#Wlw marvel

[wandascrush]

N.R. Masterlist

I do not give anyone permission to repost, plagiarize, or take credit for my original work. If you see this anywhere please let me know. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated :) Men DNI

Oneshots

Runaway Bride

Series

Let the light in pt. 1 pt. 2 (finished)

Mom!Natasha series

Meet Cute series

Do I wanna know series

[reversedanatomy]

Finding Peace: Chapter 2

Summary: More of an in-between from the last chapter. Reader processing emotions after the breakup and making big decisions.

TW: swearing, some mentions of violence

Denial. This was the first step of recovering from a breakup. The note Wanda had written for you the morning she left was unlike her. When there was a serious topic that needed to be addressed, she always preferred face-to-face conversations, even when she was away for long periods of time on her international trips. Your mind raced like cars on a track, revisiting the same thoughts again and again until you grew weary from worry. You settled on an unlikely, but possible conclusion that maybe she was kidnapped. Yes, you thought, her kidnapper forced her to write this note with the intent play it off like one of her work trips.

You knew this was stupid, but you held onto the idea that she would be coming back. You always left your cellphone ringer on, now, in the slim chance that Wanda would be contacting you. You’d rush to answer your phone at every buzz, ding, or alarm you heard, even when you were out with company.

Your mom started to worry. She knew the situation between you and Wanda had been rocky for some time, and she expressed her relief that you two had parted. She would call you frequently, however, to reassure you and offer for you to come visit and stay with her.

“Maybe what you need is a new change of scenery,” your mom quietly suggested. You held the phone in between your shoulder and ear as you cooked over the stovetop.

“Yeah, but I’ve got a job here that I can’t just leave,” you retorted. You went to check the vegetables you set in the oven.

“It’s a pretty big company you work for. Can’t you ask them to relocate you?” You opened the oven door, feeling the heat burn across your face. You reached to check if your carrots were fork tender, and you shot back as you accidentally bumped your hand on the hot glass baking dish. You bit your tongue to keep yourself quiet, but the phone dropped to the floor.

“Shit, mom, I’m sorry,” you went to pick the phone back up and return it to your ear. “I missed what you said.”

“Don’t swear at me, Y/N,” your mother was direct.

“I’m sorry.”

“What I was saying was that you should ask to be relocated. Your lease is ending soon, and I know rent is increasing where you’re at. Without Wanda there, you’re going to need some help staying financially secure in a place like Chicago.” She was right. You didn’t have much of an option once your lease ended. You could either move somewhere cheaper, alone, or move back in with your mom in southern California. Both options stressed you. “I’ve already looked into it. There’s a position opening up to be a direct assistant under management here. It’s a bit less than what you make now, but, with your dad and I making dual income, you can stay here rent-free and bulk up your savings.”

“I’ll think about it.” If you gave her an open-ended answer, she’d pressure you less.

“Alright, hon. Let me know what you decide. I’ll call again tomorrow in the afternoon. Does three work for you?”

“Yeah, that works for me. Talk to you then.” You made quick goodbyes with each other before hanging up the phone and returning to your cooking. You held your hand under the cold water, letting the rush cool the anxiety in your head. You thought for a moment how your life was going to change when you moved out of your apartment, when you moved out of Chicago.

You ate dinner while searching for jobs on your computer. You investigated the job your mother was talking about. It was an assistant-to-the-manager position that offered significantly less pay than the social media manager position you currently held. Sure, you could put all your money into savings, but you sneered at the idea of moving back in with your parents when you were in your mid-twenties.

You continued to browse through the list of jobs your company offered until your eyes laid upon an office manager position that paid the same rate you were making now, but in a small, incomprehensible name of a town in Norway. You always admired the idea of visiting Norway. It reminded you of the mountains you and your family would drive through to go camping in the Pacific Northwest every summer. You also loved the idea of living near the water. Chicago’s waterfront was nice, but the pollution of the city ruined your connection to the water. Maybe this could be the change of scenery that your mother was suggesting.

It was a risky application considering you weren’t a Norwegian citizen, but you had more than enough experience from your current position to secure this job. You put your heart and soul into this application. When you finally submitted it, you leaned back into the kitchen stool and sighed. It creaked under your weight as you tilted your head back. For a moment you studied the stipples decorated across your ceiling. It was unlikely you’d be offered the position, but you felt more confident in leaving Chicago behind when you finished.

-----------------------------------------------

You waited several days. Every morning, afternoon, and night you checked your email both at work and at home, praying for a response from your job application. You hadn’t made your application aware to anybody yet. It wasn’t like you had a lot of people to tell, anyway. Since dating Wanda, you two had fallen into a state of codependency with each other. Wanda had possessive traits, and you were a doormat whenever those traits were expressed in an argument. Regarding your family and your closest friend Darcy, however, you’d need to be prepared to convincingly tell them why you were leaving the country to seek ‘refuge’ somewhere else if offered an interview.

You thought about this from the comfort of your bed. You held your phone clutched against your chest and continued to stare at the ceiling just as you had when you submitted your application. Your mind felt all kinds of queasy and restless. Nauseating. It was the type of nausea that bubbled in your stomach rather than your throat. You were thinking about Wanda. What if she came back when you left the country? What if she came back bruised and bloody after escaping her hypothetical kidnapper, looking for solace with you, but you weren’t there? It felt like torture waiting for that damned email. Waiting and worrying became more of a reason to keep your mind off of Wanda, off of the breakup.

You were so hyper-focused on if a decision had been made that you were neglecting the rest of your notifications. There were several texts from Darcy, one text from your father, and several missed calls and voicemails from your mother. You had turned the ‘Read Receipts’ option off on your phone so you could still peek at the messages without getting an earful from Darcy. She was wondering where you were, if you died, or if someone had by chance stolen you off of the streets. She then sent a copy-paste message that if you didn’t reply to her message you’d have bad luck for 7 years. You couldn’t help but giggle at that.

Right then, you got another message from Darcy. It read: I CAN SEE THAT YOU’RE READING MY MESSAGES, ASSHOLE!!!

Shit.

You rechecked your phone settings. You forgot to turn the ‘Read Receipts’ option off. Or, you had accidentally had turned it on sometime and just forgot about it. Shit, shit, shit, you started fumbling with your phone. Your heart started racing when a notification popped up that Darcy was trying to call you. Your phone buzzed and slipped from your hands, landing on your face. Your nose unfortunately answered the call, and you could hear Darcy’s animated voice booming from the other side.

“I’ve been trying to contact you for almost a week!” She whisper-shouted through gritted teeth. Her voice was breathy. Maybe her heart was twisting and beating just as fast as yours. You picked your phone up off of your face and brought it to your ear. The room started spinning as you tried to muster a response.

“I-I-I’m sorry?” You squinted your eyes and furrowed your eyebrows.

“You’re sorry? I’ve been trying to contact you with no response and you’re sorry?” You could hear Darcy exhale through her nose and scoff. “Look, I get it. Wanda ran away from you, but you need to stop running away from everybody else.” She was right. It hurt to hear, but Darcy was right, and you didn’t know how to respond. The words you were forming from your mouth lost all form and function, and they came out in a twisted scramble. You were playing a piano and pressing all the broken keys. You slid your fingers through your hair and gripped into your scalp.

Darcy just sighed.

“What’s going on?” Darcy lowered her voice until it was soothing and silvery. Her voice instantly settled into your muscles, relaxing you in preparation for the news you were to deliver.

“I…may or may not have applied to a job in Norway,” you closed your eyes and waited for Darcy to berate you about running away again. You heard Darcy exhale from her nose once more.

“Y/N, you’re acting irrationally because Wanda left. Look, you and I both knew this was coming. Fleeing the country isn’t going to get her out of your head. It’s just going to isolate you from the only support you have now.”

“Yeah, but what if I meet some hot MILF out there who turns my life upside down and fixes all of my problems?” You attempted to lighten the mood and forced out a laugh. Nothing.

“This isn’t funny, Y/N,” she emphasized your name to bring your attention back to the topic at hand.

“I know.”

“Then stay. There’s another internship opening up with Dr. Foster and you don’t need to be a college student to get in. You can work with me,” Darcy offered in the same tone your mother did when bringing up the assistant position back home.

“No, Darcy. I really do want this position. I think it could be good for my mental health to get out of the country and be somewhere new.”

“Do you even speak Norwegian?”

“No, but I can learn.”

“God,” there was a pause. “…okay. Wanna run by the bookstore with me tomorrow and see if they have learning material for that?” Darcy was being patient with you regardless of your spontaneous decision to leave the USA. She really cared about you, but you could tell from her voice she was worried, maybe even scared about you leaving. You felt sorrow fill your heart as you heard her voice break while speaking. You nodded to yourself.

“You don’t have to do that, Darce,” you replied.

“I want to.”

“Okay. Can I at least pick you up from your apartment?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then. Noon work?”

“Yeah. See you, Darce. Love you.”

Click.

[myriaeden]

Mystique x Destiny Lockscreens

Like and reblog if you use

Don't repost without permission

[lovespotion9]

yoooo, broken telephone got me fucked up holy shit. fwb + pining is one of my favorite guilty pleasure tropes ngl, and the way you write their character interaction is painfully beautiful, absolutely sublime. i hope everything's good w you & your fam, nd i'd love to read more, (of course no pressure tho).

Broken Telephone II

TW: 18+ | minors, please dni <3 | Angst | Smut | Vaginal Fingering (r! giving) | Strong Language | Degradation Kink | Sadism | Bottom!Carol Danvers | Top!Reader | Severe Overstimulation | Use of Safeword | Oral Sex (r! giving) | FWB Trope | GN!Reader | No pronouns used for reader | Reader is kind of... loopy? | NO happy ending | No aftercare | Use of Y/N |

Read Part I -> HERE

Wordcount: 1.7k

WARNING: I kinda went the crazy route with this one 😊

You awoke to the rhythmic rain pattering against the floor-to-ceiling window beside your bedpost. The familiar sound of snoring that you had grown to take an unusual comfort in sounding soft beside the water droplets hitting the glass. 

Your head swirled with vague memories of the night before, the thought of what an anxious, emotional wreck you had been making your stomach churn. That, along with the soreness that seemed to spread to a new place with your every breath–  fought inccessantly to keep you conscious despite your many efforts to roll over and drift back asleep. 

You decided you’d make your usual french exit, peeling back the duvet you had convinced yourself many others had slept beneath, you quickly slipped from the bed you deemed suspiciously comfortable. 

You took a moment to admire the different coloured bruises and bitemarks littered across your skin, examining the shared scars and scratches spread across Carol’s back next. 

Quietly, you burrowed through the wistful collage of discarded clothing spread untidily across the carpeted floor, hissing at the stubbing of your toe against the bed’s wooden leg. The action does lead to you finding your misplaced underwear, though. They lie a bit beneath the bed beside a lone sock, and as you finally tear your gaze from your task of silently shuffling your panties up your legs, your mouth drops in horror as you meet the smirking Avenger’s gaze. 

“Don’t let me stop you.” She chuckles in a groggy morning voice that makes your insides flutter. 

She smirks as if your scrambling to leave undetected is the funniest thing in the world, eyeing your half-naked form with amusement and lust. 

“Got someplace to be?” Grinning, she peels back the duvet, revealing her own naked body. Instinctively, you turn your head in the opposite direction– although you’ve seen her like this more times than you cared to count. 

Ignoring your reaction, she slips from the sheets- moving closer to you as she ties her hair back into a low ponytail. You draw your gaze to your own feet, too embarrassed and emotional to stress the fact that you’re standing topless in front of the woman who you’d just recently decided that you hated. 

“You alright?” She asks, expression softening at the realization that you weren’t reciprocating her humour. 

You hesitate for a moment, briefly considering the bizarre idea of confessing your feelings for her right then and there. Breaking down, burrowing your tear-streaked face into her bare chest, telling her how much you needed her, how each night you two had spent together meant more than you could even put into words. But you quickly came to your senses once her warm touch causes you to remember that touching is the only thing she cares for from you. 

“You seem…” She scans your face, lips slightly parted as she searches for the right words. 

“I’m alright. Just a bit out of it, maybe still a tad asleep.” You lied, rubbing the non-existent sleep from your eyes for extra effect and half-smiling. 

“Well, then. How about I wake you up?” The words are whispered softly into your skin, and you’re not sure if the sense of relief you feel is thanks to her believing your bold-faced lie or the soft lips that you adored pressing delicately to your shoulder blade.

She doesn’t wait for a response. Instead, she moves behind you and slides the panties you had worked so hard to get on down your legs with ease. 

“Carol,” You groan, grabbing for her hand that now trailed slowly between your thighs. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Her head is quickly withdrawn from the crook of your neck, hand moving just as fast from your cunt. 

“No, no. Just-” Stammering, you turn to look her in the eye, sure to return the lustful gaze she was just giving you. 

“Come.” You order, gripping her wrist and pulling her into the untidy restroom. Relying on your impulsive thoughts and the random wave of adrenaline that had just washed over you, you push her hard against the shower door, drowning her in a passionate kiss before she can return the favor in a fight for dominance you knew you’d lose. 

You kissed her as if your life depended on it. Like oxygen was more a want than a necessity. Like, somehow, if you mashed your lips together hard enough, if you held her close enough, she’d feel the same way about you that you did her. Like maybe, just maybe, if you fucked her good enough, she’d begin to confuse her arousal and satisfaction with infatuation. 

Mistake lust for love. 

Just as you feared you might’ve.

She hums in pleasure as you grope her breasts, opening the clear shower door and roughly shoving her into the empty shower room. You barely give her enough time to flick the shower water to life before you’ve captured her lips in another bruising kiss. 

Her eyes shoot open with shock as she gasps for air in between kisses, you do the same- slowly dropping to your knees before her and looping each of your arms about her wet thighs. Moaning at the taste of her on your tongue, delving into her folds before she’s gotten the chance to spread her legs even a bit for you.

Lapping furiously at ther clit before taking the entirety of it into your mouth, sucking brutally on the throbbing bundle of nerves before lifting your gaze to meet hers. 

She wore the same shocked expression for all of 10 seconds before it quickly morphed into bliss. You eyed her hungrily, raking your sharp nails down the back of her thighs and drawing an aggrieved grunt from her pretty mouth.

You were getting rougher– taking your anger out on every patch of skin you could reach in her body. You began to draw blood from the flushed skin on her thighs as you furiously lapped at the folds of her cunt. Carol grabbed a tense hold of your hair, subtly pulling you away from her as you continued to ignore her moans of a delicious mix of pain and plesure.

One finger slips from her right thigh, teasing her sloppy, wet hole and occasionly bumping into your chin which was violently rubbing against her core. 

“Y/n, yes, please. Fuck,” You’d never heard her beg before, she never once said the word “please” to you- even in casual conversation. The desperation that lingered in her brown eyes as she peered down at you was all the reason you needed to give her exactly what she unabashedly begged for. Moaning at the clearly-satisfied reaction you get once you finally push a finger into her cunt, you’re far from hesitant to add a second. She gasps in pleasure as her nails lightly scratch your scalp through the strong grip she’s taken on your hair. 

Her moans rise into the steamy air as you thrust and curl your fingers. Lightly teasing her clit with your tongue through puckered lips. 

“Y/n, more, please! I’m so close, fuck!” She cries out into the air. 

What if you’re confusing your teammates just as much as you’re confusing yourself? What if it doesn’t work? What if she truly doesn’t love you and no amount of astounding intercourse will change that? 

What if– 

Pushing the thought aside, you obey immediately, pushing a third finger into the already-spasming superheroine above you and quickeing the laps ofyour tongue against her slick heat. 

She comes undone with a screech of your name poorly muffled by her own palm. 

You contine to fuck her into the wall, pace speeding up as she sobs for you to slow down. Hearing her beg for you had you feeling like a man starved of sound, hearing a seraphic melody drift through the air for the first time. 

It was almost sadistic, the way you revelled in her pain, her begging of your leniency, your mercy. 

You wanted to make her feel the way she made you. Hurt. 

You wanted to fuck her so good that she’d be physically and mentally unble to leave your side, to turn your amorous proposal down. 

Her pleas soon fell on deaf ears as your indefatigable fingers pushed deeper and deeper into her, drawing the… what? 4th orgasm from her? You sure as fuck weren’t counting as you sobbed into her warmth. 

The shower water went cold and suddenly all you could hear was “Red, red, red.” in between sobs. Carol jammed her arm against the button, stopping the stream of water as she fell to the ground. (not literally) You both sat in your designated corners of the counterintuitively large shower in silence for a moment. All that could be heard were the soft plops of the remaining water falling from the now-disabled showerhead and your broken cries of “sorry, I’m so sorry”. 

Your tears confused her as she searched your face for an indication as to what the fuck had just happened. 

“I’m sorry.” You croaked. 

“Y/n, it’s alright– you didn’t hurt me, I just had to tap o–” 

Your wet feet slapping against the tiled floor cut her off as you wordlessly walked out of the bathroom and back into her bedroom. 

You pulled your clothes on, the sheet of water and sweat draped across your whole body rendering your flimsy top useless. 

By the time you were heading for the door, Carol was nothing more than a simple blob against the bathroom door through your vision, which was obstructed by tears.

Her touch, her smell, her essence was all over you– and you fought tirelessly to get it off as you waited at the stoplight that seemed to last forever and a day. Slapping at the sleeves of your blouse and wiping the slick from your face with a shaky arm you struggled in the driver’s seat of your car like a wounded and demented wild animal.  The ticking of your left blinker was all you could hear, even after you had switched it off after your wavery turn down the unknown street. You were driving someplace. You didn’t know where– you just knew that it would have to be far enough from fucking Carol Danvers.

Author’s Note

Hi, babies! I'm very sorry if I donked up this series with my peculiarity! I'm Love, if you don't know me-- and this is my formal re-launch into writing after an unfoundedly long hiatus. I've been feeling a little down this month, so my next few fics will be dark and/or angsty. Feel free to request anything you'd like, though! I really do love to hear from you lovelies. <3

Thank you for reading,

Love

[inlovewithfairies]

OPEN REQUESTS!

Halo, i want to write some blackhill in this beautiful day of fuck secret invasion i write soft drabbles so if u want to send me a prompt or comment something you would like to see in something i write on my own i'll be grateful <3

[grechkathekasha]

(“sailor song” by gigi perez starts playing)

[vidalswife]

"She is my scar."

I fear this was the gayest line in cinematic history.

[rhfffas]

gay ppl never break up normally its always gonna be shit like this

[lucyllawless]

[carnagewidow]

i am deceased this is so hot help

Everything’s in Check

Pairing: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Innocent!Reader x Dark!Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Dr. Romanoff has a check up with the help of her nurse assistant, Wanda Maximoff.

Warnings: medical kink, latex gloves kink, fingering, humiliation kink, dark themes, smut (18+) crying, vaginal dilators, numbing with the use of injection

stop reading if it makes you uncomfortable! ALSO i’m not a doctor and refuse to do research, so if i say something medically incorrect… ignore it.

Main Masterlist

DO NOT REPOST ANY OF MY WORK. YOU DO NOT HAVE MY PERMISSION TO DO SO. DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK ON AN OTHER PLATFORM OR “GIVE ME CREDIT”

To be transparent, you feared coming in this morning. You never really had a good experience with doctors. You remember your first doctor, his hands were rough, eyes looked bored, and he barely talked to you. He was a big meanie. Your second doctor was almost the same, only his eyes wandered and asked question you knew had no relation to your visit.

This meant if you needed to go to the doctors, you would make sure to postpone that trip as much as possible. So that’s what you did, only you had a new doctor.

“Are you scared?”

The voice makes you jump. The thin medical gown did little to protect you from the cold or cover your backside. You tried leaving your underwear on, but Nurse Maximoff insisted you took them off to ‘make things easy for Dr. Romanoff’.

“A little,” you reply softly.

You try not to move because you know the medical examination table will squeak. Plus, you know the disposable paper beneath you will tear with a single flinch. You’re trying to save yourself from that embarrassment.

“You can always hold my hand if it gets too much, how does that sound?”

You eyes light up from the kind offer before you shyly nod. “Yes, please. I’ve never done this before and all my friends said it hurt them.”

“It can be scary, but Dr. Romanoff is very good at her job. She’ll do her best to keep you comfortable.” You smile at that and giggle when Nurse Maximoff send you a wink before closing the door.

It isn’t long until you hear muffled voices just outside the door. An unfamiliar woman walks in with Nurse Wanda not far behind. Her presence automatically makes you nervous, you don’t know if it’s her bold hair or the way she briefly smiled at you. On autopilot, the two women wash their hands with such grace. It’s almost like watching ballerinas dance, it’s art.

“How are you doing today, Y/N,” she asked before turning over to look at you. You can’t determine whether or not she is truly asking. Did she care?

Her eyes were pretty, delicate but fierce. Enough green to get lost in and think or the plant stems that carry the blooming flowers; however, they were firm enough to make you stutter.

“I-I am doing good, Dr. Romanoff,” you nod awkwardly as you fiddled with your thumbs.

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart.” She pauses looking down at her click board before continuing, “Please call me Natasha.”

Okay… maybe she does care.

“I take it that my best nurse, Wanda, walked you through everything?” She assumes as she grabs the abnormal latex gloves for a doctor. They aren’t their usual light blue, instead they are black.

Nervously, you answered that she had and said no when she asked you if you had any further questions. She motioned for you to change positions on the examination chair. Latex-covered hands tap your ankles as they are moved on their correct position on the stirrups.

“Just as a precaution we’ll need to strap you down, okay sweetheart?” She doesn’t really leave room for discussion when she nods to Wanda. But you think nothing of it, because Dr. Romanoff’s hands rub your calves gently.

Your breath hitches when Wanda tightens the buckle over your thighs. You’re shy when it’s blatantly obvious your parts are fully exposed. You avoid eye contact the second you see Dr. Romanoff’s eyes look between your legs. Your hands go to cover your face when you hear the two women whisper to each other.

“Oh no, honey. Are you shy?” Natasha coos. She motions for Wanda to comfort you. You almost want to burst into tears when your nurse rubs your arms. The friction is a bit awkward her her gloves on, but you think it’s sweet nonetheless.

“A little.” You whine whine softly and choke on your breath when you feel fingers rub between your legs.

Your teeth bite the inside of your cheek when you see her grab the rather large speculum. Your doctor is more then generous with the lube, something you’re thankful for. You’ve heard the horror stories. Wanda’s hand slips comfortably in yours when Natasha pushes the tip of tool inside you.

Hissing at the cold temperature of the metal incanting your most private area. You try your best to hold in your tears, you do, but it hurts. If it wasn’t for your doctor’s worried eyes looking back at you you’d think she was doing this on purpose.

You would truly believe that Dr. Romanoff was just another meanie.

The grip you have on your nurse’s hand is enough to make your fingers cramp. You can’t imagine how Nurse Maximoff’s hand must feel. Restraints wrapped around your thighs and calves only tighten with every flinch. You can already see the marks and imprint on your skin later.

“I’m hurting you too much,” Natasha sighs, defeated.

You want to scoff in her face, as if the tears rolling down your cheeks and small sniffles weren’t enough, but you cry in relief when she pulls the tool out. At that point you couldn’t think about doing anything else but thank her.

“I know a way it will feel better, okay?” Natasha hums. She hums a second time to get your approval. Butterflies fly in your tummy as you watch her snap the gloves off her hands. Your eyes on her hands and widened when you see she is staring at you, staring at her.

“Yes doctor.”

“And if that doesn’t work I have something else we can try,” she shrugs casually as she shuffled through her medical tools.

You nod as your blink away your dried tears. Anything but that. Glossy eyes glance up at the nurse in the room. Even with her mask on you can tell how beautiful she is. Subconsciously your walls clench around nothing when she sends you a flirty wink. Shy, you break eye contact and try to close your legs. You swear you hear a light chuckle.

“Nurse?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Clean her up.”

Confused you watch your nurse walk around to the corner of the room. You hear the plastic before you see it. Nurse Maximoff settles down where Dr. Romanoff once was with a small pack of wipes.

You throw your head back connecting the dots. This has got to be the most humiliating thing ever. You want to protest and tell both your doctor and nurse that you’re more than capable to clean and wipe yourself away, but your hands are shaky and your heart is racing.

As soon as you feel the first wipe your eyes water once more. You’re ashamed and feel so useless when the nurse grabs the second wipe. She gentle and wipes away all the excess lube left behind from your doctor. You hide your tears and sigh in relief when the redhead sitting between your separated legs is finished. You count to five slowly in your head, blocking out the two intelligent women who seem to have no issue with your nakedness and discomfort.

The colorful box in your doctor’s hands sparks an interest. You barely have a chance to read the label before Dr. Romanoff tears the unopened box. With new clean gloves, she carefully placed these multi-colored, plastic inserts on her sterile tray. There’s five different rod-like devices, each bigger and thicker than the last with a rounded tip.

“I know they look scary, honey,” your doctor paused as she gathered the rest of her tools, “But we will take it slow.”

You nodded, but gave a verbal answer after Nurse Maximoff raised her eyebrows. Once again, the red head found her place between your thighs with the smallest ‘vaginal dilator’ in her hand.

She was quick. Wasted no time.

You gasped when she pushed the small tool passed your entrance. This one wasn’t so bad. Your nails digging into the poor chair could finally relax. Whispers are shared between the two scholars as your doctor carefully switched the tool for a bigger size. This one didn’t sting too much. There was a slight burn.

“Relax.”

The third one hurt. The stretch stun and had your fingernails dig into your palms. Muscles you never knew existed felt sore from the sudden and abnormal stretch. You want to protest when your doctor reaches for the fourth one.

“Too much?”

You nod with shiny eyes.

A silent conversation is shared through the medical professionals with their eyes. Wanda taps your hand before moving to grab something behind you. Your doctor tries to distract you by rubbing her hand on your inner thighs.

“Honey, we are going to try that last thing, m’kay?” she pauses and you swear you have a finger flicking thin glass. “You’ll feel a small pinch,” she squeezes the meaty part of your inner thigh before continuing, “but we will give it a couple seconds to kick in and you won’t feel a thing.”

An intimidating needle is passed onto your doctor which leaves you shaking like a leaf. She explains the small dose will leave you numb for the next thirty to sixty minutes and shouldn’t have any side effects. Your eyes overflowed with tears the second the needle pricks your skin. It’s only for a second and then the pain is gone. Sweet nothings are whispered into your ear as the doctor between your legs waits for drug to kick in. At first it feels funny and weird. Those words are the only ones that can describe it.

“How does that feel?”

You want to laugh at first, because you can’t feel anything, but your doctor is quick to get the message. She works between your legs as a very professional nurse distracts you. Nurse Wanda asks about your day when you see your doctor grab the cold, metal speculum. The same tool that made you flinch before was the least of your worries.

You don’t feel it, but you hear it. You hear how wet the space between your legs is. You can see the fascination in your doctor’s eyes when she replaces her tool with her fingers and you don’t even notice. You don’t notice she has three fingers inside you until she brings the soaked, gloved fingers to your nurse’s mouth. You watch, horrified and embarrassed when Wanda lets your taste sit before letting go of your hand and jotting down some notes. She studies you as if you were unconscious.

Your nurse is no better then your doctor. Humming when your slick hit her tastebuds. She even looks up at the ceiling so deep in a thought before she writes to the words ‘tastes sweet’. Settling her notes on a sterile table, your nurse, Wanda, stands behind Natasha staring hard between your legs.

“Doctor, what about this area here?”

Natasha eyebrows furrowed as her eyes followed her coworker’s pointer finger. She pointed to a small bud you never even knew existed, untouched. Numb between your legs, you jump at the feeling and overwhelming feeling of someone’s touch on the most sensitive part of your body.

“Oh no, looks like our anesthesia didn’t work here,” Natasha pouts with fake sadness. Brushing her latex covered thumb over the bud again making your eyes roll back and mouth fall open. She hums to herself as she continues, “But that doesn’t seem to be a problem, huh?”

A small chuckle that leaves Wanda’s mouth pulls your out of the pleasurable trance. Suddenly, you’re excessively aware of the position you’re in. The straps holding you down are tighter then before, fingernails are now digging into your palms, and the heat between your legs was growing profoundly. Panic start to set when you hear the wet noises. Your whole rocks with each thrust of your doctor’s fingers. The pads of her fingers hitting a spot deep inside you that makes your whole body cry.

Tears fall down your cheeks when you hear side comments like, “if I didn’t know any better I’d say she was a big whore” or “Look here, she can’t even control it.” The image of your doctor’s soaked fingers entering her mouth to “get a taste” for herself was something you knew would haunt you for the rest of your life. You’ll never forget the way she hums at your taste or the intense eye contact she shared with you while she suck her fingers clean. You can’t bare it. The way the two educated women completely disregard you, yet took notes off your body and its reactions. You want to bury yourself in a hole.

“Nurse.”

“Yes, doctor?”

“Bring over a mirror and grab a tissue for our sweet patient.”

If it weren’t for Natasha asking for the tissue you never would have known she cared for your tears. The mirror was something that threw you off. Scared, not knowing what was coming next your eyes follow Wanda as she grabs a circle mirror. The two women share a silent conversation which results in Wanda holding the mirror above Natasha’s head giving you the perfect view of your own body.

You can see Natasha’s fingers glistening with your slick and her spit. You can see the way you drip. You can almost see the way you throb.

You can see it. Her fingers inside, the four fingers stretching you. Your muscles straining to fit the sudden fullest, the fullest you couldn’t feel. You can see the way your muscles contract involuntarily. But you can’t feel it. Not until Wanda’s fingers rub your clit. Your whole body jerks as if Wanda had some type of power. You didn’t see them, but you hear the smirks on the women’s faces.

“There she is.”

Moans fall pass your lips uncontrollably. Wanda’s thumb doesn’t seem to rest as she circles your clit over and over again. Every time you closed your eyes are turn away from looking at the mirror Wanda landed a firm slap on your clit. Each time your thighs flinch and involuntarily vote to shut, but the straps tying them down only tighten. Your eyebrows scrunch in both confusion and pleasure. You’re confused by what you’re feeling. There’s heat in your belly as your hear beats faster than a racehorse.

“Come on, honey. Let go.”

Her directions are comforting, but your mind is foggy. The view of your doctor and her nurse towering over —what used to be— your untouched body. Her fingers inside you move faster, you can hear your body’s reaction and see Natasha’s concentration in her eyes. Weakly you shake your head no. Your skin on your chest feels hot. The medical gown you wore felt itchy on your skin. Your nipples pebbled through the thin material. With every move you whined at the feeling of the cotton dragging against your nipples. So sensitive.

“Let go, Y/N. I’m not asking.”

Natasha’s voice is enough to have you shaking in fear. She has all the power, she’s calling the shots.

“I don’t know how.”

Natasha sends Wanda a look that has the nurse smirking before nodding. You don’t know how her hand wasn’t tired from holding the mirror. It felt like you spread out open for the two of them for years. Natasha leans forward, blocking your own view of yourself. Bambi eyes meet Wanda’s because you don’t yearn for her hand to roughly meet your clit again. Her touch send tingles up your spine from the pain. Instead, you’re meet with something sweeter. Warm lips press a soft kiss on your clit. Eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel her tongue lick parts of you, you never even thought people wanted to taste.

Your hands have a mind of their own when your finger bury themselves in her red strands of hair. Pulling her mouth impossibly closer, whining when the pleasurable sensation would disappear if she lick too low. Your teeth clench when Natasha’s teeth lightly graze your clit. You want to let out a loud moan, but it’s swallowed by Wanda’s kiss.

Wanda, feeling a bit left out, took matters into your own hands and stole your first kiss. The kiss is messy. An inexperienced mouth paired with a brain clouded with first time sex wasn’t a smart choice. Teeth clash together, but Wanda doesn’t seem to mind. Her notebook and mirror were long forgotten as her hands slip beneath your medical gown and reach your breasts. Her lips find themselves wrapped around your tongue as she slowly pulls away there’s spit dribbling down his chin, it’s exotic. You have much time to process the wet dream of a woman right in front of you when Natasha works harder with her mouth and Wand’s fingers find your sensitive nipples. Rolling your nipples between her fingers while Natasha sucks, licks, bites, and kisses between your legs.

You feel your very first orgasm running you over like a truck. Your thighs shake as your body throbs in want. Natasha’s mouth doesn’t stop and Wanda’s fingers found their new home in your mouth. Latex-covered fingers trigger your gag reflex causing your eyes to blur with tears. You can’t see the way you soak your doctor’s face, but you get an idea when she pulls away and drags your hands away from her scalp and onto her face. Fingertips are met with a wet substance, then brought to your lips. Lips smeared with spit and a small hint of Wanda’s lipstick are now taking in a sweet taste.

“Such a sweet girl.”

Tuckered out, you don’t fulling understand the comment. You’re drained, literally, to a point you have no idea who spoke. You hear small shifts and feel hands on your knees. Wanda’s hands find the leather straps holding you down. You sigh, grateful for freedom. Only it never comes, the straps only tighten, you’re not sure how, but they do.

“Let’s try that again.”

Finally, the fic that’s long overdue. Don’t forget to reblog! If not comment :) also thanks for 4.3k followers!!

[wandascrush]

how do I make more tumblr friends help…🙏🏼

[reversedanatomy]

Finding Peace: Chapter 1

Summary: The first chapter to a slow-burn Nat x Reader fic. Building the relationship between Wanda x Reader. First Marvel fic and post here so I'm still getting used to preferable layouts, writing styles, tags, etc!!

TW: 18+!!! sexual themes, bad relationship themes, alcoholism, swearing, aggressiveness, uncomfortable topics.

Gif not mine

You remember the first night that you and Wanda had gone on a date. You two met inorganically through a dating app. It wasn’t something you were too keen on using, but the dating scene was impossible in the area, and you thought you might give it a try. After meeting Wanda for the first night at a sports bar downtown, the sparks between you two were evident. Her confidence spread goosebumps throughout your body as she weaved her way through a crowd of people lined up at the bar to meet you at your table. She was more radiant than any of her pictures on her profile.

“Y/N?” She leaned over you, placing a locked arm on the surface of the table to emphasize her cleavage.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, in awe of the outfit she chose to shape her body. She then smiled and slid into your lap. Caressing your face with her hands, she pressed her lips into yours as if she’d known you for years. You let yourself feel every spark, every firework she set off inside of your chest. The callouses of her hands cupped your jawline. They slid up your face to push your hair behind your ear. Her kiss was warm as it traveled from your lips to the corner of your mouth and down your neck. Her hands followed.

“You waste no time,” you smirked and pushed her deeper towards you. It was all so warm, so familiar. “This doesn’t seem like the place we should be doing this, though. How about we skip the small talk and head back to my place?” You lifted her chin with the tips of your fingers and presented your offer. She gave you a toothy smile that reached ear to ear.

“That’s rather bold of you,” she replied with a twinge of sarcasm. You snorted and let your thumb glide across her cheek. "How about a few drinks first? I get a bit nervous on first dates unless I've had a few." You admired her forwardness albeit it wasn’t something you were familiar with.

“Could’ve fooled me,” a chuckle slipped from your chest. “I thought you were already a few deep and I needed to catch up.” Wanda smiled in response. She moved from your lap onto the seat next to you and pulled a five from her coat pocket. She slid it towards you.

“Catch me up, then,” she whispered into your ear and patted the five before crossing her legs and folding her arms in an act of seductive defiance. A grin curled at the corners of your mouth, and you rolled your eyes in response and clicked your tongue. You took the five and made your way to the bar.

After a few drinks and some small talk, you two left the bar hand-in-hand to wander the downtown streets. Winter was arriving soon, and the biting cold left you breathless. Wanda noticed quickly and drew you into her long, black overcoat with a light tan trim. Already, you felt warmer. Already, you felt safe.

The two of you wandered for hours, but it only felt like minutes. Once your feet started hurting, you two both settled onto the stair steps outside of some unlabeled Baroque-style building. Your hands interlocked perfectly together as you both shared her coat. Wanda made you laugh. It was a genuine, hearty laugh that you hadn’t laughed in years. She was laughing, too. She said that she loved your humor, and that made you grin even more. Your grin was followed, however, with a yawn.

“Starting to get tired?” Wanda yawned in response. You nodded, another full laugh slipping from your chest.

“I mean…kind of? But… I just don’t want this night to end,” you sighed. Wanda kissed your forehead.

“Who says it has to end?” You looked up at her, meeting her blue-green eyes with admiration. “I figured that was the intention from the beginning, so I may or may not have taken us to my apartment.” Wanda turned around and pointed to the third story of the building, where the faint glow of a lamp illuminated through the window.

“That’s rather bold of you, Wanda,” you made reference to her previous claim at the bar. Wanda struck you a side-eye, her auburn hair falling from behind her ear to frame her face. You shrugged. “Well, what are we waiting for? I’m cold as hell and it looks like there’s an apartment up there calling my name.” You stood up and took her hand into your pocket before turning towards the apartment. She stumbled a bit on the steps while standing up, but was eager and quick to let both of you into the building.

The rest of the night was one to remember. The way Wanda felt underneath you felt just as natural as when she kissed you in the bar earlier that night. When you two were ready to sleep, you held her close to your body. You never wanted to let go of this feeling. Everything inside of you buzzed, and a warmth rushed through your veins. You looked at Wanda sleeping in your arms. You never wanted this night to end.

---------------------

Nearly three and a half years later, all you wanted was for this night to end. You locked yourself in the bathroom as you heard Wanda in the living room smash her liquor bottle on the wall. You held your hands against your ears as you listened to her shouting about how much this relationship was breaking her, how you were breaking her.

Tears fell down your cheeks. This isn’t what you wanted when you two moved in together into a small apartment in Chicago after dating for a year. For as long as you could’ve remembered, the honeymoon stage never left. The butterflies still fluttered through the garden of your body when you held her in your arms. It was all perfect. All perfect, until the first argument.

Wanda drank. A lot. It wasn’t a problem at first when the two of you were frequenting bars on date nights with or without friends. As time progressed, however, and the two of you moved in with each other, you realized she was just as much of a drinker at home as she was at bars. You mentioned your insecurities about it with her when you noticed that it was affecting your relationship, but she turned up her nose to you and poured herself another glass.

She blamed her alcoholism on a shitty childhood and high-stress job. She never told you what she did for a living, but you noticed she was often gone on extended trips to places she said she couldn’t talk about with you. “Think of it like I signed an NDA,” she would say as an excuse. You sighed and accepted there were things you were better off not knowing. If you pried, however, another argument would start. The drinking would start.

This was one of those nights. Wanda said she was leaving in a week for an entire month on an international trip for work. “We had plans for our three-and-a-half-year anniversary and my birthday, remember?” You said.

“I know, but you know how work is,” Wanda pouted and gave you the ‘eyes’ that she always gave you to get her way when it came to leaving for work.

“No, I don’t know how work is,” you snapped in response. “I never know how work is. You never tell me. For all I know, you could be off fucking somebody or somebodies in Spain or China or fuck knows where else.” You felt the heat rise in your face as a pit formed in your throat. You were choking out your words now because you were scared. But… it was okay to feel insecure about this, right? Wanda told you that you shouldn’t, but all of your friends agree with you that if she’s leaving all the time that you at least have the right to know where she is.

“What are you, my mom? Stop being controlling.” Wanda wouldn’t make eye contact with you. She was sitting at the kitchen bar, staring at the ice in her glass as she swirled her drink. You became irate. You ran your fingers through your hair, gripping into your roots.

“I’m controlling? You’re the one who’s disappearing for weeks or months on end without giving me the time of day. Sure, I was fine with your work trips when they were planned in advance and only for a few days at a time. Now, it’s like you’re leaving every other week, and I don’t know when I’m going to see you again.” The tears began welling up in your eyes. They burned. You began pacing back and forth between the living room and the kitchen.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Wanda put her drink down and began getting up from her stool. “I wish I could tell you. I really do.” She was drunkenly stumbling towards you, arms outstretched. You noticed her coming towards you, and you started for the bathroom. “Y/N, please don’t do this right now.”

Now you were here, in the bathroom. You turned the lock and slid down with your back against the wall. Wanda pressed her head against the door and started pawing at it.

“Y/N, please don’t do this. Just let m’in ‘nd we c’n talk about it,” Wanda stumbled over her words as she continued to paw at the door. When you didn’t reply, she started knocking. Louder. Louder. Louder, she knocked until you finally responded.

“Wanda, please, just leave me alone. You’re drunk, and I just don’t want to deal with this right now.” You were crying faster than you could wipe your tears, but Wanda wouldn’t leave.

“Then just tell me to leave if you don’t want me around,” Wanda smacked the door before you could hear her walking back to the kitchen. Then came a crash as you heard what sounded like a liquor bottle, or maybe her drink, being thrown to the floor. Jesus, what’s happening to us, Wanda? You thought to yourself as you reached for the tissues to dry your tears and blow your nose. There was more stomping, and the sound of walls being punched before you could hear Wanda trudging back towards the bathroom door.

“This is all your fucking fault, Y/N.” Wanda smacked her hand against the door again. You flinched from behind the door, but you refused to respond. It would only make her angrier if you said anything. “If only you just didn’t question what I did for work like what we agreed on when we first started dating, we wouldn’t be dealing with this problem.” It’s different when we’ve been together for three-and-a-half years as opposed to a few months, you wanted to say, but you held your tongue. Wanda continued.

“I’m not fucking anybody else, if that’s what you want to hear. I’m loyal to you. I’ve only ever been loyal to you,” Wanda started crying and hitting her head against the door. “I love you, Y/N. I only ever show you that I love you. You’re my everything.” The banging stopped. “But if you want me to leave, just tell me.” There was only quiet except for the quiet tears you could barely hear from Wanda. Your breath left your body in a long, exasperated sigh. You lifted your head from between your knees and twisted your upper half towards the door.

“I don’t want you to leave, Wanda. I just want things to go back to the way they were before.” You spoke monotonously, making sure your voice was emotionless enough as to not set Wanda off again.

“It’s never going to go back to the way things were,” you heard Wanda slide her back down the door from the other side. This made you start crying again, even harder. You were scared. If she left, you’d lose three-and-a-half years with the person you thought you were going to marry.

“What happened to us?” You forced a laugh through your tears. You paused after saying that to wait for a response from Wanda. Nothing. Your smile faded back into sorrow as you buried your chin between your knees and looked down at the floor. Maybe Wanda was doing the same. Maybe she was also contemplating the relationship—whether it’d end or whether they’d keep recycling the same arguments and this same drunken routine. You knew nothing was going to change, but you still wanted to try. Maybe it was because you were more scared to be alone than to keep hearing her slam on the bathroom door and smash bottles. When it was good, it was great. But there were so many moments now that left you feeling weak, tired, scared, and unfulfilled that you pondered whether the good moments just made you feel safe, or if they were actually great.

Wanda never responded to your question. You sat up on your knees, took one last breath, and turned to open the door. Your hand settled on the doorknob. Once you opened that door, you knew all the memories you two spent together would shatter like the glass from earlier. You felt that pit rising back into your throat as you unlocked the knob and started opening the door. The idea of facing Wanda right now terrified you—not because she was violent and angry, but because you hated those difficult, uncomfortable conversations about what happens next between you two.

You turned the doorknob and took a step back. You felt the door swing towards you with the weight of Wanda as she collapsed onto the floor. She was passed out. If this was two years ago, you would be rushing to her side and checking her pulse. Now, this was frequent. Weekly. Daily, even. You kneeled beside her to confirm her breathing before grabbing her by the forearms to drag her into the bedroom. As you dragged her, you glanced at the kitchen floor. She only smashed her empty glass, not the entire bottle. At least this time it would be an easy cleanup for tomorrow morning.

Once in the bedroom, you spent no time pulling her arm across your shoulder to help her into bed. You pulled back the bed sheets, set her on her side in the bed, and pulled the sheets up to her chin. You contemplated giving her a kiss on the forehead, but you recognized that this could be the last time you two ever had some kind of physical touch. You leaned in and gave her a quick peck. It tasted bittersweet.

You crawled into bed next to her and studied her face. Wanda was sleeping so peacefully. Her lips were slightly parted, and her auburn hair fell over her face. She always slept with her hand under her face when she laid on her side. You thought one more time about the first night at the bar and the confidence she had upon meeting you. You reminisced on the times you two made love, contemplated marriage, talked about what having kids running around the house would be like, and how you two would grow old together. You wanted so badly for everything to circle back to the sparks you two felt that first night, as that was what kept you going through this mistreatment all these years with her. These memories flooded through your mind, until you finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

-------------------------------------

The next morning, you woke up to the bed empty beside you. “Wanda?” You called out for her. No response. She must either be watching TV, or she left to head to the store for breakfast. The pain from the night before held strong in your chest as you composed yourself before heading into the living room. You scanned for any sight of Wanda. The TV was off and there was no sign of her. The site on the kitchen floor where she smashed her glass was swept and mopped. Then, your eyes lifted, where you noticed a note left on the bar.

You instantly rushed to the note, feeling yourself grow heavy as you got closer and closer to it. You picked it up and felt your hands shaking as you read it:

Y/N, I’m so sorry for last night, and I’m so sorry for everything I’m about to write to you. We both knew this day would come where we would part. You and I both have been going through a lot, and I think it’s time that we spent time apart so that we can work on ourselves. Also, work sent for me this morning. I thought we would have more time together before I left to get some kind of closure, but they needed me urgently. I’ll be gone for a while, they said. Months, maybe even years. Please don’t go looking for me. I’ll be okay. I love you.

                                                                                                            -Wanda.

You fell to the floor and broke into tears. You let out an ugly, guttural cry as you held the note to your chest. It was over without any conversation. There was no closure. There was no last goodbye as Wanda would step out the door and leave. There was no watching her from the window as she’d walk through the city streets before melting into the crowd, disappearing from your life together. This note was quick and nonconfrontational. It was unlike her.

You put the note in your kitchen drawer and slumped onto the couch. Whatever came next, you could handle it. You always could. You switched the TV on and felt yourself cry. You let yourself cry. A new chapter would open for you, you just had to accept it.

[ziggythemoonman]

“hey, so me and my coven saw you from across the room and we reaaaaally dig your vibe…”

[witchofthemidlands]

this is the wlw version of the honda odyssey moment.

[grechkathekasha]

world’s best ex girlfriend? of course!

[vidalswife]

"Leave her with me."

"NO! NO WAY!"

"A minute ago, you were ready to slit her throat?"

"Yeah well her mother can't have her!"

WHAT THE FUCK DISNEY?? WHAT LESBIANS DO YOU HAVE ON HOLD?! THIS SHIT IS STRAIGHT OUT OF AN AO3 FANFIC