sgm616

[sgm616]

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰-𝐭𝐨

i’m not someone who posts writing advice so i know this is random, but i used to struggle with writing smut and created this list to make it easier. i feel like this might help some people, so i’m posting it on here :)

→ will keep updating this whenever i find more

18+ MINORS DNI

words and phrases for…

…vaginas:

general

- pussy

- folds

- core

- heat

- cunt

- slit

- entrance

descriptions

- tight

- swollen (clit)

- dripping/soaking/drenched

- puffy

- leaking

- fluttering walls

- clenching around

- sensitive

- wet and needy

- slick with arousal

- quivering

fingering

- thumb their clit

- tease their entrance

- curl fingers inside

- scissors fingers apart

- pump fingers in and out

- rub tight circles over their clit

- over their folds

- drag fingertips along their slit

- press knuckles deep

- hook fingers inside

oral

- suck their clit into your mouth

- lap at their folds

- flick tongue over their clit

- trace their entrance with your tongue

- drink them down

- groan into their heat

- drag tongue from entrance to clit

- wrap lips around their sensitive bud

- sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against their cunt

- hold their hips down as they grind into your mouth

vibrator

- press the vibrator against their clit

- drag the buzzing toy over their entrance

- hold the toy against them until they beg

- push it deep and leave it there

- edge them with slow pulses

- set it to the highest setting and watch them come undone

…penises:

descriptions

- precum-oozing tip

- aching cock

- throb hotly

- cum shoots out in spurts

- heavy and twitching

- swollen with need

- slick with precum

- pulsing against their palm

- veiny and thick

- pressing against the fabric

- tip throbbing

oral

- hollow cheeks around them

- tongue swirling over the tip

- bobbing head up and down their shaft

- gagging around their length

- lips wrapped tightly around

- suckling at the head

- drool dripping down their cock

- holding the base as they thrust into your mouth

- slurping around them

- moaning against their length

hand

- pump with hand

- (pump) to full mast

- thumb swiping over the tip

- stroke from base to tip

- squeeze and twist on the upstroke

- grip tightening with each jerk

- slow, teasing strokes

- thumb pressing against the slit

- letting precum coat their fingers

- rubbing against their own stomach

…(afab) bodies:

nipples

- dusty rose

- perky

- pinch

- roll (tongue over)

- suck/suckle

- lick stripe over

- flick

- rub

- tug

- graze teeth over

- tease with fingertips

- harden under their tongue

- pebbling under their touch

hips

- bucking against them

- grinding down

- fingers digging into flesh

- guiding their movements

- pinned in place

- rolling in slow circles

- jerk forward in need

thighs

- clench around their waist

- soft against their hands

- shaking from pleasure

- held open by firm hands

- straddling them with ease

- squeezing around their hips

stomachs

- tensing with every thrust

- shudder under their touch

- arch from pleasure

- slick with sweat

- soft and warm beneath their palm

butts

- gripping tight in both hands

- spanking just enough to hear them gasp

- holding them still while they take every inch

- grinding down against them

- fingers slipping between their cheeks

…sex (p in v/strap in v):

missionary

- hips rolling against theirs

- thrust back into someone

- pull out and thrust back in

- fuck (cock/strap) into someone

- body slamming against the others

- pound into

- hook legs around their waist

- hold their wrists down

from the back

- hands gripping their hips tight

- arching deeper for them

- hair wrapped around their fingers

- slapping against their skin

- hitting deeper from this angle

- bending them further down

- hands pinning them in place

- breath hot against their shoulder

from underneath/on top of them

- thrust up into

- bounce up and down

- rocking hips in slow waves

- grinding down to feel every inch

- holding onto their shoulders for leverage

- hands gripping their waist, guiding the rhythm

general

- push/pull hips

- walls tighten around

- guide oneself into place

- hips jerk (giver)

- pull away so only the head/tip is inside

- push oneself deeper

- rock ones hips

- ease it into someone inch by inch

- piston something into

- shallow thrusts before slamming in deep

- slow, teasing strokes before going rough

- fingers gripping at skin for stability

…orgasms:

- feel it build up

- come undone (around someone)

- fuck then through their orgasm

- shake apart in their arms

- ride out their high

- eyes rolling back as pleasure crashes over them

- pulsing around them, milking every drop

general words & phrases:

- bounce

- writhe

- squirm

- moan

- cry/whimper/whine

- rut

- twitch

- chest heaving

- ride

- depths

- nestled into

- never break pace

- back arching into their mouth

- clutching at the sheets

- gripping onto their shoulders

- hands fisting in their hair

- leaving marks behind

- gasping out their name

- skin slick with sweat

- desperate for more

- dragging nails down their back

- whispers of “please” in between moans

- legs trembling afterward

…positions:

classic positions

- missionary → deep eye contact, body pressed flush together, legs wrapped around their waist

- doggy style → hands gripping their hips, arching deeper, hair pulled back, skin slapping against skin

- cowgirl/reverse cowgirl → riding on top, hands braced on their chest/stomach, rolling hips, bouncing up and down

- spooning → pressed up against their back, slow deep thrusts, hand slipping between their legs

- side-lying → one leg hooked over their hip, lazy grinding, deep and slow strokes

- against the wall → legs wrapped around their waist, pinned in place, struggling to keep balance

- lap riding → straddling them, arms draped over their shoulders, rocking in their lap

intense positions

- bent over the table/desk → hands flat against the surface, back arched, helpless against their thrusts

- standing from behind → held up by strong arms, struggling to keep balance, deep and rough strokes

- pinned against a surface → back pressed against the wall, legs spread, trapped in place

- on their knees → forced to take it, submissive position, gripping onto their thighs for stability

- over the edge of the bed → hips dangling off, head thrown back, deep and unrelenting thrusts

- folded in half → legs pinned to their chest, completely open, deeper penetration

- one leg hooked over shoulder → allows for deeper angle, rough and desperate movements

soft & intimate positions

- face to face, foreheads touching → whispering against their lips, slow and sensual movements

- straddling while kissing → soft rolls of the hips, holding each other close, hands tangled in hair

- entangled limbs → wrapping around each other, slow grinding, deep eye contact

- lazy morning sex → half-asleep, sleepy rocking, breath moans

- holding hands while thrusting → vulnerable, fingers laced together, slow and passionate

risky/public positions

- backseat of a car → cramped, fogged-up windows, hands gripping at leather seats

- bathroom stall → quiet gasps, trying not to get caught, one hand bracing against the wall

- library/study room → pushed up against the bookshelves, biting their lip to stay silent

- pool/hot tub → water adding to the sensation, gripping the edge for support

- party hookup → corner of a dark room, drunken whispers, hands sneaking under clothes

…wlw positions

classic and intimate positions

- scissoring (tribbing) → legs intertwined, grinding against each other, slick heat pressing together

- face sitting → straddling their face, thighs trembling as they’re eaten out, hands gripping their hair

- lying between their legs → one partner on top, grinding against their thigh or pressing their clit against them

- mutual masturbation → lying side by side, fingers working between each other’s legs, watching the other fall apart

- kneeling between their legs → holding their thighs open, diving in

- reverse face sitting → sitting on their face but facing away, giving a perfect view of their back arching

fingering positions

- straddling while fingering → one on top, hips rolling down while fingers pump deep

- pinned down and fingered → wrists held above their head, completely at their mercy

- facing each other, both using fingers → legs tangled, staring into each other’s eyes as they bring each other closer

…phrases/things that are HOT

- sucking breast through the thin fabric of their top/their bra

- cock so painfully stiff it twitches against their stomach

[sgm616]

Ovulate. | w. maximoff

summary: in which wanda wants to try for a family.

warnings: top!wanda, smut, cumstrap, forced breeding, manipulation, dubcon, bondage, fingering, oral, i want to have wanda’s children, wanda please get me pregnant, i would trash my birth control for you, did i say that out loud?

this post is for 18+ only. minors: do not interact.

masterlist.

The conversation hadn't gone over as well as Wanda planned. It was something that had been on her mind for weeks, and when she sat down and finally told you she wanted to start a family, your reaction wasn't entirely what she had expected.

You didn't explicitly say that you never wanted to have kids. In fact, you eventually reiterated that you did want kids eventually, after the shock of Wanda's sudden admittance had faded away. You told her that you were just unsure and didn't want to commit to such a big decision yet. While you were surprised that Wanda had told you this desire of hers, it wasn't an unseen forthcoming.

Wanda had made it clear to you through several bouts in the bedroom over your time together that she had a breeding kink. From filling you up with fake cum straps and whispering in your ear how much she wanted to breed you as she fucked you, it was no doubt something she thoroughly enjoyed. You enjoyed it just as much, but you always thought it was just a sex thing, and not that Wanda actually wanted to breed you. The biological constraints between the two of you wouldn't allow Wanda's desires to be truly fulfilled anyways, or at least that's what you thought.

You didn't know that Wanda had been experimenting with the extent of her magic. She'd been mastering reality distortion and spontaneous creation as of recent, and after long sessions of experimenting while you were out grocery shopping or whatnot, she had managed to master something she had always dreamed of.

But she wanted to prep you up before she showed you her new trick.

While you were clueless about Wanda's discovery and subsequent plan, it wasn't hard to notice her change in behavior. A few weeks after the conversation about kids, she started being unusually sweet. Wanda was always a very nice and caring partner, but she started to go out of her way with gestures. It started when she came home from work one evening with a bouquet of pink and white orchids.

"What's all this?" you asked as Wanda carried the vase of flowers into the kitchen where you were making dinner. She smiled down at the bouquet and then at you as she brought them to you.

"Just some pretty flowers I saw when I passed the florist today," she casually remarked as you brought your nose to the flowers and sniffed.

"Mmm," you hummed, taking one of the petals and examining it. "Orchids," you recognized the flower. "How did you get these? They're not even in season."

"It’s a really good florist," Wanda said with an edge of humor in her voice, and you looked up at her for a moment, swearing that you saw something dancing across her eyes.

You gave it up to Wanda's relief, looking away as that fog of trusting innocence came over you again. "Well, thank you, babe. They're beautiful." You took the vase from her and leaned up to give her a kiss on the lips that she savored, before you went and placed the orchids on the center of the kitchen table where the sunlight would hit them every morning.

Wanda watched as you went back to cooking, but her eyes remained on the flowers. It was just another witchy thing she had learned—not only did she create the flowers with the bare crimson thread of her fingers, but they were purposed and fashioned to bring an air of fertility into the home.

What really put you off about Wanda's weird behavior was when she stopped having sex with you. She always gave an excuse, like she was tired or she was super busy with something. Wanda was never one to turn down sex, even a quickie in the middle of the night or before work in the morning. It was odd and offputting, and while you couldn't help but wonder if she wasn't attracted to you anymore, Wanda was only saving you so that her plan would be even more pleasurable when it came to fruition.

Wanda also started drawing you candlelit baths every night, giving you gentle massages to your feet and shoulders as you dozed off in the soapy water. She would even sing to you, eventually breaking out into a goofy voice that made you giggle. It was extremely relaxing, but whenever you'd ask her to go get you a glass of wine so you could relax even more, she would refuse and say that it would only give you a headache or make you feel hungover in the morning. You knew one glass of wine was not harmful in any of those ways, but whenever you insisted on getting up and getting a glass for yourself, she would press you back down in the water a little too firmly. You would simply drop the subject and let her continue pampering you, opting to trust that Wanda was always right.

She also found a new brand of multivitamins for the both of you to take, but when she'd bring you yours every night with a glass of water, you'd notice that the ones she took were a slightly different shape and color. You didn't really press it, though, and Wanda was thankful for your rather dumbly dismissive attitude because it even allowed her to swap your birth control pills for placebos without you ever batting one of your pretty little eyelashes.

The only time your curiosity was ever piqued was when you got your period. Wanda was even more helpful than usual, sitting beside you on the couch while you kept a heating pad over your abdomen. You were strangely hormonal, which was probably why you had taken a peek over to Wanda's phone screen that she was typing on while you two were watching a movie.

While your insecurities, given louder voices due to your emotional state, had expected to see her secretively texting someone, she was actually looking at some sort of calendar. She was selecting days of the month that happened to be the current week, and went her thumb went to press a button, you noticed it said "log period."

"What are you doing?" you questioned, and you nearly made Wanda jump out of her skin. Her phone fell to her lap as she looked over at you.

"What?" she asked as calmly as possible, but she was doing a very bad job at that.

"Were you logging your period?" you questioned, finally realizing that it was a period-tracking app.

"Oh," Wanda muttered, picking her phone back up. "Yes, I was." She cleared her throat and closed the app, and you noticed the screen slightly shielded away from you.

"You logged the wrong week," you chuckled, to which Wanda's eyes only widened. "Your period was last week. It's always the week before mine, remember?"

"Oh, right," Wanda breathed before giving a nervous, airy laugh and tucking her hair behind her ear, a telltale Wanda lie detector. You squinted your eyes at her and waited for her to correct her mistake in the app, but she didn't. She only placed her phone on the coffee table and smiled at you, taking your feet and placing them in her lap so she could massage them.

"Why are you acting so weird?" you questioned, feeling more nitpicky than you usually were.

"What? How am I acting weird?"

"Well, you kept asking me a few days ago if I started my period yet," you pointed out, something Wanda didn't think you had noticed. "And you just logged my period in your app, as if you're..."

You trailed off because with a discreet scarlet glow in Wanda's eyes, you suddenly felt super sleepy.

"As if you..." you mumbled, but your head was lulling to the side as you broke out into a yawn. You muttered incoherently as your eyes closed, and then you were asleep. Wanda rubbed your ankles gently and watched you peacefully sleep, feeling excitement well up inside her at what was to come.

+

Wanda was sure to act as normal as possible for the next week or so. You'd been super busy at work, but Wanda as supportive as all get out, doing everything she could to keep you stress-free. When the end of the week came around, you were so relieved to walk through your front door so that the weekend could commence, and you could truly relax.

As you set you bag down, you noticed a red rose petal at your feet. Your eyes lifted and followed a trail of delicate, dark red rose petals leading through the living room and towards the stairs. A small smile curled at your lips as you slowly followed the trail of flowers through the room and up the stairs as they led you down the hallway, scarlet-edged petals slightly curled like a beckoning hand. Of course, they stopped right in front of the closed bedroom door.

Pressing the door open, you were met with the bedroom dimly lit by rows and rows of candles. They were lined along the dresser, reflected by the mirror above it, sat atop the nightstands, and resting along the shelved headboard. You didn’t see Wanda at first, but when she emerged from the dark corner in the room wearing only a maroon robe, your eyes found her.

She was wordless, so you took a step forward. “What’s this?” you asked with a restrained smile and a tremulous voice. Wanda was known for her flashy exhibitions of love, but something this intimate was new to you.

A small smile rested on her lips and assured you as she approached you, hips swaying below her slim waist accentuated by the belt of her robe. From what you could tell, she was naked underneath.

“It’s for you,” she answered calmly as she rounded you, settling herself behind you and slinking her arms around your waist.

“Well, I’d hope so,” you chuckled, feeling a strange sense of nervousness as your eyes fell to the bed where the trail of roses landed and circled around at the floor.

Wanda pulled you against her, letting her chin rest on your shoulder. “Just something special,” she whispered. There was an unfamiliar tone in her voice, a steadiness of something yet revealed. It made your heart beat faster.

Her fingertips tickled your neck as she pushed your hair behind your shoulder. She pressed her lips against the side of your neck softly, her palms pressing flat into your lower belly. You glanced down and watched her stroke her thumb against your stomach gently.

You didn’t feel her hands at your back, but the zipper of your dress was being undone by what you could assume was magic. Then her hands moved to pull the dress down your shoulders herself, and she paused to leave a trail of kisses over your shoulder. You shivered at the feeling, and Wanda let her magic do the rest of the job in letting your dress pool at your ankles.

“Did you have a good day at work?” she asked, running her hands up your bare arms and moving them to the clip of your bra.

You had felt lost in the tranquility of her touch, brought back by the vibration of her quiet voice. “No,” you said simply, “But I’m glad to be home.”

“I’m glad you’re home, too, baby,” she said comfortingly, but you could hear a grin in her voice. When you turned your head to look at her, there was only that same small smile on her lips.

“Is there a special occasion today that I forgot?” you asked as the clip of your bra snapped open, the garment falling down your arms.

“No, there’s no special occasion,” Wanda lied in a whisper as she kissed the corner of your mouth softly. On the contrary, the special occasion was the marked day in her tracker app.

Her hands cupped your bare breasts followed by an intake of breath through your teeth. She massaged your tender flesh carefully, letting her fingertips graze over your hardened nipples and rub them in circles. You sighed and leaned your head back against her shoulder, humming in satisfaction.

Wanda’s mouth attached itself to your neck again, and soon enough her lips were beside your ear. “Get on the bed,” she whispered, and your knees bolted as you found yourself stepping towards the bed, turning to sit down on the edge.

Wanda’s eyes glimmered in content as she knelt, taking one heel off your foot after another. When the second heel was discarded, she brought your foot closer to her mouth and gently kissed the top of it to start a trail to your ankle. Her lips moved up to your knee, and the mere delicacy of them made you shiver. A sense of sleepiness brought about by the low lighting and her gentle touch lidded your eyes as Wanda made her way to your thigh, her hand finding your other one and squeezing it.

Wanda straightened to raise her eyes to yours, head slightly tilted as she examined you. “You look beautiful, baby,” she spoke in a velvety tone so soothing you barely noticed her pulling your panties down your knees. The compliment made you blush, but there was something gnawing at you about how sweet she was being.

“Thank y—“ you began, but with the twirl and the reddening of her fingers, a cloud of magic swooped you off the bed and laid you vertically on it, gently placing you down until your head rested on the pillow. You tilted your chin upwards to see the orange glow of the candles sitting on the headboard. What you didn’t notice before was that some of the orchids Wanda had got you were resting intermittently between the candles. Wouldn’t they have wilted by then?

Wanda stood and crawled onto the bed over you, her eyes shamelessly drinking in every inch of your bare body like it was her meal. Taking your inner thighs, she spread them so that she could place herself between them.

When the door of the bedroom that you had left open was closed shut by her magic, you jumped at first, but Wanda’s voice brought your eyes back to her. “I’m so grateful that you’re mine,” she spoke as she lowered, resting her arms under your thighs to bend your knees. “You’re perfect. You’re kind.” She kissed your inner thigh. “Sweet.” Another kiss, higher up. “Soft.” She gently bit your sensitive flesh, and you jumped at the feeling. Wanda’s jade eyes, darkened suddenly, looked to you with a smirk. “Accepting.”

The uneasiness growing in you was kept quiet by Wanda pressing her lips to your clit. She kissed it softly for a moment before opening her mouth to roll her tongue over it. You shuddered, your exposed nipples hardening further as she lapped at the pulsing nub.

An unknown question formed on your lips but was unable to materialize due to Wanda lowering her tongue to stroke it over your entire heat. Her gentle touches had brought a moisture in you that made her hum, and the vibration pleasured you.

“You always taste so good,” she remarked seemingly to herself as she collected the juices between your folds and savored it. Her hands wrapped around your thighs tightened as she pressed her tongue inside you.

Your eyes closed as Wanda curled her long tongue into you. You felt more sensitive than usual, feeling every inch of her expert muscle that tasted and pleasured you. Your hand came down to find her soft red locks of hair, embedding into them as she continued to eat you sensually.

When Wanda had her fill, she leaned up and licked the remnants of you from her lips, gazing upon your flushed face with a smile. She sat on her knees and bent yours up so that your feet were flat on the mattress, then moved her hand to you. She didn’t give you any warning before sinking two of her fingers inside you.

“Wanda,” you breathed as her long digits slid inside you with ease. You were fully wet by now, and Wanda watched your glistening cunt gratefully take her fingers.

As aroused as you were, there was resistance when she added a third finger almost immediately. When you whined a little, Wanda scolded herself for going too fast—she was just so excited for the main event.

“So tight,” she whispered as she changed her pace, going from slow pumps to hard thrusts. You were squirming now, the twinges of pain leaving you to bloom into pleasure. Wanda was focused on your pussy, biting her lip and adoring it as she fingered you.

As her fingers began to coax you nearer a climax, she stopped to fan them outwards inside of you, pushing against your walls. Pain resided in you, and you winced. “Wanda,” you pleaded.

“I’m stretching you out, darling,” she said, eyes entirely focused between your legs and her voice distant. “You need to be prepared,” she said quieter, and her slip up made your eyebrows sew together.

“Prepared?” you breathlessly echoed, and she stopped moving inside you. “For what?” Her eyes finally flicked to yours, her pupils swarming. Her face was darkened mostly but illuminated by what little orange hue the candles provided.

Wanda removed her fingers from you and brought them to the belt of her robe to slowly undo it, her eyes never leaving yours. When the silky robe dropped to the mattress around her, you took in her beautiful nude figure. It was nearly enough to wipe the question from your mind, but it was still pressing. Before you could repeat it, scarlet threads of magic flashed through her motioning fingers, and your eyes fell to her hips.

Through her magic, a strap formed on Wanda, larger and longer than anything you’d ever taken. It was crimson in color and seemingly attached to her body. A ravenous look shadowed Wanda’s face, but as she crawled over you and came closer to the candlelight above, it was again illuminated.

The strap touched your thigh as Wanda made her way up, and you noticed a twitch in her expression. “When did you buy that?” you asked, trying to calculate when Wanda was able to go out and buy it and hide it from you until now.

“I made it,” she answered, but before you could ask how, magic latched around your wrists and tied them above your head. You glanced up at your bound wrists and then to Wanda questioningly. “It’s just a precaution,” she whispered, running her fingers down your cheek.

“For?”

“In case you try to deny me,” she said with an edge of threat, moving her fingers to drag them down your lips. You could smell your arousal on them.

“You know I never deny you,” you whispered when her fingers were on your chin. They moved down the column of your throat, pressing firmly there until they arrived to your chest. “How did you make the strap?” you bluntly repeated, determined to know what the meaning behind all of this was, because you were surer than ever that there certainly was one.

“With my magic, of course,” she answered you as she took one of your breasts in her hand. “It’s my finest creation,” she said with a crawling smirk. “It has many abilities, one of which being that when I slide it inside that wet pussy of yours, I will be able to feel every—single—inch—of you.” She moved it against your thigh again, and she shuddered.

The fact surprised you and aroused you all at once. You could feel hot desire seeping into you as Wanda stared down at you breathlessly, obviously trying to tide herself off from taking you wildly right then. What you didn’t know was that just as you were going to be a vessel for Wanda, the strap was a vessel in its own.

Unable to keep herself away from you any longer, Wanda tilted her hips upward and let the tip of her strap rub against your folds. Her eyes fluttered shut, her hand tightly squeezing your breast.

As the tip moved to your entrance, she pushed it in just a little, and merely the bulge of its head stretched the rim of your hole. You squirmed a little, knowing that it was going to hurt but anticipating it with steaming lust.

A softness returned to Wanda’s eyes as she steadied herself between your legs, holding your knees. “Are you ready?” she husked, her own voice quivering with excitement.

“Yes,” you breathed, about to reach out and touch her, but remembering that your wrists were tied. It made you remember how she was expecting you to deny her, and how she spoke of you needing to be prepared, but before any swirling suspicions could arise, she was entering you.

Wanda slid her cock slowly inside you, and you watched the way her eyes squeezed shut and her lips fell open. Your pussy stretched and throbbed painfully as she burrowed herself inside you, and you winced at the stinging pain. Wanda moaned as she continued entering you to the very hilt, until the tip of her cock pushed into your cervix and threatened to squeeze past it.

“Ah,” you whined, hissing at the pain that echoed even after Wanda stilled herself. She held your hips with a bruising grip, leaning forward and planting her forehead into your chest to draw slow breaths. She tried her best to stay still, knowing that you needed to adjust, but the sensation was unlike any pleasure she had ever felt before. It was overwhelming her, and it took every ounce of restraint to keep still to the point that she was in as much pain as you were.

Right when you were calming down, she started to drag her strap out of you, and the pain returned. Wanda moaned as she slid against your tight, warm walls that were wetting her cock. You were so soft and throbbing, and she felt a primal urge to ruin your pussy and tear you apart. She breathed in an air of self control and opened her lust-drunk eyes to look at you. “I can feel every inch of your soft, sloppy pussy,” she whispered, hips stuttering when she was nearly all the way out just to slide herself back in a bit harder.

You were biting your tongue so hard it threatened to bleed, and Wanda could tell that you were in pain, drawing her out of her haze. “You can take it, baby,” she cooed you with a strained voice, bringing her hand to your cheek to caress it. “You’re doing so good for me. You’re so good—fuck, you’re so…” She lost her wording, hanging her head and grunting as she filled you up with her cock, snapping her hips once she was all the way inside you just to drive herself past your cervix.

You cried out at the feeling, turning your head to the side as tears pricked at your eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” Wanda breathed, taking your face and turning it to her. “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to,” she whispered, fluttering kisses onto your lips and face, kissing away the tears that fled from your eyes. Her tongue licked the salty tears from her lips as she caressed your face and gazed down at you. The candlelight was flickering in her pupils, illuminating the faint line of sweat on her forehead.

“You’re too big,” you whined when she dragged out and pushed it back in again, even though you could feel the twirls of pleasure coming through.

“Take it,” Wanda said, and it came out as a borderline growl. She realized this and added in a much softer tone, “You can do it.”

Wanda couldn’t help herself. She picked up the pace just a bit, and after a few painful thrusts that made you feel like you were going to pass out, you could feel the flourish of pleasure inside you. Your walls stretched and pulsed around her cock, your lower stomach heating up as a soft moan drew itself from your lips.

Wanda was beside herself in pleasure. The blood was rushing to her face and spreading all throughout her neck with the tint of the rose petals on the floor. Resolute fingers found the soft flesh of your throat and pressed firmly. Pausing, she bent your knees upwards and pressed them against your chest, allowing her to fuck you deeply and reach into your pried open cervix. She was trembling from all the pleasure and anticipation of what she was going to do to you.

Inebriated by lust, Wanda spoke, “I can’t wait to plant my seed in you.”

It was a phrase you’d heard tumble out of Wanda’s lips before, but something about it being said in that moment made your eyes widen.

Wanda grinned down at you as she pounded you harder. “You’re going to be such a great mother to my children.”

Panic set in. “Wanda,” you said lowly, and while she slowed her thrusts, she did not stop. “Wanda… what did you do?”

“What I am going to do is breed you like my little cumslut,” she grunted, her fingers tightening around your throat. You struggled to breathe, and she eased her hand.

“What do you mean?” you choked. Was she being serious? Was this just another one of her kinky talks during sex? You were certain it was not just that.

“There’s a reason I’ve been waiting until you’re ovulating to fuck you—and swapping out your birth control pills,” she breathed, feeling like she was about to cum. She slowed down, taking slow breaths and closing her eyes so she could stave herself off.

Your eyes widened as cold panic filled you. It sounded outrageous at first, like nothing Wanda would ever do, but the dots were finally connecting in your mind. She had been logging your period to track when you were ovulating. She was swapping out your pills, giving you fertility supplements, giving you baths to make you stress-free, not letting you drink so you’d be prime and fertile.

As these realizations rolled over your brain like boulders, Wanda was picking up the pace again, cursing and grabbing at your hips with force. She leaned harder onto you, folding your body up beneath her. Your knees were pressed between your shoulders and hers, heels resting on the expanse of her back. Her bare skin was hot and humid against yours, and she looked so beautiful with her face contorted in pleasure, savoring the feeling of your wet, sloshing cunt taking every thick inch she was giving you.

As the panic rang like a bell inside you, you couldn’t help but love it. You couldn’t help but tuck her further against you with your feet, to arch your back off the bed and moan, to imagine what you would feel when the impending moment came.

It was coming, for sure. Wanda was getting unbearably close now and so were you, but a defining moment of clarity came. As much as you wanted it, Wanda had been deceiving you. You still weren’t entirely sold on the idea of being pregnant right now, and although there were measures to take afterwards, you listened to the panic over your pleasure.

“Wanda, don’t,” you whispered, but she barely heard you through her grunts and forceful thrusts. She was deeper inside you than she had ever been before, bulging through your lower stomach. “Don’t cum inside me.”

Wanda’s eyes popped open. All this planning and expecting, and she still was not able to do something against your wishes. Disappointment filled her quickly, and she begged desperately.

“Please,” she whispered, pressing her lips against yours in a fiery kiss. “Please let me.” She could do it anyways if she wanted to, given your rather compromising position, but she wanted you to want it, too.

You wanted it. You wanted it so bad with every primal urge in your body, with every throb of your core. You hesitated, letting the last pleads of logic fade from your mind.

“Please, baby—fuck!” She nearly came, having to slow down to stop herself. “Please let me cum inside you. Let me breed you. I want to make you mine for good. I want you to be pregnant, to have my baby.” She kissed you sloppily again, pressing her forehead against yours and panting. “Please.”

You hesitated for only a moment longer before you gave in, desire overwhelming you. “Yes,” you whispered, catching her lips with yours. “Yes, Wanda, breed me. Please fucking breed me.”

Wanda breathed out and grabbed your hips, pushing her face into your neck and hammering into you, snapping her hips so hard that her skin slapped against yours. She fucked herself into your uterus, and your moans were simultaneous as you both came harder than ever before.

Wanda poured herself into your open womb, her hot seed filling your insides up to the brim. It seemed to be endless, gushing into you until your lower belly swelled. Wanda made noises you’d never heard her make before, her teeth clamping down onto your neck as her hips trembled between yours. She was still pushing herself desperately into you, so deep that your eyes crossed and your legs shook.

“Fuck,” she breathed, rubbing her face against your chest before raising her head to look down at you. You were both panting and trembling as you came down from your highs, and she kept herself buried deep inside you so as to keep her cum in you.

As she gazed down at you with a glimmering smile, you couldn’t help but whisper, “Now go get me a plan B.”

Wanda’s eyes widened and her smile faded. “Hell no.” You broke out into laughter, and soon Wanda cracked a smile as she realized you were joking. “Maybe our kid will get your sense of humor, but I sure as hell don’t.”

[sgm616]

GIRLKISSER + TOP ELIZABETH OLSEN ALEXA PLAY THAT SHOULD BE ME…

[sgm616]

local witch just trying to live the suburban life with her wife and kid and bun but witches keep appearing to throw down (AU in which they're just also regular-ish witches) (where agatha has a Reputation but also her siphoning isn't as lethal)

[sgm616]

not to sound like a slut but i'd let them take turns with me. like back to back. before i can catch my breath. all.night.long

[sgm616]

🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

[sgm616]

ELIZABETH OLSEN GIRL KISSER IT'S COMING!!!

(sorry for the low quality, this is straight from the movie trailer - the Deutsch version; you can find it on youtube as "the assessment trailer (Deutsch)

[sgm616]

Venus in Bloom (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: A reckless mistake with a love potion leaves you at the mercy of two insatiable succubi, their supernatural hunger driving them to claim every inch of you without restraint. Between the claws, the fangs, and the teasing magic that coils around their skin, you quickly learn what it truly means to be devoured by a succubus.

-OR-

As it turns out magical creatures of lust and love potions do not mix which results in you getting fucked by Agatha and Rio, like a lot, but it's your fault really

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, Agatha and Rio are succubi so monster fucking, reader is a potions witch, top agathario, bottom reader, magic cock (A has, Reader recv), oral (Reader recv), thigh grinding (R does), porn with little to no plot, overstimulation, squirting, breeding/creampie, threesome, face-sitting

Words: 4.7k

A/N: Everyone is doing valentines fics and I'm not but this includes a love potion so I'm going to pretend it was on purpose 😂 Requested fic :)

AO3 | Masterlist

The scent of crushed herbs and simmering elixirs curled through the air, thick with magic and lingering heat from the flickering candlelight. You moved swiftly through your workshop, the sleeves of your robe pushed up to your elbows, hands busy grinding a handful of dried hibiscus petals into a fine powder. The pestle moved in slow, rhythmic circles, a familiar motion that should have been meditative but your mind wandered.

The cauldron in the centre of the room bubbled gently, its contents shimmering with an iridescent sheen. A single drop of the wrong ingredient could shift its purpose entirely, and yet, despite knowing this, you barely spared it a glance as you reached for a vial of honey-thick nectar resting beside you. You were distracted.

It wasn’t your fault, not really.

Not when two succubi shared your home, moving like sin incarnate through your space, leaving temptation in their wake as effortlessly as breathing. Agatha and Rio were creatures of hunger—lust woven into the very fabric of their existence—and while they spared you from their predatory nature, they did nothing to temper the pull of their presence.

And, as if conjured by your thoughts alone, Rio’s laughter drifted in from the other room.

It was a warm, low sound, filled with mischief, the kind of laugh that always meant trouble. You exhaled through your nose, setting the vial down with careful precision. Whatever she was up to, it was best not to get involved. Not when you were this close to finishing your work.

The love potion had been an afterthought—a test, an experiment, something to keep stored away for research rather than practical use. You had no intention of actually using it. Succubi had no need for artificial desire; their own abilities surpassed anything that could be brewed in a bottle. Still, curiosity had led you to concoct it, blending rare aphrodisiacs with dreamroot essence, a few drops of moon-kissed wine, and a dash of honeyed rose oil.

It was potent. Dangerously so.

And you should have tucked it away the moment you were done, sealed it within a warded chest where it could do no harm. But you hadn’t.

Instead, the vial sat unguarded amidst your collection of more harmless elixirs, the deep crimson liquid glistening under the candlelight. A temptation disguised as an innocent draught.

And, as fate would have it, Rio’s curiosity was as boundless as her appetite.

You didn’t notice when she entered, didn’t see the gleam of intrigue in her sharp golden eyes as she plucked the vial from its resting place. The moment your back was turned, she lifted it to inspect the contents, swirling the liquid idly.

It smelt… expensive. Rich. Decadent, like spiced fruit and something dangerously sweet. Her forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air, and her pupils dilated with interest.

This was new.

She liked new things.

Without a second thought, she slipped out of the workshop, the vial tucked between her fingers, her mind already racing with the possibilities.

—

Agatha was lounging in the sitting room when Rio found her, half-draped across the velvet couch, one arm resting lazily over the back. She looked every inch the predator she was, dark eyes hooded with a perpetual, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She was dressed down, her usual structured coat abandoned in favour of her half-unbuttoned shirt and loose slacks. Her feet were bare, her hair still mussed from sleep, yet she exuded control.

Rio slid up beside her, draping herself over the armrest with casual ease. "Brought you something," she purred, twirling the bottle between her fingers before offering it up with a smug grin.

Agatha arched a brow, reaching for it without hesitation. "What’s this?"

"Something Y/N made," Rio hummed, watching as Agatha uncorked the vial. "Figured it’s one of their fancy elixirs. Thought you might like it."

Agatha inhaled slowly, rolling the scent over her tongue. There was something odd about it, but it wasn’t unpleasant. On the contrary, it smelt delicious. A rush of warmth tingled at the back of her throat, her body responding instinctively before she had even taken a sip.

Rio should have stopped her.

She could have stopped her.

But she didn’t.

She just watched as Agatha tipped the bottle back and swallowed it whole.

It hit her like wildfire.

One moment, Agatha was lounging with an air of effortless control, and the next, she was bolting upright, her spine going rigid, her pupils blown wide.

Heat. Unrelenting, all-consuming heat.

She sucked in a breath through her teeth, her claws digging into the upholstery as she gripped the edge of the cushion, bracing herself. The burn was instantaneous, roaring through her veins, pooling deep in her core.

What the fuck—

Her mind reeled, but her body knew exactly what it wanted.

She was starving.

It was wrong, unnatural. Succubi didn’t need help feeling desire—they were desire—and yet, whatever had been in that vial had amplified her hunger tenfold. Her tail flicked behind her restlessly, her breath coming short and sharp, and her fangs throbbed with the urge to sink into something soft, something pliant.

Rio blinked at her, watching as her typically controlled partner came undone in real-time. "Uh… Ags?"

Agatha snapped her gaze toward her, and Rio visibly stiffened.

Agatha was never desperate. She was the calm one, the controlled one, the one who always kept her hunger in check. But not now.

Now, her pupils were nothing but thin golden rings swallowed by black, her lips parted just enough to reveal the sharp gleam of her canines, her chest rising and falling far too quickly.

Rio’s fingers twitched involuntarily, her own body reacting to the shift in the air. Power, heat, and lust. The room was suddenly thick with it, suffocating, heavy enough to drown in.

And then, as if realising exactly what had happened, Agatha turned her head toward the workshop—toward you.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "I need them," she growled, voice lower, rougher, her control already slipping.

Rio exhaled sharply, eyes widening. "Oh. Oh."

For the first time in centuries, she might have actually fucked up.

And you were about to find out just how badly.

—

You felt the air in the cottage thicken, charged with something potent—something unnatural. It slithered through the dimly lit space like invisible smoke, curling around you, settling into your lungs with every breath you took.

Something was wrong.

The magic in the walls whispered warnings, the candles flickering wildly in their holders despite the absence of a breeze. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, an instinctual prickle at the back of your neck telling you that something powerful had been unleashed.

And then you felt two ravenous, predatory forces—one sharp and crackling like lightning, the other slow-burning and consuming like an ever-hungry fire. The tether between you thrummed, an invisible thread of magic stretched taut, vibrating with a heat that wasn’t entirely your own.

You turned just as Agatha stepped into the doorway.

Her composure—her usual air of effortless, knowing control—was shattered. What stood before you wasn’t the measured, cunning succubus who prided herself on restraint. No, this was something else entirely.

Her pupils were nothing but dark pools, golden irises reduced to thin, molten rings. Her breathing was slow and deliberate, like a creature struggling to leash itself, though every inhale seemed to make it worse. Her normally neat attire was in disarray, her shirt rumpled, collar askew as though she’d clawed at her own skin in a desperate attempt to cool herself down.

She looked starved.

A soft thud behind her signalled Rio’s arrival, and when your gaze flickered past Agatha, you found her in a similar state—if not worse.

Unlike Agatha, who was still barely clinging to her composure, Rio was already half-feral. Her lips were parted, sharper fangs glinting in the candlelight. Her tail lashed behind her, the spade-shaped tip curling, uncurling, betraying the sheer magnitude of her agitation.

And when she exhaled—you felt it.

A heat coiled low in your gut, winding itself around your ribs, pressing. It wasn’t meant to be for you, not directly—you were not prey, you were not a target—but their hunger had grown too wild, too untethered, and their instincts didn’t care for the technicalities.

Agatha’s fingers flexed at her sides, her knuckles nearly white with restraint. Barely leashed, barely holding on.

“Y/N.”

Your name came out low, more exhale than word, more prayer than plea.

And by the Divine Mother, that was dangerous because succubi didn’t beg. Succubi took.

Your pulse quickened, but not from fear. This wasn’t the carefully measured seduction you were used to. It wasn’t playful temptation—the slow game they so often relished—this was raw.

Primal.

Uncontrolled.

You swallowed hard, taking a slow, deliberate step toward them, and the reaction was instantaneous.

Rio’s breath hitched; she crossed and uncrossed her arms, as though trying to shield herself from the unbearable ache thrumming through her body. Agatha’s jaw clenched, her fingers twitching like she wanted to reach for you but knew she shouldn’t.

"Tell me what happened," you said, voice steady despite the way the energy licked at your skin, despite the way your own magic—so much weaker than theirs, so mortal—shuddered under the pressure of it.

Rio let out a breathless, shaky laugh, but it held none of her usual mirth. "Funny story," she muttered. "I may have… kind of… accidentally… given Agatha a potion."

You frowned, tilting your head. "What potion?"

Agatha’s nails dug into the doorframe, her chest rising and falling, every breath seeming to cost her something. "The one you left on your desk."

And just like that, realisation slammed into you.

The love potion.

The highly concentrated, dangerously potent love potion.

The one not meant for actual consumption—especially not by creatures who already thrived on desire.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Your stomach dropped, your breath hitching, not in fear but in sheer, undeniable understanding.

Succubi were designed to handle lust. It was their nature, their essence. But they were also designed to control it. To wield it rather than succumb to it.

This potion?

It had burnt through their natural restraints like kindling on an open flame.

And now they were left unsated, unable to quench the inferno no matter how hard they tried.

Agatha let out a harsh breath, her fingers twitching. "Y/N," she said again, and this time it was a warning.

Because she was so close to losing what little control she had left.

Because she was starving for something only you could give her.

You felt the pull, the same one that had always existed between you, the one that was usually tempered by their restraint but now burnt, raw and untethered. They needed you.

Not as prey.

Not as a conquest.

But as something else entirely.

And maybe, just maybe, you were more than willing to oblige.

Agatha’s breath hitched as her last thread of restraint snapped. In a blink, she was on you, pressing you down into the bed with a force that sent a shiver straight through your core. Her claws curled into the fabric around your wrists, pinning you in place as the heat of her radiated into your skin.

Her pupils were nothing but thin rings of gold, swallowed by the black hunger of her gaze. Her body shifted against you, the air rippling with raw, unfiltered magic as her succubus nature surfaced in full. Claws elongated, her fangs peeking past parted lips, the scent of heady desire thick between you.

Behind you, Rio slinked in with practiced ease, her body curving around yours as she caged you between them. You barely had time to gasp before she hooked her legs around yours, spreading them open effortlessly. Her voice was a molten whisper against your ear, her lips brushing over your skin as she chuckled.

“Fuck, I’ve never seen her like this before,” she murmured, her tail curling teasingly around your thigh. “You really should’ve kept that potion locked away, huh?”

Your pulse pounded against your ribs. There was no escape, no space to think or breathe, but you didn’t want to escape. Not when they were both so desperate, their need vibrating through every fibre of your being.

Agatha growled low, the sound vibrating through your bones as she leaned down, her lips ghosting over your throat. “I need you,” she rasped, a confession that sent heat pooling between your thighs.

Her magic surged, the air around her shimmering as she shape-shifted, the scent of pure, unfiltered want thickening. Your breath hitched as she ground against you—a new, unmistakable bulge in her slacks pressed firmly against your core. Even through the layers, the heat of it was overwhelming.

Rio let out an appreciative hum, her fingers trailing down your arms, tracing the shape of your body as she pressed teasing kisses along your shoulder. “Oh, she’s really gone,” she purred, voice thick with amusement. “You’ve made our dear Agatha completely lose control. I wonder what she’ll do to you.”

There was no teasing, no slow buildup. Agatha was too far gone for that. With a snarl, she made quick work of your clothing, her claws slicing through the fabric at your crotch, tearing it open without care. A strangled moan escaped you as the cool air met with your heated skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Agatha pressing flush against you, her hips rolling, grinding against your exposed core.

She exhaled shakily, her composure unravelling as she reached between you, unbuttoning her slacks, just enough to free herself, just enough to wrap a clawed hand around the thick, twitching cock she had conjured, her breath catching as she stroked herself once and then twice, a needy, desperate sound spilling from her lips at the sensation. Her lips parted, panting, utterly wrecked with hunger.

Rio’s fingers danced along your stomach, teasing, but she wasn’t cruel enough to delay things. She tilted your chin, brushing her lips over your ear. “She’s going to ruin you, love,” she whispered. “And you’re going to love every second of it.”

Then Rio groaned, pressing her forehead to the back of your neck, her fingers gripping your thighs as she rutted against you, the heat of her own need searing through layers of clothing.

“Fuck,” Agatha muttered, almost pained. “I can’t—I need—”

She cut herself off, lining herself up, swiping her tip through your arousal, groaning deep at the wet heat of you. The sensation sent a shiver through her entire frame, her claws digging into the mattress as she forced herself to savour it, to hold back even a fraction of her need.

Her body trembled with restraint she barely had. And then she gave in.

The first thrust was deep, a sharp stretch that had your back arching, a cry spilling from your lips as she filled you. Agatha moaned, a guttural, broken sound as she bottomed out, her forehead pressing against yours.

She started with slow, deep strokes, but it wasn’t long before the potion’s effects overrode any semblance of patience she had left. Her pace turned frenzied, hips pistoning into you with a force that had the bed rocking beneath you.

Rio held you steady, her tail coiling around your waist, her breath hot against your ear as she murmured sweet, filthy praises about how good you looked taking Agatha like this, how wrecked you sounded. She kept you grounded, kept you from unravelling too quickly—but even she couldn’t hold back forever.

The moment Agatha came, a strangled moan spilling from her lips as she shuddered against you, Rio let out a frustrated whine, her fingers tightening around your thighs.

“My turn,” she huffed.

Before you could catch your breath, they were moving you with supernatural ease, handling your body like you were made of nothing but air. You barely had time to register the shift before you found yourself straddling Rio’s face, her forked tongue flicking out in anticipation, her golden eyes blown wide with lust as she watched you hover mere inches away.

Your fingers instinctively wrapped around her horns, gripping them for balance—and the moment you did, Rio gasped, her eyes fluttering shut, a whimper escaping her lips as pleasure visibly shot through her. Her tail curled, body arching, her sensitivity betrayed in that single moment of weakness.

Agatha, ever the dominant one, took advantage of your distraction. She positioned herself behind you, pressing her front against your back, her lips ghosting over your shoulder as she reached around, her hands skimming your body. A slow, satisfied hum vibrated through her chest as she traced idle patterns over your sweat-damp skin, her touch both possessive and reverent.

“No one else gets to experience us in this way,” she whispered, her voice dark and edged with something dangerously close to obsession. “You don’t understand how rare this is, do you?” Her sharp teeth grazed the shell of your ear, her breath hot against your skin. “Creatures like us... we don’t get to be unrestrained without consequence. We take. We consume. We drain. We ruin.” Her fingers tightened against your hips. “But you? You survive us. You endure. You take everything we give, and you still breathe.”

She exhaled slowly, pressing a lingering kiss to your pulse, savouring the rapid flutter beneath her lips. “That makes you ours.”

The words sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you, and as if sensing it, Rio let out a pleased hum. Then, without warning, she pulled you down onto her mouth, her tongue immediately lapping at you.

A strangled moan escaped you, your grip on Rio’s horns tightening involuntarily. She let out a shuddering breath against you, her entire body tensing before melting into the mattress again. Her fingers dug into your thighs, firm but reverent, keeping you open for her as she dragged her forked tongue in slow, languid strokes, savouring every reaction she pulled from you.

“Fuck,” Rio groaned, voice muffled against your skin. “You—ngh, you really know how to handle me, huh? Holding my horns like that—” She cut herself off with a needy whimper, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat through you. “Fuck, I could keep you here forever.”

The pleasure was dizzying, an intoxicating blend of firm pressure and teasing flicks that left your nerves singing. Your thighs trembled as you rocked against her, seeking more, losing yourself in the sensation. Every brush of her tongue sent another spark shooting up your spine, winding the coil in your stomach impossibly tight.

Another broken moan spilled from your lips as Rio groaned beneath you, her grip on your hips flexing as she pulled you down harder, determined to make you fall apart completely. Your body trembled, your mind lost in the haze of their touch, of the way they surrounded you, overwhelmed you, worshipped you with a greedy mouth and hands that refused to let you go.

“More,” Rio demanded against you, her voice husky, pleading. “I need more.”

That coil in your stomach twisted impossibly tight, and then—it snapped. Your orgasm tore through you in a dizzying rush, your whole body tensing, back arching as a strangled cry escaped you. The pleasure surged like a storm, white-hot and overwhelming, leaving you shaking in its wake. But Rio didn't stop.

She moaned into you, the vibrations sending aftershocks coursing through your oversensitive nerves. Her tongue lapped at you, relentless, as if she had no intention of letting you come down from the high she'd just wrenched from you. Your thighs trembled, your grip on her horns tightening, half to ground yourself, half in a desperate attempt to push away from the unbearable pleasure.

"Rio—" Your voice came out broken, breathless, but she only growled in response, her fingers digging into your hips to keep you where she wanted. "N-No, I—"

"Yes," Rio murmured, her voice dripping with hunger. "You're not done. I can feel it." She dragged her forked tongue over you again slowly, letting you feel every agonising flick. "You can take it."

Your body jolted at the sensation, torn between oversensitivity and the maddening need she kept feeding. There was no escape—just the sensation of her mouth, the overwhelming heat, the slick slide of her tongue as she worked you open again, coaxing another wave of arousal from you before you even had the chance to recover.

For a while, Agatha seemed content to watch, her hands roaming your body, her claws teasing the sensitive spots she had memorised. But her restraint was never meant to last.

"You’re cruel, Rio," she mused, her voice sultry but laced with impatience. "Making them beg without even using words."

Her fingers slid up your torso, tracing every shiver, every twitch, until they wrapped around your throat in a firm, possessive hold. She didn’t squeeze—just held you there, reminded you of who had you, who was unravelling you so thoroughly.

"But if you’re going to ruin them," Agatha purred, her other hand sliding lower, "then I might as well help."

Soon enough, she was lining herself up once more, her magic cock pressing against your entrance once more, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I can’t wait any longer,” she whispered, her voice strained. “I need to be inside you again.”

She thrust in, and the sensation of both of them at once shattered the last of your composure. A desperate, keening cry tore from your throat, your body quivering, helpless between them. Every nerve burnt, every inch of you claimed, stretched, overwhelmed in the most intoxicating way.

Agatha’s pace was relentless, deep, and hungry, the force of her movements driving you further into Rio’s mouth, into the wet heat that refused to let up. Each thrust rocked you forward, pressing your clit against Rio’s eager tongue, her forked tip lapping at you with an unholy precision.

The room was filled with the sounds of slick heat, muffled cries, and the guttural groans of the two succubi chasing their pleasure. Agatha cursed breathlessly, the magic in her voice thick with desperation as she ground into you, hips snapping with a bruising force.

"So perfect," she murmured, her breath ragged against your ear. "Taking us both like you were made for it."

Rio moaned in agreement beneath you, the vibrations sparking another wave of pleasure that made your muscles seize. Your fingers tangled tighter in her horns, a lifeline against the dizzying sensations, and the sharp gasp that left her lips told you just how much she felt it.

"Fuck," Rio whimpered, the sound muffled, desperate. Her nails dug into your thighs as she rocked her hips against Agatha’s thigh, chasing her own pleasure even as she focused on yours.

Agatha smirked, her control fracturing as she felt the desperate rutting against her leg. "I see you’re just as needy," she taunted, pressing her thigh harder between Rio’s legs, feeling the heat there.

Rio’s whine was high-pitched and desperate, her tongue flicking against your most sensitive spot as she sought her own high. Her thighs trembled, grinding shamelessly, her pleasure tipping over the edge as you tugged on her horns again, sending another sharp jolt of sensation through her. She tensed beneath you, crying out, her body shuddering as she climaxed.

The sensation of her moaning against you, the slick drag of Agatha pounding into you, the heat, the sounds—it was too much. Your own release crashed over you, a blinding, shattering thing that left you breathless, your body shaking violently between them.

Agatha wasn’t far behind. A strangled groan escaped her lips, her hands gripping your waist with bruising force as she buried herself deep, her body shuddering through the force of her release. She pressed you down harder against Rio, grinding through the final aftershocks, her breath hot against your skin.

For a moment, there was only heavy breathing, the scent of sweat and sex thick in the air, the three of you tangled together in a mess of limbs, pleasure, and exhaustion. But their nature and the potion’s hold were unrelenting. No matter how many times they came, the hunger didn’t abate.

They kept going, over and over, their bodies moving in sync, driven by a primal need that refused to fade. You were lost between them, overstimulated, and overwhelmed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

—

Agatha was relentless, her thrusts growing erratic as she chased another orgasm, every snap of her hips sending shockwaves through your exhausted body. Rio, still buried between your thighs, never faltered, her tongue working you open, dragging pleasure from you even as your body trembled violently from the sheer force of it all.

You sobbed out their names, hands weakly clutching at Rio’s horns, thighs trembling against her cheeks. Agatha groaned above you, her grip bruising as she forced you down onto Rio’s mouth, her climax barreling through her with a raw, unfiltered intensity. She cursed, hips stuttering, her body shuddering against yours, as she came inside you yet again.

The sensation of Agatha’s cum dripping out of your overfilled cunt onto her chin sent Rio over the edge, her moan vibrating through you, her hips jerking as she rutted against Agatha’s thigh one last time. But it was the final stroke against your already wrecked bundle of nerves, the last push, that shattered you entirely.

A scream tore from your throat as pleasure consumed you—so intense, so overwhelming that your body seized, every muscle locking up before your climax hit like a tidal wave. The evidence of your orgasm drenched Rio’s face, spilling down her chin and onto the collar of her still-clothed chest.

Rio let out a shuddering sigh, her tongue sweeping over her lips as if she refused to let a single drop go to waste. Agatha, still draped over you, exhaled deeply, her grip on your hips finally loosening as the last tremors of pleasure faded into a slow, throbbing aftershock. The heat that had consumed all three of you had finally begun to ebb, leaving behind nothing but the weight of exhaustion and the sticky, intoxicating remnants of what had transpired.

The only sounds that remained were the slow, laboured breaths of the three tangled bodies lying amidst the wreckage of their lust. The fire that had burnt so violently through Agatha and Rio had finally dimmed, leaving behind the languid, syrupy pleasure of satisfaction.

Agatha, ever the controlled one, had collapsed first. She lay half-draped over you, her bare skin fever-warm, her breath ghosting over your throat as she pressed against you with a weight that was possessive, grounding. Even in her exhaustion, her arms caged you in, a silent claim, as if making sure you wouldn’t slip away.

She exhaled a slow, satisfied breath, but the moment was short-lived.

“You,” she rasped, tilting her head just enough to glare at Rio through heavy-lidded eyes, “are a menace.”

Rio, sprawled beside you, utterly wrecked but still smug as sin, let out a breathless chuckle. “C’mon, Ags,” she purred, voice raw from use, her tail flicking lazily against your leg. “You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself.”

Agatha huffed, pressing her face into the crook of your neck. “That is not the point.”

You, still trembling, mind fogged from overwhelming pleasure, groaned softly. “I am never leaving a love potion unattended again.”

Rio, ever the troublemaker, grinned. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, propping herself up on one elbow to trace lazy fingers down your sweat-slicked skin. “I don’t know... You took both of us so well. Maybe we should make this a regular thing.”

You managed a weak glare, but it lacked any real venom. “Absolutely not.”

But Agatha and Rio exchanged a glance above you, something conspiratorial in the flick of their golden eyes, the curl of their lips.

Oh, they were definitely going to make sure this happened again.

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yeah that's right, I made their horns sensitive (I came very close to having Rio be able to cum just from Reader holding on to them but I added thigh grinding because it's hot :P)

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taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6stolenangel9 @jujuu23 @juls-stark

[sgm616]

[sgm616]

Boyfriend

Wanda Maximoff x GN!Reader (honestly I kept it as gender neutral as possible but I identify as female most of the time. Gender is weird sorry?)

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, GN!Reader, 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

[sgm616]

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

18+ MINORS DNI

a/n: again, a request :)

summary: delivery driver!nat, artist!reader (not part of the request, but i decided to add it anyway), g!p nat

warnings: brief smut (handjob), implied sex, forgetting to eat (not sure if this needs to be a warning but i’m adding it anyway), mildly creepy behavior but only if you squint

word count: 7k

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

Hands splattered with yellow paint. A white overall. Messy hair and the smell of turpentine mixing with some expensive perfume.

Mundane things, but she won't be able to get them out of her head.

Natasha never knows what kind of people she's going to run into while doing late-night deliveries and, frankly, she usually doesn't care. All she wants is the money and maybe a solid tip — that's it. She does it for the extra cash, not because she's desperate for even more social interactions.

She's been doing this for a while now. Being a car mechanic at a small shop, her salary is far from sufficient. The $20 an hour don't stretch far, barely manage to fully cover her rent, so she decided to pick up a few extra shifts at night. Bless DoorDash for making those quite flexible as well, otherwise she'd probably be living in the streets now.

Again, she doesn't care who her customers are. She meets all kinds of people like this, and she's seen everything from teenage boys ordering Chick-fil-A for their 2am-gaming sessions to lesser known celebrities who can't be bothered to cook. Alcoholics and single dads, college students and people who just got home from partying. In the end, their faces will all be a blur, anyway.

Your name doesn't stand out when she accepts the delivery. All Natasha notices is that she's never delivered to this address before — a somewhat remote area, up on a hill, no neighbors and nothing to do. She doesn't question what kind of person would live in a place like that, even though she maybe should. What she also should do (but doesn't) is worry about driving up there by herself. It's the middle of the night, nobody else lives up there, and the cabin looks as run-down as it does abandoned.

When the motorcycle's headlights die down, so does the last source of light she has. All the house's windows are closed and dark. Judging by the looks of it, she's delivering food to ghosts.

Natasha swings her leg off the motorcycle and grabs the paper bag from the little top-box. She notices the residual grease on her hands a second too late, but decides it isn't important. The paper bag is full of stains either way.

Once she steps on the porch, a tiny light turns on. It flickers pathetically, barely holding on at this point, but provides enough light for Natasha to see your face when you open the door.

Doe eyes and paint on your cheeks, hair pulled back carelessly. Hands that look like they have enough color on them to make even the grayest days a little more colorful. Suddenly, she regrets not taking a closer look at your name. She would've remembered.

"DoorDash", she says, holding out the paper bag.

"Right!", you say, face lighting up and eyes turning more lively. Natasha feels her thoughts falter. "Totally forgot. Lemme just-"

You turn and, just like that, disappear in the darkness of the house. Natasha pauses, still holding onto your order, before snapping out of it. She glances into the hallway and tries to locate a single source of light, but finds nothing.

That is, until you seem to appear out of thin air again. She flinches slightly.

"Thanks", you say, wiping your hands on a rag. "Had trouble finding your way up here? I know one guy who got lost in the forest. Somehow managed to take the wrong exit. Never saw that pizza."

"No, no issues", she mumbles, handing you the food and stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "It's dark in there."

"Oh, yeah." You nod and grab her hand. She stares at you, stunned, and then you smear the rag on the back of her hand. The streak of paint that's left behind glows faintly. "Glow-in-the-dark paint!"

"Seriously?"

"Looks great, doesn't it? I wanted to paint my bathroom with that, but decided against it."

Natasha hums, looking at the paint again. Her eyes meet yours. You give her an expectant look, as if you're waiting for something she can't place. All she's doing is deliver your food, after all. But you keep staring, so she shakes her head.

Enough. She has at least half a dozen more deliveries to get through before she can call it a night.

"Okay", she says, slowly, and steps back. "Well, uhm, enjoy your food."

You nod, already tearing open the bag of fast food and grabbing a fry. "Don't get lost on your way back."

She glances at you, seeming a little distracted. Then she nods and waves absently, already on her way to her motorcycle. The door closes behind her, a soft thud that cuts through the quiet of the night, and she tracks the vehicle where she left it.

It's an old, beat-up thing, but it's reliable. It gets her where she needs to be, it allows her to earn some extra money. She's thankful for her Harley, she really is. But in that moment, when she's hopping on her old Sportster and grabbing the handlebars, she wishes it wasn't the reason she's able to leave again.

. . .

Can doing what you love make you starve?

Maybe. Possibly. Actually? Pretty damn likely. That's your conclusion after working on a few new projects made you forget about eating for almost an entire day.

Aside from a bowl of Cheerios in the morning, topped with a bunch of sugar, you haven't eaten anything all day. Instead, you've been mixing colors and washing paintbrushes and filling your sketchbook. Doodles on walls and paper scraps on the floor, paint in your hair and a pencil between your teeth. One foot resting on the edge of your seat, you tug at the straps of your overall. The color on your fingernails isn't nail polish — it's paint.

You lean forward and inspect the little sketch again. At this point, you're not even sure what this is going to be. Another scrap? A comic strip? No way to know until you're at least halfway there. Maybe you won't know even then.

Music is making the floors vibrate. In front of you are a couple of cups. Some contain tea, others water you've been cleaning your paintbrushes with. You glance at them and resist the urge to take another leap of faith. You've had one too many sips of murky, paint-infused regret.

You turn toward the sketch again, but your stomach rumbling distracts you from the thick lines of charcoal and graphite. You sigh and shift, trying to ignore it and get back into that creative, pulsating headspace again, but it's no use. Your body is hungry.

As usual, you're not in the mood to cook. You're working, and you're scared of getting into another creative block, so you open the DoorDash app and order one of your favorites.

When Natasha looks at her phone, it's not just your name that stands out. It's the address. It brings back images of vines on the sides and tangling around porch railings, winding dirt paths, paint on the back of her hand and a heart that won't stop thrumming.

There's been a lot of this over the past few weeks. At first, it was just a coincidence — due to you ordering food at the most ungodly hours, not many drivers are available. Natasha is one of the few who are desperate enough to work past midnight. Just bad timing, in the end. Or good, depending on how you look at it.

Then, it started to feel like more. She's not sure why, or how, but it did.

It was the same for you. After a few nights of being too distracted and sleep-deprived to notice anything, you finally caught onto the fact that, hey, you'd been getting the same driver over and over again. And hey, you like that driver, and it's not just some case of classical conditioning due to the yummy food, but actually more than just that.

Natasha noticed as well. And now, seeing your name and address on the screen, your order up for grabs, she taps on 'accept delivery'.

The route to your house is familiar by now. The lack of light doesn't disrupt her ability to find her way to your porch anymore. The paper bag in her hands has ceased to merely be a way to earn more money.

You open the door and, as basically always, give her that slightly absent smile you tend to sport. Eyes just a little distant, like you're constantly chasing some cloud of thought in your head, and hands and cheeks smudged with some kind of art medium — charcoal, paint, ink. Natasha can't help but stare, her own forearms oil-smudged but concealed by her jacket.

"Hey", she eventually says, holding out the paper bag. "Your food."

"You were quick this time", you say, grabbing the bag and putting it aside. "No traffic? Or were you just that eager to get here?"

"A bit of both", she says. She's leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "You do tip quite generously."

You hum, eyes subtly tracing along her arms. They're hidden by her leather jacket, but you can tell she gets some sort of physical exercise. Workouts or something. Maybe manual labor. Whatever it is — it's working.

"Driving into the middle of bumfuck nowhere should have its perks."

"Oh, I can think of a few."

You shoot her a quick smile. "Hm", you say, briefly glancing into the hallway. Natasha follows your gaze and spots a half-finished painting. She decides not to comment on it, but the colors distract her for a moment. "So...any more deliveries tonight?"

"Huh? Oh, yes." Natasha nods, spinning her keys around her pointer finger. "Still got to get through a couple."

Tilting your head, you let your eyes linger. She tilts her head right back at you, but much more subtly. The air between you heats up, despite the chilly October air seeping into the hallway. Sparks fly and bodies subconsciously move closer. Just a tiny, harmless step. Nothing to worry about.

"Pity. I was going to offer you a fry", you say, peeling some dried paint off your thumb. "But I can't keep you from your adoring customers, can I?"

"Probably not", Natasha agrees, pushing off the doorframe and taking a step back again. It's getting late, and she needs to get her ass back on her motorcycle. Flirting with a customer probably isn't the smartest move, either. "Though 'adoring' isn't exactly a word I'd use for them."

"Why not?", you say, watching her walk back to her motorcycle. A black, rugged thing that makes perfect sense for her. "You're always on time."

"Maybe that's only your experience", she counters. "Like you said — eager to get here."

You lift your eyebrows. Natasha sits on the old Harley and lets the engine roar, a sound that cuts through the quiet night sharply. You can barely see her, that's how dark it is outside. But then the motorcycle's headlights come on and you feel your heartbeat quicken.

"Drive safe", you call out once you've pulled yourself together.

"Always do", she calls back.

As she drives off, you can't help but wonder whether it's still just a coincidence at this point.

. . .

There's a thin line between being romantic and being a creep.

You may or may not have been toeing that very line.

Ever since noticing Natasha works the night shifts, you started ordering food later and later. It went from 11pm to midnight, then to half past midnight. 1am followed, then quarter past.

Why? To allow her to linger.

What you don't know is that Natasha's been doing the same. Maybe even worse. She scans the orders, looking for yours. She doesn't even think about it anymore — it's just instinct.

With each delivery, she stays longer. Stalls. She lingers in the doorway, her voice hushed and raspy, silently trying to figure out what colors you used based on the stains on your hands and face.

And with each delivery, you become more used to seeing her. It turns into a routine, something normal. Like waking up to the movie posters taped to your bedroom ceiling and listening to the owls at night, you start to expect it. That shows a few weeks later, when Natasha pops up to deliver your birria tacos.

"Where were you yesterday?", you ask, sleepy and groggy, and grab the greasy paper bag. She lifts her eyebrows.

"You didn't order anything yesterday."

You pause and look up, blinking slowly. It's nearly 2am, and you really need to sleep. But you've been up, waiting to order something and have Natasha deliver it.

"You sure?"

She smiles faintly. "Didn't see your name anywhere. I'm pretty sure, yes."

"Oh." Your face falls and you scratch your cheek. The dried watercolor on it is irritating your skin. "I think I forgot about dinner, then."

"That's concerning."

You wave your hand dismissively. "Happens all the time", you say. "Maybe I need someone to remind me."

Natasha stops in her tracks when you give her an expectant look. There's no way you're serious, right?

But you are. You grab your phone and hand it to her. She looks at the screen, smudged and cracked, before glancing at you again.

"You deliver my food all the time, anyway", you argue, ignoring her soft sigh. "Why not cut out the middleman? Much more practical."

"And the reminding you-thing?", she asks, already typing in her number.

"That was a joke."

"It didn't sound like one. Here." She hands you your phone back and crosses her arms. You tuck the device into the pocket of your overall. "For emergencies, right?"

"Of course", you say, smiling. The exhaustion seems to have disappeared from your face.

It's a lie, and you both know it, but Natasha can't find it in herself to care.

. . .

"Seriously?"

"I ran out of charcoal."

"I had to drive all the way across town", she points out. "Plus, my number was supposed to be for emergencies only."

You lift your chin, silently challenging her. She doesn't seem too impressed, though, but the look in her eyes tells you she doesn't mind this as much as she pretends to.

"Food emergencies", she adds. "Not art emergencies."

"You still went and brought it."

Natasha only partially succeeds at biting back a half-frustrated, half-fond noise, and shoves the plastic bag into your arms.

The words do it yourself next time are on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn't utter them. God forbid she has to quit stopping by your house.

You peek into the bag and hum approvingly. Natasha watches you, first unmoving, then reaches out to touch the blue paint on your cheek. She swipes her thumb across it and smudges it further.

You look up, staring. She shrugs.

"Missed a spot."

"Very considerate", you say, lifting your hand to let your fingertips ghost across your cheek. Red and blue create purple.

Natasha shifts, but doesn't step away. Her eyes trace your face. You want her to stay, and she doesn't want to leave.

"No more bullshit", she adds. "Otherwise, I'll start expecting much bigger tips."

"You drive a hard bargain", you reply, cocking your head. "Can't promise anything, though."

She sighs, but the tiny smile betrays her. She can think of worse things than getting more excuses to see you.

"You're spoiled", she states. "How come you're always up this late, anyway? It's, like, 2am."

You shrug, turning on the spot and sauntering into the living room. Natasha, to your frustration, stays glued to her spot in the hallway.

"Can't sleep", you say, crouching in front of the large sheet of paper and tearing open the new charcoal. "Working on something."

She hums, trying to catch a glimpse of you and what you're doing. She can see the corner of a paper, covered in a bunch of comic strips. Then, you crawl forward on your knees and your head comes into view.

"I'm surprised I see no coffins in here."

"Huh?"

"You know. Always up at night, afraid of the sun."

You lift your head, momentarily puzzled — you're spacing out already, and you're sleep deprived, and this late, nothing seems to make sense. Then, the meaning behind her words registers.

"You're asking if I'm a vampire?", you say, sitting on your knees and wiping your face with the back of your hand. Natasha's lips twitch as she sees you smudge the charcoal there further.

"It'd make sense", she replies. "Now you're refusing to answer, too. Guess there must be something to it."

"Well", you say, wiping your hands on your overall, "let me bite you and find out."

Natasha malfunctions for a solid three seconds. Once she's gotten her bearings, she rolls her eyes and knocks on the wooden door. You look up from your project and tilt your head.

"Deliveries?"

"Yeah", she says. "Two more, then I'm done for tonight."

You nod, disappointed but not ready to argue. You get up and pad back into the hallway. You're not even sure why — she can find her way back outside by herself, obviously.

Natasha keeps her eyes on you. Her hands are in the pockets of her jeans, red strands of hair framing her face. She sees the charcoal on your bottom lip and wonders what kissing you would taste like.

"I'll text you", you say, rubbing your lip to get rid of the charcoal.

Emergencies only, she wants to say. She decides against it.

She steps back, adjusting her jacket. She should leave. She needs to leave. Somehow, she can't bring herself to. She just stands there, watching as you shift your weight from one foot to the other, the light from inside catching on the paint smudges along your collarbone.

"See you", she says, voice lower.

"Yeah", you mumble, eyes on her.

She finally forces herself to turn around and step outside. The cold night air cuts through her jacket, but she barely registers it. She swings one leg over the motorcycle and puts on her helmet, then waits.

You're still in the door, the golden light spilling out from inside framing your silhouette.

Natasha shakes her head and kicks the bike to life.

The roar of the engine fades into the night, and you close the door.

. . .

Having your motorcycle break down in the rain is less than ideal.

Natasha swings her leg off the bike, frustration etched into her features, and crouches down beside it. She filled up on gas right before leaving, so that can't be the issue. She checks the cables and wiring, inspects the spark plugs, takes a look at the battery. Once she's done that, she curses and kicks the tire.

The battery's dead. She's screwed.

Running her hand through her wet hair — of course she had to forget her helmet today —, she looks at your house in the distance. It's almost two more miles, and it's pouring rain, but she's got your In-N-Out order in the top-box and, truthfully, she‘s itching to see you.

She tries starting the bike one more time, even if it's hopeless. The battery's dead, which means the motorcycle isn't getting anywhere. Accepting her fate, she grabs the handlebars and starts pushing.

Wet hands slip on metal, rain drips down her face. Her jacket is soaked, as is her hoodie. Her boot briefly gets stuck in mud. Raindrops feel like dozens of tiny whips against her cheeks.

By the time she's gotten up the hill and to your house, half an hour has passed. She's soaked to the bone, dripping wet, out of breath, her arms hurting — and somehow, she doesn't care about any of that. She grabs the paper bag from the top-box and makes her way to your porch. Cold, reddened knuckles meet old wood.

You open the door and stare at her.

Drenched, out of breath, her once light gray hoodie now the shade of cracked pepper. Water drips from the red strands of hair that are framing her face. Clutching the takeout bag like it's life or death, her green eyes staring right back into yours.

For a moment, neither of you move.

When she lowers her gaze to the floor, a puddle forming on the wooden porch beneath her, you jump forward and cup her face.

Kissing her feels like second nature. Her lips are cold and wet when they press against yours. Her cheeks are cold, and she smells like a mixture of perfume and rain-soaked clothes.

You tug her inside, only pulling away slightly. She's still out of breath, but for a different reason now.

She sneezes, turning her head to try and hide it, but you notice anyway. You help her out of her jacket and steer her to the couch. She sits down and off comes her dripping wet hoodie. Her shirt is soaked as well, so off it goes as well. Fingertips brushing against skin, you notice how cold she is.

"You're insane", you say, returning with a towel. Natasha glances at it and subtly raises her eyebrows when she spots the paint stains on it, but you've already started toweling her hair dry. "You'll get pneumonia!"

"I'll be fine", she says dismissively. "Just a little rain. My bike broke down."

"You could've called", you mutter, rubbing her hair with the towel. "Or texted. I would've called a taxi or something."

Natasha goes silent. She didn't even consider that option. Maybe part of her wanted to prove something. Hopefully, she succeeded. If not, this may have all been for nothing.

You go upstairs to grab some clothes from your room. Natasha stays on the couch, her eyes scanning her surroundings. She expected art supplies, many of them, and she also expected some messiness. But she didn't think it'd be so...comfortable. Lived-in. Warm, despite the chaos.

Paint splatters on wooden floorboards and half-finished paintings leaning against the walls. Charcoal sketches and pastel doodles, postcards on the walls. Mismatched furniture — most of it thrifted — and glass paint on the massive window. A teddy, with a knitted dress on it.

She smells tea and turpentine, with a hint of something floral woven into the unique smell. A glance at the dining table tells her it's coming from a vase full of lilies.

You return, bare feet padding against stair steps, and walk back to Natasha's side. You hold out a sweater for her to put on, nodding in encouragement, but she grabs your waist and pulls you into her lap instead.

It's unexpected, but not unwelcome. She tugs the sweater out of your hand and tosses it aside, then kisses you again.

Fingerprints of paint stain her face.

. . .

You don't stop ordering things. In fact, you only start to order more.

You know you're being an annoying little shit. It's clear as day, and your chats prove it.

You: bring me more

washi tape pls? — 1.04am

Natasha: you're fucking

kidding — 1.04am

You: the clear one with

the stars :) — 1.05am

Natasha: this isn't a

convenience store. — 1.05am

You: it is if you bring

me what i want — 1.06am

And, half an hour later, she was in front of your door. There was a striped bag in her hands.

Once she saw your smile, she'd forgotten all about her complaints.

"This is the last time", she said, letting you lead her into the house. You tilted your head up to kiss her jaw. "Don't even try to butter me up. No more running errands for you."

You know she doesn't mind, though. One night, as you're kneeling on the floor and gluing magazine cutouts to a painting, someone knocks. You get up and open the door and, oh surprise, it's Natasha.

The first thing you notice is that she looks exhausted. Circles under her eyes, her face even paler than usual. The poor excuse of a paper bag she's clutching is crumpled and grease-stained.

"You order anything?", she asks.

Of course not. You never order on Tuesdays. Not anymore, at least — it's the only night Natasha has off.

You tilt your head in silent response. Her jaw clenches, she shifts on her feet and drums her fingers against her thigh, and you finally decide to stop torturing her.

"Come in", you say, grabbing her hand.

"Figured you'd want something", she mumbles, padding into the living room.

"Uh-huh. Here, sit down."

She sinks onto the couch's cushions, sighing quietly. You straddle her lap and take your sweet time with her for a moment. Just look at her, run your fingers through her hair, gently push the jacket off her shoulders.

Her eyes meet yours. You smile softly and grasp her chin between your fingers.

"You must really like me."

She bites the insides of her cheeks, eyes staring up at you. No response — she doesn't know what to say, because denying the truth would be as uncomfortable as standing by it.

You trail your fingers along her jaw, then slide them up into her hair. You lean in close, so close you can taste her breath and feel her lips brush against yours, but not close enough to kiss her. Finally, Natasha grips your thighs in unspoken frustration.

You laugh quietly and lean in, deciding to go easy on her. You press a kiss to the corner of her mouth and guide her to lay down.

"Cat got your tongue?", you murmur, placing lingering kisses on her jaw.

"Just tired."

"And you decided to show up here."

"Nothing else makes sense this late."

The admission makes you pause, if ever so briefly. You kiss her, hands cupping her face, and feel her hands slip under your shirt.

Fingertips inch higher up and tug at your bra. The clasp comes undone, making the pressure around your chest disappear.

It's slow. Clothes come off, lips meet time after time. Straddling one of her thighs, you litter kisses and little bites on her neck.

"You should sleep", you whisper against her skin. Your fingers are fumbling with the zipper of her jeans.

"I will", she rasps, eyes closed. "After."

"You seem tired", you point out. You tug the waistband of her jeans lower and expose Calvin Klein boxers. An involuntary noise leaves you at the sight.

Natasha puts her hand on the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. Her other hand grips yours, slowly guiding it into her boxers.

You feel the heavy weight of her length in your hand and nearly moan. A few slow strokes are enough to get her to harden in your palm. You feel every vein, every soft throb, her quickening breathing like music in your ears.

There's something vulnerable about being in this position. Natasha is used to being on top, but with you, she doesn't seem to mind letting you take control.

Her head drops back against the armrest. With her neck exposed to you, your lips linger on her pulse point as you start moving your hand up and down her shaft. The pad of your thumb circles her tip, gathering precum and lubricating her hard-on.

She squirms underneath you, frustrated and restless, a silent request for you to pick up the pace. But you keep your movements slow and steady, drawing out the pleasure and letting it build gradually. Natasha's hips buck into your hand, her hand clasped over her own mouth to stifle moans.

She twitches and throbs hotly in your hand. You kiss her collarbone, your hand applying pressure to her cock. You're drawing her to the edge so gently she feels like she might lose her mind.

Your thumb traces veins and rubs the underside of her length. Another soft whine comes from her mouth. You lift your head to kiss her and swallow the pathetic little sounds she's making. When she comes, her body tenses through the slow, shuddering unraveling. Cum spills on your hand and you pull away.

Dazed, spent, out of breath. Natasha clears her throat, her cheeks flushed.

. . .

You only need to take one look at the bag she's holding to be able to tell.

"You forgot something", you say, paint-smudged hands on her waist as you steer her inside. Much to her dismay, you absently wipe your fingers on her hoodie. She shoots an exasperated look at the blue stains.

"You haven't even opened the bag."

"I can tell. You forgot the snail shells."

Natasha glances at you as she plops onto the couch. You put the bag on the coffee table and rummage through it. You were right — no snail shells. But you do find the requested Oreos and vanilla milk.

"You only eat trash, you know", she says, one arm tucked under her head.

You roll your eyes. "Don't even start with that."

"I mean it. Oreos and sugar-milk aren't exactly the most nutritious dinner."

"Oh, hush", you mumble, swatting at her. Natasha just grins and reaches out, grasping your wrist. "Hey, what-"

She ignores you. With one swift tug, you topple over and she's got you on the couch next to her. You grunt and adjust your position.

"You hush", she retorts, arm wrapping around you and snuggling you closer. "Always complaining. Would it kill you to be grateful for once?"

You huff, smiling. Natasha pinches your side and you let out a gasp.

"Hey!"

"Come on, say it."

"Forget it."

Her fingertips dance over your ribs. You shift and squirm, trying to get away from her grasp, but it's a halfhearted attempt.

"Come on", she repeats. "Say thank you."

Her fingers brush against the underside of your breast. Your laughter turns into a barely contained sound of pleasure.

Natasha laughs and slips her fingertips under the fabric of your bra.

"Say thank you", she whispers, "and maybe I'll be nice."

"So unfair", you retort. "Fine. Thank you."

"Mhm." She hums and kisses your cheek. "Better."

"You know, if you weren't the one delivering me stuff..."

"What?" She scoffs, smiling, and tickles your ribs. She knows better than to get offended by what you said. If it weren't for her delivering your orders, this never would've happened. Neither of you really know what 'this' is, but you both know you like it.

You squirm in her arms and bat at her hand. "You heard me!"

"Is that all I am to you?", she mocks, lightly cupping your breast. "I'm wounded. Truly."

"No", you say, not thinking. "You don't know how much you mean to me, I think."

Natasha goes quiet for a long moment. She feels your heartbeat speed up, rapid like a prey's, when you realize what you just said. But then she shifts and sits up, and she guides you to roll over, and you feel her lips on yours.

She never stays the night. She doesn't let herself get too close to anyone. She's seen you naked, touched every inch of your body with her tongue, yet staying the night always felt like it'd be too much.

This time, she stays. Fully clothed and keeping her space, she lays down. She makes sure not to breathe in the scent of your bedsheets. At some point that night, though, she wakes up. She reaches for you blindly, fingers feeling the air until they graze your arm.

She hesitates. Something has shifted, and she can feel it deep in her bones.

Finally, she pulls you closer. Tucks you against her chest, brushes her fingers along your spine.

. . .

Before she's even managed to open her eyes, you're up and about.

Digging through your closet, brushing your hair, making tea and toast and opening windows. Wind makes the curtains billow out and her hair flutter, so she rolls over and buries her face in your pillow. The sun isn't even up yet.

"Why are you up at this ungodly hour?"

"Watch the sunrise", you say, slipping into a tank top. "Paint a little."

"You're insane."

"Up, up", you say. You throw aside the blanket she's covered with and pat her butt. She doesn't move an inch. "Come on! I need your help with something."

That manages to briefly get her attention, but it doesn't last long. She slumps back into the sheets, her face hidden.

"Forget it", she murmurs.

"Nat", you drawl. "Please. It'll be worth it."

"Define 'worth it'."

You tug at her boxers, just enough to expose a sliver of her butt. She swats at your hand. It's obvious she's tired, so you decide to let it go for a while. As soon as she's out of bed, though, you're dragging her out of the house and toward a shed to the side.

You feel grass under your feet, tickling your ankles. Natasha trails after you, hand in yours, her red hair in a braid. The top she's wearing is one of yours, and it's covered in charcoal and watercolor stains. She's not complaining anymore — too distracting is the sight of you in nothing but an oversized shirt and her boxers.

But then, you open the shed. You reveal a red Fiat.

First, she just stares. The car looks relatively new. Maybe not brand new, no, but no older than about five years. Natasha's a car mechanic, so she can figure that out pretty easily.

"You have a car."

You nod and lead her into the shed. "Yeah. This is DaVinci."

She shoots you a brief, disbelieving look, then stares at the vehicle again. "You've had a car. This whole time."

"Mhm."

"...I've been driving around in the crack of dawn for nothing."

You wave your hand and lean against the wall, ankles crossing. "Not for nothing. It, I dunno...won't start. It cranks, but doesn't really do anything."

Natasha rolls her eyes. She lifts the hood and secures it with the rod, then takes a look at the engine bay. You stay where you are, subtly checking her out. A black tank top and cargos, her braid resting over her shoulder. Hands that are slowly but surely getting covered in grease.

You'd jump her bones, but you already made her roll out of bed for this, so she probably wouldn't appreciate you trying to make a move on her right now.

"Didn't take it to a shop?"

"Wasn't in the mood."

You earn an exasperated look for that. You shrug, and Natasha turns toward the car again. You have no idea what she's doing, truthfully, but that's fine. The view's nice.

"Coolant's good", she says, checking it for leaks. "Battery terminals are a little corroded."

"No idea what that means."

"Of course", she mutters. She frowns and tugs at a belt-like thing. Loose, which isn't a great sign. She unscrews the fuel filter and a nasty liquid drips out. "Jesus. When's the last time you changed this?"

"Change what?"

Natasha purses her lips and puts the filter aside. "I see. Neglect."

"You're being dramatic."

"You should've taken this thing to the shop ages ago", she complains, voice muffled as she leans deeper into the car. Tank top riding up slightly, you catch a glimpse of her toned stomach. Her biceps flex and you almost miss her next question. "Got a toolbox?"

You tilt your head and pretend to have no idea what she's talking about just to mess with her a little. She stares back at you, eyebrows raised. Once she leans onto the car, one hand on the side of the hood and the other covering her forehead, you saunter to the shelves in the back of the shed.

"Oh, thank god", she mutters. "You got a replacement filter?"

"Aw, honey. You believe in me too much, I think."

Another shake of her head. She steps out of the shed, walks to her bike, grabs something, and then returns. You eye the cylinder-like thing with the two tubes sticking out of it.

"That it?"

Natasha doesn't even respond. You do see her lips twitch, though.

She grabs the creeper you for some reason have and lays down on it. Again, abs. Muscles, covered in small grease stains, flex. You stare at them unabashedly.

She slides under the car and unhooks the filter. You crouch down to get a better view of her.

"Now what?"

"Changing the filter", she replies. Fuel dribbles down her forearms and she wipes it off with a rag. "You can thank me later, by the way."

"Will totally do."

She replaces the filter, tightens the clamp, then gives the undercarriage an encouraging tap before rolling back out. You're sitting on the floor cross-legged, shooting her a teasing smile when she reappears.

"What?", she asks, wiping the fuel off her arms.

"You're so good with your hands."

Natasha rolls her eyes, but kisses your cheek anyway. She changes the serpentine belt as well, then closes the hood and pats it. She nods at the car.

"Go on", she says. "Give her a try."

"'Her'?", you say, sitting down behind the steering wheel.

"Cars are always female."

"You learn something new every day." You put the key in the ignition and turn it.

The car seems to hesitate for a moment. It rumbles, cranks, and you're already about to give up — but then it comes to life, smoother than ever before, and you clap your hands.

Before she can register what's happening, you're out of the car again. You throw your arms around her and jump into her embrace, squeezing a little too hard. You hear a soft grunt from her.

"Hey", she laughs, "I'm covered in grease."

"Don't care." You pull away just enough to reach her lips. They're plush and warm against yours. "You're a genius!"

"I do what I can", she mumbles, a little too rosy cheeked and happy, and kisses you again. Walks you backwards until you're sitting on the hood of the car, slowly leaning forward so your back is flush with the cold, hard material. "What now? No more deliveries? I'm officially useless?"

"No", you whisper, tugging her closer by her pants' belt loops. "I'll find a way to keep you entertained."

Metal creaks beneath you. Sunlight seeps into the space. The shed's doors are still open. The air smells like grass, fuel and Natasha's cologne.

Her hands palm your sides, push the shirt you're wearing a little higher. Fingertips trail over smooth, soft skin. Her nose nuzzles your jaw, then you feel wet, hot kisses along your neck.

You wrap your legs around her waist.

"Think DaVinci can handle this?", she murmurs, one hand sliding around to the small of your back.

You pretend to think about it — and then pull her back in.

. . .

You're both on the rug in the living room, a paint-stained blanket draped over her lower half. She's on her stomach, arms crossed underneath her head and her eyes staring at nothing in particular. You're straddling her butt, a paintbrush in your hand.

You've had all kinds of canvases so far. Linen, cotton, in rolls or on panels. Small ones and bigger ones, raw or primed. Yet, none of them come close to the one you're sitting on right now.

Neither of you really talked about this. After sleeping together on the floor, though, surrounded by art supplies and sketches, Natasha’d rolled onto her stomach. You’d seen the smudges of paint on her shoulder. You’d brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck.

"You ticklish?", you’d whispered.

She'd shaken her head 'no'.

It may have been a lie. You can see her twitch ever so slightly whenever the bristles brush against the more sensitive areas of her skin. You put your hand on her shoulder and push her back down when she tries to shift.

"Not yet", you insist, trying to finish the painting of the two little bats.

"Whatever", she mutters. You smile and add tiny teeth to the creatures' mouths.

"It's cute."

"I look ridiculous."

"What?" You huff, getting off her and scooting away on your knees. You grab a different color and return. "Bullshit. You look adorable. Such a shame I'm not a tattoo artist."

She turns her head enough to look at you. Red strands fall in front of her eyes and you reach out to tuck them behind her ear. Your fingertips, stained in black and red, leave specks of paint behind.

"I truly hope you aren't being serious."

"Maybe, maybe not." You grin and wave your hand at her. "Come on, put your head back down. I'm not done with you."

"Oh, for fuck's sake", she mutters, but does as told.

Index finger dipped into black paint, you write the word mine on her lower back.

Natasha tenses, but only briefly. Her fingers curl into the rug underneath her. She exhales, her face buried against her arms again. She's enjoying this a little too much. Not just the feeling of your weight on her body, of cold paint on skin, but everything else as well.

It's been months. You still haven't given up your little routine of ordering stuff and then making her stay the night.

"I felt that", she mumbles, voice muffled.

"What?", you ask innocently. You decide to add a few hearts.

"What you wrote." She hesitates. "You mean it?"

You add another heart. You smile at your own creation, then peek at her face. You can't see her, so you tickle the back of her neck. All it leads to is a small huff, though.

"Is it important?"

"It's not not important."

"So it is."

"Y/N."

"I mean it."

Finally, she looks up. Her eyes search your face.

You haven't defined your relationship. You're staking your claim on her, anyway.

"I mean it", you repeat, seeing the incredulous look on her face. "I wouldn't have spent hundreds of dollars on deliveries if it didn't mean getting to see you."

"Yeah", she murmurs.

"I don't need the deliveries." You let out a slow breath. "I just need you."

The tips of her ears burn red. She shifts, swallows, like she wants to say something but doesn't know how. You nudge her side with your knee.

"Too much, too soon?"

"No." She laughs, dropping her face back onto her arms. "Keep going."

[sgm616]

[sgm616]

[sgm616]

Y/N: I miss Wanda.

Natasha: Y/N-

Y/N: She use to call me that.

Natasha: Gee I fucking wonder why.

[sgm616]

Let me mourn

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: grief, miscarriage, emotional and physical abuse, alcohol use, angst, comfort

Your Wanda was gone. Not physically—she was still there, still breathing, still existing beside you. But the woman you loved, the woman whose laughter used to fill every corner of your home, whose emerald-green eyes once held the entire universe when they looked at you—she was gone. And in her place was someone else, someone cold, distant, haunted. Someone whose eyes glowed an unrelenting red, as if she had forgotten how to be human.

You missed her. You missed her so much it hurt. You missed the softness of her gaze, the warmth of her hands in yours, the way she used to whisper your name like it was something sacred. Now, she barely spoke to you. And when she did, her words cut deep, like jagged glass against your skin. But you stayed. Even when her love had turned into something unrecognizable, you stayed—because you still loved her. Because she was grieving. Because you understood.

She was mourning her children. Your children. The twins you had spent months waiting for, their tiny clothes already folded neatly in the nursery, their names whispered late at night as Wanda traced patterns over your swollen belly. They had been real. They had been here. And then, just as suddenly, they weren’t. One moment, you had felt them, alive and safe inside you—and the next, there was only emptiness.

That night, she pushed you away. She barely looked at you, barely acknowledged your pain. You spent the night curled up on the couch, staring at the ceiling, replaying every second of that horrible day in your mind. Maybe it was your fault. Maybe you should have been more careful. Maybe if you had done something—anything—differently, they would still be here.

By morning, you had made your decision: you didn’t deserve to grieve. You didn’t deserve to cry over them because it was your fault.

So you swallowed your pain. You did what you had to do. You took care of Wanda, even when she didn’t want you to. Even when she lashed out, when she spat cruel words at you, when she hit you in moments of uncontrollable rage. You never fought back. You never even raised your voice. Because what was the point? She was hurting. And you? You were nothing. Just a ghost in the home you had built together.

At some point, you stopped trying to reach her. You just existed in the background, cooking meals she barely touched, cleaning up the house that felt less like a home every day. At night, you drank yourself into a haze, sitting alone in the dark with a bottle of vodka, hoping it would fill the void in your stomach where your babies should have been.

But nothing helped. Nothing could make the ache go away.

And then, one night, it finally became too much.

The bottle slipped from your fingers, shattering across the floor, but you barely heard it over the roar in your ears. Your chest felt like it was caving in, your vision blurred with hot, angry tears. Before you could stop yourself, you were on your feet, throwing anything within reach. A vase hit the wall and exploded into shards. Books scattered across the floor. The coffee table overturned with a loud crash. And then you were on your knees, gasping for air, fingers clutching at your chest as if you could reach inside and pull out the grief that was suffocating you.

For the first time since that horrible day, you let yourself feel it.

You mourned.

You sobbed so violently it hurt, screamed so loudly your throat burned. Because they were your babies too. And you had the right to grieve them.

A creak from the staircase barely registered through the haze of your grief. You were too lost in it, too consumed by the unbearable weight in your chest to notice Wanda standing at the edge of the room, frozen in place. Her breath hitched as she took in the wreckage before her—shattered glass, overturned furniture, books scattered across the floor. But none of it compared to the sight of you.

You, on your knees, shoulders shaking with violent sobs, hands gripping at your chest like you were trying to hold yourself together. You, crumbling under the weight of everything she had ignored.

Her stomach twisted with guilt.

She had been cruel. So unbelievably cruel.

She had been drowning so deeply in her own grief that she hadn’t even noticed she had left you to drown alone.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. How could she not have seen it? How could she have let it get this far?

You had lost them too.

You had carried them. You had felt them grow inside you, had protected them, nurtured them. And then they were ripped away from you. And what had she done? Had she held you through the pain? Had she reminded you that you weren’t alone? Had she grieved with you the way she should have?

No.

She had turned away from you. She had let the darkness take her, let it wrap around her heart and harden it until she could no longer see anything beyond her own agony. She had hurt you, pushed you away, when all you had done was love her, care for her, stay even when she had given you every reason to leave.

And now, seeing you like this, completely and utterly broken, she realized how deeply she had failed you.

Her voice trembled as she finally spoke.

“Detka…”

Your body jolted at the sound of her voice, your breath hitching as you turned to look at her. Your eyes were red and swollen, cheeks damp with endless tears, lips trembling from the force of your sobs. Wanda felt something inside her shatter.

She had done this.

And God, she hated herself for it.

She took slow, tentative steps forward, like she was afraid you might run if she got too close. But you didn’t move. You just stared at her, like you weren’t sure if she was really there or if you were imagining it.

She sank to her knees in front of you, hesitating for a moment before reaching out—before placing a gentle, trembling hand over yours. You stiffened, and the reaction alone was enough to drive a knife straight into her heart.

She had never wanted to become someone you flinched away from.

“Please,” her voice broke, and suddenly, all the walls she had built came crumbling down. “Please, look at me.”

You did. And the moment your tired, grief-stricken eyes met hers, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

She had spent so long running from the pain, so long trying to pretend that if she shut you out, if she ignored it, if she let herself be angry instead of heartbroken, then maybe—maybe—she wouldn’t have to face what had truly happened.

But now, looking at you, Wanda had no choice but to face it.

She had lost her babies.

And she had almost lost you, too.

Her hands cupped your face so delicately, like she thought you might break apart at the slightest touch.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, voice raw with guilt. “I’m so—so sorry.”

You closed your eyes at her words, and a new wave of tears spilled down your cheeks. She wiped them away, her thumbs stroking your skin in slow, reverent movements.

“I should have been there,” she admitted, her voice barely above a breath. “I should have held you. I should have told you that you weren’t alone. But I—” She choked on a sob, her forehead pressing against yours. “I was so lost in my own grief that I— I forgot you were hurting too. And that’s—” Her voice broke. “That’s unforgivable.”

You shook your head, hands coming up to grasp at her wrists, to hold on to her.

“You were hurting,” you murmured, your voice weak, exhausted.

“So were you,” she whispered. “And I left you to suffer alone. I made you think you didn’t have the right to grieve when you—you carried them. You felt them. You lost them in a way I never could have. And I—” A sharp breath. “I made you feel like that didn’t matter.”

You bit your lip, your whole body trembling. “I thought—” Your voice cracked. “I thought it was my fault. I thought I should’ve done something different, should’ve been more careful. I thought—”

Wanda’s hands framed your face firmly, desperately.

“No,” she said, her voice strong, unwavering. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you ever think that. This wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault.”

The conviction in her voice made the last piece of your restraint snap.

A broken sob tore from your throat as you collapsed against her, your arms wrapping around her tightly as if you were afraid she might disappear. And Wanda—Wanda held you like she was never letting go.

You cried into her chest, gripping her shirt in trembling fists as you finally let it all out. Every ounce of grief, every unshed tear, every whispered apology you had held inside for far too long. And Wanda let you.

She held you as your body shook, pressed kisses into your hair, whispered soft, broken words into your ear.

“I’m here,” she murmured. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

And she was.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she was really here.

No more anger. No more distance. No more pretending.

Just the two of you, holding each other together as the weight of your loss finally settled between you.

After a while, when the sobs had quieted, when exhaustion had started to pull at your body, Wanda tilted your chin up gently. Her eyes were filled with so much love, so much sorrow, so much regret.

“I love you,” she whispered, her lips brushing against your temple. “I never stopped.”

You swallowed thickly, searching her face for any sign that this was temporary—that she might disappear behind that wall of grief again. But all you saw was her.

Your Wanda.

And for the first time in forever, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—you wouldn’t have to grieve alone anymore.

[sgm616]

Wanda: What is one thing nobody knows about you?

Y/N: I get jealous when my phone dies.

Wanda:

Natasha *from across the room*: Y/N we talked about this.

[sgm616]

*writes two paragraphs after months of literally nothing and it took three hours*