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#summertime sadness
fleuvien · 9 months
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real
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coldcoffee18 · 11 months
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Summertime madness
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the-sp0tless-mind · 3 months
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coneyisl3nd · 9 months
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think ill miss you forever, like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky
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femmefatale14 · 11 months
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Lana Del Rey
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american beauty౨ৎ
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bloody-angel-cake · 9 months
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angeldoll4ever · 11 months
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Lana Del Rey performing "Body Electric" (2013)
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milk-and-clouds · 2 years
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me recently :
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petite-fille222 · 1 year
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sweetness of summer
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maniccherrygirl · 10 months
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blondiesdwrld · 2 years
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This photo is my reason for living
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romanoffsdarling · 6 months
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Summertime Sadness
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Pairing: Dom!Wanda Maximoff x MILF!Reader
Summary: You hadn’t expected the summer after your divorce to be anything more than you simply getting used to being alone and drowning your sorrows in glasses of wine. The sudden homecoming of your daughter brings those plans to a screeching halt, but nothing could have prepared you for the woman that she brought along. Her best friend, the woman you’ve been hearing about in all of her phone calls home, offering you a glimpse into parts of yourself you never even knew were there. 
Word Count: 4,891
Warnings: Legal age gap, oral (R receiving), fingering (R receiving), and hints of possessiveness. 18+, Minors DNI.
Author’s Note: I’ve seen a lot of stories with Wanda being the MILF, rightfully so, but I wanted to spin it a bit and make the Reader the MILF in this instance. Hope you all enjoy! (Also, I’m so sorry for disappearing for so long, college has been absolute hell.)
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You never truly comprehend how much time you waste, how much had truly slipped through your fingers, until it’s already too late to do anything about it. Until you look into the mirror and see the once youthful face marred by faint wrinkles, a sign of wisdom your best friend would tease, and hair speckled with the vaguest hint of grey. 
Twenty-five years... You had been married to your husband for twenty-five years; giving him your youth, giving him your heart and soul, and you never once imagined that he would have tossed all of that away for some floozy at his law firm. Never thought that you’d look down at your left hand and not see the delicate gold band situated on your ring finger. Of course, even now, you didn’t regret marrying him-- for it had given you the house you lived in now, the friends that had flocked to your side when the news of his infidelity spread through the neighborhood, and it gave you your darling daughter. Even if she was not yours by blood, you couldn’t imagine anyone housing the same space in your heart like your beautiful Natasha did. 
All you did regret was being stupid enough to trust him so much. For putting your faith, and your dreams, in his clearly incapable hands. It had hurt, and still does hurt, but it wasn’t because you had lost him-- your marriage, in truth, had been dead for years-- but for all the time you had lost in chasing smoke and mirrors; in staying for something that should have been let go of long ago. You hated him for what he did, for getting caught with his pants down in between his secretary’s thighs, but you hated him even more for not being man enough to simply let you go, to give up the fight when it had already been lost after his first thirty seconds with his new whore, and it’s for that reason that you were currently scrubbing every inch of his old office clean. 
You wanted to get rid of any reminder of him-- both in your home and in your mind. 
The smell of bleach and lemon disinfectant surrounds you, but you had long grown used to the cloying scent. Dark oak floors, and the matching desk, gleamed underneath the antique lighting of the room; it had been a long time since they had been given the proper care they needed. It seems that I have more in common with inanimate objects that I thought, you muse, a sense of bittersweet irony strewn within the thought. 
Settling back on your haunches, a sigh escapes your lips, and you roll your shoulders, wanting to relieve the tension that had been slowly building up for the past couple of hours. “I’m not getting any younger,” you mutter, tossing the damp rag to the side. “I just hope everything will get a bit easier.” 
Even to yourself you knew that was asking for a miracle. 
Before you could delve down into that specific line of thought, you faintly hear the sound of the front door being opened and the familiar sound of jangling keys with the slightly deadpan calling of ‘mom’ permeates the usual silence. The sound, although not unwelcome in the slightest, causes a small frown to furrow your brow all the same. 
“Natasha?” You call back, already making your way towards the living room, sure that your confusion rung clearly within your tone. An expression that only grows that much more pronounced when you’re met with the shimmering gaze of your daughter; tousled red hair cut short, falling to just above her shoulders, and her usual penchant of wearing darker colors being tantamount. “What are you doing home, sweetheart? I wasn’t expecting you for another month.” 
Her lips twist in a wry smile. “Are you not happy to see me, mother?” She tilts her head, faux hurt making an appearance. “I thought you’d be glad to see me.”
You gently swat her arm, before pulling her into a tight hug. “Of course, I’m happy to see you, Natasha,” you murmur, your lips briefly brush across her cheek before you disentangle from her completely. “I just know how you value your independence too.”
“I knew that you were alone in the house, mom,” she replies, a shrug calmly following her words. “I didn’t want you to wallow in self-pity while that fucker I call a father gets his rocks off with someone half his age across town.” 
“Language, Natasha,” you gently chide, well aware your daughter was in her early twenties now and didn’t need to be reprimanded for it. “You know that your father still loves you dearly, and I believe he’s excited to see you whenever you get around to going to his new house.” 
Jade eyes roll so hard you’re almost concerned about them getting stuck. “He should have thought about that before he stuck his tongue down someone else’s throat.” Natasha’s lips press into a line, clearly agitated, but she takes a deep breath through her nose and forcibly calms herself down. “But I’m not here to talk about him. I’m here to spend time with you.” 
Sudden movement from behind Natasha causes your reply to catch in your throat when you finally focus on the woman standing behind your daughter. Whose presence you were completely astonished you hadn’t noticed before, especially given how electrifying it felt to have her emerald eyes honed directly on you, but your gentle smile doesn’t fall away; even if you do feel it twitch slightly due to your surprise. Your hand, that was near enough to your daughter’s forearm, clenches around it in a silent reprimand, but you try your best to keep the pleasant tone to your voice. 
“I see that my daughter didn’t think it best to introduce her guest first.” You gently pinch Natasha once before stepping closer to the unknown woman in your home. “I apologize for not noticing you sooner.” 
The woman smirks, the light emerald of her eyes shifting to tantalizing jade as she observes you. “It’s quite alright,” she replies, her voice a husky whisper that’s enveloped in an accent you couldn’t pinpoint the origin of. “I’m not surprised that Nat was too focused on her mother to remember me.” 
Subtext is etched into every inch of that statement, but you didn’t have time to even try to sift through it before your daughter’s teasing voice cuts through. 
“It’s not my fault my mother is more interesting than you, Wanda.” She slides past you to stand beside the now smiling woman. “You just need to learn to get on her level.”
Wanda’s gaze shifts from your daughter to you once more-- the barest hint of her earlier smirk returning. “I don’t know, Nat,” she teases, amusement, mixed with something else you couldn’t put a name to, laced within her words. “I think I quite like my view from where I’m at.”
Your daughter, once again, rolls her eyes skyward but her easygoing smile doesn’t leave her lips. “Mom.” She turns back to you and gestures towards Wanda. “This is Wanda Maximoff, I’ve talked about her a bit when I’ve called home.” 
The name finally clicks into place within your head. Memories of your daughter’s exasperated voice, filled with hints of fondness, come forth from the recesses of your mind. All of the stories, all of the thinly veiled jokes, that your daughter had shared with you, and the clear warmth that she felt for the other woman, brings a fond smile to your lips. An expression that causes various emotions to flicker across Wanda’s face for the briefest of moments before it smooths over. 
“So, you’re the one my daughter kept talking about?” You couldn’t keep the genuine amusement out of your tone if you tried. “Her best friend?”
Wanda arches a brow. “I’m your best friend, Nat?” She playfully places her hands to her heart. “I’m honored that you think so highly of me.” 
You can tell your daughter just barely refrains from rolling her eyes. Not even bothering to deign Wanda’s teasing words with a response, Natasha turns back to you. “Can we go put our things away, mom?” She rolls her shoulders, and, for the first time, you notice how tired she looked. Of course, it was over a four-hour drive from your house in Westview to her college in Ithaca. 
“Of course, sweetheart,” you soothed. “I’m just going to finish up some work down here and then I’ll get started on dinner, okay?”
Natasha smiles. “You’re the best, mom.” 
Your heart flutters at her words, a simple compliment to most, but one that you’ve desperately needed in the last few months. Knowing that you may start crying at any moment if you tried to speak, you wave your daughter towards the stairs and step back towards the hallway to continue your work in the office. But, before you could a throat clearing behind you causes you to turn back around-- only to be met by beautiful emerald eyes that seemed to encompass you in a bubble you didn’t know if you wanted to escape from. 
“Is everything alright, Wanda?” Your gaze quickly flicks over her body: from the black skinny jeans with holes, to the simple red leather jacket, and the casually tousled way her dark auburn hair fell over her shoulders. “Did you need something?” 
Pale pink lips quirk for a moment, before a genuine look of something passes over Wanda’s face once more. “I don’t need anything.” She shakes her head, a low chuckle escapes her, but you weren’t quite sure what was so funny. “I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here with Natasha. Especially since it was clear you didn’t know I was coming in the first place.” 
“It’s not a problem, Wanda,” you reply, a smile of your own playing across your lips. “I’m glad that I won’t be alone in this house for however long you both decide to stay. It definitely beats what I was going to do.”
“What were you going to do?” 
You shrug. “Just wallow around and get drunk off of some wine.”
Wanda considers you for a moment, emerald eyes cast in shadow. “I’m not so sure about the wallowing, but I’d love to have a glass of wine with you sometime.” 
“Oh.” You’re surprised by the simplicity in which Wanda makes the offer. None of Natasha’s previous friends, or best friends, had ever bothered, or seemed that keen, to spend time with you. Not that you’d ever fault them for doing so. Who would want to spend time with the parents of their best friend? “I’m sure you’ll have much more interesting things to do, Wanda.” 
A smile, much softer than the one’s she had shown you before, plays at the corners of her lips. “I’m not so sure about that, but the offer still stands regardless.” She looks over her shoulder when the call of her name from Natasha’s room spears through the house, an almost disgruntled look etching itself across her face because of it. “I think it’ll be fun to get to know the woman that raised Nat. Her stories of you haven’t done you justice in the slightest.” 
You’re not able to reply before Natasha’s annoyed voice from the upper-level calls Wanda towards the stairs, clearly impatient with how long her friend was taking. Conversation over then, you think, taking a small step back, towards the direction of the kitchen. The action elicits the smallest of frowns from Wanda, an expression that is there and gone before you could even blink, and you offer her one last wave before heading further into your house, vaguely aware that you didn’t hear the telltale signs of footsteps on your stairs until you rounded the corner. 
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The following week passes quickly, and you easily grow used to having Natasha back home-- Wanda slipping in seamlessly throughout it all. It was nice to have some company in the large house, even if Natasha did tend to disappear to reconnect with friends she had left behind once she went off to New York and left Westview behind, but knowing that your daughter was there, and would continue to be, if you needed her soothed you in a way that you hadn’t even known you needed. 
Wanda, despite Natasha’s persistent pestering, seemed to enjoy spending her time lounging around the house, citing that she didn’t know anyone in Westview and didn’t plan on getting chummy with the locals, offering her help whenever she saw you doing something, with an ever present look in her eyes that you still couldn’t place. Although you didn’t exactly mind spending time with the younger woman, her perception of the world was enlightening, along with your shared interests in various topics that had never seem to intrigue anyone else except you-- until now, of course. 
You could feel yourself getting close to her, closer than you’ve allowed yourself to be in a long time. Not since college, you muse, taking a small sip of the chilled wine that Wanda had just brought you. Finally deciding, with Natasha going out for friend’s birthday party, that it’d the perfect time to finally share that glass of wine. You didn’t bother trying to argue with her, not when she looked so earnest in her request. 
Wanda settles next to you, causing you to shift your position, pressing your back into the arm rest, in order to be able to look at her. Emerald eyes were glued onto you, a smile playing on the edges of her lips, before she shifts into a comfortable position of her own. 
“So,” you begin, setting down your wine on the coffee table. “What are you planning on doing once you graduate college? Any idea on where you’d like to end up?” 
“I’ve always loved the idea of being a Producer, being the magic behind the scenes if you will,” Wanda replies, a charming grin catching her lips. “And, yes, I do believe there’s a place that’s caught my eye on where I’d like to end up.” 
You arch a brow. “Really?” 
Wanda simply hums in response, a spark of mischief dancing within her gaze-- a look that you had long since grown used to. It’s clear that she wasn’t going to answer you, not that you truly expected her to, after all what college kid has plans on where they’d like to end up? Ideas, perhaps, but nothing concrete as most go where the wind takes them. 
“Well,” you continue, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “I’m glad that you have everything figured out. I definitely envy you for that?” 
The younger woman’s brow furrows at that, bottom lip disappearing behind pearly white teeth. “Why do you say that?” Emerald eyes flit over the immaculate expanse of your house, one that you had strived hard to maintain through the years. “I think you’re definitely a few steps ahead of me in that department.” 
“I wouldn’t say that.” You wave the pseudo-compliment away. “All of what I have isn’t what I originally dreamed of, or wished for, myself, but when certain cards are laid out in front of you.” Trailing off, you run a singular look over the now empty expanse of your ring finger. “You either fold or raise, I wasn’t willing to do the latter. Not when it had so many other consequences attached to it.” 
“What would you wish for then?” 
You shift your focus back to Wanda, confusion etched across your face. “What?” 
She waves a hand. “You said that all of this isn’t what you originally wished for yourself.” Wanda shrugs. “What is then? What would you wish for?” 
“I wish I could find someone that’d treat me in the way he never did, that’d show me what love truly is, and make me forget about all that he’s put me through,” you sigh, taking another sip of your wine. “Of course, with my age, I don’t think that’s really in the cards for me anymore.” 
Wanda scoffs. “I don’t think that’s true. I think there are quite a few people that’d love to be with you.”
Something tells you, maybe some deeper part, a more sensible part, of your brain, that you shouldn’t continue forward with this conversation, that you should take her words as the compliment they are, but another, more needy part of your brain, one that desperately needs to feel some form of validation after so long, doesn’t want to in the slightest. 
Rolling your shoulders, you level Wanda with a look. “Really?” She hums in confirmation. “And who might those people be?”
“Me.” 
If it wasn’t for your back being wedged against the armrest of your catch, you’re fairly certain you would have reared back completely at the calm nonchalance in which she gave you the answer. “Y-You can’t be serious Wanda.” You shake your head, not believing at all what you were hearing. “I’m over a decade older than you.” 
She tilts her head. “So?” A salacious smirk tugs her lips upward. “I think that makes you even hotter.”
“You--” You huff out a breath. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Wanda. I think I’m going to get you some water because you’ve obviously had quite a bit to drink already.” 
But, before you’re able to even push up from the couch, Wanda’s hand grabs your wrist and tugs you closer. Noses almost smashing together, you’re only able to keep yourself steady by grabbing ahold of Wanda’s shoulder with your free hand. “I know exactly what I’m talking about,” she hisses, warm breath ghosting across your face. “I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you on Nat’s phone and it only grew the moment I saw you in person.” Her hand lightly traces down your face, almost reverently. “You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen. No one could ever compare to you in my eyes.”
The sweets words, coupled by the earnest expression etched across her youthful face, causes your willpower to begin to falter. How long has it been since someone looked at you like that? Spoke to you in such a manner? Have you ever had that? The thought makes something twist within your gut. 
“You’re my daughter’s best friend,” you begin, trying to force some semblance of reality into this situation. Trying to make yourself see reason before you did what this was no doubt leading to. “We can’t do this, Wanda.” 
“We can do whatever the hell we want. We’re both adults, I’m not some child.” She tugs you closer, nuzzling her nose against yours. “And what I want to do is kiss you the way you’re supposed to be kissed.” 
A hitch in your breathing gives Wanda all the information she needs, and seals your fate completely, but, even with that go ahead, at the clear sign that you wanted her as much as she clearly wanted you, her lips still descended onto yours at a snail’s pace, giving you the opportunity to pull away. 
You didn’t want to. 
Didn’t want to have this moment be ruined by what could potentially come after. For the first time, in what felt like forever, you were going to put what you desired, what you wanted, before everything else. So, when Wanda’s lips finally did meet your own, and you’re able to faintly taste the cherry chap-stick she seemed so fond of, you give your all to the embrace. Mouth easily opening to her questing tongue, a small moan escaping from deep within your chest at the feel of it entangling with your own, and Wanda seems to press even closer. 
At this point you’re not even sure where you begin and Wanda ends, being pressed so closely together as you are. All you do know is that you never want this to end, never want to go a moment without Wanda’s warm hands trailing down your body, slender fingers digging slightly into your sides to pull you tightly against her, never want to be without the feelings she invokes within your chest-- the butterflies she causes within your stomach. 
With a small snarl, Wanda rips her mouth from yours, making you just barely stifle the noise of disappointment the action causes within you, but the darkened emerald eyes leveled with your own renders you temporarily mute. Wanda’s chest heaving in her effort to get enough air, but she doesn’t once stop running her hands down your body-- seemingly not being able to get enough of touching you. 
“I want to see you,” Wanda growls, hands gripping the material of your flimsy shirt and quickly pulling it over your head. Darkened green eyes taking in each inch of flesh that’s been revealed to her-- on any other circumstance you’d be mortified by the fervor in which she was looking at you, but underneath all that hunger, you could see a sense of awe, a spark of reverence, as if you had just made a wish of hers come true. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” Her head dips, pressing a hot kiss against your neck, tongue soothing the place her teeth had dug in. “I’m going to worship you, baby, I’m going to make everyone else before me feel obsolete.”
Your back arches on its own volition, pressing yourself further into the heated touch of the hand trailing down your abdomen. Burning kisses, that feel like they’d send the raging inferno coursing through your veins absolutely haywire, following the path her fingers had just traced-- sharp canines delicately nipping the flesh of your navel before her tongue sweeps over the flesh to soothe the mark that she had undoubtedly left behind. You’re barely aware of when Wanda had been capable of tugging your sweatpants down your leg, along with your panties, before tossing them in a random direction behind her, but you’re definitely honed in on the moment her tongue, that had just done such sinful things to your chest and stomach, made contact with the apex of your thighs. 
A breathy whine escapes you then, the feeling of Wanda’s tongue lapping at the wetness beginning to escape you, little hungry mewls escaping her throat, as if you were the most appetizing thing she had ever tasted, brings a whole new high to your pleasure-- something you had never felt before. Digging your fingers through her hair, tugging at the long strands to pull her impossibly closer, you’re rewarded by a breathy snarl, Wanda’s lips latching onto your clit and sucking it into her warm mouth-- slender fingers taking up residence where her tongue had just been, entering you hard and fast. Not giving you even a moment to get used to the new feelings before she’s pounding into you, the slender digits curling up just right to brush the spot within you. 
The sounds of your wetness, of the sloshing noises that Wanda’s fingers made every time she pulled out, would have normally made you embarrassed, and it probably would have, if Wanda hadn’t made sure to maintain eye contact with you throughout it all. Emerald eyes, blown almost black with lust, keenly observing every minute expression that flits across your face, tongue lashing across your clit in the precise moment that you needed her to, fingers scissoring inside of you the moment you felt your high coming that much closer. The simple fact that she already seemed to know your body so well, that she could already read your face, in a way that your ex-husband never could, makes the need to have her closer almost like a drug coursing through your veins. 
With the fingers still tangled in her hair, you tug her upwards. Seeming almost hesitant to leave, Wanda follows your wordless command after another thorough swipe of her tongue, her mouth latching onto your own the moment she’s within reach. And, the heady mix of yourself and something that’s inherently Wanda, fogs your brain, but you still have half the mind to wrap your arms around her back, arching more fully into her body-- needing to feel connected to her in some way. Moreso than you already were. 
Ripping her mouth away from your own, when air becomes a necessity, Wanda groans. “You’re doing so good for me, baby.” Nimble fingers are quickly accompanied by a third. “Taking my fingers so well. Fuck you’re so tight for me, aren’t you?” 
You nod, a soundless scream escaping. The stretch, the feeling of being so full, and the warmth of Wanda’s breath across your ear, a combination you never knew you needed until now. The cliff, that you hadn’t been able to achieve by yourself, and rarely ever with your ex-husband, seems to be getting closer and closer; you were more than excited to finally take the plunge. 
“That’s right, baby,” Wanda coos, thrusting harder into you. “Just feel my fingers in your perfect cunt. He never fucked you like this, huh? Never treated with the roughness you’ve obviously wanted?”
Something in her voice, in the darkened tone, tells you that this line of questioning wouldn’t be as rhetorical as the first. “N-No--” A sharp whine is pulled from your lips. “Only you. Only you’ve fucked me the way I’ve wanted.”
A sharp grin pulls at Wanda’s lips, her free hand gripping your hip in a possessive hold. “And I’m only ever going to be the one to do it from this point forward.” Her head dips, teeth digging into the sensitive flesh right beneath your pulse point. “Isn’t that right, baby?” 
“Yes!” Your back arches, your incoming orgasm nearly blinding you. “I-I’m so close. I-I can’t--” 
Wanda rolls her hips, shushing you gently. “It’s alright, baby. You’ve done so good for me. Be my good girl and cum for me.”
At her command your body finally releases the final coil that had been prepared to spring forward, as if it had been waiting for her words all along, and a keening cry passes your lips-- Wanda-- as your world is whitened by your pleasure. Only vaguely aware of Wanda’s lips pressing repeatedly against your cheek, her fingers gently guiding you through. 
When you come down from your high, from the toe-curling pleasure that she had given you, and your vision clears enough for you to see Wanda, still hovering over you, with that same look of reverence on her face from before, you couldn’t help the almost shy smile that appears. Something that causes Wanda to dip forward to place a chaste kiss against the smile, so tender from the hungry ones that she had bestowed on you only a moment before. 
“How the fuck could he ever leave someone like you?” It’s said in a low voice, one that you don’t think you were supposed to her, but her clear confusion fills you with warmth, nonetheless. Emerald eyes raise to meet your own gaze, softness suffused within it. “Will you give me that honor, baby? The honor of making you forget.” 
Your earlier words, said in a mournful whisper, come back to you instantly: I wish I could find someone that’d treat me in the way he never did, that’d show me what love truly is, and make me forget about all that he’s put me through. 
“I’m over a decade older than you, Wanda,” you rebuke. “Why the hell would you want to be with someone like me?” 
Her brow furrows. “Why wouldn’t I?” She lowers herself, finally pressing her body against yours, allowing you to feel the warmth of her skin, she places another gentle kiss to your lips. “You’re the only woman that’s ever made me feel like this. I don’t give a damn how old you are, I don’t give a damn if Natasha has an issue with it, I’ll talk to her, all I care about is that I get to have you like this again. That I get to love you in the way that you deserve to be.” Emerald eyes sharpen, her grip on your body tightening. “In a way that only I could ever give you.” 
Your eyes flutter shut at her words, something you’ve been wanting to hear for so long. Could you actually take this plunge? Allow yourself to take such a huge risk? Potentially cause a crisis with your daughter and Westview at large? What if it didn’t work out? 
What if it did? The gentle voice of your conscience counters. What if this is your chance at finally being happy? At finally finding the one person you’ve been searching for? Are you really going to let that pass you by? 
You didn’t know how this was going to turn out, how any of this would end up snowballing into years down the line, but as your eyes open and you peer into emerald green, a color that had enchanted you since you first looked upon it, you know your answer instantly-- have known it for longer than the question even being posed. 
“Yes.” 
Wanda’s answering smile, bright with her happiness, is all you see before she descends onto your mouth again, clearly wanting to show you everything that you’d now be experiencing from this point on. 
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crystalheart11 · 9 months
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