of corn too.
But the basket is kind of weighty and she might as well use her magic to levitate the items around her own silhouette, but she prefers that way, holding them down herself with her own arm strength.
Sometimes it's good to keep the sense of normality active. Even if normality just means carrying a basket full of groceries around the supermarket.
She then looks at the face of the brown watch buttoned at the base of her left wrist and checks the time, blinking her greenish eyes after squeezing a long, full yawn in the back of her throat.
A gray-haired old lady (Mrs. Sharon Davis, an elderly widow, all wrapped in her pale blue cardigan) in front of her appears to be in a conflict with herself to find some of the change interred in the lowest of her silver wallet.
And Wanda scrutinizes the establishment around herself, between the shelves stocked with groceries and the glossy linoleum floor; the weary gaze wavering absorbedly over her own white-fabric sneakers and contingently fixing on a dark, even smear on the floor between them.
 Old Mrs. Davis still hasn't spotted her desired coins, and she's been digging into her wallet for the silver pennies for a good few minutes now.
Wanda listens over her shoulder as someone pulls into a shopping cart right behind herself and lets out an audible groan, evidentially annoyed at the delay of the old lady with her change, but Wanda doesn't see the point in bothering to torment herself.
It's not yet six o'clock and she'll be peaceably walking home, for Westview is a small, undisturbed, reticent suburban town where everything is so close and easy to find. And she knows that, with her house being just a few blocks away from the locality of the modest market, she won't be long in coming to prepare dinner for her and her boys (whom she has left securely at the house, both doing their math homework).
She smiles tenderly to herself when she thinks about Billy and Tommy.
After all, she knows she's never loved anyone as passionately as she loves those two little boys (the grace of her life, the reason for her morning smile and for the blaze of keenness pulsing within the fond fortifications of her warmish heart).
For her they are everything, and that is why she would do anything for them – they are the epithet of the purest form of love that Y/N had ever gifted her with; the culmination of their love converted into two vulnerable little creatures that are made up of the best of the two of them.
She just knows, like a good mother who understands both her children so well, that at that moment, the twin boys are probably watching some silly cartoon on the television set beside the broad fireplace found in the corner of the commodious living room.
And she is placid in a supermarket line, getting a whiff of the eccentric consequence of the odd combination of the full-bodied aromas of cleaning product and some sturdy feminine perfume – an even slightly nauseating aroma, kind of overpowering and suffocating.
(In some aisle away from her, a child is heatedly asking his mother to buy him some treats)
Wanda then ponders about making something a little special for dinner, and recalls about the delicious kugel recipethat her mother used to prepare in the length of her childhood days, back in devastated Sokovia, so many years in the remote past that encompasses the beginning of the disasters that marked her life.
The memory that gushes over her is sentimental and bittersweetly recurring to her core; she deliberates about the sporadic months of starveling and a small humble family of four, when her father was lucky with his sales and there was a sufficient amount of money left to buy the soldiers' leftover ingredients.
But then, she retrieves back to the years of her late youth, all lived in the restful caresses of the compound in upper Manhattan. She was still understanding about how to breathe without having Pietro to hold her hand. She was learning to live on her own.
She was coming to terms with the truth that living didn't inevitably have to be a bad experience at all; not when Y/N showed her that there could still be delight in the little things in life.
And it was Y/N who used to marvelously praise the dish when Wanda found comfort in the act of cooking, and she always repeat a few slices every time Wanda cooked it so long ago, when they were just two teenage lovers (and eventually also young wives, both living in a small bubble of love and companionship on the edge of a comfortable wooden cottage surrounded by dozen of yards of apple orchards).
There was the sweet virtuousness of the warmth of two young girls' lives at that time. It was the first time that Wanda was really fond of being young (of breathing and having a beating heart, of having a life to live valuing every little detail of it).
She memorizes the exultant smile of her ex-wife, looking so light and beautiful even while talking with her mouth full (a half-crocken smirk drawn to her left-side, like the smirk also articulated in the innocuous characteristics of her little Tommy after he was born, which reminds her so much of the radiance that used to gleam in the sweet features of her former companion).
Her ex-wife wasn't always a lonesome and distant creature creeping in the corners of her mind, and it genuinely aches inside her chest to remember that.
Y/N always devoured lavishly every traditional Sokovian dish she has ever prepared and promptly asked for more – and then thanked her with a chaste kiss placed on the pulp of her lips, which promptly evolved into the building of an intimate, sweaty moment with two bodies rubbing greedily against each other.
But she soon lets out a crestfallen, rather disillusioned sigh, repressing herself for having gone back to those secluded memories amorously stored in the edge of her brain in the first place (of the concept of two adolescent girlfriends absorbed in love in the purest sense of the word, emulating the seriousness of a relationship with adult bearing, but never losing, at its core, the youthful sweetness worthy of teenage lovers). Two girls playing love in a world that was a little too hard on them.
She glares ruefully at the bulbous base of the red wine bottle and then lets out a sorrowful exhalation.
Her relationship with Y/N felt like it was straight out of the old sitcoms that she always appreciated so much, where no problem was a genuine obstacle and that, by the end of the day, the two lovers would be in each other's affectionately secure arms again (and that perhaps she let have an effect on her a little too much, when dealing about decisions made early on in her adult life).
But then she reminisces that she was merely turning eighteen years old when she became a wanted on an international scale, and that, prior to that, she had also grown up in a war-torn country.
She never knew how to behave like a normal person per se – whether that was before or after she became able to expel bolts of magical energy from her fingertips. She never quite knew how to fit into the role of a child or a young adult in the first place. Not by herself.
There was no time in Wanda’s life to understand precisely how to fit these labels (she was protesting with so much loathe constricted within her heart, volunteering to save her homeland, being made of little more than a lab rat by the clutches of a bunch of mad men, being used by the being that promised her greatness, but only ended up costing her the life of her darling brother).
In the cramped confines of a bleak, sullied cell, with only a modest television in the corner to entertain her mind away from the needles and the brutality, there were not many allusions of love and passions that elapsed through her life outside a square screen.
Wanda was aware that she just mimicked other people's movements and transcribed them into her own actions, as if it was all just a show and she was its young star, trying to intomb in her core the path of catastrophe and violence that had always shadowed her closely; it was only the years of strict therapy, self-knowledge and self-care, right after being blipped and coming back, that edified her to be her own person in a truly healthy way. There would be no more extremes in her life.
Her cohabitation with Y/N at the time facilitated, of course – even though her wife had changed a lot in the time that followed since the blip, at first, things had worked out well between them. Or as well as possible under the anomalous circumstances.
The two of them took care of the (still) newborn twins and of each other, always with great tenderness and affection while they did it. At least that's how it worked for the first year after their reunion – until Y/N got into alcohol's graces for good, that is.
Their relationship had always felt rather light and jovial before Thanos snapped his fingers. And after that she might even have come back, but it was indeed her marriage that had turned to dust in that remote dreary day in Wakanda. In all honestly, she's not quite sure what's changed in that meantime that she's been away (dead, she was dead). And it's uneasy to ponder about it, but sometimes she does – she can’t help it.
Her corporeal existence had disintegrated into a sift of life, crumbling into her own ashes. There was color, and then the dreadfully wide expanse of emptiness (death); she, as a self-aware being, ceased to exist with just a thought and a snap of two fingers.
Her consciousness faded before she could even realize she was doing it – the palms of both her hands constrained firmly against the wound in YN's stomach that was leaking bundles of fresh blood. And Wanda never relatively questioned her existence before that (she only questioned why she ceased to exist in the first place). Returning to dust, as people of faith would say.
Five long years that slipped through her fingers and dripped onto the floor in the form of a veil of dust.
It still feels odd in her guts, even ten years later, to remember that there's a void somewhere in her life that would be filled with the time that was thieved from her by the Infinity Gauntlet. A void that had once been filled by the subtle presence of Y/N's love.
(Once, when the twins were about a year old after the blip, Y/N drunkenly knelt down with her face defectively reclining on Wanda’s thighs and questioned her as to why Wanda and the babies where the ones erased from existence while she stayed behind, abandoned like an old piece of furniture that no one wants to use anymore. Wanda never knew how to answer it, but they got divorced about a month later)
But she imagines that it, the crumbliness of their relationship, has something to do with the fact that they were both a little precocious in getting married before their twenties properly speaking; maybe if they were older and more experienced before doing it, she thinks, standing in line at the supermarket, maybe then they wouldn't have had the sorrowful culmination that they did (the crying faces and the broken hearts).
Maybe they could have risen together, and not just drifted further and further away as the days passed.
Maybe Y/N didn't feel guilt-ridden every time the twins cried in need to be held or fed. Maybe Wanda wouldn't have queried her for the love she no longer knew how to give – she is fully aware of the fact that she has always had a somewhat pushy nature, after all.
Maybe this, maybe that.
She doesn't know why she's been thinking about maybe so much these past few days. But it's not her fault that her ex-wife happens to be so pleasing to the eye.
The person behind her in line grumbles again, and there is a mischievous chuckle that reaches her ears with airs of grace. Wanda is sincerely considering summoning some coins with her magic for Mrs. Davis.
“Oh my God, this wine is divine!”
It is Sarah Proctor who addresses Wanda, the key to undeniably everything in this town. Wanda knows it's the other woman because a sudden pulsing urge to fade away takes over her nervous system as soon as the voice echoes behind herself.
She is the high-nose blonde woman who lives up the street, is a devoted member of the Westview Elementary School parent-teacher association (in the year before Wanda had witnessed her make a young teacher leave the room in tears after a meeting), proudly cultivates the most exquisite yellow roses in the neighborhood and wears a pair of classy yoga pants that would fit a young teenager with half of her age. A self-proclaimed wine mom.
Her daughter is a classmate of Billy and Tommy, and the children often attend both the Proctor and Maximoff residences – which occasioned in Sarah a vague idea of intimacy that only endures in the head of the blonde woman with bobbed hair.
She has already invited Wanda several times to Westview Pool Club girls' gatherings, but Wanda politely declined with an odd smile and a trivial wave of her hand, because she's never been the socially outgoing kind of type—and she's always been under the impression that every attempt Sarah made from approaching her were due to the fact that the other woman knew of her past as an Avenger (as did most of the small-town citizens), and so was trying to turn her into a kind of living-tourist-spot for the eyes of the rest of the world to witness.
(Rumors had it that Sarah would run for mayor in the upcoming election, and having a former Avenger as the face of her campaign certainly sells well with the predilections of the American public. Little does she know that Wanda won't vote for her)
“Oh yes, it's one of my favorites” Wanda retorts, talking about the dark tall bottle of red wine prudently deposited inside her plastic basket “It's been a while since I've had a drink, so I decided to buy a bottle to open this weekend”
“Some special occasion, I suppose?” Sarah articulates a suggestive grin, but Wanda just frowns uncertainly, half squinting at her neighbor.
“What- no, no. No” she flashes a half embarrassed, half awkward smile, chuckling nervously while doing so “Y/N is staying with the boys for the weekend, so it's just a special little thing for me. All by myself. A quarantine-style staycation. A whole weekend... just to myself"
“Y/N, huh?” Sarah raises a well-crafted eyebrow in a pique of curiosity “Your ex-wife, right? I remember seeing her at the twins' birthday party. I mean, she's pretty, yes, but she's quite the quiet type, huh...”
“Yeah, she was never one to talk much… but neither am I, honestly"
“A pair made in heaven, indeed” Sarah then flashes a smile, but the taste that slides across Wanda's tongue is bitter and kind of hard to swallow.
She shifts her body weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other.
“But wait, she's also an Avenger, isn’t she? Yeah, she's the one in the black and white outfit! Oh my God! Who wore a jacket over it and had that kinda mean attitude, all punk rock and stuff?”
“Herself” Wanda agrees, pressing her lips together in a long, clumsy line. She just wants to go home and cook her damn kugel.
“Oh my, how did I not notice this before? I remember seeing her in the news once, when I was in college. I also had a taste for delinquents back then, if you know what I mean”
Wanda feels a hot twinge high in her face and she bites the inside of her cheek in a rather timid act (but there's no denying that Y/N's somewhat rebellious attitude has always had a lewd effect on her legs as a young teenager with a schoolgirl’s heart).
“She and Black Widow, I think, saved the life of the mayor in that bombing on the Fourth of July in... 2015, 2016, maybe? Yeah, I remember that! She's the one who's super strong, isn't she? Who held up a scaffold once and saved those kids”
 "That's her, yes"
The brunette muss in a limp voice, which seems to draw a slightly indecent laugh from the blonde woman with her shopping cart full of knick-knacks and silver hoops clicking in her earlobes. It is from her that the aroma of sturdy perfume comes.
“Well, I imagine that super strength of hers comes in handy in some… situations”
“Situ-“ but then she blinks just one time “Oh”
Mortification hangs over Wanda like a bucket of paint spilled over her dark-haired head.
She opens and closes her mouth like a golden fish, frowning, and her cheeks don't take long to reach strong shades of scarlet, glowing red like one of the tomatoes inside Sarah's cart.
It's inappropriate, and she knows it, but she can't help but feel a certain tingle in her breasts as lapses of memory enlighten her thoughts with the ghost of touches coursing along her body. Then she thinks of Y/N's warm, measured breath against her earlobe (of strong hands pinning her wrists above her head, of a tense, impassive hip against her own hip, of the cracked headboard and the broken bedframe). A movement and a moan. An electrical discharge in her bowels.
And then, fuck...
Just Y/N tearing her insides apart.
The other woman smiles viciously, and Wanda suddenly wishes she hadn't put on a sweater before leaving the house, because she can actually feel herself starting to perspire at the expectant look her neighbor bestows on her.
She's never been one to deal with such intimacies with anyone other than her ex-wife (merely some casual, unsuccessful and sporadic blind dates that's never been more than a few kisses and a few touches here and there, by no means ending up in her or anyone else's bed).
But she permits herself only to flash a wan grin towards the other woman when she realizes that, in front of her, the old lady has lastly found her damn change.
Fucking finally.
And then, with the memory still boiling hungrily in her innards, like a hungry beast devouring her from the inside out, she takes a large step in the other direction, trying to walk away from Sarah as humanly possible, as if the other woman carries with her a toxic cloud that sickens everything that comes in contact with her.
If Wanda couldn't probably get a nice lawsuit for that (or worst), she'd turn Sarah into a disgusting slimy frog.
“Well, I, I, I need to go, Sarah, but it was really nice meeting you around here. Bye” the enchantress raises her wrist, bidding the blonde woman goodbye with a wave of her hand and a small, introverted (half-awkward) grin.
There is barely time for an answer to be formulated on the part of the housewife. Wanda's cheeks are still red hot as she (virtually) dashes through the small supermarket's automatic double doors like a fugitive on the run. Mrs. Davis drops a coin on the floor on her way out.
You don't know exactly how long you've been raising and lowering the joint of your bent elbow above your head. It doesn't feel right to do it, just as it doesn't do it if it feels wrong. It's just necessary – it’s like cracking some eggs if you're in the mood for an omelet for breakfast.
You just have the fullest conception that a few good minutes have passed since the beginning of all the activity, and as in the rehearsal of a play, you are repeating the gestures until you overcome them with great proficiency and your culmination comes out perfect, from your liking.
And you don't bother to intend to stop doing it anytime soon – such a guttural, animalistic and barbaric action. At this point, the movement is already instinctive after being recorded in at the core of your memory, an automatic message engraved between the ligaments of your neurons.
 You've done it innumerable times before, and you know you'll do it a few more times after this one.
You lift your right arm, lowers your implacable fist constricted like a steel ball, the resonance of smashed cartilage and wrecked bones echoing in your eardrums, all instructed by the figure of a bloodthirsty invisible conductor within the ramparts of your own cranium.
The face of the bewildered guy lying beneath you looks like a loaf of raw, misshapen meat as you repeat a cadence of sequentially delivered punches against his facial bones.
And he, who is at least twice as big as you, lets out a piercing howl of pain from the cavernous depths of his throat, as even a wild bear would do if attacked deep in a forest.
But in that alley on Long Island there is not a soul available to help him to get rid of your uncomplacent fists – not at the end of a passage that is unpopulated, far from prying eyes that could creep in your direction during the action which takes place there, a beacon of environment squeezed between two amorphous walls of scorched bricks, which gives the illusion of a single long, damp, narrow street. 
A sphere of blood is clotted on your face, like an eccentric gemstone, a dark red pearl splattered under the arch of your left eyebrow. And you pant heavily, your veins stiffening.
You've never been one to refuse punching a motherfucker in the face – your forte has always been pounding up things, whether on the countless missions conveyed alongside your teammates or at work during your teenage years, taking advantage of your inhuman gifts to have something to eat at the end of the week.
You've never had a dilemma in whacking someone’s ass. Even more so when that said someone had committed a hate crime against a racial minority and got away with the trial, because that's the way it is in New York City.
The recurring metallic scent of fresh blood squirts in a jet of reddish color, thick and gleaming across your rigid, compact knuckles. The gruesome fragrance is no stranger to your sense of smell, and you're not quite sure whether you want it to be or not.
But it is what you are; as an inherent component of your biological chemistry (like the serum gushing through Steve's veins, altering him from inside out, or the magic pulsing within Wanda's core, changing the structure of her brainwaves), you know that hostility is a primeval part of your nature longer than the placid ends of an ordinary, quiet life.
The peaceable domestic life lived alongside Wanda is long gone, and desolation and wrath are your only roommates within the walls of your morbidly valueless apartment.
You've been living like a cornered animal for fifteen years in programmed mode, always exposing your fangs and your claws at any sign of danger, just self-destructing, dying little by little, not craving to exist for one more day after laying your head on the blandishments of your pillow and staring blankly at the ceiling, whirling through your usual drunken state. Just desiring to somehow wreck your imperishable body that can't be cut or torn by human hands or tools.
People much well-intentioned than you are long gone, and you, by some implausible probabilities, were (cursed) fortunate to have endured thorough all the catastrophes that life directed at you.
The car accident as a child. The blip as a mother and as a wife, as a friend.
The damn journey by the mountain of Vormir, in which three of you went in the grip of that appallingly isolated planet, and only two came back with a chest full of oxygen and life pumping through your nervures. The avid combat for proprietorship of all the six Infinity Stones, and the provenance of the final snap that brought back peace to the equilibrium of the universe by eliminating the existence of its greatest known threat at the time.
You just seem to live confined in this unbearable cycle of misfortune, and it's not fair to others that you are the person left to tell the story of those who are gone.
If only you could, you would swap places with the true heroes who gave their lives for the greater good. You would even be honored to do so yourself.
Your chest heaves and deflates severely within the molds of your leather jacket fitted around your shoulders over a short-sleeved plain shirt, your veins bulging with rushing blood, and you rise to your feet, setting up your knees, and step back to inspect the big man who lies defeated to the floor of the alley, amidst a pool of his own blood and filth typical of places like this — your jacket sleeve shimmering with bundles of fresh blood, a coat of gleaming sweat limping glistening on the beam of skin on your forehead, near your hairline.
He is still alive, groaning in a vital position, and is severely battered. And it was never your intention to kill anyone. He probably learned his lesson. Maybe you should break his legs, just in case.
A tremor rolls under your black sneaker feet as a loud motorcycle passes by in the distance. Sirens also pass presently afterwards, coming and going with their blue and red outcome.
But there, squeezed inside the claustrophobic walls of the dim alley, you are far from any possible intervention. You then register a single shake that travels along the outline of your left leg as your cellphone pulses inside the back pocket of your old jeans, shivering against your hip bone.
 You take an elongated gulp of air before diving into your flickering pocket and hooking the device through your fuming, blooded finger length. You know your pupils are dilated and dark.
Your gaze is empty and brittle as you scrutinize between the digitally formed words before your motionless eyes.
Frequent bursts of oxygen are a method of neutralizing the pulses of adrenaline throbbing in the artery inside your neck. But the taste that slips between your teeth is acid and sour, and you lock your jawbone at the information that is cognitive to you.
Hey, Y/N. Are you really going to come get the boys tonight? I saw in the weather forecast that it will rain later, so I wanted to check with you just to make sure
(seen)
It’s Wanda
(seen)
By the way
(seen)
Yes, you know it's Wanda (your sweet Wanda, the trace of humanity lingering inside your icy chest), that she texted you. And it doesn't astonish you at all (not anymore), because not many people contact you lately during the sunny period of the day.
You two have been keeping in touch the last few days, after all, you told her that you wanted to be more present in the twins' lives. And it's not an untruth at all, but your sly creaking anxiety makes you feel like it's a kind of uncertainty inside your throbbing stomach walls.
Maybe it's not the right decision, the voice inside your head spoke. Maybe at this point in life they don't need you anymore. Maybe this is a breakthrough, or even the commencement of a calamity worthy of a Greek novel, you're not quite sure yet.
You turn on your heels and spin your back on the battered man, so you can send your reply to your ex-wife's number without looking at the ferocious outcome of your latent tantrum.
yup, your avid thumbs type along the digital keyboard provided on the screen of the small electronic device, i’ll be there in 1 hour or so. hope they like cheeseburgers.
And then you slide your upper teeth along the flesh of your lower lip, somewhat unsure of how to proceed.
try to enjoy your staycation btw. you deserve it
(seen)
:)
(seen)
You don't know why you sent her that stupid emoji.
It's not like you're a teenager reproducing a failed flirtation attempt with the girl you have a crush on anymore.
But a lapse of realism is present as your vision aims on the blood folds on your stinging fingers folded around the cellphone, and you feel a heavy ball of constricted lamentation taking shape in the back of your throat when your sorrowful eyes scrutinize thorough the lines of your hands and find there only odious signs of a cavernous viciousness (a raw, physical cruelty also reflected within the mirror of your shattered soul).
In the background, the man is still groaning in pain. And you're not sorry you broke him in a beating. No, no. You're just sorry for yourself, because you didn't bat an eye when you did it.
Vaguely the memory of Wanda placing chaste kisses along your hands invades you, and you realize you wouldn't want her to kiss your unseemly fingers right now (because you find her too pure to dwell on the filthiness of your touch).
The skin on your hands abruptly itches and feels dull, and you don't feel like having those plagued fingers around your children’s immaculate faces anymore.
The twilight of dusk breaks with the trepidation of an ingrained thunder, which rumbles all in a glow of white light that splits along the longitudinal path that comprised the pleasant suburb that is Westview.
So, this is an opaque afternoon resulting from the middle of the rainy day, gray and hazy in its chilly essence, with tenuous threads of a torrential drizzle protecting the foundations of the two-story house on the slopes of the street, making the dewy ivy rustle on its ground, dripping slowly from the eaves of the ceramic tiles.
Standing on the porch of Wanda's house, you ponder that you should have listened to the weather forecast when it was said that during the afternoon there would be a period of rain. Your dark hoodie is really soaked through and your hair, pulled back in a high half ponytail, is damp against the skin of your own forehead. You feel kind of stupid.
Compact, opulent, slate-colored clouds were uneven against the emerald green of the panorama of howling houses, hills and trees, like the leaning of thick smoke from a desolate fire.
A fierce storm, nevertheless, is not anomalous in the face of the oscillating spring climate of the state of New Jersey, which is not a real stranger to the rainy weather of the season. Thus, the nonstop drizzle is not the atypical episode of the day altogether.
The conquering event of such a rank happens when Wanda opens the door and finds you there, standing with your elbows dripping cold droplets water in the light wood entrance, and then pulls you into the cozy embrace of the pleasant climate established within that domestic environment of her own home.
“For God’s sake, Y/N, you're soaking wet!”
She reiterates, surveying you with an apprehensive gaze that runs the length of your head to toe, her slender ringless fingers still pressed worriedly around the outline of your right forearm tucked beneath the humid fabric of your damp blouse – but Wanda doesn't seem to realize as she's still carries with the action, and you kind of don't want her to let go of you anytime soon, so you say nothing about the warm touch tingling on your cold skin.
“Yeah, the rain started when I was halfway there and there was no way for me to avoid it, so I just went with it” you mutter, with a certain lack of interest smoldering in your quiet voice “Sometimes I wish I still had a car...”
“But you didn't bring an umbrella?” Her gaze is accusatory in your direction, the tone of voice sounding dangerously concerned inside your ears.
“Well” you kind of sigh, shrugging your shoulders within your hoodie, without looking her straight in the eye “You see, I, hah… I didn’t think it was actually going to… you know… to rain”
And then you look at her, and the exact facial expression you'd expect to find there makes its way until it slides all over her face. She’s pissed off.
“But I told you it was going to rain!” she then frowns at you, looking a little exasperated while doing it, her beautiful features drenched in an irritated tone of incredulity “Seriously Y/N, you need to listen to what I say more! What if you get sick?”
You flick an eyelid at the grumpy figure of a very upset Wanda standing right in front of you, exhaling aromas of tea and crimson color. It's funny how the pique of nostalgia slips through your bones – there is an air of familiarity when a subtle sense of déjà vu settles into your cognitive system, like the feeling of coming home after a long trip. You feel at home. You feel belonging.
This image is very cherished to your spirit, and you can't help but to articulate a small grin that feels light in your heart in front of your ex-wife, who then aims towards your gaze with a gleam that is an assortment of misunderstanding and irritability flickering in the greenish irises, the color that look like two emerald stones embedded within her eyeballs, curving a single one of her sharp dark eyebrows in an high arching cut.
You feel married to her again for half a fraction of a second – it's like your remote newlywed routine all over again. And the feeling is actually good.
She looks so pretty. It's like you could kiss her lips right there.
“What? What's so funny?”
Wanda questions you in an almost petulant way, and you let out a pleasant chuckle as she tilts her head slightly to the side of her right elbow, her chin pointing toward the tip of your nose – her typical irritating movement as the harbinger of an angry reaction to anything that troubles her spirit.
“You know I'm physically incapable of getting sick, don't you?” you declare, still with a smile carved along the outline of your own lips, and Wanda crosses her forearms close to her chest in an even vaguely embarrassed way in front of you.
She was always a stubborn bratty type anyways.
“It's that super durability mutant thing or some shit like that. At least that's what Banner told me once, and he's a smart guy, so I believe him” you casually shrug, “I haven't had a cold since I was, like, thirteen. Shit, I don't even know if I remember what it's like anymore. You don't have to worry about me, Wanda"
“W-well,” she exasperated in a timidly cute way, even a little childish in essence, pressing her open palms against the sides of her hips well-guarded by a pair of pale mom jeans – the attire so far from the miniskirts and chains and torn clothes she used to wear when she was younger, at the apex of her mean girl phase.
Today isn't the first time you've noticed that her waist got wider as a result of the prudent ripening endowments of late adulthood blossoming into her beautiful body-type. It suits her well. You want to touch her skin through the fabric of those flimsy jeans and the thin white cotton blouse; your fingers itch to do it.
“Just because you don't get sick like other people it doesn’t mean you can walk around in the rain whenever you feel like it. You look like a wet dog right now, you know”
“Alright, alright, I get it” you raise both your hands to shoulder height in a placid gesture of surrender “No more walks in the rain”
“You're impossible, Y/N” she then rolls her green eyes into their sockets, but you just smirk jokily at her reaction.
It only takes a nonchalant magical flutter of Wanda's wrist, with her right five fingers all enveloped in a fading mist of crimson steam, for the well-versed witch to make your garments still swell on your body, expelling from the bristles of fabric, as even in a chemical separation reaction, the water molecules that soaked them in the first place.
It's like a huge hair dryer blowing hot air the entire length of your body and then unexpectedly stopping as if pulled from the socket, making your skin temperature pleasant again like a sunny embrace all around your body.
You find yourself dry in a matter of seconds, from your socks to your underwear, thanks to her remarkable magical gifts.
The tingles consequential from the scarlet mist touching your skin still slither down the length of your body. It is familiar and eccentrically comforting – it's like eating again a candy that you used to eat during the preludes of your childhood; tastes like home and happiness.
“You know what, your powers come in handy sometimes, I’ll give you that” you say in a mocking tone of voice, and she raises a single eyebrow in response.
"I'm still considering throwing you out for dripping water on my carpet, just so you know"
Wanda just casts a weary glance in your direction, but there's a slight lighthearted tone that resides in the green outline of her graceful irises, as if an inside joke has taken hold between you two.
She smiles, and so do you, because you feel comfortable while doing it – a pair of complicit grins from someone whose chest is filled of joy and fullness. The atmosphere that sets in is comfortable, and you feel more relaxed being close to her.
You don't really do it, but it feels like your fingers are entwined with the fingers of her own hand – the specter of touch is written between the two of you, and it's as if your soul can really feel hers at its core, like two magnets that can't stop attracting each other instantaneously. You've always gravitated towards Wanda's overwhelming presence, and things won't be any different now.
“Come on, the boys are watching cartoons in the living room” Wanda says, then turning her back on you so that you follow her lead to the intimates of the house, “You can stay until the rain stops”
You follow after your ex-wife without further circumlocution, the two of you passing through the small and comfy entrance hall as you go after Wanda into the large rectangular living room, your hands always tucked inside the single pocket of your hoodie as you accompany her with phlegmatic steps in your essence.
Your shoulders feel even lighter as she turns to you and casually offers you the sweetest smile you've ever seen in your life.
Torrential rain is still pouring down from the sky outside the house, and the boys Billy and Tommy can be seen wearing warm, comfortable clothes, both the twins snuggled up against the back of the gray linen sofa, their little smart eyes looking smilingly at each other’s faces and not towards the television screen, where some cartoon that seems unfamiliar to you is shown.
They seem to share some secret that only two people with some primal connection as to what unites them would be able to do it, but the sounds of banter irrigated in the air of childish shenanigans reveals the mockery between their giggles.
They are brothers and they are twins, yes, two parts of a whole, born of the same womb that they shared from the beginning of their existence as two living beings, but you were always a little happier to realize the closeness established in the friendship between your children. Billy and Tommy are each other's best friends.
The pair then seem to make themselves aware of the presence of their two mothers as they enter the room, and the smiles of both children scintillate in enthusiasm as the pairs of eyes look up and acknowledge your appearance a little further behind Wanda's still figure, following her very closely, ceasing the small section of chitchats they had between the two of them.
"Mom!"
"Mommy!"
From the sofa the boys joyfully call out to you, beaming in your direction. You can't help but do the same to them.
“Hey, my demons spawn. What are you up to there, huh?”
“We were preparing something! Okay, so, mom,” Billy speaks in response, barely seeming to be able to contain the glee of excitement inside his tiny body.
"Listen to this-!" Tommy complements his brother's phrase, in a tone of enthusiastic anticipation.
"Hey, I want to start it!" but the other twin intervenes promptly, almost indignantly.
Tommy frowns, turning up his freckled little nose towards a rather annoyed Billy, who is sitting next to his left elbow. The little boy briefly tilts his head to the left side towards his brother, and you know you've seen similar action in Wanda's characteristic mannerisms.
“No, I want to start it!”
"I want to start it!"
“But I want to start it!”
“I want to start it!”
“Why don't you both” Wanda then promptly interferes with the small disagreement between the boys, increasing her mother's reproachful tone of voice a little, preventing, at the beginning, that the intrigue takes a somewhat bigger proportions “Start it together?”
“Yeah” you support her in a complacent tone of voice “You two came up with the idea together, so the right thing would be to do it together too. Whatever it is, I mean”
"Okay"
"Okay..."
The two of them mutter almost in almost defeated tune, fidgeting together on the couch. You think that they look cute while they're there, tiny and sitting like two baby rabbits.
"You ready?" Billy questions in a low voice, turning to the brother beside him.
“Yeah” Tommy mussed back, nodding in agreement.
“Okay,” says Billy then, almost proudly, “Three, two, one, go”
And then, you can barely contain a smirk when the boys, in different and discrepant voice tones, begin a silly chant in their thin children's voices. In the corner of your peripheral vision, you notice that Wanda also lets out an amorous smile, melting into a comfortable puddle of kindness, dying in love with her two singing little children sitting across from the two of you.
“We like ice cream like any child should” they hum together, vocalizing playful tones as they proceed through the song's component words, “And if we get some ice cream, we pro-mise to be… good!”
Then they look towards the two of you, displaying expectant smiles written all over their childish faces. And you and Wanda exchange glances, and the smile she offers you is very similar to the one that graces the curve of Billy's lips.
"Nice try, smarty-pants, but you haven't even had dinner yet"
“But mama” Tommy replies in a pleading tone of voice “We really want ice cream!”
“Yes, we want ice cream!” exclaims Billy in agreement "We can't wait!"
“Well, we can have dinner first, then ice cream. What do you guys think?" you offer them, your eyes darting towards Wanda's face "But you need to have dinner first to grow to be strong and healthy, and ice cream is for dessert only. Right, mama?"
Wanda looks in your direction, and then smiles. And you smile back, because the situation is prone to do so. You, for the first time in so long, feel welcomed and hassle-free in the presence of others.
The air inside the house is blissful and warm, so unlike your empty, disdainful apartment forgotten somewhere on the West Side of Midtown Manhattan. Wanda doesn't feel like your ex-wife right now – at least, that's not how she looks at you.
“Right” her eyes flash pale green beams towards you “Let's have dinner first, mommy”
You wake up in the middle of the night, but maybe you just haven't fallen asleep at all.
The sheets that grace the bottom of your body are soft and comfortable, and the pajama set you wear is not your property. It's late in the course of the long night, and like so many that have passed before this one, you just know you wouldn't be able to rest your relaxation anytime soon.
How could you even do it? Perhaps you stayed longer than you realized detailing the gloomy ceiling of Wanda's guest room, counting in your mind as you scrutinized every passing second so that you still had control over something (time being something), so that you wouldn't go mad at being dismembered alive by each of your own inner demons.
If the beginning of the night was watered in jubilation and a serene comforting coziness on your part, the firstfruits of the dawn soon came to frustrate you in the form of intrusive thoughts quite harmful to your twisted mental health.
The torrential rain didn't stop anytime soon, and after having dinner with Wanda and the boys (in a very warm congregation, you were sitting at the table with your family, eating the same food as them and breathing the same oxygen, always supported by grins of pleasure as you chatted eagerly with each other), and the twins were slow to fall asleep after two generous mugs of chocolate mint ice cream each.
Your ex-wife insisted that you stay for the night after the two of you carried them upstairs and deposited them in their respective tidy beds, showering each of them with chaste kisses to the tops of their childish heads – Wanda's little staycation was long-forgotten by then.
You let out a disturbed sigh, both palms of your hands polishing the length of the dull face of yours.
What the fuck, you think, what the fuck are you doing there? This may even be your family, but this is not your house. It's not your home. Not anymore.
Reverberating through your insides you find the throttling need for a drag of a cigarette eating away at the bottom of your lungs like a harmful parasite sucking the life from its source, and then you get up to do it, because lying down feels like it consumes you from within in a profuse haze of bubbling anxiety that bursts from your stomach to your mouth, making you feel so weak inside.
It has always struck you as a somewhat ironic cynicism on the part of the universe that you, who are possessed of an impenetrable shell on the outside, suffer so much from the brittle fragility of your own interior – hard skin does nothing to protect a broken mind.
The lavender bedclothes had begun to tighten the muscle in your neck after a while, and in the room just down the hall, you assume Wanda sleeps comfortably cuddling in her bed.
When searching inside the single pocket of your hoodie, the well-folded garment on top of a plain desk in the corner of the room, soaked in the darkness of the shadowy environment, the absconse pack of cigarettes from a brand that you are quite familiar with, that keeps you company in the acrimonious moments of solitude, you take a single cylindrical unit towards the spaces open to your drooping mouth and then you find the cold lighter with your fingertips, leaving for the entrance door of the room offered to you by your ex-wife.
After descending the stairs, stepping one step at a time with your bare feet, you are surprised that the door leading to the backyard is already open before you are even there, and the cold night wind has blown inside the house like a curious, invisible animal, installing an icy feeling of dysphoria within the broad walls.
But before you could search with your watchful eye for some intruder who went beyond the icy specter of the night, in avid state of alert, you notice an apollonian silhouette hunched outside, sitting on the step outside the door, with a long waterfall of soft hair in the color of a raven's down running halfway down her spine.
The restlessness that weighed heavily on your shoulders eased as the familiar full-bodied scent of hibiscus tea mixed with the sweetness of a mild strawberry shampoo slithered into your nostrils and filled your lungs thirsty for smoke and tobacco.
As you approach, you see that Wanda, wearing a sheer silk robe over a red nightgown, is accompanied by a large cup that exhales small clouds of steam, with the tiny bundle that carries the tea herbs submerged into the hot water inside the dark container.
"You really have loud thoughts" Wanda's small, soft voice ripples through the air and then hugs your body as your ex-wife turns toward you with a lingering slowness that, to you, is as familiar as the taste of your unsmoked cigarette.
Her eyes glow an intoxicating green hue amid the darkness of the night, only supported by the silver light of the moonlight coming from outside the residence.
You feel like a frog being studied on a silver platter in some high school biology class.
Wanda's diligent gaze always seemed to be able to penetrate through the cracks of your soul – she always understood you as if she were an expert when dealing with any subject concerning you.
You let out an uneasy sigh, oddly scratching the inside of your throat as you do.
"Sorry if I woke you up, it wasn't... it wasn't my... intention"
“It’s okay” she mumbles serenely over a sip of hot tea, the pulp of her nacarine lips being moistened by the hot liquid she's ingested.
“I still haven't been able to sleep anyway”
And it's no surprise to you, because you slept and woke up next to this woman for several of the component years of your life span, and it was always well known to you that Wanda is a woman quite affected by long sleepless nights, not being able to afford to actually close her eyes and be fortunate enough to have a good night's sleep.
Countless were the nights turned to morning dawns, when you both resided under the same roof in the compound back at the Avengers Tower, so many years before you were there, standing in the middle of her kitchen, silently watching her perform the simple act of drinking tea at her backyard door.
“Still having trouble sleeping?”
“Once in a while”
Wanda answers you, and with her eyes she indicates the empty space next to her right elbow so you can sit there.
“Sometimes I need to relearn how to sleep all by myself”
Without saying a word, you cross the entire length of the kitchen, passing by the island and the marble sink, to be seated on the marble step that freezes your warm skin, next to the woman who smells of hibiscus with strawberries and deep scarlet tones.
Her eyes recognize the figure of the unsmoked cigarette between your fingers, unlit and forgotten like the insignificant little rolled-up tobacco paper that it is, and then she looks toward the profile of your silhouette, blinking once with her thick eyelashes as she does so.
“You start smoking again?”
“Yeah, it's been a while, actually. Not that I'm proud of it”
Your gaze shifts to the small cylinder, turning it between the digits of your index and middle fingers of your tender right hand.
“That shit helps me calm down, I guess. Or at least I like to think so. I don’t know"
Silence touches both of you shoulders, and there is a moment for Wanda to sip more of the tea that has spilled into her cup. When the drink is gone, then all the way into her stomach, she places the container on the floor, close to her left ankle like a tame kitten, safe from her company.
You are still hesitating in the uncertainty of whether or not to light up that damned tempting cigarette.
“Earlier today,” she begins, immediately drawing your attention to her pretty face, and you're met with her pink lip as she clamps her upper teeth over the contour of her wet mouth.
“You and me and the boys... it was good. They like having you around. And I... I like it too, Y/N”
She hums in the sigh of the night. You feel a crackling feeling swelling inside your swollen chest, but you don't say anything in sequence, because it's Wanda who continues to converse in the silver moonlight.
“I had forgotten what it was like. Me and you acting like family. It's good, It’s… really good"
You choke relatively. For Wanda, a heartbeat rumbled in her ears. And then she looks at you, and you look at her.
And suddenly, you don't want to light that cigarette anymore – because she leans her chin forward, leaning her head towards you, and you do the same when your body cries out for her, lips colliding in midair like the consolidation of a wish, a scarlet fever supernova bursting within your own chest.
And then, the full-bodied freshness of hibiscus darts into the half-open breach in the gap between your lips, pressing a velvety tongue against the slit between your teeth, discharging into your mouth a red-sour-sweet flavor, definitely good though, but rougher than usual as the two of you now share a needy, somewhat sloppy, even animalistic kiss.
Even if there is indeed a need on Wanda's part, and you just need someone to scare you away from the evil inside your head.
 Your ex-wife, in a thoughtless act, dives with her clever hands into the thin fabric of the tank top that clothes your impenetrable skin, grabbing the sides of your waist in a needy way, as if all she wanted at that moment was to feel you, as if her entire existence existed based on physically feeling you snuggled into her icy body.
She blinks, consenting to the overflow of her feelings, enraptured by the image of your cheeks burning and your chest heaving.
And she does what she thinks is right to do, which seems to be the only option possible in this small moment of affection and dedication, filled with an ember that if she could name it, she would call it love - because she knows she love you, even if she didn't say it out loud yet.
You are the love of her life, and she is the love of yours.
Wanda then hurls herself even farther forward, a nymph figure smitten with idolatry, and takes her prize, pressing the commission of her red lips against the outlined mouth with the flavor of melancholy that could belong to none other than you, so exotic, and never the same.
You feel the smart hands rest at the end of your spine with an almost practiced disregard, seeking nothing but feeling at first, far from the lascivious idea of consolidating the carnal act. Wanda just wants to feel you close, all to herself, comfortable in her grip.
Between a set of pink lips, a tongue is present, and this tongue curls up in another in a not hasty and exaggerated way. It's elegant. It's careful. It is harmonious.
But a slow kiss unravels, and Wanda holds her breath and returns in search of more of her favorite flavor to keep in her mouth, only to be promptly reciprocated by a devoted you, a soft nostalgic familiarity edging your silhouettes connected by the lips beneath a star-studded sky, with an absorbed perfection that no one else but the two of you would be able to achieve.
Up and down, side and side; surrounded by genuine attunement, lips moved carefully, following an invisible line that dictates your not so reckless actions.
A waltz of delicate, tangible lips that still fit together so perfectly, so neatly, that you might as well cry.
But the pacified kiss soon takes the form of a fervent kiss as you pant hot against your ex-wife's lips, and the fervent kiss becomes little kisses sprinkled around her neck that soon dissolve into a hollow moan, into a world where there didn't seem to be any more worries as long as you were in each other's arms.
In her own time, Wanda drags her teeth along the lower lip of your mouth, which groans deeply in response with a tingling in your throat, a tiny fraction of time passing until, like a buzz, quick, rough lips take refuge again in a tongue inside your mouth, and you feel an icy hand grasp your breast in a primitive way.
Clever fingers, soaked in crimson, traveled to your scalp, and a light mouth caresses yet another moan of yours. In a heartbeat, Wanda swings a leg over your knees and sits right on top of your lap, grabbing your wrists to put your hands around her waist.
The feeling is familiar. Toxically familiar.
It is the red invading your senses, intoxicating you with dense doses of scarlet.
You know very well that, even before the enticements of alcohol and cigarettes, your primary vice has always been the crimson sweetness of Wanda's body.
And, well… you're not known for being resistant to the temptations of your addictions.
A crimson marble glow glistening under the palms of both your hands. Sweat glistened in the hollow of your groin across your burning hips.
Wanda riding on your lap, naked as a Renaissance painting displayed in the dim light of a museum, her chest heavy like a marathon runner. The long, thick length of the red strap brushed against a specific spot on her inner walls that made her delirious and increasingly pivot her hips toward you, seeking more, brushing against each other like two animals in heat.
There was nothing rational in that animalistic act.
The symphony in the room was that of skin beating wet against skin; of her lascivious wetness voraciously swallowing your cock.
You could see it from the single, retracted drop of sweat that poured into the valley between her own swollen breasts, the two mounds swaying just before your lascivious eyes; a delight modulated to your stormy gaze, profuse as sea water, which clouded your young girlfriend's body with a predatory look, immersed in illicit labor.
Your insides tingled in a white-hot tingle, both clits sliding through the material of the strap, the insides of your thighs strong and wet against Wanda's pulsing center.
Her tight pussy pressing against the erect silicone phallus between your legs, the red of the material buffed with the sticky juices from inside of her. That was her bed, her sheets wet beneath your sweaty bodies, the walls of her room reverberating the pornographic grunts and moans from deep in her throat.
“F-fuck-!” she clenched her teeth, her nails lacquered with black nail polish carving red paths in the muscles of your back, “Y/N, fuck, right there, ah-!”
Her thick Sokovian accent spilled into your ears, and something primal and cavernous rumbled inside you, like a spark that explodes in a raging fire.
You wanted to own her.
You wanted to consume her.
You wanted to eat her alive; fuck her until the mold of your strap was forever etched into the walls of her greedy cunt, which was increasingly squeezing the silicone phallus, a delicious pressure forming a red knot just below her belly button.
“Ah-! Ah-!, pozhaluysta, pozhaluysta-!” she gasped in her native dialect, loud and clear against your ear as you fucked her as hard as possible “Trakhni menya... ya pochti u tseli, ya po-pochti u tseli... Ugh, dorogaya!”
“Fuck, are you close?”
“U-uhum! ” she kind of moaned, both eyes squinted two lewd lines “Please don't stop, don't stop Y/N, ah-!”
The scream was loud as you dropped her suddenly onto the sheets, her sweaty back slamming against the thick material of the mattress, her dark hair spilling across the pale material of the pillow.
You slipped your hands between the folds of both her knees and brought her lower back close, barely giving her time to miss your strap inside her dripping cunt before guiding the red material between her sticky folds, resuming the vigorous action of fucking your way against her coccyx.
Your strong hand pressed itself (as did the bone of your jaw) against the upholstered headboard, and there a rip was deferred by your own touch – as it had done to a plucked pillow, and a lampshade shattered to the ground.
The lamp above your heads flashed white. Wanda's eyes glowed a profuse scarlet that swallowed the moss green of her irises, the darkening of her dilated pupils making her eyes look like two bottomless wells of lust.
You buried your face against the beam of sweaty skin that joined her neck to her collarbone, and placed a generous, savage bite there.
"Fuck- I’m cumming, I'm cumming!" she decreed, panting against your bare neck, pressing her fingers against your buttocks in an incitement to the act they so indomitably committed.
“Cum for me Wanda” you murmured against her ear “Cum on my cock, pretty girl”
The bed hit the wall again. And again. And again.
You didn't stop at the first orgasm. Nor in the second. Nor on the third.
《《《《《《《ᱬ》》》》》》》
1K notes · View notes
themidnightcrimson · 13 days
Text
good morning ࿏ wm
Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary: in which you decide to get what you want first thing in the morning.
words: 3.9k
warnings: top!wanda, power bottom!reader, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink, cumstrap (r receiving), somno (r giving), blowjob on cumstrap (r giving), enhanced strap, brief choking, just imagining slutting top!wanda out like this woeidbsibfwioe its the power bottom in me
this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.
masterlist.
Tumblr media
The room was cool and the bed warm by the time you woke up. Legs shifting smoothly under the crisp sheets, you could hear the faint chirp of a lone bird outside the window along with what sounded like a gentle spring morning rain shower.
Plat plat plat plat the rain softly tapped against the window and quietly onto the roof above you. It was a sleepy rain, an early morning rain whose clouds blocked the sun from glaring through your window. It made waking a little easier, a little more soft.
The other thing that made waking a peaceful experience was the warm body you were tangled up with. The soft, curled ends of light brown hair tickled your bare shoulder, and it was the first thing you saw in the dim room as you opened your eyes. Your head rose and fell slowly with Wanda’s steady breath. It was resting on her bare chest, the skin there hot against your ear. She always slept so hot.
Your legs were tangled with hers, your arm thrown across her torso. As you blinked your eyes awake, you tilted your head upwards to get an angle of her from below. The stretch of her jawbone, the mountain of her cheekbones just beyond it. Heavy eyelashes fluttered closed, deep pink lips pursed in her sleep. The crinkle between her eyebrows that was always there when she slept. She was starting to get a permanent wrinkle from it, and while she was embarrassed of it, you told her it was just the imprint of all the dreams she’d ever had right there in one wrinkle between her brows so she would never forget them. Wanda was always a deep dreamer, for better or worse.
The puffy comforter you shared rested right below her breasts, likely pushed down during her overheated sleep. Her hair was splayed over her chest, barely covering the peaks of her soft pink nipples. Her skin looked pale and soft under the dim gloomy morning light. You let your hand glide over the soft expanse of her tummy, fingers pressing into her flesh as you shift, waking up a little more. Letting out a silent yawn, you casually let your hand stroll further down beneath the blanket, being thrown off guard a little when your hand touches cool silicone between her legs.
It was Wanda’s new creation still left strapped around her hips via harness from last night’s endeavors. It took a lot of research and magical effort for Wanda to create her enchanted strap that functions like a biological part of her body. Using her magic, she enchanted the strap so that she can feel through it and cum through it. Let’s just say the first few tries once she perfected it could be described as very quick, hot, and wet on her end. It was the most mind-blowing feeling she had ever felt, being able to feel you inside. Even now, a few weeks later, she still warns you how sensitive it still is, which you could tell from the beginning because of how fast she came with you.
Wanda’s magic was very powerful—spontaneous creation. For that reason, she insisted on wearing a condom the first several times using the enchanted strap out of fear of accidental pregnancy, though you knew she secretly had a breeding kink. Finally, she stopped using condoms, but she still pulled out of you every time. It was hot, seeing her get so close to just doing it, to just letting go and planting her cum deep inside you. You could see it on her face every time. But every time, milliseconds before release, she pulls out and chooses to spill all over your tummy or back instead. Of course, that was also hot in its own right. But you desperately wanted her to cum inside. You weren’t sure if it was the risk or the ownership aspect of it, but you fucking needed it.
And you knew she wanted it too. She had a tendency to hold you down when she’s about to cum, almost as if she is about to force you to take her cum, which you willingly would take every single drop. You even told her in a heated moment of passion to cum inside you once, and she almost did accidentally. Hearing you say that made her orgasm immediately, and she had to frantically pull out right as she spurted all over your mound, making sounds you’d never heard her make.
And now, in the dim morning light with cozy rain coming from outside, and Wanda’s soft, warm sleeping body with her cock in your hand as you thought over all these times with the new magical piece, you wanted it.
But she was so pretty and peaceful in her sleep with her crinkled brow of dreams and her slowly rising and falling chest. You wouldn’t wake her.
Licking your lips, you shifted your body so that you hovered over her, taking great care in slinking down her body without moving the blankets or the bed too much. With the hem of the blanket resting at the back of your neck, you rested your elbows over her plush thighs, eyeing the strap that now sat right in front of your face.
Humming, you trail your fingers to the harness straps, fiddling with the fabric on her hips for a moment before you carefully let them trail to the base of her cock, taking it in your fist gently. Glancing back up to her, you saw the same image—her head resting on the pillow, turned to the side, sleeping peacefully like an angel. The warmth between your legs grew as you formulated the plan of your desires, licking your lips and coming closer to her strap.
You placed Wanda’s length in your mouth. It surprised you every time how big she was—an advantage she smugly gave herself when crafting her piece. Suctioning your lips, you began to swirl your tongue around the tip of the strap with a gentle but purposeful pressure.
It didn’t take long before your mouth ignited the spell within the strap, and her magic peered through the silicone in cracks that looked like molten lava in a crimson hue. That’s how you knew she was aroused now, and as you looked up at her again, she was still sleeping as peacefully as ever.
It took some practice for you to understand how to give your girlfriend a blowjob since it was your first time, but Wanda was patient and could get off with basically any touch you gave her with how sensitive the strap felt when she wore it anyways.
So you lowered your mouth further down on her strap that was warming up between your lips, keeping your hand on the base to keep it steady. Letting your other hand gently squeeze her thigh, you sucked her gently, wanting to make her feel good but not wanting to wake her up. It startled you when, as you took her entirety in your mouth so that the tip of her cock poked the back of your throat, Wanda’s legs twitched under you. It was only once and, looking up as you deepthroated her, you saw that the sleeping look on her face remained unchanged.
The depth with which you took her in your throat prompted tears to form in your eyes and saliva in your mouth. Sniffling, you kept taking her all the way in and then suctioning as you lifted your mouth from her, letting your tongue flick around her tip before deepthroating her again. You were slow and gentle, but she was hot and throbbing with magical arousal. You could even smell it on her now and, reaching down under the base where her slit was, you found that she was wet there, too.
Getting excited, you bobbed your head perhaps a little too hard, and she twitched again, this time letting her head sway to the other side. You paused, waiting for any sign of further movement or signs of being awake, but she was still deep asleep, the crease in her brow deeper now. You went back to sucking her off dutifully, and as wet sounds filled the air, Wanda moved again, this time arching her back. The movement sent her hips bucking up, which shoved her cock into your throat unexpectedly, causing you to choke on her girth.
Recovering, you continued carefully and watched as she twitched and squirmed in her sleep, somehow still staying deep asleep even as you could feel her throb faster. Her lips fell open at one point, soft gasps of air filling the quiet, dim room along with your wet sucking sounds. Her body heated up even more under your hands, and she started to buck her hips more.
Picking up your speed, you deepthroated her more and more, choking yourself on her strap while she grew even more restless. You knew she was seconds away from cumming, so you grabbed the base of her strap and sucked harder and faster. Finally, with a whispery, sleepy moan, and a more violent twitch of her hips, Wanda came in your mouth. You kept your mouth around her, feeling her warm cum gush at the back of your throat and ooze down it. You waited, letting her twitch and gasp and push out every last drop of cum before you finally swallowed it and took her out of your mouth. She was sweet to the taste with just a hint of metal, an interesting mix of her magic that reminded you of the taste of her real arousal.
There were many benefits to this magical creation of Wanda’s, one of many being that there was an unlimited supply.
Her cock now wet and shiny and slightly glowing, you carefully crawled back up her body and straddled her. She had almost immediately fallen back into utter stillness as soon as she came, except for her chest that was rising and falling much faster now. Biting your lip, you reached down and took her breasts into your hands, squeezing and letting your thumb roll over her nipples that were already rock hard for you. You could feel her cock, resting below your thigh, twitch and throb, basically vibrating with magic. All you could taste was her cum that coated the inside of your mouth, the taste still soaked into your tongue.
She just looked so pretty, even more relaxed now, having just helplessly cum in your mouth without even knowing it. Leaning down, you pressed a chaste kiss to her still lips before moving your mouth to her neck and pressing soft, wet kisses there. You let your hand grope her breasts for a moment before sliding it down and rubbing her tummy, lowering it further and further until you reached below yourself and took her strap in your hand again.
Still kissing her neck, and feeling her twitch once below you, you adjusted yourself over her cock and rubbed your throbbing, wet slit down her length, not letting it go inside. You remember the first time you did that, before she ever went inside you with the new strap, and she had prematurely came. She had been so embarrassed, taking off the cum-filled condom and tearing the strap off of her and getting up, but you’d found it so hot. You loved having this control over her. You loved knowing that you held this power over her, that you could make her cum so easily, that she desired you so much that she found it hard to even have any control. You wanted to tease her constantly, to degrade her and embarrass her by using her desire for you against her.
Wanda’s sleepy breaths hitched as you rubbed your warm, wet folds up and down her length, leaving a wet, sticky trail on the strap. She shifted under you, turning her head back to the other side. Her eyebrows creased deeper, her face contorting into a look of neediness as she subconsciously bucked her hips, pushing herself harder onto you. Chuckling, you gave her one last kiss on her neck before sitting up fully, unable to control yourself anymore. You wanted to get what you truly wanted out of her before she woke up.
Your breathing growing heavier, along with the rain pattering much harder on the window outside, you lined Wanda’s cock up with your entrance, letting it sit there pressed against it for a moment. You took a deep breath—her size still surprised you, and you still needed to relax and prepare yourself before taking her in. Thanks to the blowjob and how wet you were, there was enough lubrication for you to lower yourself down on her cock, feeling her slide right in and stretch your walls around her.
“Fuck,” you whispered as you stopped halfway, feeling a tinge of pain. Wanda shifted beneath you, which didn’t help, so you just took another deep breath and basically slammed yourself down on her, Wanda’s entire cock ramming deep inside you.
As if on cue, right as you let out a louder shriek than you meant to because of the way her cock hit your cervix, Wanda also let out a sleepy form of a moan, her head swaying to the side as her legs shifted under the blankets below you.
Placing your hands on her shoulders, you stayed still and felt her throb inside you as she squirmed, watching her eyes scroll side to side behind her eyelids. Biting your lip, you slowly lifted yourself off halfway before coming back down again, nearly seeing stars when she hit your deepest point again.
It was obvious that doing this wasn’t going to keep her asleep for much longer. She was still moving, eyelids fluttering, lips twitching as if trying to speak between her growing breaths. She was breathing faster now, redness blooming on her cheeks.
There was no point in being careful now. Grinding your teeth together, you rolled your hips, throwing your head back as she hit your sweet spot in your lower tummy. She was so big that her cock was basically all you could feel as you rode her, feeling pure pleasure bloom inside you as you anticipated the ending you were dreaming about.
“Mmmm-nnnn” Wanda murmured as she squirmed more beneath you, kicking at the sheets covering her feet and arching her back. “Ahhh…” She was starting to come to, being lured by your actions into an in-between state between sleeping and waking. She was arching her back off the bed and bucking her hips up into you, natural instinct to have more friction and be as close to you as possible coming through.
Power filled you as you stared down at the helpless witch, her cock lodged deep inside you, throbbing as you bounced on it. You bit the tip of your tongue and squeezed her shoulders, digging your nails into her skin as you rode her cock.
The feeling of your nails in Wanda’s skin was the one thing that brought her into awareness. Her eyelashes fluttered, mouth dropping open. Finally, her eyes opened fully, exposing those pretty irises that were usually green but were now a deep, sleepy crimson red from the magic she was subconsciously using.
A grin slashed across your own face, your tummy filled with excitement as you watched the look of confusion on Wanda’s once peaceful face. This was the second moment you were anticipating the most. Her eyebrows contorted in confusion as she stared up at you, her eyes blank with dumb sleepiness at first as her mouth let out heavy breaths. Then she blinked a few times, her eyes falling down over your body and to her own. She saw her cock, glistening with wet, appear halfway with every other bounce you made. She watched it appear as you lifted up, and then disappear again as you slapped yourself down on her lap.
Then she felt it. The tight, wet warmth. The squeezing of your walls around her. The more textured parts around your cervix, how much warmer and tighter you felt the deeper she was. Your lips smushed against the base of her cock when you had her fully inside. The ridges of your cunt massaging her length as you jerked up and down on her, the friction feeling like a white hot flame of pleasure with each stroke.
Her mouth fell open wider with a loud, startled moan, her hands immediately slapping onto your hips and holding them. “Baby!” she exclaimed in surprise, trying to blink the bleariness out of her eyes as you continued fucking yourself on her.
You giggled at her reaction, how she was confused but so turned on and so obviously overwhelmed by the feeling of you milking her cock as soon as she woke up, this being the very first thing her consciousness experienced this rainy morning. You felt her cock swell a little inside you, now that she was awake with her magic.
Her breathing turned into gasps, her eyes squeezing shut as she hissed through her teeth, her hips trembling as you slammed down onto them. “Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck,” she croaked, her voice sleepy and husky and burning hot in your ear.
“I always wanted to wake you up like this,” you whispered, scratching down her chest and over her nipples, causing her to let out the cutest little high-pitched whimper.
“Fuck,” was all she could whisper, holding your hips as they bounced up and down on her length.
You could see the sweat breaking on her forehead, the flush in her cheeks, the way her tummy tightened under your palm. She was getting close.
“D-Did you use prot-protection?” Wanda stammered, her brown hair starting to stick to her temples. She knew the answer. She could feel it, but she needed to ask anyway.
Chuckling, you let out a pornographic moan just to make her shudder and then said, “Nope.”
Wanda’s eyes widened a little in panic. She could already feel herself leaking a little, or maybe it was just your wetness, which was also dripping down her shaft and onto her thighs. Through the slight panic in your eye you could see the desperation, the idea she always dreams about sitting right there in her brain.
You purposefully clenched, and she bit her lip and threw her head back, her body lifting off the bed as she pushed herself into you. You gasped at the depth but used your strength to pin her hips back down to the bed.
“Baby,” she breathed, her eyes barely open. “Baby, get up.” Her voice grew breathy with quickness. “I’m gonna cum. Get up.” She slapped your hip a few times to make you get up, but you kept riding her.
“No,” you purred, leaning down closer to her face and smirking. “You can easily push me off if you want to.” You watched her, struggling to keep her eyes open, her body moving with your bouncing, look up at you with such a strong mix of horror and desire on her face. You waited, but she only continued to struggle beneath you, not making any effort to use her magic or strength to push you off. “So why don’t you?”
Wanda whined, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as if just looking at you was going to make her bust. Her nails dug into your hips as she trembled, looking like the pleasure was turning into pain as you continued to ride her. There was no way she would actively deny you. She could stop herself all she wanted when it was her in control, but if you were going to take it from her, she couldn’t not acquiesce.
“Baby, please,” she murmured through gritted teeth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes from the struggle to keep herself from cumming. You knew she could stop it if she wanted to—you didn’t have her physically wrangled, and even if you did, her magic could put an end to it immediately. “Please, get up, I can’t hold it.”
Grinning, you slam your hand over her throat, and she gasps, choking slightly as you squeeze her throat. “You’re so cute like this,” you whisper, “Begging me to stop. You’re the one who can’t control yourself.”
Tears were falling down her cheeks now. “Please, please,” she begged, her eyes squeezed shut. “Please, baby, I can’t—I can’t hold it—I’m gonna cum, fuck, please…”
“Do it. Give me all your cum,” you hiss, riding her harder to the point where the bedframe slams against the wall. Wanda, choking on the pressure of your hand around her throat, trembled and violently twitched below and inside you as she tried her hardest to hold it. But she was hot to the touch, and so were you, and your cunt felt so good squeezing around her cock, and you were taking complete advantage of her which she found to be so hot, and she hadn’t been able to stop dreaming about breeding you for weeks now, and it was all too much for her to even stop it.
“Fuck, baby, fuck, get off, I’m gonna… fuck, fuck fuck!”
Wanda’s nails dug into your hips as her words turned into incoherent babbles, her mouth falling wide open and her body lifting completely off the bed as she finally lost all control. You tried to watch her as long as you could, but your eyes fluttered closed when finally you felt her cock give one last hard twitch before loads of her burning hot cum went gushing deep inside you, splashing the wall of your cervix and filling your tummy all up.
The feeling made you cum, shivering on top of her and squeezing around her which only prolonged her orgasm even more. Wanda saw flashing images of you pregnant, which had been fueling what she thought was fear for weeks now, but she was learning just now that that fear was pure fetish. She tugged your hips down onto her and pushed herself as deep inside you as possible as she loaded you with her cum, surprising you with her strength as she kept you in a complete hold.
After a few moments, when she had filled you with all she had to give, which was a shocking amount this time because of how long she had held it, and you were limp against her chest, recovering from your own orgasm, Wanda finally relaxed, letting go of your hips and closing her eyes.
“Fuck,” she breathed, panting as sweat rolled down her tear-streaked face. You were quiet for a minute, relishing the feeling of a full tummy of Wanda’s cum, her cock throbbing gently in your cunt. You were so glad she’d enchanted that strap.
Finally, you hummed, looking up at her. She looked dazed and fuzzy-minded, her eyes hooded and cheeks blushing red from embarrassment. She sighed and grinned sheepishly, placing her hands over her face. You smirked. “That was a lot better than cumming on my tits, right?”
Wanda breathed. “Well, good morning to you, too.”
2K notes · View notes
xxxdreamscapexxx · 7 months
Text
Sweet trouble
Tumblr media
Pairing: Step!Mother Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Word count: 12.7k
Summary: Being left home alone is the perfect time to catch up on all your secret activities. What you don't expect is that your Step Mother has secrets of her own, or that you'll stumble on them accidentally. What will happen when she finds out you've been going through her things?
Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, Stepcest?, masturbation, edging, teasing, oral, fingering, finger sucking, Mommy!Kink, top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader
Masterlist with all my works.
When you woke up this morning, you never, in your wildest dreams imagined that one of your most secret, most shameful desires will come true. It was something you had only seen in fanfiction and maybe twisted porn, but never believed real people did, or that it could in fact, happen to you. Truthfully, if someone had told you such a thing will happen, you would have scoffed and called them crazy.
But you were getting ahead of yourself. Your morning started the way it often did during the summer. You got up and walked down the stairs, to find Wanda sipping her coffee and scrolling through her phone. As usual, she put it away as soon as she saw you and she greeted you warmly.
Wanda Maximoff was your stepmother. She had married your father a little over 4 years ago, but you had known her for almost 5 and despite having a rocky start with the woman, you actually had a great relationship with her. She was warm and sweet and she never treated you like a child, nor did she try to “replace” your actual mother, who did her best to stay in your life. In fact, Wanda treated you with respect and kindness and you soon saw her as a friend.
Well… That wasn’t entirely true. You started seeing her as a friend at first, but over the years that connection shifted. She talked to you about the things your parents never wanted to, she always listened without prejudice or judgement and gave amazing advice. She also cared about your interests and she supported all your hobbies and little projects and she even often helped you.
Wanda was there when you decided to make a replica of the “T.A.R.D.I.S” from “Doctor Who” and spent an entire weekend helping you build it, so it would end up perfect, she watched every scary movie you asked for, because you could never bring yourself to do it on your own, and even though you were both scared, she always pretended not to be. For your sake. And then, when you were too scared to sleep alone, she pretended to fall asleep on the couch and let you snuggle into her, even if her back hurt the next day. She encouraged your writing, she read every book you ranted about… She supported you when you came out. For all those things and so much more, you gave Wanda your love.
Unfortunately for you, those were also the reasons why at some point, you stopped seeing Wanda as a friend and started seeing her as the woman of your dreams. Yes, cheesy. But true. And that idea gnawed at you ever since you stopped trying to lie to yourself.
The truth is, you spent way more time with Wanda than your father ever did. He was good, a good man and a good father, but his work often had him travelling for long. When you were young, he often took the whole family with him. Had private tutors for you, made sure you were educated by the best and brightest and the love of learning connected you together. But as you grew older, that life drove your mother away. To make the matters worse, he realized you needed stability just around the same time he met Wanda and soon, you were left in the big house, surrounded by housekeeping and your new stepmother, while he was away for months at a time. But at least he let you attend high school, instead of hiring more tutors, so you wouldn’t feel so alone.
You often wondered why Wanda chose to be with him when you, his daughter, knew more about her, spent more time with her and, you were sure, loved her far more than he did. But you never dared to ask and she never spoke of that, preferring to focus on you instead and you reciprocated that interest. You watched her favourite sitcoms with her, spent afternoons making pottery with her, which resulted in way too many crooked ceramic mugs in your home that you never knew what to do with, but loved too much to throw away. You taught her calligraphy, after you showed her your first story and she declared that you have the “prettiest handwriting” and asked you to teach her. In turn, she gave you cooking lessons, because her food was by far, the best thing you had tasted, until it became a tradition that you made dinner together.
God, you shared so much of your life, so much of yourself with the woman, you gave so much of yourself to her, that it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that you ended up falling for her. And her way with you didn’t help matters either. And yes, it wasn’t something outrageous. It was little things, like the way she’d hold you, pulling you closer into her side during movie nights, which by the way were almost every night. It was the way she sat with you on the couch in the study, reading her book while you did homework, mindlessly playing with your hair, it was her protective on the small of your back, when you felt surrounded by people, the way she always knew when you needed her to step in and save you from strangers, or the soft way she held your hand when you went somewhere together…
It was never one thing. It was a million little things and each one had you falling more and more deeply in love with her, until you couldn’t deny it anymore. You realized it during your junior year, when all your friends wouldn’t shut up about boys and their crushes and all you would think about was Wanda. What plans you had with her, what you’d watch with her, what meal you’ll be making together, where you’d go over the weekend… It was all Wanda. Even in your dreams. And to make matters worse, those dreams soon manifested into your waking hours, flooding your thoughts with nothing but her.
Now, the beginning of summer after senior year, when you had decided to take a gap year before college and focus on yourself, your writing, perhaps even travelling, you were fully aware that you wanted none of those things without her. You hadn’t booked a single destination, because you hadn’t yet the courage to ask if she’d join you. You had stopped showing her your stories, because they were all about her and despite your best efforts had turned highly suggestive and then straight up erotic, up to the point that they no longer soothed you, when you thought of Wanda, but rather left you even more turned on and needy.
The neediness, unfortunately for you, had been another new development. No matter how many cold showers you took, how many times you masturbated to thoughts of her, the ache between your legs never quite went away. Actually, every time you’d see her, every night when she cuddled you and played you a movie, every evening when you helped her make dinner, each hot afternoon spent at the pool with her, left you a horny mess.
Today, after you helped Wanda make breakfast, that the two of you shared, she asked you if you’d like to go out with her. She had some errands to do and she promised to make it fun, despite the tediousness, offering you lunch at your favourite restaurant, or perhaps a small shopping trip in the afternoon, but you declined, opting to stay home instead.
To be fair, you wanted to go with her, you wanted to spend every second you could with her, but being left home alone meant that you could perhaps catch up on your writing without her seeing you and asking to read your story, or finally take care of the ache between your legs that lately never went away, but you were never alone for… Maybe even do it, the way you so often longed for, but never could… God, you were a twisted girl. But you couldn’t help it. You just wanted her so much.
Wanda seemed a little bit surprised and frankly disappointed by your refusal, but she took a deep breath and she wished you a nice day, before she took her purse and her car keys, phone tucked in the back pocket of her tightly fitted jeans and she left, putting on her stylish sunglass, before opening the front door and disappearing from your view.
As soon as she was gone, you rushed to the study, reaching out behind a cluster of old, dusty books and taking out the Paperblanks hardcover journal dedicated to Edgar Allan Poe that she got you as a gift. It was beautiful and stylish and filled with all the stories you wrote about her.
As soon as the notebook fell open, you saw the last page you had written on and your fingers traced the last paragraph, reading through it. “You don’t hesitate when your fingers lace with my hair, your grip firm as you hold me in place and you study my face. My mouth open, my tongue sticking out as it awaits your dripping pussy...” Yes, you remember that and your legs instantly cross over each-other at the wave of arousal, but you keep it at bay.
For the next few hours all you do is write. Your fantasies running rampant and free and filling the pages. It was almost a trans-like state, your hand moving almost on its own while the images in your head played out in front of your eyes. It felt freeing to be able to “share” your thoughts somehow, even if no one ever saw them and you only reluctantly stopped, when your stomach growled for food and your hand was cramping.
You made your way to the kitchen, groaning, your writing session had left you wet and so needy, that despite your instincts and Wanda’s voice in your head, telling you to eat something heathy and filling, you pulled out a fruit yogurt with mango and maracuja and ate it, leaning on the counter, wanting to stretch your legs a little.
Finished with your “meal”, you headed upstairs, making your way to the bedrooms. Yours was at the end of the hall and you headed for it, but stopped mid-way, when you saw Wanda’s bedroom door was slightly ajar and you stopped right in front of it, debating with yourself. You knew you shouldn’t go in, that it was an invasion of her privacy, but your heart was so full of longing for her that you eventually reasoned, that you’ll only look around… Just get her scent in your nostrils and leave.
As soon as you walked in, your eyes started to search the unfamiliar space. It’s not that you’ve never been here, but the room was so alien to you, one you’d spent the least time in, that it almost didn’t feel right. You certainly never dared be so inquisitive, when Wanda was there with you.
Your eyes scanned every object, every photo, most of which were of you and Wanda and you allowed yourself to breathe in the aroma of everything Wanda. It smelled like clean sheets and her favourite vanilla and Himalayan magnolia air freshener, like her perfume and just something uniquely her. God, you’d roll around in it if you could.
Everything seemed so perfectly in order, her bed made and without a single crinkle in it, the room so pristine and clean. It was lovely, and your heart skipped a beat at the thought that you wished you could wake up here, next to her each morning.
Walking further into the room, your curiosity almost entirely satisfied now, you ran your fingers over the objects she had on display. Souvenirs from trips the two of you had went to, her certificate for completing a “beginners” course in Latin dances, that she only went to for you and that you had stopped attending, because you hated how every man in the studio drooled over her, the ceramic figurine of a cute bear that you made her one time, a bowl of sea shells that the two of you had collected last summer at the beach…
You were just about ready to leave, when the sight of a drawer, half-open and because of that seeming out of place, caught your attention. Everything was so perfectly in order in this room, that it looked so strange to see it left like this and you went to it thoughtlessly, pulling it open to inspect its content, only to gasp in surprise at what you found there.
It was full of toys. Sex toys, to be exact and you couldn’t help but stumble backwards a little at seeing just how many there were. Dildos in all colours, shapes and sizes and made from different materials were organized, each in its individual place. Handcuffs, soft Velcro cuffs and steal, regular ones easily distinguished. Ropes, blindfolds, some butt plugs, vibrators, lube, a couple of harnesses and even other things that you couldn’t name or guess the intended use of, could be seen laid out and you studied them with deep curiosity.
Did Wanda use all these? Did she lay here, in her big, soft bed and play with herself at night? What did she think about? Who did she picture in her fantasies, when she buried one of these toys inside herself? Did she do it slowly, or did she like it rough? How did it feel to be stretched out and full?
As your mind was flooded with questions, you mindlessly got closer, your hand reaching into the drawer and your fingertips grazing a rather large, realistic looking dildo. You’d never actually seen toys in real life, so the sensation was both strange and exhilarating. Sure, you were 19 now and could buy them if you wanted to, but the thought just never appealed to you.
You just couldn’t picture it. You’d never had anything other than two of your fingers inside yourself and it had already felt too much. You couldn’t even imagine what something so big would feel like or would do to you. Did Wanda enjoy the feeling of them? Did she ever wear her harness and bury one of these inside someone or did she like to be on the receiving end? You certainly liked to imagine yourself on the receiving end of one of her toys, especially after you learned of her past with women. She had shared those details when you came out to her, hoping to soothe you and help you feel like you’re not alone, but you never imagined that you’ll one day walk into your stepmother’s bedroom and find so many toys, or that you’ll find yourself wishing you could see her play with them… God, the one you reached for looked so big, so thick in your hand. That could never fit inside you.
Yet the thought of Wanda stepping into her harness and picking out a dildo from her collection, while you waited for her in the bed, spread out and so needy for her, had your legs squeezing together in search for relief. Would she tie you down? Would she be sweet and soft? Would she use her fingers and her mouth? What would it feel like to have your arms wrapped around her, to be able to kiss her, as she had her way with you?
Fuck, you needed relief. And you needed it now. And you knew you should just go to your room and do what you always did, but this time you couldn’t. You couldn’t just close your eyes and picture Wanda, when here, in her room, all your senses were surrounded by her.
You hesitated for a moment, considering the danger, but it was still early and all the staff had the next few weeks off, so you knew you’ll be all alone. You could just… Lie down. Not even under the covers, just on top of her sheets and maybe pull your panties to the side. They were all wet already. You’ll just pull your dress up and take care of that ache and then you’ll fix Wanda’s bed and leave.
You knew it was a bad idea, but in your brain, clouded by lust, you couldn’t help yourself and gave in. So you did exactly as you planned, the skirts of your dress bunched up around your waist, your panties pulled to the side, while your fingers circled your clit. You lay on your stomach, you face buried in Wanda’s pillow and inhaling her scent as your mind filled with images of her. It was wonderful. God, it was heavenly. But it wasn’t enough. Before you knew it, you had made yourself orgasm twice already, but the desperate feeling never went away. You needed more.
You slowly turned, laying on your back, your hand finding its way back to your clit, but it was only a measure to keep you calm while you thought. What could you do? And almost like fate, your face turned to the open drawer full of toys and an idea sparked inside you. You could… No, that was an extremely bad idea. It was wrong… But maybe, it could help?
Getting up, telling yourself you’ll only take a quick look, you made your way back to the drawer and looked inside. You had no idea how to choose, so you trusted your instincts, picking a fairly small, pink dildo that seemed to look cute and entirely forgetting what a terrible idea this was, you made your way back to Wanda’s bed with giddiness, lying on your back and looking the toy over for a moment, before reaching down.
You rubbed the toy’s head against your opening, getting it slick with your juices and teasing your clit a little, before you started to slowly push it inside. The stretch felt unfamiliar, the toy, despite being small, still being larger than your fingers and you took your time to let it sink in deeper, allowing your pussy some time to adjust to it.
In just a few minutes, you had it fully inside you, the base pressing against your opening and oh, it was perfect. It was exactly what you needed and you quickly reached down with your free hand, finding your clit and adding the extra stimulation. Thoughts of Wanda quickly made their way into your head and you started to imagine the older woman doing exactly what you did to yourself, her hands working you perfectly, while her velvety voice wrapped around you and made you lose yourself entirely.
Taking your time to let it unfold, your body buzzing with excitement and pleasure, your muscles tightening, you knew you were about to have one of the best orgasms of your life, when suddenly, you heard the front door open and shortly after shut itself.
Fuck!
Sitting up, you heard Wanda’s keys land in the bowl with yours and your nervous anxiety hit a new high, when she called out your name form the living room.
Fuck!
She’d start looking for you soon, if you didn’t act quickly! God, what do you do? You needed to get out of there!
Your eyes roamed around the room nervously, toy still buried inside you and you knew you couldn’t put it back like that, covered in your slick! She’ll see it eventually and then she’ll know what you did. In the rush of the moment, you did the only thing you thought would be smart. You put your panties back where they belonged, seeing the imprint of the dildo against them and you got out of her bed. You tried to smoothen it as much as you could, but you herd her voice call out your name again, this time from the kitchen and you knew she’ll come up the stairs next. In a rush, you just closed her drawer and practically ran out, leaving the door slightly ajar as it was and you hesitated if you should go to your room, but before you could make your way there, you heard Wanda’s steps as she ascended the stairs and you knew there will be no time.
Closing your eyes for a moment, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress and feeling the fullness as you tried to calm your nerves, you committed to the decision you knew you had to make and despite every instinct of yours, you rushed towards her, meeting her just as she was at the top of the stairs.
“Ah, Y/N, there you are! I was calling you.” She smiled as she saw you, reaching out to give you a hug.
“Yeah, I heard you, I was just coming to meet you.” You manage to say, forcing a smile.
“Are you all right, honey?” The older woman’s eyebrows furrowed. “You look a little flushed.” She said with concern, one of her hands reaching out to feel your forehead. “And you feel warm too.” She determined, her eyes scanning you.
“Yeah, I’m all good.” You tried to reassure her, still practically blocking the older woman’s path.
“You sure?” Wanda asked once more, concern evident in her eyes and you tried to calm your nerves.
“I promise.” You tried to say with conviction and hoping your knees wouldn’t buckle.
“Ok, honey, but if you feel unwell, you’ll tell me, right?”
“Of course.” You smiled warmly and, seeing that the woman seemed to be going to her room, the place where you had just been, you tried to dissuade her. “Hey, I was wondering, could we have pasta for dinner today? The one with the special sauce you make?”
“Sure, honey.” Wanda beamed, her hand stroking your cheek softly before she moved past you. “Let me go get changed and we’ll go make it together.” She suggested.
Not wanting to seem weird, you let the woman pass and after watching her enter her bedroom, you actually relaxed a little, thinking that you could use this time to go back to your own room and pull out the dildo still nestled inside you, when her voice forced you to stiffen once more.
“Hey, honey, why don’t you go and take out the vegetables from the fridge and start washing them? I’ll be right down.” Wanda called out, interrupting your train of thought and destroying any chance you had of going through with disposing of the cursed toy.
“Ok.” You called out, facing the stairs defeatedly.
In your guilt over what you did, you felt like you couldn’t risk saying “no” and going to your room instead, not wanting to rouse Wanda’s suspicion. So, a little wobbly on your legs and feeling even more aroused than when you first went in her bedroom, you walked down the stairs, doing exactly as she asked, planning how to excuse yourself later and pull the damned thing out of you.
Wanda walked into her bedroom and started to unbutton her shirt, asking you to start dinner as she went, but suddenly stopped, her eyes narrowing. It wasn’t that there was something particularly wrong, it’s just that something felt out of place and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
Shrugging, she tossed her shirt on an empty chair and started to take off her jeans next, leaving herself in just her underwear and going to the closet to pick out more comfy clothes. She put on a pair of black sweats and took out a dark red top that she knew you loved and put it over her head, turning to leave, when her eyes narrowed again.
Her bed was all wrinkled and the covers were looking lumpy and it bothered her somehow. Did she leave it like this today? She leaned down and started to fix it, her hands smoothing the covers and tucking them in as she always did, when her palm ran over a damp spot. Now this really caught her attention and she inspected it more closely.
It looked like a small wet spot, more visible now that she knew to look for it and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Had you been here? But why would you be on her bed? That didn’t make sense, until a realization came over her, like pieces of a puzzle coming together. Your flushed face, the way you tried to block her path, how out of breath you seemed and this… The state of her bed… She suddenly straightened, rushing to her drawer.
As soon as she opened it, she knew what you had done. She knew her collection very well, knew exactly what she owned and where it was, so the absent pink dildo was like a glaring hole in the middle of her drawer. But why hadn’t you put it back? Had she gotten home and interrupted you? That seemed more and more likely and at the thought, she could only sigh.
Wanda was a lot of things, but stupid just wasn’t one of them. She realized you had a crush on her somewhere around the end of your junior year and at first the thought scared her. Sure, she had noticed you turning into a beautiful young woman, she wasn’t blind, and you had already shared with her that you were gay, but she never imagined you’d develop feelings towards her. Naturally, she thought it was simple curiosity. You were growing, it was normal. It would probably go away on its own. You were surrounded by girls your own age, with young bodies and unburdened by life, so she believed you’d soon move on.
But as time passed those lingering looks you gave her started to be accompanied by something else. A kind of longing in your eyes, a kind of shy almost hope that she couldn’t quite place. Until eventually she did. Wanda knew you better than anyone in the world, she knew what made you tick and as she watched your gaze follow her, while she sipped wine, your eyes fixed on her lips and your legs squeezing together, she realized that your relationship with her had changed. You saw her differently.
That thought scared Wanda more than she ever expected and she excused herself quickly, practically running to her bedroom and burying her face in her pillow and her first thoughts were for you. She felt terrible, imagining how scared you must be, how sad and disheartened to be infatuated with your father’s wife. She kept thinking about how alone you must feel, not being able to tell anyone. How heart wrenching it must be to spend every day with her and know she was with another.
In her eyes you were her girl and she held so much love for you that the knowledge that she caused such feelings inside you, that she caused you so much pain, was devastating to her. After realizing what really bothered you, she spent so many sleepless nights, thinking of you. And in her love, she thought the best thing for you would be to pull away from you.
Yes, she didn’t love your father anymore… If ever. He was hardly ever home, hardly ever spending any time with her, always promising to retire, but never doing so… The only reason she stayed all this time was always you. She married him because she wanted a family, never expecting that she’ll find that in you. And when she had… Well… That made her choice very easy. But you were such a young girl. An old soul, admittedly, but still so young. She couldn’t let you spend those sweet years pining over your stepmother. So pull away she did.
Little did she know how devasted you’d be, feeling her absence as a hole in your heart and crying so many nights, when you thought that she no longer wanted your presence. She watched your heartbreak from afar, hating herself for it, yet thinking it would be for the best, until one night, when she heard you speak to one of your friends on the phone.
Your broken voice almost made her cry then and there and she vowed to never do that to you again. So she made sure that things went back to normal, to the routine the two of you had, but she never quite stopped noticing how the love in you bloomed.
The summer vacation after your junior year she spent entirely with you, having a grand time going to the beach, sunbathing, while you read books and drank cocktails together. Yours virgin, of course. But she’d let you have a sip from hers every once in a while, to indulge your curiosity. She’d rather let you drink with her and make sure you’re safe.
Then came your 18th birthday and the party you hosted at the house, you and your friends having fun around the pool and she thought that with all these people around you, you’d lose interest, but you never did. After everyone was gone, all you wanted was to cuddle up to her on the couch and watch your favourite movie with her. You always preferred her to anyone else, chose to stay home and try new recipes, rather than go out and she thought that perhaps this thing you felt for her was serious.
And once that knowledge settled inside her, it no longer bothered her. And with acceptance came something else. Something she never thought she had in her. A kind of curiosity of her own.
Obviously, she was flattered to know you had such feelings for her. You were a young, sweet thing, your life was just starting and she… How could she take advantage of you?
Then again, you didn’t make it easy for her. The way young girls did, you flirted boldly, openly and in gestures of sudden bravery. You flaunted yourself to her whenever you got the chance. Wearing skimpy bathing suits and even asking her to fix the strings for you, asking her to go shopping with you and dragging her into lingerie stores, showing her different sets and asking her opinion, wearing short dresses and tight shorts whenever she was around, which happened to be all the time… Asking her to watch scary movies with you in your room, cuddling into her in nothing but your panties and a t-shirt and then asking her to stay when you were too scared to stay alone.
Ugh, you were a tease. She’d feel you wiggle unnecessarily, so you’d “settle” and you’d blush furiously anytime she so much as looked at you. She’d wake up with your back pressed against her front, your ass pressed up against her as you slept happily, and every time you’d pull one of those stunts, she’d feel you chip away at her resolve.
You were so soft, so sweet, such a delicate thing, your skin smooth and flawless under her fingertips. Whenever you’d ask her to stay with you, falling asleep on her shoulder, she couldn’t help but stroke the exposed skin of your bare arms, the length of your thighs, just to feel you. It was a small action, was it not? Done out of curiosity. And it soothed her to be able to get this small thing for herself, since she had promised herself not to take you entirely.
Your last year of high school passed like that, with you parading yourself and eventually Wanda broke. She told herself she’d never make a move on you. It was wrong, but she needed an outlet for her frustration. That’s how she first spent a night thinking of you while she touched herself. Not that thoughts of you hadn’t crossed her mind before, but she always pushed them away. But when she no longer could, that one action broke the dam.
The images of you flooded her mind constantly and she found herself seeking relief in the privacy of her bedroom, imagining she had you to play with. She thought of all the gloriously depraved things she could do to you, the things she could teach you and all the ways she could corrupt you. It would be so sweet.
It got worse as your feelings progressed and she’d often wake to the sounds of your moans in the middle of the night. The first time such a thing happened she rushed to your room, thinking maybe you’re in pain, only to see you sprawled on your bed, legs spread wide and your hand moving furiously in your panties. You thought you were being quiet, that you were being subtle, but honestly, she could sometimes make out the way you called her name as you made yourself cum.
Now, looking in her drawer of toys and realizing what you’d done, she tried to let it go, but she just couldn’t. You went behind her back, sneaked into her bedroom, snooped through her things, used her toys and masturbated on her bed. As much as she was impressed by your boldness and surprised to find that your desire for her went that far, she was furious. You didn’t even have the decency to hide it well! Why didn’t you just wash the toy and put it back? Did you still have it? Ugh, she was angry!
She knew you probably didn’t mean for it to go this far, but she just couldn’t help it. How was she meant to stay away from you, to keep her resolve and refrain from marching down and fucking you senseless, when you did such things? She had to teach you a lesson.
Her fingers clenching over the edge of the drawer, knuckles turning white, Wanda was ready to slam it shut and storm down the stairs, when her eyes landed on a pink remote control. It was for the dildo you had used and she was surprised you hadn’t taken that too, before she realized you probably had no idea it had a vibrating function. Or maybe you hadn’t gotten that far. Who knows? Either way, an idea sparked into her head and she decided to test a theory and if she was right, tonight she’ll teach you a lesson and pay you back for every time you’d teased her, every time you paraded yourself in front of her, every time you tempted her and made her crave you.
In the back of her head, she knew what this decision meant. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself. If she went through with it, she’d go all the way. Closing her eyes and breathing in, she tried to think clearly, but she had reached the end of her restraint, the end of her self-control. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t want this anymore. She had to have you.
Taking the small remote control, she put it in the pocket of her sweats and she walked down the stairs. She found you prepping the vegetables, just as she asked, your cheeks still flushed, but you tried to act as normal as possible. With a smile, Wanda did the same, starting to make the dough for the homemade pasta and starting up a light conversation with you.
“So, honey, what did you do today?” She asked sweetly.
“Oh you know, just normal things…” You trailed off as your legs squeezed together.
“Yeah? Did you finish the new book I told you about?”
“No, not yet. But almost. I’m so excited to see what happens.” You tried to feign interest, but Wanda knew you. You hadn’t read a page. “What about you, did you have a nice day?”
“Nice isn’t how I’d describe it. But I’m glad to be home.” She responded shortly. “You know, sweetie, why don’t you get the sauce started and leave it on the stove, I’ll watch it while I make the dough and you can sit down. You still look a little flushed.” She suggested and you sighed with relief at her offer, doing as she asked, finishing as quickly as possible and making your way to a chair in the kitchen, sitting down and watching her cook, the way you have so many times before.
Except, as soon as you sat, you realized it was a mistake. The dildo, still nicely nestled inside you, was pressed against the surface of the chair and pushed as deeply as it could go, causing you to let out a small whimper at the feeling of being so full and even with her back to you, Wanda knew that her suspicion was right.
“What was that, dear?” She turned to look at you for a moment, your legs squeezing together so tightly your muscles shook.
“N-nothing…” You stuttered out, a hand gripping the edge of the table.
My, you were so responsive. You must have been close, if you were this worked up. How delightful. Wanda was going to have so much fun with you.
Unaware of how closely you were being watched, or of the wicked plan your stepmother had formulated for you, you started to gently rock on the chair, the movement bringing brief relief to the aching between your legs. But Wanda wasn’t going to let you just fuck yourself right in front of her. If anyone was going to fuck you tonight, it was going to be her.
Reaching into her pocket, she felt around for the buttons of the remote control and she turned it on and let it start at the lowest setting. Your reaction was instantaneous. You gasped, trying to do it quietly and softly, but she heard you none the less.
Feeling the dildo start to vibrate had you stiffen on the chair. God, did your slow grinding press the start button on the device? It was possible. Now you felt the gentle hum of the lowest setting and it drove you crazy. Perhaps with some concentration you could ignore feeling the toy inside you, but you couldn’t contain yourself like this. It was nestled at the deepest parts of you and vibrating against an especially sensitive spot and it had you shaking.
“Wanda, I think I’m going to lie down.” You suddenly said, swallowing hard and preparing yourself to stand.
“Oh, sweetheart!” She gasped when she turned to you. You looked a mess and it was absolutely breath-taking. She always wanted to see you like this. Now that she was so close, she wasn’t going to let you slip away so quickly. “What’s wrong? You seem even more flushed. And your forehead is so hot, baby, maybe you should lie down on the couch, so I can take care of you.” She suggested with concern. “I’ll bring you a cool cloth for your forehead and a glass of water.” She suggested, offering you her hand and guiding you to the couch.
“No, you don’t have to do that, I’ll just lie down upstairs for a bit.” You tried to protest, following her lead on instinct, despite your wish to escape to your room, but she was having none of it.
“But, sweetie, you can barely walk.” She argued, guiding you to the couch. “Look at that, you’re shaking. Lie down here for me, honey. I’ll take care of you.” She suggested, helping you lie down.
She went to grab you a glass of water, just as she promised and, on her way back, she watched you squirm and try to contain the sensations going through your body. When she made you drink at least some of the water, she left the glass on the table and she went to get you a cool cloth for your forehead, but not before sticking her hand in her pocket and increasing the speed of the vibrator.
A loud moan graced her ears just as she did it and she could hardly contain her smirk as she walked back to you.
“Now, honey, you stay here and rest and I’ll go check on dinner and I’ll be right back, ok?” She explained with a soft voice and she stroked your cheek affectionately, basking in the state you were in.
Your cheeks were burning with a mixture of arousal and shyness, your whole body squirming with need, even your hips bucking, when you thought Wanda wasn’t looking, loving the stimulation, yet needing so much more. Fuck, she could play with you like this for hours. If she had it her way, she’d strip you down first, of course, but there was plenty of time for that later. She’d watch you writhe and make you beg to be allowed to cum, push you to admit what you did and then tease you some more as punishment for it. And once you’ve surrendered, she’d make you cum over and over again, until you can’t take anymore. She’ll take your shaking little body upstairs and help you get cleaned up, so she can cuddle you to sleep. But she was getting ahead of herself.
She went to check on the pasta and the sauce you were making, stirring the pots and making sure that it wouldn’t get burned. She often looked at you at the corner of her eye, watching you writhe and, deciding to take pity on you, she clicked the off button on the remote control in her pocket, seeing you instantly settle in both relief and frustration. It was obvious you wanted more, that you needed that orgasm badly, but you didn’t want to get caught and Wanda smirked to herself. She’ll make you beg for an orgasm soon enough.
In the next minutes she let you rest, while she set up the table and finished dinner, not wanting to overwhelm you too much too early. She came over to you carefully, checking to see if you managed to put yourself together and you indeed looked much better. The frustration from the teasing and edging was obvious, but other than that you were holding up quite well and she smiled.
“Hey, honey, how are you feeling?” She asked softly. “Do you think you can come to the dinner table, so we can eat, or should I bring your food here?” She suggested, smiling.
“I’ll come to the table.” You agreed, removing the damp cloth from your forehead and taking her hands, so you could stand.
“Ok, baby, wash your hands and let’s eat.” She smiled softly at you.
Once you settled, poorly hiding a whimper when the dildo was once again pressed into your depths and against your most sensitive spots, you struggled to find topics for a conversation, but Wanda distracted you, telling you about her day and keeping your mind occupied while you ate. It was still hard to keep your urge to grind down on the toy sometimes, especially when Wanda would look at you with those pretty green eyes and swirl the wine in her glass, before sipping it. How could she be so sensual without even trying?
“Wanda, I think I’ll head upstairs. I feel tired.” You tried to excuse yourself after the meal was finished.
“Oh, really?” She said with disappointment in her voice. “You sure? I was thinking we could watch a movie together.” She suggests, pouting at you cutely and melting your heart.
“I don’t know…” You hesitated, wanting to stay, but feeling your walls contract around the dildo inside you and almost making your legs buckle.
“Maybe for a bit?” She offered with hope in her eyes. “You lie down and pick anything you want to watch and I’ll make us some popcorn. If you’re still not feeling well, I’ll help you upstairs.”
You tried to refuse her, you really did, but the truth was, that you could never say “no” to Wanda Maximoff. She was your greatest weakness and you knew you’d do anything she asks, no matter what, so you settled onto the couch, searching through the movie options and finding one that looked promising, while she brought over the big bowl of popcorn she made, sitting down next to you and pulling you into her side, just as she always did, kissing the top of your head affectionately.
You played the movie, trying to distract yourself and reminding yourself that all you had to do is get through the movie with her and then you’ll go to your room and have all the orgasms you wanted. It was just a couple of hours with Wanda.
But you’d barely gotten through the intro, when the vibrator came to life with a sudden buzz and you had to refrain from grinding against the couch at how good it felt. But that’s all the restraint you could show and you quickly realized Wanda was looking at you with concern.
“What’s the matter, sweetie? Is everything all right?”
You barely nodded, pretending to watch, when all you could do was do your best to stay still in Wanda’s hold. God, how did this thing turn on again? How do you stop it, before you have an orgasm, right there, sitting next to the woman you were desperately in love with? Worse! What if she hears the vibration? Could she hear it right now?
It was driving you crazy and holding back became increasingly difficult as time passed, your breathing going more erratic and just when you thought that it will happen, regardless if you wanted to or not, the vibrations suddenly stopped.
“Did you say something, honey?” Wanda turned to you once more, making you realize that you had whined pretty loudly.
“N-no.” You stutter out, shaking your head and she barely contains the smirk forming on her face, before it gives away just how much she’s enjoying this.
She gives you a break, letting you calm down, before she turns on the vibrator again, startling you and this time you look at her, trying to see if she actually noticed, but Wanda had her attention on the TV.
The damned thing was driving you crazy, but you couldn’t help a thought that crept into your mind. Why does it keep going on and off? Was it you? You were sitting pretty still… And then another, more shocking thought sparkled in your mind. Could Wanda? No, that was absurd. Even if she found out you took it, how would she know you still had it inside you? Would she do this on purpose?
As you turned to her, studying her expression, you couldn’t imagine Wanda doing such a thing. But you had to know for sure. So you waited for that moment when you got close, your body starting to lose some of its control and just as you were about to fall off the edge, the toy stopped, leaving you desperate and needy, extremely frustrated and utterly shocked. Did she just put her hand in her pocket? Did she have the remote there?
You had a million questions almost clouding your brain and you had no idea how to ask, no idea how to approach that subject, scared that if you were wrong, you’ll give yourself away, when Wanda suddenly turned to you.
“I see you finally figured it out.” She said in a low, raspy voice, smiling. She was almost predatory with the way she was looking at you, her soft green eyes now full of intensity. “Don’t you know that taking someone else’s things without permission is wrong?” She asked, raising a brow at you expectantly.
“I… Wanda… It’s not…” You tried to say something coherent, putting a little distance between your bodies, but you were in a state of shock and you couldn’t find the right words to explain.
“Not what it looks like?” She finished the sentence for you, scoffing. “I highly doubt that. Or are you going to deny that you snooped through my bedroom and took something that doesn’t belong to you?” She asked sternly, her eyes fixing you.
“I… ” You tried again, the words never coming out. “I didn’t mean to!” You tried, knowing it was a useless protest.
“Well, what did you mean to do, sweetness, hm? Come on, explain it for me.” She challenged again, raising a brow at you impatiently.
She gave you some time to collect whatever was left of your thoughts and she waited for you to say something coherent, but nothing actually came. There was no excuse, and you knew it well.
“Wanda… Please.” You said quietly, not even sure what you were asking of her, just knowing that you couldn’t stand the way she was looking at you, couldn’t stand how disappointed she was.
“Should I tell you what I think happened, hm?” She asked, her tone having that stern edge again. And before you could answer, she continued. “Or are you going to tell me yourself?” She asked again, holding up the remote control that was previously sitting in her pocket. “Do you need a little incentive?” She asked with a predatory grin, a slender finger hovering over the start button. “Maybe another edge or two would loosen your tongue?” She suggested, almost turning the device on.
“Oh my God, Wanda, please, no! Please! I can’t take anymore!” You begged pitifully and her heart melted a little, knowing you’ve probably never been edged. Even now you had your legs squeezed together, your eyes fixed on the remote she was holding.
To be fair, Wanda never intended to be cruel with you. She only wanted to be kind towards you, but you had pushed her buttons today and it had brought out a side of her she never wanted to show you. And you had never earned such treatment from her either, so she found it hard to contain her emotions, but she took a deep breath and tried to soften her features.
“Please, I’ll never do that again!” You pleaded.
“Oh, I know, sweetheart.” She said with surprising gentleness, stroking your cheek affectionately. “I’ll make sure of that. But you’ll have to tell me why you did it.” She explained.
“I can’t…” You tried to protest again, voice shaking. How could you explain that you’re in love with her?
“If you can do it, you should be able to talk about it.” Wanda coaxed.
“Please, let me just go upstairs and I’ll clean everything up and…”
“Oh, no, it’s too late for that now.” Wanda interrupted you, knowing where you were trying to go with that thought. “You don’t get to pretend that nothing happened.” She added with a thoughtful expression. “You see… I tried to pretend that I don’t see the way you act, or your little skimpy outfits, or the way you look at me. I tried to pretend that I don’t hear you calling my name at night, when you touch yourself… I tried to stay away and be a good stepmother, a good wife… And then you go and do something like this… Tell me, Y/N, what should I do with you now, hmm?”
Her words, the way she said them… The admission that she knew of your feelings sent you spiralling all over again and you didn’t even know where to begin. What were you meant to say? What did she intend to do? Was she going to tell your father? God, you hoped she wouldn’t. Not even because you were so afraid of him, but because you were so afraid of losing her. You never wanted to lose her.
“It would be so wrong of me to take you.” Wanda continues, talking more to herself now, her words taking a surprising turn. “So wrong… But you make it so hard for me to resist you.” She confessed. “You’ve been driving me crazy.” She said in a low voice, getting closer to where you stood, cupping your chin with her fingers, so she could make sure that you’ll look at her. “Do you know how hard it has been? Watching you offer yourself to me so shamelessly, listening to your moans at night, hearing you call my name and having to stay away from you…” Wanda’s gaze had darkened, making your pussy throb around the vibrator inside you and leaving you even more needy and helpless in her hold. God, you wanted her! “Do you know how many nights I almost didn’t? Do you know how many nights I had to cum to your filthy little sounds, imagining that it was me, making you feel that good?” She asked, searching your face.
You couldn’t believe the words that kept coming out of her mouth, couldn’t believe that she would ever want the same thing you did, that she would even give you the time of day… You wondered if she really meant it. Yet she kept speaking, her words making the ache between your legs almost unbearable and the need to grind against the vibrator nestled inside you harder and harder to resist. You were ready to combust. Fuck, you were ready to let her do absolutely anything and everything to you, just as long as she finally took you.
“Tell me something, honey…” Her words pulled you from your thoughts. “Do you want Mommy to make you feel good? Is that why you pulled this little stunt? Wanted to get my attention?” She asked, watching your eyes go wide at the mention of the title you used, the one you moaned out when you thought of her. “Oh, yes, I know what you like to call me.” She smirked. “It has a very nice ring to it, when you moan it out, touching yourself.”
You could only whine, too scared to admit how badly you needed her, how much you thought of her, how long you’ve waited for this moment, but Wanda didn’t rush. She held your gaze and she searched your eyes, filled with longing, as she let you think this through. If she was going to do this, she would do it right.
“Wanda… Please?” You uttered in almost despair, not knowing how to ask for what you wanted and not daring to hope that you would be lucky enough to get it.
“Please what, sweetheart? What do you want?” She asked softly, her thumb brushing your cheekbone as a way to soothe you. “You’ll have to use your words.” She coaxed, when she saw the way you took her hand, trying to guide it lower, to where you needed her most.
“Mommy…” You whined once more, trying to plead with her, hoping that it will affect her enough to finally make that final move.
Hearing your pleas, hearing that title pass your lips as you looked at her was easily pulling at her heart strings. It was also making her want to ruin you. She couldn’t deny that it did something to her and despite your poor behaviour today, she wanted to be good to you, wanted to care for you, to shower you with the love and affection you deserved, but she couldn’t make that move, not before you asked. She had no intention to be cruel to you, she just wanted to be sure, that you wanted to take that step with her.
“I know you’re feeling shy, dear, but this matters to me.” She said softly. “I need you to know what this means and I need to know that you want it. For that, you’ll have to use your words.” She clarified again, waiting for her words to sink in, but this time she didn’t have to wait long.
“You know I want this. For years I’ve wanted this, wanted you. And I never thought you’d ever see me, the way I see you, but Wanda, if you do… Please, don’t make me wait anymore. Please?”
As soon as she heard that, she leaned forward, capturing your chin with her fingers and looking deep in your eyes, letting the anticipation build between you, before she slowly connected your lips in a gentle kiss. It’s slow and soft, she moves tentatively, bringing her body closer, so she could let her tongue explore you as well, and she’s pleasantly surprised when your hands grip her top, pulling her on top of you.
Just this small contact had your heart fluttering with joy. You never thought this could be your reality. It felt so good to feel her weight against you. You had waited too long for this. You had spent so many endless nights thinking of just this. But Wanda was worth it. To be able to smell her, to taste her for yourself, you would do it all over again.
Her hands were just as gentle as they ran up and down your neck, or buried themselves in your hair and you couldn’t help but moan and whimper as you desperately tried to get more friction and more attention from her.
She was trying to take it slow, letting herself feel the culmination of her longing and just enjoy the way your lips felt, but it just wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel more of you, feel every part of you against her and explore every millimetre of your gorgeous body. This moment between you was long overdue and you both knew it.
Tentatively, she straddled one of your thighs, pressing her knee against your aching core, hoping to provide some much-needed relief to you both, but it only made you needier and more desperate for Wanda to finish what she started.
“Mommy, please.” You whispered softly, breaking the kiss to look up at her with longing and she instantly understood.
As much as you hoped to hold yourself together, as much as you wanted to prolong this moment, scared that if you opened your eyes, she’ll disappear, you couldn’t help the way your pussy throbbed. You had waited hours, teased and edged and filled to the brim with no relief and you couldn’t stand it a second longer. You needed to cum, or you were going to combust.
Wanda met your gaze, her head spinning from how lost she let herself get in your kisses, only to see you in a similar state. The love and adoration in your eyes, all that pent up longing and your pleas were irresistible. She had to indulge you. Then again, she also had to teach you a lesson and it felt right to use this toy. You had started all this by taking it after all.
With a devilish grin, Wanda reached into her pocket, feeling for the remote control and blindly pressing the start button. She felt the toy come to life with a sudden buzz, the vibrations dull against her knee, but from the way you gasped at the sensation, she could tell you were having a much more intense experience and she let it continue its work, while she took you in a deep kiss.
When it became too hard to keep up with her, your mind too distracted by the pleasure, she started to kiss her way down your body, kissing your neck and helping you grind against her, elated to hear the way you moaned and whimpered from every small touch. God, you were gorgeous.
“Look at you.” She admired you with a soft smile. “I’m about to make you fall apart, while fully dressed and without a single touch to your pussy.” She rasped, her hands massaging your breasts through the fabric of your dress and bra.
Her words made your cheeks burn and pulled another whine from you, yet you couldn’t deny how hot it was, or how badly you wanted it. In fact, they only made you grind against her more, trying to pull her in for another kiss, desperate to feel her against you.
She was right too. You were shaking beneath her, your movements turning more erratic, the closer to your edge you would get, and knowing that once you were there, you wouldn’t be able to stop it.
“Mommy, please I want to cum.’’ You pleaded softly. “Please, don’t stop it this time.”
“So pretty when you beg.” Wanda smirked. “You wanna cum, my darling?”
“Yes, want to cum so badly.”
“If you want to cum, you have to promise Mommy some things first.” Wanda explained, removing a strand of hair from your face. “First: You’ll never take Mommy’s toys again without permission.” She stated sternly. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mommy, I promise.” You nodded, body squirming under her intense gaze. God, you were close.
“Second: No more touching yourself. And no more cumming unless you have Mommy’s permission either.” She explained while she trailed soft kisses down your neck. “Understood?”
“Yes! Yes, I understand.” You almost screamed, your hips stuttering against her. “Fuck!”
“Good.’’ She smiled triumphantly. She could probably get you to agree to just about anything right now. “But most importantly, no one else is allowed to see you like this, to touch you like this, to feel you and fuck you and kiss you the way I can. You’re all mine, got it?” She almost growled in your ear, one of her hands tangling in your hair to make you look up at her.
“Yes! God, yes! I don’t want anyone else, Mommy, just you. Please! I just want to be yours. Please? Can I be yours? Can I please cum?” You spoke in a high-pitched tone, your desperation reaching new hights as you heard the possessiveness in her voice.
Wanda could tell you were seconds away from your orgasm and the smile that spread over her face when she reached into her pocket, stopping the vibrator, could only be described as evil. She found it amusing that you would think that she’d let you cum like this, with a toy you had taken from her, instead of getting to feel you for herself.
“Oh my God, no, no no…” You whined, tears prickling your eyes as the sting of denial hit you full force. It was horrible, being so close, yet unable to finish. If Wanda wasn’t right on top of you, you would have reached down, trying to finish it yourself. At the same time the pleasure that burned through you, unyielding and demanding was somehow sweet.
“How does that feel, my sweet girl?” Wanda asked with a calm, self-satisfied tone that had chills run down your spine. Something told you that she would love to do this to you again. “Frustrating, right?”
“Yes.” You whined, as your nails dug into her arms, as the orgasm you had built started to dull down and fade.
“That’s what it felt like, every time you teased me.” She explained with a growl. “That’s what it felt like, to find out you took something of mine without my permission.” She added, as she took down your panties, her eyes zeroing in on the pink vibrator nestled inside you. “I’ll do much worse, if you try something like that again.” She snarled, the threat clear in her voice.
“I wouldn’t Mommy, I promise.” You squirmed under her inquisitive eyes.
“Learned your lesson, huh, my darling?” She smirked, pulling out the dildo as well, discarding it on the floor carelessly, so she can admire your sweet pussy. You were so beautiful like this. Legs spread wide, slick folds on display and your desperate pussy twitching with need and excitement. You were perfect. “Then let me show you how good I can be to you.”
With a smile, she teased her fingers over your sensitive folds, playing with your clit and pulling small moans from you, before she eased her digits inside you. Your tight walls accepted her gladly, fluttering and pulsing around her happily and a string of moans filled her ears. She curled them experimentally, looking for your sweet spot and it didn’t take long to find it, your back arching off the couch in delight.
“Yeah, that’s your spot, isn’t it? Right there.” She emphasized her words, by pressing on it again.
“Yes, right there!” You sighed, back arching as the pleasure inside you started to grow again.
Wanda’s fingers were even better than the toy, stretching you deliciously, as they moved just the way you liked and you couldn’t believe that you had lived so long without getting to experience them.
Her hungry eyes were stuck on the view of her fingers moving in and out of you, your juices sticking to the palm of her hand, that she made sure to press against your clit at each stroke. It was obscene how much you reacted to her, how badly you needed her and you tried to pull her closer, so you’d hide in the crook of her neck, but she wouldn’t let you.
“No need to be embarrassed, darling. Mommy loves to see how good she makes you feel.” She husked, but gave in none the less, wanting to feel you close to her.
She peppered soft kisses on your cheeks and jaw, trailed them down your neck and against your ear as you moaned for her, clawing at her clothed back and it took everything in her not to stretch you out with a third finger. When your walls tightened around her, gripping her hard, she knew you were getting close again, your insatiable little pussy just begging her for more.
“Are you going to cum for me, baby?” She asked sweetly. “Are you going to make a mess all over my fingers?”
“God, yes!” You gasped, trying to pull her impossibly closer.
“Show me.” Wanda husked, claiming your lips in another kiss, nestling even closer to you, pulling your legs around her waist, so she could press against you snugly, almost folding you in half as her fingers worked your G-spot.
The position was surprisingly intimate, your body trapped under Wanda. It felt snug and safe, all your senses surrounded by her. You could smell her perfume, see the curtain of her soft, wavy hair falling around you, taste her as she kissed you, feel her deep inside you as you reached your edge with soft moans of pure pleasure.
When you finally fell over it, she helped you ride the waves of extasy, her fingers never stopping their movement. You were writhing under her, but she held you down effortlessly, until you gave her everything you had to offer and she pulled out of you with a contented grin.
“That’s my good girl.” She praised, lifting up her fingers to inspect them and slowly putting them in her mouth, so she could clean them up. “And so delicious too.” She added happily.
For a moment she contemplated letting you rest, but her own arousal was driving her crazy, the wetness in her panties a stark reminder of how badly she needed some relief. But it wasn’t just that. She hadn’t even properly undressed you yet, hadn’t had a chance to taste you from the source. She wanted to do so many things to you…
“Thank you.” You purred like a happy cat, stretching a little from underneath her.
“Such good manners.” Wanda mused. “Always such a good girl for me.” She smiled, noting the way you beamed proudly at her praise. “Think you can help Mommy undress you?” She asked, waiting for your happy nod of consent and your eager adjustment, so you can help her lift off your dress and discard it.
For a moment you felt a little insecure about yourself, despite the many times you had paraded yourself in front of Wanda, but she didn’t let you dwell on it for too long. She kissed you deeply, her lips never leaving yours, while her hands reached behind you and unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere behind her, while her hands explored you. Your skin was so soft to her touch, your body responding to every little caress and begging for more.
You were gorgeous in this state and she wanted to show you just how much she truly loved you, wanted to show you how deep her feelings really went, wanted you to know that this meant everything to her. You meant everything to her.
“Can I see you too, please?” You asked shyly, while she massaged your breasts, eyes fixed on them hungrily.
“Of course, darling.” She smiled knowingly, probably realizing how shy you must feel, being the only one naked. “Do you want to do it, or should I?”
“May I?” You practically beamed at her, sitting up in anticipation.
“Of course, sweetness.” Wanda smiled softly, stopping her movements, so she could give you some space.
Undressing Wanda was almost a spiritual experience. Each item of clothing you were able to remove revealed more of her beauty to your adoring gaze and she felt the swell of pride when she watched you take in every curve with admiration. It felt so good to be admired so openly and she allowed you to take your time, to kiss and caress her, as you shed her clothing.
When you unclasped her bra, freeing her breasts, you almost drooled at the sight of them. Perky nipples stood at attention, begging to be worshipped and you barely had time to ask if she’d let you, before you did just that. Capturing each breast in your palms, you swirled your tongue over her nipples, sucking on them gently and smiling when you pulled soft sighs of pleasure from the older woman.
As you finally reached her underwear, lacy, red panties fully capturing your attention, you couldn’t help but gasp, when you found her just as wet as you were.
“Do you like seeing that, honey? Do you like knowing you make me this wet? Do you like knowing that every night I heard you call out to me, I got just as wet, touching myself to the thought of making you mine? Does it excite you, knowing that you caused all this?”
“Yes, Mommy! I always wanted you just like that. Always wanted to know how you would feel, what you would taste like, if I could have you in my mouth.” You confessed, remembering each time you fantasized that Wanda would find you with your hand between your legs and give you exactly what you wanted.
“Well, now that you have me, have a taste.” She nodded happily, helping you take off her panties and spreading her legs, to give you a good view of her soaked folds.
Instead of answering, you just kneeled, slipping off the couch effortlessly and finding your place between her legs. With the sight of her soaked panties and the delicious smell of her reaching your nostrils, you could already feel your mouth water. There was something so erotic about having her above you like this.
Wanda looked as regal as a queen as she let you take her in in all her glory. Darkened, green eyes never looked away from you, as she left everything on display. And by all the gods, she was magnificent. Everything about her was pure perfection and you were happy to stay right there, on your knees, forever, worshipping and admiring her, if it wasn’t for the hand, that soon tangled itself in your hair, pulling you closer to her.
She leaned in, kissing you fully and only pulled away, when you both needed to breathe.
“Don’t make me wait too long.” She said as she leaned back against the couch, the hand in your hair pulling you forward and closer to where she wanted you.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” You smiled, moving forward on your own and taking a small experimental lick.
Her reaction was instantaneous, her fingers tightening their grip and pulling you all the way, until your mouth was flush against her. She sighed with satisfaction, her legs spreading wider, to give you more room to explore her and by God, she tasted so good. You wanted to devour her whole.
“Yeah, that’s better!” She sighed, her hips canting up against your mouth, as your tongue swirled over her clit. “Just like that, baby.”
Her praise was almost hypnotic, sparking something inside you, an urge to be better than all her other lovers, to show her that you’re worth all this, that you would earn the privilege to be hers. To show her that you would learn what made her feel good, what made her moan out in pleasure, what had her screaming and bucking her hips into your mouth. You’d learn it all and you’ll give it to her, just so she would call you her good girl again.
“Fuck, yes!” She cursed under her breath. “So fucking good with your mouth.”
Her hand in your hair kept you firmly against her, nails scratching at your scalp as Wanda guided you through what she wanted. And she wasn’t shy about it either. The closer she got, the more she used you for her pleasure, her legs planted on your shoulders as she rode you even more.
“Fingers, honey. Put your fingers inside me.” She spoke breathlessly, almost suffocating you with how much she pushed you into her pussy, when she felt you enter her. “Yes, just like that!” She praised. “Such a good girl. Gonna make Mommy cum so hard.”
The prospect of making her cum had your excitement reach new levels and you doubled your efforts, swirling your tongue around her clit in circles that seemed to drive her crazy. You could feel her walls pulse around your fingers, squeezing you and pulling you in, as far as you could go and you knew she wouldn’t last much longer.
Wanda reached her edge with a high-pitched moan, her thighs squeezing around your head and the hand in your hair tightening its hold on you almost painfully, just as she started to fall apart. The orgasm that built in the pit of her stomach spread like a tidal wave, coursing through her entire body as she shook against you.
She could feel your free hand gripping her thigh, trying to keep her steady as you helped her ride it all out. When she did, body slumping on the couch with a happy sigh, she hurried to pull you up and into her embrace. Getting to cum with your mouth and fingers felt so much better than the empty nights she spent with her toys and she knew she wouldn’t be able to give you up, even for a second.
When she was able to recover, she got up, helping you to your feet with a gentle hand.
“Let me take you upstairs, sweetheart.” She suggested. “I believe you had an interest in my collection?”
Her words were full of innuendo and you practically leaped, following her up the stairs and only stopping in front of her bedroom.
“Wanda?” You looked up at her, a little insecure.
“Yes, darling.” She paused, at hearing her name pass your lips, instead of the title you chose to give her.
“Is this…” You tried to ask, but couldn’t find the right words, biting your lips in anticipation. “Does it mean…”
“You mean everything to me, Y/N.” She said reassuringly, clearly understanding what you wanted to ask.
She had spent her whole life looking for love like yours. For someone, who would worship her the way you did. And now that she had it, she couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. Couldn’t imagine ever sharing you with another soul, or letting anyone ever touch you the way she did. As soon as she kissed you, she knew that she will commit to you for good.
“Do you mean it?” You looked at her with hopeful eyes. “Because I…”
“So do I, my darling.” She smiled softly at you, knowing that neither one of you was ready to admit it just yet.
The two of you stood there, in front of her door, for a few moments longer, just smiling at each-other, letting your eyes say the things you couldn’t form into words, before you couldn’t stand the tension any longer.
“May I kiss you again?” You asked a little shyly, fighting the urge to hide into her again.
Wanda’s smile only widened. She opened her door, the soft light from within illuminating the perfectly pristine space, as she pulled you closer to her.
“Come inside, sweetheart and you can do so much more than just kiss.”
______________________________________________________
I just might have to make a part 2 to this fic, because there is just so much left unsaid here... But at least I get to share the beginning with you guys! Let me know what you think!
If you liked this story and you want more, please visit the Masterlist with all my works. Happy reading!
Disclaimer: Image not mine. I'd happily give credit to the owner if I knew who they were :)
3K notes · View notes
natsgrave · 4 months
Text
GRAVES MASTERLIST
Tumblr media Tumblr media
from heartwarming tales that tug at your emotions to thrilling adventures that leave you on the edge of your seat, this masterlist offers a diverse range of stories to suit every reader's taste. whether you're a reader looking for your next favorite story or a writer seeking inspiration, this masterlist is designed to connect you with the vibrant storytelling.
Tumblr media
━━━━ ⧗ most work contain angst and fluff. ━━━━ ᗢ be polite or get blocked. ━━━━ ⧗ welcome gays, leave men. ━━━━ ᗢ dom!female!reader x sub!wandanat ( scarlizzie ) ━━━━ ⧗ english is not my first language, so excuse my poor grammar and poor writing style. ━━━━ ᗢ #natsgrave — my personal hashtag.
━━━━ ⧗ #grave fic reco's — fic reblogs.
━━━━ ᗢ #graves iq reco's — funny / wholesome quotes that i found.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
W. MAXIMOFF | E. OLSEN request open!
━━━━ ᗢ tolerate it | pt. 2 While you were out building other worlds, where was I? You assume I'm fine, but what would you do if I break free and leave us in ruins? ━━━━ ᗢ midnight rain She was sunshine, I was midnight rain. She wanted a bride, I was making my own name, chasing that fame. ━━━━ ᗢ new year's day I want your midnights, but I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's day. Please, don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere. ━━━━ ᗢ inside my palm She said; the whole world can fit inside my palm. ━━━━ ᗢ cake The role you made me play of the fool, how you laugh when you lie, I got a list of names and yours is in red underlined. Oh, look what you made me do. ━━━━ ᗢ scary witch The stars in your eyes shined brighter in tupelo, and if you're ever tired of being known for who you know, you know, you'll always know me. ━━━━ ᗢ flirting Baby, was it over then? Is it over now? ━━━━ ᗢ boobs There's nothin' like a mad woman, what a shame she went mad. No one likes a mad woman, you made her like that. ━━━━ ᗢ do you want my number? I'm captivated by you, baby, like a fireworks show. I see sparks fly, whenever you smile, get me with those green eyes, baby. ━━━━ ᗢ bus The old lady thinks that you and lizzie make a really good couple. ━━━━ ᗢ mommy  I loved you in secret. I could've spent forever with your hands in my pockets, picture of your face in an invisible locket. And darling, you had turned my bed into a sacred oasis. People started talking, putting us through our paces, I knew there was no one in the world who could take it. ━━━━ ᗢ cold And baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name. And baby, I'm so terrified of if you ever walk away. That's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend ━━━━ ᗢ use me' You're a mansion with a view, do the girls back home touch you like I do? ━━━━ ᗢ kids' And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches. Give you my wild, give you a child. Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other. ━━━━ ᗢ distant In a world of boys, she's a gentlewoman. ━━━━ ᗢ she's back Sometimes I wonder; when you sleep, are you ever dreaming of me? Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine, all the damn time. ━━━━ ᗢ soulmate What a shame, didn't want to be the one that got away. Taking down the pictures and the plans we made. Big mistake, you broke the sweetest promise that you never should have made.
━━━━ ᗢ her villain 'Cause all the boys and their expensive cars with their range rovers and their jaguars never took me quite way you do. ━━━━ ᗢ greatest what if Someday when you leave me, I bet these memories follow you around. ━━━━ ᗢ professor maximoff Why is she just so oblivious? ━━━━ ᗢ heart I knew it from the first old fashioned, we were cursed. Should've known I'd be the first to leave think about the place where you first met me.
━━━━ ᗢ you're losing me How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'? Do I throw out everything we built or keep it? And you know what they all say, you don't know what you got until it's gone. ━━━━ ᗢ after the fight | pt. 2 Echoes of your name inside my mind, hiding my obsession. I once was poison ivy, but now I'm your daisy. ━━━━ ᗢ last memory If I didn't know better, I'd think you were talking to me now. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were still around. What died didn't stay dead, you're alive, so alive, in my head. ━━━━ ᗢ shadows of the night Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby and I'm a monster on the hill. Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city pierced through the heart, but never killed. I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror, it must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero. ━━━━ ᗢ love A string that pulled me, out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar. Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire, chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons. One single thread of gold tied me to you. And isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? ━━━━ ᗢ birthday Your wish is my command. ━━━━ ᗢ wedding Sometimes giving up is the strong thing, sometimes to run is the brave thing, sometimes walking out is the one thing, that will find you the right thing. The snaps from the same little breaks in your soul, you know when it's time to go. ━━━━ ᗢ champagne problems I never was ready, so I watch you go. But you'll find the real thing instead, she'll patch up your tapestry that I shred. You won't remember all my champagne problems. ━━━━ ᗢ compliments she deserves it all.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
N. ROMANOFF | S. JOHANSSON
request closed! ━━━━ ⧗ pick up lines And that's how it works, that's how you got the girl.
━━━━ ⧗ high school sweetheart You wear the same jewels that I gave you as you bury me. I didn't have it in myself to go with grace and you're the hero flying around, saving face. And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? ━━━━ ⧗ coffee I've been spending the last eight months, thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end. But on a wednesday, in a cafe, I watched it begin again. ━━━━ ⧗ cold hearted You're so gorgeous, I can't say anything to your face, 'cause look at your face. And I'm so furious at you for making me feel this way. ━━━━ ⧗ it was you' Something's gone terribly wrong, you're all I wanted. Can't turn back now, I'm haunted. ━━━━ ⧗ the photographer and actress Big reputation, you and me, we'd be a big conversation. It's like your eyes are liquor, it's like your body is gold. You've been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks, so here's the truth from my red lips. ━━━━ ⧗ thank you Why'd you have to lead me on? Why'd you have to twist the knife? Walk away and leave me bleedin'. ━━━━ ⧗ the knight All I know is you held the door, you'll be mine and I'll be yours. All I know since yesterday is everything has changed. ━━━━ ⧗ my atlantis To kiss in cars and downtown bars was all we needed. You drew stars around my scars but now I'm bleedin'. I knew you tried to change the ending, peter losing wendy. ━━━━ ⧗ ex I used to say never say never, but we are never getting back together, like ever. ━━━━ ⧗ in the next lifetime But in those photos, I saw us instead and, somehow, I know that you and I would've found each other in another life. You still would've turned my head even if we'd met. You're always gonna be mine, we're gonna be timeless. ━━━━ ⧗ you have flour When you think of all the late nights, lame fights over the phone. Your past and mine are parallel lines, stars all aligned and they intertwined. ━━━━ ⧗ we both had our chance I persist and resist the temptation to ask you if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? ━━━━ ⧗ i miss you Now, I fear I have fallen from grace and I feel like my castle's crumbling down. ━━━━ ⧗ what's the answer? Spending the next few years of my life looking for answers from her. ━━━━ ⧗ short You think she's just being dramatic about it. ━━━━ ⧗ she doesn't love me anymore What the fuck? ━━━━ ⧗ this is your fault Kiss me, try to fix it, could you just try to listen? Hang up, give up, and for the life of us, we can't get back. ━━━━ ⧗ bad temper | pt. 2 | pt. 3 My words shoot to kill when I'm mad, I have a lot of regret about that. ━━━━ ⧗ teddy bear Seems like she don't hate Mr. cuddle that much. ━━━━ ⧗ you forgot your clothes I'm so chill, but you make me jealous, but I got your heart skippin'. You know I'm not a bad girl but I do bad things with you. ━━━━ ⧗ i'm falling again Oh oh, I'm falling inlove again. ━━━━ ⧗ gorgeous specimen I was enchanted to meet you. ━━━━ ⧗ too late words— how little they mean when you're a little too late. ━━━━ ⧗ how to seduce your wife | pt. 2 I would stay forever if you say, don't go. ━━━━ ⧗ threesome' All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting, 'cause I don't want you like a best friend. ━━━━ ⧗ i hate you Remembering her comes in flashbacks and echoes, tell myself it's time now gotta let go. But moving on from her is impossible, when I still see it all in my head, in burning red. ━━━━ ⧗ streamer' Don't worry, you're safe, the stream's off. ━━━━ ⧗ recreating memories I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you. I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you. I once believed love would be black and white but it's golden, like daylight. ━━━━ ⧗ ribbon Found my way back to her. ━━━━ ⧗ you went home early I know that I'm a handful, baby. But one of these things is not like the others, baby doll, when it comes to a lover I promise that you'll never find another like me. ━━━━ ⧗ eight years This is the last time I'm asking you why, you break my heart in the blink of an eye.
Tumblr media
If you have any suggestions or recommendations for additions to this masterlist, don't hesitate to reach out and let me know! divider made by @cafekitsune
© NATSGRAVE 2023 ━━ ⧗ ᗢ ━━ you don't have my permission to copy, edit, translate, and post my work on any other sites.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
157 notes · View notes
caffeinated-mess · 2 years
Text
Come Touch Me Too
Pairings: (WandaNat/Reader)
Summary: You’ve noticed that they turn into stumbling messes whenever you’re in the same room but have never approached the subject. That all changes when you hear your name being called during a night of passion between the two, and you decide that you’ve had enough.
WARNINGS: filthy smut with little plot, [strap-on use, hair pulling, overstimulation (wandanat receiving)], [degradation, spanking, bondage (nat receiving)], [praise kink, oral, vibrator use (wanda receiving)], slight belly bulge kink, Sir kink, slight dacryfilia, dirty talk, cursing
Word count: 7,200
A/N: Saying right now that this is masc!reader!! It can be any gender you want, but they are masc presenting! I got extremely carried away, might not be the greatest because I’m shit at proofreading. If anyone does want a part two that isn’t just pure filth then lmk because I already have a plan, I just need a reason to write it.
You’re not stupid. In fact, you like to consider yourself the opposite, and almost everyone on the team would agree. The self-proclaimed genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist would have no issue loudly voicing his objection to that claim, but you wouldn’t mind. It would be a losing battle to compete with Tony’s inflated ego.
Now, usually you would be flattered to know that not just one, but two stunningly beautiful women are interested in you. The issue lies in the fact that neither had the ability to hold even the slightest decent conversation when around you. You’ll enter a room and all of a sudden, laughter and easy chatting transforms into wide-eyed gaping and stuttering.
Yesterday, you decided that you’ve finally had enough of their gawking. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to flirt with enough confidence that an entire compound of emotionally-stunted people could feel it oozing out from you, but you were never the greatest at decisions. All it resulted in was two extremely flustered superheroes and some of the loudest, breathiest pronunciations of your name that you’ve ever heard coming from the room two doors over from yours. You honestly have no idea how two women as vocally submissive as them manages to top the other in the bedroom, but the images that unwillingly floated into your mind were enough to keep you awake late into the night.
Usually, you’re able to block your mind from Wanda with just the smallest amount of effort on your part. Today, you make no such attempt. The second Wanda enters the room with her assassin girlfriend, you strip all the natural barriers of your mind and think solely of the moans you heard loud and clear the previous night. It’s the most amusing sight you’ve ever seen in your life. You watch with great amusement as Wanda’s entire face turns a vibrant hue of scarlet red. You maintain eye contact with her even as she looks away and stumbles, but you guard any emotions from showing through your facial expression. It’s a perfectly constructed blank facade you spent years perfecting.
Wanda grabs onto Natasha’s arm and shakes it frantically. The older woman startles and almost drops the clipboard she was reading off of. You can tell a reprimand raises in her throat, but right as she opens her mouth, Wanda’s eyes glow red. The exchange lasts only a brief few seconds, then two pairs of eyes swivel towards yours and you switch your gaze between both.
You put the barrier in your mind back up, probably much to the relief of the witch. You decide to let them fumble for an explanation for just a little longer before interfering.
“I was hoping that at least one of you would’ve made the first move before I had to hear my name being called during sex,” you state truthfully. “You’ve been eye-fucking me for a decent amount of time now, and I gave the both of you plenty opportunities to do something.”
They nod as if they were children getting scolded for stealing a cookie, heads bowed and eyes lowered to the ground. Fucking hell, how do these two manage to get each other off? You’ve never understood the whole top versus bottom debacle, but if someone were to say that either one of these women was a top, you would scoff in their face. Maybe it will even be enough to make you laugh.
Regardless, they kept you awake for hours last night, and judging by their tousled hair and clothes, they went another round this morning. At the very least, there were breathy gasps and wandering hands. If they like to moan your name, you could at least give them a good reason to do so.
“How desperate are the two of you for me to touch you?” You ask, stalking towards them.
Wanda shifts awkwardly on her feet and fidgets with the bottom hem of her shirt. It’s an oversized, well-worn T-shirt of The Strokes that you picked up for her after a mission a couple years prior. You’ll never admit how much it affects you when she wears it, especially when it’s accompanied with only a short pair of pyjama bottoms.
Now standing less than a meter away from the slightly taller, but shyer woman, you lift her face up to meet yours by grasping her jaw with your fingers.
“I believe I asked you a question, love. I thought it was clear that I expected an answer,” you say, and perhaps it comes off a bit more demeaning than you meant.
“Yes! I dream about you touching me, I dream about you using your mouth on me and marking me like I’m yours.” She yelps, a plump bottom lip being drawn in between her teeth. You can’t resist moving your thumb to the bitten flesh, swiping the digit across in a smooth motion and watching as her jaw loosens under your touch.
“Good, and I’ll do exactly that if you continue to behave so nicely.”
It’s movement that you catch from your peripheral vision that makes you focus your attention on the redhead standing next to her girlfriend. You raise an eyebrow at her, communicating that Wanda’s not the only person you’re waiting on an answer for, and she briefly flushes under your gaze. Then you watch as she mentally triggers a switch to turn herself into the seductive but deadly ex-assassin you know she was raised to be. She glances at you from under hooded eyelids, and puts a swing into her hips as she steps closer to your body. You shoot her a disapproving glare and she falters, but doesn’t halt. You’ll have to change that.
“And what exactly are you trying to do right now, princess?” You ask the Russian and drop your hand from Wanda’s face who whimpers from the loss. “Shh, sweet girl, your girlfriend wants to be a brat. She’ll have to hear the pretty cries you make as I make you feel good over and over again. She’ll have to watch as you squirm and arch for me. I’ll use you so perfectly, baby, don’t worry.”
Wanda pushes into you, and you navigate her body so her chest presses against your front. You drop your head to place open-mouthed kisses against the pale flesh of her neck. The Sokovian’s head tilts to grant you more access and she jolts when you graze the fragile skin with your teeth. All the while, you maintain unwavering eye contact with the Russian. Your eyes dart down as she rubs her thighs together, causing you to pull away and tut with disappointment. You grab Wanda firmly by the back of her upper legs and hoist her up. She wraps her lower limbs around your hips without you even needing to tell her to do so, which is a pleasant surprise.
“Follow, Natalia,” it’s a demand that she obediently follows.
You walk back to your room, Wanda in your arms and Natasha right on your heels. You have direct reach to the witch’s neck, and you can’t resist the temptation to taste it with your lips once again. She squirms in your arms and her hips buck into you when you latch onto her neck with the intention of leaving a mark. Her breathy gasps make the oxygen stutter in your lungs.
Finally, you slam open the door to your room and give Natasha just enough time to step in before you throw it shut.
“Everything off except underwear, princess. Now go sit in that chair over there and look pretty,” you pull away from Wanda to direct the words towards the shorter woman.
“But-“ she starts before you interrupt.
“Quiet.”
Her mouth snaps shut and you shoot her a small smile of approval. She shyly returns a smaller grin and begins to strip. You set Wanda down on the side of your bed and let her watch as the Russian rids herself of her clothes. You part the witch’s thighs before she has the chance to rub them together for friction. You rub the fabric of her The Strokes T-shirt between your fingers as she was doing earlier. Then you grasp at the bottom and whisper for her to take it off. She does so without a millisecond of hesitation.
“Such an obedient girl,” you praise as you push the Sokovian down to lie on her back.
Auburn coloured tresses splay around her head as rays of sun emit around the burning star. You direct your hand south of her torso, tracing down the middle of her breasts. You splay your fingers out on her stomach and continue down the waistband of her pyjamas bottoms. Wanda wears a silky set of black panties underneath, her back arching and fists grasping at the sheets when you brush against a damp spot.
“Oh fuck… please! I need you to touch me,” the woman underneath you gasps. “Please…”
Your pupils dilate. Oh, how you love it when she begs for you. You rip the fabric of her sleep shorts and tear it off of her lithe body. You’ll buy her a new pair later. For now though…
A stifled moan comes from someone that’s not Wanda, and you swivel your head to meet Natasha’s lidded eyes. Laced, red underwear has been pushed aside by a pale, scarred hand that currently resides in between muscular thighs. Your gaze hardens and you retreat your hand from Wanda’s dripping center. The Sokovian glances up at you with frantic eyes.
“I’m sorry, love. You’re perfect but your girlfriend seems to think it’s okay to touch herself without permission,” you say against her lips.
Wanda’s signature head tilt she does when angry should be illegal. The glare that she sends towards Natasha makes you screw your eyes shut in order to control the sudden thrill that shoots down your stomach. You give Wanda a bruising kiss that leaves the half-naked woman panting for air on your bed. You strut towards the other redhead with a dangerous glint in your eyes.
“Natalia,” you find it fascinating how much power a name can hold because as soon as you utter it, she seems to realise how deep the hole she dug herself in truly is. “At what point did I say you could pleasure yourself?”
She stammers for a response. “I couldn’t help it! I just had to!”
You thread your fingers through her hair and gently scratch at her scalp. She glows from under the attention. The calm before the storm. Not even a second later you grasp the strands and pull. Natasha gasps. She practically jumps out of the seat with how fast she rises to her feet.
“Lie next to Wanda,” you hiss into her ear, then speak loud enough for the witch to hear your next sentence. “See how pretty she looks over there? Look at all those bruising marks on her neck from where I put my mouth. Wanda’s going to be fucked so good that she’ll forget who she is, and she’ll come to realise that there’s more pretty marks all between her thighs.”
Natasha whimpers when you let go of her hair, and you walk towards your closet hoping that the Russian will obey your directions when you return.
You only catch a few words as you retrieve some toys. “No, Natty! If you kiss me-” which is then cut off by “c’mon baby, they won’t know.” That sly spy. You shake your head fondly.
You make your way back, steps light and silent. Natasha straddles her girlfriend and leans down to kiss the Sokovian in a way far from innocent. You clear your throat right before their lips touch, and Natasha startles enough to jump off of Wanda and land in the middle of your bed.
They both fail to formulate an explanation, both faces flushing with pink.
“Aww, poor Natty,” you mock. “Too fucking needy to last a mere minute.”
You walk over, and Natasha sits up with her ass resting on her heels, hands trapped between her folded knees. She looks up at you with large doe eyes, the picture of innocence if it weren’t for the off the shoulder bra strap and damp patch between her legs.
“How do you feel about getting tied up, brat?” Despite the name, your eyes and tone are soft, the last thing you want is to make her uncomfortable.
Her thighs rub together and she nods shyly.
“I need you to use your words, baby,” you remind her as you push down on her chest to lie her flat on the mattress.
“Please tie me up, I want to try. I promise I’ll be good from now on,” her words are uncharacteristically shy and sincere. You don’t know if you could trust it.
You instruct Wanda to straddle Natasha as you go about tying the Russian up. The knots are far from being tight or complex, you and her both know she could pull out of them if she really wanted to. When you finish securing Natasha’s wrists above her head, you permit the witch and ex-assassin explore the other’s mouth. You quietly instruct the younger woman to grind on her girlfriend’s muscled stomach as you spread the Russian’s legs apart and tie them to the bedpost.
After completing your task, you lift Wanda off of Natasha by grabbing her chin and reward her with a fiery kiss. Pulling away and glancing down, you notice the shiny trail of slick on the bound girl’s abs. The sight makes you inhale sharply, and you’re overcome with the urge to taste it directly from the source. You push Wanda by the shoulders and she lands, wide-eyed, to the side of Natasha. You climb on top of the witch and pull your shirt off then begin to trail kisses down her sweaty abdomen. Occasionally, you’ll suck at the skin until it turns a reddish-purple or scrape your teeth against the flesh. You bite harder when you reach her inner thighs, reaching a hand up to rub circles on her covered clit.
Her muscles spasm, back arching, mouth opening to let out a pathetic whine. “Oh fuck,” Wanda gasps out. “It feels so good, please don’t stop, Sir! Fuck, please more!”
You truly didn’t mean to rip her pretty panties off, but your self control surpassed its limit. You’ve never been called a title in the bedroom before; you enjoy it a bit more than you thought you would’ve. The woman beneath you is soaked, and a gush of wetness spills out when you split her folds with your fingers. Leaning down, you lick a long stripe up her center and take her clit into your mouth. The taste makes your eyes roll into the back of your head as you groan in appreciation.
Wanda almost screams from the vibration, and her hips buck into your face when you slide two fingers in her sopping hole. She sees stars when you use your tongue to flick rapidly at the small bean, then loses all sense of self as you begin to thrust inside of her. The Sokovian’s inner walls clench around your fingers greedily, but you’re able to add another digit with minimal resistance. The noises she makes drive you insane from pleasure, and you detach your mouth from her clit after scraping your teeth against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You immediately launch up to lock her lips with yours and the pants she lets into your mouth make you reach down to fumble with the button on your trousers. Black painted nails latch onto your back and leave trails of burning fire as they scrape down.
You slip your fingers out of her but just as she’s about to complain, she gets filled up and deliciously stretched. Pinpricks of blood spill from your skin underneath her fingernails. Her back arches and her head digs into the pillow beneath her neck. Pale thighs snap against your waist and she lets out a sinful, pornographic moan. Her body stills, then her muscles seize, then she stills again. You plant messy kisses against her throat as Wanda shudders from aftershocks.
“Can you give me another one, pretty girl?” You ask against the sweaty skin of her neck. “I know you can, you did so good the first time. I just want to hear more of your pretty moans.”
You’ve already started to thrust your hips. Wanda whimpers from the sensitivity, but they soon turn into stuttering gasps and breathy swears. You fuck her harder, the bed rattling against the wall, but you aren’t satisfied yet. She whines and pleads when she’s suddenly empty, but you quiet her by flipping her onto her stomach.
“Hands and knees, baby,” you demand, brushing her auburn hair over one of her shoulders.
Wanda scrambles into position and sways her ass teasingly. You swat at it, hard enough that a red mark is left where your hand made contact. The Sokovian falls to her elbows, and your sharp eyes catch the drop of sticky liquid that falls from her center. The bedsheets shift, and your attention is drawn to Natasha, pulling desperately against her bonds and staring at you with blown pupils.
You maintain eye contact with the Russian as you reach to rub at Wanda’s swollen bud. You then thrust inside her, harsh and without warning. It makes the younger woman’s elbows fail, her face smashing into the pillow with a loud moan. It’s harder to find the woman’s g-spot without the flexibility of your fingers, but you have a basic idea of where hers is. You adjust the position of your hips each time until you hear a groan louder than the rest, and you continually aim for that spot of pleasure.
“You- Oh~!” the Sokovian cuts herself off when a particularly harsh shudder overcomes her frame, then whines. “You fuck me so good, Sir!”
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep, baby,” you tell her. It’s a strict rule that you’ve followed religiously since you were fourteen, only breaking it when on missions to trick a target.
Your palm becomes increasingly slicker as you move your digits in tightening circles on Wanda’s clit. Your wrist aches a bit, but it’s easy enough to ignore when the woman below you is so vocal in expressing her euphoria. Plus, you get an elevated amount of amusement by watching Natasha flail around with blown pupils next to you. Her thighs desperately attempt to create friction, but you were careful in making sure they wouldn’t be able to touch while tying her knots.
A highly pitched moan brings your attention back to the younger woman, her back muscles contracting in random, short bursts as her legs try to snap shut. Wanda squeals before her orgasm, and a gush of liquid spills onto your slowing hand. She twitches once, twice, then rolls onto her back with a blissed out expression on her face.
“Aw, good job, baby!” You praise, and Wanda’s lips twitch into a dopey smile. “I’m just going to clean you up real quick, then I could decide what to do with your bratty girlfriend.”
The witch jolts when your tongue swipes between her drenched folds, dainty hands pushing weakly against your head. You whisper reassuring words to her as you clean her inner thighs with your tongue. You lightly suck on her clit, and she whimpers from the overstimulation. It just takes a few more seconds spent alternating between flicking at the bud with your tongue to wrapping your mouth around it for the witch to come again with a whine.
Deciding that you likely exhausted Wanda enough for today, you sped to retrieve a warm, soaked cloth to wipe her down. The fabric brushing against her clit makes her shudder, so you distract her with a soft kiss, her taste still lingering on your tongue. The little whines she lets out into your mouth make you eager to play with Natasha, knowing with wavering certainty that Wanda was tired out for the night.
“It’s going to be Natty’s turn now, is that okay, love?” You didn’t ask as quietly as you would’ve liked. You intended the question to be for Wanda’s ears only, but you were out of breath from kissing her, and your volume control was temporarily flawed.
“Yes, Sir,” she responds breathily.
“You’re so well-behaved, darling,” you say appraisingly. “Your girlfriend should follow your example.”
Natasha scoffs. You turn to her with a sharp glare and an even sharper faux grin.
“Have something to say, princess?” You taunt. “I would think carefully before opening that mouth of yours. Your words determine whether or not you get laid tonight.”
Two pairs of eyes settle on you, one tinged with amusement and the other with annoyance. Despite the latter’s irritation, you can recognise the signs of underlying acceptance when you see them. Natasha could have broken out of her bonds a long time ago if she truly pleased, she just likes to be put in her place.
“Since you listened just now, I’ll let you choose,” you drawl, pecking the Russian’s lips quickly as a reward. “I could edge you over and over until you’re desperate enough to do anything if it means you could cum; or I could spank that pretty ass of yours until there’s not a millimetre left untouched by my hand.”
Natasha begins to say something, pauses, then appears deep in thought for several seconds before attempting to speak again. “The second one, Sir,” her voice uncharacteristically meek.
Your answering grin is sharp, and the glint in your eyes reminds her of when you first met. Back when you were famous for the extremely sadistic behaviour you displayed inside interrogation rooms. You had a hundred percent success record when it came to extracting information and escaping sticky situations. Natasha would rather die than admit it, but the nights she spent after even the briefest interactions with you were the nights when she would beg for Wanda to fuck her as hard as she could.
Of course, you already know this. Her emotions would be in a lustful frenzy underneath her marble facade by the end of every meeting the two of you had. Even if it was just catching her eye while the avengers attempted to recruit you time after time, you would sense her hormones spiking.
But now is no time to dwell on the past, you have a pretty girl tied up to your bedpost who you need to punish. You start by pulling the weak point of the knot holding her hands together, causing the whole thing to unravel instantaneously. Then you move to her ankles, untying them as well. Crawling up between her parted legs, you leave open mouthed kisses to her thighs until you reach those damned red panties. The material is thin enough for Natasha’s body to spasm as you place your mouth over the fabric and tease the area with your tongue. The lacy pattern scrapes at your tastebuds, and you can detect a hint of a salty, sticky liquid lingering underneath.
“Oh,” Natasha gasps. “Fuck!”
Wanda glances over to her girlfriend from the noise, then looks towards you. You lower your mental shield.
“Straddle her waist, baby,” you telepathically instruct, and the Sokovian scrambles to oblige. “Give her something to do with that mouth of hers.”
Their mouths slot together and for a second, you can’t look away. It’s messy, Wanda’s hips jerk and stutter on Natasha’s pelvis, and the latter’s hands fly to grip on the younger woman’s hips. Scarred legs begin to close, an action that is unacceptable.
You dig your fingers into the pale skin and roughly pull the muscled limbs apart. You use your knees to hold Natasha’s apart and you kneel forward to grab Wanda’s hair. She follows your hand surprisingly quick as you tug her towards you, considering she was busying her girlfriend’s mouth with her own.
“You can do whatever you want, love,” you coo into her ear. “But don’t muffle Natalia’s mouth; I want to hear all of her pretty noises as we make her feel good.”
Wanda smirks, half mischievous, the other half libidinous. She goes to work on marking Natasha’s neck with pretty, purple love bites. You reach down to rub at the damp pair of panties that you played with earlier. Natasha moans.
You’ve already ripped one pair of underwear today, and as much as you don’t regret it, you do feel slightly bad. Especially considering how excellent Wanda looked in them. Instead, you pull the set down gently and marvel at the slick that follows before breaking off in strands. Then you gently nudge at Wanda, who a tad begrudgingly, moves off of the Russian’s waist.
“Over my knee, princess,” you demand, shifting to sit at the edge of the mattress.
As Natasha follows your instructions, you reach to pull the sports bra off of her chest. The only time you’ve seen her wear clipped ones is on uncover missions, otherwise, she prefers to wear exercisable material. If you’re being honest, you have no complaints.
The redhead’s toned stomach weighs on your thighs and you trace the indent of her spine before settling on her ass.
“What number do you think you deserve, baby?” You ask, and Natasha whimpers then squirms. “Tell me the truth or you’ll get more, you hear?”
Natasha nods.
You force her chin up until she has to arch her back and look up at you through her eyelashes. “Use your fucking words, I thought I made that clear earlier.”
“Yes! Sorry, Sir!” Her breathless voice makes your knees go weak. “Twenty, Sir. Please.”
“That’s my good fucking girl.”
There’s two different pitches of whining from different locations. One from Wanda, the other from the woman over your knee.
“I’m going to start now,” you state. “And if I don’t hear you counting, we start over. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
You smile, she’s finally learning. Your hand strikes down. Firm. Unyielding. Natasha whines and jerks in place but counts.
“One, thank you, Sir.”
Wanda shifts next to you and you glance over.
“It’s okay, pretty girl,” you mutter reassuringly. “You can touch yourself while I’m busy with Natasha.”
Wanda beams with excitement and lowers herself onto the pillows, legs spread and nimble fingers reaching between them to rub frantically. Your palm cuts through the air again.
“Two,” a stuttering murmur of appreciation. “Fuck.”
Something drips onto your leg. Warm and sticky. You glance down.
“What a slut,” you chuckle. “Barely touched you and you’re already dripping for me. What a mess.”
Wanda gasps from behind you. You strike down again.
You move to the other side of her ass at count eleven. There’s not an inch left of pale skin that’s not a flushed shade of red by strike seventeen. The sheets behind you shift as you’re about to inflict number eighteen, but a warm presence against your neck makes you falter. You recover as quick as you can after the initial surprise, moving your non-dominant hand off of Natasha’s lower back and towards your shoulder. Tousled, slightly wavy, auburn hair tangles in between your fingers. A quick glance downward is all you need to deliver the last two strikes in rapid succession, creating a loud cry and another wave of liquid to gush onto your thigh. Then you crane your neck and meet Wanda’s lips in a fiery kiss.
“You behave like an angel-“ you breathe as you refill your lungs with air. “but, you’re a greedy little slut deep down. Just like Natalia here. Am I right?”
“Yes! But you fuck me so good, I can’t help it,” Wanda whines, pupils blown as if she’s high.
Natasha huffs, drawing your attention back to her. She’s muttering something that you can’t decipher, but you can make out the pout pulling on her pretty, plump lips.
“Speak up, baby,” you’re a bit concerned that you hit her too hard, or too many times despite there being no indication thus far.
“I said that she already got to cum three times! It’s my turn, I met you first!” She’s visibly frustrated and clearly aroused despite the tear-stains on her flushed cheeks. Lucky for you, you’ve always been able to read her even without feeling her emotions. There’s lingering insecurity, the unspoken question asking, ‘Do you still want me? Am I too difficult for you?’
Perhaps you really have gone soft, because you don’t waste another second in drawing out the inevitable. You lift the Russian off your legs and lay her on the bed, her naked back meeting the cooled cotton. You wish you could taste the sweat beading on her breasts with your lips, but you know she needs a different type of reassurance. A softer one. Your lips meet, there’s no teeth clashing or feverish motions, just the two of you kissing.
Despite the gentleness, you pull away breathlessly and full of even more emotion than before. You slide your hand down her chest, lightly playing with her breasts as you kiss her again. Her quiet moans of satisfaction and pleasure make the corner of your lips twitch upwards. Your hand trails down again, briefly feeling the muscles in her stomach spasm under your touch. You press your bare torso against her skin the moment your fingers reach her clit. Sliding the digits in between her folds leave your fingers and palm soaked, and you use the natural lubricant to slide two fingers in while rubbing at her clit with your thumb. Her ribs knock against yours as her spine arches towards the feeling.
“I’m going to stretch you out a bit before I fill up your sloppy pussy, okay princess?”
You get a gasp and a breathless “Yes, Sir.” as a response to your question.
“Wanda, baby,” you say. “Be a darling and grab me a new condom from my drawer.”
The auburn-haired beauty does so lazily, her slender fingers removing themselves from between her legs to pull open your nightstand and fish blindly for a rubber. Meanwhile, you latch your teeth onto Natasha’s neck as you maintain a steady rhythm of thrusting into her. Her head tilts to give you more access, as if you are a vampire and she is your meal.
“Sir,” she pants and trimmed nails indent crescents into your back. “More, please.”
You haven’t given her permission to touch you, much less mark you, but you figure that she’s been punished enough. Perhaps your mercy is also influenced by how mesmerising the woman looks underneath you, ribs expanding sporadically as you’re knuckles deep in her pussy.
Her inside walls flutter from the introduction of a third digit. Natasha’s moans increase in volume and her fingernails begin to break the skin of your back. Fuck, she feels good. Her wetness only continues to drip down onto your palm, which is surely coated in slick by now. You start to put more effort into finding her g-spot, and you can tell she nearly climaxes when you do.
And as much as you believe you tortured this poor woman enough, you have already been lenient with the ‘no touching’ rule and really can’t have her getting any more ideas. You pull your hand away from her as a result and meet her wide eyes with a glare.
“Look, princess,” you sigh with exasperation. “You’ve known me for years, you’ve heard all the people I’ve had over for the night. Have you heard their moans and screams of pleasure? Because if so, you should be aware that you can’t cum until I tell you to.”
Natasha whines as Wanda giggles.
“Natty and I hated listening to you touching people that weren’t us, but we would get so wet and sticky from it. And she would just beg me to fill her up,” Wanda chuckles, sliding up next to you and slipping one of her own fingers into her girlfriend. “She’s a huge fucking size queen.”
You tilt your head with a smirk on your face. You decide that you’ll punish Natasha for her disobedience another time, but Wanda is testing your patience and her luck as well.
“Little witch,” you murmur, Wanda’s ears strain to listen to your quiet instructions. “Do you want to face the consequences of not only speaking, but also touching without asking me?”
A strand of auburn hair falls into the Sokovian’s face from the frantic shake of her head. She whispers, “No, Sir.”
“That’s what I thought, love. So what you are going to do is walk to my closet, where you saw me going earlier, and open a little box on the left. Pick out a size that you think Natalia here will… enjoy.”
“Yes, Sir,” she says, a feeling of relief replacing the prior worry.
“And Wanda, love,” you speak, and your tone must change because the Sokovian pauses to face you and bows her head until her chin touches her chest. “Do not snoop around, I know how curious you can be.”
And after nodding to signify her understanding, Wanda scurries off on wobbling legs.
You distract Natasha by abruptly slamming four fingers in her and her back arches with a loud moan.
“Fuck! Oh, fuck!” The redhead groans. “Deeper, please, Sir!”
You swallow her noises by placing your lips over hers and pumping into her as fast as you can while stimulating her clit. She tenses up right as Wanda re-enters the room holding one of your larger toys in her hand, and you snatch your hand away like lightening. Tears of frustration escape from the corners of the Russian’s eyes and trail down her cheeks. You shush her gently.
“It’s okay, I promise it will all be worth it,” you swear. “Good job, Wanda. Come here now, baby.”
The younger woman does as you say, settling near you on the edge of the mattress. She hands you the toy she selected and you grab a remote-controlled vibrator egg toy you selected from earlier. You push her to lie on the pillows and spread her legs. She’s already soaked from her earlier orgasms, so all you have to do is slip the toy in and press it against her g-spot. You whisper that she could touch herself as long as she behaves, and she kisses you in thanks. Then you press a button on a small, similar looking remote and Wanda squirms with a pleased whimper.
You attach the large phallus to a harness resting on your hips and twist to Natasha with a pleased grin. She can’t seem to pull her gaze away so you help her by grabbing her chin to adjust her stare. Her legs quiver and try to shut. You crawl up her body, biting at the inside of her thighs first to leave a few marks, then leaving just a couple on her breasts.
“Put your legs up around my waist, princess,” you say against her neck. “I want to fuck you nice and deep. When you go to sit down tomorrow, I want your cunt to throb so you will remember who it belongs to.”
Muscled legs littered in pale scars weakly wrap below your ribs and you enter Natasha’s sloppy hole slowly. Her head pushes into the pillow as she groans, and her nails dig into new areas of your back. You plan to give her several seconds to adjust, but her hips impatiently stutter towards you. Regardless, you push in slowly until you bottom out and begin slow thrusts. Your eyes get distracted by movements in her tummy, and realising that the bulge is caused by the movements of your hips makes you speed up. You place a hand on her stomach and grin as you feel yourself move inside of her.
“Look, princess,” you taunt, putting the slightest amount of pressure on her abdomen. “Look at how deep I am in your guts. Does it feel good getting all stretched out and filled like this?”
Natasha whines, transfixed by the sight of her tummy and her walls clench around you.
“I’m so close,” she breathes. “Please, I’m so close.”
You chuckle darkly and move a hand to grab her throat. “Go ahead, Natalia. Just know that I’m won’t be stopping any time soon.”
She nods dumbly, her brain not truly comprehending the seriousness of your words. But then you squeeze the sides of her throat just enough for her to feel light-headed, and her entire body jolts. Short fingernails draw pinpricks of blood from your back and pull downwards, leaving angry red stripes on your skin. Tears leak out from the corners of her eyes. Her thighs squeeze your waist as if they forgot there was a barrier keeping them apart, and her back muscles stiffen. She reaches her high with a glorious cry of your name, a sound that will be forever engraved in your memory.
You pull out of her until just the tip of the toy is holding open her hole, and you watch in amazement as a clear liquid spills out of her. You rub frantically at her clit, and although she jerks from the sensitivity, only more wetness gushes from her stretched hole. You didn’t know it was possible, but the sight is the goddamn cherry on top, and you grab at Natasha’s hips as an orgasm of your own hits. Your eyelids flutter as a grunt escapes your lips, and you temporarily loose control of your abilities, projecting your feeling of ecstasy towards the two women in the room. Wanda cries out, your lust adding onto her own and making her cum for the umpteenth time. Natasha can’t even make much of a noise, her breath simply hitches from experiencing another orgasm so soon after.
Once your body stops spasming from the pleasure, you resume your thrusting into the redhead below you as if nothing happened. However, the position is unsatisfactory to you, and you manhandle the woman onto her elbows and knees. You have enough common decency to make sure Natasha’s head lands on a pillow, and you press the off button to the vibrator buried in Wanda when you hear her whimpers sound on the edge of being pained. You provide no such mercy towards the Russian, pounding into her with animalistic impulses, gripping onto her hips hard enough to ensure dark bruises. The angle makes it easier for you to brush against the bump of nerves, her back arching towards the mattress and causing you to reach undiscovered places inside of her.
“I knew that you were a big fucking slut the moment I laid eyes on you,” you hiss, tangling red tresses in your fist and pulling toward you. “I heard all this talk about the big, bad Black Widow. Then I met you in person, and instead of some legendary super-spy, I meet a brat who practically begs me to fuck her every time I walk into the same room. How does it feel to finally be fucked like the whiny whore you are?”
Natasha trembles from your words, her cunt clenching tightly around you. “It’s so good, Sir!” she slurs, cheeks wet with tears and chin covered in her own drool.
You grunt. “I’m going to ruin this slutty hole for anyone else. You’re going to touch yourself at night and think about how good my dick fills you, how much you want me to paint your pretty walls white with my cum. Then I’ll stuff you so full and plug you up so everyone can see how your cute tummy bulges.”
“Fuck!” the Russian cries, and you have to extort a decent amount of force to move with how tight Natasha is around you. “I have to cum, please! Please, Sir!”
“Hold it, princess,” you demand and Natasha chokes out a strangled sob, pleading for you to grant her permission. You strike your palm down on her ass as a response. “You’ve been doing so good, Natalia. Don’t be a greedy whore and fuck it up now. You can cum when I do, is that clear?”
Readjusting her position on the bed, you flip her onto her back and yank her knees up to her shoulders. Her glistening cunt is swollen and pink, fluttering for a grasp around air. More tears fall down her flustered face from the abrupt emptiness, but you resume your pounding into her before she has a chance to cry out a complaint. Natasha writhes on the bed as she tries to suppress her orgasm, and fortunately for her, you shoot your load inside of her after just a few several thrusts. The thick ribbons inflate her toned stomach, and she quivers through the aftershocks. Your hips remain pressed tight to her pelvis until her shaking ceases, then you pull out slowly, watching with satisfied amazement as white drips out of her hole. You swipe your middle fingers through her slit and press the digits to Natasha’s lips. They open without hesitation, her salivating tongue wrapping around your fingers, cleaning them until no trace of your cum remains. You press a hard kiss against her mouth when she releases your digits with a loud pop!
“Did so well for me, baby,” you tell her while peppering pecks on her sweaty face. She tiredly smiles with a blissed glow surrounding her. You pull her closer to Wanda, and the two tangle their slick legs together. They kiss sweetly, then pull away to stare in the other’s lidded eyes. Suddenly, you feel like a trespasser interrupting a moment too intimate for anyone to see. You silently enter their shared bathroom, grabbing two washcloths and soaking them in warm water.
You don’t know if they realised your short absence, and you avoid their eyes when you walk back to the bed. Gently cleaning the inside of their thighs without a word, Natasha and Wanda exchange a glance that you can’t see. Both let out a quiet whimper as you wipe over their intimate areas, but smile as you kiss their hipbones in the form of an unnecessary apology. You press a water bottle to each of their lips for them to gulp down, stealing a peck afterwards. But then you’re pulling the bedsheets over their naked bodies and they naively think that you’ll crawl in with them. Instead you kiss their foreheads and whisper a farewell alongside a quiet thank you, and you’re gone. The women are too worn out to chase after you, and even though they desperately call your name, their throats are too sore with voices too strained for you to hear. They fall asleep with fresh tears-tracks, bodies pressed close together, and an absence that presses down on both their hearts.
Pt 2
3K notes · View notes
lesbian-smart-water · 11 months
Text
while vision has the kids on a weekend trip, college R goes to a party with milf wanda, even though wanda says people will look at them weird because of the age difference.
wanda runs into the boys’ babysitter at the party and asks if you two can go home. you force her full of more alcohol and hold her in your lap on some stranger’s couch. drunk wands starts humping your leg, so needy from how hot daddy looks in a leather jacket and all the alcohol. so you loudly say goodbye to your friends in front of the babysitter and tell them you need to get your needy little baby in bed.
you put her to bed, and she passes out. but in the morning when the alcohol wears off, she’s climbing all over you and begging to give her what you wouldn’t while she was drunk.
196 notes · View notes
deblou008 · 7 days
Text
Boyfriend
Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader (honestly I kept it as gender neutral as possible)
Tumblr media
Summary: You know you could be a better boyfriend than him. You could do the shit that he never did. Up all night, you would never quit. Tonight would be the night that you would steal her from him. You could be such a gentleman, plus all your clothes would fit. (Based off the song, Boyfriend by Dove Cameron)
Part of A Playlist For Her series.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Top!Reader, Bottom!Wanda, Fingering, Rough Sex, Smut, G!PReader, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Infidelity, P n V Sex, Unprotected Sex, (may have missed a few, lemme know)
Word Count: 6673
A/N: DO NOT COPY ANY OF MY WORKS!
First attempt at writing a smutty fanfic in 2nd person. I apologize if it's terrible, need to start somewhere tho...
--------------------------------------------------
I can't believe we're finally alone
I can't believe I almost went home
What are the chances? Everyone's dancing
And he's not with you
"And here comes our wonderful host, Mr. Stark!"
You rolled your eyes as the crowd erupted into cheers, claps, and whistles. As a waiter passed by you took a champagne flute and drank it down as fast as you took it. Another stupid party you had to attend due to it being 'official Avengers' business. Walking away from the main stage the flute twirled around in your fingers over and over. You had made your appearance and now it seemed like an appropriate time to make your exit into a better Saturday night. You had shaken a few hands and laughed at a few too many mindless jokes. How Pepper and Tony did this often would always amaze you.
Before your exit though, you decided to stop at the dance floor just to wave at your dumbass friends. Bucky, Rhody, Steve, and Sam were all chopping it up with a bunch of girls from Stark Industries. Bucky gave you a wink as you passed them. You shook your head, absolute dogs. Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Thor, and Carol were in their circle getting down to the music in their own way. Next to them were Peter and Shuri busting out some real moves. You couldn't help but curl your lip into a smile as you passed by.
As the song changed, the sea of people parted to show you a beautiful woman standing in the middle of the floor alone amongst the backs of suit blazers and dresses. She was standing there with her hands neatly resting in front of her between her hips. Despite the chaos ensuing around her, she gently swayed as if time was slower for her than for everyone else. Little did you know that your feet were moving on their own towards her. She looked absolutely ethereal in her backless crimson dress with high slits running up the sides and a small black thorn crown sitting on top of her head. By the time you realized what your feet were doing you were only about a foot away. When she saw a shadow enter her circle, her head lifted to see who dared enter her space. Her scowl melted away as she saw your face.
"Hey," she whispered.
"Hey," you smiled back. She tucked a strand of hair behind her hair and looked back down at the ground. You quickly scanned the room to find that Vision was nowhere to be found.
"He's busy," she said coldly. You frowned. How could anyone let such an angelic being go alone to this party, especially looking like that? If it was you and her, you both would have barely made an appearance. Maybe even found a booth to sit at and fool around. You would've left marks on that beautiful back of hers before either of you had even stepped out of one of your rooms. Maybe you wouldn't have even made it that far- Before your mind wandered too far you mentally kicked yourself. She wasn't yours.
"I'm sorry," you said as you lifted her head with your finger. She smiled at you and reached for your hand. As soon as she made the gesture the song suddenly changed to a slow love song. You couldn't believe your luck as everyone started to find their partners.
The universe must have divined this
What am I gonna do
Not grab your wrist?
You bit the inside of your lip before you took your other hand out of your pocket to take her hand in yours. She blushed as she put her left hand on your shoulder and interlocked her right hand with yours. You then placed your right hand on her hip and started to sway to the rhythm of the song. She gently placed her head on your shoulder and closed her eyes. You lead her gently making sure no one bumped into either of you. You would literally kill anyone who dared disturb her or this precious moment. It was cheesy and you knew it but you scene you found yourself in couldn't have been written better in a Rom-Com. You had the perfect girl at the perfect moment. The universe must have planned this or maybe it was your devious little friends, Rocket and Groot, who were DJing for the party. Either way, you were eternally grateful for this dance. Everywhere she touched you her everlasting warmth could be felt. She felt like home. No, she was home.
I could be a better boyfriend than him
I could do the shit that he never did
Up all night, I won't quit
Thinking I'm gonna steal you from him
I could be such a gentleman
Plus all my clothes would fit
Looking down you noticed a wet patch was forming on your suit lapel. The grip around her waist got tighter and her fingers unlocked from yours to hold on to your waist. Her body practically melted into you as she tried her best to become as small as possible. The strongest woman in the room was no longer there, instead, a very fragile girl trusted you to keep her safe. Your free hand automatically started to caress her back to try to bring some sort of reassurance and comfort. The constant movement also shielded the rise and fall of her chest which kept getting heavier.
"Sometimes he's such a shitty boyfriend.." she trailed off. Her tears were no longer silent.
I could be a better boyfriend than him. I could do all the shit that he never did, you thought to yourself.
"I don't ask him for much.. I just wanted us to be out and proud as a couple finally. I wanted one nice date. I wanted to be shown off. God even just one dance would have been enough," she silently seethed. The emphasis on enough stung. How could he not see the goddess that he had beside him? Did he not understand that she brought up the sun every morning and blew kisses into the night to light up the sky? Fucking microwave. She deserved the world and he couldn't even give her a dance. Your fingers mindlessly dug harder into her hip as each thought arrived. Her gentle shift was the only thing that let you know what your fingers had been doing.
"I'm sorry," you stumbled. She sighed and pulled away to look into your eyes. Her emerald ones looked so pained, so tired. At that moment, it was decided that your only mission was going to be to steal her away from him. You would tell Tony and Furry that you needed a break. If the universe willed it, you were going to show her all the finer things in life because you could be the gentleman Vision could never be. Hell, you know you'd be a better boyfriend than him too. She would never question her worth with you nor would she ever be alone again, especially on a dance floor. You pulled your pocket square out and wiped her tears gently. A small curl of her lip let you know that you were doing alright. As the song shifted, you took off your suit jacket and put it around her. Before she had a chance to question what you were doing, you had her hand in yours, pulling her toward the door.
I could be a better boyfriend
I don't need to tell you twice
All the ways he can't suffice
If I could give you some advice
I would leave with me tonight
"Where are we going?" Wanda laughed softly as she was being pulled through countless doors and halls. Her words registered in your head but the only thing you could do was keep moving. You had to get out of there. You had to tell her how you really felt. You had to be the one to break it to her that she deserved way more than what she was receiving now.
"Can you please tell me where we are going?" Wanda shouted. Immediately your feet came to a halt and the small redhead came crashing into you.
"I'm sorry," you said as you caught her.
"Is that all you're going to say tonight?" Wanda asked as she raised her eyebrow. Scanning your surroundings, it was apparent that you had taken them deep into the Stark Tower. It was probably some hallway staff used to get around this massive thing. As your eyes wandered, you noticed a camera and before Wanda knew it she was being dragged once again. Pushing the last door open with your shoulder, you found yourselves outside in a poorly lit alleyway.
"Okay seriously, what the hell is up with you?!" Wanda exasperated.
"I'm sorry, I just.." you began to say.
"No. No more sorry's. Geezus we are in the middle of a gross dark alleyway. Like what the hell? I don't understand," Wanda complained. You took a deep breath before placing your hand behind her head pulling her toward you. Your lips danced slowly with hers. She pressed her body into yours and began to kiss back with passion. Your fingers gripped her beautiful silky hair. You both clung to each other, grasping at each other. Neither of you could get enough of the other. By the time your lips detached, you were both beyond out of air. The sudden slam of the door leading back inside caused you both to jump back from each other. A man in a blue suit ran outside and started puking several feet away from you. You looked deep into the witch's glistening green eyes searching for an answer. What was that brilliant mind thinking? Was she upset with you? Did she regret the intimate moment you had just shared? Had you read the situation wrong? You guys had been becoming closer and closer over the last few months but maybe this wasn't what she wanted.
"I-I.." you began to apologize again but the witch's fingers began to softly move to create a soft band of red magic that sealed your lips.
"You really need to stop apologizing," she smiled. The red ribbon of magic lifted off your lips and began to wrap around your wrists pulling them outward for her to slip her small body into. You wrapped your arms around her small frame, embracing her.
"I've been thinking about that for a long time.." you whispered. Wanda's bright green eyes looked up into yours.
"Really?" Wanda asked with a glimmer of hope in her voice.
"Yeah, really. I know I'm late, but I have always known deep down that it was you. The first time I laid eyes on you I knew you were going to be the one who I either spent the rest of my life with or the rest of my life getting over," you laughed.
"I've always been drawn to you," Wanda said as she caressed your cheek. "But lately, as we've been getting closer and closer, it's like you have this hold on me, something stronger than my magic even. You're all I think about," Wanda continued. The steam coming from the manholes twisted around you both, blowing her dress slit to the side just enough where you could see the very top of her hip. The hitch in your breath caught her attention. A devilish little smirk formed on the face of the little minx who you held in your arms.
You leaned down to nibble on her ear and whispered very seductively, "What do we have here?" The redhead moaned softly into your shoulder. Your fingertips ran over the bare skin the slit exposed. You could feel yourself getting even more aroused as you realized she wasn't wearing any underwear.
"Did you expect something like this to happen tonight?" you asked before biting her neck.
"Yes, and only with you," Wanda moaned.
"And how did you know that?" you wondered. Had she been reading your mind? Could her powers predict the future? What had given your lust for her away? There were only a few people in the compound who knew how madly in love you were with her.
"Stop thinking so loud," Wanda cooed. You tilted your head puzzled by her comment. You knew she could read minds but she had always promised to never probe into your mind without consent. She pulled back and took your face in her hands.
"I would never break your trust like that," she said sternly. "I don't even search for it. But your voice is so loud. It's like you project your thoughts to me. I can't stop it," she continued.
"When did it start?" you questioned.
"When we started getting close," she mumbled. You pulled away a little out of embarrassment.
"No, please. Don't be embarrassed or ashamed. I don't get all your thoughts, but the ones I do, are always welcome. It's been so long since Vision thought about half of the things you do. Sometimes when you make a scenario, it's like you're taking me on a date. I play it out with my magic in my room. It's so romantic and lovely. I feel like we've been dating since it started," Wanda said reassuring you. There that heat was again, spreading throughout your body as her forehead pressed against yours. Your head turned to get better access to her lips. She hungrily mouthed at you. Your lips sloppily ran all over hers. The cool breeze tickled your stomach as your button-up was being pushed up by eager little hands.
"Why don't we take this somewhere nicer before we go any farther," you whispered seductively against her lips. She smiled and nodded as she re-tucked your button-up back into your slacks. Her arms slipped into your jacket fully and she took your hand and led you back into the tower. Navigating the halls was taking too long as the arousal in your pants began to pool.
"Wanda! I've been looking all over for you... Oh, hey I didn't see you there," Natasha started to say. Your eyes hit the floor not knowing what to do, but Wanda was practically glaring daggers into Nat.
"Sorry, I'll leave you both to it, but I expect to be let in at some point," Nat finished. Wanda gave her a polite smile and started to run off again pulling you behind her.
"Wanda, love, slow down," You call out her. She just ignores you and keeps pulling you through the tower. After a few more hallways and a long elevator ride up, you end up in the Avenger's living quarters. You push her up against the wall and start mouthing at her neck. Her moans fill the elevator lobby.
"Geez can you two get a room?" Clint laughed. You both jump out of your skin which causes Clint to laugh even harder.
"You didn't see any of this," you mumbled as you took Wanda's wrist and led her toward your room. Clint pretends to zip his lips, lock them, and then throw away a key. Thankfully, your room and Wanda's rooms are on separate floors so even if Vision was up there, he wouldn't be the wiser. If he did happen to hear a commotion in your room, he'd probably assume you had brought some girl home from the party. It was a blessing and a curse that you often had people over. It was the only way you had come up with to drown out the thoughts of that toaster and Wanda doing things.
"We can do those things so much better," Wanda whispered as she attempted to open your door. You just laughed and shook your head. You reached into your pocket and unlocked the door. She tilted her head at the sound of keys jingling. It was uncommon for anyone to have an actual key and lock in the compound. Most of it was run by FRIDAY now.
"I like my privacy away from Stark, this is the only place I feel like I have it on the compound. He tried to fight me on it, but knew better," you winked. Wanda rolled her eyes playfully. While you weren't the most powerful or the smartest Avenger, your abilities rivaled the ones who were. Once the door was open you pulled her and then pushed her up against the door to close it. She immediately took off her throne crown and threw it somewhere toward the kitchen. Your suit coat was the next piece of clothing to be shed off her body. As you both kissed, her fingers began to work on untucking and unbuttoning your shirt again. Meanwhile, you were just as eager and started to guide your hand up the slits in her dress.
"Oh wow..." Wanda stuttered as your dress shirt hit the floor. Her emerald eyes were scanning you from your belly button up to your chest.
"Like what you see?" you teased. She swallowed hard and nodded. She had an idea of what you looked like as your clothes always accented your body in all the right places, but she didn't realize just how sculpted you were. Her hands started to wander up your neck and through your hair.
"Hold on Witchy," you whispered as you lifted her. Instinctively the redhead jumped up and wrapped her legs around your waist. As her lips sucked and her teeth bit on your neck, your hand dipped between your bodies to find her center. Your fingers spread her lips.
"Fuck, you're so wet babe," you whispered breathily.
"Hmm you feel so good," Wanda moaned.
"I haven't even really touched you yet," you murmured. Wanda buried her face in your neck as you find her clit. Her body is incredibly responsive to your movements. She kissed up and down your neck. She couldn't get enough of your touch, your taste, your scent, or your sounds. You engulfed all 5 of her senses. As your fingers rub her clit in a circular motion, her body starts to give off signals that she is getting closer to her climax. Someone who was just fucking her may not have noticed the little flashes of magic that go off as her body twitches or that her breath catches every 3rd swipe of your finger. She moved in the smallest ways but you are now so attuned to her that you noticed everything.
"I'm so close.. please don't stop," the redhead cried out.
"I wouldn't ever," you growled back. Wanda moaned your name loudly as she came around nothing. You gently worked her through her orgasm before dipping the tips of your fingers inside her. She was absolutely soaked.
"Bed please?" She begged. You carried her into your bedroom and gently laid her down on your bed as if she were a porcelain vase. She looked up at you with eyes that screamed for you to take her. While you wanted to rip that beautiful dress off, you knew that it would be suspicious if she no longer had the dress, so instead, it was taken off with the utmost care. Of course, the woman beneath you thought you were taking too long and whined in protest.
"Someone's needy," you said as you undid your belt buckle and shimmed out of your trousers. The bulge in your briefs became more prominent.
"Well, someone's excited," she teased.
"Always, just for you," You smiled above her. Her hands cupped your clothed cock and you let out a gravely moan. She smirked and pulled it out of your briefs. Her skilled hands slowly began to move up and down your shaft.
"Fu- you feel so good.. my dreams don't do your hands justice.." you trailed off.
"Well, you're not dreaming anymore detka," she reached up to pull you down to her. Your lips crashed into each other.
As you kiss, you shimmy out of your briefs to match her bareness. The witch's green eyes glowed at the sight of you. You felt your face get hot with embarrassment. It had been a while since you had been fully naked with someone. Keeping clothes on kept it less personal, but here you both were fully exposed to each other. You could see every freckle, scar, and blemish and she could see the same.
"I need you please..." Wanda begged. You groan into a kiss and your teeth bite down on her lower lip. Her hungry hands explored your toned back and left marks as your mouth moved down her neck. All you wanted to do was mark her up and claim her but you knew better. The toaster may be oblivious when it comes to love, but he wasn't completely blind. Her hips grind up trying to move your thoughts along. You respond by grinding your hips harder into her; the tip of your cock pressing against her lips. The loud moan that escaped the witch's lips was pornographic.
"Fuck, I love the sounds you make... best believe I'm going to make you scream for me," you promise. All Wanda can do is whine in response. She knew you had a reputation, but she didn't care. She was more than excited to finally be on the receiving end of action instead of just hearing it from the various secretaries and S.H.I.E.L.D agents who you took home.
"I want the whole building to know..." Wanda moaned.
"That's a promise I can keep," You aligned yourself between her legs and pumped your cock a few times before sliding yourself between her folds.
"I don't think I'm going to be able to control myself once I'm in you," you confessed. The feeling of her lips hugging your cock was enough to send you into a frenzy. You were almost afraid of what would happen once you were truly enveloped by her core.
"Don't be gentle with me detka. Fuck me. Hard." Wanda hissed. Those words released the animal that you had been holding back. You plunged yourself into her and didn't stop until you were completely inside her. The sound that escaped the back of your throat sounded more animal-like than anything. Shit, for her you would get down on all fours and howl if you had to. The feeling of you stretching her out was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Those girls were right, she wasn't going to be able to walk after you. She cried out when she felt you bottom out inside her. She had never felt so full before. She swore if you went any deeper you would have split her in half. Her eyes were tightly shut trying to prevent the tears that were prickling from escaping. The redhead's forehead pressed up against yours.
"I got you, princess, I promise," you whispered lovingly. She nodded and started to relax into you as you began to move. Her heavenly core was making you delirious. Her warm wet walls were a drug that you were now undoubtedly addicted to. You snap your hips into her at a brutal pace. It was never your intention for your first time with her to be so carnal, but every fiber of your being needed to feel; her velvet walls clenching around you, her nails carving into your back, and her teeth leaving marks on your chest and neck.
You wanting her in such a way felt unreal but the way you were pounding into her told her otherwise. She had never felt so loved or appreciated despite being fucked like this was the last thing you were ever going to do. She knew slow would come later. Right now was about proving how much you needed her and how serious you were about every single thought you ever had about her.
The filth that was coming from her mouth alone could make you cum, but luckily this wasn't your first time. You wanted to hold out as long as humanly possible. Your eyes traveled down her whole body and landed on her cunt. The way it swallowed your length greedily was criminal.
"God Wanda, you feel so good, so fucking good," you grunt against her lips. All she could do was moan in response. The red flares of magic all around them and the way her eyes would flicker between red and green were signs that her brain was short-circuiting. She was rapidly losing control. Her hips were being mercilessly pounded into the bed. If the lewd noises of skin slapping and moans weren't loud enough, the sounds the bed was making most definitely could be heard all around. If your next-door neighbor Bucky was back from the party already, he would be partaking in similar activities and/or rooting you on. Clint's room was across from yours and was usually empty when he had time off. Since he already caught you in the elevator lobby, he was probably going to just crash in Nat's room tonight if he stayed.
"Faster muy lyubov'," Wanda begged. Her wish was your command so you adjusted yourself so you were on your knees and Wanda's legs were folded into her. You start to slowly pull out of her but stop once your tip catches the curve inside her. You linger a while, watching the goddess below you squirm at the loss of contact. A bright red flash of magic escapes her palms showing her frustration. The chuckle that escaped your lips was louder than you realized. Her emerald orbs turned ruby red in an instant. The move you made next turned those ruby-red eyes an onyx black.
The new angle you positioned yourself in allowed you to push yourself deeper than before. The filth that left her pretty little lips when you hit that spot was otherworldly. A siren's song luring its next victim; you would happily fall into her trap every time. There was no denying that you were the one in control in whatever this was, but you would happily and willingly follow this woman to every single universe. The power she had over you made you lightheaded, but the power she allowed you to have over her made you drunk. You felt more superior than any super serum could. 
"Anything for you princess," you whispered once you physically couldn't go any deeper. The brutal pace you set made Wanda's hands firmly clutch the sheets below her. With every dominating thrust, her boobs bounced furiously and you could feel her tightening around you. As the witch below you started to near her second orgasm, her moans grew louder, and flashes of red lit up the room. Her eyes rolled back into her head; stars were the only thing she could see. Drool was dripping from the sides of her lips. She looked fucked out but she didn't care. The way you were fucking her into another dimension was worth any price. 
The way your fingers were digging into Wanda's thighs was surely going to leave bruises, but you didn't care. You needed a shred of physical evidence that tonight happened. You pushed back thoughts of the aftermath. You needed her to be yours. You would never stop showing her that you were the better choice, even if that meant stealing countless nights like this.
Wanda locked her arms around your neck and pulled you down into a hungry messy kiss. What could only be described as a desperate pathetic whine escaped your lips as you felt her walls flutter around you again. Both of you working together to reach the high that you were both so desperate for.
"I'm so close detka," Wanda breathily moaned into your mouth. Your godlike stamina was being tested. No other woman had ever scratched the surface of what you were capable of. For Wanda though, you were giving it your all. Furiously you fucked her, making sure you got yourself as close as you could each time you sank your cock back into her. 
"Come with me, come in me!" Wanda demanded. With the last thrust, you gave it your all. Wanda came with such force that her magic expelled from her in a red wave, knocking everything in its path. Her spasming core was all it took for you to spill inside of her. Her rosy pink walls were no more; freshly covered with your thick white paint. The sounds of both of your fluids mixing together was sinful, but damn did it feel like heaven. If this was sinning, then you didn't want to ever do right. You would worship whatever deity you had to as long as you could feel this again.
Your bodies collided like tectonic plates. Strong surges of power created new mountains and pleasure crashed over you both like rough waves on the freshly formed beach. It took several minutes before the lust cluster of clouds dissipated. The moment of clarity gave you a view of the tornado-stricken room. The bed was now on the floor and the room was in disarray. While it looked like a natural disaster took place, you knew only the most natural creation had occurred. 
Your boneless body finally succumbed to all the physical energy you had exerted. You collapsed on top of Wanda's lifeless body. Sweat and cum cemented you together. Broken pants was the only language either of you could speak. Every nerve ending each of you had was alive and responsive to any aftershocks from the earth-shattering orgasms.
Your lips were the first thing to move as they peppered Wanda's sweat-laced cheeks with gentle kisses. She smiled at the tenderness of your actions. Vision had never been one for aftercare or showing affection after the deed was done. She had only ever been with Vision, but she knew she could never go back. Wanda couldn't believe she had been missing out on this her entire adult life. The legend of you was true and now she couldn't live without it.
The evidence of what had transpired started to leak from her core onto the bed. The primal need to make sure your seed took overtook any sort of logic. Sloppily you pushed your release deeper into her with shallow thrusts. You were still rock hard inside her. Wanda's body instinctively pulled away from the overstimulation, but your body weight held her firmly against the mattress. Her protests were no use and your whispered apologies were winning her over. Once the dust of lust finally settled, you started to pull out slowly. The witch beneath you cried out at the loss.
"Stay," she begged. Her words commanded you back inside her. The most powerful Avenger purred like a kitten as she felt you back inside. After a few moments, you wrapped your arm around her torso and flopped onto the bed, pulling her with you. Her body instinctively melted into you. She felt so safe and secure in your arms.
"Detka...?" Wanda whispered. You didn't make a sound. She turned to look back at you and your eyes were already closed. Your breathing had also changed, it was heavier. It wasn't a snore, but it was deeper and different than anything she had heard before while you slept. This is what deep sleep looked like on you. A smile crept across her face. The sound was so calming. While she shared a bed with Vision, he hardly ever made a noise and sometimes it felt like she was alone in their bed. But now here you were, enveloping her with your warmth, lulling her to sleep with the constant noise of your breathing, and sending sporadic flickers of pleasure as your cock still twitched inside her. You felt like home. No, you were home.
I never would have left you alone
Here on your own glued to your phone
Never would have left you alone
For someone else to take you home
The next few days played out semi-normally, however, each time you both occupied the same space, the sexual tension was so thick it couldn't even be cut by Tony's energy blade. The only ones who knew about what happened in the after-hours of Tony's party were Natasha, Clint, and Tony. All three of them avoided you both like the plague. Bucky knew you slept with someone but didn't know who. He sure teased the shit out of you as he helped you clean up your room. He knew you liked it rough, but nothing prepared him for the aftermath of Wanda. Bucky knew it wasn't a normal girl that you had brought home that night. No mortal human could have survived a session like that. Despite the relentless questions, you never gave up Wanda's name.
Vision was none the wiser. Every morning during breakfast, he would kiss the redheaded woman's head and fly off to hang out with Tony in the lab. Wanda was left alone in the compound for long periods. She was always glued to her phone trying to avoid everyone's eyes. She knew what she did was wrong but as much as she tried, she couldn't feel shame or even guilty for letting you take her that night. 
Tony and Natasha strategically placed everyone at the team dinner on the following Saturday.  Unbeknownst to you it would shatter the fragile illusion that everything was as it was before the party. As you made your way to the table, you noticed that you and Wanda had to sit next to each other. Wanda was just as surprised when she saw the seating arrangement. If looks could kill, Natasha would be on the floor dead. The other redhead only shrugged in response. Natasha was the only one who had known from the beginning that both of you liked each other. She was determined to get you both to talk about it. The sentient machine made his appearance late and sat on Wanda's right. Luckily, Vision was clueless to the tension that saturated the air as he couldn't read emotions.
"So who had fun at the party last week?" Tony asked trying to penetrate the emotions that loomed.
"I sure did," Sam laughed and winked at some shield agent across the table.
"I think we all did, didn't we," Bucky said as he nudged your arm. The food in your mouth got caught in your throat. Bucky smacked your back and helped you out before you choked.  Your stomach was seconds from expelling everything you just inhaled.
"I heard Wanda did too," Natasha interjected.
"Oh, that's great. I had hoped that you did. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it my love," Vision said as he looked at Wanda. Wanda's eyes locked onto the full plate in front of her. Her heart was somewhere in between her throat and the floor. Your hand instinctively went to her thigh but she jumped and bumped into Vision who then spilled her drink on the table. Everyone stood up trying to save face. The clattering of dishes and napkins being thrown in her direction distracted Vision enough to not notice the tears forming in the corners of her mossy green eyes.
"You alright love?" Vision asked.
"Yes, I'm so sorry Vision, I need to go," Wanda mumbled as she ran out of the dining room. You began to stand up but a strong metal hand yanked you back in your seat. Bucky shook his head and all you could do was huff. If they had all kept their mouths shut this would have never happened. They could have all pretended they knew nothing. Vision looked baffled by the events that just unfolded. He excused himself and took off after who he thought to be the love of his life.
"Fuck you all," you growled.
"No, fucking is what got you two into this mess in the first place," Tony barked back. Your hands balled into fists. He had no right to announce that to the table.
"It had to come out somehow. While Vision may not be able to fully feel, he deserves to know that the woman he believes he loves no longer loves him," Natasha added. Your blue energy started to flow out of your body creating a protective outline of your body. Bucky grabbed your shoulder again trying to gound you, but instead, he fell to the floor in agony as your magic sent electricity through him. Your eyes were glowing sapphire blue.
Steve jumped up, trying to contain you but the blue energy that protected your body like a shield blocked the Captain's advances and blew him into the wall behind him. The energy that radiated from your body was an extension of yourself. It reacted and responded on its own. Sam was next to try but luckily for him, Natasha had pinned him to the table as blue beams of energy blasted from your eyes where he had been standing.
"Enough!" Tony's voice boomed. Everyone paused. "I need you all to be at your best. You and Wanda will not be at your best if the air isn't cleared. I don't care if what Vision knows is the truth or a lie. I don't care if you end up together or not. But I need whatever this is to be resolved. We have a world to protect." Tony continued. Slowly your energy absorbed itself back into your body and your eyes returned to their normal color. As much as you hated it, Tony was right. You turned to help Bucky up off the ground and brushed him off.
"Sorry," you mouthed. Bucky nodded and patted your shoulder. He had never seen you so worked up over anyone before. He knew whatever happened between you and Wanda that night had to have been special. It was worth hurting him and everyone else in the room. Natasha helped Sam up off the table and then went over to check on the Captain.
"And you're paying for this," Tony scolded you. A quick scan of the room concluded that you would be in debt to the billionaire for a while.
Dinner was officially ruined and everyone scattered into their perspective places. Bucky insisted on taking you both up to your floor. His enhanced hearing picked up on the conversation that Wanda and Vision were having in their floor's kitchen. He knew it would be best for them to work it out without you being in the middle of it.
-----------------------------------------------------------
It was Wednesday when you finally caught the witch sitting alone on a bench outside surrounded by blossoming trees. Her back was facing you and her eyes were still glued to her phone. You stood behind her and scanned the area.
"We're over," Wanda admitted. A breath you didn't realize you had been holding in escaped heavily. The witch stood up and turned to face you. If it was even possible, she looked more beautiful than before, happier too.
"I'm sor-" you started to say. The woman moved so fast that you didn't even have time to process what was happening before her lips shut you up before you could finish your apology. You kissed her back slowly. The kiss was just as magical as before but it felt lighter. She was free of him and of the guilt that she was supposed to feel. Both of you smiled against each other's lips as the kiss ended.
"I will be a boyfriend than him," you muttered.
"And I will be a better girlfriend to you than anyone else has ever been," she added. A slight breeze blew by causing the woman in your arms to shiver. You moved out of her grasp for a second as you took your jacket off, putting it around her. She smiled and wrapped herself around you again.
"Plus, all my clothes would fit," you smirked. The witch just rolled her eyes as her arms wrapped around your frame. Finally, you two could be happy together.
---------------------------------------
Ao3 / Masterlist (coming soon) / Spotify Playlist
Hope you're having a great night/day, whenever you're reading this!
xoxo
43 notes · View notes
widowpunx · 11 months
Text
🐰Down The Rabbit Hole We Go / Dirty Prompts 🐰
"Hi, my name is Wanda, and I'm a spermaholic yeah prefer that word instead cum-slut. Well ... I was hoping to come to this meeting and say I hadn't sucked dick in two months, but this morning I met a woman named Natasha and ..."
61 notes · View notes
leosmaxromanoff · 2 years
Text
War of Hearts
Tumblr media
A/N:  Takes place in MoM (Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness) so if you haven’t seen the movie, I recommend you stop right here because you'll probably eat some spoilers.  Hope you return after you see it :)
Summary: 
So far, the universe is said to be infinite and flat.
Because of the same expansion, there are zones that have no interaction whatsoever, to the point that even light cannot communicate with them. In these points of disconnection not everything can happen, but everything happens.
There is a place where you didn’t have to lose your kids and husband There is a place where you could see everyone in a minute… There is a place where the sun did rise again upon you… There is a place where you did protect everyone…
Someone trying to start over and someone who tries to recover what she lost.
Is the multiverse big enough to find your happiness?
_______________________________________________________
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Genre: Romance / Angst / Fluff / Drama
Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Stephen Strange, Wong, Christine Palmer, América Chávez, The Illuminati, Natasha Romanoff, probably some other Avengers.
General Words: 6.3K
State: ONGOING
________________________________________________________
General Warnings: Mention/Description of Battles, Mention/Description of blood, Grief, Characters death or mention of the same, Explicit Sexual content, Alternate universe. (Probably be adding more)
Sexual Warnings: Praise Kink, Degrading Kink, Fingering, Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Riding thight, Posessiveness, Dom!Wanda, Sexual toys, Strap-On, a little of breeding kink, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Overstimulation, Mommy kink. (Probably be adding more)
_____________________________________________________________
CHAPTERS: 
Prologue
Chapter 1.- Hold On
Chapter 2 .- Water
111 notes · View notes
wmarximoff · 2 years
Text
devoted wife | w. maximoff
Tumblr media
summary: you are a devoted wife who is capable of doing anything for your wife's welfare; including letting Wanda release the unhealthy nature that resides within her.
warnings (18+): dark Wanda, dark(ish) reader, brief smut, breeding kink, strap-on sex (Wanda receiving), choking (r receiving), smoking, slightly toxic relationship, explicit depiction of blood, explicit depiction of violence, explicit depiction of dead body, manipulation.
pairing: Wanda x fem!reader
word count: 3k
A/N: i literally wrote this here in one sitting so it's probably not my best work, but i was really inspired by the Love and Death teaser and this idea just wouldn't get out of my head. but hey, don't read if dark topics aren't your cup of tea. this shit is just pure madness.
anyway, enjoy!
|masterlist|
༺ᱬ༻
The smoke is like a pair of dancers dancing a waltz above your head, making love in the air. This time is no different from the last time it happened or even the second to last, although the sky is particularly cloudy and the weather tastes like conformism that is stabilized by a bitterness that consumes you within your stomach.
You inhale from the cigarette you smoke, seeking comfort in the fume, and hold and spray the tobacco through your nostrils, in almost enviable sync with the watery sound that can be found behind your shoulders, which are tucked inside a gray hooded jacket like the fur of a wild wolf; other than the circular call of a remote owl, the only sound heard is the tiny, breathy moans that Wanda lets out here and there as she grunts when she takes gulps of oxygen.
A few unconscious mutters are gasped, puffs leaking from between your wife's peachy lips, who's out of your sight because the right side of your hip is snug against the icy bodywork of your off-road car.
The night is as unsettling in your bones as the fateful sight of a car accident would be, and the song of the night birds hidden among the branches and foliage of the tall trees, with an audience of nightly eyes, brings you a certain ghostly feeling that you are a prey, and not hunter. Yet, in your simplest cognition, you are nothing more than a devoted wife.
And you remember when you first met Wanda, nearly two decades already spent in each other's company. Westview, a tiny town in upstate New Jersey, was not used to welcoming new faces into its suburban structures; and that is why the Maximoff family, made up of an immigrant couple and their two twin children born on American soil (a boy and a girl, both of your age), was an object of study adopted by all the little more than six thousand inhabitants at the time they moved into your neighborhood.
Her brother soon began to walk in the footsteps of the Westview High cool kids troupe (Pietro was a born athlete), but Wanda was like a shy shadow of her older twin, who lived holed up behind thick book pages, with an introverted presence that soon usurped your attention when your attentive gaze scanned her face, who sat at a desk placed to the right of yours during literature classes.
You asked her about five months after you met her properly, and she accepted the proposal just two days later – in college it was a little different with the proposal, because you proposed at a fine restaurant and she accepted at readiness, rewarding your with the purest of smiles gleaming at the commission of her pearly lips, an act showered with a limpid, chaste glint of love that showcased her two front teeth, which were vaguely larger than the rest and gave her a bunny appearance, because she had the habit of fortuitously scrunching a flash of skin from her nose when engendering the act of smiling.
But something withered in Wanda after the first year of marriage between the two of you, a couple still so young, with so much to do in partnership with each other. Your sweet wife was restless when you came home from work, and it was hard to say what was on her mind. Wanda, while possessing a rather emotional nature, was never the type to open up easily, and it was customary for her to bottle up her own feelings when they bothered her too much, when she didn't quite know how to deal with the will growing inside her.
Until she told you, once, after days turned into weeks all had with a certain distance between you and her that, in all your honesty, had your heart constricted inside your chest.
It was late at night, and your room was barely dipped in a haze of yellow light that emanated from a small lamp on the bedside table – you with your eyes wandering over the sentences of some novel open between the palms of your hands, holding the book close to the tip of your nose, as Wanda lied with her milky back turned to you, who assumed that your wife had long been snoring beside you, enjoying a deep night's sleep.
“Something's missing,” her voice came suddenly, prompting your chin to snap back to her, who still hadn't turned to look back at you.
“What's missing, baby?” it was a question you didn't know would prove to be a watershed for the line of normalcy that ruled your life when in a small family of two.
When Wanda shifted in bed, rustling the sheets to turn to look at you, her eyes, once green as a polished emerald stone, were made dark and deep like the moss that grows in the dampness of tree bark, untouched by the sun, away from life. It was that look you'd never seen before take over her pretty features, a numb emptiness that lacked filling, a will found in the confines of the soul that inhabited her body. She looked like a silent doll, staring at you with that verdant expanse that seemed to be able to read your thoughts.
Icy electricity ran along the length of your spine. You never thought that Wanda could give you the chills.
The need building inside her, expanding, taking shape and greater proportions, was thunderous and all-encompassing. It was an itch, a predatory addiction. A strange psychic deficiency, which you could never remedy on your own; it was out of her reach, that was not your role in her life. You were assigned the role of wife, partner, which you gladly accepted, for better or worse, just contenting yourself with a smile on the face of the one who was your muse, your obsession, your sanity and your madness.
But Wanda soon realized that you alone wouldn't be enough to satisfy the needs pulsing inside her, like preludes to a coming calamity; in her eyes was the warning of the apocalypse.
Not in the way she wanted, because when the length of her fingers pressed against the pulsing muscles and arteries of your throat, on one particularly wild night when she, with the hollow of her bare alabaster thighs snugly fitted to the red toy strapped to your waist, riding you like an animal in heat, something in her came to the edge and she allowed herself to fall, increasing the pressure, depriving your brain of the oxygen necessary for your body's full functionality.
It was as if she wanted to squeeze the life out of you. To see what your reaction would be and what would hers be too.
Your vision darkened as she came in a sharp moan, perhaps more from the lust from the power she exerted over you than from sexual the act itself, tightening her grip on the sensitive skin of your larynx. And you couldn't breathe, but you didn't need oxygen; you needed her. She would fill your lungs with life. Though she let go in time for any permanent sequel to do you irreversible damage, five hideous bruises marked you as her property in purplish-red streaks, like a galaxy dotted across your epidermis.
But when the notion dawned on you, when you had to cover your wounds with a coat of makeup, your somewhat hurt reaction to the violence calmed her nerves. Although, if she really wanted to, you'd let her steal the oxygen from your chest.
In an orgasm achieved on the day that marked your second year of marriage, a couple of months later, you offered your wife the idea of conceiving a child together. It seemed natural for a couple who'd been together as long as the two of you to dream up the idea of starting a family that would exceed two people, after all.
“I bet you'd look so hot pregnant,” it was said in a groan punctuated by a panting breath, as she rode your strap moving her body over yours the way she always liked to do, “Can you imagine that, Wands? Me putting a baby inside you?”
And she sighed a, “Fuck, Y/n!”, moving even faster with her hips, reaching for you, going for a much-needed orgasm. When her fingers bit into your neck a second time, you didn't care at all.
It didn't take more than a few tries for the twins to come; Thomas, fifteen minutes older, followed by William accordingly. Two boys who could be nothing but the embodiment of your love for her; the gift you wanted her to bestow. And the firsts of childhood witnessed by the caress of a mother's gaze did lift Wanda's spirits; for a while life was simple, the two of you too busy to allow yourself to think about anything but bottles and pacifiers. But what was spreading through Wanda's senses, until then asleep, haunted her again like an ethereal creature scraping the inside of her skull.
You saw the earnest way in which she directed furtive glances at other people who were becoming commonplace figures in her everyday life; other women who lived as secondary characters in your lives, just innocent lambs beside the wolf in disguise. But you loved her. You preyed for her good, who was the love of your life, who had been the mother of your children formed in the graces of her womb, her flesh and blood. And then, there was consent.
At some point, you gave your blessing for her to do so, because you knew it would make her happy, make her complete in a way that even your family couldn't; because she licked her lips like a thirsty person looking for water to quench her thirst – Wanda suffered from an impulse, just a lapse, a little unrestrained slip, and you were there to hold her hand every time she fell into perversities of her own temptations. You were the tightrope that kept her balanced within her own mental faculties.
The first was Agatha, there was no way you could forget; she was the boys' elementary school teacher and had a wide smile accompanied by full brown hair that made her look like an evil witch in a children's cartoon. Wanda consumed her completely, and you watched every wretched action your wife performed toward the woman older than the two of you. And then came Sharon, a friendly blonde store clerk. Darcy, a college student, and Jennifer, an aspiring lawyer. They made Wanda happy, and so were you too.
Kate came over the weekend you made it from the big city to the Westview welcomes, when your father's birthday celebration was held, sixty years or more than that.
Your parents seemed elated with yours and Wanda's presence in the small town, because it also meant the company of their only grandchildren, whom they both cherished and the feeling was mutual between the boys (Tommy was interested in asking Alexei about his time served as a low-ranking soldier in the remote Soviet Union, and Billy would ask Melina to read to him books that contained in their pages words that his scant childhood cognition, however cunning, would not be able to pronounce without the help of an adult, and it so happens that he has always been very close to his grandmother).
Natasha, your older sister, was out for military service, but Yelena, the youngest of the family, was the one who came from college, and brought along with her the company of the tall Kate Bishop, the girlfriend who she said that one day would be her wife.
Kate was a nice girl, and you were happy for your sister, who was all touching and hugging with her partner.
Over the course of dinner she engaged in an avid conversation with your father about sport archery (which she had been practicing since even younger than your children, she reported when you, across the table, asked her about it and was promptly greeted with a warm response), and she incontinently repeated a dish of stroganoff prepared by your mother, who served her with gusto.
But you can't help but notice the way Wanda looked at her from behind her glass of red wine. Thinking, scheming, studying in her brain methods of making it happen, of twisting and breaking something she wanted to crush between her hands.
Something fell into you, and you were barely able to answer the question Billy asked you as your gaze traced from your wife to the girl oblivious to her situated across the table, to near your younger sister's left shoulder. How Wanda's mouth really seemed to water in the presence of a girl young enough to be her little sister, for a meat she'd like to taste.
When Tommy called out to her, though, she looked away from the dark-haired young woman to look at you, who were standing next to your son standing between the two of you. And then, she smiled reassuringly, her lips brushed with a thin layer of red wine that did nothing to diminish the doses of sweetness in her features; and you were delivered, because she was yours and you were hers. Even if, behind that genuine smile, there was an enormous strength, a will equipped with an animalistic voracity, like a secret voluptuousness between you and your wife.
All it took was her tongue between your legs for her to have you where she wanted.
When, in the next night, your parents went to spend quality time with the boys at a nearby ice cream shop and Yelena left to go to the store to buy the missing ingredients for a homemade cookie recipe, Wanda sprang into action and, like a fool in love, you followed after her, tailing the emotional collar which she had screwed around your neck along with the wedding band on your ring finger.
You were different, you weren't disposable. You were her favorite possession.
There was no denying it. There was no way to leave her. There was no way to stop it. Even when her hand caressed the cheek of a Kate so absorbed in a banal and commonplace act between sisters-in-law, even when Wanda lured her like a treacherous viper, just waiting for the fatal pounce on the helpless little mouse.
And, well, if Wanda was the snake, you allowed yourself to taste the red apple she offered you. Your primary sin was loving her. It was to be a devoted wife.
You, therefore, take a little more and throw the rest of your cigarette on the floor, crushing it with the sole of your shoe, ending the act when the sound fades, and there are only sharp gasps to be heard through the night.
And, after fumbling with your fingers for a handful of garbage bags placed near your right ankle like an old dog, you stick your left hand inside your front trouser pocket as you bring your hips away from the bodywork of the car, wrapped in a color of red like the skin of a ripe cherry, departing in conversational strides to the front of the vehicle, where a pair of glowing headlights are like the demonic eyes of a creature in the midst of darkness, engulfed in the hollow heart of the forest that surrounds the city boundary.
A stream of yellow light reflects off the sharp edge of a metal ax that drips onto a thick viscous material that is an amalgamation of brains and entrails, and it is Wanda who has the sturdy wooden handle pressed between the fingers of both hers hands, her wedding band bathed in a splash of still-warm blood. And, well, indeed your marriage is bloody like your wife's blouse and hair, who lets the scarlet-soaked tool fall to the floor with a hollow thud, as if she's eaten too much and is too full before digestion.
She digests the moment, the atmosphere. She digests you.
Wanda no longer deals any blows against the crumbs of that shapeless, gory and mirrored thing all over the floor that was once Kate's head, now open and with all its inner contents on display – a disgusting gray mass that soils her shoes and the hem of her pants.
Wanda is happy, exultant, vibrating with a belated contentment that she can barely contain from the shots of adrenaline coursing through her veins when caught in the violent act of inflicting pain on anyone other than her or yourself. And she doesn't look any less pretty, even when she's covered in blood spatter, dirt, hair and guts. And if she's happy, you're happy. Because you are a devoted wife.
“All done here, honey?” you call out to her, brandishing the garbage bags held up by your right hand.
“All done,” she smiles as she comes towards you, pupils dilated and dark, “Thank you for doing this for me, baby.”
“I’ll always do everything I can to make you happy Wanda, you know that.”
And her answer is a kiss with the metallic taste of blood that slides between your teeth.
And for a second you try to think about Kate, who made your kids laugh until they were ready to cry and who also pleased your parents, and how Yelena's crying would break your heart once she realized her girlfriend would never come back home again. But Wanda's discomfort would shatter your soul. If her addiction was to the dismemberment of living people, yours was to her happiness.
“Baby,” she murmurs against your lips, a puff of warm air entering the gap of your mouth, fresh blood pouring in a single drop toward your chin, “I love you, you know? You're the only person I need in my life, Y/n. Only you."
And her words make your heart rumble inside your chest in an exultant pulse of joy. Because you're just a devoted wife. Or maybe just a mind as sick as Wanda's.
“I love you too, pretty girl,” you smile, “I am devoted to you.”
1K notes · View notes
marximoff · 2 years
Text
take me, one more wave | w. maximoff
Tumblr media
summary: you start to take your first steps towards healing, but that doesn't mean the path will be easy. luckily for you, Wanda happens to be a great listener.
warnings: heavy make out, smut, strap-on sex (Wanda receiving), fingering (r receiving), hair pulling (Wanda receiving), dirty talk, dry humping, maybe a cumfilled strap hint, mentions of smoking, mentions of drinking, canon typical violence, heavily detailed panic attack, angst.
pairing: Wanda x fem!reader
word count: 11k
A/N: ok, things are finally getting better in a certain way (and horny, these people are horny), but the question is… how long will it stay like this, eh? kidding, i want the happiness of these two as much as anyone - but it's just so ironic to enjoy writing angst when you have a heart as gay as mine, i know
((wanda and r totally listened to deftones together btw
well, well, well, enjoy!
|series masterlist|
|part one| |part two| |part three| |part four| |part six|
《《《《《《《ᱬ》》》》》》》
Wanda's unwary green eyes glance toward the face of the brown-strap watch, screwed on solemnly by the length of her slender right wrist, in a necessary acknowledgment of the time marked by the small gray hands on its monotone interior—seven forty-two in the morning, still there is plenty of time to have breakfast peacefully and subtly.
And then she hears, in an avid gulp, Tommy drink the entire contents of his glass of warm milk at an astonishing speed, almost as if to quench a naughty thirst in the back of his throat that has lingered for more than days. And then Wanda takes a deep breath. It would be nice if he understood a little more of what peacefully and subtlety really mean.
Then she just blinks slowly because soon after she turns, with a spatula, the face of a homogeneous, round mass of blueberry and oatmeal, which is fried before the extension of a metal frying pan which she holds by the handle with her right hand, the pancake shivering in the air as she does.
Y/N used to be a natural breakfast pancake connoisseur, Wanda remembers well, which is why she suspects her boys have a specific taste for their morning meal too – blueberry pancakes, sugary cereal, toast with butter and orange juice, just as their mother was so fond of too.
Behind Wanda, then, on the counter stretched out to the left side of the sink, a juicy orange sliced in half floats and squeezes against a juicer made of yellow plastic, the spherical fruit with a porous rind shrouded in a thin layer of scarlet mist all around itself (the fruit which is enchanted to press itself against the object), turning and squashing, until all its fresh juice is extracted into a thick glass jar.
Nearby, in a pale plastic bowl, a wooden spoon turns clockwise as it mixes more pancake batter on its own.
At the dark dining table, which is set not that far from the stove where Wanda is standing on its edge, Billy, intently, finishes verifying a question answered the night before in his math notebook, eyes diligently digging into each of the numbers written there on the sheet of paper in airy strokes of pencil lead by his refined grammar, while Tommy, still with his cheeks cluttered with long swigs of warm milk, nibbles a green apple with a slurping hollow sound of “fronc”, even though his absorbed gaze does not fail to capture any movement made by the cartoon character that is highlighted by the television screen placed some distance away from the table, next to the dark linen sofa.
The sweet melic essence from the pancakes intoxicates the interior of the house, like an irrepressible deluge of intense domestic flavors worthy of a family environment, with its den centralized in the kitchen – a room which is being covered by a serene sheet of external solar beams, shy golden streaks, thin as small threads of gold, that enter the room through the long panes placed in their thin windows raised in front of the sink.
The mild climate that hangs over the city during the early afterglow of the morning, despite the sunny day that stretches across the celestial field, is prone to somewhat heavier clothing than the usual spring shots require, but this is something that in no way bothers the excellent brown-haired witch, who, in turn, wears, buttoned to her chest, only a simple silk shirt, and nothing superimposed on this banal piece of clothing.
As for her children, on the other hand, Wanda has that maternal need to wrap them up and keep them healthy and warm, which is why both twin boys wear long, thick fabrics on their small bodies – to shelter from the subtle chill that plagues that phlegmatic morning regurgitated through the so prosaic Westview.
“Boys” she calls over her shoulder in a motherly tone, “Have you packed your bags yet?”
“Yes, mama” is the immediate response from Billy, still sitting at the table.
"I was going to do that right now" and then Tommy gets to his feet, leaving the half-bitten apple on the table, "Be right back"
The boy turns his back and then heads towards the stairs - although his speed is not exceeding that of a normal child, there is still, on Tommy's part, a useful lightness in his actions as he steps fast, one foot right behind the other, down the wooden steps, inferring a warning from Wanda's reprimanding side.
"Tommy, please don't run up the stairs, I already told you that"
But there is no answer to be heard – just the tiny sounds of fast footsteps to be perceived stepping away, towards the upper floor. Wanda blows out a helpless sigh, shaking her head in denial as she mutters silently under her breath.
"I swear, he's just like his mother..."
There is the squawk of a bird outside the house, along with the wheels of a car on the asphalt. Wanda flips the pancake again, and then another one after that, before feeling the tiniest touch of solemnity beside her hip and a pair of expectant little eyes looking at the contour of her jawbone, right next to her ear.
“Mama?” a tiny voice calls out to her, sounding uncertain and vulnerable at her core.
Wanda allows herself to smile with the corner of her pink lips, losing the focus placed on her blueberry pancakes as she turns to the boy.
It is Billy who catches her eye, holding the hem of her silk shirt between the tips of the small fingers of his right hand. He wears a jacket of roomy red, white, and blue stripes to his juvenile torso, and looks down at the floor beneath his sneakers when Wanda tries to make eye contact with those eyes inherited from her ex-wife's family, offering him an affectionate smile, showered with kindness.
“What is it, Billy?”
But there is a hesitation in the speech on the part of the boy, Wanda doesn't take long to verify this fact because she knows him so well, she just knows so much about him. And the little boy seems cornered, somewhat irresolute, in an internal conflict with his own efforts to say whatever it is he has to say (because he presses his lips together and doesn't sustain eye contact with his mother). Wanda just knows, at her heart, that something isn't right.
And then she squats down on her knees, lowering herself to a height where she and Billy would be eye level, and Wanda scans his childish face with her gaze in half a second – his eyes looking back at her, the hesitation in the midst of the darkness, the disinclination which he is no longer able to hide as much as his mother is interested in the cunning childish caution. She takes her lower lip in her mouth and opens and closes her eyes, expelling a gust of warm air through her nostrils.
The hard plastic spatula magically continues to flip and fry the pancakes in the pan, even when Wanda no longer does it directly.
“Baby, what is it? Did something happen?” Moving her fingers closer to her son, Wanda holds him so that she can take the contour of his small face between the palms of both hands.
"You know you can tell me anything, don't you, dear?"
“Can I” Billy limps in an ambiguous vagueness, supported by his mother's gaze, which in turn propels him an encouraging smile, “Can I stay home today, mama?”
Something in Wanda tinkles – but she knows she shouldn't show such sudden estrangement at the boy's request, even though she knows well that it's not like him to be the type who openly takes advantage of any possible loophole to be able to skip class. She just tilts her head to the side of her left shoulder, stroking the skin of her son's cheeks with both thumbs in a circle.
“Why, baby? You like going to school so much... Did something happen there? Did someone say something to you?”
“Uh, no, no one said anything… it's just that” Billy falters a bit in wavering hesitation, brow furrowed, and a flash of fur creased between his dark brows, “They think too loud, mama. And I can hear what they think... what they think of me. They think I'm different. They are afraid of me"
The distraught voice lectured her, a grim veil clouding his innocuous childish gaze, his small, dull face exhaling an air of embarrassment, melancholy weighing down on his thick lepidopteran lashes, both razor-edged eyebrows twisted in a caliginous way.
There's an excruciating moment of silence, supplanted by an aching feeling of Wanda's heart squeezing inside her chest; a troubled gaze spread across her emerald-green eyes.
She knows what it's like, hearing what they think so loud it sounds like screaming inside her head, feeling what they feel to the point of wanting to throw up. The fear. The disgust. And she only came to feel it when she was already a young woman somewhat older than her boy is, better able to deal with this avalanche of judgments that feel like mosquitoes buzzing around her brain.
But Billy is just so young, and so small.
She knows what they think, what they assume—the boys' mothers are gifted with superhuman abilities, and so will they someday. And it’s scary. Perhaps with Billy there is even more stigma; after all, he is a sweet child, quiet and careful, even a little shy – the kind of child Wanda herself once was also.
With a gulf of anguish regurgitating her stomach, the enchantress touches the scrawny left shoulder of the harried boy with the palm of her hand; a faint, complacent smile directed at her son.
“Oh baby, they just don't understand…they don't understand what you are. And sometimes some people are afraid of what they don't understand. I think it's part of human nature to be surprised by the different, and believe me, I know how it is... how difficult it is, to be different. I know"
“Mom told me that everyone is a little different” the boy carries himself in a downcast way, somewhat embarrassed, prompting a frown on the part of Wanda, who promptly gives him a curious look.
“But… but no one seems to like it when I'm different...”
And then, she presses her lips together in a line. There's a pile of forgotten pancakes by the now-off stove.
“I…I understand, Billy. I used to think about myself in a certain way too, but... I know I'm something else. And so are you, honey. But that doesn't mean that you and I aren't ourselves anymore, we just... have something different that makes us a little different from other people”
She sighs.
“Me, you, your mom and Tommy, we… we're different, but that's who we are. And I know this isn't what everyone sees, but... you're still you, Billy. You’re still my sweet, precious little boy. So it's okay to be different, because you'll always have us on your side, honey. We could never leave each other even if we tried. Do you know why?”
She questions, in soft tones of a warm, loving maternal touch.
“Because a family is forever?”
Wanda smiles, caressing the skin of Billy's cheek with the pad of her thumb.
"Yes, baby. A family is forever. You, Tommy, me and your mother will always be a family. Even if it's a family of a bunch of weirdos with superpowers” she adds in a chuckling tone, inferring, on the boy's part, in a warm little smile, “You don't have to be afraid to be different, honey. Stand your ground, be yourself, and the rest of the world can never touch you”
“Even if they are afraid of me?”
“You can't control their fear, Billy” she pats him on the cheek, “Only your own. And you should never be afraid to be who you are”
“Right” Billy smiles, and, as in an infectious spread of his childish alacrity, Wanda ends up doing it too, “I can’t be afraid of who I am”
"That's right, honey"
She then stands up and wraps her forearms around the boy's scrawny shoulders, pulling his small body close to hers, enveloping him in a loving embrace that is gladly accepted when Billy tucks his face into her chest.
Wanda had long ago retained his facial features in memory (the sharp eyebrows, the small nose, the strong cheekbones like hers), but the witch, however, still devoted herself to studying him just to see that the boy was real, and he was there, and he was hers to love and care for; just as she did also with his brother.
She therefore placed a chaste kiss on a beam of skin on his forehead, before arranging for the caresses between the strands of his short, light brown hair. He still gave off a pleasant baby smell.
“I love you, Billy. I love you and Tommy very, very much” she smiles, and so does he, “But now I need to go see why your brother is taking so long to pack his bag, because I don't trust him alone for more than ten minutes and it's been a while since he went up"
And Wanda isn't the least bit surprised to find Tommy finishing his homework five minutes later – even though it's only thirty minutes before school starts this morning.
The tenuous hands of the circular clock on the wall emit ticks, clicks, as they move to mark the time of little more than 2:22 on a particularly gray afternoon, with infinitesimal touches of an insistent spring chill taking care of your keen senses inside one of your many, many jackets - this particular one is made of a dark material, with fleece trimming around the collar.
You took a sip of warm coffee before you arrived, interspersed with a few puffs of smoked cigarettes, and you think about having another cup of the hot drink once this meeting finally comes to a very anticipated ending.
The wall on which the clock is located is far away, painted in bands of a pale yellow and navy blue, but even so, your eyes focus on that thin piece of red plastic turning, getting lost in seconds, marking the emptiness of your gaze in an absorbed hypnosis that turns your brain into a dysfunctional, vacant mass. Concentration dispenses with intrusive thoughts, and you don't want to think about anything right now.
Still, something inside of you wants to get up, march and go to the sign that says, in big white bold letters, “HOW TO GET BACK NOW THAT THEY ARE BACK?” and rip that damn thing off like you rip a band-aid off a well healed wound.
It sounds stupid being there. You feel stupid for being there. What’s the point of being there?
Your heel propels your right knee up and down in a continuous motion of tendons, like the fluttering wings of a stirring bee. Up. Down. Up. Down.
On the thick material of your jacket, close to your right lapel, is an inviting sticker announcing your name written in the glossy lines of a thick, red highlighter, but the ripple of feeling characterized by the features of your face is nothing short of inhospitable and even a little grumpy.
You know you don't want to be there. You want to get up and go out and smoke a cigarette until you choke on the smoke and develop asthma (or something among those lines, whatever, who cares).
Then your leg wobbles. And it wobbles. As if you were trying to soothe one of your children when they were still tiny little babies, rocking them sitting on the kneecap of your knee joint.
But in the closed circumference of aluminum chairs, with broken people all gathered in a circle like a bed of dead flowers, that's not the only tic to point out (since an older man keeps poking his restless fingers, and a short-haired woman just can't seem to get her hand off her neck).
Fucking therapy group, that's what goes through your head when your teased eyes scrutinize around, finding themselves with gazes as bewildered as yours, among the other taciturn and hollow phantoms that mark their place in the thin unfolded chairs.
Everyone here is also a fucked up, one way or another.
Your leg wobbles.
The drinking fountain placed in the corner of the room bubbles a lot, but in view of the fact that you already were there for a considerable amount of lengthy long minutes, which were very painful to expire at the meager speed of a lame turtle (causing, thus, in your resigned relinquishment of counting them inside your own head), frugally seated in an uncomfortable creaky metal chair and utterly saturated, bored to the limit in your imo, this was not the first time the bubbles had sailed with snoring noises of “blob-blob” by the iced water.
You sigh in defeat, shrugging your shoulders into the faux leather of your jacket that is a bigger size than you really are – since there's nothing else you can do about it, you just hope to be able to remain in silence until the end of the meeting. It just seems… pointless, in all your honesty.
It's not as if you have any real interest in the account of that bespectacled man, with thinning hair already giving indications of a coming baldness, who so heartily narrates, with an audible lump pressed down to his throat, of the day that some friend of his (or his boyfriend, you didn't pay close attention and honestly you don't have any disposition to do so) crumbled to dust before his eyes on a casual lunch date on the 7th Avenue.
Or about how that same boyfriend knocked on his door five years later, as if nothing had happened, only to find him married for two years to another man.
Your leg wobbles.
"It's... it's hard, to think that you've moved on, that... that it's okay, that you're okay" his nasal voice echoes through the vault of the school gymnasium.
"Only for it all to come crashing down again when you least wait. When you see someone, or smell an odor, or hear a sound and... and suddenly it's all back, right there in front of you. Like it's happening again and again and again and there’s nothing that you can do about it”
You, however, aim cowardly eyes at your own feet, at your favorite pair of threadbare white Converse sneakers with the baggy laces that Wanda scolded you now and then for failing to tie them properly.
You know all about the creeping flashbacks slinking through the cracks of your damned soul. And the nighttime torments are your most frequent roommates – the shadows of your sleepless nights echoed to your bedroom wall.
You then let out a languid yawn, weary, turning to the wall clock above the Midtown High School bulletin board (the Academic Decathlon Team had won nationals once again in Washington), reality slipping away from you, giving stage to the impertinent boredom watered by the purest monotony, devastating everything that is present in its field of reach.
Click, click, stop. Click, click, stop – makes the clock. Your leg wobbles. And wobbles. But it stops just as abruptly, once someone calls out your name.
You blink just one time.
“Y/N?” it's Dr. Raynor who catches your eye when you look airy and scattered, urging you to tilt your chin toward her.
The middle-aged, upright woman sitting parallel to you with her right knee crossed over her left thigh, exuding a kind of polished erudition that makes her look out of place in the circle of chairs, looking too sophisticated to sit there in the company of wretched souls like those half-a-dozen poor sufferers (you included), aims your way with her dismayed eyes, and there's even a shadow of cynicism in those dark irises like burnt coffee beans that squint toward you.
Something about her tough stance, however, hints at a certain militaristic past, and you kind of turn up your nose at such a notion about the therapist.
It only takes a second of staring into the vacant eyes of that tart-faced woman for you to feel the bitterness of regret take over the tightness in your aching stomach, and a kind of compunction sinks in your shoulders as you wonder why you ever even resorted to Bucky Barnes to get the war veteran to refer you to a suitable therapist in the first place.
Maybe the old bastard did it on purpose. But he's the one who's coping better after all, and not you by any means.
"Why don't you share something with the group, Y/N?" the tapered toe of her shoe points towards your left knee, “It's your first day, so we'd like to know a little more about you”
You feel eyes, a bunch of them, reorienting their route all towards you (focusing, emphasizing, gauging your own figure), and to you it's kind of like a trial where Dr. Raynor is your judge and jailer, just waiting for the moment to come for her to hit with the hammer, and then, be able to sentence you to death by hanging. To pay for your sins.
The fingers of your right hand press along the outline of your left palm. The incisors in your upper jaw chew and harm the soft flesh of your lower lip. Blood, they want your blood. May you pay for your sins.
There, in that linoleum-floored sports gymnasium, there is no caressing of a sincere reception, the good old heart-to-heart typical of suffering misfortunes that find reciprocity in the experience of similar tragedies; in fact it may even be, but it is not possible for you to feel supported and sheltered in the face of the paying victims of your fateful failure.
If they are there, conglomerated by melancholy, engaged by sadness, agonizing in regrets that seem impossible to overcome, it is because your actions have led to this inevitable unfolding of successive events.
Of course, everyone there knows your face from Twitter, from the news, Youtube videos, press conferences, magazine pages and the damn action figures who never quite got the color arrangement of your old black and white suit right (which is now battered and folded, with a hole in the abdomen, stuffed inside a cardboard box gathering dust at the bottom of your wardrobe).
J. Jonah Jameson once said live that you were just an irresponsible little girl who should be stopped and sent away. So, they know. And you know they know. It's your fault, after all.
All yours, solemnly yours, it’s your fault that their loved ones went back to dust, they know, they know that you failed, that you didn't stop it from happening, that you didn't jump into the abyss, that you didn't give your soul.
They know.
You clean the inside of your throat hard, swallowing a sip of still saliva as you do.
“I don't know if there's anything interesting that I can... that I can share, no,” you mutter thinly, noticing a dirt on the heel of your sneaker, “I've never done this before, so I'm not sure where to start, doc”
“How about why you decided to join us today? It's a good way to start, and then you can say more about your personal experience with what happened” a short pause, “If you feel comfortable doing so, of course”
She adds quickly, almost emulating some fortuitous tone of cynical kindness. There is a moment of hesitation, covered by uncertainty and even anguish.
You can lie. Maybe give them, the hungry wolves, a condensed version of the facts and then call it a day.
But there urges a sense of honesty within yourself, of not straying along the easy paths as you have been doing for so many years; not when your motivation to be there, in that chair, in that group, is your deep yearning to be the person to instill a sweet smile on Wanda's kissable lips one more time in her life. Of being a mother to Billy and Tommy again, and no longer an uncertain figure throughout their lives.
You want to give it a try. You need to give it a try. For them (your family), it's always for them.
“My… my ex-wife asked me to come over, honestly” is what comes out of your mouth after a few shots of a long silence, “I think everyone here knows who she is. Who we are... who we were. What were we doing back then”
Your leg swings again, in a spasm of restless muscle.
“I think I'm here because I want to get better for her. For our... for our children. They don't deserve the way I treated them after… after all this shit, no”
You press your lips together in a thin line.
“I know they needed me. That they needed me to be there, but… it was hard. After that everything was just so goddamn difficult. Wanda, the boys... they've been gone for far too long. And I stayed. I just... just got left behind. And it was like that too when my parents died, I know, I should have known how to deal with it by then, but… but my parents didn't die because of me. I wasn't the one driving that fucking truck that hit us at 75 miles per hour. But that day... that day I was there, and I... I…”
You shift uncomfortably against the icy chair and clear your throat to ward off the acidic tears that accumulate in small pools inside your eyes, intercrossing your forearms in front of your chest as you lean your spine against the aluminum backrest.
“Wanda went to therapy after she got back, but I just… stayed there. Still. Stagnant. Not doing a damn thing about all of this stuck in here, in me. Drinking myself to sleep and staying up late. I think I just- I just couldn't get back to normal, you know? Not like other people did. Like there's something wrong with my damn brain programming, I don't know. I could barely hear my children cry without wanting to cry along with them, I… I didn't think I was worthy of touching my wife anymore, I... I don't know. I don't know"
And the one who gets the stage to speak is taciturnity, cold and cutting like the edge of a dagger.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t know”
There's so much you want to say.
So much stuff that swells and bubbles to be regurgitated out of you. They are words that are watched over by the martyrdom of your chest, contained in your guts, in your bones, in your bloodstream. Compunction has become part of your genetics at this point, you can even feel it moving through your cells, proliferating through your system like the ramifications of a harmful disease.
You do want to talk. But you just don't speak.
What you actually do is get to your feet, stretching your knees into the comfortable material of your pale baggy jeans, and then turn on your heels toward the half-open double doors of the gym, head down towards the floor, and the shoulders retracted as the psychologist calls out your name.
The only noise that accompanies your movements is the soles of your sneakers against the linoleum floor, making rhythmic squeaking sounds as your gait takes on a running air.
And you walk, one knee after the other, in a dreadful stomping march to the chipped pavement, even as the dimness of a firm grip leaves you blind as it swathes your corneas, and deaf as it envelops your eardrums.
The unavoidable collapse that follows, like the ends of a tasteless piece, is like a bolt of lightning that discharges from the heavens at the top of your head seconds later – electricity running through your nerves, your tendons, your spastic muscles.
It takes approximately seven seconds for hyperventilation to take over.
And you squat down, with both your feet flat on the pavement, when the joints of your legs sag and falter like soft lemon jelly, because the air becomes thick and gritty and so strenuous to swallow into your bronchial tubes, and even as the tissue in your lungs inflates and deflates like shriveled bladders being squeezed by vigorous fists, there is not enough oxygen for the blood in your head to flow, and the nausea and dizziness that wash over you like waves become too much to bear alone.
Maybe that was what it felt like to swallow a bunch of razor blades. Your pharynx constricts until it takes on a shape similar to a crumpled sheet of paper, and dark flashes crisscross your field of vision as your senses derail and fail.
Your skin bristles. You try to suck in the air, to keep it to yourself within the pathways of your sweltering aching lungs, but nothing happens. Your collapsing muscles no longer respond to your will.
Stomach acid rises up your larynx and the taste are disgraceful when it slides across the face of your tongue, an acrimonious sourness that burns between your teeth and seems to want to escape amid your parched lips. You slam your eyelids together as your heart seems to throb, swell and compress in thunderous internal hammers against the bones of your rib cage.
It looks like you're going to have a heart attack and die right there. And it’s dreadful. Petrifying, even. And then you blink once. And then twice.
The smell of scorched earth hangs in the air like a fog based on terror and despair.
There is nothing in all the vast longitudinal footage comprised of tens of miles circuited to your surroundings that is not limited to ruins, or craters, or rubble.
Vibrant whirs of spaceships rip through the slate-gray skies, metal and technology gleaming every time the sun comes out in timid beams from behind the thick clouds of smoke that billow into the sky—and then screams, several of them, and explosions, and the characteristic shiver of shimmering magic comes from the vanguard of Kamar-Taj's resident sorcerers in their quilted brown robes.
There are hundreds of devoted souls going to war against Thanos' army (again).
The undaunted battalion of Wakandan soldiers wade through the ruins and force their way through the row of gruesome alien sentries, brandishing their spears and shields where their strength is most concentrated, honoring their king in a dialect you've never heard before.
From their shoulders hung cloaks and fur, embroidered with droplets of blood and sludge of freshly splatted clay. Long streaks of yellowish-orange blistering magic pour from the battlefield.
I don't want to be here, you think as your vision clears the image of a colossal Ant-Man in the distance, as the deifies esoteric figure of a goliath, delivering a stunning punch to a winged creature wearing plates of extraterrestrial mineral armor, your own suit feeling suddenly too tight around the neck contour for you to breath appropriately.
I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here.
Archers, spearmen, mages, heroes, mounted swordsmen and a hundred more warriors to command them. The palms of your hands squeezing your own temples, crushing your skull thorough your hairline, quelling skin between your bent fingers.
I don't want to be here. Thanos killed my kids and my wife and my friends and he's here and it’s my fault that he’s here and I'm going to fail again and I'm going to die and everyone’s going to die and it’s my fault, it is all my fault.
You don't remember that it was Wanda who found you, crouching and deplorable like a wounded animal, tearing up wails of treacherous anxiety in the middle of the battleground; your face was smeared with dirt, dust, tears and blood. She didn't say, but she could hear the turmoil of your fretful thoughts from afar, all the way across the combat zone.
“Y/N! Baby!” the voice sounded so buoyant, covering the roars of the war raging round about you.
You don't remember seeing her again, all beautiful and sweaty, after five years apart from her. You don’t recall that when Wanda cried out your name, you could barely trust your ears as you lifted your head and saw her there, your gorgeous wife standing before you again.
And then you sobbed harder, and the first thing you uttered towards Wanda (after approximately 1825 days - 43.800 hours - without seeing her) was a chorus of wails, a compilation of cries, thick tears running down the contour of your scrunched nose as she involved your quivering, dirt-spattered body against herself.
She kissed the top of your head and a beam of perspiring skin of your forehead over and over again, cuddling you close to her necessitous tight embrace, because before she turned to dust, she also thought you were going to die in her arms. Her long disheveled red hair was like a curtain that captured you inside it, a barrier between the two of you and the rest of the war that raged there, around you.
“You’re alive Y/N, ty zhiv, moya lyubovʹ” she muttered against your murky hairlocks, more to herself than to you to hear, “You’re alive, baby, you’re alive, you’re alive”
“S-sorry! Sorry! I'm sorry Wanda, I'm sorry, I'm sorry Wanda, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I’m so sorry"
But this you remember, nonetheless. Of disgrace and shame. Of exhilaration and desolation.
From breaking down and wailing, crying out her name, bursting into tears, squeezing the material of the long, tattered, crimson coat that roofed your wife's warm body through your eager fingers. Of squeezing her so hard, your knuckles turning white, as if again she would go up in a cloud of dust through your firm grip if you let her go one more time.
As if you could still lose her, even when she was there, as close to you as she was. As if your grasp was the only thing holding her back to material reality.
You had so much to say to her. So much to tell, so much to ask. But after five years, your initial reaction was to grab her sturdy forearms and ask for forgiveness like a drooling, out-of-control child. Like someone with a widowed heart. Like a second chance.
"Sorry! Sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Wanda, I’m so sorry!"
And she held you close because she cried too. Because for a moment she was sure that she had lost you. That you had bled to death on the ground, your eyes empty and icy, blood seeping from your broken lips, and she wasn't there to hold you when the life had completely drained from your wounded body.
“It’s okay baby, it’s okay, you’re here, you’re safe, I’m here with you dorogoya”
It certainly wasn't the first time you've shed guilty tears on Wanda's behalf, though. And, of course, that wouldn't be the last time either.
Although, at the beginning of the week, a wave of scarce chill had hit the northeast region of the country, it was enough for when Friday arrived, right after the end of the week, for the sinuosities of the heat to return to the spring calendar, and a sweltering climate face again.
Over the pleasant little town of Westview, then, hangs the celestial vault, dazzled by dusk, from which all twinkle, like vivid space fireflies, the antecedent stars of a new tomorrow which contingently would come to lean over the serene little town, situated to the Mid-Atlantic region of US New Jersey.
The warm climate of seven o'clock at night prompts Wanda, in her residence, to dress her body only in a light burgundy silk shirt, and nothing superimposed on this simple piece of clothing.
She had just had dinner (both Y/N and their twin sons claimed there was something peculiar about her macaroni and cheese), and so she was ready to do the dishes - living in a house with just her and two others little boys, there's not even an ample amount of cutlery and plates in her possession to enjoy over a meal restricted to three people.
The bell rings in sudden chimes into the house, however, and Wanda, halfway through sliding the bristles of a foamy brush in a clockwise direction across the face of a china plate, somewhat guided by curiosity to discover whoever was knocking at her door on a full Friday night, tries to quickly dry both hands on a dish towel after closing the sink's faucet, in order to head with cautious strides towards the main entrance.
Her two twin sons, both snuggled up on the linen sofa and with their respective backpacks looking like guard dogs at their post tucked close to their heels, glare at their mother with their smart gazes overwhelmed in interest as Wanda crosses the living room toward the front door.
“Who is it, mama?” Billy asks, looking at her over his small, withered shoulder, his voice echoing over the sound of a random cartoon.
“No idea” is the return that comes from Wanda, who slides both of her damp palms down the sides of her hip dressed in a pair of dark leggings.
Opening the door causes the boisterous night breeze to kiss the high, sharp cheekbones of her pretty cheeks— however, it’s the figure of a woman clad in a shabby leather jacket and baggy jeans, Y/N herself standing in her front porch, what really takes Wanda by surprise.
The mindful pair of clever eyes look at the deep emerald-green shade of her own irises in firsthand, gleaming in a ruddiness that glows expectantly, but then they scan the entire length of her body until, finally, they reach her hip height.
And then, they've doubled in size, and Wanda realizes that it's been a considerable amount of time since her ex-wife has seen her dressed in such tight clothing.
“Y/N...?” she raises a single eyebrow at the other woman who is there in her doorway, her hands tucked into both pockets of the jacket that adorns her body.
It's certainly not a face Wanda expected to see there that night (although, in her core, she knows it's a more than welcome sight, because she can actually feel her heart skipping a lot, abruptly fueled with energy as she does so, and her mouth kind of salivates a little bit).
“Uh, h-hey, hey Wanda” Y/N breaths then, looking lost in her own words. This time she doesn't smell like smoked cigarettes.
There isn’t, for Wanda, a way to not to feel her gaze scorching her considerably toned thighs, which, despite being covered by the dark elastane fabric, suddenly feel so exposed, as if what she was wearing there were just one of the miniskirts she loved so much when she younger.
There's a brief moment showered with tentative silence, at which Wanda can well hear Y/N gulp and shrug. She, in turn, crosses both arms along her rib cage, just below her breasts buttoned by her red shirt, and leans on her side against the doorjamb.
There is a failed attempt not to bring back to her memory the fact that a couple days ago, Y/N had her face sheltered between those same thighs that she stares at so carefully.
“So,” Wanda chirps after a hushed pause, distant cricket sonatas adorning her speech, “Can I… can I ask what you're doing here? I mean, I don't want to sound rude, but... you know...”
She shrugs a little awkwardly.
“Oh yeah, sure” and Y/N emits a husky sound, as if clearing her throat, “Well, you told me to pick up the boys for the weekend on Friday, and… today is Friday"
Wanda opens her mouth to speak, but then connects her lips again in a fine line. Y/N seems to have stated the obvious, but she still stares at her ex-wife as if waiting for her reaction.
“Y/N” she begins, pronouncing the name in a slow-sounding voice, “I told you to pick up the boys next Friday, not this. Today they are going to sleepover at a friend's house. You know, Dottie, from school”
Y/N blinks once, and then one more time in realization of the facts. And then, she raises both of her eyebrows in a half-funny awe.
“I- wait, really?!”
“Well, yes” Wanda nods her head in confirmation, even as she cages a spark of laughter in the back of her throat, “Actually, I was about to leave to drop them there”
“I, I- well shit, I was actually going to order hamburgers this time…”
And that's when Wanda can't help but chuckle softly, feeling her shoulders light up against the silk of her shirt as they sway subtly.
“You can tag along with us” Wanda proposes in a friendly and courteous tone of voice that portrays a smile, despite not having expressed it to her lips as she said, “If you want to, of course”
She adds quickly, almost like a thin squeak of a hesitant little mouse, eyeing her ex-wife in an expectant air – the fingers of her right hand hook uneasily through the fingers of her left hand as she does so.
And she doesn't know exactly why she'd offered it to Y/N, but something adorned by a rash itch inside her sort of wanted her to accept the proposal, like a fish accepting the bait of a hook. Wanda wants to hook her. She wants to hook her and keep her for herself.
And something even more urgent thumped in a throbbing gasp within her guts when it was that Y/N willingly nodded, nodding and a complacent half-smile broken at the corner of her lips, her hands still clasped inside her jacket pockets, sort of emulating a jock pose.
And something builds up inside Wanda for a third time, when the family of four finds themselves snugly secured by the seat belts of her car (a Buick Verano dyed in a can-of-tomato-sauce-red color that, in a way, goes well with her), the twins in the back and Y/N in the passenger seat, all neatly arranged in a homely and domestic way, performing with mastery the role of a well-structured family.
When, from the backseat, Tommy asked Wanda for a song and she promptly took her relaxed right index finger to press the digit on the little button that turns on the radio, only for the rustling sound that would encompass the interior of the vehicle to be the melody of an old alt rock song (a bit corny one), Y/N couldn't help but utter a hearty, nostalgic laugh as both boys grunted in tandem with the song's lyrics, and just as fast as she had done so before, Wanda quickly turned off the radio, feeling a flushed warmth heat her cheekbones and the tips of her ears.
She doesn't want to look the other way, at her ex-wife sitting close to the elbow on her right side. Wanda just wants to disappear in mortification.
She and Y/N used to have that same music as a soothing background for their late-night conversations in the compound, when the two of them, a couple of young girlfriends who could never get tired of each other, were just two bodies hugging and sweating against the rumpled sheets of her bed, the whole room smelling of sex and the red color – Deftones was definitely a band to listen to on pillowtalk… or at the heights of the passionate moans that would come after such pillowtalk.
“Ew, mama, what is this?” Tommy twists a beam of skin from his freckled little nose, and in the rearview mirror, Wanda sees Billy do the same in an expression of pure disgust.
“Wait, wait, wait, did your mama ever tell you guys about her goth phase?!” Y/N turns her chin over her left shoulder, flashing a smile cut in taunt mockery at which her voice sounds like a jocular laugh.
Wanda, on the other hand, grunts in embarrassment, squeezing the steering wheel material between her fingers. Maybe the boys wouldn't mind if she threw their mother through the windshield, after all.
The path back to the house had been solemn and, at Wanda's sheer request, you joined her in a romantic tasting of tea in the living room, having barely given up after the scorching mid-night that spills over Westview.
You didn't expect her to actually ask you to stay after you dropped the boys off at their friend's house (the little girl's mother, Sarah, certainly put an ulterior motive between you and Wanda, and your ex-wife swore her mouth to call her a bitch when it was just the two of you back inside her car), and you suspect she didn't expect you to accept the invitation either, because a veil of genuine astonishment fell over Wanda when you nodded with your head and smiled towards her.
(The initial invitation was for a glass of wine, but you said you were trying to avoid alcohol and Wanda apologized, and then the wine turned into tea which became a lame excuse for you to stay until after ten o'clock of the night)
The television which flickers, on its monochrome screen, a French film in black and white, is the only thing that fills the room with any kind of light or sound, as the two women, both seated well on the cushions of the dark sofa, say nothing more to each other (although a sudden abundance of coziness has surfaced in Wanda's exhilarating core, she who has her head bent dangerously close to her ex-wife's vigorous shoulder – her silky hair emanating a sweetened scent of strawberry shampoo).
You, however, roll on your axis in search of a comfortable position, and your elbow brushes lightly against Wanda's under the silk shirt, causing the two of you to look at each other curiously – two dark glances in the middle of the lighted room, only lit by the artificial lighting of a meaningless old romcom.
Wanda craves the comforting body heat radiating from you when as close to her as you are.
As much as you wanted to touch her, however, and felt your fingers tingling to do so; you, however, held the notion of the fact that between the two of you lay an invisible dividing veil, which neither of you would dare to cross a second time in such a short period of time.
And with that thought also tucked into her mind, Wanda chose to scoop more of her tea, enjoying the boiled hibiscus acrimony flavor that slides down the face of her tongue, between her teeth and the flesh of her cheeks. But she feels a gaze scrutinizing her from her jawline and cheekbones.
And you stare at her in ethereal devotion, simulating her gesture as she sips from the tea poured into her pretty china cup.
“So,” she calls, albeit from behind her teacup, “How's therapy going?”
You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue.
"Well, I've only been in one meeting so far... and I couldn't make it to the end" shrugging, you just know there's no need to withhold the facts, "I know I need to, and I swear that I will, but... it's hard to bring it all back. It's exhausting, exhausting as fuck. Honestly, I just want to lie down and not get up”
“I know,” she says, in a tiny, meaningful voice, “Yeah, I know how it feels”
And the air is kind of bitter, but you know toughness is needed. You know about the fact that you made mistakes with the woman sitting next to your right elbow, after all (grotesque and disproportionate mistakes), and from that you always understood very well.
But withholding awareness of your errands to those you've hurt and trying to repair what's been broken, that's kind of a fresh start that Wanda wants to see in you.
“But I'm trying, you see. For the boys, for... for you... I'm trying, Wanda. I'm trying to be better for you. Trying to take responsibility for my mistakes”
Something sparks inside Wanda, in hibiscus-tasting greed. And she looks at your face – and you just want to feel her close, all to yourself, comfortable in your needy grip. It scorched in will and greed sharpened through your veins. But all she does is just look for another sip of tea.
“I'm happy for you, Y/N. I really am. I know that it's easier to live in denial, that it feels more comfortable to stay in a melancholy state of mind, that... that acknowledging that you need help is difficult. I know it's hard, trust me" she half laughs, "I think I know better than most what self-deception looks like. And I know that someone can't live like that"
And then she looks at you, and you look at her.
“But you deserve to allow yourself to heal, Y/N. Not for me or the boys, but mostly for you. You deserve more, much more than that. You deserve to heal” and then, a vague hesitation, “Because it's when you heal that I'll forgive you”
And the silence is tiny, but it lasts for a considerable amount of needy seconds. Someone laughs greedily in the movie on television, a plastered, off-air laugh, but you didn't pay any attention to the joke – not when Wanda is next to you, when you want that woman so much that your veins throb inside your skin just for you to take her for yourself.
And when she stands up, the linen on the sofa moving next to her body to do so, your gaze follows her closely, attentive, watching her make her way to the kitchen, whereupon Wanda heads towards a new round of hibiscus tea.
Her dark hair looks silkier than usual, and you want to run your fingers through the locks just to feel, between your avid digits, the softness that oozes from Wanda's head. To make sure that touching them one more time would be like reeling in a dark puddle from the source of your greatest victory, your greatest pleasure in life.
Then you get to your feet, stretching your knees out into your baggy old light blue jeans.
And as if a red leash is constricted around the outline of your neck and Wanda is the one holding the rein, pulling and squeezing until the blood rushes to your head, towing you around like her pet, you are magnetized towards the throbbing figure of your ex-wife – as if you might choke and suffocate if you didn't breathe from the scarlet oxygen molecules that evaporate so subtly through the pores of her skin.
You need her to fill your lungs, to quench your thirst, to teach you to breathe again.
And your fingers throb in anticipation as she turns and looks at you, standing there, in the middle of her kitchen, in the middle of the night; both of her irises drenched in a sharp shade of moss-green, her pupils dilated like two abyssal puddles you want to sink into, as if you're on the edge and need just one last incentive to give yourself away once and for all; her chest heaving weighty like an animal in confrontation mode.
And it doesn't surprise you, in fact, when the proficient witch stomps toward you and takes your face between her warm palms, grabbing the bones of your jaw to pull you into a needy kiss.
When your lips clash your obsession explodes inside your chest, as if your mind bends to Wanda's will; she who invades your senses with a deluge of scarlet liquid and usurps your essence, your soul, your heart.
You know you are as devoted to this woman as a believer is devoted to their god. That she is purely your religion and your belief, that her body is the reason for your idolatry.
Gradually, you obtained urgency to overcome the slowness, and rudeness took precedence over the elegance imbued in the act. The kiss is transmuted into something visceral and animalistic, primordial, just bodies lacking the warmth of flesh or the robustness of touch; a throbbing knot at the mouth of both of you bellies just waiting to be undone.
As if in a rehearsed ceremony, you run your hands over Wanda's thighs and evenly spaced knees, and she, in return, links the folds of her elbows to the outline of your neck, placing herself on your lap, belly to belly. Soon, a sly pink tongue slips back into her mouth in search of what is hers, expert and needy.
And then, a strong, powerful touch, palms wide open and pressed to the curve of Wanda's round ass over dark leggings, which elicits an ambrosial groan from her as you sit her on the kitchen table, rising from her heels, standing through her open legs.
And you dive towards her mouth again, being welcomed like a welcome hug.
You feel a warm forehead press to your pale skin band above your eyebrows. And you and Wanda open your eyelids at the same time – pupils dilated and not at all confused. You feel like two animals mating, studying, seeing who will devour the other first.
Dark strands like charcoal strumming against the material of your jacket that feels just so hot against your smoldering body.
Shedding with the tips of her cut nails along the line of your neck, Wanda, then morosely, slides her spandex-covered thighs across the accentuated bones of your hips, placing herself tucked beneath your navel—your legs bent, her heels rubbing against the jeans you wear.
Her gaze sharp and shadowed with impetuosity as you feel the familiar flicker of a crimson nebula caressing her mound of Venus, and Wanda's half-open mouth (parted lips gasping) projects a sly little grin at which she zippers your pants drop slowly, circled by a thread of intangible red.
In the green of her irises a haze of scarlet mist is traced and, like fire in a straw, it only takes a second for there to be no more trace of emerald in her eyes; red drowns green within its wall of vivid fire, red intoxicates you, red touches you where you urge to be touched.
“Wanda”
You mumble breathlessly, your breath hot against the pulp of her lips, her hand tucked inside your pants, fingers caressing you, your hips rocking in a friction against the tense lap below you.
“Wanda, Wanda please..."
“It’s okay, baby” the speech overflows in ecstasy, pure and high.
Expectantly, Wanda threads the sides of your hips with the insides of her thighs, searching for something only you can give her, her forehead pressed to yours.
“It’s okay, baby, you deserve this”
There's a hot touch on your clit and then you whimper in labored need, a whoosh of hot breath hitting your ex-wife's lower lip, a friction of your restrained hip rubbing against her nervous pelvis, looking out for each other.
Wanda's greedy nose drifts toward the curve of your neck, below your ear, and there she sucks between her lips a shaft of skin she could bite and nibble on.
The massage is continuous against your pleasure core, and the return comes in the form of suction, and then the flick of the cheek of Wanda's tongue against your stinging skin. On your part, a hollow groan implodes.
"F-fuck, fuck me, Wanda..."
“Shit, baby, you're so wet” she chokes against your mouth, “So tight Y/N…”
Wanda's cunning fingertips settle to your needy clit and then decline at your entrance in an idolatry-soaked endeavor, a continual action that brings out the nastiest, baser, animalistic side of you, who doesn't give a damn about the trouble of suppressing the yelps in your throat.
It's so raw, hot and visceral, so human, that you even seem to be able to cry while Wanda fucks you fervently on that table. There's something in you that needs her – you need her to untie the knot, to touch you in that place only she can touch.
Your clever hands run along the contours of Wanda's body through the fine silk of her thin shirt, which you don't take long to break the fastenings, buttons exploding like projectiles in all directions, so you can clear a path and then cover the pale skin of her neck with your own lips, brushing a lot of lethargic kisses and licks over her sensitive epidermis.
And then another finger appears. And followed by this, another one. Slipping, exploring and filling your embers inside. Stretching it, enlarging it and softening it.
You want to explode in red (so little is missing). Before you can squeal (the frayed lungs sparking to do so), another hand wraps itself around your neck, a stinging palm choking the yelp back into your throat. Your brow furrows and your eyes narrow as your inner walls press Wanda's fingers inside your cunt.
“You're close, aren't you? Huh?” The fingers curled inside you, coercing a ragged response from you. You nod fervently in affirmation.
“Y-yes, God, Wanda, please-!”
Her eyes flicker a maniacal crimson as she looks into your eyes, into your soul. And then she kisses you hard.
“Come, love” is ordered, in a mixture of moans and saliva on the pulp of her lips, “Come on my fingers, Y/N”
 Like a spell, you do as she says.
As if your lover's oratory alone was enough to untie the knot of your lonely ecstasy, plaited all below your navel. Dark irises in smoldering glee dipped to the waterlines of your eyes, and a red haze, in delight, swamped your insides, pouring from your pulsing center the sweetest honey through Wanda's fist, imprisoned inside your lowered jeans.
So she kisses you where she can, as she can – in a thread at the tip of your brow, in the crimson cheekbone of your Apollonian cheek, in the corner of your sweet lips, in the curve of your tasteless chin. Your head drops to Wanda's shoulder, still drunk from the high of your climax. You can barely tell when the enchantress withdrew from your, only to bring her fingers to her lips, and taste your ether, your cum, with a shocked whisper in acknowledgment.
It took seconds for you to recover from the jolt of the powerful orgasm that washed over your pulsing core.
“You still taste the same” Wanda kisses a swath of sweaty skin above your brow, “So hot”
And then you stick your greedy nose into the curve of her pale, inviting neck, between a few strands of dark hair artificially smelling of strawberries, inhaling there the hallucinatory scent of Wanda's vegetable soap.
“Fuck, I love your smell. I fucking love your smell, Wanda”
And then, a new pressure blooms between your legs.
And it doesn't surprise you to see that there, by magic, a red phallus of considerable thickness and just the right length for Wanda to take was deposited around your pulsating clit. You know what she wants, and you feel ready to give it to her. You look at her as, without a word, you move your hips toward her, touching the tip of the silicone cock to Wanda the way you know she likes it, and you sip from the soft moan that bursts out of her.
“I want to feel you” she breathes, looking profoundly into your eyes as she does, “I want to feel your cock deep inside my pussy. I want you to tear me apart, Y/N”
Something inside you snaps. You then share a throbbing mouth moan, closed eyelids that keep dark and empty pupils, brows crumpled between the foreheads.
And then your hips begin its avid, pleasurable work, up and down, stimulating the nerve point deep within your ex-wife's thighs. Wanda is just a sweaty mess flanked by moans and rambling words; and pleasure, in its sweetest, purest, most genuine form, gnaws at your insides and demands more of you than you could ever imagine - a constriction in her womb that only you can touch.
Your ex-wife kisses you on the corner of your mouth, a flash of skin on your chin, the bone at the tip of your jaw - a lacked ecstasy compels you to collide with the pulps of her lips out of necessity, even if it is without the presence of tongues and an act much more carnal and rudimentary than it needs to be, so that the friction against her nervous lap never stops.
Her bundle of nerves is massaged, and as a result, Wanda squirms in between your legs.
“If you don't take those fucking pants off right now” you gasp against her ear, “I'm going to rip them off you”
“Y-yes” she pleads hoarsely. A haze of red is all it takes for the material of the pants to come undone, giving you access to Wanda's throbbing center.
"If you only knew... If you only knew how much I want to fuck you..."
You snake the smoldering tips of your fingers over the ruffled skin of the cool body below you, feeling the other woman's heavy breathing, drifting through the gap between her lovely breasts to her eager belly, leaving a hot trail of anticipation in its wake.
“How much I miss fucking you, and having to stifle your moans with my hand so you don't wake the boys... turn around, Wanda. Ass up”
And she does so without hesitation, her legs trembling in anticipation as her fingers pinch the edges of the table, and on the part of the experienced witch cringes a yelp as you squeeze between your palms both the pulps of her ass, massaging the soft skin, and carefully guides the toy to the entrance of the rosy, sensitive pussy, drawing from both parties a deep satisfying grunt as your fake cock comes into contact with the dark-haired woman's melancholic wetness in a burning, necessary and deliciously satisfying heat.
Still without penetrating her, however, prolonging your lover's preliminary pleasure as much as possible, you guide the length of the phallus to Wanda's swollen clit, masturbating her with the tip of your cock - and as you do, you take your skittish teeth to the curve of her pale neck with a faint scent of red, strawberry and sweat, where you began to pamper her bare skin with kisses and meticulous licks.
“Y/N please” she whimpers, quivering her ass in search of needy contact, “Please fuck me, please, ah-!”
Grinning hungrily against the bristly skin of her ivory neck, your teeth scraping the battered, reddened skin, you shove yourself against Wanda's wet, burning insides, which immediately spread a comforting sensation in her belly, complaining a small, barely audible “Fuck” out of her nose as you sink deeper and deeper into this delicious grip of delirious pleasure.
Wanda moans during penetration, throwing her head back dramatically, giving access to her throat for you, who cover it with kisses that leave her pale skin feeling feverishly warm. When you go all the way in, there's a needy squeal, and the television goes off-air—smell of sex and the color red oozing from her cunt.
“You're still so tight, damn it, Wanda,” your fingers tug at her scalp as, unceremoniously, you start a frantic rhythm against her ass, “I really missed your pussy squeezing me”
“Ah-ah-Y/N!” it was a squeaky grunt, her forehead against the wood of the table, “Glubže, malyshka, bystreye- faster- ah! Ah!”
The table rocks as you hit her cervix. The sound is of furniture creaking, and something in you roars. You love it. You love turning Wanda into a sweaty mess, filling her inside inch by inch, claiming her as your own, making her feel full of life.
As she leans on her elbows across the table and lifts her chest with heavy breaths, her hair being pulled toward you as she moans into her wet, nibbled lips, the brown locks covering her face like a dark veil, her breasts swaying at the same rate as the table legs scrape the floor and you sink deeper and deeper into it, she moans in pleasure like a needy beast.
“I bet you missed that too, huh?” you gasp, still keeping the steady rhythm of your strong hips against Wanda's, all the way inside her walls, “Someone to fuck you the way I know you like”
"Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes...!"
She takes her right hand back and grabs your forearm that holds her waist.
When she looks at you over her shoulder, you groan; at the sight of her drawn cheek rubbing against the wood of the table, the hollow of skin against skin echoing off the kitchen walls for a good few minutes now, you swaying your hips against Wanda's, taking distance as you move in and out of the warm embrace around her wet cunt, thrusting with the true intention of destroying her from within, taking her to heaven and hell if need to be done.
You bite your bottom lip, feeling your skein of orgasm begin to be woven in the pit of your belly.
“Wanda, fuck,” you curse into her name, sticking your nose into the crook of her pale neck with a faint scent of sweat, your hips fast, sloppy, in an unstoppable beat against her skin, “Wanda, Wanda, fuck, Wanda!”
“Faster, baby! Don't- don't stop- don’t stop- ah!” you do as she says, again.
You alternate between slow and fast, deep, precise movements, causing your ex-wife's eyes contorted beneath you to roll in their sockets, her chest being unconsciously thrust forward, brushing her nipples against the silk of her open shirt on the wood under her moving torso.
Her body suddenly stiffens, and her neatly trimmed nails dig into the edges of the table; around the crimson material of your cock, a hot, viscous membrane leach up the erect length. And you feel the same trickle down between your thighs, as a yelp erupts from your ex-wife and a scarlet fever haze slams every window in the house in a harmony of hollow beats that build on Wanda's scream.
With the enchantress panting and limp as a jelly, that was the confirmation that, in a cloud of pleasure, the woman reached her apex, melting into the erotic red haze that clouded her dark eyes. You, panting, get the toy out of her insides; the shiny liquid glistens around your cock, and Wanda squeals even feeling the sudden lack of you inside her.
The living room window is cracked. The table can disassemble at any second. Wanda's neck looks like a galaxy of bruises, and her waist and buttocks are groped with red handprints that aren't going away anytime soon. The crotch of your jeans is stained with your pleasure and hers. And then she looks over her shoulder at you, the two of you still panting like two ecstatic animals.
She looks deliciously worn and messy, and you feel a new sting dulling below your belly button as you realize just how much natural juices trickle out of Wanda's abused pussy.
“So,” you gasp, brushing a strand of damp hair out of your face, “This…this is starting to become a thing, huh…?”
"Y-yeah..."
Your cum leaks out of her and drips onto the floor between your feet.
《《《《《《《ᱬ》》》》》》》
taglist: @diaryoflife, @iliketozoneout, @raqelacevedo, @wizardofstories, @wlwfanfictionss, @wandsmxmff, @whhyyynotttttt, @sayah13, @when-wolves-howl
i wrote porn lol
616 notes · View notes
themidnightcrimson · 1 year
Text
Cumslut. | w. maximoff
Tumblr media
summary: in which a cozy night in bed turns into wanda turning you into her needy cumslut.
warnings: top!wanda, cumstrap (r receiving), magically enhanced strap, breeding kink, cum kink, size kink, teasing, jealousy, kissing, breast play, grey sweatpants + strap = horknee, i need wanda to turn me into her personal toaster strudle rn, petition to be wanda's twinkie
this post is for 18+ only. minors: do not interact.
masterlist.
Tumblr media
The movie was only halfway over when your phone that was sat on the nightstand lit up in your dark bedroom. Glancing over at the nightstand, you slid out of Wanda’s arms to reach past the now empty popcorn bowl and grab your phone.
As you leaned back into Wanda’s arm, which was slung across your pillow behind you, you could feel jade eyes staring past your shoulder as you checked the text message you had received from Nat.
Wanna come over? Maria brought drinks ;)
You and Wanda had spent the night cuddled up in bed watching movies, which was your usual nighttime routine on the weekends. While you sometimes felt left out as your friends went out and drank and partied without you, you cherished every cozy moment with Wanda—her arm cradling your back, your legs tangled together under the warm, fluffy blanket she had draped over the two of you.
Feeling a hand squeeze your waist, you looked up to your redhead girlfriend. As the light from the TV illuminated her beautiful face that was close to yours, she gave you a sort of knowing look. “I thought we were staying in tonight,” her smooth voice said in a quiet, indiscernible tone. Her fingers were digging into your waist, and you knew it wasn’t to purposefully intimidate you but rather because Wanda was not fond of changing plans, especially when the original plan was for you to be with her for the night.
You glanced back at the text message and weighed the decision of how to reply. Before you could even text Nat and tell her you couldn’t come, your phone screen suddenly went black in your hands. Surprised, you looked to Wanda and caught a discreet red glow slipping from her irises and a tiny smirk tugging at her lips.
“I was going to say no,” you reprimanded her for locking your phone, tilting your head at her with a playful smile.
Suddenly, Wanda shifted under your shared blanket, turning to her side to dig her knees between yours, forcing your legs open before she was suddenly hovering over you, which caused the blanket to lift and let in colder air that made you shiver. You let your head lay back on the pillow as Wanda gently took the phone from your hands and placed it face-down on the nightstand, the ends of her soft hair tickling your neck as you stared up at her eyes, darkened by the low light of the room.
“I don’t like how they try to pull you away from me,” Wanda mumbled as her hands slid down your body, grabbing at your waist. “Is it so bad to want you all to myself?”
You felt a blossom of warmth flutter over your face at her words. While it was true that you missed your friends sometimes, the way Wanda desperately wanted every minute of your time and every ounce of your attention was, truthfully, endearing.
“I think you need to learn to share,” you teased her, bringing your hand to her cheek and cupping it. She leaned into your touch, her eyebrows deviously lowering in reaction to your comment that tantalized her.
“I don’t like sharing you with others,” she argued, a rasp in her voice as her cheek grazed past your face to nuzzle into your neck. She rubbed her nose against your skin, moving your hair out of the way before you felt her cupid lips press a soft kiss on your perfumed skin. Your eyelids fell closed as you felt your girlfriend give you kisses that weighed like feathers on your skin. She devoted several moments to each singular kiss, truly taking her time in buttering you up so you wouldn’t be angry at her for being possessive.
As your hands slipped under her large t-shirt to slide up the bare expanse of her back, you could feel how tense her muscles were at first until they melted under the trail of your touch. Wanda sighed into your neck, the warm air tickling your skin. “You know that I’m all yours,” you whispered, turning your lips to her ear so she could hear you clearly.
Wanda hummed, her hands on your waist tightening. You knew how much she loved it when you said that. She loved when you assured her that you belonged to her—your mind, your heart, and your body. Wanda was a fiercely possessive woman, and tending to her territorial fire was pleasing to the both of you.
Still, she liked to test you as much as you liked to test her. “Prove it,” she mumbled against your ear, punctuating her sentence with a sloppy bite to your jaw. Your body arched when you felt her teeth scrape your jaw, fingers pressing into her lower back.
“Prove it for me,” you countered before you raised your knees to lock around her hips, ankles hooking at her back and poking through the blanket which threatened to fall and reveal your bodies beneath it. You bucked your hips upwards and felt exactly what you assumed was already there—the bulge of her strap through her pants. When you rubbed your crotch against her, you grinned in delight as Wanda groaned and pressed her bulge hard into you, her hands now bruising your waist.
“Are you sure you can handle that?” Wanda asked, coming up from your neck to smirk at you. She tilted her head, eyes twinkling with lust as her teeth pierced her lower lip.
You smiled and grabbed her face as you kept grinding yourself against her crotch, watching the way her lip turned whiter as she bit harder into it. You knew she’d enhanced the strap so that she could feel every bit of it as she swelled against you.
“What?” you asked, feigning innocence, “That I can handle your big cock in my tight pussy?”
Her hands swiftly moved to the hem of your pants and grabbed hard at them. “Stop it, or I will fuck you right now,” she husked, rolling her hips hard into you, the friction against your clit causing you to gasp.
“That’s exactly what I want,” you whispered, letting your fingers comb into her locks of hair. Wanda’s lips twitched in a smirk before she smashed them against yours in a bruising kiss. Your breaths collided against each other as she devoured your lips sloppily, her tongue slipping through your open mouth and settling across your own. She groaned at the taste of you as her tongue fought with your own, and when she finally pulled away to breathe, you could feel her saliva coating your lips. Pressure filled your lips as they started to swell from the force of the kiss, and heat seeped through your entire face.
Wanda grabbed at your shirt and tugged it as she panted. “I want this off.”
“Then take it off,” you bit back with a grin, to which Wanda gave a warning look before tearing the shirt over your head. You weren’t expecting her to instantly reconnect the kiss as her hands grabbed at your tits.
You gasped against Wanda’s lips as her fingers pinched at your nipples before rubbing them, the action causing your panties to moisten. She kept pressing her strap hard against you, and you were starting to grow frustrated at the barrier of clothing between you.
Slipping your hands from her hair to her hips, you pulled at the string of her sweatpants and felt it fall undone against your lower stomach. As you started trying to push her pants down, Wanda helped by reluctantly moving her hands away from where they were enjoying your hardened nipples to pull her sweatpants down. As she tugged her ankles out of the pants, you took the opportunity to pull her shirt over her head.
Her breasts bounced when the shirt squeezed over them and then released them, and your hands instinctively grabbed them as Wanda smirked at you. Your eyes fell down to her large maroon strap where the tip was already glistening. The sight of it made your mouth water, and you reached down to grab it, stroking the shaft and watching the way Wanda’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling. When her eyes opened again, they were three times darker, and she snatched your hand away and pressed it above your head, leaning down closer to you to give you another searing kiss that left your lips wet.
“Wanda,” you groaned, the itch between your legs growing too fierce. You ached for your thighs to be freed from your pants, and Wanda was eager to help, ripping your pants off your legs as the blanket finally fell off her and landed in a pile on the bed.
“Fuck,” Wanda breathed when she spread your thighs between her hips and saw the wet patch that had accumulated on your thin panties. She brought her fingers to the spot and rubbed it, the almost direct touch causing you to squirm.
“Please,” you begged, grabbing at the sheets. Wanda had riled you up so much that you were desperate for her to quell the fire between your legs, desperate for her to ruin you and claim you as hers. You both had forgotten about the TV still on in the background, and it remained outside of your focus as Wanda gently tugged your panties off.
“Holy shit, baby,” Wanda gasped when she saw just how wet you were, groaning when she cupped your pussy and let her fingers swim in your folds. You could even hear how wet you were as she spread your lips apart, the sound causing your cheeks to flush bright red.
Wanda’s fingers went to your clit and massaged it in slow circles, her eyes darkly watching the way your pink, swollen mouth fell open in pleasure. Her other hand went to her cock to stroke it, only adding to your flames of desire as she touched herself.
“Wanda, please,” you begged, her fingers on your clit not adding relief but rather tightening the pressured need within you. You desperately needed her inside you, your walls tensing and hole aching for her.
Wanda loved the way she had shaved you down from being a tease to being so needy for her. When you tried to close your thighs around her hand, she pushed them back open again and hooked them around her hips. “Please what, baby?” she teased as she scooted closer between your legs and rested her cock on your mound.
Whining, you bucked your hips upwards in search for her cock, but her hand on your hipbones pressed you flat against the bed. “Please, fuck me,” you whined, reaching out to grab at her shoulders.
Wanda was also getting antsy with the way you were squirming and whining for her, your pussy visibly getting wetter by the second. You almost cried in relief when she lowered her cock to between your legs but let out a frustrated moan when she started to rub her length up your slit. Wanda groaned loudly at the feeling, fingernails digging into your hipbones as she fucked herself between your folds but refrained from going inside you.
“Wanda, please—inside,” you ordered, tugging at her hair.
“Inside?” she mocked, and suddenly you felt the tip of her cock slip inside you, burying herself halfway in. “Like this?” You let out a guttural moan, your walls already trying to suck her in deeper as you relished in the incredibly brief relief before she quickly pulled back out. “Not yet, babygirl.”
You were close to crying when she went back to sliding her cock between your wet folds, your hands grabbing desperately at her arms as you tried to make out the words to beg her to go inside but failed to string them together. Wanda took your hands away from her and held them at your sides as she thrust her hips gently, panting at the feeling of your soft folds wetting her cock.
“Be a good girl and let me cum first,” she breathed huskily. While the thought of letting her use you to cum first made you melt inside, you were so desperate for her.
Her tip repeatedly pushed against your clit, bringing you a mixture of pleasure and painful need. You even tried bucking your hips, but Wanda pressed them down again, forcing you to stay still as she watched the way her cock would disappear deep in your folds before the tip appeared again right above your clit. Her length was entirely wettened now, along with the sheets below as your wetness dripped into a puddle on them. The sounds that your pussy made as she tortured it were sinful to you, but they were music to Wanda’s ears. Her thrusts were getting sloppier as her breathing grew heavier, and you watched the glorious sight of Wanda, eyes trained on the delicious sight below her, bordering the edge of climax.
“Oh, fuck,” she groaned, jade irises disappearing as she squeezed her eyes shut. You whined in need as she nearly accidentally slipped inside you from her sloppy movements, until finally she came, her strap twitching as ropes of her cum spurted onto your lower stomach, another load spurting right against your slit. “Fuckkkk,” she breathed as her hips stuttered a few more times before she stilled, catching her breath to look at the glorious sight she had made of you.
Her warm cum was splattered across the smooth expanse of your lower belly, and the rest of it was oozing down your pussy. You felt ravenous at this point, watching her behold you with such lust-filled eyes.
Wanda wanted to reach out and spread her cum around your tummy, but it was such a perfect sight that she didn’t want to ruin. “Look at you, my little cumslut,” she husked, smirking at the way you stared at her shyly, although your pupils were still crazed with desire.
“Please,” you faintly begged again, throbbing to the point of pain. You needed her so badly now more than ever, and your eyes glistened over as tears rapidly filled them.
Wanda pouted mockingly at you as she cupped your face and used her thumb to wipe away a tear that fell down your scorching cheeks. “Tell me you’re my cumslut, and I’ll give you what you want.”
You smoldered under her, fingers tremblingly grabbing her upper arms. “I’m your cumslut,” you pleaded, repeating it again as Wanda smiled satisfactorily and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. Without breaking the kiss, she guided her cock to your entrance and slammed her entire length inside you.
You cried out in a mixture of relief and pain as she bottomed out inside you. You weren’t lying when you mentioned your tightness to her earlier, for your walls squeezed around her girth as she buried herself deep inside you.
Wanda cursed under her breath as she started to pound into you, the bed shaking from her force. “God, I love your pussy,” she moaned, glancing down to watch the way she disappeared inside you, your pussy squelching from your own wetness and her cum that glistened on your outer folds. Thanks to her magic, her endurance hadn’t faltered since her first climax, and she could already feel herself getting close again as she hammered into your cunt.
“Wanda,” you whined, the heat in your veins nearly unbearable as you grabbed onto her desperately, as if you would fall into the void without her clutch. Wanda slipped her hands under you to squeeze your ass as she fucked you, your legs hooked under her arms.
“You gonna take my cum inside you like a good cumslut?” she whispered against your lips as she nipped at them, although you were too far gone to kiss back.
You nodded, making some incoherent noise of confirmation as her cock hit your sweet spot repeatedly. The blissful stretch of your hole around her was driving you close to the edge, and when she reached down and started to rub your clit, her other hand still grabbing your ass, it was all too much for you to bear. The bed shook from how hard Wanda fucked you, her moans mixing with yours as she started to come closer. Your walls throbbing and clenching around her was forcing her to use all her strength to keep herself from climaxing before you did.
“Fuck, Wanda,” you cursed as the pressure in your lower tummy started to crack and break, and in another few moments you came undone around her cock, your back arching off the bed as powerful waves of orgasm crashed down on you.
The sensation of your climax was enough for Wanda to be unable to hold back anymore, and she came, shooting a thick load of her cum deep inside you as she buried her face in your neck. Your climax doubled from the feeling, your nails scratching helplessly at Wanda’s back as she ruined you. Her moans came hot and loud against your ear, and you felt blind and deaf as you started to come down from your high. You were blissed out and entirely filled up that you didn’t even notice Wanda move her face out from your neck and stare down at you, watching as your eyes remained closed and your breaths came heavy through your parted lips.
She kept herself inside you for a few moments before she pulled out, which stirred your eyes open. She hummed at the sight of your pussy, coated in her cum as the rest she had planted inside you started to ooze out of your stretched hole. Her cum on your stomach had smeared from her pressing herself against you at some point, but you still looked so fucking perfect as her cumslut.
“Such a good girl for taking my cum,” Wanda purred, stroking your face and pressing a kiss to your hot forehead. You hummed and nuzzled into her touch, to which she smiled softly. “This was much better than going out with those friends of yours, hm?”
1K notes · View notes
xxxdreamscapexxx · 2 months
Text
A night full of surprises
Tumblr media
Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Word count: 7.5k
Summary: This is a request I got and started to write on the 6th of June 2023 (yes, I know, this took me a while). I can't even find it in my asks anymore, but I have the author's decription copied, and it should be enough, so here it is:
"I'm thinking manipulative wanda being overly obsessed with reader to the point where she always calls you earlier than she has to leave for work so she can spend more time with you. She'll run her hands on your arms and sometimes rest her palm on your thigh while asking you difficult questions just to see you squirm beneath her presence. R on the other hand will feel very shy and intimidated by her. But there's also this attraction she kept pushing down because she has to be professional and is extremely scared that wanda will know about it and stop letting R babysit anymore, which also leads to her not seeing the middle aged woman again. But of course, being wanda, she knows exactly what R was feeling. By the way R squeezes her thighs, blush, and stutter, it doesn't have to take a mind reader to know. But one thing R didn't know about wanda is she can be impatient. She's wanted you for a long time, watched the way you'd wet yourself in front of her. Time will come where she would want a taste, where she'd take whatever is hers. After all, she's earned it for making R feel that way, right? So take she does and claim she will. And what a sweet, sweet R as reward could be..."
Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, oral, fingering, finger sucking, strap-on sex, R has a bit of an oral fixation, tribbing, overstimulation, Wanda being pervy, top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader
Masterlist with all my works.
Wanda loved watching you through your windows. She did it more often than she should, more often than it was appropriate for a woman like her, but she didn’t care. She hardly cared if neighbours saw her sneaking glances, or peaked through the windows whenever you were visible. As long as you didn’t know of her secret activities, everything else was inconsequential.
She adored to see you read your books, looking effortlessly beautiful on your recliner, waves of your hair falling around your face. She loved to see you retrieving your mail, or do some small things around the yard, dressed casually. She never missed the days when you went out, loving to see you all dolled up. On those occasions she liked to watch you and imagine that you did it all for her. That you’d put on your outfit to impress her, the make-up flawless, because you wanted to look nice for her. Not that she ever thought you needed all that. You were already perfect. But it made pride bloom in her chest to imagine, even for a bit, that you made the effort just for her.
Those were, of course, perfectly normal occasions, when she could see you. Then again, Wanda could never be satisfied with just that. She needed all of you, she craved you, she fantasized about you… She was obsessed. She felt a hunger so profound that she had to resort to more devious ways of seeing you.
Of course, inserting herself into your life wasn’t hard. She found a casual moment to meet you, introducing herself with a charming smile, then she invited you over to her house, just for coffee, finding ways to bond through mutual interests, she made sure to introduce you to her kids, her eyes sparkling at how quickly they grew to like you… It was easy, honestly. Before you knew it, she’d asked you for a favour, watching the boys for a couple of hours. A favour that grew into more of a non-committed babysitting arrangement.
That’s how Wanda learned about your schedule, about your job, how she soon got invited to your house. The two of you acted more like friends, than anything else and Wanda couldn’t be happier about it. Especially because, now that you had your guard down, she could easily get access to more personal information.
She’d ask you to join her at her house earlier than your scheduled babysitting appointment and she’d sit across from you, listening to you talk about your day. It almost became the norm. She’d sometimes ask you personal questions, but friends did that. So you had no problem to share that you’re single, that you liked women, a confession that brought a blush to your cheeks, feeling uncertain to mention something like that to the older woman, but she took it with a smile, which calmed your nerves.
In truth, Wanda almost jumped out of her skin with joy, knowing that little piece of information. That night, when she settled next to her window, eyes fixated on your bedroom, she watched with even more interest than before, since now she could picture what you fantasized about, while you lay in bed, touching yourself.
Yes, this was, perhaps, Wanda’s favorite part of her daily routine. She’d watch you from the shadows as you undressed, your curtains naively left open. Wanda couldn’t fathom, at first, why you left them so, considering anyone could spy on you, but she wasn’t going to complain, when she was the one hungrily watching.
You had such a beautiful body. She had admired that from day one. And when she found out how you liked to take care of yourself, she was hooked. She saw you splayed out on your bed, legs spread open, while your fingers moved inside you. You were such a pretty sight. Your back arched, your hair scattered across the pillow, your free hand teasing your nipples… How was she supposed to resist all that?
No, there was no way she could resist you, so she did what she had to, to make sure she could keep you close. And she quickly moved on from casual meetings and friendly outings to inviting you over for a day around the pool, sneaking countless pictures of you, while you were sunbathing, her fingers twitching every time she lathered sunscreen on you. She invited you for dinners, she left little treats for you, whenever you babysat for her, just so she could show you she cared. She gave you little back massages on the days you felt exhausted, she checked in on you, to make sure you’re ok. All that, and you still had no clue she wanted you!
Not to mention how often she tried to flirt, sitting next to you while you had coffee together, her thigh touching yours, while she talked, or her hands running over your arms, while she complimented you, her soft words of praise… God, she tried so hard, but you were so shy! She could see the blush on your cheeks, when she was close, she could tell she affected you, but not once did you respond. A fact, she found extremely frustrating. It made her resort to not only having to watch you through your windows, but also taking care of the burning need between her legs all by herself.
Now that just wouldn’t do. It was clear to Wanda that you were meant to be hers and after another night of hiding while she watched you touch yourself, her own hand mirroring your movements, she’d had enough. She wanted to know what you felt like, wanted to taste your lips, your skin, she wanted to breathe you in, wanted to have you under her fingertips, writhing. She wanted everything. And perhaps through some kind of miracle, fate seemed to smile upon her just a few days later.
She was asked to attend a conference out of town, and of course, she couldn’t think of a better person to entrust her children to, but you. She made sure that you’ll have everything you need, inviting you into her home with a wide smile and she gave you a copy of her schedule in case you needed anything, before she left, climbing into her car and waving at the three of you as she drove away.
She couldn’t help but smile at the notion, of all three of you, huddled together to see her off. It was the perfect picture of the family she hoped to one day have and she knew that she wouldn’t have it with anyone but you. You were perfect, smiling softly, as your eyes followed her movements, your arms wrapped around her boys. You looked so pretty and domestic, so delicate… God, how she longed this would be her reality.
Wanda couldn’t stop thinking of it all the way to her conference, the long hours of driving passing with her mind picturing countless scenarios, countless precious moments that you could share. It was so hard to shake off the thought that this wasn’t in fact real and that, despite her longing, you weren’t actually hers, that she had to sit in her car for a few minutes, grounding herself in the present, before she could join her colleagues.  
The hours moved slowly, fraying her nerves, making her check her watch desperately the later it got. She could see the light of the day fading, fluorescent lights flickering to life in the building, as her colleagues droned on and on. It was getting clear that she wouldn’t be home on time and she used a quick break to give you a call.
“Hi, Wanda.” You greeted with a smile. “How’s the conference going?” You asked.
“Hi, darling.” She replied on instinct, the sound of your voice bringing a smile to her lips, despite her exhaustion, before she paused, having to remind herself that you’re not hers. “The conference is taking a little longer.” Wanda cleared her throat. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be.” She confessed. “Would you mind staying a bit longer?” She asked, her voice apologetic.
“Of course, I’ll stay.” You replied with a smile. “We’ll order pizza for dinner, we’ll play some games, maybe watch a movie. You don’t have to worry about us.” You said in a calming tone, bringing instant relief to Wanda’s overworked mind.
“Thank you, Y/N! You’re a life-saver.” Wanda said with a sigh. “If it gets too late, just settle in my bedroom.” She continued. “Just make yourself at home. I’ll do my best to be back as soon as I can.” She assured you, fingers picking at her phone’s case nervously.
“Don’t worry about us, Wanda.” She heard you say on the other end, calming, soft, almost making Wanda forget her reality again. “And drive safely. We’ll be just fine here.” You reassured her again, making the older woman sigh, as if a weight was just lifted.
Despite the shortness of the conversation, it was enough for her to feel more at ease. Enough to get her through the conference and as soon as she was able, she was back in her car and on her way to the three of you.
It was late, the roads dark and abandoned. She had to stop at a gas station to buy herself a cup of coffee, just so she could keep herself alert, her hope of making it home on time completely forgotten. She knew it would be way past the boys’ bedtime, but she hoped to at least see you.
When she reached her house, it was a little after midnight and the darkened rooms told her that all three of you were asleep, making her walk silently through the rooms, to make sure she wouldn’t wake you.
She checked on the boys first, cracking open their door, to see their sweet faces buried in their pillows, blissfully sleeping in their beds, each one tucked in with his favorite toy, making her heart swell with love. She was tempted to go in and kiss their little foreheads, but she didn’t want to disturb them, so she closed the door instead, walking further down the hall to her own bedroom.
She opened the door softly, peering in to find you tucked in. You had pulled down one of her pillows, cuddling it close to your chest, a leg swung over it. She knew it’s how you usually slept, she’d seen it enough times through her windows, yet emotions started to swirl within her at the sight. She wanted to replace the damned thing with her own body, to feel you against her, to be surrounded by your warmth, she wanted to feel your soft breaths as you slept, wanted to run her hands over your body. She thought of how much of your scent will be on her pillow tomorrow, thought about burying her face in it, while she touched herself, so she could imagine that she’s with you. Just the thought had her hands twitching.
Wanda hadn’t realized how dangerous it was, having you here, in her house, in her bed, vulnerable and asleep. Not really. Not until you were here and her imagination had started to run wild. Would you feel her if she climbed in with you? Would she be able to stop herself, if she allows herself this one small indulgence? Would you stir, if she wrapped her arms around you? Would you know, if she buried her face in your neck, while she ground herself against the swell of your ass?
Before she could take her fantasies any further, she saw you stir, her eyes widening in shock, as if caught doing something wrong, before she reminded herself that you couldn’t possibly know what she had just fantasized about.
“Go back to sleep, sweet girl.” Wanda whispered softly, clearing her throat when her voice came out raspy. “I’ll just grab some sheets for the couch.” She explained, as if she needed to give you a reason for being so close to your sleeping form. As if she got caught doing something terribly inappropriate.
It took you a moment to process her words, your mind hazy and tired, your voice rough, when you finally spoke.
“You can stay here.” You said, pulling away the covers. You wanted to say that she shouldn’t be forced to sleep on the couch, in her own house, but your mind couldn’t quite formulate the right words, so this sentence just had to do.
Wanda knew she shouldn’t. Knew it was a dangerous thing, letting someone like her be so close to you. She knew the temptation would be too great, that she wouldn’t be able to resist her urges, yet she couldn’t force herself to say no. She wanted this. No, she needed this. She wanted to spend tonight, pretending that you’re hers.
What Wanda didn’t know was that, despite your obliviousness to her secret activities, you were putting on your nightly shows just for her. Or, with her on your mind. Wanda was just so beautiful, so kind, so caring and sweet, that she had you from the very first day you met her. And the way she treated you certainly didn’t help. Her hands always found ways to touch you, compliments and praises spilling from her lips, as her eyes glided over your body. It was driving you crazy. She always left you little treats, wrote sweet notes for you to find, gave the best hugs. Not to mention you’d left her house with soaked panties so often, it was a miracle you hadn’t stained her couch yet. But you never dared tell her such a thing. You never wanted to fall from her good graces and lose her friendship, too scared that should you admit how desperately in love you’d fallen, you’d never see her, or the boys again. Yet tonight, fate her tested both of you and you were both too weak to resist.
Without much protest, Wanda pulled out a tank top and a fresh pair of panties from her drawers and she took the fastest shower of her life, before she changed quickly, so she could settle into bed next to you. You’d given up your cuddly pillow and it seemed you were once again sleeping peacefully and Wanda had to bite back a smirk, when you backed into her, your ass pressing into her.
It was almost too easy, Wanda thought to herself, as she put her arm around you. You were so warm, so soft, so exposed… She could feel that you had nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of panties on. This was the only barrier that stood between her and what she wanted. Some measly scraps of clothes. But Wanda took it slow, she nuzzled her face in your neck, breathing you in. She wasn’t sure if she was secretly taking her time, so you’d be properly asleep, so there’d be no witnesses to her depravity, so you’d never know how deep her perversions went, or how terribly she craved you. Another part of her wanted you wide awake, so tomorrow you wouldn’t be able to deny how good she made you feel. She wanted you to remember all the things she’d do to you.
In the end it was you, who made the first move. Your body betraying you, while you slept. Little moans and whimpers escaping your lips. At first she thought you might be having a bad dream, a nightmare, but soon she heard a word. Her ears strained to make it out, her arm tightening around you protectively, as if it would do any good, until she finally understood. It wasn’t a word. It was a name. Wanda. You were mewling her name like a little kitten, thighs squeezing together, trying to rut against nothing, seeking friction.
It was the last straw, really. The last bit of restraint she had, simply snapped like a twig and Wanda’s arm tightened even more, her hold so firm, you could hardly move, as she started to leave little kisses on your neck, whispering out your name, so she could bring you out of your dream and into reality.
She felt you wake up slowly, almost heard the gears in your head spin as you realized where you are and remembered Wanda coming home, remembered inviting her into your bed… Well… Her bed, really. Then you remembered what you’d just dreamt about, now more of an idea, an echo, of something distant, yet so powerful it made your cheeks heat up.
“I’m sorry I woke you.” You said, voice rough, body rigid, as if afraid that if you move, Wanda would be able to see every dirty fantasy that you’d just dreamt up.
“You don’t need to apologize.” Wanda said. Her voice was like liquid gold, smooth and seductive. “I can take care of you.” She continued, longing filling up her words. “Would you let me do that, sweet girl?” She asked, still holding you, still firmly pressed into you. “Would you let me help you feel good?”
“Wanda...” You gasped, utterly stunned. It was too much to process, and your mind was so hazy. Were you dreaming this up too? Would you wake up tomorrow, alone in Wanda’s bed and curse yourself for believing, or even hoping she would want you the same way you wanted her?   
“Yes, sweetheart, it’s me.” The older woman reassured you. “You were dreaming.” She explains, patient. “You were having quite the dream about me.” She continues, speaking as if she’d seen right into your head and knew exactly what you’d dreamt about. “I must have been very good, if I made you chant my name.” She says bluntly, smirking at the way your heart quickened at her words. “Can I confess something, Y/N?” She suddenly ask, making you wait for her next words with bated breath. “Even though you were dreaming of me, even when you were saying my name, I still couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. Some imaginary Wanda was having something I want all to myself.” She told you, words whispered into the night air like a secret. “I want you all to myself.”
For a second there, you thought your heart had stopped beating. You could hardly believe it. But Wanda’s grip loosened a bit, allowing you to turn on your back, your eyes meeting, and you knew that this wasn’t another one of your dreams. This was real.
“Would you let me help you feel good, darling?” Wanda asked again, hips straddling your waist. She looked so beautiful, her blonde hair falling around her face, her green eyes, now darkened pools that never looked away, her lips parted, as if waiting to devour you. “Would you let me make you mine?”
“Please.” You almost whined. You were desperate, hands reaching up, caressing her cheek for a moment, before you were pulling her down.
Wanda’s response was instantaneous. As soon as she had your consent, she leaned down, those same, soft, pink lips you had just stared at, now claiming yours in a kiss.
She kissed you over and over again, hungry, like a barely-contained animal that was fighting to break free. She had her hands all over your body, desperate to feel as much of you as she could, caressing and stroking, eager to feel your naked skin, instead of the t-shirt you were wearing.
She broke the kiss just long enough to take the offensive item off, discarding it on the floor, without paying it much thought, before she was kissing you again, tongue invading your mouth and exploring eagerly.
Wanda was practically salivating. It wasn’t just the fact that all her fantasies were coming true. It was also how adorably submissive you were being, how eager you were for everything she gave you… It was that spark in your eyes. You weren’t putting on a show for her. You genuinely wanted her. Craved her. You were just as in love with her as she was with you. She just knew it.
Not wanting to lose anymore time, she sneaked a hand between your bodies, fingers caressing your pussy over the damp material of your panties. She was instantly rewarded with a moan, your hips canting up to meet her, desperate to feel more of the pleasure she was promising.
“Be a good girl and stay still, darling.” Wanda whispered against your lips, voice starting to vibrate with all the emotions that swirled inside her. “Unless you want me to stop?” She suggested, raising a single eyebrow at you.
“No, please don’t stop.” You mewled, shaking your head, hands clinging to her shoulders.
“Legs open.” Wanda commanded, pulling your thighs apart. She didn’t want you squeezing your legs and getting any pleasure that didn’t come from her. She’d seen you do that enough times and now that she was finally taking you for herself, she never wanted to see it again.
She took her time kissing you, fingers drawing patterns against your things for a bit, testing your will to follow her instructions, and when she saw that you’d behaved yourself, she started again. Stroking your clit through your panties, drawing slow, teasing circles over it. It was driving you crazy and you needed so much more, so it wasn’t a surprise when you finally broke down and begged.
“Wanda, please. Please, touch me.” You asked, your big eyes looking up at her pleadingly, your legs spreading even wider in a silent invitation.
“That’s my good girl.” Wanda praised, kissing you deeply, while she pulled your panties to the side. “That’s what I want you to do from now. Every time you want to feel good, I want you to come to me. I’ll take such good care of you.” She promised, voice seductive and low.
You nodded, swallowing thickly at the intensity in her eyes. You could tell she meant every word. But you weren’t given much time to think of what that could mean, her fingers gliding over your entrance, gathering the wetness accumulated there and dragging it up to your clit. She circled it gently, careful not to overwhelm you, building you up steadily.
Unable to resist much longer, her head lowered, taking a nipple into her mouth and circling it with her tongue while she stimulated you, feeling you squirm under her, your back arching into her touch and demanding more. You were a greedy little thing. Wanda liked that.
Between the way she sucked on your nipples and rubbed your clit, it didn’t take you long, before you felt yourself reaching the edge. You’d dreamt of being with her for so long, you’d pictured what it would be like so many times, you’d touched yourself to such thoughts more than you’d like to admit and now that it was finally a reality, you could hardly contain yourself. You held on to Wanda’s shoulders and hair, pulling her closer and moaning out her name, just as you had in the dream, desperate for a release.
“Are you going to come for me, baby?” Wanda detached herself from your perfect breasts just long enough to ask.
“Yes, I’m so close!” You gasped, wishing she would move her fingers just a bit faster. “Please!” You murmured on an exhale.
Wanda smirked then, starting a quick descent down your body, her slick fingers pushing inside you and filling you up perfectly. God, she loved the feeling of your walls squeezing her, fluttering around her frantically, like the wings of a butterfly.
“You feel so good.” Wanda almost growled, her fingers moving in and out of you suddenly. She couldn’t contain her excitement and quite frankly, she didn’t want to, either. “This is my pussy now.” She said with determination, refusing to give up this feeling. “No one else is allowed to touch you, you hear me?” She demanded, fingers speeding up, becoming almost rough. “Say it, baby. Say you’re mine and I’ll make you come so hard.” Wanda coaxed, her smile growing wider the more you fisted at the sheets and moaned for her.
“I’m yours, Wanda! Please, please, make me come.” You pleaded softly, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when she hit a particularly good spot.
Wanda’s body moved even lower, her head between your legs. She breathed in your scent shamelessly, making you try to hide your face from her in embracement, but she was intoxicated. You smelled so damn good. She could see her fingers disappear inside you, your wetness coating them, making her feel proud that she could turn you into such a mess.
“Don’t hide from me, baby.” She reprimanded, when she saw the way you covered your face. “Watch me.” She whispered, as if it was an invitation.
When you finally looked down, meeting her gaze, she lowered her head, tongue sticking out so she could taste you. Her lips wrapped around your clit, her soft, wet mouth enveloping you and making you almost scream at how good it felt. You couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. You were on the edge and with a few delicious strokes, Wanda pushed you over it.
A tidal wave of pleasure washed over you, and you bit your lip in an attempt not to scream. It felt so good being full of her, being stroked by her tongue. It was better than what your fingers could offer, better than any other lover you’d had. And she kept moving in that same rhythm, milking every last bit of pleasure you could offer, until you were spent.
Wanda could tell you were done, but she wasn’t even close to being done with you. She had barely gotten a taste of you and her tongue continued to lap at your clit in eager strokes.
“Shhh, it’s ok, sweetheart, you’re ok. Let me clean you up.” She spoke softly, soothing you and quieting down your whines of protest.
She removed her fingers, but soon enough her tongue replaced them at your opening. She lapped at you gently, doing everything in her power to contain her hunger for you, but her hands held you down firmly, ready to stop any attempt for you to get away. She would bruise you if she held on any harder than that, you both knew it, but neither of you cared. You would wear her marks proudly. Just as you would take the overstimulation, if it meant she would keep touching you.
“You taste so good.” Wanda groaned, detaching herself just long enough to speak the words, before returning with renewed hunger.
You moaned when her tongue returned back to your clit and you had to force yourself to stay still, to take everything she wanted to give you. That’s what good girls do. Good girls take what’s given to them. And it wasn’t hard. The craving within you returned, growing harder to ignore with each stroke of her tongue. God, she was so damn good with her mouth.
“So good.” You sighed, when she lapped over a particularly good spot.
You could feel her smile as she looked up at you, repeating the motion over and over again, feeling your body relax under her fingers, now eager for her ministrations.
“Such a good girl.” Wanda praised, instantly spotting the way the blood rose up to your cheeks. She had a feeling you’d like it.
Her mouth returned back to your clit, feeling it twitch under her tongue in desperation. She wondered if you were always like this. Always so wet and needy. If you had been this way while she flirted with you, while she talked to you and complimented you, when her hands lingered… She wondered how you held out so long, without begging her to fuck you. But it didn’t matter. She had you now. And she could tell you were getting close again, your fingers had found their way in her hair and you were greedily pulling her closer, back arching with pleasure, your moans growing louder.
“As much as I love to hear you, darling, you have to be quieter. We wouldn’t want you to wake the boys.” Wanda reminded.
Her words made you bite your lower lip, trying to stay quiet while the pressure inside you kept building. Her tongue made circles and figure-eight’s, swirling perfectly and sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Every part of you she touched instantly responded, sending you in a spiral of neediness.
Your hands pulled her impossibly closer, feeling yourself reach the edge. Your back arched and a few strangled pleas’ fell from your lips, before you finally came, your mouth hanging open in a scream that never left your throat.
Wanda helped you ride it out, her tongue never stopping, until the hands that used to pull her closer, started to try and push her away. She did so with a smirk, crawling over your body so she could plant a few soft kisses on your face. She was tempted to keep going, just so she could show you that she decides when you’ve had enough, not you, but knowing what she had in mind for you next, she decided to take pity on you.  
She moved off the bed after a minute, instantly seeing the concern in your eyes, when she left you and she smiled gently, before speaking.
“You just lie down and rest, dear. I’ll be right back.” She reassured you, discarding her top and panties and moving quickly and efficiently through the room, opening her special drawer with toys, so she could pull out a harness and her favorite dildo.
She made a show of putting it on in front of you, pulling out a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer and coating the toy with it. Not that you needed it, but she liked to be safe. When she was ready, she stood beside the bed, tall and proud and ready to pounce on you.
“Legs open, darling. Show me that pretty pussy.” Wanda demanded as she stroked her strap suggestively.
You did as you were told, spreading your legs wider than they already were, so you could give her a good view, but it didn’t seem to satisfy her.
“I said, show me your pussy.” She repeated, voice growing stern.
Timidly, a little unsure, you reached down, fingers parting your pussy lips, until you were all on display for her. It felt a little obscene, a little embarrassing too, showing yourself to Wanda in such an intimate way, but she seemed to like it, a pleased smile appearing on her face.
She crawled over the bed, her eyes following the length of your legs, then your thighs, zeroing in on your pussy in a manner that could only be described as predatory. But instead of tearing you apart, she was going to fuck you, until you couldn’t cum anymore.
“Such a pretty thing.” Wanda admired you, her hand reaching out. She dragged a single finger through your wetness, her eyes fixated on yours. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” She suddenly asked. “How many nights I watched you touch yourself and dreamt it could be me. How hard I made myself cum, while you had your legs spread wide, just like this.” She emphasized, by spreading your legs even wider, watching the muscles strain. “But you’re not going to do such things anymore, are you?” She asked, as she started to drag the tip of her fake cock over your slick folds, getting it wet with your juices. ”Once I’m done with you…” She started off, leaning over you, so she could whisper the last of her words directly in your ear. “Nothing will ever be as good.” She promised, guiding the tip of her cock to your opening and pushing inside.
Your hands flew to her back instantly, your big, doe eyes looking up at her, while you nodded your agreement. You could hardly speak, the feeling of your walls parting for her, accepting her eagerly and squeezing around her was so overwhelmingly good, you could hardly even think, let alone process the fact that apparently, she’s been watching your nightly activities. All you wanted was this. For her steady thrusts to never stop, for her lips to keep exploring up and down your neck, planting kisses on every spot they could reach. You could tell she was leaving marks too, hickeys that marked you as hers. It was heavenly. And as her thrusts grew harder, your moans grew louder, your restraint entirely forgotten as you gave yourself completely to the moment.
“You need to be quiet, honey.” Wanda reminded again. “If you can’t keep quiet, I’ll have to gag you.” She warned. It sounded like a threat, but her eyes sparkling with excitement told you otherwise. You could tell she would love to do that and a part of you wanted to know what that would feel like. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you.” She noticed right away, an eyebrow arching up at the idea. “Stick your tongue out.” She demanded, one of her palms reaching up to hold your jaw, while you complied. “That’s right.” She nodded, her thumb running across your lower lip before it disappeared in your mouth. “Suck, baby.” She gasped, already feeling your eager tongue swirl over her digit, your lips closing around it hungrily.
You looked so beautiful like that, so content, so blissfully lost in pleasure. You were sucking on her thumb happily, your hands starting to claw at her back as she kept on thrusting inside you. Your legs had found their way around her too, your whole body pulling her in.
“Such a talented little mouth.” She mused, not missing the small blush that started to form on your cheeks. “I wonder what else you would like to have in there.” She pretended to think. “My nipples, maybe? They’re so sensitive, you know? I bet they’d feel amazing with your lips around them. Or maybe my pussy?” She suggested, feeling you hum happily in agreement. “I bet you love eating pussy.” She said with a smirk. “Maybe I’ll even get you to clean off my strap, when I’m done with you.” Wanda said with a spark in her eye. “Wouldn’t you like that? To suck me off. I’ll even get one of those squirting straps for you next time, so I can give you a treat after.” She thought out loud. “I bet you’d like that very much.”
All you could do was nod, eager to agree. You would love to get to taste her pussy, you would happily suck her off too. Not to mention sucking on her gorgeous nipples… The thought had you reeling. You wondered if perhaps she’d ever let you fall asleep while you sucked on them, all tucked in, with her warm blankets around you and her hot body pressed against you. That would be simply heavenly. But you didn’t dare say a word, too scared that she’ll take her thumb from your mouth and leave it empty, something you didn’t want happening at all. Especially when you felt so full right now. Both your mouth and your pussy were getting filled up by Wanda and each second was getting you closer to yet another climax.
Wanda could feel you get close and the pressure of the harness against her clit was driving her wild with desire, her pussy dripping with arousal. She wanted to come while she fucked you, picturing that she could cum inside you and fill you up. She pictured her fingers playing with the mess she left behind, pushing it all back inside, when it eventually leaks out, overstimulating your pussy. But that didn’t matter. She would make it all better… She just really wanted to be able to get off, while she fucked you, but the pressure of the base of the dildo against clit just wasn’t enough.
As another orgasm crashed through you, you were thankful for the fingers still in your mouth, otherwise you would have screamed, wave after wave of pleasure overwhelming your senses. Nothing had ever felt as good as Wanda’s touch and you were quickly getting addicted to the way she so easily managed to coax you into cumming, no matter how much you had already taken for her.
When you were done, she pulled out, carefully detaching herself from you and tossing the harness on the floor. When she climbed back over you, you thought she’d like to cuddle, or that perhaps she’ll straddle your face, a prospect that had you licking your lips in anticipation, but she straddled you instead, manoeuvring your body until, she could position her pussy on yours.
When her wet pussy first made contact with yours, you squirmed, feeling overstimulated, but Wanda only straddled you more securely, pinning you under her and using her hands to restrain you.
“Oh, don’t try to run from me now…” She said with a smirk, her pussy making contact with yours again. “I made you cum so many times tonight. Are you going to deny me, hm? Are you going to be ungrateful, sweetheart?” She asked, her words condescending and sweet.
You only shook your head, your fingers intertwining with hers in a silent agreement.
“Wouldn’t you like me to eat you instead?” You offered weakly, still hoping to spare yourself.
“No, darling, I want to feel you. I want to come just like this. I’m already close, baby.” She reassured you, even though she didn’t much care if that brought you any solace. “You can take it for me.”
“I can take it.” You nodded, voice strained and so small. She loved it. Loved the prospect of having you utterly spent and exhausted, so she could take care of you.
“That’s right. You just lay there and let me use you. I know you can take it for me.” Wanda confirmed proudly. “You’re such a good girl.” She praised, one of her hands stroking your hair lovingly. “Such a good, sweet girl, taking everything I give you. I’m so proud of you honey.” She murmured sweetly, lulling your brain into a submissive haze.
You hung on to every word she uttered, getting off on the praise and the warmth of her approval, your clit responding with a throb, when she started to rub hers over it. You loved it. The way she looked at you, the way she held you, the way she caressed you, her ministrations purposefully gentle and slow.
You could do nothing but surrender, happy to be used in this way, to see her close her eyes in pleasure as she continued to grind against you. Her breasts hung above you, full and gorgeous and begging for your attention and you lifted your head up, capturing a nipple between your lips and letting your tongue swirl over it.
Wanda’s response was a surprised gasp that quickly turned into a moan, one of her hands cradling your head as she continued to grind her pussy on yours.
“There you go.” She sighed happily. “Keep sucking, baby. You make me feel so good.”
She let you suck and lick over her nipples, loving the content expression she could see on your face as you did it. You looked so blissed out and she knew she could finally focus on getting an orgasm for herself, her hips picking up speed and grinding more firmly against you.
“You feel divine, darling.” She said, as she held you. “You’re gonna make me cum so hard.” She announced. “Don’t stop sucking.” She encouraged, pulling you even closer to herself, her fingers in your hair.
She moaned softly, excitement shooting through her at the thought of just how dirty this was. She had you all pinned underneath her, using your pussy to get off, her juices mixing with your own, while she had you sucking on her nipples.
“Fuck, I’m close.” Wanda gasped, her movements getting more frantic as she chased her high. “Are you going to come with me, baby? I want you to come with me.” She said with a note of urgency.
You tried to say something, your words muffled, as your face was being shoved into Wanda’s perfect tits. A part of you really wanted to come with her, feeling safe and protected in your current position. You felt enveloped by Wanda, by her taste, her scent, her voice, the heat of her body on top of yours. It was perfect really. Then there was the other part of you, that felt utterly fucked out already and entirely unable to take another orgasm. But as soon as you felt her body go rigid, her stuttering thrusts getting erratic and then almost stopping as she came, your body decided for you. You let go, your orgasm crashing over you and making you moan.
Wanda had to fight back a scream as she finally came, her clit twitching and throbbing as it was being rubbed over your own. She couldn’t picture a better way for herself, loving how close you were, how intimate it felt to get off like this. She loved it even more that you came with her.
Your orgasm was much shorter than hers, your whole body utterly spent already, but you held on, taking the overstimulation that sent almost painful jolts through you, and waiting for her to finish, wanting her to enjoy herself as much as she liked.
When she was done, Wanda was kind enough to pull away from your pussy, finally having mercy on you, after she saw the exhausted look on your face.
She stood up briefly, getting you a glass of water and she watched you drink it, before she returned to bed, trying to snuggle you and finally let you rest, but feeling you resist her.
“I didn’t even get to taste you.” You murmured gently, the cutest pout she’d ever seen appearing on your face and making her let out a laugh.
“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll get to taste my pussy too, baby.” Wanda reassured you. “You’ll get a chance to show me how good you are with your tongue. Now, rest. You’ll need your strength tomorrow.” She whispered in your ear, the arm around you pulling you closer to her.
She watched you fall asleep, eyes sparkling and full of adoration, fingers playing with your hair calmingly, until you fully relaxed in her hold, breathing evening out.
“You’re just perfect, aren’t you.” She spoke softly, memorizing each detail of your face. “All mine now.”
924 notes · View notes
cainhursthunters · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
I know my girlfriend is a witch 🪄✨—
26 notes · View notes