#gn :P

[butter-on-ghost]

I have been fucking pummeled to death by you all

might revive tmmr

[ilovemarvel97]

Almost

Wanda Maximoff x G!P Reader

Summary: After a miscarriage, Wanda and Y/N’s marriage is tested by grief.

Word Count: 11k+

Warnings: angst, grief, happy ending

Main Masterlist

---

They say love is patient. But Wanda was beginning to think maybe love had never known the ache of trying.

It had been almost a year since she and Y/N started trying. Almost a year since they’d made that quiet promise, lying in bed with legs tangled and cheeks still flushed from love—“Let’s make a baby.” It was spoken between kisses, the sort of dreamy wish you whisper to the stars when you’re too happy to believe anything bad could happen.

They tried. God, they tried.

At first, it had been beautiful—full of laughter and excitement. Wanda would pull Y/N into her lap, kissing her deeply as they undressed each other. She loved watching Y/N’s eyes darken with need, loved how her body responded so perfectly to her touch. They made love in every room of the house that first month, giddy with hope.

Y/N would hold Wanda gently after, whispering things against her temple.

“Maybe this is the one.”

“Would she have your eyes?”

“If it’s twins, we’re screwed.”

“Wanda… you’ll be the most beautiful mother.”

But then, the first test came. Negative.

Then the second.

Then the third.

Then a month with no period—hope bloomed, only to shatter.

A false positive.

Wanda started to cry in the bathroom.

And Y/N—Y/N stopped smiling quite as often.

They stopped talking about names. About rooms and colors and cribs. Instead, Wanda began tracking her ovulation like a soldier—rigid, organized, mechanical. No more soft seductions in the hallway. Now it was, “I’m fertile. Come now.” And Y/N would nod, her heart splitting in silence, and take her to bed.

They still made love—but sometimes, it didn’t feel like love anymore. It felt like duty. Like desperation. Still, they held each other close afterward, too afraid to say the truth out loud:

What if this never works?

---

On the 11th month, Wanda stopped looking at the stick before the five-minute timer.

She just threw it on the counter and curled up on the bathroom floor.

Y/N found her there.

She didn’t ask what the result was. She just sank down, pulled Wanda into her lap, and whispered, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”

---

It was the end of April when Wanda woke up feeling different. Her body wasn’t sore in the same way. Her stomach didn’t hurt. Her breasts tingled. She didn’t want coffee.

It was small, almost unnoticeable.

But something inside her… shifted.

She didn’t say anything to Y/N that morning. Y/N had already left early for work. She just stood in the kitchen holding her mug, staring at nothing. Then—on impulse—she went to the bathroom.

She took the test. And then another. And a third.

When the timer went off, Wanda sat on the toilet, afraid to look.

But she did.

One line.

Two lines.

Three positive tests.

Wanda didn’t scream. She didn’t cry.

She just sat there—trembling, in absolute silence—as her hand flew to her stomach.

You’re real.

But Y/N wasn’t home.

She wasn’t there to hear the sharp inhale Wanda took, or the soft sob that broke her, or the way she laughed through her tears, repeating over and over, “We did it… we did it…”

She wasn’t there to see Wanda sink to the floor, still clutching the test, rocking slowly, as if afraid to move too much in case the dream shattered.

Y/N was at work—handling emails, laughing with a coworker, pouring coffee into a chipped Avengers mug.

She had no idea that, miles away, the woman she loved was crying in a sunlit bathroom, whispering to the life blooming inside her:

“She’s going to be so happy.”

---

The house was quiet when Y/N stepped through the door that evening.

She kicked off her shoes with a tired sigh, the muscles in her back aching from sitting at her desk all day. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a soft, dusky glow through the living room window. The kind of light that made everything feel like a painting.

“Wanda?” she called softly, setting her bag on the table.

No answer.

She didn’t panic. It wasn’t uncommon for Wanda to be deep in her thoughts, or napping after a hard day. The last few months had been heavy for both of them, and Y/N had been careful—gentle with her voice, her touch, her presence. As if Wanda were made of glass and heartbreak.

She moved through the hallway and toward the bathroom, noticing the faint light under the door.

And then she heard it.

A soft sniffle. A breath caught in a throat. The quietest whisper of, “Please be real…”

Y/N’s chest tightened.

She knocked gently. “Wands?”

The door creaked open slowly.

And there she was. Sitting on the floor. Legs curled to her chest, red-rimmed eyes looking up through a blur of tears. Her hands were shaking.

Y/N’s heart dropped. She was beside her in a second, crouching low.

“Baby, what happened? Are you—did something happen?”

Wanda didn’t speak.

She just reached forward, picked something up from beside her, and pressed it into Y/N’s palm.

Three sticks. Two unmistakable lines.

Y/N blinked down, her lips parting in disbelief. She stared. And stared.

Then she lifted her eyes, her voice barely more than a breath.

“…Is this real?”

Wanda let out a tearful laugh. “I think so. I—I took three. I wanted to be sure. I thought I was imagining it. I still kind of feel like I am.”

Y/N’s fingers tightened around the tests, and she collapsed to her knees beside Wanda, cupping her face with both hands.

“You’re pregnant?”

Wanda nodded.

Y/N’s eyes flooded with tears, fast and silent, before she pulled Wanda into the tightest embrace she’d ever given her.

And there they stayed.

On the cold bathroom tiles.

Wrapped around each other, trembling and breathless and completely overwhelmed.

Y/N kissed her—everywhere. Her cheeks, her forehead, her mouth, her stomach. She buried her face in Wanda’s neck and held her like she never wanted to let go.

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “We’re having a baby. You’re going to be a mom, Wands.”

Wanda sobbed harder, her hands buried in Y/N’s shirt. “You’re going to be a mom.”

They stayed like that for a long time—just clinging to each other in the quiet miracle of the moment they thought would never come.

After almost a year of pain and waiting and wondering, they finally got what they wanted.

A new heartbeat. A tiny life.

Hope.

A future.

They didn’t sleep that night.

Not really.

They tried—cuddled under the soft sheets, limbs entwined like always—but every few minutes one of them would stir and whisper, “Can you believe it?” or reach out just to feel the other. Just to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

At one point, Wanda rolled over, placed Y/N’s hand on her stomach, and whispered, “You’re in there… aren’t you, little one?” Then she looked up, tears in her eyes. “She’s really in there.”

Y/N chuckled softly, stroking her hand over the tiny swell that didn’t exist yet but somehow already felt sacred. “She or he—or they—is in the safest place in the world.”

Wanda pulled her closer. “Next to you?”

“No,” Y/N murmured against her lips. “Inside you.”

---

The next morning, Y/N made breakfast even though she couldn’t stop yawning—pancakes with fresh strawberries, because it was Wanda’s favorite. She hummed while she cooked, a hand always drifting down to touch her own stomach, as if she could feel the connection too.

Wanda sat at the kitchen island, still in her robe, watching her with a soft, sleepy smile.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “You’re staring.”

“You’re glowing.”

“Wands, I’m not the one pregnant.”

Wanda grinned. “Doesn’t matter. You’re still glowing.”

They laughed—and then they cried again, out of nowhere, because that’s what happens when your dream finally becomes real.

---

They scheduled their first appointment that week.

Y/N went with her, of course, sitting stiffly in the tiny clinic chair while Wanda lay back for the ultrasound. Her heart was racing faster than Wanda’s. She kept her hand over her wife’s, thumb moving in slow, grounding circles.

The room was quiet. Then came the sound.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Wanda gasped. Y/N froze.

“There it is,” the technician said softly. “A very strong little heartbeat.”

Wanda turned her head to look at Y/N, and the look on her face—pure awe, trembling lips, love radiating from every pore—nearly undid her.

Y/N leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“I hear you, baby,” she whispered, meaning both of them.

---

They told no one at first.

Just held the secret between them like a flame cupped between trembling hands.

Y/N came home early almost every day. She made dinner, brought Wanda snacks, insisted she rest even when she wasn’t tired. Wanda teased her for being overprotective, but her smile said she loved every second of it.

And when Wanda started getting sick in the mornings, Y/N held her hair and whispered soothing things in Sokovian. She didn’t speak the language well, but Wanda said the effort alone made her heart ache in the best way.

They started journaling. One for each of them. Writing little letters to the baby. Wanda’s were poetic. Y/N’s were funny and full of doodles. They kept them in the top drawer beside the bed.

---

One night, weeks later, Wanda lay curled on the couch in one of Y/N’s old t-shirts, her hand absentmindedly stroking her stomach. The bump was barely there, but to them, it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Y/N knelt beside her, rested her head gently against her belly.

“Hi, bean,” she whispered. “Just so you know… I loved you before I even heard your heartbeat.”

Wanda’s eyes shimmered. “Me too.”

And for the first time in a long time, there were no doubts. No ache. No fear.

Just love.

For the life they made.

For the life they shared.

For the life still coming.

---

By the time Wanda reached the second trimester, everything started to feel more real.

The nausea faded. The exhaustion eased. And the bump—finally—began to show.

Y/N noticed it first.

She came home one afternoon with Wanda’s favorite soup and flowers that were slightly wilted but chosen with love, and paused when she saw her wife standing in front of the hallway mirror.

Wanda had pulled her shirt up, revealing a small but undeniable curve.

Y/N froze, her breath catching.

Wanda caught her staring and blushed. “It’s not much, but…”

Y/N dropped everything.

She crossed the room in three steps, knelt down in front of her, and pressed the softest kiss to her belly.

“You’re growing so fast,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Hi again, bean.”

Wanda looked down, brushing her fingers through Y/N’s hair. “You make me feel so beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” Y/N said without hesitation. “But this? You carrying our baby? It’s—Wanda, it’s magic.”

---

They decided to share the news a week later.

They invited everyone over under the guise of a small dinner—just Clint, Nat, Sam, and a few others. Nothing big. Nothing dramatic.

Wanda wore a soft red dress that clung to her belly just enough. Y/N kept sneaking glances at her like she couldn’t believe she was real.

Over dessert, Wanda stood up and said simply, “We have news.”

Y/N stood beside her, fingers laced with hers, heart pounding.

“I’m pregnant,” Wanda said, voice shaking but proud.

There was a moment of stunned silence. And then—

Shouts. Cheers. Laughs. Hugs.

Clint cried the second time he hugged her. Natasha offered to kill anyone who stressed Wanda out during her pregnancy. Sam brought baby socks the next day, and Tony sent them a stroller they hadn’t even asked for.

It was loud and chaotic and perfect.

That night, as they lay curled together in bed, Wanda whispered, “You think they’ll love her?”

Y/N smiled against her skin. “Are you kidding? She’s already got more family than she’ll know what to do with.”

---

The Gender Reveal

They didn’t want something flashy. No fireworks. No paint-filled balloons.

Just them. Just the two of them.

Their doctor had written the gender on a small card, sealed in an envelope. Y/N tucked it into a book until they were ready.

One rainy Saturday, curled on the couch in matching socks and with a plate of warm cookies on the table, Wanda finally said, “Let’s open it.”

Y/N’s hands trembled as she tore the seal.

She glanced at the paper. Then looked up, eyes wide, glassy.

Wanda held her breath. “Tell me.”

Y/N handed her the card.

It read: Female.

Wanda’s hands flew to her mouth.

Y/N was already crying. “We’re having a girl.”

A sob slipped from Wanda’s chest as she threw her arms around Y/N, holding her tightly. “A girl. A daughter…”

“She’s going to be so strong,” Y/N whispered. “She’s going to have your magic, your heart, your fire.”

“She’s going to have your soul,” Wanda whispered back, pulling away just enough to kiss her. “And your stupid laugh.”

They both started laughing and crying at the same time.

Wanda placed Y/N’s hand over her bump again. “She’s listening. She knows we love her already.”

Y/N pressed her forehead to Wanda’s.

“I would’ve loved her no matter what.”

---

Nesting & Names

Wanda began nesting somewhere around week 22.

Y/N came home one day to find the entire nursery reorganized for the third time.

“Wands… did you paint the crib?”

“It needed to be sage green.”

“It was already sage green.”

“It was the wrong sage.”

Y/N bit her lip, trying not to laugh, and crossed the room. She wrapped her arms around her from behind, resting her hands on Wanda’s stomach.

“You’re nesting.”

“I’m pregnant and chaotic,” Wanda said, exasperated. “And my feet hurt. And your daughter won’t stop kicking my ribs.”

“She’s probably kicking because she inherited your dramatic flair.”

“She inherited your legs. That’s the problem.”

They both laughed, and then Wanda winced with another sharp jab from inside.

Y/N lowered herself to her knees and kissed the bump. “Alright, you. Settle down. Mama needs a break.”

They settled on a name a week later, lying in bed and whispering possibilities into the dark.

When they found it, it just fit—like it had always belonged to her.

Wanda said it softly against Y/N’s lips, and Y/N felt like she’d been kissed by the future.

---

But it didn’t last long. 

It all happened suddenly. 

Y/N didn’t know how long she’d been asleep when it happened.

But she woke up to Wanda screaming her name.

“Y/N!!”

Then—smack—a sharp slap against her arm.

Y/N jolted upright, dazed, heart pounding.

“Wanda?! Baby, what—”

Then she saw the blood.

It stained the sheets—bright, terrible red—spreading beneath Wanda’s thighs. Wanda was sitting up, shaking, one hand between her legs, her face ashen.

“It’s blood,” she gasped, eyes wide with panic. “Y/N—it won’t stop—I woke up and—oh my god—”

Y/N’s world tilted sideways.

“No—no, no, no, baby—” she threw off the covers and grabbed Wanda as gently but as quickly as she could. “We have to go. Now.”

She didn’t wait for help.

Didn’t call anyone.

She scooped Wanda into her arms—arms that had always been strong, but never felt the weight of the world like this. Wanda curled into her, sobbing, whispering the same phrase over and over:

“Don’t let her go. Don’t let her go.”

“I won’t,” Y/N choked out. “I’ve got you. I swear, I’ve got you.”

She ran—barefoot down the hallway, through the front door, into the night.

The stars blurred. The wind felt sharp.

She didn’t feel anything but Wanda shaking in her arms.

---

Y/N placed her in the passenger seat as gently as she could, hands covered in blood. She buckled her in, kissed her forehead.

“Hold on, Wands. Hold on.”

Then she slammed the door and jumped into the driver’s seat.

The engine roared to life.

And she drove like the world was ending.

Red lights blurred past. Speed limits meant nothing. Horns screamed as she ran intersections, tires screeching across the asphalt. Her hands were shaking. Her heart was a war drum.

“Please, please, please…” she kept whispering under her breath. “Just hold on.”

Wanda whimpered beside her, one hand gripping her belly, the other clutching the edge of the seat.

“It hurts so much,” she sobbed. “Y/N, I’m scared—what if something’s wrong—what if she’s—”

“Don’t,” Y/N said quickly, voice breaking. “Don’t say it. She’s okay. You’re okay. You’re both okay.”

But the truth was clawing at her throat. The blood hadn’t stopped. It soaked the towel Wanda had wrapped around herself. Her face was pale. Her breathing uneven.

Every second stretched out like an eternity.

---

She reached the emergency room and didn’t even park properly. She left the engine running, the door wide open. She ran around the car, yanked open the passenger side, and lifted Wanda into her arms again.

“Help!!” she screamed the second she crossed the threshold. “Please—my wife—she’s pregnant—she’s bleeding—someone help us!”

A nurse sprinted forward. Then another. Voices rose. A gurney appeared out of nowhere.

Y/N laid Wanda down, breathless, shaking.

“She’s twenty-three weeks,” she gasped. “Please—our baby—please—”

“We’ve got her,” one of the nurses said gently, already moving fast. “You did good. You got her here. Now let us take care of her.”

But Y/N didn’t feel like she did good.

She felt like she was losing everything.

She tried to follow them, but someone held her back. “Ma’am—you need to wait here—”

“I can’t—I can’t let her go in there alone—please, please—”

“Y/N—”

It was Wanda’s voice, weak, from the gurney.

Their eyes locked.

“Stay close,” she whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Y/N promised. “I’m right here. Right here.”

Then they disappeared behind the double doors.

And Y/N stood alone in the sterile hallway, hands stained with the most terrifying shade of red she’d ever seen, whispering over and over:

“Please… don’t take her from us.”

---

The Waiting Room

Y/N sat in the sterile hospital hallway, her hands still stained with blood.

Wanda’s blood.

Their daughter’s blood.

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there. Minutes? Hours? Time had folded in on itself. Every nurse that walked past without meeting her eyes felt like another nail in her chest. Every second without news was a scream inside her skull.

Her phone buzzed. Clint. Natasha. Melissa—her mom. Dozens of texts, missed calls.

She didn’t answer.

She just stared at the swinging doors, waiting for someone to say anything.

Please just say she’s okay.

Please just say she’s alive.

The doctor came out at last. A woman in her fifties, kind eyes, blood on her gloves.

Y/N stood before she could think. “Is she—Wanda—is she okay? Please tell me—”

“She’s stable,” the doctor said gently, her voice calm in the worst possible way. “She’s asleep now. We managed to stop the hemorrhaging.”

Y/N nearly collapsed in relief. Her knees buckled and she gripped the edge of the chair. “Okay. Okay. Thank god. Thank god.”

But the doctor didn’t smile.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, carefully. “Your baby… didn’t make it.”

Y/N’s ears rang.

The world stopped.

“No,” she said.

The doctor’s voice remained steady, but soft. “We did everything we could. She was just too small. There was too much blood loss.”

“No,” Y/N whispered again, louder this time. “No—no, no, you don’t understand—she kicked this morning. She kicked while Wanda was brushing her teeth. She was alive. I heard her heartbeat.”

“I know,” the doctor said, reaching out. “And I’m so sorry.”

Y/N pulled back.

She couldn’t breathe. Her chest was tight, her hands shaking.

She turned away from the doctor and covered her mouth with both palms.

Their baby was gone.

Gone.

The little girl who had a name. A room. A blanket with her initials already embroidered. The daughter they had talked to through Wanda’s belly, told bedtime stories to, sang lullabies for.

She never took a breath.

Y/N didn’t cry at first. Not in the hallway. Not in front of the doctor. Not when she called her mom and couldn’t even speak.

But when she stepped into the empty restroom, locked the door, and saw herself in the mirror—covered in Wanda’s dried blood, in the hoodie she’d thrown on over pajamas, her eyes wide and hollow—

She shattered.

Her knees gave out.

She sank to the floor and sobbed like something feral—like her chest was being split open from the inside out.

Not quiet. Not graceful.

Ugly, desperate, broken crying.

She curled into herself, fists clenched in her hair, teeth biting her forearm to muffle the sound until it tasted like iron.

She had lost her daughter. Their daughter.

The future she pictured, the late-night feedings, the little shoes by the door, the first time she’d call her “Mama”—gone.

She stayed like that for minutes. Maybe longer.

Until a nurse knocked on the door, asking softly, “Ma’am? She’s asking for you.”

Y/N wiped her face. Rinsed her hands. Threw cold water on her cheeks. Looked at herself in the mirror and whispered, She needs you. She doesn’t know yet.

And that thought—she doesn’t know yet—nearly broke her all over again.

But she stood.

Straightened her shoulders.

And walked back down the hall to Wanda’s room.

---

Wanda was awake when Y/N stepped inside.

She looked exhausted, pale, her eyes rimmed red from crying, but alert now. Waiting.

The moment she saw Y/N, she searched her face.

Her voice was small. “The baby?”

Y/N’s throat closed up.

She took slow steps toward the bed, then sat on the edge and reached for Wanda’s hand.

It was cold. Shaking.

Y/N brought it to her lips.

“Wanda…” Her voice cracked. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

Wanda blinked at her.

And then she knew.

“No.” It came out in a breath. “No—no, Y/N, please—please tell me she made it. Please tell me she’s okay—”

Y/N sobbed. Shook her head. “They tried. She was just… she was too small.”

Wanda broke.

A sound tore from her throat—sharp, stunned, animalistic. Her whole body folded inward, curling like she was trying to disappear.

Y/N wrapped her arms around her as tightly as she could without hurting her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Wanda clutched her as if she were drowning. “She was ours.”

“She still is,” Y/N whispered into her hair. “She’ll always be ours.”

And they sat there in the quiet, wrapped in the gravity of what had been taken from them.

Two mothers.

One empty space where their daughter should have been.

---

After that night, Wanda stopped talking to Y/N.

Not fully, at least.

She answered when spoken to, but her eyes were distant, her smile gone. The warmth that used to fill the space between them was replaced with a heavy silence that neither dared to break.

Y/N tried.

She left little notes on the kitchen table. Made Wanda’s favorite tea just the way she liked it. Caught her hand gently whenever they passed in the hallway. Tried to slip her an extra kiss before sleep.

But Wanda’s walls only grew higher.

One evening, Y/N sat beside her on the couch, reaching for her hand.

“Wanda…” she whispered.

Wanda pulled back, shaking her head.

“I’m here,” Y/N said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

But Wanda didn’t say anything.

Just looked past her, eyes shimmering with tears she refused to shed.

---

Inside, Y/N’s heart was breaking.

Every day, she swallowed her own grief whole, packing it away behind a mask of strength.

She couldn’t let herself fall apart—not when Wanda was slipping away.

So she smiled when Wanda glanced her way, even though her chest ached.

She stayed quiet when Wanda needed space, even though the silence crushed her.

She held Wanda close at night, whispering, “I’m here,” over and over, even if the words felt hollow.

And every morning, when Wanda woke still cold and closed off, Y/N reminded herself to be patient.

To be the anchor.

To be the love they both needed.

Even if Wanda couldn’t see it yet.

But the distance grew.

And Y/N wondered how long she could hold it all together before she cracked too.

---

Wanda stopped being quiet.

The silence didn’t last.

It turned into something sharp.

Anger.

It started small—snapped words, heavy sighs when Y/N spoke. Then it grew. Louder. Unavoidable.

“You don’t get it,” Wanda spat one afternoon after Y/N gently suggested they go outside for fresh air. “You weren’t the one carrying her.”

Y/N flinched.

“I know I wasn’t,” she said softly. “But she was still my daughter, Wanda.”

Wanda turned away.

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one drowning?” she muttered, almost too low to hear.

Y/N didn’t reply.

She didn’t say that she was drowning—just quieter. Deeper. In silence.

---

It kept happening.

Wanda lashed out in small, sudden bursts.

When Y/N left the groceries in the wrong place. When she folded the baby blanket Wanda had left on the couch. When she touched Wanda’s back too gently, too lovingly.

“Don’t act like everything’s fine,” she hissed. “Don’t touch me like I’m okay.”

“I know you’re not,” Y/N whispered. “Neither am I.”

But Wanda didn’t seem to hear her.

Or maybe she just didn’t want to.

At night, Y/N still whispered, “I love you,” before bed.

But Wanda never answered.

And every morning, Y/N would wake up alone.

---

The nursery was quiet now.

The room they had painted together. The walls once lined with soft stuffed animals and folded baby clothes. The name still hung above the crib.

Some nights, Y/N would find Wanda curled up on the floor in there.

Other nights, she was in the rocking chair, blanket pulled up to her chin, eyes puffy from crying.

She never looked at Y/N when she walked in.

She never asked for help.

And Y/N never said a word—just quietly covered her with another blanket, kissed her hair, and whispered, “I love you,” to someone already too far away to hear it.

Then she’d leave the room and close the door gently behind her.

And go back to bed.

Alone.

---

Grief changes people.

But Wanda didn’t just change.

She hardened.

Whatever soft place in her that used to belong to Y/N—the part that used to smile at her across the breakfast table, or hum while brushing her hair—was gone now.

Wanda became sharp edges.

And Y/N walked barefoot through every one of them.

---

“I can’t even look at you some days,” Wanda muttered one night as she passed Y/N in the hallway, her shoulder brushing roughly against her as she walked away.

Y/N froze in place. “What?”

Wanda turned, voice cold. “You get to just keep being. Keep breathing. Keep sleeping. You still eat. You still shower. You still walk around like you’re okay.”

“I’m not,” Y/N said quietly. “You think I’m okay? You think I don’t cry every time I step into that nursery?”

“Then why don’t I see it?” Wanda snapped. “Why don’t you feel like you’ve lost anything?”

Y/N took a step back, breath shaking. “Because I’m trying to hold us together.”

“Us?” Wanda laughed bitterly. “There’s no us anymore.”

Y/N’s heart cracked.

But she didn’t fight back.

She never did.

---

Some days, Wanda wouldn’t speak to her at all. Other days, she’d throw barbed words like knives.

“You didn’t carry her. You don’t understand. You didn’t feel her kick at night. You didn’t get your body ripped apart for nothing.”

Y/N would just stand there. Swallow hard. Nodding like she deserved it.

One night, after she brought Wanda dinner—softly cooked vegetables and rice, untouched—Wanda stood in the doorway of the nursery and said, without looking:

“Stop pretending you’re grieving. It’s pathetic.”

That one hit too hard.

Y/N dropped the plate.

It shattered against the floor.

And for the first time, she said nothing at all. She just cleaned it up silently while Wanda sat down in the nursery’s rocking chair and stared at the crib like it might still hold a heartbeat.

---

Y/N cried in the shower most nights. Water hot enough to burn. Hand pressed against the tile just to stay upright.

She missed her daughter.

She missed her wife more.

But she didn’t leave.

Even as Wanda kept pushing.

Even as the “I love you”s went unanswered.

Even as she found herself whispering them now from the other side of the closed nursery door.

---

Four Months Later

It had been four months since they lost the baby.

Four months since Wanda had spoken to Y/N with real warmth.

Four months since Y/N had heard Wanda laugh, or reach for her, or say “I love you” back.

In those months, Y/N gave up everything except Wanda.

She stopped going into the office. Told her team she needed time, and when the time stretched on, she just kept working from home—silent, exhausted, going through the motions with the same quiet determination she’d used to survive those endless nights in the hospital.

She cooked. Cleaned. Sat with Wanda even when Wanda wouldn’t speak. Listened when she did—and let every cruel word wash over her like she deserved it.

She held the space around Wanda like a shell—strong, unmoving, unfeeling on the outside.

But something inside her had been bleeding too.

And no one had noticed.

Until today.

Y/N had to go in—just for a few hours. A meeting she couldn’t reschedule. So she called Natalya.

Wanda’s mother had checked in now and then over the past months—gentle calls, awkward texts—but never stayed long. Wanda didn’t want her hovering. She didn’t want anyone.

But Y/N couldn’t leave her alone today.

So she asked.

And Natalya said yes without hesitation.

When the door opened, Natalya was met with a sight she wasn’t prepared for.

Y/N stood there in slacks and a blouse that hung too loosely on her frame. Her collarbone was sharper. Her jaw more hollow. Her skin was pale—washed out like a photograph left in the sun. The circles under her eyes were deep, bruised, and heavy.

But it was her eyes that hit Natalya hardest.

They were black. Not literally—but dark, dull, empty. Like someone had reached into her chest and snuffed out the light.

Natalya froze in the doorway.

“Y/N…” she breathed. “You…”

Y/N forced a tired smile. “Thanks for coming. She’s still in bed. She’s had a rough morning.”

Natalya stepped inside slowly, taking in the quiet house. How clean it was. How untouched the living room felt. No signs of life. No warmth.

“Have you eaten?” she asked gently.

Y/N didn’t answer at first. She just reached for her coat. “There’s soup on the stove if she gets hungry. She probably won’t. But… just in case.”

Natalya’s eyes welled up.

Y/N was halfway to the door when Natalya reached for her wrist, stopping her.

“Y/N.”

She turned.

And for the first time in four months, someone looked at her with something that wasn’t pity or avoidance.

It was recognition.

Natalya’s voice broke. “You’re not okay.”

Y/N blinked, lips parting.

“I’m managing,” she whispered.

“You’re not.” Natalya’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Sweetheart, look at you.”

Y/N looked away.

“If you keep carrying both of you like this,” Natalya continued softly, “there won’t be anything left of you.”

Y/N’s shoulders sagged. Her throat tightened.

But she nodded.

“I know.”

And then she left—quietly, gently—because there was still a day to get through, and someone had to keep moving.

The door clicked shut behind Y/N, leaving the house in a suffocating kind of silence.

Natalya stood still for a moment, hand pressed lightly to her chest.

She hadn’t expected this.

Not the hollow version of Y/N. Not the echoing emptiness of the house. Not the scent of untouched food, or the slight chill in the air from a window left cracked open in a room no one wanted to be in.

Natalya moved quietly through the hallway, stopping in front of the bedroom door.

She hadn’t seen Wanda in weeks—texts ignored, calls left unanswered. And now, after seeing the hollowed version of Y/N standing in that doorway… she knew something was deeply wrong. More than she had realized.

She knocked gently. “Wanda? Sweetheart, it’s Mama.”

No response.

She opened the door softly.

The room was dim, curtains closed, air still and heavy. Wanda lay curled up on her side in the same bed where she and Y/N used to fall asleep laughing.

Now she looked like a ghost—sunken eyes, lips chapped, skin pale against the dark sheets.

Natalya’s heart cracked.

“Hi, moya lyubov’,” she whispered, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. “I came to check on you.”

Wanda didn’t say anything. Just turned her face further into the pillow, a quiet signal: I’m still here, but barely.

Natalya reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear. “Have you eaten anything today?”

No reply.

“I brought some soup,” she said softly. “Why don’t you try a little? It’s still warm.”

Still no response.

But when Natalya stood and returned with the bowl of soup Y/N had made—still sitting on the stove, untouched—she placed it on Wanda’s nightstand and waited.

Wanda didn’t move for a while. But then, without a word, she slowly pushed herself up, sitting hunched against the headboard. Her hands trembled as she reached for the spoon, and for a moment, Natalya wasn’t sure she’d even go through with it.

But she did.

One small bite.

Then another.

And another.

Wanda’s brow furrowed slightly as she chewed. She didn’t look at her mother—just stared blankly ahead.

“This tastes… different,” she muttered after a few spoonfuls. “Did you change something?”

Natalya hesitated. Then said softly, “I didn’t make it.”

Wanda blinked. Looked at her, slow and tired. “Then who did?”

“Y/N,” Natalya said. “She made it before she left for work. She was worried you wouldn’t eat if no one was here.”

Wanda froze.

The spoon hovered in the air, suddenly too heavy.

Natalya watched her daughter carefully. “She asked me to stay with you because she didn’t want you to be alone today.”

“She shouldn’t have,” Wanda murmured, setting the spoon back in the bowl. Her voice was hollow again. “She doesn’t have to keep pretending.”

Natalya’s jaw tensed gently, but her voice remained calm. “She’s not pretending, Wanda. She’s surviving. The same way you are. Only… she’s doing it with no one to hold her.”

Wanda looked away. Her expression flickered—somewhere between guilt and something deeper. Shame.

“I didn’t ask her to stay,” she whispered.

“I know,” Natalya said. “But she stayed anyway.”

“She’s not the one who carried her.”

“No,” Natalya said gently. “But she was still her mother, Wanda. And she loved her, too. Loves you. Still.”

Wanda’s throat tightened. Her eyes shone, but she blinked quickly, forcing them dry.

“You didn’t see her this morning,” Natalya added softly. “She’s… she’s not the same girl I remember. She’s fading, Wanda.”

Wanda didn’t speak.

“She made you soup,” Natalya continued. “Even with nothing left in her. She made you soup and kissed your forehead while you were sleeping, and told me to please, please make sure you didn’t feel alone.”

Wanda’s lips parted, but no words came out.

Just a shaky breath.

And then, barely a whisper: “I don’t know how to reach her anymore.”

Natalya touched her cheek, thumb soft against her skin. “You don’t have to have the right words, Wanda. You just have to try.”

Wanda’s breath trembled.

“She still looks at you like you hung the stars,” Natalya added gently. “Even today. Even after all of this.”

Wanda’s eyes fell to the half-eaten bowl of soup.

She’d been so sure it was her mother’s—there was something softer in the flavor, something careful. It had tasted… warm. Familiar. Safe.

And yet it came from her.

The woman she’d spent four months pushing away.

The woman who still made her soup when she had nothing left of herself.

Wanda reached for the spoon again but set it back down, her appetite fading into guilt.

“I’ve been awful,” she said quietly.

Natalya didn’t argue.

She simply reached for her daughter’s hand and held it, warm and steady.

She didn’t fill the silence. She didn’t try to fix it. She just listened.

And Wanda, fragile and slow, began to speak.

“I think I hate her sometimes,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “And I hate myself even more for feeling that way.”

Natalya’s thumb brushed gently across her knuckles. But she said nothing, waiting.

“She looks at me like she’s still in love with me,” Wanda went on, breath uneven, “and all I can feel is this… this giant, empty, burning hole inside me that keeps screaming, You’re alone. You lost her. You failed.”

Her lip trembled.

“She didn’t carry her. She didn’t feel her grow. She didn’t… know her like I did.”

Natalya’s brows softened.

Wanda’s voice broke. “So when she grieves, it doesn’t look like mine. And I can’t help thinking… maybe it’s because she didn’t know what we lost the same way I did.”

She let out a shaky breath and looked away. “I know that’s cruel. I know that. But it’s how I feel. And every time she says something kind or brings me soup or tries to be strong, I just—” Wanda squeezed her eyes shut—“I want to scream. Because it feels like she’s moved on. And I’m still stuck back there. Still bleeding.”

Natalya’s heart ached.

She reached up and gently cupped her daughter’s face, guiding her to meet her eyes.

“Oh, Wanda,” she murmured. “You may have carried your daughter in your body… but Y/N? She carried her in her heart. From the moment you told her you were pregnant.”

Wanda’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t speak.

“She grieves differently because she has to. Because you couldn’t afford to fall apart, so she did it in private. Quietly. In the shower. In the laundry room. In her silence.”

Wanda’s chest heaved.

“She stayed when you pushed. She cooked when you couldn’t eat. She sat outside this door for hours, Wanda. Hoping for any sign you were still in there.”

Tears began spilling down Wanda’s cheeks.

“She didn’t just lose her daughter,” Natalya whispered. “She’s been losing you, too.”

Wanda broke then—gasping softly, hands covering her face as the sobs finally came.

Natalya pulled her into her arms, holding her the way she used to when Wanda was small and scared of thunder.

“I didn’t know,” Wanda cried into her shoulder. “I didn’t know I was hurting her.”

“I know, baby,” Natalya whispered. “But now you do.”

Wanda’s sobs had softened into silence.

Natalya didn’t let go—just rubbed her back, quiet and patient, while Wanda slowly unraveled in her arms.

When Wanda finally pulled back, her eyes were red, lashes damp, and her voice small.

“Does she really cry where I can’t see?”

Natalya gave her a tired, aching smile. “She does everything where you can’t see. And not because she wants to hide it. She just didn’t want to add to your pain.”

Wanda looked down at her hands, ashamed. “I didn’t notice. I didn’t want to.”

“But you’re seeing her now,” Natalya said. “That’s the beginning.”

Wanda nodded faintly. Then whispered, “Do you want some tea?”

Natalya smiled. “Only if you’ll drink some too.”

---

Later That Evening

Wanda sat on the couch beside her mother, a cup of tea warming her hands.

The living room felt foreign in its calmness. Like it didn’t quite belong to her anymore. So much of the house had turned into a museum of absence—quiet, still, sacred in the wrong ways.

She sipped the tea slowly, grateful for the silence that wasn’t crushing for once.

That’s when the door opened.

Wanda’s head turned instinctively.

And she saw her.

Y/N stepped inside like a ghost.

Her movements were slow, mechanical—like her body had forgotten how to move with purpose. Her eyes were dull, skin colorless under the hallway light. Her bag slipped off her shoulder with a soft thud, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Wanda froze.

She had looked at Y/N every day.

But this was the first time she’d truly seen her in weeks.

And it felt like being struck.

Y/N wasn’t just tired. She wasn’t just grieving.

She was gone in places Wanda hadn’t been looking.

A shell of the woman who used to light up every room. The woman who danced barefoot in the kitchen. Who kissed her forehead while she chopped vegetables. Who once held Wanda through every ache of pregnancy like she’d been made for it.

She hadn’t stopped loving Wanda.

She’d just been slowly disappearing under the weight of being invisible.

Y/N didn’t even glance toward the living room.

She walked straight down the hallway like it hurt to exist, her body stiff and silent.

Wanda felt her tea go cold in her hands.

Her mother didn’t speak.

She didn’t need to.

Wanda stood up slowly.

And for the first time in four months… she followed.

The hallway was dim, save for the sliver of light pouring out from beneath the bathroom door.

Wanda hesitated before stepping closer, her bare feet soundless against the wood floor. She could hear the soft trickle of running water. Nothing else.

No movement. No voice. Just… water.

She knocked gently.

No answer.

Her hand trembled as she turned the doorknob.

The door creaked open.

And there, standing over the sink, was Y/N.

Frozen.

Her hands rested on either side of the basin, white-knuckled. Her shoulders were hunched, head bowed, water still running in front of her.

Her shirt clung to her back—damp where she’d splashed her face but hadn’t yet bothered to dry it. Her body was still, her breath uneven. She looked like she was holding herself together by sheer force of will.

She didn’t see Wanda at first.

She just stared into the water.

Not moving.

Like if she stood there long enough, it might carry her away.

Wanda’s chest tightened.

This wasn’t strength.

This wasn’t “managing.”

This was someone who had broken so quietly, no one noticed the pieces.

Then Y/N finally looked up.

Their eyes met in the mirror.

For the briefest second, Wanda saw the truth—raw, hollow, exhausted pain.

Then it vanished.

Y/N turned off the faucet, wiped her face quickly with her sleeve, and turned to Wanda with a smile.

But it wasn’t a real smile.

Wanda had never seen it before.

It was the kind of smile worn like armor—a shape pulled onto a face because it was easier than saying I’m not okay.

“Hey,” Y/N said, voice light, too light. “You hungry? I’ll just take a quick shower and cook something.”

She didn’t wait for a reply.

She moved past Wanda like nothing had happened—like she hadn’t just been standing there trying not to shatter.

Wanda reached out instinctively, catching her wrist. Gently.

“Y/N.”

Y/N froze.

That smile slipped. Cracked at the corners.

Wanda stepped closer.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Y/N’s throat worked around a swallow. “Do what?”

“Pretend.”

The silence stretched.

Y/N blinked rapidly, glancing down at Wanda’s hand around her wrist, as if unsure how it got there.

Then she forced another smile—smaller this time. “I’m fine, Wands. Really.”

“You’re not,” Wanda said softly. “And I see it now.”

Y/N looked away. Her breath caught in her throat, but she kept her jaw tight, her spine straight.

Wanda stepped closer. Gentle. Careful. Like approaching a wounded animal.

“I haven’t looked at you in months,” she whispered, voice trembling. “But tonight I did. And I see it. I see you. And I’m so sorry.”

The words hung in the air like something sacred. Heavy. Breaking the silence that had ruled their home for far too long.

But in Y/N’s mind, they floated past like mist.

Because it didn’t matter.

Not really.

She wasn’t the one who needed saving.

Wanda was.

Wanda had lost her dreams, the child that grew inside her.

Y/N? Y/N was just the support beam. Cracked, bent, tired—but still standing. That was the job.

She had no room for grief.

No right to fall apart.

So she swallowed the knot in her throat.

And in her mind, a voice she’d been living with for months whispered the truth:

You’re not the priority.

She is.

You’re just here to keep her breathing.

Y/N forced a nod, not trusting herself to speak.

Then she said quietly, “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize.”

Wanda’s brows pulled together. “Yes, I do.”

Y/N gave her a small smile—one that barely reached her lips. “You were hurting. I understand.”

Wanda reached up to touch her face, and for a split second, Y/N flinched—not out of fear, but out of habit. As if she’d forgotten she was allowed to be held, too.

Her body stiffened, like it didn’t know what to do with tenderness anymore.

“Y/N,” Wanda said, more firmly now, her hand still hovering near her cheek. “You’re allowed to hurt.”

Y/N’s eyes dropped to the floor. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “No. You lost more.”

Wanda’s heart splintered.

“You were her mother too.”

“But not like you,” Y/N said quickly, eyes shining. “She was part of you. She… left you.”

Wanda stepped forward, closing the space between them. Her hand finally rested gently on Y/N’s cheek.

“She left us,” Wanda said. “And I left you, too. I know that. I abandoned you while you were breaking just as much as I was.”

Y/N tried to shake her head, but her body betrayed her—shoulders trembling.

Still she insisted, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re okay. That you’re—”

“I’m not okay,” Wanda whispered. “And neither are you.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath. Her hands stayed at her sides. Her body didn’t lean in. It didn’t fall into Wanda like it used to.

Because after four months of being invisible, of pushing her own grief into silence, she didn’t know how.

Didn’t know if she deserved to.

Y/N didn’t move.

Didn’t lean into Wanda’s touch. Didn’t brush her fingers against hers like she used to. Her hands hung at her sides like they didn’t belong to her anymore.

Wanda’s palm was warm on her cheek, but Y/N didn’t melt into it.

She endured it.

And that… that’s when Wanda saw it.

Really saw it.

Y/N hadn’t just been grieving alone.

She had been disappearing.

The quiet dimming of someone who didn’t believe she was worth being cared for anymore.

The slouched shoulders of someone who’d been bracing herself to be unwanted.

The forced smile of someone who had decided that her pain wasn’t important enough to be spoken aloud.

Y/N looked so much smaller than Wanda remembered. Thinner. Paler. Eyes duller. Her voice, quieter—not out of gentleness, but out of hesitation.

And Wanda realized, with a crushing wave of guilt, that this wasn’t just the loss of their baby.

This was what she had done.

Every time she turned away.

Every time she said nothing.

Every time she chose her pain and forgot that Y/N had been bleeding, too.

She didn’t just abandon her wife.

She made her believe she had no right to fall apart.

Y/N still stood in front of her—but she was far away, trapped behind months of careful survival, of selfless silence.

And Wanda’s touch, once a safe place, now felt unfamiliar to her.

That was the worst part.

The realization made Wanda’s chest cave in. She choked on a sob she didn’t mean to release and stepped even closer, her thumb trembling against Y/N’s cheek.

“I didn’t see,” Wanda whispered brokenly. “God, Y/N, I didn’t see what I was doing to you.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed. “It’s not about me.”

“It was always about you too,” Wanda breathed. “But I was too wrapped in my own pain to remember that. You were here, carrying everything, and I never even asked if you were okay.”

Y/N gave a weak laugh. “You had enough to deal with.”

Wanda shook her head. “No. No more of that. Stop—please stop pretending that your grief doesn’t matter. That you don’t matter.”

She stepped back just enough to really look at her.

“You stopped smiling. You don’t sing anymore. You don’t sleep. You hardly eat unless I’m unconscious. I—I made you believe you had to be invisible so I could survive.”

Y/N looked at her, eyes wet but unreadable.

Wanda’s voice cracked. “I hurt you.”

Silence.

Then, Y/N whispered, “I knew you needed time.”

“But I needed you,” Wanda cried. “And I didn’t realize I was pushing you out of reach. And now I see you standing here like this—like you don’t even know how to be held anymore—and I don’t know how to forgive myself for that.”

Y/N’s lip trembled. Her breath hitched. But still, she said nothing.

And Wanda realized something else.

Her wife wasn’t just grieving.

She had stopped believing she deserved to be comforted.

Y/N’s eyes were wide, glassy, but distant. She didn’t cry. Didn’t tremble.

She just stood there—quiet in the way people get when they’ve been hurting for too long and stopped believing anyone would notice.

So Wanda stepped forward.

And held her.

Not delicately.

Not like she might shatter—but like someone who already had.

Wanda wrapped her arms around Y/N’s shoulders, buried her face in her neck, and clung to her like a lifeline.

For a long, breathless second, Y/N didn’t move.

Her arms stayed at her sides. Her breath stayed shallow.

It felt like hugging something already gone.

But Wanda didn’t let go.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “Please… let me love you.”

Then—barely audible, barely real—Y/N breathed out, “I’m sorry.”

Her voice cracked around it.

“I’m sorry, Wanda.”

And suddenly her body broke.

She sagged into Wanda’s arms, her knees giving out beneath her, and Wanda caught her as they sank to the cold bathroom floor together.

Y/N sobbed—violently, helplessly—hands clinging to Wanda’s shirt, fingers curled in the fabric like it was the only thing anchoring her to this world.

“I tried,” she gasped. “I didn’t want to make it worse—I just wanted to be strong for you—I didn’t know how else to—”

“Shh,” Wanda whispered, cradling her head against her chest. “Stop apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t.”

Y/N shook her head, burying her face against Wanda’s shoulder, still choking on apologies.

“I couldn’t fix it—I couldn’t save her—I couldn’t save you—”

Wanda kissed the side of her head, rocking them gently. “You saved me every day, Y/N. You saved me by staying. Even when I was gone. Even when I hurt you.”

“I didn’t know if I mattered anymore,” Y/N sobbed, the words tumbling out unfiltered, years of strength unraveling all at once. “I didn’t know if you saw me anymore.”

Wanda held her tighter, like she could stitch them back together with just the strength of her arms. “I see you now. I swear to you—I see everything now.”

And she just held her. Let her cry. Let her be small for once. Let her fall apart the way she had needed to for months.

On the cold tile floor, with nothing but the quiet hum of the house and the smell of Y/N’s damp shirt between them, they grieved together for the first time.

No roles.

No guilt.

Just them.

Two women who lost everything.

And still—somehow—found their way back to each other.

---

By the time Y/N’s sobs finally quieted, she was trembling and barely upright, her body drained of everything.

Her breath came in little hiccups, eyes swollen nearly shut, lashes stuck together with tears.

Wanda hadn’t moved.

She held her through every wave, every gasp, every broken apology until the storm finally gave way to silence.

Y/N sat slumped against her, cheek resting over Wanda’s heartbeat, her fingers still clutching the fabric of her shirt.

Wanda kissed the top of her head.

“We can stay here as long as you need,” she whispered.

Y/N shook her head faintly. “No… I can’t… I just—I need to breathe.”

Wanda helped her up slowly, carefully, her own limbs aching from the cold tile. She kept one arm around Y/N’s waist as they stepped out of the bathroom, moving like a single body held together by care alone.

The house was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the lamp in the living room.

And there—waiting on the couch, quiet and patient—was Natalya.

A tray rested on the coffee table. Two mugs of tea, still warm. A folded blanket.

She stood the moment she saw them.

Wanda didn’t speak. Just gave her mother a small, tired nod.

But Y/N froze halfway across the room, eyes wide with guilt.

Her throat tightened again. She rubbed at her face, as if trying to erase the evidence of her breakdown.

“I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely, voice barely a whisper. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t,” Natalya said softly, stepping forward.

Y/N opened her mouth to say more, but Natalya pulled her into a hug before she could.

Tight. Warm. Maternal.

“I heard you crying,” Natalya said into her hair, “and I still think you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

Y/N’s chin quivered, but she didn’t cry again. There were no more tears left.

Only a quiet kind of grief.

The kind that clings like fog.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Natalya added gently, pulling back just enough to see her. “You loved that baby. You loved my daughter. You never needed to be perfect for either of them.”

Y/N gave a small, shaky nod.

Wanda stepped forward then, touching her back gently, grounding her.

“Come sit,” Natalya said. “I made tea.”

Y/N hesitated—but Wanda led her to the couch, guiding her down slowly.

They sat together, close, Wanda still keeping a hand on Y/N’s knee.

Natalya placed the tea in her hands. “Drink. You’ll feel better.”

Y/N nodded again.

And for the first time in months, someone else held the weight she didn’t know she was carrying.

---

They didn’t speak much after the tea.

Y/N was exhausted—physically, emotionally, spiritually.

The kind of exhaustion that seeps into the bones and makes words feel too heavy to lift.

So when Wanda gently suggested they go to bed, Y/N simply nodded and followed.

Their bedroom was quiet. The sheets still carried the shape of months of separation—Y/N curled at the edge, Wanda lost in the middle. The absence between them had stretched wide.

But not tonight.

Tonight, Wanda didn’t hesitate.

She slipped into bed and reached for Y/N.

Y/N paused only briefly, eyes flicking to her in the dark like she couldn’t quite believe it.

Then, wordlessly, she curled into her.

It was awkward at first—her body didn’t melt into it the way it once did. She was stiff, unsure, like she’d forgotten how to be held.

But Wanda didn’t let go.

She pulled Y/N in gently but firmly, until her head rested on Wanda’s chest and their legs tangled the way they used to.

Wanda’s arms wrapped around her with the care of someone handling something already broken.

And for the first time in months…

They slept in the same shape.

Y/N was out within minutes, her breath hitching now and then as the last of the tears wore off, but eventually settling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Wanda didn’t sleep right away.

She stayed awake in the dark, holding her wife close, and let her eyes adjust to the soft shadows.

That’s when she saw it—really saw her.

Y/N had always been strong. Capable. Warm. Hers.

But tonight…

She was thinner than Wanda remembered. Her cheeks slightly sunken. Her collarbones sharper. The way her back curled into her chest didn’t feel like safety—it felt like retreat.

And her skin—so pale. Was it always like that? Or had the light left her over time, bit by bit, while Wanda was too far away to notice?

Wanda’s throat burned.

She blinked back tears, brushing her fingers gently over Y/N’s arm, her ribs, the curve of her waist.

How had she missed it?

How had she let her wife fade into the background while drowning in her own pain?

Y/N had carried both of their weight in silence.

She had stayed.

She had waited.

And now, lying here, fragile and asleep in her arms, she looked like someone who had given everything away just to keep Wanda breathing.

Wanda leaned down, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and whispered into her hair:

“I see you now. I promise I won’t look away again.”

And as Y/N slept, for the first time, Wanda didn’t think about what they’d lost.

She thought about what she still had.

And what she would do to never lose her again.

---

Wanda woke to cold sheets.

Her arms reached out instinctively, searching for warmth that wasn’t there. Her hand brushed only the worn softness of linen.

Her stomach sank.

The panic came before reason—not again, please not again.

She sat up quickly, breath catching in her throat. “Y/N?”

No answer.

She shoved the blankets back and got out of bed, barefoot, chest already tightening as she hurried down the hallway, calling again, quieter this time. “Y/N?”

She rounded the corner into the kitchen.

And froze.

Y/N stood there with her back half-turned, tank top hanging a little loose on her body, the soft cotton clinging just enough to show how much weight she’d lost. The sweatpants hung low on her hips, tied tighter than they used to be. Her frame looked too small for her clothes—familiar things now draped over unfamiliar frailty.

She had a plate in her hand. A folded napkin on top. Two slices of toast. Scrambled eggs. A few strawberries, cut the way Wanda liked them.

She was just about to reach for the tray.

To bring it upstairs.

Like she had, every single day, for the past four months.

Wanda stood frozen in the doorway, watching her wife quietly go through a routine no one had asked for—but one she had done anyway.

Y/N turned slightly and saw her standing there.

She startled. Just a bit. Caught in the act.

Their eyes met.

It was awkward. Gentle, but unfamiliar.

“Hey,” Y/N said softly, voice still raspy from sleep. “You’re… up early.”

She glanced down at the plate, then gave a tiny, awkward shrug. “I was just gonna bring this to you. Like usual.”

Wanda didn’t respond at first. Her heart was caught somewhere in her throat.

Y/N fidgeted, clearly unsure, her eyes flickering down. “It’s nothing fancy. I didn’t know if you’d want it, but… I made something. You haven’t really eaten in a while.”

She said it gently. Without blame. Without expectation.

Just quietly. Out of love.

Wanda’s voice shook when she finally spoke. “I panicked.”

Y/N blinked, confused. “What?”

“When I woke up and you weren’t there,” Wanda whispered, stepping closer, “I thought something happened. I thought maybe last night didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me.”

Y/N’s face changed instantly—softening into something vulnerable. “Wanda… no. I just didn’t want to wake you. You finally slept. I thought I’d bring breakfast, like always.”

Wanda’s gaze dropped to the tray. Then to the sharp line of Y/N’s collarbone, the way the tank top hung too loosely from her shoulders. How her arms looked thinner now, like they’d carried too much weight for too long.

“You were still taking care of me,” Wanda whispered.

Y/N didn’t respond. She just looked down, a little ashamed.

“Even while I ignored you.”

“Because I love you,” Y/N said, quietly but firmly.

Wanda didn’t hesitate.

She crossed the space between them and wrapped her arms around Y/N’s neck—soft but certain, like anchoring herself to the only thing that had never let go, even when she had.

And Y/N held her.

Without question.

Her arms came around Wanda’s waist, a little too loose at first—like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed.

But Wanda leaned in fully, resting her cheek against Y/N’s shoulder, and whispered, “Please.”

That was all it took.

Y/N’s grip tightened.

She held Wanda like she’d been waiting for this—aching for it. Like her body remembered something her heart had stopped hoping for. Her arms locked around her wife’s back, pulling her close, grounding them both.

“I’ve missed you,” Wanda whispered.

“I never left,” Y/N murmured.

“I know. That’s what hurts.”

They stood there in the kitchen, tangled up in each other, Wanda’s arms around Y/N’s neck, Y/N holding her like something precious—something breakable, but not broken.

And for the first time in a long time, their silence didn’t feel heavy.

It felt like healing.

Y/N’s arms were still around her, warm and strong despite the way her body had withered with grief. And Wanda stayed there, tucked into the curve of her wife’s neck, where everything still felt familiar—safe, even now.

She hadn’t realized how much she missed being held like this.

Not just the comfort of touch…

…but this.

Being loved.

Being known.

And knowing she still mattered enough to be reached for.

Wanda’s fingers curled gently into the back of Y/N’s tank top, and her eyes stung again—not with grief this time, but with something she hadn’t felt in far too long.

Tenderness.

“I don’t know why I couldn’t say it,” Wanda whispered, voice raw against Y/N’s skin. “Maybe I was scared. Maybe I didn’t think I deserved you anymore.”

Y/N’s hand smoothed up her back. “You don’t have to explain. I didn’t need—”

“Yes, you did,” Wanda breathed. She pulled back just enough to see her face, her hand rising to cup Y/N’s cheek. “You needed to hear it.”

Y/N’s eyes searched hers, unsure.

So Wanda said it.

Finally.

Gently. Honestly.

“I love you too.”

The words fell quiet, but they landed with weight—real and grounding.

Y/N blinked fast, her jaw trembling again.

“Wanda…”

“I always did,” Wanda said, thumb brushing softly beneath her wife’s swollen eyes. “Even when I forgot how to feel anything, I still loved you. You never stopped being my heart.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, something inside her visibly releasing.

Not the grief. Not all the pain.

But the fear.

The fear that she had been forgotten. Replaced. Or worse—unloved.

And now, here it was.

“I love you too.”

It settled in the space between them like light returning to a long-dark room.

Y/N pulled her into another embrace—this time stronger, fuller, like she finally believed she could.

And Wanda held her just as tightly.

Together. Finally.

---

Two Years Later

The late afternoon sun poured golden light into the nursery, casting soft shadows across the walls where little stars had been hand-painted long before he arrived.

Wanda stood near the window, gently swaying with their baby boy in her arms. He was bundled tightly in a pale green blanket, no more than two days old, his tiny face relaxed in sleep, mouth twitching now and then with a dream he couldn’t yet understand.

She looked down at him with a love so vast, so fierce, it filled her chest like oxygen.

Then she felt arms wrap around her waist from behind.

Y/N.

Barefoot, warm, steady—pressing in softly until her chest touched Wanda’s back, her chin resting on Wanda’s shoulder.

Wanda leaned into her without hesitation, the way her body always had. The ease of it, after everything, still made her breath catch.

“Hey,” Y/N whispered, kissing her shoulder. “How’s our little man?”

“Still dreaming,” Wanda said, smiling. “He hasn’t let go of my finger once.”

Y/N smiled too, peeking over her shoulder at the small bundle cradled so perfectly in Wanda’s arms. “Smart kid. Knows exactly where he belongs.”

Wanda’s eyes shimmered, full of quiet wonder. “He looks like you when he sleeps.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “Poor thing.”

Wanda elbowed her gently, and Y/N kissed her temple in apology.

The room was quiet for a while—only the hush of the breeze through the open window and the sound of their child’s tiny breaths. Peaceful in a way neither of them had truly known in years.

Wanda broke the silence with a whisper. “I never thought we’d get here.”

Y/N tightened her arms around her. “I know.”

There was a pause.

Then Wanda added, even softer, “But I never stopped wanting to.”

She turned slightly in Y/N’s embrace, just enough to see her—really see her.

And for a moment, she forgot to breathe.

Y/N looked… whole again.

Her color had returned. The shadows beneath her eyes were long gone. Her body, once thin and trembling from quiet collapse, had filled out again—her strength returned, her muscles firm beneath the fitted tank she wore. Her eyes, warm and steady, sparkled with life.

Wanda reached up with her free hand and touched her cheek, smiling.

“You came back to me,” she whispered.

“I never left,” Y/N said gently.

But before Wanda could reply, a small sound rose between them.

Yawwnn.

Their baby stirred in her arms, stretching his tiny fingers with a big, sleepy yawn that scrunched his whole face.

Both of them stilled.

Then melted.

“Oh my god,” Wanda whispered with a teary laugh, clutching him closer. “Did you see that?”

“I think my heart just exploded,” Y/N murmured, leaning down to kiss the crown of their son’s head. “Okay, Eli. You’re gonna have to tone down the cuteness if you want your parents to survive.”

Elian Maximoff-L/N.

Eli, for short.

The name they chose together, months ago—after a quiet evening under the stars where they’d promised never to stop hoping.

And now he was here.

Real.

Safe.

Home.

Wanda smiled so hard her cheeks ached. Y/N buried her face in her hair, arms tightening protectively around both of them.

Their son gave a sleepy sigh and snuggled deeper into Wanda’s chest.

And in that moment—sunlight dancing across the walls, the soft weight of Eli in their arms, and each other held close—they both knew:

This was what healing looked like.

Not forgetting.

Not replacing.

But holding joy and grief in the same breath—and choosing love anyway.

---

Let me know your thoughts in the comment.

[woewriting]

turning point (g!p)

pairing: tara carpenter | reader summary: tara calls you to rescue her from a bad date and things take a surprising turn. word count: 3726 warnings: mdni, +18 only! no ghostface au, reader has a dick, friends with benefits (?), clothed sex, language, smut in general. a/n: will you guys believe if i say the date part was inspired by a terrible date my coworker had? because it was and @wesstars is the proof of it!

masterlist

When the 7th episode of season 4 of Stranger Things started you felt your phone vibrating somewhere in between the cozy blankets. As you blindly looked for it, eyes focused on the TV in front of your bed, you felt it vibrating once again, but this time more than once. 

Holding the phone in your hands, the name “tara” followed by a small heart emoji showed on the screen with 4 messages attached to it. Pausing the episode, you unlocked the device. 

tara ♥︎ can you come pick me up? please this is the worst date ever 😭

Sewing your eyebrows together, you were quick to reply, asking for her location. 

tara ♥︎ im at the motel near the campus, green valley or something chad is showering and i told him i’d take an uber home because i wasn't feeling well and didn’t want to stay anymore please come fast

Typing a simple “omw”, you grabbed your hoodie, throwing it over the white tank top you usually wore to sleep along with sweat shorts that easily became a second skin.

It was easy to spot the building as a gigantic green neon sign took over most of the illumination of the empty street. You parked in front of it, patiently waiting for your best-friend as you sent a message letting her know you arrived. The place seemed expensive and well cleaned, unlike most cheap motels that took over the right side of the street near the campus of your college, still, it didn't appetize you to walk in.

Soon, the younger Carpenter ran towards you, sighing in relief when she jumped into the car. 

“That bad, huh?” You asked with a laugh, setting the first gear ready to go back home. 

“You have no idea.” Tara whined, turning on the heat, complaining about how cold it was outside in a whisper. “I'll tell you everything when we get home.”

“I'm watching Stranger Things.” The focus on the road in front of you as you took a right turn didn't allow you to see the indignation expression on her face, more dramatic than it was necessary.

“Is Stranger Things more important than me?”

“I’m about to find out what happened at the Hawkins Lab…” You continued, trying to convince her of your cause, but her next words made you look at her with raised eyebrows, a convinced smile of someone who won drawing her lips.

“He has a small dick.”

“I'm all ears, princess.” 

The return home didn’t take more than 10 minutes, especially with empty roads and yellow sign lights. Tara started telling about her date from the second it started, which was 5PM, the exact time she started to get ready. Honestly, none of that was necessary to reach the part that it all went downhill, but you didn’t dare to interrupt, you paid attention to every word Tara was saying as you carefully parked your car in your designated spot.

The second the elevator stopped on your floor, Tara had finished telling you about the dinner part of her date. 

According to her, the food wasn't bad, but the place was crowded and the music playing was so annoying that it became a bit too much for her. It was already hard to pay attention to anything Chad was saying as the others' conversation was caught in the middle, stealing her attention, all she could was nod and smile, like one of the Penguins from Madagascar. 

You laughed at her indignation and the small wrinkle in between her eyebrows, opening the door and giving her space to walk in. Kicking your shoes away, the both of you automatically walked to the door at the end of the small hallway of your apartment, the episode 7 of Stranger Things’ last season still on pause when you sat on the bed being followed by Tara; Jamie Campbell’s beautiful blue eyes on the screen.

“... and after we got to the motel, things were heating up and his hands were on my ass and he kept pushing me against him and…” Tara stopped talking after noticing the disgusted expression on your face as you made yourself comfortable on the bed. The girl sat right by your side. “I will not spare any details.”

“I’m seriously considering automatically deleting every explicit part of it.” You retorted, shifting uncomfortably against the headboard.

Despite the years of friendship you and Tara had, from Junior High all the way to college — where you both were right now, nothing touchy ever happened between the two of you, not even a single, drunk kiss at parties. You two were close, of course, but not this close, and hearing the vulgar words easily slipping out of her mouth was creating a weird feeling inside your chest.

“I don’t care.” The girl rolled her eyes, moving closer to you. “Continuing, Chad is gentle, nice, and it feels good to be with him, but ugh… I couldn’t even feel anything when I was sitting on his lap.” You let out a small laugh, scratching your eyebrow. That wasn’t the first time Tara rambled about a bad date, but this was Chad, a common friend, and someone that the young Carpenter had a genuine interest in. At this point, that interest had disappeared into thin air. “And when he removed his pants, he had this military patch underwear and black socks on and it was a huge turn off.”

“Black socks really do sucks…”

“I know!” The exasperated way she agreed with you made you laugh, her hand resting near your knee. “Can you believe he didn’t want to take them off? He said he has cold feet.” Her face fell against your thigh, a tired sighing leaving her mouth, hot breath hitting your bate skin. “I should’ve ran when he said that.” Tara mumbled.

Your hand naturally rested on her head in a soft petting, “You really should have.”

The brunette moved a little, laying on her side with her cheek still resting on your leg to feel the soothing moves of your fingers on her hair. The new position gave her a small vision of what's beneath the thick fabric of your shorts, the hem of black boxers peeking through. She looked away, crimson color on her cheeks as she continued the events of the night.

“But, it’s Chad, so I decided to ignore that ridiculous sock and continue.” You nodded your head. “He removed that equally annoying underwear and I swear to God! It was smaller than my hand, and my hands aren’t that big! Look.” To prove her point, she held your other hand, measuring it with her own. She intertwined your fingers together after you agreed with her, resting them both on her chest. “But I was like… okay, it’s not big but maybe he can be good with his tongue.”

“Oh, God.” You choke, closing your eyes. “I will never be able to look at him again.”

“Imagine how I feel!” Tara whined. “But then I thought to myself, he’s a terrible kisser; if he doesn’t know how to use his tongue on my mouth, imagine how bad it’ll be when he use it on my pu—”

“Okay! Let’s not use those explicit words, please.” You interrupted her, shifting again. “But damn, is that guy good at anything?”

“He has a nice body… from the waist up.” This time neither of you could hold back the laugh, the delightful sound of her laughing mixed with yours filled the room for a couple minutes, your hand still playing with the soft strands that spread across your leg. “Chad is a nice guy, but… that’s not enough for me, you know? I crave touching, feeling something. And he was so small I would barely feel anything.” Tara cried out, covering her face with her free hand as the other still held yours against her chest.

“I’m not a sexual freak or anything but I agree, at least the kiss has to be good. So that’s when you messaged me?”

“I wish.” It was your turn to sigh loudly. “We kept going and when I asked him to wear protection, you won’t believe it…”

“He didn’t have any?”

“Oh, he did.” She bit her lower lip, hand still covering her eyes as the images played like a broken record behind her closed lids. “After that awkward moment where he put it on, he got soft.”

“Maybe it was too tight or something, that can be an annoying bother.” You tried defending your friend, but the girl denied with her head, pursing her lips together, deciding if she should say it or not, but after all the details she already had shared, this one wouldn’t matter either.

“It was loose. It was the smallest size and it still was big for him.”

“Jesus Christ. I am deleting every photo I have with him. I can’t bear looking him in the eyes after knowing all of that.” Once again, your laugh filled the bedroom, making Tara look at you with narrowed eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Is it me?” You tilted your head to the side in confusion. “Am I the problem?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe I’m a terrible kisser and that’s why it didn’t fit.” She explained, looking at you.”Do you think I’m hot?”

“Where did that come from?” 

“The deepest part of my curious brain.” Tara sat back up, resting her hand and yours on her thigh. “Now answer me, am I hot?”

“You are hot, Tara.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure the problem wasn’t you. Maybe he was just nervous to be with you, I don’t know.”

“That does make me the problem.” Her eyes never left yours, looking for a small sign of a lie that was never found; after all, you did find Tara hot. “Why did you never kiss me?” 

You let out a deep sigh. “Because we’re friends.”

“You kiss your friends. Amber, Mindy, and I’m sure you tried to kiss my sister once too.”

“Please, don’t bring that to the table.” The pinkish tone that colored your cheeks made the other smile. “And it’s different, they’re just friends, and you’re my best friend.”

Tara moved on the bed, sitting on her calves, still looking at you, and still holding your hand. 

“Kiss me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kiss me.”

You let out an awkward, breathy laugh, trying to pull your hand from hers and moving away just a bit, but the brunette was determined, you could see it in the dark brown eyes.

“Stop joking around, Carpenter.” You said one more time, her slender fingers tracing random patterns on your thigh with her free hand, feeling the goosebumps all over your skin, big bambi eyes staring at you. “Tara…”

“Please…” She cried out, the tip of her fingers trespassing the hem of your shorts, only a few centimeters away from your clothed cock. You could already feel it twitching inside your boxers just from those small touches. “I just wanna prove to myself that I can do it and that there’s nothing wrong with me. You, as my best friends, should help me with that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, I truthfully believe you can get someone hard.”

“Then why wasn’t he hard?”

“Maybe it was just a bad day or he was nervous, I don’t know.” You repeat what you said earlier, hoping that it was enough for the small girl. It clearly wasn't though.

“But we were having fun! He was sweet, polite, respectful, and paid for dinner and the motel, which was not cheap. It makes no sense!” She whined like a spoiled kid. Tara sat on your thighs, holding your face in her hands. “Lemme touch you. Please.”

“Can’t we just watch Stranger Things and forget about this terrible date?” You asked in hopes she would let that stupid idea go; she obviously didn’t. 

“We can, after we kiss.” Tara fixed herself on top of you, moving up. Your hands instantly grabbed her waist, before she could sit on your hips. “You know I won’t stop.”

“You’re like the donkey from Shrek.” You writhe under her.

“Please…”

“Dear Lord.” Your head fell back, hitting the soft headboard. “Why does it have to be me? And now?”

“Because you’re my best friend.” The girl shrugged. “Plus, you never let me see it.”

“I swear you have the strangest obsession with my dick.”

“I’m just curious about it.” Feeling the loosen on your grip, Tara moved slightly up, sitting right on top of it. “And I can definitely feel it.” The brunette pushed herself down, biting her lower lip. 

“Please, stop moving.” You whined, trying to hold her still, but she was determined, you could see it in her eyes. It wasn’t going to take long before your underwear became a bother. “Tara, I’m warning you.” 

“You sound so hot, you should use that tone with me more often.” Her hands grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, wrinkling it, pulling you closer until her mouth was yours. You didn’t stop her or kissed her back, but your grip on her waist grew stronger. She smiled against your lips, one of her hands sliding down your body, nails scratching your belly under your hoodie, threatening to trespass the waist of your shorts. “Can I touch you?” 

You gulped hard, staring at the brown eyes that looked soft, unlike her hands. “Are you sure you want to do this? There's no point of return.” Tara nodded fast, not giving a second thought to it, playing with the waist of your shorts. “You can touch me.”

When you gave Tara permission to touch you, you thought the girl was going to wrap her hands around your soft shaft, but all she did was kiss you, slowly and enticing, and this time you kissed her back. Your hands on her waist helped her move against your lap, grinding on you at a torturous pace. 

You wanted to turn around, change your positions so you could control whatever it was about to happen, but you allowed her to be in charge; this was all about Tara proving to herself she’s not the problem, right? So you held back the urge.

Tara’s hands moved up again, wrapping around your neck as she got closer, pushing herself down on you, moaning against your parted lips when she felt your dick pressing on her even though you weren’t hard. 

Her kiss trailed down your neck, gently nibbling on the skin there. You threw your head back, moving your hands down her ass, under the skirt of her dress to push her harder against you, increasing her hips’ speed.

“Fuck…” You let out a sharp breath, completely affected by the delicate touches coming from your best-friend, and that only made her more eager to pleasure you. 

“Do you like this?” Tara whispered in your ear, softly biting on your lobule, tracing the cartilage with her teeth. All you could do was nod. She could feel you slowly getting hard against her ass.

Licking your lips, you thrust your hip up in a strong move, making the both of you moan lowly. You could come just with that friction if she continued moaning with her mouth so close to your ear, only for you to hear it.

Tara’s hands trailed down your body once again, but this time she pushed down the elastic of the waistband of your gray shorts, in a silent request for you to remove it. She lifted herself just enough for it to slide down your legs, pooling just before your knees, the black boxer still hugging your thighs tightly. 

She didn’t want to look down, too shy to do so, but when she sat back against your bulge, it was impossible to not look at it. She pursed her lips together, the moan choked in the back of her throat as she felt you pressing hard against her. A wet spot taking form on the dark, thin cloth the more she rolled her hips on you.

It was an agonizing pain to let Tara in control of the situation. You could feel the warmth and wetness dripping for her cunt, you would easily slide in her, if she allowed you to. But you didn’t know how far she wanted to go with you, after all, this was just a test to see if she could get you hard, and she definitely could as she felt you twitching against her in desperate need to release. 

This could've stopped here and now, you were hard after all, but in a bold move, her hand slipped into your underwear, her hand holding your dick in a hard squeeze that almost made you scream against her mouth. Pulling your length out, Tara wrapped her hand around your shaft, moving it up and down in a provocative way, smiling against your parted lips. Her eyes were dark, staring at you with luxury dripping from the brownish just like she was dripping on your thighs. You could feel the hot, thick liquid oozing on your skin as she rubbed herself on you.

“Fuck, Tara.” You breathed out again, broken, lewdly. 

The brunette dipped her hand in her own underwear, eyes threatening to close as she rounded her swollen clit with two fingers, but she kept them open with a wicked expression on her face. Tara pulled her dress up, giving you the privileged view of her ruined underwear, the white fabric completely transparent. You couldn’t help yourself as your finger traced the wet stain, Tara’s mouth hanging open at the agonizing slow touch.

“Stop.” She asked in a trembled voice, shakingly holding your hand with flushed cheeks. “I don’t wanna cum like this.”

“And how do you wanna cum?” 

Letting go of your hand, she watched with focused eyes as you took two of your fingers in your mouth, sucking at the slick that coated them with a satisfied hum. Tara seriously considered saying she wanted to ride your face and fall apart on your lips, but she just, messily, removed her underwear. A thin line of arousal followed the cloth as she tossed it somewhere in your bedroom, your mouth watering at that.

Tara pulled your boxer slightly down just enough for your member to be released, proudly hitting your lower belly, before placing herself on top of your cock, the blood flowing in your veins reverberating against her clit, making both of you choke on your breath. She fitted your length in between her slick folds, almost crying at the warm feeling. 

She started grinding on you, shaking at every small move. 

“This feels so fucking good.” 

Throwing her head back, Tara supported her weight on her arms, gaining a fast pace. Your hands held the skirt of her dress up, giving you the perfect view of her shining cunt, smearing herself all over your cock. You could feel that tight knot on your stomach at that.

Moving one of your hands up and taking the dress with it, you crossed a barrier when you exposed her perfect tits, holding the stiff nipple with your thumb and index finger in a hurtful squeeze, earning yourself a crying moan that only made you throb against her center, while the other hand bruised the skin of her ass. You could see the red marks of your fingers all over her waist. 

Pulling her torso towards you, your lips wrapped around her other nipple, trembling your tongue on the hardened nub, making Tara’s hands pull on your hair, keeping you close to her chest. Her hips started to lose speed, squirming in your arms as she neared her release; you weren’t going to last much, not when she started whispering your name over and over, shakingly violently in your arms. You came right after her, shooting thick ropes of cum directly into your hoodie. 

Your arms were fast to hold her against you, keeping her body close as you came down from your high together. Tara's head fell on your shoulder, her hot breath tickling the skin of your neck, you could feel her smile. 

“You okay?” Being the first one to break the silence, you asked in a soft voice, running your hands up and down her back, feeling her heart beating like crazy; yours weren't different, smashing itself against your ribcage.

“I'm great.” She mumbled out, weak and out of breath. “Are you okay?” 

Feeling the nod of your head, she pulled away from her hiding spot. When you met her eyes, a pinkish color was filling the skin around her cheekbones, coloring the freckles that spread across her face, and unlike you were wondering inside your head, things didn't look awkward after that; Tara still had that familiar, warm look in her eyes when she leaned in to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips. 

“Are you proud of yourself?” 

“For making you cum without barely touching you?” Tara laughed in a proud voice, avoiding looking down as she felt your length still comfortably placed in between her slick folds.

Your hands were firm on her waist when you lifted her hips, guiding the tip of your cock against her sensitive bundle of nerves before slowly sliding in her cunt at the same time she fell back on your thighs, trying to catch her breath at the sudden invasion. A small smile on her face at the feeling of being full, her velvety walls clenching hard around your shaft, still recovering from her orgasm. 

“For the fact that I'm still pretty hard.” Pressing kisses over her jawline, you thrusted up, a surprised moan escaping her throat. “Can you feel it? How hard I am? How good I'm filling you?” 

“Yes…” She choked out, wrinkling your hoodie in her fingers, trying to find support on your shoulders when your hands forced her up, your member coated in a thin layer of her arousal before sliding her back down. “I'm very proud of myself.” The breathy confession made you smile against her neck, softly biting on her jugular before your movements gained a steady rhythm, mixing with the wet sounds and the melody tone of her voice calling out your name for every neighbor to hear.

[purerae]

how would the yanderes react to u getting hit on by a stranger when ur out on a date with them

features ;; yandere!playboy and yandere!jock :p

YANDERE!PLAYBOY — Kieran.

LOL, he’d be so so mad but would hide it behind a smirk. You’d think he genuinely doesn’t care while the guy’s talking to you—but you know him better than that. The way Kieran’s fist clenches at his side? Yeah, that says everything.

He’d just watch for a while, scoffing at the absolute audacity of the man to hit on you when hes right there! The mans totally ugly and not your type and stupid and dumb and—.

Once he grows bored of the conversation (in other words gets extremely jealous) , he’d wrap his arm around your waist and peck your neck—right in front of the guy—making it so awkward because it was so abrupt. Kieran, of course, would flip it right back, weirding the guy out by flirting with him instead. He’d bat his lashes all flamboyantly and go, "Oh, I’d be glad to take you on a date, babe!" just to mess with him.

After the poor guy finally leaves, Kieran’s cocky smirk would turn to you as he wraps both arms around your waist. His chin on top of your head, as he laughs. He knows you hate PDA, but he doesn’t care right now. These idiots should know you’re his, right? “I should lock you right up~! you’re popular aren’t ya princess?” his smile drops but the cheery tone in his voice remains.

YANDERE!JOCK — Alex.

Alex would go into full on panic mode for a few seconds, his puppy-dog eyes rapidly flicking between you and the guy, his eyebrows twisted in confusion. Can’t this weirdo see him practically clinging onto you while you wait in line for the café he’s been begging you to visit with him??

He’d quickly break out of his trance, Alex would not entertain the man at all as the 6’6 jock takes a step forward; looming over the stranger with a fake smile on his face. “Hey dude! is there a problem?” He tries to act cool and nonchalant but fails miserably; struggling to decide on maintaining his sunshine persona infront of you, or threatening the guy.

He’d most definitely scare the guy off with his physically imposing body, watching him leave the cafe with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows— gripping your hand tightly before looking down to see you tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. His face dropping into a pout with beady eyes staring into yours as he holds both your hands and puts it to his face. “You’re too pretty cutie!” He whines childishly, kissing your knuckles. “Look at all these guys staring at you! You’d pick me and only me, right?”

[ihatebrainstorm]

megs n prow

[ultkenneth]

Somethin bout masked men… idc what you look like underneath, if I can feel your eyes on me I’m already on my knees ! (spectre from bo3 started my mask kink… not fair they have a hot ass voice too </3 “target eliminated” you mean my heart?) Male reader in mind, but can be read as gender neutral.

WE SUCKIN’ DICK ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT, AND THROUGH THE MORNIN’ xxxkirby, softwilly

Ghost

You don’t know how you managed to get Ghost of all people to agree to a blow job, nor did you care enough to think back on it when his gloved hands grip your hair to push you further down his dick; a groan leaving your throat to reverberate against him. Barely hear him mumble a shaky ‘bloody hell’ before your free hand reaches up to pull down his pants a little more to fondle his balls, which earns you a delicious jolt and hiss from him.

“Careful.” you hear him mumble, a gloved thumb moving to the corner of your lips to break the seal around him, globs of saliva and his pre cum dripping against your chin. Ghost makes a light chuckle sound as he watches you sink further down his cock, dead brown/blue eyes practically staring into your soul beneath his mask. “Wouldn’t want ya to choke, yeah?” 100% wants you to get choked by his dick if you’d let him.

Would last the longest among the other two.

Keegan

He’s got such a chill/nonchalant personality, so used to keeping quiet and staying in the shadows that I doubt he’d be any louder than whimpers and shaky breaths, even if he’s in the comfort of his own room/barracks. Would look everywhere except at you and how good your hands feel around him, tilting his head back or to the side and release a breath he didn’t know he was even holding as you mouth at his tip.

Keegan’s trigger finger flexing and relaxing as he gets closer to his release, twitching to grab onto something to feel like he’s in control, to call the shots or to ground himself, he doesn’t know. So he goes for the next best thing, the dog tags around your neck. Doesn’t pull hard, but enough for you to feel it against your throat before pulling you away to cum on your hands around him with a soft whimper and a ‘c-close— fuck..’ his baby blues covered behind closed lids. Truly unfortunate he kept his mask on, you’d die to see what his expression looked like.

A man of short worded sentences, feel like he’d last the second longest.

König

Whiny for such a big guy, you really think he’d know what to do with himself? Especially knowing he was bullied when he was younger and still has severe social anxiety? Wrong. The moment you reach for his pants, he’s already putty between your hands, voice shaky and pupils blown wide. His dick already soaked in pre cum before you even jerk him off properly, isn’t he cute?

König can’t help but whimper under the sniper veil when he feels your palm glide across his swollen tip, built torso tensing at the unfamiliar pleasure underneath his clothes/gear. Hands trembling and uncertain where to put them before deciding to try to cover his moans with one, the other digging into his own thigh, is he too scared to accidentally hurt you?

Will 100% revert back to Austrian-German once he gets close or is overstimulated. Moans light and shaky (have you heard his eng. va?), and the moment you lick a stripe up his dick? Instantly cumming, mumbling apologies between gasps and whines and twitching thighs. König’s really glad he kept his mask veil thing on, otherwise you’d see the embarrassing look of his pink flushed face.

“W-warten- nicht— S-scheiße...

[W-wait- don’t— F-fuck…]”

[shy-little-lesbian]

I’m losing my mind

Thinking about her showing me off to her friends.

“She’s so obedient! Show them baby”

Making me kneel, crawl around, do degrading tasks. Whatever she wants I obey. Then everyone laughs at me

Calling me back, telling me I did good, praising me with words and with affection

Praising me with kisses that turn into a deep make out session while everyone watches

Making me desperate til I forget they’re there and I let out a whimper

Pulling away knowing what your kisses do to me

Telling everyone “and she’s always so responsive! Are you wet right now princess?”

Nodding yes and trying to chase your retreating lips

“Please mommy” and everyone laughs again

She says “maybe later” and dismisses me

I’m just supposed to leave? After getting worked up like that? In front of everyone?!

Ofc I leave because I am a good listener

[zombiec]

Rent Due | Toji Fushiguro

(Top male reader) (could be read as gender neutral reader)

(Normal au)

Synospsis ☆: Toji has to pay rent some how

Warnings: Ass eating, fingering, riding

A/n: I was gone for a LONGGGG time but we are so back. Please request things. But I also have something being posted tomorrow so stay tuned!

‘Why the fuck are pomegranates $6 this is ridiculous’ I think to myself. Currently I’m at the grocery store getting food for my apartment because I have none. ‘Inflation is insane. I shouldn’t be paying $6 for pomegranates’ I think as I put the pomegranates in my cart. What can I say? I love pomegranates. As I’m in my own head fussing about pomegranates I bump into someone, causing them to stumble a bit. “oops, I’m sorry” I say before looking at the person who I bumped into.

“Oh, Toji, it’s you.” I say staring into his green eyes that are glaring right back into mine. “Watch where you’re going next time.” he huffs before walking past me. Well..tries to. Before he could walk off, I grab him by his wrist. “Wait, I actually need to talk to you.” As he turns back around with a glare, I look him up and down (kind of checking him out..) He’s currently in a black sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, slides on and no socks that show his crusty little toes that I refuse to look at or acknowledge.

Toji clears his throat and yanks his wrist out of my grip. “What did you wanna talk about?” he asks, staring straight at me with annoyance. “I haven’t gotten your rent for this month.” Toji rolls his eyes in annoyance. “The month just started give me some time.” I scoff at him, “You’re late on rent every month—and on top of that—you’re supposed to pay rent every 1st of the month.” He sighs and grunts before looking up. “Ok, fine. Can you just give me until the end of the week?” I roll my eyes. It’s currently Tuesday; how the hell is he gonna come up with $1,079 by the end of the week? “Alright, fine. But if you don’t have it by the end of the week, I’m gonna have to kick you out.” With that, I walk away before he can say anything else.

That man is ALWAYS late on his rent. It’s like he’s allergic to paying on time. To my knowledge, he’s living by himself. I know he has a kid, but all I know is that he doesn’t live with him. The only way I know he has a kid is because I was being nosey and listened to him speaking to his son on the phone. He doesn’t bring his kid around here, but I know he goes and visits him.. or atleast I think that’s what he does. I don’t know, guys kinda a mystery and I’m intrigued to find out more.

As I get all my things and head to my car I get a call and pick it up without looking at the contact name. “[nameeeee] let’s go out tonightt” you hear the annoying voice of Satoru Gojo, one of your best friends. “What are we high schoolers? Don’t you have a life Satoru?” “Oh come on you’re only 27 live a little!..come on even Shoko is coming” I perk up at that name. I love Shoko. We were so close in highschool and we still are but we rarely talk because we’re both so busy. “Ugh ok fine. You knew mentioning her would make me come” I respond to Gojo. I have nothing better to do anyway, what’s wrong with having a little fun.

“no fair you have favorites [name]” I hear Getou speak up in his sultry ass sexy ass voice. I almost purr into the phone when I hear his voice. Me and Getou have some history, in highschool we dated for 2 years until we had a mutual agreement to end our relationship, liking each other as friends more. But ofcourse we fuck sometimes. Getou is sexy as hell how could I ever pass the opportunity to hit that. “Oh you know you’re my favorite suguru” I coo into the phone deepening my voice when I say his name knowing he likes that shit. “Ok stop flirting on my phone I don’t wanna hear that” I hear Gojo say in the back ground before I hear fighting noises. I sigh and chuckle. “Ok I’ll see you guys later bye.” I hang up the phone and head home.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“fuck that bitch get sexy” Gojo sings along to the song playing in the club dancing on literally anyone near by. That man is a mess drunk. Such a light weight he’s had literally one drink. I chuckle watching him dance the night away with Getou and Shoko right next to him. I watch from a distance a little woozy from the few drinks that I had. I talk about Gojo being a lightweight but look at me. Can barely stand straight. If a cop told me to walk in a line I’m so fucked.

“Never expected to see you here” I jump a little bit at the unexpected voice. I turn to my right, lo and behold Toji Fushiguro. I smirk looking at him “what are you doing here? Don’t you have rent to pay at the end of the week?” He chuckles and rolls his eyes “you don’t know how much money I have..” he says looking me up and down. “Well I know it’s not enough if you haven’t payed yet” Toji groans and downs his shot that was in his hand “yea whatever” we sit in silence for a little bit, but I turn towards him and realize he’s been staring at the side of my face the whole time we’ve been here.

“You know you’re actually kind of attractive” I freeze and fight back a giddy smile. “Thank you, I could say the same to you” he laughs “oh I know by the way you were eye fucking me in that grocery store” my hand runs down my face, mostly in embarrassment ,and let out a giggle “well you looked good can you blame me?” He smirks and I flag down the bartender and ask for six shots. “Wanna go half and half?” I ask Toji. “As long as you’re paying” I grin. “Ofcourse.”

3 shots. It was only 3 shots. I don’t even remember what liquor I got, but I’m out of my mind right now. Toji downed the shots fast as fuck and I watched him do it. Some of it trickled down his chin to his chest and I watched as it went down his shirt. Wishing I was in there…”let’s go dance” I spoke out surprising Toji and also myself. “Ok” he simply says as he grabs my wrist and pulls me to the dance floor.

As we’re on the dance floor I kind of just stand there because I can’t dance and I don’t even know what to do..toji has been dancing well more like grinding his hips and looking into my eyes.The alcohol starts to hit me hard, I smirk a little bit and grab him by his waist pulling him infront of me so he’s grinding into me. My hand trails up to his throat and turns his head to me so we’re staring into each others eyes whilst we’re dancing.

We’re both drunk as fuck grinding on each other. He presses his ass into my groin a little too hard causing me to groan and grind into him. He makes a noise and I chuckle before he turns around and wraps his arms around my neck “you wanna take me back home?” He says and looks up at me. His eyes are hooded and the way that he’s looking at me is making me think he wants to eat me. “Sure.” I order an uber and text Gojo that I’m leaving and that they need to take a taxi home. The uber gets here and I grab Tojis hand and we get in.

The ride is gonna be 15 minutes. Thank god it’s not that long. Toji is cuddled up to me, his head is leaning on my shoulder and I’m leaning against the car door. “You good? You don’t need to throw up right?” He opened his mouth and I thought he was going to say something but he just stared at me for what felt like 5 minutes. “You oka-“ before I could finish my sentence Toji grabs the back of my neck and slams his lips onto mine. I froze for a second before cupping his cheek and kissing him deeper.

Toji moans into the kiss and lifts his leg putting it over my lap. I grip his thigh and rise my hand towards his buldge that I noticed a while ago while we’re were in the club. Before my hand could even get there we’re sprayed with water. “HEY NO KISSIN IN MY CAR GET OUT WERE AT YOUR DESTINATION” the driver yelled at us. “Ok what the fuck you didn’t need to fucking spray us” before the driver could retaliate Toji grabs me by the collar of my shirt and pulls us out the car.

We stumble up towards the apartment complex. Toji still has me in his grip and is fumbling with his keys. He’s been fumbling with them for like 2 minutes I get irritated and just take the keys from him and open the door. He’s laughs and pulls me in, leading me to his room I push him on the bed and notice him smiling super hard. I laugh and look down at him. “We’re not fucking right now” he sits up so damn fast “are you kidding me?!” “You’re drunk as hell I’m not gonna take advantage of you like that” “you’re a fucking asshole” “byeeee Toji see you at the end of the week for rent” you say before stumbling off to your own apartment.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

(POV switch)

Welp. Gotta go kick his ass out. You stand up with a sigh and head to Toji’s apartment. Before you even get to knock on his door the door busts open. He looks kinda mad. Too bad you have nothing to do with that! “What the fuck do you want now” you quirk your brow and look around, because who is he talking to....”uhh I’m here for your rent. It’s the end of the week” toji groans and pulls you into his apartment. “Look I don’t have the rent okay! But you can’t kick me out” you frown “says who?” You say and scoff spinning around to leave, until he grabs your shoulder and spins you back around. “Says me. I have another way I can pay…” he says and looks up into your eyes.

“What did you have in mind…?” You knew exactly what he was getting at, And you weren’t gonna turn him down. At all, but you’d think it’d be funny to make him say it. Toji walks closer to you and wraps his arms around your neck “you know how..” I chuckle and look clueless “how am I supposed to know if you won’t tell me?” “You’re so irritating you know that?” He says and frowns up at you. “I want to pay with my body” he says in your ear. You shiver a bit at his deep smooth voice. You step back from him and sit on his couch legs spread and back relaxed. “Ok. Show me what you got” I smirk up at him.

“You cocky fuck.” He says before swinging his leg over your lap, and sitting on you kissing up your neck. “You know you left me all riled up that day” you look at him weird. “What day?” Toji stops and looks at you. “You don’t remember?” He asks and you just wince a bit. “Uhh no. I don’t remember anything from Tuesday” Toji rolls his eyes “whatever forget it” you were going to say something but he kissed you and grounded his ass into your lap. You moan a little bit and grab his waist making him grind on you so you can get more friction, which pulls a small gasp out of you.

Tired of the teasing you flip Toji over and place him on the couch on his back. Toji gasped Surprised by your strength,because he is pretty heavy. “Take these off” you say referring to his sweat pants. Toji extremely turned on by you right now rushes to take his pants off pulling his underwear off too in the process. You eye him and smirk getting an idea. You change the position again instead this time he’s on all fours with his ass facing you, and his face resting against the arm of the couch.

You stare at his ass because holy fuck it is actually so fat. You never really noticed his ass because the baggy sweatpants he’s always seeming to wear covers it. You smack his ass watching it jiggle and hear a small moan from Toji. You smack his ass again, but harder this time causing him to moan out louder. “Fuck [name] do something already” “as you wish” you say and press your face into his ass teasingly licking his hole “mmm [n-name] please” he moans out. “Please what” Toji clicks his tongue in annoyance, and looks over his shoulder at you looking at you with lust and irritation. “Please eat me out”

As you kneel behind him, Toji lifts his hips invitingly, presenting his ass to you. His cheeks are firm and round, the pucker of his entrance visible between them. He reaches back to spread himself open for you, giving you a perfect view. “Ohh, just like that” he moans as your tongue makes contact with his sensitive flesh. “Fuck [name] lick my hole, make it wet and ready for that big dick” you eyebrows raise a bit surprised by his words. Toji rocks hips against your face, grinding his ass against your mouth as he loses himself in the pleasure of your ministrations. “Shit, your tongue feels amazing…” you move your mouth off his ass a little bit,causing him to whine “look at you already lost in pleasure and we’ve barely started” I say slapping his ass again and adding a finger into his hole with my tongue.

Toji cries out at the slap, his body jolting in surprise. Then he relaxes, submitting to your dominance as you continue to feast on his ass. His means grow louder and more desperate, echoing off the tiles. “Ahhh, yes! Fuck yeah, [name]!” He gasps out. “Use my hole, fill me up with your fingers and tongue!” Toji pushes back harder against your face, impaling himself on your digits as you thrust them in and out of his clenching hole. His breathing grows ragged, precum starts to leak from his cock as he gets closer to the edge. “Moan for me baby” you command, and Toji obeys, letting out series of wanton and needy noises as he rides your face.

“Damn you’re acting so fucking needy clenching so hard, what’s got you so pent up?” You thrust your tongue in him faster while adding another finger to his hole. Toji moans escalate into high-pitched whimpers as you increase the pace and intensity of your oral assault. The added pressure of the extra finger stretching him wide has him seeing stars.

“Nnngh, it’s you, [name]! Being around you always makes me so horny and desperate for your cock” he admits breathlessly, his voice strained with pleasure. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long since the club, I was so mad when you left me to deal with my boner myself, been so pent up all week ” Toji hips buck wildly, chasing the impending orgasm as his prostrate is stimulated mercilessly by your probing tongue and fingers. “Ahh, ah, ah! Right there, don’t stop! I’m gonna cum, gonna paint this couch with my load!” He screams out gripping the couch arm with his nails. “Then cum for me” you say wriggling around your tongue and thrusting 2 fingers into him deeper.

With a hoarse scream, Tojis body seizes up as his climax crashes over him. His cock throbs and pulses, spurting ropes of hot cum across the couch as he convulses in ecstasy. “FUCK YES [NAME]!!” He shouts, his voice raw with pleasure. “OH GOD, SO GOOD, DONT STOP!” Toji’s inner walls clench rhythmically around your invading fingers, milking them for all they’re worth as wave after wave of intense bliss washes through him. Finally, spent and trembling, he collapses forward onto the arm of the couch, panting heavily. “Holy shit….that was incredible,” he mumbles, his words slurred with post- orgasmic euphoria.

“Yeah well I’m not done with you so why don’t we take this to the room” you smirk at him slapping his ass again. You can’t help yourself you love seeing his ass jiggle. Toji yelps at the sting of the smack, his sensitive hole fluttering in response. He quickly scrambles off the couch, turning to give you a sultry look over his shoulder. “I hear you loud and clear," he purrs, sauntering towards the bedroom with an exaggerated sway of his hips. “Can't wait to take that massive cock for a spin and milk you dry."

Your brows rise in surprise and your cock pulses at his words. Once inside, Toji climbs onto the bed and lies back, spreading his legs wide in invitation. He reaches down to stroke his softening cock, giving it a few lazy pumps as he gazes at you with hungry eyes."Well, aren't you going to come join me, [name]? My hungry hole is waiting for its main course..." you smirk and tear your clothes off (not literally, you care too much for your clothes) and stalk towards him with a predatory glint in your eyes. You lay between his legs and kiss him. Toji melts into the kiss, moaning softly as he feels the impressive girth of your erection pressing against his stomach. “You drive me crazy”you speak up.

Toji reaches down to wrap his hand around the base of your shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Then why don’t you show me just how crazy I drive you, hmm?” He guides your dick to his entrance, teasing you with the promise of his eager hole. “Fuck baby” you moan slipping inside him, and thrusting into him. “Shit you’re so fucking right. It’s like you saved it just for me” you say with a cocky grin. Toji arches his back, a sharp cry escaping his lips as you sheath yourself inside him. His inner walls clench tightly around your invading length, the heat and friction sending shivers of pleasure coursing through his veins.

“Oh god, yes! So big and thick, filling me up perfectly” he gasps, his voice strained with the effort of accommodating your size. “Your right, I saved the best for you. No one can make me feel like this.” Toji begins to rock his hips, meeting your thrusts with increasing enthusiasm as he becomes lost in the sensation of being taken so deeply. His nails dig into your back, leaving faint marks as he holds on for dear life. “Don’t hold back, give it to me hard! I want to feel every inch of that magnificent cock splitting me open” wow the way he was talking he seemed like a whole different person. You were reveling in the fact that he was acting like a dumb whore on YOUR dick.

You flip the the position around so that Toji is sitting on top of you, and start fucking into him. Bouncing him on your cock watching his pecks bounce as well, smirking and bringing my mouth to his nipple sucking on it. Toji lets out a delighted squeal as you flip him over, his legs clenching beside you anchoring himself. He grinds down on your pistoning cock, reveling in the feeling of being bounced on your rigid member. “Ahhh, yes! Make me ride you harder, [name]! Make those fat balls slap against my ass” he demands, his voice pitched high with arousal. You chuckle a little at his eagerness. As you latch onto his other nipple Toji throws his head back, a strangled man tearing from his throat. His free hand comes up to tangle in your hair, holding you close as you lavish attention on his sensitive peak. “Oh fuck, just like that! Suck and bite, mark me up as yours!”

I beam up at him loving how he’s losing himself while you fuck him. “You’re so naughty. You say biting his nipples and sucking on them, and gripping his waist fucking into him harder and spreading his legs a bit so he could feel it more, hitting something that you think is his prostate. Tojis entire body jolts as you strike his sweet spot. A guttural wail ripping from his lungs. His vision blurs, overwhelmed by the onslaught of pleasure coursing through his nerves.

“FUCK RIGHT THERE [NAME]! POUND ME, MAKE ME YOUR FUCK TOY!” He screams, his voice cracking with the force of his climax building rapidly. His hips buck wildly, trying to meet each brutal thrust as he loses himself to the sheer intensity of the sensations. Tears stream down his face, mixing with the sweet beading on his brow as he rides the edge of ecstasy. “IM GONNA CUM, [NAME], PLEASE FILL ME UP, BREED ME, MAKE ME YOURS FOREVER!” “Fuck Toji!” You curse out his words driving you insane causing you to piston into him coming to your own end. Toji’s back arches sharply as he feels your cock throb within him your hot seed painting his insides. His own release explodes from him in a cascade, coating your stomach and chest as he cries out in rapture. “YES, [NAME], FILL ME UP, MARK ME AS YOURS!” He chants deliriously, his body shaking with the force of his own orgasm.

You slap his ass again which only serves to heighten his pleasure, pushing him over the edge. Toji collapses forward his weight settling heavily on you as he struggles to catch his breath. “That was….incredible” he pants. Rolling over on the other side of the bed and covering himself with the cover.

You cleaned Toji up after you two finished having sex and gave him some water. You ordered food a little while ago and you guys are just chilling in his room watching tv “oh I almost forgot” Toji says pulling out a white envelope which was kind of thick and threw it at you. “Jeez” you say and open the envelope brows rising in surprise as there is a stack of money in there. “Umm I’m not a prostitue” he slapped your chest. Which kinda really fucking hurt with his heavy handed ass. “It’s the rent idiot” your jaw dropped. “YOU HAD IT THIS WHOLE TIME?!”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Thanks for reading ♡!

[codnasties]

unhinged gaz 🧢 (🌽 link)

kyle is such a good guy, he's a gentleman and he embodies the meaning of courteous. but one time that 141 had planned to go to the pub to hang out and have a few pints, and gaz was not only not showing up but also not answering their texts and calls, that facade fully fell of.

because gaz is a bit unhinged. and he did not forget that he was meeting up with his mates, but he had priorities, like fucking you. he intended it to be just a quickie before leaving but it got out of hand. and with out of hand i mean he just couldn't resist putting his pretty dick inside of your delicious ass. and cumming inside of it.

right after filling your ass with his seed he got hit with post-nut clarity and realised he was late and that they had been trying to contact him nonstop. so he decided to not tell them a cheap excuse, but show them.

and there it goes, a simple 'sorry, was occupied' accompanied by a close-up shot of your behind milking his cock. it was a slip of character but a man has to have his attention where its needed aka you and your juicy butt.

[stellewriites]

Hii! Can you do ghoap x reader fluff? Like cuddles with mild flirting (from soap, obviously) and like soap is the little spoon, because in return he gets head scratches in return, reader in the middle, and Simon as the big spoon just pressing his face into the crook of readers neck?

Would rlly apreciate it <3

-🌑

i loved this idea when i read it and then proceeded to take far too long to actually answer it lmao BUT!! here it is,, ghoap x fem!reader fluff - ty for the request 💓

you picked up the cheap jar of pasta sauce and compared it to the branded version stacked next to it. as far as you could tell, the ingredients were the same and the little veg chunks included weren’t any smaller.

you nodded to yourself. it was decided, you weren’t paying two quid extra just for a name, fuck dolmio.

you looked higher to the top shelf and frowned when you saw the pasta had been pushed away from the edge and you’d be unable to reach it on your own.

“need a hand, dove?”

you turned to see a handsome man with a mohawk beelining towards you, his eyes tracing your frame with hot familiarity. without waiting for your response, he bullied his way into your space to reach over you for the pasta. barely stepping back, he handed you the pack and looked you up and down.

“thanks, stranger,” you said, holding back a laugh at his amused smile. you saw the moment he decided to play along.

“pretty skirt,” he said and nodded down to your bare legs peeking out beneath the denim.

“hm, my boyfriend got me it,” you said, a little teasingly.

“oh? and this boyfriend, he’s left ye all alone to do the shoppin’ has he?”

“no, he’ll be back soon. and he’s kinda protective, won’t be happy seeing me talking to other guys,” you said trying not to smile.

“ah’m no’ scared,” he scoffed, his own smile breaking out as he looked around the aisle eagerly for the aforementioned boyfriend.

“i don’t know, he’s pretty big and strong, wears a scary mask,” you said.

“aye? reminds me o’ my boyfriend,” he said and you finally giggled, leaning in to kiss him and giving up playing pretend.

“dove, they got their tiger bread in stock again,” simon said as he rounded the corner of the aisle and interrupting your kiss. “i ha’n’t ‘ad this in ages.” simon barely paused at the unexpected appearance of johnny, his eyes turning up in the corners as he smiled under his mask. “johnny, look, tiger bread.”

“yeah, i seen, si,” johnny said fondly, crowding you back against the trolley. “only getting the one loaf?”

simon paused. “hm. you’re right.”

you snorted as he dropped the bread into the trolley before heading back to the bakery section and leaving the pair of you alone again.

“work was a fookin’ drag, dove, cannae stand all this paperwork they’re keepin’ me busy with,” johnny groaned into your temple. you petted his arm consolingly before turning back to your list and shopping trolley.

“you were injured less than a month back, john, you can’t have been expecting to be back in the field so soon?” you hummed as you continued shopping with johnny leant over your back.

his silence spoke volumes.

you shook your head as you made your way through the store and waved simon over as you passed him by, hoping he hadn’t harassed the bakery staff into making more tiger loaves last minute for him. the absolute fiend.

“wha’s wrong with him?” simon asked as he got back, hands full as he nodded to johnny’s slumped frame. you refrained from asking simon if you really needed three tiger breads and instead nudged your other boyfriend up from your shoulder.

“he’s bored,” you said easily, grinning when johnny pulled back properly to send you a betrayed look.

“fuck’s sake. c’mere,” simon huffed before dipping down to kiss him, chuffing a laugh as johnny sputtered at the woollen texture of the mask in between them. “you’ll be back in no time. just behave or it’ll be longer.”

“ye sound like cap,” johnny grimaced. he wiped a hand down his tired face. “when are we goin’ home, hm? fuckin’ knackered, could do with a nap before dinner.”

“y’drive ‘ere?” ghost asked while you grabbed a box of eggs, checking for any cracked inside.

“aye.”

“then you can leave whenever,” ghost said flatly, though the glint of his eyes in the overhead lights betrayed his amusement at johnny’s plight.

johnny pouted.

“yer cruel, si. tell him, dove, he’s heartless,” johnny bemoaned dramatically.

“you’re cruel and heartless, simon, would you prefer strawberry jam or raspberry for a change?”

“could be a treat,” ghost conceded.

johnny groaned at the both of you, pinching your hip when you laughed.

“you both know i cannae sleep without someone’s arms around me,” he huffed, turning his big puppy eyes on you both.

you caved immediately.

“aw poor baby,” you cooed, biting your lip when you saw simon roll his eyes. “let’s get this done quick then, yeah? go grab the burgers we like from the frozen section and that ice cream we got a couple weeks back.”

“yes, ma’am.” johnny jogged off.

“si, can i trust you not to make your way back to the bakery if i give you a list of items to grab?”

“no,” he admitted without shame. “i saw the lad in the back prepping more for tomorrow, think i could convince ‘im to cook ‘em now for me if given the time.”

“right. hand holding it is as we find the toiletries then. ‘s like herding cats with you two.”

simon hummed, his eyes trained on the section you knew the bakery to be hidden in.

—

once home, johnny packed away the majority of your shopping in record time, snatching the jam from simon’s hands and almost throwing it onto the work top before plying his mask up one handed and dragging him down into a rough kiss with the other. you watched, amused, with raised eyebrows as johnny dragged him back towards the bedroom desperately, waving a hand at you and gasping out a needy, “dove, c’mon, stop fucking around,” in between wet kisses.

you didn’t need to be told twice before attaching your hands onto simon’s thick waist from behind, guiding them from bumping into any furniture or walls as they stumbled blind to the bedroom.

johnny pulled back with a dopey smile and pushed simon none too gently onto the bed. you took advantage of his lowered height and pulled off his mask completely, rubbing a gentle hand over his buzz cut hair and down to his jaw. you leant in for a soft peck before feeling johnny’s hands and arms wrap around your soft stomach.

he clung to you, nuzzling at your cheek over your shoulder until you turned in his arms to share your attention.

you heard the bed creak as simon settled further up the bed as johnny kissed you. you shuffled back, parting from johnny just long enough to get your bearings and climb onto the bed, simon’s hands moving to guide you back as johnny hummed against your lips.

you flopped back into simon’s arms, got comfortable as he wrapped you up and held you tight against him.

johnny sighed in relief at the sight and shuffled down so he could rest his head on your chest.

you gathered him close and laughed when he started whining when your hands stayed on his shoulders.

“so needy johnny, have you ever heard the phrase ‘patience is a virtue’?” you teased as you started to run your nails through his hair, lightly scratching until he sighed and dropped his body weight against you and simon.

“too t’red,” he mumbled.

simon lifted his warm hand from your hip and draped it heavily over the back of johnny’s neck, keeping him close. soon enough, the scot was snoring.

you tried not to laugh, your chest bouncing johnny with your muffled chuckles. “i think that might be a record.”

“tired lamb,” simon said condescendingly, but he rubbed his thumb lovingly over the soft skin behind johnny’s ear.

“don’t be mean.” you grinned back at him.

simon hummed and rested his head into the crook of your neck, tucking you in closer with the arm still wrapped underneath your waist. “not bein’ mean.”

he nipped at your neck, a soft nibble that had you gasping and clenching your thick thighs around the one johnny had slipped inbetween.

“prick,” you huffed without malice when he stopped and let out a long tired breath in your ear. he hummed with closed eyes, clearly not listening.

you chuffed a laugh into johnny’s hair. the low thrum of arousal simon had brought on was easy enough to ignore but you’d have rather he’d finished what he started. instead, you tucked your cold toes between his large calves behind you in penance and tugged johnny even closer, enough to smother him. with your arse perched perfectly in simon’s lap and johnny nestled close to his second favourite place on your body, you were sure they’d give you what you were after once their nap is over. you closed your eyes with a smile; you could wait for them to get their energy up, and you loved your puppy piles just as much as they did.

[ilovemarvel97]

Written in Our Souls - Part 14

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Wanda’s nausea continues.

Word Count: 4,375

Warnings: fluff

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

---

The nausea didn’t stop.

It became a pattern—subtle at first, then impossible to ignore. Every morning, Wanda would rush to the bathroom before her eyes had even fully opened, groaning softly as she curled over the toilet. Y/N was always there, rubbing her back, whispering soft reassurances, her voice laced with growing worry.

Breakfast was now a struggle. The smell of eggs turned Wanda’s stomach. Garlic made her gag. Even the scent of freshly brewed coffee, once a comfort, sent her reeling. The only thing that calmed her was Y/N—her scent, her touch, her voice. As soon as Y/N was near, Wanda’s breathing steadied, her nausea eased. It was like her body knew exactly what it needed to feel safe.

But Wanda wasn’t safe—not from the truth unraveling quietly in her mind.

She was late.

Three weeks late.

And deep down, she knew what that might mean.

She hadn’t said anything. Not yet. Not when they’d only been together for six months. Not when everything between them still felt fragile and sacred. Not when the truth would force her to admit what she’d done.

She sat on the edge of the bed that morning, pale and trembling slightly. Y/N was in the kitchen, making toast—just butter, plain and safe. Wanda’s hands were folded tightly in her lap, her heart pounding with guilt.

It had been meant to be a gift.

A spell she wove with so much love and care, enchanted delicately into the strap they’d chosen together. She wanted to make their intimacy feel more deeper. Something Y/N could feel together with her. She’d linked it to her magic so that when they made love, Y/N could feel everything. Not just touch, but warmth, closeness, connection.

She didn’t know it would work this…real. 

She pressed a hand to her abdomen, still soft and unchanged.

The sound of footsteps drew her attention. Y/N appeared in the doorway with a plate of toast and a glass of water, her brow creased with gentle concern. She set the plate down on the nightstand and knelt beside her.

“You’re scaring me, baby,” Y/N said softly. “This isn’t just a stomach bug. Something’s going on. Please… talk to me.”

Wanda blinked fast, willing the sting behind her eyes to fade. Her throat tightened.

She wanted to say it. I think I’m pregnant. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I’m scared too.

But all she could see was Y/N’s face—the love in her eyes, the trust—and the terrifying thought: What if she thinks I betrayed her? What if she thinks I was with someone else?

So instead, Wanda leaned forward, cupped Y/N’s face with shaking hands, and whispered, “Just… hold me. Please.”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She climbed up beside her on the bed and wrapped her arms around her, holding her like she always did—gently, completely, without judgment.

Wanda pressed her face into Y/N’s neck, breathing her in like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. And for now, it was. Her nausea subsiding immediately. 

But the truth pressed heavy against her chest.

And Wanda knew she couldn’t hide it much longer.

---

The next morning, the nausea hit harder than ever.

Wanda barely made it to the bathroom in time, the retching violent, exhausting. She clutched the edge of the sink afterward, knuckles white, heart racing. Her legs trembled beneath her. She rinsed her mouth, splashed cold water on her face, but she couldn’t bring herself to look in the mirror.

She didn’t recognize the reflection these days—tired eyes, pale skin, guilt sitting in her chest like a second heartbeat.

Behind her, the door creaked open.

Y/N stepped in quietly, eyes instantly scanning Wanda’s reflection. “Baby…”

Wanda turned toward her, lips parting to speak, to offer another half-truth—just a stomach bug, I’ll be fine,—but something stopped her this time.

Y/N wasn’t looking at her like someone who needed an excuse. She was looking at her like someone who already knew something wasn’t being said—and was terrified of what it might be.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Wanda whispered, voice cracking.

Y/N crossed the room in two steps, cupping her face. “Then don’t. Just tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

Wanda’s eyes filled with tears. Her hands rose slowly, trembling, as she pressed them over Y/N’s on her cheeks.

“It’s not food poisoning,” she said softly. “It’s not stress. I’m… late.”

Y/N blinked, not understanding at first. “Late?”

Wanda nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Then, barely audible:

“I think I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air like a lightning strike.

Y/N stepped back slightly, her hands falling away. “But… how? We’re both… you and I…” Her brows furrowed, confusion shadowing her features before realization began to flicker behind her eyes.

Wanda swallowed hard. “You know I enchanted the strap, right? To make it feel like a real one for you?”

Y/N nodded slowly.

“I… I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just wanted us to feel everything together. I didn’t even think but…” Wanda looked down, shame washing over her. “Maybe our soulmate bond got linked or…I don’t know…I never imagined it could actually…”

“Create life,” Y/N finished for her, voice barely above a whisper.

Silence.

Wanda’s heart raced. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t dare look up.

Y/N smiles lovingly as she caress Wanda’s cheek, “did you take the test?” 

Wanda shook her head slowly, eyes still cast downward. “No… I was too scared,” she whispered. “What if it’s true? What if it’s not? Either answer would change everything.”

Y/N’s thumb traced gently along Wanda’s cheek, wiping away a tear. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice steady and warm. “We already changed everything the second we chose each other. Nothing could make me walk away. Not even this.”

Wanda’s gaze finally lifted, hesitant and glassy. Y/N was smiling—gently, openly, without a trace of fear. Only love. Only faith.

“Come on,” Y/N said, brushing a strand of hair behind Wanda’s ear. “Let’s take it together. You don’t have to be scared alone.”

A shaky breath left Wanda, a tiny laugh breaking through the tension. “You really want to be in the bathroom with me while I pee on a stick?”

Y/N grinned. “We’ve fought aliens and gods side by side, Wands. I think I can handle three minutes of waiting on a pregnancy test.”

That finally pulled a smile from Wanda, a real one, small but honest. She nodded, then leaned forward to press her forehead to Y/N’s.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Wait here” Y/N kiss her lips softly before super speeding away. 

Wanda watched her go, the warmth of that kiss still lingering on her lips, her heart pounding in a mix of nerves and hope. The silence of the room felt heavy, but in the quiet, she could almost hear the steady rhythm of Y/N’s presence beside her, even when she was gone.

A few minutes later, Y/N zipped back into the bathroom, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, the pregnancy test in hand.

Wanda’s breath hitched as Y/N held it out gently, eyes full of tenderness and unwavering support.

“No matter what it says,” Y/N whispered, “we face it together. Always.”

Wanda reached out, fingers trembling as she took the test, the world narrowing down to this fragile, pivotal moment between them.

Wanda unwrapped the test with slightly shaking hands, her eyes fixed on it like it might explode. Y/N didn’t rush her. She just stood close, steady as ever, letting Wanda set the pace.

When Wanda finally disappeared into the bathroom stall, Y/N stood outside the door, hands in her pockets, trying not to pace. She could hear the quiet sounds of Wanda following the instructions. Then a long silence. Then the sound of the test being set down.

The toilet flushed. Water ran. And then the door creaked open.

Wanda stepped out, eyes wide and uncertain, the test clenched in her hand.

“It says to wait three minutes,” she said quietly, voice tight.

Y/N nodded. “Okay. Timer’s on.”

She gently took Wanda’s hand—the one not holding the test—and led her to sit on the edge of the bathtub with her. Y/N set her phone timer, placed it face down on the counter, and then wrapped her arm around Wanda’s shoulders, pulling her close.

Wanda leaned into her immediately, burying her face in Y/N’s neck. Her breathing was shallow, uneven.

“I’m terrified,” she whispered.

“I know,” Y/N murmured into her hair. “Me too. But whatever happens, we’ve got this. I promise.”

The bond between them pulsed—calm, warm, grounding—and Wanda clung to it like a lifeline.

Three minutes had never felt so long.

When the timer finally buzzed, Y/N reached out with a steady hand, silencing it. Then she glanced at Wanda.

“You want me to look first?”

Wanda hesitated, then gave the faintest nod, barely breathing.

Y/N picked up the test, looked down at it—then stilled.

Her lips parted. Her eyes widened slightly.

Wanda’s heart felt like it stopped. ���Y/N?” she whispered, barely audible.

Y/N turned to her slowly, her expression soft, stunned, and impossibly full of emotion.

She nodded.

“It’s positive.”

Wanda stared, lips trembling, as tears filled her eyes. “Oh my god…”

Y/N was already pulling her into her arms, holding her so tightly, so carefully, as if she were cradling something sacred. And maybe she was. Wanda sobbed against her shoulder—not just from fear, but from awe, from the overwhelming realization of what they had created together.

They stayed like that for minutes, tangled in each other, the test resting forgotten on the counter.

Eventually, Y/N whispered into her hair, “We’re gonna be parents, Wands.”

And Wanda, still crying, still smiling through it, whispered back:

“We already are.”

Y/N didn’t let go—not when Wanda’s breath caught in her throat again, not when another tear slid down her cheek, not when her whole body trembled with the weight of what this meant. She just held her tighter, firmer, like she could absorb all the fear and replace it with love.

With certainty.

Wanda clutched the fabric of Y/N’s shirt. “This shouldn’t even be possible,” she murmured, voice muffled by Y/N’s shoulder. “It was just a spell… it wasn’t supposed to do this. I just wanted to make you feel closer, not—”

“Hey.” Y/N leaned back enough to take her face gently in her hands. “I know. I know you didn’t plan this. But magic or not… it’s ours. You didn’t mess anything up.”

Wanda searched her eyes—scared, vulnerable, still unsure.

“I don’t want you to think I was trying to trap you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Or that I betrayed you. I didn’t even know this kind of magic existed…”

Y/N gave her a look so loving it nearly undid her. “You’re not capable of trapping me. And you could never betray me. Wanda, I know your heart. I feel it. Every second. We are soulmates. And this is the most beautiful thing that could ever happen.”

Wanda’s lips trembled, more tears slipping free, but this time they weren’t from fear—they were from something deeper. A kind of quiet, overwhelming relief that flooded her chest and made her limbs weak.

“You really mean that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N leaned in and kissed her gently—slow, lingering, filled with the kind of reassurance words could never give. Then she pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against Wanda’s again, both of them breathing each other in.

“I mean every word,” Y/N whispered. “This isn’t something that happened to us. This is something we made. Something born from love and magic and everything we are.”

Wanda nodded, finally starting to believe it. “I just… I was so scared. It’s only been six months since we finally got together and now everything’s changing so fast—”

“It is,” Y/N agreed softly, brushing her thumb along Wanda’s cheek. “But love’s never been slow for us, has it? We’ve been through battles, heartbreak, hell—and we found our way to each other. You may think this is fast… but I loved the idea of you since your name appeared on my wrist. If you think that way, it’s not really fast” 

Wanda let out a soft, choked laugh at that, her heart twisting with affection. Her fingers tightened around Y/N’s shirt again, grounding herself in her soulmate’s presence.

“You really are the most ridiculous, romantic woman I’ve ever met,” she whispered, brushing her nose against Y/N’s.

Y/N smiled, eyes crinkling with warmth. “Takes one to love one.”

Wanda’s tears started again, but this time they flowed freely, with no resistance—tears of acceptance, of safety, of awe.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” she whispered.

Y/N shook her head gently. “No. We didn’t get lucky. We got meant to be.”

Silence fell between them again, but it was soft, safe, filled with more than words could carry. Wanda rested her head against Y/N’s shoulder, both of their hands still cradling the small space between them. The place where something impossible was now entirely real.

After a long moment, Wanda murmured, “I think I want to tell the team soon.”

Y/N chuckled. “I was wondering how long it’d take for you to suggest a dramatic reveal. Do we go full soap opera? Or maybe just drop it during breakfast like it’s no big deal?”

Wanda looked up at her, a playful sparkle finally peeking through the emotion in her eyes. “Well, we could let Nat find the test in the trash…”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Please no. I want to live.”

They both laughed—really laughed—and that sound, after all the fear and doubt, felt like a blessing.

Wanda leaned in and whispered against Y/N’s lips, “We’re going to be okay, right?”

Y/N kissed her softly and nodded. “We’re going to be amazing.”

---

Two Weeks Later

The world outside their shared bedroom hadn’t changed, but for Wanda and Y/N, everything had.

In public, it was business as usual—training sessions, mission briefings, late-night team dinners. But behind closed doors, they whispered about baby names, stole quiet moments to feel the faint pulse of magic warming beneath Wanda’s skin, and shared soft, sleepy kisses before Y/N pressed her hand to Wanda’s belly and whispered goodnight to someone only they knew existed.

It wasn’t that they didn’t want to tell anyone. It was just… fragile still. Sacred. The kind of joy that felt like it would dissolve if exposed to too many eyes too soon.

And despite wanting to tell everyone at the beginning, Wanda wasn’t ready for questions she couldn’t answer—not about the magic, or the biology, or the way their bond had rewritten what was supposed to be possible.

Not yet.

So they kept it theirs.

That morning, Wanda sat at the compound’s kitchen island, nursing a cup of peppermint tea while pretending to scroll through her phone. Y/N stood across from her, slicing apples with ridiculous care.

“You know you don’t have to cut them like that,” Wanda said with a raised brow.

“I do,” Y/N replied without looking up, “because you gagged the last time I brought them in wedges.”

Wanda wrinkled her nose. “They were… aggressive wedges.”

Y/N smirked. “Can’t have the mother of my child assaulted by fruit.”

Wanda flushed and ducked her head quickly, the words still so new they made her heart flutter every time. She placed her hand over her lower stomach almost instinctively, fingers splayed gently.

Mother of my child.

She was still wrapping her head around it.

The quiet was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Please tell me that’s not breakfast.”

Nat.

Wanda jolted, nearly knocking over her tea. Y/N stepped in front of her in a second, casual but subtly protective, slipping the plate of apple slices toward the center of the counter.

“Good morning to you too,” Y/N said, cool as ever.

Nat raised an eyebrow, eyeing the scene. Wanda looked unusually pale. Y/N looked unusually… alert. It wasn’t suspicious. Not yet.

Just curious.

“Morning,” Nat replied, grabbing a coffee. “You two are up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Wanda murmured.

Nat’s eyes flicked to Y/N’s.

“Nightmares?”

“No,” Y/N said quickly. “Just… got restless.”

Nat took a slow sip of her drink. “Right.”

She didn’t press. But she didn’t stop watching, either.

When she finally wandered off toward the training room, Wanda let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Y/N leaned over, kissed her temple, and whispered, “We’re terrible liars.”

Wanda let out a shaky laugh. “We’ll need to be better. I think Nat suspects something already.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You want to tell her?”

Wanda thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Not yet. Just a little longer.”

Y/N nodded. “As long as you need. This gets to be ours for a while.”

Wanda smiled softly. “Ours.”

Wanda reached her hands up to Y/N’s nape, fingers threading gently into her hair, and pulled her down into a kiss—soft, slow, and full of emotion that words couldn’t quite capture. It was the kind of kiss that said thank you, and I’m scared, and I love you more than I know how to say all at once.

Y/N melted into it, one hand bracing against the counter beside Wanda and the other resting just above her hip, careful and reverent, like touching anything more might break the fragile peace of the moment.

When they pulled apart, Wanda kept her forehead resting against Y/N’s, her hands still cradling the back of her neck.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she whispered. “With this… with us. With everything.”

Y/N’s thumb traced a slow circle on her waist. “We don’t have to know everything. We just have to stay here—in this. Together.”

Wanda nodded, her eyes misty but steady now. “You make me feel safe.”

“You are safe,” Y/N promised, pressing a light kiss to her forehead. “With me, always.”

For a long beat, the world faded to just them. The quiet hum of the fridge, the distant sound of Sam yelling at someone in the training room, the clink of Natasha’s coffee mug being set down somewhere far—all of it blurred into background noise.

What mattered was this. The warmth between them. The secret they shared. The future growing quietly, impossibly, within Wanda—made of love, magic, and everything they never thought could be real.

And somehow, it was.

---

Few Days Later

The days that followed were quiet, filled with soft mornings and hidden smiles. Wanda had always been close to Y/N, but now she clung to her more than ever—especially in the early hours. Each morning, like clockwork, Wanda would burrow into Y/N’s chest, nose tucked just below her collarbone, where her soulmate’s scent was strongest. It was the only thing that eased her nausea, her nerves, her overwhelming emotions.

Y/N quickly learned to wake earlier just to hold her. She’d stroke Wanda’s hair and whisper silly things or gentle reassurances while Wanda’s breathing evened out again. They hadn’t said the word “pregnant” since that night, but it was there between them—in the way Y/N rubbed Wanda’s back, or how she kept a protective hand on her lower stomach when they suddled. It was quiet, sacred, and just theirs.

They didn’t tell anyone. Not yet. Wanda wasn’t ready, and Y/N respected that completely. She didn’t let Wanda train like before. The most she allowed was gentle stretching and walks around the property. When Nat raised an eyebrow about Wanda skipping combat sessions, Y/N had simply glared—sharp, dangerous, and so unlike her usual calm. Natasha hadn’t asked again.

---

Mission Briefing Room:

Everyone was gathered in the debriefing room, lounging around the table or leaning against walls while holograms flickered above. Steve stood at the head of the table, tapping a tablet.

“This mission is strictly numbers-based,” he said. “Intel recovery, cross-verification, nothing that’s supposed to turn into a fight.”

“Keyword: supposed to,” Natasha muttered, sipping coffee.

Wanda sat close beside Y/N, closer than usual, thigh pressed tightly against hers. Her hand rested on Y/N’s knee under the table, thumb drawing slow circles. She looked calm, but Y/N could feel the tension humming just beneath her skin.

Y/N leaned in slightly, murmuring, “You okay?”

Wanda gave a small nod, then added under her breath, “Just… stay close, alright?”

“Always,” Y/N replied, brushing her pinky gently against Wanda’s.

Steve continued outlining the mission parameters, oblivious to the quiet exchange between soulmates.

Wanda’s eyes flicked to the screen. But her fingers never left Y/N’s.

The briefing wrapped up with the usual chatter, chairs scraping back and team members peeling off to gear up. The mission was scheduled to launch in under two hours.

Y/N lingered behind, waiting until the others filtered out. Wanda was still by her side, arms folded loosely as she stared at the mission schematic, but Y/N wasn’t looking at the screen anymore. She was looking at her.

“Wanda,” she said softly.

Wanda glanced up, reading the shift in her voice instantly. “What is it?”

Y/N stepped closer, lowering her voice even though the room was empty. “I don’t want you to come on this one.”

Wanda blinked, surprised. “What?”

Y/N reached out and gently took her hand. “I know it’s not supposed to be dangerous, but missions never go how they’re supposed to. And if something happened…” Her voice dipped, and she exhaled. “I wouldn’t be able to focus. I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

Wanda hesitated, her fingers tightening around Y/N’s. “I can take care of myself, you know that.”

“I do,” Y/N said, nodding. “But I’m scared…if something happens to you or the baby…”

Wanda’s breath caught in her throat at the word.

The baby.

It sounded so real when Y/N said it—so much more than a secret, more than a quiet truth held between kisses and morning clings. It was a life. Their life. Growing slowly inside her. And Y/N was already protecting them both with that fierce, unwavering love she carried in everything she did.

Wanda’s expression softened. “Y/N…”

Y/N stepped closer, voice low and full of emotion. “You’ve always been strong. You’ve always fought. But this… this isn’t just another fight. This is different. You’ve got two heartbeats now. And I just—I can’t risk losing either of them.”

Wanda looked at her, eyes full of something she couldn’t quite name—grief at being sidelined, gratitude for being seen, fear of change, love so thick it nearly hurt.

A beat passed. Then she nodded.

“You’re not going to lose us,” she whispered. “We’ll be right here. Waiting for you to come home.”

Y/N smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind Wanda’s ear before leaning in to kiss her forehead. “That’s all I need.”

Wanda closed her eyes and leaned into her. She could still taste the worry on Y/N’s lips. But beneath it, deeper, was something steadier—something that told her they were going to be okay.

Even if things were changing, one thing hadn’t: they still belonged to each other.

---

The Quinjet engines rumbled to life as the team loaded up, laughter and idle chatter muffled by mission focus. Wanda stood just outside the ramp, arms crossed over her chest, trying to look composed. But Y/N could see right through her.

They lingered behind as the rest of the team boarded.

“I’ll be back before dinner,” Y/N promised, adjusting the straps on her gear. “And I’ll bring you that weird pickled snack you keep craving. The one Nat says smells like feet.”

Wanda smirked despite herself, her hand slipping into Y/N’s. “It does smell like feet. But… you’re the one who makes it taste good.”

Y/N chuckled, then glanced down at their joined hands. “I’m serious, Wands. You feel anything—anything off, even just a headache—you call me, okay? I don’t care if I’m in the middle of a firefight.”

Wanda nodded. “And if you so much as get a scratch, you call me. I’ll fly there myself and hex everyone responsible.”

Y/N grinned. “God, I love you.”

Wanda’s voice dropped to a whisper, meant only for her. “We’ll be waiting. Me and our little soul-light.”

Y/N’s heart skipped at the nickname Wanda had started using when they were curled up in bed late at night—soul-light. A magic-born life only possible because their souls had matched, bound, and burned so brightly.

She cupped Wanda’s cheek and kissed her one last time—soft and full of everything she couldn’t say in front of the team.

Then she pulled away, stepped onto the Quinjet, and forced herself not to look back again.

Wanda watched until the ramp closed.

Then, alone on the landing pad, she pressed a hand to her stomach, eyes closed.

“Come back to us safe,” she whispered.

Inside, the tiny hum of a second heartbeat answered her.

Inside the Quinjet, as the engines steadied into their familiar hum and the jet began to rise, the team settled into their usual pre-mission rhythm. Weapons check. Light banter. Tactical rundown. But there was still one missing piece—and it didn’t go unnoticed for long.

“Where’s Wanda?” Sam asked from his seat across the aisle, brow furrowed. “She was cleared for this one, wasn’t she?”

Nat glanced toward Y/N, narrowing her eyes slightly. “Yeah. She was even looking over the briefings yesterday.”

Y/N didn’t flinch, but her hand clenched slightly on the strap across her chest. “She’s not feeling well,” she said calmly, keeping her tone neutral. “Woke up a little off this morning. Nausea. I told her to rest.”

Sam nodded slowly, accepting it at face value, but Nat continued to study Y/N with quiet curiosity. Not suspicion—just instinct. She always knew when something ran deeper.

“Must be something going around,” Steve muttered, checking his comm. “Clint’s youngest had the same bug last week.”

“Wanda’s tough,” Y/N added lightly, trying to steer the moment away. “She’ll be fine. She just needs to take it easy today.”

And no one argued. The conversation shifted back to the mission parameters, but Y/N caught Nat giving her one last look.

A knowing one.

But Nat didn’t push. Not yet.

Y/N exhaled softly and leaned back in her seat, eyes drifting toward the window, where clouds rolled by beneath them.

"Hang in there, Wands," she thought, thumb brushing over the edge of her glove. "We’ll be home soon."

---

I think everybody expected the pregnancy already, right?😁

[woewriting]

sinbound (g!p)

pairing: tara carpenter | reader word count: 5358 warnings: mdni, +18 only! no ghostface au, reader has a dick, cheating, adultery, voyeurism, semi public sex, shower sex, breeding, exhibitionism, and if you squint really hard there's a bit of size kink... tara's a sinner and so are you. a/n: i cant believe i finally finished this one, a huge thanks to @alkivm and @wesstars for helping me out, this one is for you two.

masterlist

You never really thought of Tara as more than just a good friend, you really didn’t, but the moment you witnessed her being ruined by her boyfriend’s dick, mascara running down her cheeks, lipstick smudged all around her plump lips, and the way she smiled at you with half open lids, your mind became clouded with Tara.

Her moans, so soft and whiny.

Her hands grabbing her boyfriend’s arms, short nails digging into the muscle and tracing red marks on the tanned skin.

Her smile, so different from the ones she always greets you with when you meet for breakfast before classes. This one was small, almost like a smirk that turned into perfectly ‘o’ shaped when he bit her neck, covering her petite body with his big one.

You couldn't move, petrified with the scene rolling in front of your eyes. You watched as her nails scratched the skin of his back, pulling him impossibly closer, holding him in place so he wouldn’t see you standing there, blatantly watching them fuck. The sounds she was making wouldn’t leave your mind, the image of Tara being fucked raw while staring at you engraved in every single muscle memory of your brain.

And it did.

You stood there for what it felt like hours, watching with focused eyes the heart-giving performance Tara was putting on for you until she came, teeth sinking in the others’ shoulder to suffocate the scream that would tear her throat in pieces.

That’s when you left, your face burning red and an uncomfortable ache between your legs that you wished would disappear, twitching inside your boxers and begging for release.

With a quick wave of your hand towards your friend’s group, you left the frat house, jumping over drunken bodies sprawled in the front yard and walking back to your dorm only a few blocks away. You could still hear the loud electronic music and you smelled like alcohol mixed with different perfumes from every person that hugged you during the night.

Kicking your shoes before stepping inside — following your roommate’s number one rule, you leaned against the closed door, the image of Tara burned into your brain like a tattoo, the soft sounds she was making playing in your head like a broken record that was slowly driving you crazy, a tight knot in your stomach that made your heart beat faster.

Your hand automatically covering the volume in your pants, squeezing your length as you tried to easy down. Deep down, you wanted to open up your pants and pull your cock out, watching the way it twitched with the vivid image of Tara on her knees, sucking you off; or with her legs wrapped around your waist as you fucked her against the door frame, fast and rude, like Chad was doing it. But you couldn’t, you felt dirty already for not turning around and drinking every single solo cup, with a colorful, sparkly drink and dubious alcohol, offered to you by Mindy or Amber to erase what you had witnessed, but no, you froze in place.

With one last hard squeeze, you took a deep breath, deciding to take a cold shower to force yourself to calm down, even if the knot in your stomach was painful, like a little red devil on your shoulder, whispering lustful things into your ear like it’s the most beautiful melody that was hard to ignore. For a split of seconds, you almost listened to him, unbuttoning your pants and pulling the zipper down, removing enough pressure of you, but your phone ranged in your back pocket.

Shaking your head, you took the hardest path, the one that led you to the bathroom. Picking up your phone, Sam’s name blinking on the screen with a picture of you and her together, you gulped, declining the call and deciding to text her instead with the excuse of a migraine that was making you dizzy.

As the water hit your head and your shoulder, your muscles tensed up and you stop breathing, every single body hair standing on end with goosebumps, your member still hard against your belly. You sighed, closing your eyes to focus on the cold water that ran over your body so you could sleep and forget whatever the hell this day was.

It didn’t work, your eye bags the next morning was reason enough for your roommate to ask what happened that kept you up all night.

──

To be honest, you didn’t want to be here, sitting in your usual table waiting for them to show up, ignoring a completely enthusiastic Amber. You wanted to be under your blankets, with doors locked, phone on airplane mode and away and safe from the girl that took over your thoughts over the weekend. It’s been two days since the little “incident” at the party, you ignored every single message in the group chat claiming you “needed to study for finals”, which wasn’t a full lie but you really did not need to spend your entire weekend locked in your dorm.

“Yo, dumbass,” you blinked when a blurry hand stepped in your vision, followed by Amber’s furred eyebrows. “you’ve been weird since Friday, what’s wrong with you?”

Before you could answer, the little bell above the door rang, your eyes automatically linking with the brown ones you saw roll to the back of her head when she came all over her boyfriend. Tara was under Chad’s arm, smiling at something the taller boy said as they walked into the small cafe, coming in your direction.

You wanted to flee, leaving all your belongings back and rush to classes, but the table in front of you and the two girls, Amber and Sam, sitting on each side of you, made that wish a little bit impossible to come true, and if you tried, it would draw too much attention to yourself and that was the least thing you wanted at the moment.

You’d have to endure the torture you had set inside your own brain.

Tara was a really good actress, you thought to yourself, as the minutes went by, she, somehow, manage to keep the same image as always, the perfect girlfriend/sister/friend that is constantly smiling and pays attention to everyone and everything that surrounded her.

While you, on the other side, kept your eyes focused on the drawing that swam in your coffee mug until it slowly melted away, not paying much attention to the conversation. You made a disgusted face when you realized it turned cold under your fingertips.

“Want me to get you a new one?”

“Uh?”

Tara smiled, oh so sweet as always, placing her hand on top of yours, her thumb caressing the skin, ready to take your mug and order a new one for you. “I asked if you want me to order you a new coffee? I know you don’t like cold coffee in the morning.”

“No, uh…” You avoided her soft eyes, removing your hand and starting to pack your things to leave. “Actually, I have to go to, it’s uh… I have to take some notes before class. Can you move a little, Amber? Thank you.”

Without looking at them and feeling your heartbeat on your throat, stumbling a few times on a confused Freeman as you passed in front of her, you left your group of friends behind, ignoring the way Sam was saying your name as you walked out of the small cafe.

Once your feet hit the soft grass in front of the university, you exhaled the air that was stuck inside your lungs all the way here. Leaning forward, you took a deep breath, feeling the burning spread through your veins like poison.

“Are you okay?” A familiar voice came behind you. Sam’s hand on the lower of your back.

“Yeah, I am,” You turned to her. “I just have too much on my head right now.”

The older Carpenter analyzed you, her dark eyes roaming around your features like she always did, looking for any sign of lie.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, clenching your hands around the strap of the bag over your shoulder. “I’ll feel better after the finals, don’t worry, Sammy.”

The nickname earned you a soft smile, followed by a protective arm wrapped around your shoulders, leading you to the main building where your first class took place. Sam made sure to walk with you until you were both standing in front of the opened door, the classroom still empty when you two arrived.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nodded; eyes focused on her hands holding yours. You wanted to tell everything you saw at the party, but how would you say you saw her little sister, and your best friend, getting fucked and were starting to question how you felt about your friendship with Tara? That you feel an ache in between your legs every time you share the same space with her? It would be like throwing a bucket of cold water on her, and then the bucket itself… instead, you just smiled.

After Sam gave you a forehead kiss, she left you, walking to the other side of the campus for classes; you watched her from afar through the big window next to where you usual sat since first day, a high chair, not too far from the teacher but away enough from the troublemakers that enjoyed chatting during lessons, disturbing those who were interested in actually learning.

Through the same big window, your eyes recognized a pair that was getting near the building’s entrance. You gulped, secretly watching them kiss, your cheeks gaining a pinkish tone and a burning feeling in the pit of your stomach. The way Chad had his hands possessively on her thin waist, pulling her impossibly closer and keeping her in place, while Tara had her arms wrapped around his head, tiptoeing to reach his lips.

It was a daily thing that always got your attention even though you never really cared about the affection between them, but this time, you felt dirty, your pupils dilating to absorb every single trace of light, almost as if you were taking a picture of it, the way the wind was subtly blowing her skirt up. You pressed your legs together, the small pain seeming enough to calm down your throbbing cock. Maybe it was a terrible idea to wear sweatpants as it was easy to see the volume you were desperately trying to hide since you saw Tara entering the coffee shop in such short skirt.

When they broke the kiss, the small girl waved her boyfriend goodbye, turning on her heels to enter the same building you were.

At least we don’t have classes together today… — you thought to yourself once again, sighing in relief as you slid down on your chair and plugged your earphones in, waiting for the teacher to come in.

The classes were full of revisions for the finals, your knuckles hurting from taking notes as fast as the teacher was talking, writing down what you considered important — right now, everything. It had a good side though; Tara had left your thoughts for you to focus on what really mattered at the moment.

After an entire morning of non-stop writing, you were ready to pack everything and clear your mind at the gym near the campus, working off all the bothered you felt the past 3 days.

The space was empty, considering that it was an hour that usually was packed with students, the finals probably taking all the time. Like them, you should also be studying, but you figured it was time to let something else burn your muscles other than notes badly written on your notebook. Walking past a few faces you were familiar with, you greeted them with a smile and a small head motion, the wireless earphone blasting some random Taylor Swift song inside your head.

Just like the training area, the lock room was empty, a girl passed by you when you entered and left you alone in silence, the energetic music that played on the gym’s speakers taking over once you removed your earphones, holding them for a few seconds until you heard a robotic voice saying “power off”. Placing them inside the pocket of your backpack, you tossed the object on the top shelf of your paid lock, removing the warm jacket that hugged your body and folded it, placing it inside. Kicking your shoes off, you managed to remove your socks without falling before storing it too, the cement cold under your bare feet.

“Are you going to ignore me until when? Do I gotta put on another show for you so you can pay attention to me?” A small Tara appeared behind you, resting her chin on your right shoulder, feeling your chest rise and fall with the deep breath you took. You closed the metal door slowly.

“Why don’t you ask your boyfriend to give you attention?”

She rolled her eyes, sneaky hands climbing on your back and coming back down to rest on your waist, sending shivers down your spine. The tip of her fingers playing with the hem of your pants. “Because I want your pretty eyes on me, not his.”

Feeling a burn escalating from your chest all the way up to your neck, you turned on your heels, now facing a doe-eyed Tara.

How could you still see her so adorably after what you witnessed?

“What do you want, Tara?” You asked with a sighed, crossing your arms in an attempt to keep her away from you — even if it was millimeters.

“I want you.”

“Be for real.”

“I am.”

You analyzed her expressions. Dark brown eyes not leaving yours for even a second, those adorable freckles spread across her small nose bridge and cheeks, lower lip trapped between her teeth. She wasn’t lying, Tara couldn’t keep eye contact when she was lying.

Taking a step back and leaning against the locker behind you, you watched as she took a step closer and uncrossed your arms; you didn’t even try to stop her.

Ghostly fingers tracing your forearm, up to your biceps, resting on your neck, her thumb softly caressing your jawline.

“Tara… don’t.” You tried to sound firm, but as she was closing the gap between you two, your voice lowered a few octaves, betraying you.

“Why not?” It was all she whispered before you felt her lips softly pressing against your own, giving you a chance to push her away and go back to training, if that was what you wished.

You didn’t. Again, your body betrayed you, and so did your thoughts, the images from Friday night clouding up your mind.

The arms that were once crossed to keep her away were now enlacing her waist, pulling her against your own body, desperately trying to feel her warmth.

It was a soft press of lips, but it lasted long enough for you both to sigh, holding onto each other as if something would pull you apart.

“Did I ever tell you you’re so fucking hot in those sweatpants? God! I love when you wear those, I can see you perfectly.” She exhaled against your lips, shaking breath, hands grabbing on your biceps, nails digging the skin before covering your semi-hard member, grabbing the length over the thick cotton fabric.

You had no time to reply, her tongue licking yours so deliciously that was hard to even think of speaking something and break that moment, so you did like Tara, grabbing every muscle you could get your hands on, dartling from her lower back, down to her ass, under her skirt, pulling her up, thighs tightly wrapped around your waist as you reversed positions, aggressively pressing her against the metal locker, a painful moan escaping her lips that sounded like music to your ears.

Unable to keep your mouth away from hers, you pressed your lips again. Aggressively, needy, desperate, like you’ve been longing this for too long, and now, she was giving you the most delicious kiss you’ve ever had. Tara was delicious all over, from her honey voice, to her minty breath, intoxicating your senses with how sweet her perfume was, matching perfectly with the fake persona she wears in front of everyone. It was definitely going to stick to your shirt.

Her breath hitching, soft moans scaping from her lips whenever you moved your head to the other side, kiss fitting deliciously.

A loud laugh coming from the hallway that connected the gym’s open space and the lock room, you were quick to walk towards the shower area, entering the last stall and closing the door behind you with a violent swing, easily opening the water register to mask the sounds Tara was making.

When the icy water hit your body, a moment of guilty took over your senses and you pulled back, breaking the kiss.

“Why did you stop?” Carpenter whined, opening her eyes.

“We can’t do this, Tar.”

“But you know you want this. You know that. Tell me that you don’t. Tell me you didn’t enjoy watching the way Chad was fucking me, or the way he kisses me before going to class.” Your eyes widened, awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to another. “What? You think I don’t know you watch me through the window? Why do you think I always kiss him in that same spot?”

“I…”

“You’re so cute… all flustered and embarrassed.”

The tip of her index finger traced your jawline all the way down your neck, slightly peeking through the loosen white shirt that was slowly becoming transparent as the water hit your back, revealing the strap of your bra. She smiled; bottom lip trapped in between her teeth as she pressed herself down on the volume under her, a moan trapped in your throat at the sudden contact.

“For someone that doesn’t want this, your dick shows the opposite.” Tara moved her hips on you, the pressure of your clothed member on her clit getting her to drip on the fabric of your pants. “You’re such a liar.”

“You’re full of bullshit, did you know that?” You moved your hips up, earning a surprised moan.

The girls in the room were loud, talking and laughing about something you didn’t care about, all you wanted to hear was your best friend’s moans, loving the way she whispers your name as her hips continued to roll against you, eyes closed and a small smirk tugging on the corner of her lips.

“And you’re dying to fuck me.”

It was your turn to let out a huff, fingers squeezing the soft flesh of her bare thighs, the short skirt brushing against your hands.

“How long have you been planning this, huh?”

In a teasy tone, you close the gap between her neck and your lips, languid kisses being placed all over, goosebumps forming on the soft skin. You smiled, loving the way she squeezed her legs around your waist.

“Since I saw you kissing that blondie at the party.” She easily confessed; eyes closing to focus on the ghostly contact of your lips on her neck. “The way your hands were on her waist, your leg in between hers, the way she was bouncing on your thigh,” Tara chocked on her breath when you bit her pulse point, heartbeat fast on the tip of your tongue. “your lips on her neck, leaving bruises everywhere… It was so fucking hot I couldn’t take it anymore, so I dragged Chad upstairs and made him fuck me while I was thinking of you.” It was her turn to smile when she felt you twitch under her. “I bet you can go deeper than he can, that you can fuck me so good, ruin me… can you do that for me?”

You smiled, swiftly pulling down the hem of your sweatpants enough for your dick to pop out, hitting your belly, a relieved sigh leaving your parted lips. You brought Tara against you again, a low moan escaping her lips as her clit pressed on your length, the damp fabric of her underwear creating a pleasant friction.

“You’re sure you want this?” You asked, once again the guilt threatening to fill your thoughts, but smaller, a lot smaller than the first time, and a lot easier to make it go away; one look from Tara’s dark-brown eyes and it was gone.

Pulling her drenched panties to the side, your fingers found her warmth, loving the way she clutched around them, rubbing it up and down her slit before positioning the tip of your cock in her entrance, forcing your way in, her hips buckling it up as you stretched her out.

“Fuck, you’re so thick,” Tara breathed out, nails digging in the back of your neck as you slowly pushed yourself inside her, the velvety walls clutching around you.

Trying to ease the moment, you brought your mouth down her neck, licking all the way up to her jawline, softly biting the spot once you were all inside. Her head tilted back against the sweaty tile as water fell around the both of you, mostly hitting your back as your body protect hers from the cold temperature.

“Look at me,” you demanded, trying to keep yourself calm, allowing her to adjust first. “Tara, look at me. I want your eyes on me.”

Tara was tight around you, her warmth embracing you as deliciously as her legs wrapped your waist or as her fingers intertwined in your hair.

It took her a minute to open her eyes, pupils completely dilated as she leaned in, licking your lips with a mischievous smile before taking your bottom lip in a hurtful bite, easing the pain with the tip of her tongue.

“What are you waiting for? Just fuck me already.” She breathed out, purposefully clenching around you.

You huffed, amused by this version of Tara you never knew was hidden behind sweet smiles and kind personality; she was a slut. And you were loving every second of this, the way the back of her converses were pressed on your thighs, keeping you impossibly closer to her. Or the way she looked at you with dark, half-opened eyes, completely focused on your features.

You pulled back slowly, her mouth hanging open and eyes threatening to close, but you stopped when loud and messy conversation filled the lock room.

Tara pulled you closer by instinct, causing you to enter her in a fast move, your hand fast to cover her mouth, a low shhh falling from your lips when a struggled moan scaped hers, her throat vibrating, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

The view you had was sinful, your hand covering Tara’s mouth, some drops of water sprawling on her face, the mascara starting to run down her cheeks as the heat got too much, not even the coldest temperature couldn’t cool down the two of you, and neither the girls that were chitchatting outside the closed stall.

You started to move, slowly and careful, testing her, your other hand firmly keeping her against the wall.

"Fuck, you're clenching so hard around me." You breathed out with hoarse voice.

Tara covered your hand with hers, caressing gently before pulling it away, lips wrapping around your thumb in, your mind wondering how it would feel to have her mouth wrapped around your cock, sucking you off with the same eager she was sucking on your thumb. 

“I can feel you throbbing inside me,” she whispered, slowly bouncing her body up, using your broad shoulders as support. “it’s so good. Now, fuck me.”

You huffed, the doe, adorable, innocent eyes staring at you was a perfect contrast to the situation you found yourself at, buried deep inside her, controlling every single nerve inside your body to wait instead of fucking her raw, but the request made you smile, hand wrapping around her throat in a slight squeeze as you moved your hip down, leaving only the tip inside before forcing your way in. Tara’s lips fell apart in a silent moan, short nails digging the flesh on your wrist, an overwhelming sensation spreading all over your body to be fully inside her again.

If Tara knew you’d feel this good inside her, she would’ve done it a lot sooner.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, mouth open trying to catch a breath as she felt every single centimeter of your dick move inside her, stretching her out in a delicious way, goosebumps all over her body every time she felt the blood running through your veins, pulsating inside her.

You stopped, taking a small step to the side, getting away from the door as you heard steps coming closer. The door loudly closing next to where you were.

“Be a good girl and keep your eyes on me, would you?”

“I’m starting to think you love having my eyes on you.” She teased back, brown eyes staring at you the same second.

“I do, I want to see them when you fall apart with me inside you.” She gulped, the simple words affecting her more than she would admit. You leaned closer, kissing her jawline, waiting for the person on the stall next to you to turn the water on. “Is this what you had in mind? When you picture me with that other girl?”

Tara wasn’t the jealous type, but now that she actually had you inside, she did feel a twinge of it inside her chest.

“No,” black painted nails grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her. “this is what I pictured when I was with Chad, with him deep inside me… unlike you, he’d be ruining me right now.”

Your tongued slid on your bottom lip, the teasing failing to cause something in you.

“Want me to fuck you, Tara? Want everyone around us hearing how good I am making you feel, instead of your perfect boyfriend?”

“At least he wouldn’t be afraid to break me.”

You tilted your head slightly to the side, hearing more water running behind your back. Taking a strong grip on her waist, you slid inside in one swift move, covering her lips with yours. Once you were all inside her, it was hard to pull out, it was warm and soft, fitting just right.

Tara moaned against your lips, feeling every inch being pulled out only to slowly go in the next second, a steady pace that felt complete with the delicious taste of your tongue on hers. After a few more testing thrusts, you began to speed up your pace, filling her to the brim and making her toes curl, head falling back against the wall, not being able to hold back as your body was begging for release.

Removing her hands from your neck, her finger gripped the top of the wall behind her, pulling her weight up as much as she could, allowing you to wrap your arms under her knees, pushing her body against the tile.

This new position made you go deeper, hitting every sensitive spot inside her, teeth chewing on her lip bottom violently enough to almost draw blood, afraid that if she stopped doing that, everyone would hear how desperate she was for you and the running water wasn’t loud enough to cover it.

You wouldn’t last longer, not with how tight Tara was clenching around you and the way she had her eyes locked to your, pupils fully blown, darkening the doe eyes. You leaned closer, sucking the plump lip once you saw a drop of blood nearly falling to the floor, soothing the bruised skin with your tongue.

In a wrong move, your cock slipped out, standing proudly between the two bodies. Tara whined; eyes half-open at the feeling of being empty. She shook her head in a silent request. You smiled, caressing her cheeks. One hand of hers came down to meet you, scratching the nape of your neck, a clear sign that was close.

“What is it, love? Need something?”

Teasingly, you held your shaft, rubbing it along her sticky slit, teasing her aching hole a few times. The small girl was desperate, the knot in the pit of her stomach turning into tears, running down her face along with fainted black mascara.

“Please, please, please, I need you inside now, I’m so close…” She cried out, trying to pull you closer.

“Look at you, so pathetic, all you can do is beg. Aren’t you ashamed to be such a slut, Tara?” Your knuckle brushed the hair off of her face, allowing you to admire the red color that filled cheeks, stained by the ruined mascara.

She nodded to your question, unable to form a single sentence as you changed positions before sliding inside her once again, keeping a slow pace, allowing her to adjust, the velvety walls welcoming you tightly. Your grip on her waist was bruising the soft skin, no longer giving a single thought about the marks you shouldn’t left on her body, you wanted her to look at them when Chad fucks her and think of you, on how good it felt to have you buried deep inside her.

With your fingers still glued to her hip bones, you fastened your pace, the wet sounds coming from your bodies and her whiny moans barely being muffled by the running water, deep down you wanted everyone to hear the way she was saying your name like a sacred mantra. It was so fucking sexy the way her nose scrunched when you hit the sweet spot inside her or the way the tip of her tongue licked on her lips, throat dry from all the deep breaths she took.

Your name falling from her lips, getting you to look at her, “I want… fuck,” she closed her eyes, holding back as long as she could, prolonging this moment. “I want you to come deep inside me. Can you do that for me?”

You couldn’t see it, but with her request, you were sure your pupils were blown out, because the smile she let out watching your expression change, was reason enough for you to fuck the life out of her. Your nails sank in the flesh of her ass, forcefully moving her body up and down your throbbing cock, the knot in the pit of your stomach getting as tighter as Tara’s walls around you.

She was close, you both were, her hands in the back of your head bringing your mouth to her neck, peppering soft kisses on the wet skin, the faint smell of her perfume filling your lungs, her moans whispered straight to your ears like the most addictive song you heard before.

When she came, her teeth sunk on your shoulder with a hard bite, nails digging the nape of your neck. You followed her, coming deep inside like she asked you to. Your legs trembled, hands gripping the top of the wall to maintain balance while the other held her waist, the small body violently twitching against yours.

Opening your eyes, little stars shone in front of you. You took deep breaths, Tara holding onto you like her life depended on it — at this point, it did. She had 0 strength to stand on her own.

When she finally let go of your shoulder, a satisfied hummed left her lips followed by a smirk-like smile, hands now delicately caressing the sides of your neck and jawline, fingers removing a few strains of wet hair from your face.

“It feels so good,” she whispered, movies her hips in a perfect circle. You chocked on your breath. “you’re all inside me and it’s so good.”

“Is this how you fantasized?”

“It’s far better.” She laughed, weakly. “You’re much better than...”

You stopped her from finishing the sentence, kissing her with ease and care, “Can you take another one for me?” Tara gave you a sly smile, the heels of her converses pulling you closer. “That’s my good girl.”

[wildflower-ramblings]

MDNI - 18+

Warnings in the tags - warnings contain spoilers.

Read at your own risk.

Simon Riley x reader

I have no explanation for this.

Simon knows everything about you.

He knows your favourite songs, your favourite movies. How you take your tea. How you sing in the shower and apologise to inanimate objects when you bump into them. The way your eyes light up when you laugh; the way you wrinkle your nose when you’re annoyed or frustrated. Knows every twitch of your mouth and flicker of your eyes, and what emotion they mean. He knows the best way to make you giggle in amusement, or to make you flush in embarrassment. Knows what little things annoy you, or upset you; and more importantly, what makes you happy.

He knows the street you grew up on, and the crack on the side walk that made you fall off your bike and scrape your knee. He knows the exact shape the scar is in now, decades later. He knows the name of your first pet, a goldfish you swore once changed colour ever so slightly and definitely had more than a three second memory. He knows the name of your best friend in kindergarten, and how you wanted to become astronauts together and be the first to land on Saturn. He knows the names of all of your cousins, even the ones you only saw at weddings and funerals. Remembers all of their birthdays, too, and remembers when and where you last saw them.

He knows each and every one of your exes, from the first boy in high school who kissed you then broke your heart, to the thankfully short relationship you’d had in university, who refused to let you meet their friends or go over to their place. About the last relationship you had, the one you thought you were going to marry, and how much it broke you when they told you they couldn’t do it any more. He knows how long it took you to pick yourself up after that, and how much strength it took to shut them down when they tried to tearfully apologise months later.

He knows every single on of your friends, very way they’ve hurt you, which friends seem to flake at the first sign of trouble, which ones will cancel plans at the last minute and leave you on your own. Which ones will stick with you through anything, who will point out the red flags you can’t see, but still be there for you even when they don’t agree with your choices.

He knows everything about your job; your favourite and least favourite coworkers, which ones will chat about your weekend with you and which ones have talked about you behind your back. How much you dread each Monday, and how much you wish you could tell your manager where to shove it. He knows how tired you look every Friday night, collapsing onto the couch with a glass of wine as soon as you can, some mindless show on TV that you swear you’re not really into, but can name every character from.

He knows your entire bed time routine, from the hot drink you make yourself to wind down to the way you dance around whilst brushing yourself. How terrible you are at remembering to take your tablets and the systems you’ve tried (and failed) to keep track of them. All your little tricks to get yourself to sleep when your mind refuses to shut down.

He knows how you are first thing in the morning, all droopy eyes and soft sighs, the sheets tangled around your body. He knows how soft you look in the golden morning light, the way you curl into your pillow when your alarm goes off, and how softly your eyelids flutter open. How you always swear you’ll get up on the first alarm, but end up sleeping an extra five or ten minutes, lulled back in by the warmth of the bed.

He knows that you sleep in nothing but an extra large t-shirt, grumbling about how uncomfortable any extra fabric makes you. How your shirt always rides up and gives him the perfect view of your body. How enticing you are, all spread out for him. How soft your skin is, and how it gives when he grabs at it, his too large hands creating dimples and leaving faint traces – his mark on you.

He knows how pretty you look when you come, your sweat-slicked skin glistening in the glow of the lamp. How breathy you sound when you’re close, the way you try – and fail – to keep your moans in so the neighbours won’t hear. How loud you can get when you truly let yourself go.

He knows exactly how you like to touch yourself and be touched, and just how quickly he can make you cum in every possible way. He knows how you feel on his fingers, how you clench around them when he finds that perfect spot inside you. How pretty you look stretched out on his cock, the slight furrow of your brow when he first pushes into you, and how it quickly morphs into soft gasps of pleasure. The way his come looks dripping out of you, and the whimpers you make when he pushes it back into your sensitive walls. How you come even harder when he cleans you up with his mouth, and how sweet you taste on his tongue.

It’s a shame you have no idea he exists.

He knows how to fix that.

I have literally never written dark content I have no idea what I'm doing

I just got the last two sentences in my head and it just unravelled from there

[konigceo]

keegan has a big dick and he knows it !!! he's so cocky abt it too :( laughing in ur face when you whimper, 's too big, can't take it' he knows you can take him tho n that's exactly why he thinks it's so cute :( even if you tear up n almost sob, you still take him to the brim !!!

speaking of !! as much as keegan looooves fucking u, he loves it when u give him handjobs just because his cock looks bigger in your hand than his :( he also loves it when u drool around his cock, trying ur best to take him down ur throat but it's just too difficult :( keegan doesn't mind though, he loves the sight of you trying ur best to take him all the way in your throat !!

keegan is a little mean tho, n he'll pat the side of your cheek to tell you to take him deeper :( he's still pretty cute tho, n he'll rub your head nice n softly when you take all of his load in ur mouth !! he makes you wait a while before you can swallow tho :( he loves the way your cheeks slightly puff up, keeping his seed safe in ur mouth♡

[2kiran]

keegan with a mask kink meeting masked!reader. when he finds out that you’re so strong too? god, he's rubbing his thighs together that do nothing to ease the ache. you don't interact with him that much, rarely meeting his eyes and he thinks he's sick for getting off to the thought of having to beg for your attention.

[tonyspank]

WH0 R U 2???

Summary: Tara wakes up at her attractive Professor’s home.

Warnings: 18+ smut, g!p reader (literally think r is a service top??? idk? sorry for the dom’s & subs 😭)

A/N: pt.3 will not but smutty but bloody (there are different ghostfaces who r y’all suspecting?) also the smut scene was inspired by my b-day gift @wol-fica i love u

part 1

Tara woke up with the world's biggest headache. When she sat up in the random bed she had just awakened in, she realized she was in a completely unfamiliar room. The walls were white, with some paintings here and there, and the room was filled with a faint scent of lavender.

Tara left the bed, her head pounding with each step she took. She stumbled towards the door, trying to remember how she ended up in this strange place.

As she makes her way down the hallway, coffee begins to fill her nostrils. She follows the scent and finds herself in a cozy kitchen, where a pot of freshly brewed coffee sits on the counter. "You're awake, a voice says from behind her.

Startled, Tara turns around to see her professor, and suddenly, all of her memories rush back to her.

"Leaving already?" Frankie asks, raising an eyebrow. Tara hesitates, unsure of how to respond. She just nods, "Yeah, my... my rides here." Frankie keeps his gaze fixed on her, his expression unreadable. Tara can feel the weight of his scrutiny, making her even more uncomfortable.

"Oh damn, well, let me walk you out." Frankie offers, breaking the silence. Tara's heart races as they make their way towards the exit, unsure of what's going on. It was obvious Frankie wanted to get into her pants; he'd been following her the entire night.

You notice Tara at the exit, looking slightly flustered and uneasy. You quickly exit your car and walk to her. "You're her ride?" A brown-haired boy asks you.

"Yeah, I'm her ride," you confirm, giving the boy a curious look. The brown-haired boy gives you a skeptical look before reluctantly stepping aside, allowing you to approach Tara. As you reach her side, you offer a reassuring smile, hoping to ease her discomfort.

Tara's eyes drop to your attire, taking in your sleepwear. A wife-beater and black boxers that matched your black Nike socks. You notice this, "Sorry, I just woke up about five minutes ago."

"All good...Professor." Tara smiles. You shake your head, "Y/N is just fine. You're in my kitchen, after all. No need for formalities." Tara blushes and nods, "Right, sorry. Y/N it is then."

You chuckle softly, "No need to apologize, Tara. Can I offer you some coffee?" Tara gratefully accepts the offer, "I could definitely use a cup. Thank you, Y/N." She takes a seat at the kitchen table as you start pouring a fresh cup of coffee.

"Do you need me to drop you off?" Tara tries to take a sip of her coffee, but it's too hot, causing her to wince in pain spilling a bit on her hand. "Shit! That's hot!" Tara exclaims, quickly pulling her hand away from the cup. You rush to grab a napkin, softly grasping her hand and gently wiping away the spilled coffee.

"But, um, yeah, I'd love a ride if you don't mind," Tara mutters, ignoring the fluttering of her heart as you touch her hand. She tries to hide her blush by taking a deep breath and looking away, but the warmth of your touch lingers.

"Of course." Your phone begins ringing, interrupting the moment. You quickly apologize and grab your phone from the kitchen counter. You answer the phone without looking at the caller ID. A deep voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Y/N." You scratch your head, trying to place the voice. It sounds vaguely familiar, but you can't quite place it.

The voice clears its throat, and your ear is soon filled with Laura's laugh. "Haven't you watched Stab?"

"Ohhh! Yeah, I just did yesterday." You chuckle, realizing that the deep voice was an imitation of a character from the movie. "How's your mom? She doing better?"

Laura's laughter subsides as she replies, "She's slowly recovering, thanks for asking. The doctors say she should be back on her feet in a few weeks." You feel relieved to hear the positive update about Laura's mom and express your well wishes for her continued recovery.

"Anywho! I was just calling because I wanted to know how your first lecture was. Did everyone behave?"

You chuckle and respond, "Well, it was definitely an interesting experience. The students were well-behaved, and I was actually surprised by their level of engagement. It seems like they're all eager to learn and participate in class discussions."

Laura hums over the phone, "Are you sure you're talking about my students?" You laugh and say, "Seriously. They were great." Laura pauses for a moment before replying, "That's good...I have to go now, take care, Y/N."

You bid Laura farewell and promise to keep her updated on any future classroom developments. Tara speaks up when you set down your phone, "Was that Professor Crane?" You nod and say, "Yes, it was. She was just checking in on you guys."

Tara nods, taking a sip of her now slightly cooled-down coffee. "I'm going to take a shower, and I'll be back in a bit. Let me know whenever you're ready to leave."

"Wait, uh, do you know where my phone is?" Tara asks, glancing around the room. You remember plugging it up near the kitchen counter when you arrived home yesterday.

You point towards the kitchen counter and say, "I think it's over there, by the sink." Tara thanks you and heads towards the kitchen to retrieve it, but her head turns as she watches you leave the room, pulling your tank top over your head, revealing your toned back.

Blushing slightly, Tara quickly averts her gaze and focuses on finding her phone.

When Tara finally finds her phone, she realizes that she has missed several calls and messages, mostly from Sam.

But her heart truly drops when she realizes your name is at the top of her messages, remembering that she did indeed text you drunk the previous night.

Tara's mind races as she tries to recall what she said, hoping she hasn't embarrassed herself or said anything inappropriate. "You've got to be kidding me."

Tara mutters under her breath, scrolling through her messages with you. This was so embarrassing, and she couldn't believe she had let herself get so out of control.

"The hot professor whose filling in for Ms.Crane? What the fuck?" Tara's eyes widen in disbelief as she reads her own words. She had confessed her attraction to her substitute professor, not realizing how much she had revealed in her drunken state. Panic sets in as she wonders what your reaction to the message might have been.

Tara's phone dings, indicating a new message.

Mindy: Tara where the hell r u?

Mindy:  Sam is literally is losing her marbles

Shit.

Tara: im about to leave in about 15 minutes

Mindy: that didn't answer my question lollll

Tara: just tell sam im on the way

Mindy: omg you're at professor y/ln's house

Tara's heart races as she reads Mindy's message. How did Mindy know she was at your house? She quickly types a response, trying to come up with something to get Mindy off her back. 

Tara: wtf? no?

Tara: ill ttyl

-

The next couple of months consisted of Tara staying back after every lecture to talk to you. Now, you didn't exactly mind, but it did make you wonder why she was suddenly so interested in your company. Tara wouldn't talk about her studies, rather, she would ask you about your personal life, your hobbies, and your opinions on various topics.

Or whenever you'd be leaving campus or just arriving, Tara would leave her friends, jog over to you, and strike up a conversation. It seemed like she always found a reason to be near you, whether it was wanting to walk together or simply to share a funny story. Her genuine interest in getting to know you better was both flattering and intriguing.

"That's all for today, guys." You tell the class, packing up your things. Everyone begins leaving—well, everyone except for Tara. You shuffle your papers together, double-checking that you have everything, before looking up to find Tara still standing by your desk.

"Did you watch The Hereditary?" She had mentioned the movie a few times before, and you could tell she really wanted you to watch it. You smile and reply, "Yes, I did! Scared the shit out of me."

Tara laughs, "I thought you said you liked scary movies?" You begin walking toward the door. "I do!"

"What's your favorite scary movie?" Tara asks, genuinely curious. You pause for a moment, thinking of all the horror films you've seen over the years. "Hmm, that's a tough one," you say, pondering. "Maybe Chucky."

"You're joking," Tara says, raising an eyebrow. "Chucky? The killer doll? That's more of a cheesy horror movie than a scary one." You shrug and defend your choice. "Well, it scared me when I was younger. Plus, it has that nostalgic factor for me."

Tara chuckles and shakes her head playfully, saying, "Alright, if you say so. But I'll have to introduce you to some truly terrifying films one day."

You smile, holding the door open for the shorter girl. "Sure, T." Tara ignores the fluttering in her stomach at the nickname, striking up another conversation. "You heading home?"

You nod and reply, "Yeah, I was planning on making this salmon dish I found a recipe for. The sauce is supposed to be really flavorful, and I've been craving seafood lately." Tara hums, "Sounds fun."

You pause your walk, making eye contact with your student. "Maybe you could come...?"

Tara's eyes widen with surprise, but a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "That sounds like a plan," she says, "What time?"

You check your watch and say, "How about around 7 p.m.? That should give me enough time to prepare everything." Tara nods eagerly, "Okay." You thank her and continue walking, "See you, T."

-

You were more than tipsy, this might have been the most fun you've had in a while. "I feel like a bad influence." You joke to Tara, pouring her another glass of wine. Tara laughs, "You're a perfect influence. You know how to have a good time."

You shake your head, standing up. "You can sit in the living room, I'm just gonna clear the table." Tara smiles and takes a sip of her wine. "Don't worry about it, I'll help you clean up."

Tara sets down her glass, standing up and helping you gather the dirty dishes and leftover food. Everything about this feels so domestic like you two are a married couple tidying up after a dinner party.

You start washing the dishes while Tara dries them and puts them away. The conversation flows effortlessly, making the task feel less like a chore and more like a shared experience.

On the last plate, you splash some soapy water onto Tara's shirt, causing her to let out a surprised gasp. "Oops, sorry about that!" you jokingly apologize, grinning mischievously.

Tara playfully flicks some water back at you, making you let out a laugh. "Oh, it's on now!" you exclaim, grabbing a nearby dish towel and flicking it towards Tara.

Tara runs out of the kitchen, laughing and dodging the dish towel, her wet shirt clinging to her as she goes. You turn off the water and chase after her, determined to catch her. While you reach the living room, Tara takes a sharp turn, causing you to stumble for a moment.

You quickly regain your balance and continue the chase, both of you enjoying the playful pursuit.

"I give up!" Tara calls out, breathless and giggling, as she collapses onto the couch. You slow down and join her, catching your breath and collapsing beside her.

You glance at her shirt, "Do you want one of my shirts?" Tara looks down at her damp shirt and shakes her head, still catching her breath. "No, I think I'll be fine," she replies with a smile.

Your eyes fall back on Tara, her cheeks flushed and her hair slightly disheveled from the chase. You know you shouldn't be thinking about your student in this way, but it's hard to ignore the undeniable chemistry between you. And she was absolutely gorgeous.

You're caught up in your thoughts, you don't even notice how your body is subconsciously scooting closer to her, until your knees are almost touching. The air between you feels charged with tension, and you can't help but wonder if she feels it too.

A part of you wants to reach out and brush a strand of hair behind her ear, but professional boundaries hold you back.

Tara turns her head slightly, her eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, you both share a knowing smile. Fuck, why did she have to look at you like that?

The intensity of the moment lingers, making it difficult to focus on anything else. You find yourself questioning the consequences of acting on this undeniable connection.

Tara leans in, and you follow behind slowly. You don't notice what you're doing until your noses brush against each other, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

Tara parts her lips slightly, her warm breath tickling your skin. You place a hand on her leg, closing the distance between you. Your lips meet in a passionate and electrifying kiss, leaving you breathless and craving more.

You place your hand on Tara's waist, pulling her closer to you and allowing her to straddle you. Tara can't help but respond, her hands finding their way to your hair as she pulls you in even closer.

When you pull away, your heart is racing as if you had just run a marathon. You knew what you were doing was wrong, but in that moment, it felt so right. The chemistry between you and Tara was undeniable, and the desire for each other was too strong to resist.

Your hand rises to Tara's face, your thumb tracing over her soft, plump lips. She closes her eyes, and a moan escapes her mouth. You kiss her lightly, your tongue tracing the outline of her mouth. She responds with a slow, passionate kiss, her lips trembling as you pull away.

"Please," she mumbles, grinding her hips against yours. "Fuck, T." What was this girl doing to you? Without hesitation, you capture her lips once more, this time with an electrifying fervor that leaves you both breathless. In that moment, you knew that there was no going back, you were stuck under her spell.

Your hands slither under her shirt, exploring the curves of her body, feeling the heat radiating from her skin. She moans softly, encouraging you to continue your exploration, and you do.

Skillfully, you unclasp her bra, and your fingers trace the outline of her breasts, teasing and caressing every inch of her sensitive skin. She arches her back, pressing herself closer to you, craving more of your touch.

You lift her shirt, revealing her bare chest, and your lips eagerly find their way to her exposed skin. The taste of her drives you wild, and you lose yourself in the moment, savoring every sweet and intoxicating sensation.

Your hands fly back to her waist, lifting her slightly as your lips trail to her stomach, leaving a trail of soft kisses along the way.

She lets out a soft moan, her fingers tangling in your hair as she surrenders to the pleasure coursing through her body. Tara's breath hitches when you stand up, picking her up with ease. You carry her effortlessly to the bedroom, her legs wrapped around your waist, her body pressed against yours.

One thing is, you don't make it to the bed. Tara's back is now pressed against a wall, her heart pounding in her chest. You lean in closer, capturing her lips with yours as your hands roam over her body. You couldn't get enough.

You flip Tara, pressing her against the wall with a newfound intensity. Tara gasp, her eyes rolling back in pleasure, feeling your strong grip on her hips and your lips trailing down her neck.

Your hands trail to her jeans button, fumbling to undo it as the passion between you increases. Tara's breath hitches as you slide down her pants, along with her underwear, exposing her bare skin to the cool air.

Without hesitating, you drop to your knees, eager to taste her. A loud slap is heard, followed by a gasp of surprise. Tara bites down on her lip, balling up her fist against the wall, feeling you spread her legs for better access.

You lean in closer, your tongue teasing her entrance as Tara's moans fill the room. Oh, shit. You were officially addicted to this girl. Every touch and every sound she made only fueled your obsession for her.

You couldn't get enough of the way she responded to your touch, her body arching and trembling with pleasure. Or the way she tasted, leaving a permanent mark on your tongue.

"Fuck..." Tara gasps, the side of her face flat against the wall as her hips buck against your mouth. You remove one of your hands from her ass, holding her hips steady as you continue to devour her.

Tara whines in response, reaching behind to tangle her fingers in your hair, urging you to keep going. Her moans grow louder, and her grip tightens. "I'm so close, shit..."

You intensify your movements, your tongue skillfully exploring every inch of her, pushing her closer to the edge. Tara's breath becomes ragged, you grip her with greater force, and she becomes more and more undone, on the brink of exploding in pleasure.

And just as she's about to tip over the edge, she lets out a guttural cry, her body convulsing in ecstasy.

"Y/N! Shit!"

You stand up, and Tara catches her breath, her body still trembling from the intense orgasm.

While Tara attempts to compose herself, you unbuckle your belt and slowly remove your pants and underwear, revealing your own heightened state of arousal.

Tara's eyes widen when she feels your intense desire pressing against her. You press a kiss onto her head, whispering, "I need you, Tara."

Tara turns her head, meeting you with a lustful gaze. Her lips parted slightly as she whispers, "I want you too, Y/N." You place a soft kiss on the freckled face that you've come to adore before taking yourself, rubbing against her in a slow, teasing motion.

Tara's wetness lubricates you, allowing you to slip right in with a breathful gasp. As you enter her, Tara arches her back and lets out a low moan, her body responding eagerly to your touch.

The feeling of her tightness around you heightens the nirvana, driving you both insane.

You pick up the pace, your hips meeting hers in a delicious rhythm. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through both of your bodies—a symphony of desire and passion.

Tara's arm reaches around, her nails dig into your neck while her moans grow louder and more desperate with every movement.

Tara's hand falls back against the wall as she braces herself against the overwhelming pleasure. Your own hand falls on top of hers, and for a second, Tara finds herself caught between the intensified sensations and the tender touch of your hand.

She exhales a breath of pleasure, and her eyes roll back in pleasure. You lean in to kiss her neck, and she moans in response. You move your lips down to her shoulder, leaving a trail of soft kisses along her skin. "You feel so good, T." You groan, your voice thick with please.

This time, without warning, Tara lets go, a long and loud moan escaping her lips as she arches her back in ecstasy.

She collapses against your chest, her eyes half closed, catching her breath as her body trembles with satisfaction. You hold her tightly, savoring the intimate moment shared between you both.

As you slowly untangle yourselves from the intimate embrace, Tara wraps her arms around your neck and plants a soft kiss on your lips.

You smile into it, placing a hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer. The lingering taste of her lips lingers on yours, igniting a drive for more.

Tara moves onto her knees with your help, never breaking eye contact. Her hand wraps around your pulsating shaft before she kisses the tip, her tongue swirling around it.

The sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, making you moan softly. You grab Tara's hair, guiding her movements as she takes you deeper into her mouth. "That feels great, shit..." you mutter, throwing your head back.

Tara's expert tongue continues to work its wonders, teasing and exploring every inch of you.

You begin moving your hips in rhythm with Tara's movements, finding a steady and pleasurable pace.

The hallway fills with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the wet, persistent slurping of Tara's mouth. "Yeah...just like that, Tara."

Your grip on her hair tightens, urging her on as she eagerly takes you deeper, her eyes watering at the sensation. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

With a grunt, you cum hard, your body shuddering in pleasure as Tara's lips move over your shaft. She keeps sucking until you finally pull away, a satisfied smile on your face.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. With a grunt, you cum hard, your body shuddering in pleasure as Tara's lips move over your shaft. She keeps sucking until you finally pull away, a satisfied smile on your face.

Tara can't help but think about how this night will shift your relationship. She wonders if this newfound intimacy will bring you closer or create complications that she didn't want to deal with. As you catch your breath, Tara's thoughts wander to the potential consequences of crossing this line.