#y/n maximoff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hopelesslygaysstuff · 1 month ago

Text

𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑀𝑒

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: You decide to pay for your sugar mommy's meal, and she reminds you of your place.

content warnings: BDSM, impact play, hair pulling, restraints, cunnilingus, fucking machine, buttplug, dumbification, subspace, edging, orgasm denial

word count: 7.4k+

masterlist

“Baby?” Wanda calls, “Are you ready?”

Something falls in the bathroom, Wanda’s eyes flicking over to the door in mild concern. You appear, your cheeks lightly flushed as you hold a towel loosely around your body. Wanda can’t help but trail her eyes down your frame, raising her eyebrow in a silent command.

You drop the towel, biting your lip as you make your way over to her. “Sorry, I dropped my lotion.”

Green eyes lock on yours, Wanda’s pupils dilating as she takes in your nudity. Your nipples are already hard, your skin soft and smelling faintly of her vanilla-scented body wash. She loved it when you used her products.

It was one of her rules, actually. You were required to use any product Wanda instructed you to, which consisted mainly of her own -expensive- things. You didn’t mind, you loved being taken care of, in every way.

Leaning down, you gently kiss her, smiling as her hand makes its way to your waist, her fingers digging in and urging you closer. This is your favorite side of her, the one that craves you. You love her fingers pulling you in, her lips on your skin, her eyes solely on yours.

“I’ve laid out a dress for you,” she murmurs, her voice husky and low. It sends a pleasant warmth down your spine that pools in your gut. “Go put it on.”

Her tone is firm as she gently pushes you toward the bed. You catch her eyes lingering on your nude form, glancing over you through the mirror as she applies the last bits of her makeup. Grinning to yourself, you decide to put on a show for her, swaying your hips as you saunter over to the bed.

There it is. The dress she’d picked out for you. It was beautiful, dark red and lacy, a long slit in the side that practically reached your hips. It had a neckline that dipped dangerously low, enough to tease the sight of your chest but not too much to expose you indecently. Just the way Wanda liked it. Lying next to the dress was a pair of black heels, the bottom of them painted bright red, a sight you’d become accustomed to.

Biting your lip to hide your excitement, you slowly pull the dress over your head, moving your hips slowly to fully pull it over your body. You note the lack of panties or a bra on the bed, your cheeks flushing slightly at the thought of sitting through dinner without any undergarments. Luckily, the dress supported your chest well, your breasts sitting comfortably with the extra padded support.

“Perfect,” Wanda murmurs, having spun around to watch you.

Smiling, you bask in her attention as you slowly spin around, adjusting your hair slightly. Your zipper has been caught halfway up your back, the small piece of metal resting just below your shoulder blades.

Wanda gestures to you, a silent command.

You obey, snagging the heels from off the bed and padding toward her. You feel giggly, and a bit like you’re playing dress-up, but Wanda looks at you with utter adoration; her normally serious expression is nowhere to be found. Her eyes are wide and unguarded, her hands firm as she beckons you closer, but not stern and unforgiving as they usually are.

Biting your bottom lip, you decide that you quite like this side of her. It was almost… adorable.

As if she could read your thoughts, Wanda’s eyes snap up to yours from where they’d been lingering around your neckline. “Sit on my lap, darling.”

Blinking, you clear your throat as a strange shyness creeps over you.

“Now.”

Wanda’s tone turns slightly icy, her eyebrows furrowing slightly at your hesitance. She doesn’t like to be disobeyed.

“Yes, ma’am,” you murmur, noting the way her face smooths at your words. Quickly, you drop onto her lap, sitting sideways since your dress won’t allow you to straddle her as you usually did. The heels slip from your fingers, landing on the carpet with a soft thump as Wanda’s hand snakes around your waist.

Her green eyes peer into yours, studying your face. You notice the subtle makeup she’s put on, her eyelids darkened seductively with dark gold eyeshadow, her black eyeliner small and precise. Her lips are also dark, a matte red color coating them. You wonder if it would stain your skin, then promptly push that thought to the back of your mind, lest you leak through your expensive dress.

“I have some jewelry for you,” Wanda murmurs, her other hand coming up to trace the thin gold chain fastened permanently around your neck. She’d gifted it to you last year, her initials subtly engraved into the chain, a private sign of her ownership of you. Wanda wore a similar necklace, your initials also engraved into the silver metal glittering around her neck.

Smiling, you lean in until your lips are mere inches from hers, “I love it when you dress me, Wanda.”

“I know you do,” Wanda smirks, her hand dropping to grip your thigh possessively for a moment, before she reaches for some jewelry she’s laid out on the vanity in front of her. Her fingers send heat down your spine as she grazes them lightly across your skin, clasping a few necklaces around your neck. She adjusts them, laying the metal perfectly on your chest before she taps your hands in a silent command.

Obediently, you raise your hands, watching her slip various rings on them. Somehow, Wanda always manages to match your jewelry to your outfit perfectly. You’re in awe every time, and you no longer protest when she demands to dress you.

Green eyes flit over your ears, Wanda nodding slightly in approval as she takes in your various earrings. “Perfect,” she mutters, her hand coming back down to your thigh.

“Yes, you are.”

“Don’t deflect, darling. What do you say when I compliment you?” Wanda’s tone is light, but her eyes are intense, her fingers squeezing your thigh.

“Thank you, Wanda.”

Smirking, Wanda releases her hold on your thigh. “Good girl.” She moves to stand, helping you off her lap and adjusting your hair to fall perfectly over your shoulders. “Now put those heels on and meet me by the cars.”

Wanda lightly kisses you, careful not to ruin her lipstick -or yours- before she playfully squeezes your waist and walks out the door.

The heels slip on quickly, perfectly molded to your feet. You take a moment, looking at yourself in the mirror and willing your blush to go away. You’re unsuccessful.

Wanda is beautiful. She stands next to the passenger door of her favorite car, opening it and ushering you in. The exterior is gleaming, the dark red gloss standing out. The interior is even nicer, somehow, all black leather with red trim. It smells as fresh as the day she bought it.

Taking a moment, you admire Wanda’s outfit, her silver jewelry and sharply cut jacket. She’s several inches taller than you, her heels clacking softly on the ground as she shuts the door softly before rounding the car to the driver’s side.

The drive to the restaurant is relatively short. You steal glances at Wanda the entire time, loving the comforting weight of her hand on your thigh.

You’ve grown used to being pampered by her. She makes a lot of decisions for the two of you, and you love her control over you. You love providing for her as well, insisting on cooking meals whenever you can. Between your part-time job at a bookstore and your relationship, you were pretty okay with your life.

Wanda would have preferred you to be home all the time, especially when she often worked from her home office, but you’d insisted on keeping your job. You liked it, there was a bookstore cat named Freckles, and your manager was really nice. Plus, you loved being surrounded by books all day.

Shifting in your seat slightly, you bite your lip in excitement as you feel your credit card sitting snug between the fabric of your dress and your breasts. You’d been saving up for months, knowing that Wanda had expensive tastes. This restaurant was meant for upper-class patrons, so you’d prepared well in advance. You wanted to surprise her tonight; after all, it wasn’t often you got to return the favor of spoiling Wanda.

Wanda never lets you pay for anything. You'll be changing that tonight.

The restaurant is just as you remembered. Low lighting and soft voices that help you relax further into Wanda’s hand on the small of your back. It feels safer this way, more intimate.

“Right this way, Ma’am,” the waiter says, his voice quiet as he gestures for Wanda to follow. Her hand is splayed on your lower back, the warmth from her fingers propelling you forward as the waiter leads you to a table near the back.

The chair doesn’t make a sound and Wanda slides it out, gesturing for you to sit. Her hands briefly touch your shoulders before she pushes the chair in firmly, her stride elegant as she walks to the chair across from you.

“Two glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon, from the Robert Mondavi Winery Reserve,” she murmurs, the waiter nodding dutifully before striding away.

Those green eyes stare into yours, a soft smile playing on Wanda’s lips.

“You look beautiful tonight, darling.”

“Thank you, Wanda,” you whisper, blushing at the praise. You briefly touch the necklace resting between your collarbones. “I think you look amazing.”

Wanda smiles warmly at that, her hand sliding across the table to clasp yours. Her fingers are soft as you idly play with her rings.

The waiter returns, showing the bottle before Wanda nods at him. He pours the wine, standing still as Wanda takes a sip. His eyes are nervous, but Wanda simply nods again before quietly ordering food for the both of you.

You knew what she was going to order. You’d meticulously saved up in order to cover the bill, plus a generous tip. A flood of relief fills you when she doesn’t stray from her usual order, but you cover it up with a smile.

“How was work?”

Wanda begins speaking, her thumb running over the back of your hand as she does. You listen diligently, unsure of half the things she’s referring to but enjoying yourself nonetheless. The waiter returns some time later with steaming food, and you and Wanda make idle conversation while you eat.

It is one of the best meals you could have asked for. Perfectly cooked salmon with a side of quinoa salad and rice. There are complementary breadsticks, and you eagerly take two. The wine pairs nicely with the food, but you’re not a huge nerd about it like Wanda is. She knows all the best combinations.

Truly, it all tastes the same to you. But, you’d never tell her that.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” you say, wiping your mouth politely.

Wanda simply nods, sipping her wine. You’re a much faster eater than she is, and this is one of the times you’re grateful for the skill. Squeezing her hand briefly, you stand up and walk toward the restrooms.

Once you’ve rounded the corner, your heart begins to race. Glancing back, you see Wanda taking a small bite of her salad.

Perfect.

“Excuse me,” you say quietly, walking up to the waiter standing near the kitchen window. He looks up, surprised.

“How can I help you, ma’am?” He asks, politely averting his eyes when you dig into your dress for your credit card.

“I’d like to pay for my wife’s and my meal.”

He nods, gingerly taking your card. You try not to giggle, smoothing your face over when he nods and briskly walks into the backroom. Casually, you fix your hair, careful not to lean against the wall. Wanda had helped you with your posture, and you could still remember her lessons in the back of your mind.

“All set, ma’am.” The waiter returns, handing you your card back.

“Oh, thank you,” you murmur, placing it back into your dress and biting your lip to stifle your smile when he looks away again. You pull out two hundred-dollar bills, handing them to him. “Thank you.”

He smiles politely as he accepts the bills, nodding at you.

“I’d prefer you keep this from my wife until the end of the meal,” you say, watching his eyebrows raise slightly. “I’m surprising her.”

“Ah,” he smiles wider this time. “Always happy to be a part of a surprise, ma’am. My lips are sealed.”

With that, you walk back to your seat. You make sure not to walk too quickly, lest Wanda becomes suspicious. She always has a way of figuring out what you’ve been up to.

“There you are, darling,” she smiles at you and stands, pulling your chair out again. “I was beginning to worry.”

You flush, sitting down again and turning to look up at her. “Just decided to freshen up a bit, I wanted to look my absolute best for you.”

Leaning down, Wanda places a soft kiss against your cheek. “You always look wonderful, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Wanda.”

Smiling at you, Wanda returns to her seat and grasps the stem of her wine glass. You mirror her action, bringing the glass to your lips and taking a deep sip. You’re going to need some liquid confidence to get through the night once Wanda discovers what you’ve done.

One thing you’d learned early on in your relationship was that Wanda liked to be the one in charge of things. You didn’t mind, especially in the bedroom, but you’d always felt just a tiny bit disappointed when you wanted to spoil her and she’d refuse. She’d just offer her own card, raising an eyebrow at you and firmly reminding you that she was there to take care of you.

Sometimes it felt like you weren’t contributing anything of worth to the relationship.

“Darling?” Wanda’s green eyes are piercing, locked on your face. “Are you alright? You look… morose.”

You shake away your thoughts. You’re sitting here with the beautiful woman that you married, on a nice date that you’ve just paid for. Get a grip.

“Yes,” you say, smiling reassuringly at her. “I just got lost in my thoughts, you know how that happens sometimes.”

Laughing slightly, you watch Wanda’s lips quirk up slightly, but something tells you that she won’t let the subject go that easily. You reach across the table, grabbing her hand and making sure she can see down the front of your dress.

“Baby, I’m fine. Really.”

Green eyes flit down, before they glance back up at you, her eyebrow raised. “Alright. Just stay present with me, okay?”

You nod eagerly, smiling brightly at her before sitting up again.

Under the table, you feel the top of Wanda’s heel brush against your leg, advancing slowly as it makes its way above your knees and further up your thigh. “You’ll pay for that stunt,” Wanda murmurs.

Your heart stops for a moment, your mind flashing back to your credit card, before you realize she’s talking about your adventurous moment when she got a nice full look at your chest.

“I understand,” you quip, adjusting in your seat to spread your legs further just slightly, watching the way Wanda’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. That’s right, two could play this game. You smiled victoriously.

“How do you feel about going to the speakeasy a bit further downtown?” Wanda asks, finishing the rest of her wine. You mirror her actions, feeling the pleasant buzz under your skin.

You nod, and Wanda smiles at you, grabbing her clutch.

“I’ll be right back.”

Watching her leave to find the waiter, you wait anxiously. You can just barely see her across the restaurant, her red hair glowing slightly in the warm lighting. She’s exchanging low words with the waiter, before he gestures over towards your table. Two sets of eyes turn towards you, one apologetic and the other unreadable.

You’re focused on the green pair, barely noticing the cash Wanda hands the waiter as a tip.

She advances slowly, moving through the restaurant as her gaze never leaves yours. “Darling…” she says when she reaches your seat, her hand on your shoulder. It’s firm, not painful, but her fingers dig in just enough to express how she’s feeling.

“Surprise,” you say, smiling up at her. You’re proud of yourself; your voice didn’t even waver. Standing, you bite your lip as you gaze at her, assessing her expression.

She reveals nothing, her hand snaking around your waist and guiding you toward the front door. What would normally be a comforting action sends pleasant shivers down your spine.

Wanda remains silent all the way to the car, opening the passenger door and ushering you in. Sliding into the driver's seat, she starts the car before letting out a breath.

“Explain.”

“I wanted to treat you for once,” you say stubbornly. You might as well have crossed your arms and pouted, but you didn’t.

Looking at you, Wanda sighs. “Darling, why do you always fight me on this topic?”

You don’t answer, looking out of your window as Wanda begins backing up the car, the low hum of the engine comforting. The city flashes before you as she drives, people milling about, and different lights hitting your eyes.

“Sweetheart,” Wanda says, something in her tone telling you to turn and look at her. “You know that I appreciate it when you want to pay for me, don’t you?”

You furrow your brow. “I… well, I always thought it just annoyed you.”

“It does annoy me,” Wanda shoots a look at you. “But, that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do.”

Then, she sighs. “In this relationship, you do so much for me. One of the only ways I feel that I can take care of you is by paying and making sure you don’t have to worry about anything financially. Do you understand?”

“I- but I don’t do that much for you?”

Wanda laughs then, the sound surprising you. “Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea, do you?”

Shaking your head, you watch her as you wait for an explanation.

“Lift up the hem of your dress.”

It’s a command, and you blink at the sudden turn of events. Still, you know better than to disobey Wanda. Slowly, you drag the hem up until the tops of your thighs are revealed.

“Spread your legs.”

“Wanda…”

She shoots you a look. You spread your legs.

“Touch yourself.”

At that, you suck in a breath. Trailing your fingers down, you collect some of your arousal on your fingertips, surprised at how wet you are. Then, you begin circling your clit, nice and slow, just the way Wanda likes it.

“Good girl. Keep doing that.”

Wanda smiles, glancing down at your fingers every so often as she makes her way out of the city. You want to ask about the speakeasy, but choose to remain silent. She seems to be proving a point somehow, and you wait for her to explain.

“We’re going home, where I’m going to make us some drinks and you’re going to sit on my lap while we make a new rule. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Smiling at that, Wanda reaches over, placing a hand on your thigh. It makes your skin buzz hotly, and you resist the urge to circle your clit faster.

“This is one of many things you do for me, darling. Your submission is everything to me, and you offer it so willingly. I’ve been able to freely express my dominant side with you, and you’ve never judged me for the things I desire in a sexual dynamic. You were made for me.”

You nod, realization creeping into your mind. Wanda isn’t finished.

“You have your job, which I allowed because I know how happy it makes you, and I want you to have a life outside of me. As much as I would like to keep you for myself, I know how much you adore that bookshop. At home, you cook for me, not because I’ve asked you to, but because you genuinely enjoy cooking. That is something you provide for me.”

Wanda quirks an eyebrow at you. “When I get home, what is the first thing you do?”

Blushing, you respond, your words slightly breathy. “I take your coat and purse, give you a kiss, and walk with you to your home office while you tell me about your day.”

Nodding, Wanda continues. “That is another thing you provide for me, sweetheart.”

She continues to list things, small, mundane things that you hadn’t considered to be a big deal. Evidently, they meant the world to Wanda. The way you helped her with laundry, when you’d rub her shoulders after a long meeting, make her a drink in the evening, and especially when you’d follow her orders.

“Like I said, you were made for me. You do so much for our relationship.”

“So do you,” you protest, stopping yourself from saying more when she shoots a sharp look your way.

“One of the main ways I feel that I can contribute and take care of you in this relationship is with my income. You know I make a lot, darling, I’ve never hidden that from you. I work long days so that I can come home and make your life comfortable.”

“Oh,” you say, finally understanding.

“Please, darling. Let me use my money on you. That’s why I work so hard.”

You nod, unable to speak as you realize why Wanda was so insistent on paying for everything.

“I see you finally understand,” Wanda says, glancing down again. “Go faster.”

Blinking, you circle your clit faster, biting your lip at the pleasure it brings. You take a deep, shuddering breath, sure that you’re leaking through your dress. The air in the car becomes warm, and the next time that Wanda looks at you, her pupils are blown.

“Keep going,” she murmurs, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. “If you cum before we get home, your punishment will be worse.”

You whine, nodding as you keep your pace. You try desperately to think of anything other than the woman seated beside you, her grip firm on your thigh as you feel your pleasure building.

The fingers on your thigh grip harshly as you slow your pace slightly, trying to stave off your incoming orgasm.

“What did I say?” Wanda hisses, her eyes glancing sharply at you.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry… what?”

You shudder, feeling little bolts of pleasure crashing through you. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“Hmm,” Wanda pretends to think, watching as you increase your pace again. “I don’t think that’s a strong enough title, do you?”

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

Wanda smiles, satisfied. “Good girl. Keep going. Please your Mistress.”

You let out a low moan at her words, feeling your pleasure increase tenfold as she calls herself that title. You try to stop it, your orgasm. But Wanda is talking, telling you that you’re doing so well for her as her fingers slowly inch up your thigh, her vanilla scent engulfing you as your muscles spasm, white-hot pleasure overtaking you.

You fingers stall, your orgasm coursing through you as your clit pulses. Wanda makes a noise, her fingers grabbing yours and moving them back to your raw clit. “Did I tell you to stop?”

“No, I’m sorry, Mistress.”

Continuing, you let your fingers wring every last drop of pleasure from you, aware of the fact that you’ve just made your punishment worse. You truly couldn’t help it. I mean, it’s not your fault that your wife was insanely hot and her words were able to bring you to orgasm, was it?

You’re working your way up to a second orgasm when Wanda pulls into the driveway of your shared home. As the garage shuts behind you, she turns the engine off, her hand grabbing yours and gently pulling it away from your swollen clit.

Wrapping her fingers around your wrist, Wanda brings your hand to her lips, maintaining eye contact with you as she sucks the arousal off of your fingers.

“I can smell your arousal,” she murmurs, releasing your fingers with a soft pop. “I’m going to get changed. By the time I come back, I want you nude and kneeling on the floor in front of the couch, with two drinks in your hands. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.” You watch her exit the car and round the side to open your door.

Wanda disappears into the bedroom, and you quickly make your way to the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients to make Wanda’s favourite cocktail.

It isn’t long before you’re finished, garnishing each drink with a maraschino cherry. You walk carefully to the living room, setting the drinks on two coasters near the couch. Wanda didn’t like it when you forgot about the coasters. You didn’t blame her, all of the furniture in your home was expensive, much of it was hand-crafted.

Stripping out of your beautiful dress, you fold it neatly and place it on the chair nearby, your heels sitting next to it. You remove all of your jewelry, except for the permanent gold chain around your neck.

Grabbing the drinks, you kneel in front of the couch, facing the cushions. It’s a position that Wanda had trained into you, and you’re well aware of the wetness clinging to your center as you wait.

Footsteps sound out, heels clicking towards you. As much as you want to, you don’t dare turn from your position, knowing that Wanda liked the thrill of suspense.

“I hope you enjoyed that orgasm in the car,” Wanda says, stepping around you to sit on the couch. Your mouth waters as she comes into view. “It will be your only orgasm tonight.”

Your eyes snap up to hers, but you remain silent, her eyes hard and unforgiving. The lingerie set she’s wearing is gorgeous, all black with a lacy corset. There are accents of dark red throughout the whole piece, and you can feel yourself getting worked up as you take her in.

Wanda’s hand grabs one of the glasses, sipping from it as she makes a small noise of appreciation. Setting it to the side, she grabs the cherry and pops it in her mouth, before she leans forward to grab your jaw.

“Open.”

You can smell the cherry and sharp hints of alcohol on her tongue, and you obey. Wanda’s fingers reach into your glass, grabbing the cherry and bringing it to your parted lips. She rubs it over your top lip first, then your bottom lip. You remain still, watching her eyes as she slowly presses the cherry onto your tongue.

“Chew and swallow, dear.”

You obey, looking into her eyes as you do so.

Wanda smirks, satisfied with your obedience. She grabs your glass, tapping her knees in a silent command as she brings the glass to your lips. You rest your hands on the tops of your thighs, palms facing up as she tips the glass forward, the sweet drink flowing into your mouth.

She has you drink until the glass is empty, your stomach warm from the alcohol and lips buzzing from the way she’d wiped them with her fingers once she was done. Wanda sits back, watching your flushed face as she sips on her own drink.

“There is going to be a new rule implemented, darling.”

You nod, tilting your head slightly.

“When we are together, I will pay for everything. If you wish to make a purchase, you will talk to me beforehand. You know how I hate it when you disobey or trick me in public.” Wanda’s eyes soften. “Occasionally, you can buy some things when we are together, I won’t deny you that. But, let me take care of you, okay?”

You nod. The decision is easy now that you know the real reason why Wanda was so insistent on paying for everything. Besides, it was nice to be taken care of.

“Good girl.”

Wanda finishes her drink, setting it next to your glass. “You know that I have to punish you, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress.” You hang your head slightly, wondering what type of punishment Wanda has planned. Strong fingers grip your chin, wrenching your head up.

“You know why, don’t you?”

“Because I went behind your back, Mistress.”

Wanda’s eyes flash, a pleased smile adorning her face. “Exactly, sweetheart. You know that what you did was wrong, and you know how I hate it when you are dishonest with me.”

At that, Wanda stands, still gripping your face as you crane your neck to look up at her. “Who owns you?”

“You do, Mistress.”

Wanda’s fingers tighten on your jaw, forcing your mouth open. She spits, letting her saliva drip into your mouth, and you swallow obediently.

“Crawl,” she commands, before turning and walking slowly to the bedroom.

You obey, your eyes glued to the sway of her backside as her footsteps click down the hallway. The hallway is carpeted, something you’re grateful for as you crawl behind Wanda. You can feel your arousal running down your inner thighs as you crawl, and sharp arousal mixed with soft humiliation mixes deep inside you.

You reflect on your choices as you crawl, satisfaction that Wanda had finally explained why she liked to pay working its way through you, even as regret pools in your stomach. You truly hated going behind Wanda’s back, and although it was meant as a thoughtful surprise, you now understood why it meant so much to Wanda to take care of you financially.

Wanda stops, wordlessly pointing at the bed. You blink, having not realized that you’d made it to the bedroom already. You follow Wanda’s instructions, crawling onto the bed as she shuts the door behind you, a few warm lamps lighting the room.

“Sometimes I forget…” Wanda begins, sauntering back over to the bed, a glint in her eye. “I forget that good girls like you need discipline to keep them in line, isn’t that right?”

You nod.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Wanda’s eyes hardened. “Yes, Mistress… what?”

“I-” your eyes dart around the room, unsure of what Wanda wants you to say. The woman reached behind you, grabbing two velcro cuffs and attaching them to your wrists while you fumble for an answer.

“What do good girls need, sweetheart?” Wanda finally says, testing the cuffs to make sure they’re secure but not too tight.

“Oh, um. Good girls need their Mistresses to discipline them to remind them of their place.” You turn to look at Wanda, hopeful that you’ve supplied the correct answer. Wanda smiles at you, tracing a finger down your face as she nods.

“Very good,” she murmurs, grabbing a piece of metal and attaching your wrists together on your lap. You know that you can’t escape, so you don’t even test the strength of the restraints; you just watch Wanda.

Tapping your lower back, Wanda urges you into position. “On your knees, ass up, darling. I want your arms straight up so your face is on the mattress.”

You obey, stretching your arms out and presenting your backside. Wanda’s hand lands on the back of your head, ensuring that you stay in place, before she strokes your hair and trails her fingers down your spine. Her lips caress your ear, her vanilla scent washing over you as she whispers, “Count for me.”

You barely have time to question it before a resounding crack echoes through the room. You register the pain a second later, a burning sensation multiplying the humiliation and arousal inside you.

“One, Mistress.”

Wanda is relentless, using her hand first, until you no longer squirm when she spanks you. She lets out a frustrated noise as your voice remains steady, stalking over to the closet and emerging with more toys.

“I want to see you break,” she hisses, grabbing the roots of your hair and twisting your head until your wide eyes meet hers. She relishes the wide look of anticipation and trepidation on your face, before she roughly shoves your face back into the mattress, one hand steadying your back while the other raises a paddle and brings it down sharply with a twist of her wrist.

“T- twenty-three, Mistress,” you moan, feeling tears form in your eyes as your head starts to become fuzzy. This was the headspace that you loved the most, and Wanda knew just how to get you there.

Wanda resumes, switching between the paddle and a soft cane, the low whistle in the air before it strikes you, causing your arousal to spike.

“God, I love how much of a masochist you are,” Wanda says, her voice slightly raspy. “You’ll take anything I give you, won’t you, darling?”

“Yes, Mistress,” you say, your voice slightly muffled from the way your face is pressed into the mattress.

Wanda delivers one final blow, the crack jolting your body forward as your fingers grip the comforter tightly, a muffled sob sounding out. Her cool fingers gently trail over your raw, red ass, her voice whispering in your ear, “Color?”

“Yellow, Mistress,” you moan. “I just need a moment.”

“Good girl,” she responds, rubbing your backside for a moment before walking back into the closet to retrieve more toys, letting you catch your breath.

She remains in the closet for a suspiciously long time, but you don’t dare raise your head. You can hear her rummaging around, her heels making a soft thud on the carpet as she returns, the weight of the bed shifting as she deposits whatever items she collected.

There are some more noises, near the foot of the bed, and you feel yourself craning to hear what she might be doing.

“Turn around, darling,” Wanda commands. “On your knees, facing the headboard.”

“Yes, Mistress,” you mumble, quickly following her order. You can feel her attaching cuffs of some sort to your ankles, and you realize that you’ve been restrained with a spreader bar. Flexing your ankles for a moment, you realize that you’re well and truly stuck. It sends a rush of arousal through you.

“You like this, don’t you,” Wanda murmurs, dragging a finger through your dripping slit, an appreciative moan telling you that she licked your juices from her finger.

You can’t do much but whimper, hearing her chuckle from behind you.

The feeling of something thick prodding at you makes your heart stutter for a moment, before you feel Wanda’s fingers spreading lube all over what you presume to be a dildo. She makes sure to spread some on you as well, her fingers scissoring inside you as she ensures you’re well lubricated.

There’s a click, and then you hear the soft hum of machinery. A thick dildo presses against you, and you moan as you feel it start to penetrate you.

“Hold still,” Wanda commands, and you obey, feeling her adjusting the machine. The dildo presses deep inside you, hitting that spot inside you that causes pleasure to bloom, and you groan into the mattress.

“Perfect.”

Wanda rounds the bed, the machine slowly thrusting her favorite dildo deep inside you, the sounds of your wet pussy being slowly fucked sending her own arousal soaring. She grips your hair again, pulling your head up to admire the glassy look in your eyes. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

“I- mmmph,” you manage, your eyes gazing into hers, not a thought behind them.

Chuckling, Wanda presses a button on the remote, the dildo moving slightly faster. Your mouth opens, your cheeks coloring further as a deep flush emerges.

God, it feels amazing. Wanda’s cool hands on your cheeks as your body is set alight with pleasure. She’s moving, pulling off her lingerie as she manoeuvres herself to sit against the headboard.

You can smell her, so you drop your gaze down to her perfect pussy, licking your lips at the glistening arousal you find there.

“Go on,” Wanda’s voice cuts through the haze. She clicks the remote again, the dildo fucking you faster and deeper. “Make Mommy feel good.”

At that, you dive in, not needing to be told twice. Eating Wanda out was something you’d never tire of. She smelled divine, and tasted even better. You’d told her once that you thought she compared to the nectar of the Gods, and she’d been so pleased that she allowed you to eat her out during an entire workday from home. It had been one of the best days of your life.

“Oh, fuck,” Wanda breathes out, feeling your tongue expertly wrap around her clit, stimulating her in that perfect way of yours. Her hand makes its way to your hair, gripping tightly. It would be uncomfortable, but you loved the pain as she pulled on your roots slightly, pushing your face further into her.

Your hands are still uselessly cuffed together, but your fingers manage to find Wanda’s nipples. You pinch them in that way she likes so much, and you feel her clit pulse beneath your tongue.

Wanda has never been very vocal during sex, but you’ve learned how to read her all the same. You can feel her breath stutter beneath your fingers, and you continue to stimulate her nipples, rolling and pinching until her muscles twitch. She subconsciously thrusts harder into your mouth, and you eagerly accept.

When she comes, it’s quietly, with a low moan and her fingers gripping your hair like she never wants to let you go. You moan with her, your pleasure building as the dildo continues to fuck you slowly, sliding in and out of you until your brain can’t focus on anything else.

“Fuck,” Wanda whispers, pulling your head up to gaze at you. “I want to fill you up, darling.”

Your eyes widen, but you nod, the pleasure making your mind fuzzy. Wanda knows this. She knows how easy you are to manipulate and follow her every word when you’re desperate to cum.

Smirking, Wanda caresses your cheek for a brief moment before she slides out from under you, grabbing another toy from the nightstand.

It’s a beautiful buttplug, made of pure gold with a dark red gem at the end. It’s one of Wanda’s favorites, and you like it well enough. It’s not too big, just enough to stretch you out and make you feel full, and you love it when Wanda claims every part of you.

“Relax, baby,” Wanda murmurs, gently squeezing some lube onto your ass. You obey her, the pleasure from the dildo making your muscles weak. Wanda presses on the remote again, the dildo fucking you faster, pleasure erupting inside you.

Slowly, Wanda inserts the buttplug. You can feel the stretch, the slight burn as the thickest part of the plug makes it past your rim, the sensation of being full making you pant and moan.

“You like that, don’t you? You like it when I claim every one of your holes, hmm?” Wanda asks, twisting the buttplug so it’s covered in lube as she slowly inserts it.

“Yes, Mistress,” you moan, bucking your hips into her hand. This causes the dildo to fuck deeper inside you, and you practically melt into the mattress, your muscles going limp from pleasure.

Wanda chuckles, inserting the buttplug fully and relishing the way you whine at the fullness you feel. She admires you for a moment, the dark red gem glinting back at her as your arousal drips down your thighs while the machine fucks you relentlessly.

Grabbing a soft towel, Wanda slips it underneath you, grabbing your ass when she’s finishes and kneading your hot flesh. You moan, full twinges of pain only adding to your pleasure. You can feel an orgasm starting to emerge, your heart racing as pleasure builds within you.

“Do you want to cum?” Wanda asks, her voice sounding out next to your ear.

You moan in response, too weak to do much else.

“Aww,” Wanda coos, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. “My pet is too dumb to respond correctly, isn’t she?”

Her words reverberate around your skull, the warm vanilla scent engulfing you as your mind grows hazier. You can’t offer much other than soft whimpers and moans, your head turning to tearfully look at your Mistress.

“Well,” Wanda begins, her hands caressing your sore backside harshly. “Since you can’t form a correct response, I suppose I’ll have to punish you.”

You would protest, but you can barely think of any words to say. Wanda’s hand comes down, gentler than her strikes before, but the impact on your already red ass makes you yelp, your mind breaking fully.

Wanda is gentle, but persistent. She spanks you in a rhythm you can’t decipher, unable to anticipate when she’ll strike next. It thrills you, and sends your mind deep into that vanilla headspace you’ve grown to love. Pain mixes with pleasure, the dildo fucking you slowly enough that you feel your orgasm growing, but never quite enough to tip you over the edge.

“P-please,” you manage, after you feel yourself edge again, Wanda monitoring your body’s reactions and slowing the dildo down whenever you grow too close to an orgasm.

“Use your words, darling. Full sentences."

“I-,” you moan loudly, the dildo speeding up.

“Pathetic,” Wanda murmurs, her hand grabbing your hair and yanking your head up. Green eyes meet glazed ones, and she smirks. “You can’t even beg properly anymore, you’re completely mine, aren't you?”

“Yes, Mistress,” you moan, unable to say anything else.

“Good girl,” Wanda releases your hair, letting your head press into the mattress weakly. She clicks the remote again, the dildo fucking you harder than before, the sound of your arousal making it’s way to your ears as you feel pleasure growing once again.

Your orgasm is close, your knuckles white as you grip the pillow, your muscles tense. You’re so close, and Wanda knows it.

“Tell me, darling,” Wanda begins, sitting next to you, stroking your back gently as the dildo fucks punishingly into you. “What lesson did you learn today?”

“I- um… to… to let you, mmphh fuck, to let you pay for me…”

Wanda smiles. “Exactly.” Then, she stands, reaching back to slowly grab the buttplug, pressing it even further into you. You moan, a broken, weak sound that makes Wanda pulse with need.

“You’re going to obey me.” Wanda pulls the buttplug slightly out, before slamming it back into you. “You will never question me or go behind my back again, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” you yelp, moaning as you feel your orgasm creep closer.

“Oh, sweetheart, you know I just want to take care of you, right?” Wanda’s voice is sickly sweet. “That’s all I want. And you just need to learn your place.”

You nod frantically, your submissiveness clicking firmer into place, your role reestablished in your mind.

“Yes, Mistress,” you moan. “I know my place, I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll never disobey you again.”

“I doubt that,” Wanda murmurs to herself, before smiling at your wrecked form. “One more edge, baby, then we can be done for the night.”

You nod, moaning as Wanda clicks the remote higher, the dildo fucking you faster and rougher than it had previously. You’re almost overwhelmed with pleasure, Wanda’s hands on your face and ass, her presence everywhere. You love it.

“I- m gonna…”

Wanda clicks the remote, the dildo stopping immediately.

You moan in slight frustration, feeling your arousal leaking around the dildo as it drips down your thighs. Everything happens in a haze, Wanda removing the dildo from you and slowly taking your buttpluge out. She unclips your restraints, leaving you boneless on the bed as you embrace the comfortable haze in your mind.

The shower is nice, warm, and smelling of vanilla as Wanda washes your body and hair, whispering sweet things into your ear while you slump against her. It’s not until you’re wrapped up underneath the covers that you finally begin to emerge from that comfortable headspace, your limbs entangled with your wife’s.

“I love you, darling. Thank you for your trust in me.”

“You always make good decisions for us,” you say, yawning slightly and burrowing further into her. “I love you, too.”

Wanda smiles, making a contented noise as you hear her breathing start to grow softer.

“Hey, Wands?”

“Hmm.”

“I’m paying for ice cream tomorrow.”

And with that, you ignore the soft, happy sigh your wife lets out, letting her vanilla scent engulf you completely.

Your life truly couldn’t be more perfect.

—-

Dm or comment to be added/removed!

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marvelwitchergilmore · 4 months ago

Text

Dog Tags (4)

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> After you get discharged from the hospital, things start to change between you and Bucky.

Disclaimer: This is part four to parts one, two and three. Little angst, lot of fluff, Bucky and reader train together, found family moments between the team, Sam and Wanda being exhausted shippers, Bucky blushes, swearing. Not Proof Read.

By the time you were finally discharged from the hospital, Bucky was the one to bring you home.

“Bucky, I can carry my own bags.” You watched as he hauled your overnight over his shoulder before pushing the trunk of the car down.

“You’ve only just been discharged from the hospital and I don’t exactly feel like calling them up, as your husband, and telling them you’ve busted a stitch.”

“My stitches healed ages ago.”

Bucky shook his head. “Not taking any chances.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” you told him, though it didn’t hold as much bite as it used to.

Bucky turned around with you in the elevator before clicking the button for the compound apartments.

“And you’re a thorn in my side, sweetheart.”

You just smiled to yourself as the doors closed in front of yourself and Bucky.

It was noticeable, the change, between yourself and Bucky.

The rare good morning grunts, or more often; complete, yet heavy, silence. They had been swapped for smiles and genuine good mornings. The training and shift patterns were easier to assign, mission reports were completed with less dent marks in the paper, and the evening dinners were less awkward.

Sam and Wanda had become hopeful. They all had.

“They look happy, don’t they?” Sam asked aloud, already knowing Wanda was silently standing beside him.

She smiled. “They really do.”

Down the hallway, you and Bucky were exiting the training room, laughing. The look in Bucky’s eyes – the light – had been rare to see in the last year. But when he was with you…

The light between both of you could blind any shadow.

“Is it permanent?” Sam asked, something in his gut denying him true joy.

Wanda smiled, hopefully. “I think so. Their connection runs deep. He helped her heal. She helped him. Nobody can end a connection like that.”

Sam nodded, turning his head to look back down the corridor where you and Bucky had just turned. He could only hope it would last.

Bucky had been in love with you for a long time, even if he didn’t like it. Sam didn’t want him to hide it away. He deserved love. And so did you.

Even when all you did was fight, you were each other's safe space.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Shut up.”

“Because one wrong hit and it all falls down.”

You were starting to regret agreeing to family games night at Kate’s apartment. It was yourself, Kate, Yelena, Clint and Bucky; all sat on the floor.

“Careful, doll.”

“Shut up.”

You knew you’d taken a risky move with the jenga block, but if you’d chosen the one Clint had first been trying to ‘help’ you towards, you’d lose.

“You know, this is a stupid game. We should play something else.” Yelena said. Her’s would be a different tune if she hadn’t lost the last round.

Kate shushed her, “She’s gonna do it.”

Clint looked at his work partner. “This is a one for all game. Can’t be girls vs boys. We’re outnumbered.”

Yelena scoffed. “Bucky is like…ancient. He qualifies for two people, at least.”

You sniggered, trying to keep your focus on the wooden block.

“You are a child.” Clint deadpanned before turning to Bucky. “They’re children.”

“Ah!” You pulled the brick free and held up your arms. “Done it!”

The tower remained standing for another minute before Clint took his go and the tower came falling down.

Yelena just laughed, “Ha.”

You chuckled, pushing yourself to stand. “Okay, I’m getting another drink.”

“I’ll set up the next game.” Yelena called out before picking up the monopoly board.

“I’ll come with you,” Bucky said as you stepped over his legs before helping him up.

As the pair of you walked into the kitchen, you could hear the other three stuck in an argument over who should be the banker.

“Beer?”

Bucky held out his hand and you passed him the two in your hand. Popping off both caps, he threw the tops into the sink before handing you yours.

You both clinked the necks of the bottles against each other��s. “You did good.”

“Would have been easier if I didn’t have this super annoying voice coming from across the table.”

Bucky smirked a little, narrowing his eyes. “Now where would the fun in that be?”

You just shook your head as you took a sip of your beer. You leaned against the sink as Bucky leaned adjacent to you.

“So…”

“So?”

Bucky lowered the beer bottle from his lips and braced himself on the counter. “I’ve got a free day tomorrow if you want to…do something. With me.”

You looked him over. “Why are you shy?”

You saw him blush a little as he looked away. “I’m not- I’m not shy.”

You smiled and Bucky felt like he needed to look away despite that being the last thing he wanted to do.

“Bucky,” your voice was soft as you looked at him. “What is it?”

“I just…” Bucky’s question was on the tip of his tongue. But then he chickened out. “I was wondering if you wanted to train with me tomorrow?”

“You were nervous to ask me to train with you?”

Bucky nodded. “Last time I asked, you said no.”

You just stood back for a moment, your eyes fixed on him. “I’ll train with you.”

Bucky felt like his crush in a 40s dancehall had just finally agreed to dance with him. “Really?”

“Really,” you nodded. “Don’t know who would train on their day off, but sure.” You smiled before grabbing the bowl of snacks on the kitchen counter.

“We better get back in there before the bank has a hostage situation.”

Bucky chuckled, following you back into the living room.

By the time the next afternoon rolled around, you and Bucky were beat.

Bucky held his side. “I thought you were taking it easy after your injuries.”

You laughed, “I got a full clearance from the hospital four months ago. Good as new. Thought I’d go easy on you? Never.”

You almost had Bucky to his feet but he pulled a reverse on you. Somehow you found yourself trapped on your knees, your back against his chest. “Little too cocky, sweetheart. And who said I wanted you to go easy on me?”

Jabbing him in the ribs, he calculated your next move. You were rolled onto the mat together. As you had Bucky on his back, you felt him reach for your knife. Only, it wasn’t there.

He felt a small pinch by his side. He looked down, a little breathless. “You remembered.”

A small chuckle left you. “I remember a lot of things about you, Barnes.”

You didn’t know what it was. Your words and their hidden meaning, the smile on his face as he was looking at you, the way his eyes flicked to your lips, or the fact that yours did the same with him. Maybe it was his hand, holding onto the side of your leg, his thumb mindlessly rubbing back and forth. Maybe it was the breathless exchange. Or maybe it was your constant reminder of him that fell forward from your t-shirt.

Dangling between you both were Bucky’s dog tags.

Pulling your attention away from the slow-swinging metal, Bucky spoke, “You’re still wearing them.”

Your gaze locked onto his. “Yeah…never take them off.”

Maybe it was the fact that Bucky was looking at you like…like he wanted to kiss you. Or the fact that you wanted him to.

But something shifted.

You cleared your throat and quickly moved yourself from Bucky’s body and stood up. “I, uh, I should…there’s somewhere I’ve gotta…”

You couldn’t think straight. You just needed to get out of there, before you did something reckless.

The rest was a blur. Gathering your things up, Bucky slowly standing up and trying to keep you calm. He was clueless and worried. And somewhere between it all, you’d pressed his dog tags into his palm and left.

For the next month, things were…awkward, to say the least.

“Has she told you anything?” Bucky asked, once again frustrated that you weren’t talking to him.

It was bordering on week 5 of you ignoring him.

And it. Was. Maddening.

Wanda shook her head. “No, nothing.”

In saying you’d told her nothing, that was the truth. But deep down, Wanda already knew why. Whatever had happened between you and Bucky after that day…it had scared you. It had opened something up inside of you that you’d been forcing down for a long, long time.

“I thought we were finally getting somewhere,” Bucky sighed as he sat down.

“Maybe you should just try and talk to her.”

“How?” Bucky almost exclaimed.

“And we’re standing again,” Wanda whispered to herself as Bucky launched himself from the sofa and started pacing again.

“Everytime I see her, she doesn’t look at me. If she sees me coming down the corridor, she takes a completely different exit. We got assigned a three day recon mission last week, she won’t take the mission.”

“She’ll take the mission, Bucky.”

He just shook his head. “She won’t. She hates me. Again. I don’t even…”

“She doesn’t hate you, Bucky. She never has.” Wanda told him. “Look, Y/n…she’s not someone who trusts easily. And she trusts you, Bucky. I know she does. Maybe even more than she even knows. Which also means, I know that it scares her.”

Wanda stood and laid a light hand on Bucky’s chest, a little over his heart. “Just talk to her. Find her. Make her sit down if you have to. Talk. It’s the only thing you can do.”

Bucky bowed his head and sighed. That was even if he could get you alone in a room for ten minutes.

“We need to talk.”

You ducked your head as if a bullet had just been fired towards you. “Jesus- James.” You closed your eyes and sighed heavily. “You need to stop sneaking up on me. Make a noise or do something. How long have you been standing there?”

“Ten minutes. At least,” Bucky answered honestly before pushing himself from the wall. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t about to run off. And, from the way you’ve been punching that bag, I’d say you’re really pissed at someone.”

“Want me to give you three guesses?”

Bucky just hummed and continued to watch you as he stood a little closer.

“What do you want, Bucky?”

“I want to talk.”

“What about?” You continued to hit the punching bag in front of you.

“You know what.”

“No, I don’t.”

Bucky came and held the bag still and for a moment, you stood back. Breathless, sweaty and tired, you looked at him.

“I know you’re not dumb, Y/n. You know what.”

You stepped away, untying the bandage from your hands. “Enlighten me.”

Bucky watched as you walked away from him. He could take a lifetime of you hating him, but not a lifetime of you ignoring him.

“Aren’t you tired of this game?”

“What game?”

“This one. And the one we’ve been doing for the last few years. I thought we made up. I thought we were finally friends.”

You shook your head. “You don’t wanna be my friend, Bucky.”

“Yes, I do.” He stood in front of you before you could walk away. You finally looked at him.

For the first time in over a month, you finally looked at him. And he knew it was still true. He could drown in your gaze for the rest of his life.

“Or maybe I don’t.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What I do know, however, is that I want you to talk to me. I can take you hating me for the rest of your life, Y/n. But I can’t take you ignoring me. Pretending like we don’t exist.”

“We?”

“What happened here?” You knew what he meant. The training mats were less than eight feet away from you. “That day?”

You turned your gaze away from him, trying to run away from the conversation. “Nothing. Nothing happened.”

He let you pass but he still followed behind you. “Something happened.”

“Nothing happened, Bucky.”

“Y/n.” Bucky stopped walking.

“Goodnight, James. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Y/n, wait!”

Finally, you stopped in your tracks. Your back was still facing him, but you had stopped running. For the moment.

Slowly, you turned around to face him. Your grip tightened on your bag. “What?”

Bucky stood looking at you. Breathless. Angry. Worried. Sad. Annoyed. Tired.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he muttered, almost to himself as he bowed his head and braced his hands on his hips. “I can’t.” He looked back up at you, a little more determined. “I like you, Y/n. I can deal with you hating me. I’d prefer it, actually, compared to you ignoring me. If I’m being completely honest, I more than like you. But since I’ve barely been able to keep you in the same room as me for the last month, I’m gonna keep that to myself until I know you’re not gonna run away from me.”

You didn’t know what to say, so Bucky continued.

“Just…tell me what happened…please.” Bucky was ready to get on his knees and beg.

Your words were caught in your throat. Stuck in place, burning underneath whilst freezing on top. So you did the only thing your body was allowing you to do.

Move.

You could have turned away. You could have ignored it all.

But you stayed.

Bucky watched as you dropped the bag from your shoulder and it landed with a loud thud on the ground. Then you were making your way over to him.

Pulling him in by his dog tags, you placed your other hand by the back of his head and kissed him.

It was safe to say Bucky hadn’t been expecting it. Dreamed of it a few times, but never expected it.

It felt surreal.

You felt his hand clasp your waist, his fingertips pressing lightly into your skin almost as if to check you were real. It wasn’t long before you felt one of his hands beside your face, trying to hold you closer as he kissed you right back.

Eventually the kiss broke apart, but Bucky wasn’t ready to let you go.

“That,” you eventually said. “That was what happened…what almost happened,” you corrected.

Bucky felt lightheaded and unsteady on his feet but in the best way.

“You should have stayed that day.”

You found the courage to finally look at him.

You shook your head. “I…couldn’t. I know it’s bullshit but…it scared me. More than anything. I’ve been hiding that part of myself for so long I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

“Well, just for future reference, this is the better answer.”

You felt yourself chuckle a little once you saw the corner of Bucky’s mouth lift up.

“I can take you hating me, doll. But I can’t take the silence. Even when we’re fighting, I still know you’re there. You still talk to me.”

That was when Bucky let you go.

“What are you doing?”

From around his neck, he pulled the dog tags up and over his head. “Giving you these back.”

“But they’re yours.”

Bucky just laid them over your head and around you, holding them with a smile. “They’ve been yours since you stole them, doll.”

Holding them in your palm, you looked at them.

“They haven’t been the only thing you’ve stolen from me.”

You looked back to Bucky, a softened smile on your face. And he was looking right back at you, the same stupid grin on his face that had been making your stomach fill with butterflies.

“Promise me you won’t run away from me, again?”

You shrugged. “Like you said, this is the better answer.”

Bucky grinned, sharing a laugh with you as he cupped your face before kissing you again.

He hadn’t been expecting for you to kiss him when you did, but he was certainly glad you had. Because it meant he could finally kiss you back.

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witchslove · 3 months ago

Text

Rivals

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You and Wanda work together but you can’t stand each other, until one day your boss asks the two of you to fake date for a promotion.

Warnings: 18+ nsfw content; power bottom!wanda, top!reader, office sex, oral (w receiving), fingering (w receiving), mommy kink, praise kink, slight angst

A/N: I need a mean older Wanda in my life, when is it my turn?

——————————

It was a beautiful day with a slight chill in the air as you walked down the street towards the Stark building. You had left early for work that day to get a coffee on the way there from your favorite shop, a small space on the corner of your block.

Coffee in hand, you strode to work, thinking to yourself that you couldn’t have a bad day after so many things had gone right. You’d woken up to your first alarm, gotten dressed without second guessing your outfit, and even had time to pick up a drink before heading to your office building.

Not that you had many bad days in the first place - Stark Industries was good to you. Work usually went by fast as you kept busy most days, finding peace in your daily tasks.

There was only one thing that threatened to ruin a perfectly good day at work, and that was Wanda Maximoff.

She’d worked with you since you’d started there and she’d hated you from the beginning. You never knew why nor did you question it for too long, finding that the feeling was mutual.

She was competitive and made it her goal every day to be better than you at your job. She would brush past you, ignoring your presence, while greeting your boss and then promptly find some way to one up you, making sure to jab at you subtly in the process. When others weren’t around, she wasn’t much nicer. She made snide remarks, gave backhanded compliments, and treated you more like you were an intern than her equal.

Despite her less than pleasant behavior, you tried not to let her get to you, but it was hard not to fight back sometimes.

It did bother you at times how she seemed to look down on you. You wondered what you ever could have done to make her dislike you so much. If things were different, you thought you might actually like her or want to be her friend, or at the very least her acquaintance. The first time you saw her, you were taken aback - she was admittedly a very gorgeous woman, which was even more frustrating.

Today was going to be a good day though, you told yourself. You had a cup of your favorite coffee, a song you loved playing in your headphones, and a meeting with your boss that day discussing your recent work, which you knew you’d done flawlessly.

Today was going to be a good day. Was.

What you hadn’t anticipated when you entered the Stark building, swiping your keycard to get to the elevator and going up to the 21st floor, was to see your boss at the front desk, waiting for you with the one and only Wanda Maximoff stood beside him.

She wore a maroon blouse with a fitted black skirt, the color of her shirt making her green eyes stand out, and if she was literally anyone else you would’ve complimented her style. That was another thing about her that was infuriating - she always looked good.

Your boss, Mr. Stark, laughed at something Wanda said before he noticed you and waved you over.

“Y/N, you’re prepared for our meeting today, yes?” Mr. Stark greeted, smiling.

“Yes,” you replied, nodding.

“Perfect, I expect nothing less from you,” he started. “Also, Wanda will be joining us today. I have something very important to talk to the two of you about, regarding our deal with the Osborn group.”

You tried not to let your face fall, forcing a smile and glancing at Wanda, who seemed to be pleased that she was crashing your personal meeting with the boss. You’d wanted the one on one time with him as you’d been itching to bring up a possible promotion ever since one of your staff members resigned. Your numbers had been impressive lately and you were sure he would at least consider it.

Now, unfortunately, Wanda would be part of your meeting and knowing her, she’d probably laugh in your face if she found out you were interested in moving up.

“Sounds good,” you responded as normally as you could, feeling slightly nervous for what was to come.

“See you both at 11,” Stark said, making his exit and leaving the two of you standing by the front desk.

There was a bit of an awkward silence before Wanda spoke. “You don’t seem too excited about me being at the meeting later. Do you not like me?” The redhead teased, fake pouting. “Or did you just want some alone time with Stark? I wouldn’t put it past you to whore yourself out to the boss for a promotion.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not all of us are like you, Wanda,” you replied, trying to get under her skin, despite not actually believing that she was that kind of person. It even slightly offended you that she thought you might be, especially considering you weren’t into men to begin with. “See you at the meeting.”

You walked past her to your office, setting your things down on the desk and running a hand through your hair. It was going to be a long day.

By the time the meeting came around, you’d finished your coffee and gotten some work done to kickstart your day, trying to keep your mind busy after your encounter with Wanda earlier.

You stopped by the break room for a water on your way to the meeting and arrived to the conference room a few minutes early, taking a seat next to the head of the table where Mr. Stark would sit.

The door to the conference room opened slowly and Wanda walked in, taking the seat across from you with a disapproving look on her face.

“You should really invest in some new clothes if you want to impress Stark. Yours look like they came from Goodwill,” she remarked, making a point to look you up and down where you sat. You ignored the way your body heated up at the action.

“At least I don’t dress like I want the boss to bend me over,” you shot back, not missing a beat.

“Oh, do you think about me bent over a lot?” she asked, smirking.

Now all you could think about was what Wanda might look like in such a position and you hoped she couldn’t tell you were blushing.

Before you could come up with something to say back, Stark walked into the room, adjusting the collar of his suit jacket with one hand, the other carrying a set of documents. You and Wanda both sat up straighter and greeted him simultaneously, almost as if you were competing to see who could say something to the man first.

“Glad you’re both on time, we have a lot to cover today,” Stark announced before taking a seat at the head of the table. “Firstly, Y/N, I know this was supposed to be something of a performance review for you. We can reschedule that for a later date. Today’s topic actually involves both of you, which is why I asked Wanda to sit in.”

You felt your stomach turn at the possibilities of what that meant. Maybe he had a project the two of you would have to work together on, or maybe he had finally caught on to your disdain for each other and you were both in trouble for being unprofessional.

Before you could overthink too much, he spoke again. “As you both know, we’re currently in talks of a merger with the Osborn group. They want to give us a percentage of their company in exchange for a shared client base.”

You and Wanda both nodded in acknowledgment, listening intently.

“However, Osborn is a family business that runs on certain values. Mr. Osborn has agreed to the merger under two conditions, the first one being that the CEO of our company be married, which I am. The second condition is that I hire two people to take on the merging process, which means extra work, but extra pay as well.”

He cleared his throat before continuing. “Now, the two of you are my best employees. I want to bring you both in to help with the merger.”

There it was - you were getting promoted, but you’d have to work alongside Wanda, who was also getting promoted. You tried not to show your mixed emotions, excitement at the prospect of moving up in the company, paired with the stress and slight disgust of having to work with Wanda.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad - maybe you wouldn’t have to work too closely with her.

“Here’s the catch,” Stark said, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Osborn wants a couple to take on the project. I want the two of you to do it, seeing as you’re the best in the company at what you do. It is a promotion, but if you want it, then the two of you have to pretend to be together for appearances.”

Your jaw dropped. You were finally getting the promotion you’d wanted for so long, but there was in fact a catch, a massive one at that. You had to pretend to be dating your work rival - some might even call her your worst enemy - for however long the merger would take.

“What are your thoughts?” Stark asked, looking between the two of you.

Wanda had an unreadable expression on her face. You couldn’t tell if she was pleased with the promotion or absolutely pissed at the thought of fake dating you. The fact that you couldn’t read her when you wanted to was almost as frustrating as the bomb Stark had just dropped on you both.

“I think we can make it work,” she spoke first, putting on a friendly face for show. “Y/N and I are both adults here and we would be silly to turn down such an offer.”

You swallowed, nodding your agreement. “Exactly,” you said, your voice almost cracking. “I’m sure Wanda and I can find some common ground.” As you spoke, you looked her directly in the eyes, as if your stare alone could convey that you could see right through her act and that you were only playing along too for the money.

“Perfect!” Stark’s voice broke through the tension and you looked away from Wanda to give him your full attention. “We’ll need to go over what’s required of you both for the position you’ll be taking. Not just the work aspect, but the relationship aspect as well. Osborn will have his own employees and clients here often and you’ll need to keep up the relationship act at all times.”

Stark opened the folder in front of him to pull out two contracts, one for you and one for Wanda.

“The second you’re here every morning, the two of you are together. I’ll also be paying for you to go on at least two dates a week outside of work. I know this is a place of business, but the more PDA the better. Today is for getting your stories straight, I want both of you to work together for the rest of the work day to come up with a believable foundation for your relationship and get to know each other better. I’ll take care of your individual workloads for the next two days as well, so you can focus on each other and we can get through all the paperwork. I hate to ask you to do all of this, but I trust the two of you can handle it.”

As Stark began to go over some paperwork with you, explaining each page before having you sign, your thoughts were everywhere but on the dotted line. Two dates a week? PDA? You weren’t sure you would survive faking a relationship with Wanda.

You hated to admit it, but the thought of kissing her had crossed your mind before, usually accompanied by enough disgust that you could ignore the butterflies it caused.

Wanda was beautiful - anyone with eyes could see that - and she was absolutely your type, but her personality always squashed any thoughts you might’ve had about wanting her.

Now, it was all too real. You would have to pretend to like her despite the torment she put you through since your first day at the company. You’d have to put aside your rivalry for the sake of your promotion and act like she wasn’t the bane of your existence most days.

You would have to kiss her.

Your mind was stuck on that and you couldn’t figure out why. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was something more, but whatever it was had your head spinning.

Your thoughts raced as you finished the paperwork with Stark and Wanda, who seemed far too calm and collected the entire time.

When the meeting was over and Stark had left, you ignored a snarky comment from Wanda and exited the conference room with haste. You walked back to your office, finally letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as soon as the door was closed.

The merger would begin in two days and you had no idea how long it would take or how long you’d have to “date” Wanda. Two days of normalcy didn’t feel like enough time to prepare, but you knew what you had to do. You were getting promoted, and Stark trusted you with one of the most important collaborations to ever happen within his company. You decided you would just have to focus on that to get through what was to come. Everything would be okay.

Two days went by fast, faster than you expected, and it was time to put on a show. You and Wanda had used those two days to prepare, coming up with a story of how you got together and learning more about each other to make your relationship more believable.

Of course, Wanda never missed an opportunity to insult you or tease you during those two days and you wondered if she’d be able to hold back when it was time to pretend.

It was easy enough to come up with a story. You met each other at work and fell in love over time. One night of working late turned into a first kiss and a date that would soon follow.

You’d learned a lot about Wanda as well. She lived close to work at an apartment complex similar to yours but slightly more luxurious. She walked to work some days and loved to stop for a croissant on her way when she had time. She had a brother named Pietro, who lived about an hour away. She was born in Sokovia and grew up there with Pietro before moving to the States to pursue better opportunities, which explained why she sometimes sounded like she had an accent.

She found out a lot about you as well and you weren’t sure if that made you uncomfortable for good reasons or bad reasons. It felt both exciting and also nerve-wracking to share parts of your life with someone you spent so much time hating.

You found yourself hating her a little less as you learned more about her. She was a very interesting person and you wondered what it would be like to know her as someone who she didn’t make it her life’s mission to annoy every day. You wondered if she was feeling the same way as she got to know you too.

Whether or not she was, today was the day where you’d both have to put your rivalry aside and pretend to love each other.

You stopped for a coffee on your way to work, knowing you would definitely need one, and walked purposefully to the Stark building. You arrived ten minutes early, hoping you would have some time to sip your coffee and take some deep breaths.

As you swiped your keycard and boarded the elevator, a familiar voice called out.

“Hold it, please!” Wanda said, running up to the elevator with an outstretched hand, heels clicking against the tile.

You put an arm out to keep the door from closing and let her in. “I should’ve let it close,” you said teasingly.

“I don’t know if you’ve forgotten sweetheart, but we have to be nice to each other now. Think you can handle that?” she responded somewhat condescendingly.

“I can handle it, can you?” you asked, looking over at her as you spoke.

“You underestimate me, detka.” That was new, she’d never called you that nor had you ever heard the word before, but it sounded lovely the way she said it.

Neither of you spoke again as the elevator finished its journey up. The doors opened and the two of you stepped out into the office area where Mr. Stark was waiting for you, accompanied by a man you’d only ever seen in pictures.

Wanda moved closer to you, placing a hand on your lower back as you approached and you were glad she didn’t notice your slight shiver at the touch.

“Good morning ladies,” Stark greeted. “As you probably already know, this is Mr. Osborn.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, shaking Osborn’s hand.

Wanda did the same after you, only removing her hand from your back to shake Osborn’s properly.

“Y/N and Wanda here are going to be taking on the merger, the paperwork is already done and they’ve been briefed on what’s expected of them,” Stark announced, gesturing to the two of you standing there closely.

“Ah, so you’re the lovely couple I’ve heard so much about.” Osborn smiled warmly as he spoke.

“Yes, and we’re so excited to work with you,” Wanda replied, subtly taking your hand in hers and interlacing your fingers.

You knew it was all for show, but it felt weirdly nice to hold her hand and you internally cursed yourself for thinking such a thing. But you couldn’t help it when her hand was so warm and soft and her thumb stroked the back of your hand idly as she conversed with your boss and his business partner.

After a few minutes of talking, Stark excused himself to take a business call and Osborn turned fully towards you and Wanda.

“Thank you for taking on such a big role in the company,” he started. “I look forward to seeing more of the both of you.”

“We can say the same, sir,” you said sweetly, leaning into Wanda a bit to help the act.

He smiled again and with that, he stepped away, walking off towards one of the offices he would be using during his time there.

You knew he had other employees around the office so you couldn’t drop the act for even a second, whether Osborn himself was looking or not, so you fought the urge to pull away.

“Nice touch leaning into me,” Wanda mumbled, so that only you could hear.

“Was that… a compliment?” You asked quietly, unable to resist the urge to tease her.

“I would say don’t get used to it, but neither of us have a choice anymore.” Wanda turned towards you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ll see you later.”

She pulled away to go to her office and start her day and you did the same, knowing you needed some time to yourself after your first little performance with Wanda. You almost thought it was going to be a long day, but then you remembered this was going to be your every day for a while.

The charade continued as the day went on and you worked more closely with Wanda on the merger, going over paperwork and calling clients together. Osborn’s employees would come in and out of the conference room to discuss things with the two of you, so you had to endure more loving touches and heartwarming compliments from the redhead.

At one point, Stark and Osborn had a conversation in the hallway outside the conference room, which of course had glass walls, making it hard to catch a break from faking your relationship.

You were reviewing a document with Wanda beside you when she spoke.

“Can you sign this one for me?” She handed you a form and a pen.

“What, no ‘please?’” You joked.

“No, I don’t think I need to ask, you’ll just do it if I tell you to,” she remarked back, catching you slightly off guard.

When you took the pen from her, your fingers touched and you knew Wanda did it on purpose. You looked over at her, feeling small under her intense stare, before signing the form and sliding it back to her.

“Thank you,” she said softly, sounding slightly distracted, causing you to look at her again.

When you did, her eyes weren’t on yours.

“Osborn has wandering eyes,” she muttered under her breath, her gaze on your lips, and before you could respond she was kissing you softly.

Her lips against yours felt incredible, you couldn’t even lie to yourself. Butterflies erupted in your stomach and in that moment, you never wanted to detach from her. You would work through why that was later, right now all you could think about was her.

You kissed her back, lips moving together in tandem, fitted so perfectly against each other it created even more conflicting feelings within you.

It didn’t last nearly as long as you wished it did, wondering why on earth you were hoping for more when it was Wanda you were kissing.

After a few seconds, she pulled away, leaving one last quick kiss on your lips before saying something about printing more documents and walking off.

You sat there for a moment, trying to collect yourself. As you came back to reality, you noticed Osborn looking in from outside the conference room and you were coldly reminded that Wanda only did that so he would see it. It meant nothing to her and it shouldn’t mean anything to you either.

With that, you focused back on your work, knowing in a few minutes you’d have to go over more of it with Wanda and the show would continue. You just had to keep reminding yourself that none of it was real.

From where she stood at the printer, Wanda smirked to herself at how you reacted to the kiss - she wasn’t going to let that go anytime soon. She knew she’d have time to tease you about it later, after she was done cursing herself for thinking about how soft your lips were against hers.

The rest of the day went by fairly smoothly. Stark and Osborn spent most of their time in Stark’s office, so you and Wanda had some time to cool off from the kiss earlier. That didn’t stop Wanda’s teasing touches however, because Osborn’s employees could be anywhere, and it seemed she was enjoying torturing you in a new way.

By the time you were getting ready to head home, you were beyond flustered and fairly certain you’d need to change your underwear. If Wanda wasn’t infuriating enough already, it was only made worse by the fact that she had this effect on you.

The days that followed were similar to that first day. You and Wanda continued to pretend to be a couple, with Wanda winding you up every chance she got, almost like she knew what she was doing to you.

Osborn was at the office a bit less every day, but his employees were always there getting work done even when he wasn’t around.

Therefore, the show went on. Wanda had gotten in the habit of giving you soft pecks on your lips before she would get up to go take care of work-related tasks and it was driving you insane. The short and sweet kisses were too much and yet at the same time, never enough.

You had come to the conclusion that you definitely felt something for Wanda, something other than disdain and irritation. As much as you tried to fight it, you wanted her. You convinced yourself she would never feel the same way though; with how she had always acted towards you, it seemed impossible.

Every touch, every kiss, every pet name Wanda called you - it was all an act. You had to push your feelings down as much as possible because you didn’t want her to find out and you didn’t want to get hurt. So you kept your guard up and tried your hardest to ignore how you felt, despite the fact that Wanda wasn’t making it easy for you.

You were starting to wonder if the promotion was even worth it.

Even so, you carried on, doing excellent work under Stark in your new position and working surprisingly well with Wanda, from both a business perspective and a fake dating perspective.

You had also found it in you to initiate more of the relationship acts with Wanda, if not to satisfy your own desires then to at least mess with her. Sometimes you held her hand, sometimes you moved hair out of her face, sometimes you kissed her on the cheek - every time, she seemed to like it. You figured she was just acting, as you were supposed to, but part of you hoped she wasn’t.

You loved that she sometimes seemed nervous or flustered when you made a move or teased her.

One time when she kissed you, you separated first, while she was still attempting to keep the kiss going. You decided to mess with her and said jokingly, “if you want to keep kissing me, you could just ask” with a smirk plastered on your face. She blushed and hesitated before she spoke. “In your dreams,” she remarked, before going back to work. You considered that a win.

Maybe it was worth it if you could get a reaction out of her too.

It had been a week since the act started and tonight was date night. Starting tonight, you’d have to go on two dates with Wanda every week. Stark gave you a company card to put all of your expenses on for the night, telling you to take Wanda to a nice restaurant he recommended and enjoy dinner with her.

You were nervous to be alone with her outside of work, but you were also looking forward to it.

The restaurant was a block away from the Osborn building, which is why Stark had picked it out for your date. You’d have to keep up appearances while you were out with Wanda, but you didn’t mind. Part of you was excited to at least feel like you were taking her on a proper date. You wondered more than anything how she was feeling about it too.

At the end of the work day, you left the Stark building and walked home to get ready for your date. You decided to wear slacks and a black dress shirt, wanting to feel confident while also not giving Wanda the satisfaction of seeing you in a dress. You straightened your hair and touched up your makeup, hating the idea that you wanted so badly to impress Wanda.

Slipping into a pair of high heels, you finished getting ready just in time for a car to pull up in front of your apartment building, courtesy of Mr. Stark.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, giving you time to hype yourself up. It was just a date. It may have been just a date with your arch nemesis, but it was just a date. You’d been on dates before, you could do this. It wasn’t even a real date anyway, you told yourself, it was just another one of many performances between you and Wanda to secure your promotion at work.

When the car pulled up to the restaurant, you thanked the driver and got out, walking in to see if Wanda had already arrived.

As you spoke to the hostess about your reservation, the door opened and you were absolutely not prepared for what came next.

Wanda looked stunning; seeing her like this took your breath away. Unlike you, she had worn a dress. The black material hugged her body in all the right places, with a slit down the side, exposing her thigh.

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Wanda said smugly as she approached, a cocky smile on her face.

“You look nice,” you managed to get out, trying to compose yourself.

“You do too for once,” she responded, smiling, the backhanded compliment not going unnoticed by you. You found that you didn’t mind.

The two of you were escorted to your table, where you pulled Wanda’s chair out for her and then sat down across from her.

“So chivalrous,” she commented, fingers tracing the menu in front of her.

“Anything for my beautiful girlfriend,” you said back mockingly.

“Aw, you think I’m beautiful?” she asked, smiling.

You rolled your eyes. “I also called you my girlfriend.”

“Yeah but you have to call me that. Didn’t have to call me beautiful,” she responded, raising an eyebrow. She had you there.

“Well, maybe I meant it,” you mumbled, trying to hide the truth behind your words and keep up the playful banter.

“You’re beautiful too, you know,” she said, looking at you intently. You blushed, unable to hold eye contact after the compliment. You muttered out a quick “thank you” and decided the menu suddenly seemed really interesting.

After ordering your food and drinks - you made sure to get something with a little alcohol in it - an awkward silence settled over the two of you.

Wanda broke the silence first, chuckling.

“What?” you asked.

“It’s just funny. I never thought I’d be here, at this fancy restaurant, having dinner with you,” Wanda replied, but there was no malice in the way she said it, only amusement.

“Cheers to that, because I never thought I’d be here either,” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

“Where did you think you’d be? What kind of future do you see for yourself?” Wanda asked genuinely. You weren’t prepared for the conversation to take such a turn but you answered anyway.

The rest of the dinner went surprisingly well; the two of you talked about your goals, your lives before working together, your hobbies, and anything else you could think of.

You learned that Wanda loved to garden and you found it ironic that a week ago you never would’ve thought she was capable of loving something enough to keep it alive.

By the end of the night, both of you were slightly tipsy and actually enjoying each other’s company. You covered the bill when it came, using the card Stark gave you, and the two of you walked outside to wait for your rides home.

You leaned against a brick wall, laughing at a joke Wanda told you, catching your breath. As you calmed down, you looked at Wanda, who still had a bright smile on her face. It was so genuine and real, you couldn’t help but stare, almost as if you were memorizing her face at that moment. You felt like you were seeing her for the first time. She was undeniably gorgeous all the time, but something about her letting her guard down and laughing with you allowed you to see her differently - she was breathtaking.

She was everything.

You didn’t realize you were staring for so long until she noticed and returned your gaze. Her eyes flickered down to your lips and you almost shivered at the motion.

Just as you were about to speak, Wanda leaned in.

You met her halfway, kissing her softly at first, getting lost in the feeling of her lips against yours. She brought her hand up behind your head, deepening the kiss and you almost moaned when you felt her tongue against your lips. Your lips parted to let her in and she kissed you with more passion than you’d ever felt in your life.

This was the longest kiss you’d shared, and by far the most intense one. You never wanted it to end, kissing her back just as eagerly, allowing your tongue to swipe against hers. Your hands came up to her cheeks, one finding its way behind her neck to play with the hairs at the nape of her neck.

The two of you stayed like that for a long moment, just feeling each other and forgetting what you were supposed to be doing.

When her tongue licked into your mouth again, you whimpered, and that seemed to break the spell.

Wanda pulled back, pupils dilated, a slight look of panic painting her perfect features. “Sorry, I- I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” As if on cue, a car pulled up, one of Stark’s drivers, and Wanda got in.

She was gone as quickly as she was on you in the first place and it took your brain a moment to catch up with what had just happened.

The kiss didn’t feel planned, it didn’t feel fake, it didn’t feel like it was for Osborn or Stark or anyone at the company. It felt real - it felt like she wanted you just as badly as you wanted her. You wanted to believe that but you couldn’t let yourself. She left in such a hurry she obviously regretted the kiss and you weren’t entirely certain she hadn’t just done it because she saw someone from work walking by.

You groaned, reality sinking back in. Another car pulled up and you knew it was your ride home. You straightened yourself out and got in the car, letting your mind run through all the possibilities on the way home.

When you arrived at work the next day, something was off.

“Hey Y/N,” Wanda greeted you at the entrance and put a hand on your shoulder, letting her thumb rub circles, but it felt wrong. It felt calculated, like she was just going through the motions. Even the tone of her voice lacked energy.

You felt like she didn’t want to be there and didn’t want to be touching you - it was as if she was suddenly making no effort to be convincing.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, concerned.

“Everything is just fine,” she said back, forcing a smile.

Before you could say anything else, she walked to her office and closed the door.

You went to your own office and looked over the documents you had to deal with for the day, before heading to Wanda’s office to work on them with her.

You knocked before poking your head in. “Conference room?”

“Sure, I’ll be there in a sec,” Wanda replied coldly, void of any emotion.

You tried to ignore the way she was acting but you couldn’t. It wasn’t her usual cruelty towards you; this was somehow worse.

A few moments after you set up in the conference room, she came in, ignoring you and getting straight to work.

All day, she handed you papers to sign and occasionally put an arm around you when an Osborn employee walked by, swiftly removing it once they were out of sight.

At one point, Stark came in and gave you both a mountain of paperwork to do with a deadline of tomorrow morning at 8am. He apologized and said you could both stay late and get overtime, then left the room to meet his own deadlines.

So now what felt like the longest day of work was actually going to be the longest day of work.

Wanda’s behavior persisted throughout the day and well into your overtime hours. Everyone had left the office so there was no one left to put on a show for and Wanda made sure you knew that.

Her overall coldness towards you was bothering you more than it should’ve and you finally said something.

“You know, this whole relationship act is supposed to be convincing.”

“No one is here now,” she retorted nonchalantly.

“You’ve been acting like this all day.”

“And I’ve been touching you all day and being sweet with you in front of the others,” she said, before looking at you. “What, do you need more? In case you’ve forgotten, this whole relationship act is exactly that - an act.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you said, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach. “Like I’m making this something it isn’t.”

“If the shoe fits,” Wanda replied, going back to her paperwork.

“No.” You stood up. “You don’t get to act like I’m the one blurring the lines between real and fake. You didn’t have to kiss me like that last night, but you did.”

She stood up too. “Maybe someone was watching, Y/N. What do you want me to say? That I wanted to kiss you? That I did it because you’re so irresistible I couldn’t help myself?” she snapped back callously, like she was trying to hurt you.

“I don’t care about the kiss!” You raised your voice. “I care about this promotion and I won’t let you ruin it just because you can’t handle whatever happened last night.”

“Nothing happened last night, it was a kiss. We’ve done it before. It meant nothing!” Wanda yelled back.

“Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?” you said, holding eye contact.

With that, she shoved you against the nearest wall. “I hate you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, before she leaned in and kissed you hard.

Unlike your other kisses with the redhead, this one didn’t start out soft. It was rough and full of emotions. It was fueled by all the feelings swirling around within the two of you that you had yet to vocalize.

You kissed her back, you couldn’t help yourself. Just moments ago she had you on the verge of tears and now here you were, kissing her back like your life depended on it.

Your hands came up to her neck and you deepened the kiss, lips moving against hers purposefully as if you were trying to prove a point.

Your tongues met and mingled, both of you gasping and moaning into each other’s mouths. You didn’t separate until you needed air.

“Just a kiss, huh?” you breathed out, your noses still touching.

“Shut up,” Wanda said back just as breathily.

“Make me,” you challenged, wanting to be difficult but also wanting her to kiss you again.

She leaned back in, lips connecting with yours, kissing you much softer this time. Her tongue met yours and it made you weak in the knees, the slowness of this kiss compared to the roughness of the first one making your head spin. You knew in that moment that you weren’t the only one feeling things.

Her hands found your waist, pinning you against the wall harder, and you moaned against her.

“You like that?” she said way too cockily, the words from her mouth managing to irritate you even when you were just enjoying that same mouth so much.

You flipped your positions, pinning her against the wall and she raised an eyebrow at you. “I like this,” you replied, kissing her again.

You let your hands wander, running up and down her sides, teasing her but not quite going anywhere in particular.

When you squeezed, she moaned into your mouth and you felt a pang of arousal at the sound. You wanted to pull more sounds like that out of her and began slowly untucking her shirt. You slid your hands underneath the fabric, feeling her soft skin beneath your fingers.

“Mmm, stop teasing,” she mumbled in between kisses, giving you permission to touch her more.

Your hands went further up her shirt, palming her breasts over her bra before sliding under. You brushed against her nipples with your thumbs and she moaned again, breaking the kiss.

You didn’t hesitate to trail kisses down her neck, then back up towards her ear, making her whimper as your hands continued to stimulate her sensitive nipples.

You were dragging it out - you wanted to take things slow in case she wanted to stop and you also wanted to tease her as much as possible, almost like you were making her pay for how she always treated you.

You continued your assault on her neck, kissing and sucking every inch of skin you could get your lips on, while she panted against you.

The beautiful sounds leaving her were only turning you on even more and you were slowly realizing that you’d wanted to do this for a while.

“Y/N,” Wanda panted out.

“Yeah?”

“Stop fucking teasing,” she demanded.

“What do you want?” you asked, running your thumbs over her nipples again to get a reaction.

She gasped, grabbing your throat with her hand. “Fuck me,” she said sternly, and how could you say no to her?

“Fuck,” you breathed out, kissing her again and removing your hands from her shirt.

You placed one of your hands on her thigh under her skirt, running it up her skin until you reached her underwear. Your fingers reached her panties, feeling a wet spot on the front of them. You moaned, your arousal skyrocketing at the thought that she was so wet for you.

“Yeah?” she said, teasing you. “Why don’t you stop feeling me up over my panties and fuck me, hm?”

You nodded and pushed her panties aside, feeling her wetness directly against your fingers. The fact that she was so turned on only served to turn you on even more. She wanted this just as much as you did.

Your index finger moved up to rub her clit, making her moan louder this time and if anyone was still in the building, they would’ve heard her.

“You like that?” You mirrored her words from earlier.

She managed to roll her eyes despite the pleasure she was feeling and leaned in to kiss you again, moaning into the kiss when you rubbed faster against her clit.

“Fuck me,” she whispered against your lips. Denying her felt like denying yourself at this point. You slid a finger into her opening, then followed up with a second finger, stretching her out.

She moaned and it was heavenly, making you want to hear her come undone for you. You started a rhythm inside her, fucking into her with purpose. The sounds leaving her lips made you throb with desire, she sounded so beautiful in the throes of pleasure.

You could hear how wet she was, sloshing sounds coming from where your fingers went to work, and it drove you crazy.

“Fuck, I can hear how wet you are,” you said, kissing down her neck again.

“You feel so good,” she panted out, moaning again as you hit a spot inside of her.

The sounds of her pussy were getting to you and you wanted to taste her so badly; you weren’t sure if you wanted her to cum like this first or if you needed your mouth on her before anything else.

“Can I taste you?” you asked, slowing your movements to both prolong her pleasure and delay her orgasm, as well as to give her a second to answer you.

“Fuck, yes,” she said, bucking her hips into your hand for more. “Wanna see you on your knees for me, detka.”

You couldn’t say no to her even if you tried, not when you wanted the same thing so desperately. You dropped to your knees, pulling her skirt up to reveal her pussy, underwear clinging to her folds and the stickiness between her thighs.

You practically drooled at the sight, pushing her panties further to the side to get a better view. You leaned in, kissing her pussy at first, then flicked your tongue against her clit, making her gasp. Her taste was heavenly and you wanted more, your tongue now exploring her eagerly.

“You taste so good, mommy,” you managed to mumble against her, the vibrations of your voice making her hips jerk against your face, which only made you more aroused. When you realized what you said, you almost stopped what you were doing. But a few simple words helped you to not falter too much.

“Call me that again,” Wanda moaned, hips bucking against you as if she was trying to get herself off on your mouth.

“Mommy,” you obeyed, unable to deny her at this point, and equally turned on by the name.

“Fuck. Such a good girl for mommy,” she breathed out, rutting her hips with purpose and grinding her clit against your tongue.

You moaned into her pussy at the praise, licking and sucking at her clit, letting your tongue dip inside her hole with every downstroke.

“Ohh, does my baby have a praise kink?” she cooed, somehow managing to make you flustered and embarrassed while you were bringing her to orgasm.

When you didn’t respond, too enamored with eating her out, she grabbed your chin harshly and made you face her.

“Answer mommy when she asks you a question,” she commanded, keeping you just inches from where you wanted to taste her again.

“Yes,” you whined, breathing heavily with how aroused you were.

“Yes what?”

“Yes mommy,” you said, looking up at her with lust in your eyes.

“Good girl,” she praised, redirecting you back to her dripping cunt, keeping her hand at the back of your head to guide your movements.

She moaned when you made contact again, your lips wrapping around her clit, sucking obediently. You wanted her to cum for you. You wanted to bring her pleasure, to get off on her sounds and her taste, but at the same time, part of you also wanted to assert some kind of dominance over her. She’d bullied you relentlessly since you started working for the same company as her and this was your way of taking back control.

She may have been in charge, with her hand at the back of your head, keeping you close so she could fuck your face the way she wanted to, but you had the power to tip her over the edge she so desperately wanted to reach.

And it was intoxicating.

But then again, everything about Wanda Maximoff was intoxicating. Her beautiful face, her hypnotizing voice, her sense of style, the sway of her hips when she walked, the quickness of her comebacks, and in the current moment, her scent, her taste, her moans, her movements against you. You had never wanted someone so badly in your life and you had her right where you wanted her.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum,” Wanda said, her grip tightening on your hair. Her clit throbbed under your tongue, her hole clenching around nothing as you brought her closer and closer to the edge.

You doubled down on your efforts, wanting to see her fall apart for you. Your index finger teased her folds, dipping into her hole as you sucked on her clit. When you pushed two fingers into her while continuing your stimulation on her hardened bud, she came, moaning your name so prettily as her cum coated your fingers and chin.

You lapped up as much as you could before she began to push you away and pull you back up. She kissed you, tasting herself on your tongue, a deep sound from the back of her throat emerging at the sensation.

“Maybe you can be a good girl after all, hm?” She mused, looking at you lazily as she pulled away from the kiss.

Her hand came down, reaching into your pants and then your panties to feel where you were turned on beyond belief.

“When have I not been one?” you questioned.

“Maybe when you’re talking back to me,” she said, biting her lip.

“I can think of something better I could be doing with my mouth,” you shot back.

Wanda moved her hand so she could really feel you against her, running her fingers up and down your slit.

“God, you’re so wet for me,” Wanda said. “Did I do that?” She asked, continuing to touch you.

You nodded, somewhat distracted as you admired the way she looked in her post-orgasm haze. You wanted her again - one time wasn’t enough.

“Can you go again?” you blurted out, staring at her with such want it almost surprised her. “Please,” you begged, stroking her cheek with your thumb as you looked into her eyes.

“What about you?” She asked.

“Just wanna make you cum again mommy,” you responded, practically pleading.

She couldn’t say no to you at that moment, and she didn’t want to either. “Okay detka, go ahead, make mommy feel good,” she said, her teeth coming down onto her lip as you descended once more.

Sliding her panties off, you brought your mouth down to where she was dripping and slid your tongue as deep as it would go, your thumb coming up to rub circles into her clit.

“Yes, that’s so good,” Wanda cried out, bucking her hips as you fucked into her with your tongue. “Fuck, eat my pussy just like that,” she said, making you moan against her.

After a few moments, she came again, and you licked at her folds until she rode out the aftershocks, twitching against your face. You couldn’t get enough, mouthing at her pussy for as long as you could before she brought you back up once more, staring at you so intimately it made you nervous despite the fact that you’d just done extremely unprofessional things to her in the conference room.

“So, a praise kink and a mommy kink, huh?” She chuckled, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

“Shut up.” You blushed, trying to hide your face in her neck out of embarrassment.

“Make me,” she said, using your own words from earlier against you.

You kissed her to shut her up, and also because you just wanted to. She could taste herself on your lips and on your tongue and it almost made her want to go again. The two of you stayed like that, lips glued to each other, for a long moment before separating, out of breath.

“So was this pretend too or?” You half joked, knowing it wasn’t but also unsure if she would ice you out again after this.

“No,” she started. “This did mean something, despite what I said earlier. I don’t sleep around just to sleep around,” she said earnestly. “I want you.”

You were somewhat surprised she didn’t come back with some snarky remark or crude joke, but you weren’t going to complain when the woman you wanted more than anything was confessing that she felt the same way.

“I want you too,” you uttered, looking down at her lips subconsciously.

“I kinda figured that out when you were getting on your knees for me, sweetheart,” she responded.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, leaning in to kiss her again.

When the two of you broke apart, you spoke again. “So what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“We still have to pretend to date. Can we do that?” you asked.

“We could pretend,” she started. “Or we could just do it.”

“What, date?”

“Yeah, why not?” she questioned, seeming slightly nervous as she proposed the idea.

“I thought you hated me,” you whispered, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. “All this time…”

“I don’t hate you,” Wanda cut in. “I don’t know, it’s complicated.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I guess I just saw myself in you. Someone determined, ambitious, competitive, like a younger version of me. So of course, you were my competition. And I also saw something I wanted but couldn’t have, or so I thought. I never thought you’d want me too. I don’t know, I can’t justify how I treated you, I’m sorry.”

You paused, taking a moment to think everything over before speaking again.

“Look, I don’t know what I want out of this, but I’m willing to see where it goes,” you finally said, hoping she was on the same page.

“I’m okay with that.” She smiled, perhaps out of relief, and brushed some hair out of your face. “Let’s fake it till we make it, yeah?” She joked, making you smile back at her.

“Works for me,” you said, looking at her with an unreadable expression, one which you might later realize was pure devotion. Despite everything you’d been through with her, you were falling fast and there was no way to stop it.

The following week was something of a dream come true. You and Wanda worked together, but this time the only tension present was sexual. You acted like a couple and you didn’t even have to try anymore, it just came naturally.

Wanda’s teasing touches increased tenfold, with her constantly trying to turn you on in the most inappropriate of places, whether it was in Stark’s office with her hand tracing patterns on the small of your back or in the conference room with dirty words whispered in your ear and while everyone was still in the building.

The two of you stayed late a few nights to finish up paperwork, finding that it was hard to get any work done when you were left alone with each other.

You’d made Wanda cum against the conference table more than once and she’d even come home with you one night to continue your activities. You fucked her with your fingers against your front door and again in your bed with your strap, making her see stars every time you had your way with her. It was very quickly becoming one of your favorite ways to relieve stress, especially with the merger increasing your workload.

Mr. Stark was pleased with your “performance,” pulling you aside to tell you that Osborn absolutely adored the two of you and your relationship. You figured once there was a label on things, you’d break it to him that you were actually together now.

You and Wanda had not only been having regular sex, but had been talking about deeper things with each other, including your own history. She opened up about her insecurities and you did the same, kissing each other softly after and then snuggling up to watch a movie.

Wanda stayed over some nights and the following mornings you’d walk to work together, stopping at your favorite coffee shop for a warm drink on the way.

The two dates a week had originally felt like a burden, but now you were grateful for the chance to take your favorite girl on a date twice a week, all expenses paid by the boss. You didn’t care that Osborn employees might be lurking around, you touched Wanda when you wanted to and it had nothing to do with appearances.

Months passed, and the merger was finally coming to a close. Half of Stark Industries’ client base had become regular customers of the Osborn group, and Stark now owned a percentage of Osborn’s company.

You and Wanda maintained your higher positions, still working directly under Stark with a nice pay raise.

You’d asked Wanda to be your official girlfriend a few weeks after your first time sleeping together and she moved in with you two months later.

Stark was surprised to find out the two of you were no longer faking it, but he was happy for you and started calling himself the millionaire matchmaker.

Sometimes the two of you still fought, your snarky and sarcastic personalities unable to be pushed down so easily, but it usually ended with Wanda bent over a surface of the apartment or workplace after hours, with your fingers or your tongue inside her pussy.

If you really pushed her buttons, it ended with your hands tied to the headboard while Wanda touched herself above you and mocked your desperation to be the one giving her pleasure; “bad girls don’t get to touch mommy, so just sit there and look pretty for me,” she would say.

The teasing and the jokes were a huge foundation for your relationship so long as they weren’t taken too far, and you found that you loved that part of her despite how it used to be used against you.

Wanda could be incredibly sweet though and you loved that about her too. She knew when to pick playful fights with you and when to be softer; she knew how to act when you needed reassurance from her and she knew how to make you feel safe.

At the end of the day, you fell hard for the one person you never should’ve fallen for, and you wouldn’t change a thing.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x y/n #enemies to lovers #bottom!wanda maximoff #top!reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff angst #alexa writes

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bambi-lamb · 4 months ago

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seeing green

Summary: So maybe you made a not-so-great choice... in your defense, it was fun at the time. But now, looking at Wanda's raised eyebrow and dark smile, maybe you shouldn't have tried to make her so jealous. Hindsight is everything.

Tags: wanda maximoff x f!reader, 18+, smut, edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, dacryphilia, oral sex, cunnilingus, mommy kink, mean mommy wanda!!

WC: 1,266

A/N: was hit by a spark of irritation— i mean, inspiration, today

You pant loudly in the living room, gasping for breath. The curtains are drawn, only a thin shaft of light spilling onto the rug and one arm of the couch.

Wanda is leaned leisurely back against the couch, smiling darkly up at you as you cry out. Her hand stops for just one moment, and she hums softly as you twitch in her grasp.

"You sure you don't want Avery here instead, detka? You certainly seemed to be having a good time with her."

"No, no— no mommy just want you don't want her please— pleaseplease please let me come," you whine, squirming in Wanda's lap. She allows it for but a moment before her free hand clamps down on your hip again, holding you still.

"Really? I don't think I believe you…"

Wanda licks her lips, tracing soft, slow circles around your clit with the pad of her finger.

"Please, mommy. Don't want her, just want you. Just want mommy," you plead desperately, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

"Hmm," Wanda hums, tutting softly when you whine again. "I don't know if I believe that, detka. You were all over her." Her voice dips dangerously, eyes flashing. You can tell she's displeased, and you flush; she's not wrong—you had been basically attached at the hip to your newest work friend Avery.

Normally, you wouldn't spend so much time with her, but it had been at least a little bit fun to see the way Wanda's jaw worked through her displeasure, and you'd enjoyed the dark glare she'd kept leveled on you the entire night. It sent shivers down your spine, knowing how much she wanted you, and so maybe you'd pushed it a little too far, leaning into Avery heavier or laughing a little brighter than you normally world.

It's not fun now as Wanda stops for probably the 6th or 7th time in a row, bringing you down from the edge of your orgasm and holding you still as tears drip down your face.

"You look so pretty, detka," she murmurs, leaning forward to lick away some of your tears.

You inhale sharply, feeling more tears spill over as she chuckles in the back of her throat.

"Regretting it now, honey?" she coos softly, thumb still pressed to your swollen clit.

"I'm sorry, mommy," you whimper, trying your best attempt at the saddest puppy-dog eyes you can manage, but she doesn't budge.

"Oh, pretty girl, you should've thought about that before you decided to spend the night flirting with Avery." Wanda hums dismissively as you whine and start crying again.

"No use crying over spilled milk, baby," she chuckles. "What's done is done. Maybe next time you'll think twice before you try another little stunt like this one."

"Please, mommy," you beg, wracking your brain for anything you can possibly say to appease Wanda. "Please, I belong to you, mommy."

Wanda looks at you sharply, interest piqued as she tilts her head slightly.

You chase the tail end of your declaration eagerly, perking up as you continue babbling.

"I'm yours, mommy, please. I just want you. I'm all yours."

Her thumb restarts its slow rhythm against your clit, and you nearly sob with relief, chasing the feeling as your mouth runs on and on without a single thought.

"Belong to mommy, please, just for mommy, all yours."

Her thumb is firm against your clit, and you shiver at the stimulation — it's too much and not enough all at once, and you yelp softly when she begins rubbing faster. Her entire hand is dripping wet, no thanks to you, but she just keeps looking up at you, encouraging the deluge of words flooding out of you.

"Please, mommy, please let me come, please."

Just as you reach the very edge, Wanda stops again, and you feel the tears restart without warning, pouring down your face as you whimper desperately.

"Tell me who you belong to again, baby," she coos, brushing your tears away with her thumb this time.

"You, mommy, please," you whine. "Belong to you."

"Then how come you were basically sitting on Avery's lap the whole night, huh?"

You sob softly, tears drip-dripping unstoppably now.

"Because I wanted to make you jealous, mommy," you hiccup, whining when Wanda presses down on your clit.

"And have you learned your lesson, detka?"

You nod fervently, abashed and apologetic. Wanda hums absently, but her thumb starts moving again, and you melt into the touch.

"Please, mommy, I belong to you," you profess eagerly, tears still flowing.

"It's okay, detka, I know. Be a good girl and tell me again, why don't you? Whose girl are you, hm?"

"Your girl, mommy," you hiccup softly, moaning when she loosens her grip on your hip and lets you start to rock against her finger.

"Again, detka, say it again," she whispers, eyes sharp and intense.

"I belong to you, mommy. I'm all yours. Please."

"One more time, baby, I just wanna hear you say it one more time and then you can come, okay?"

Wanda looks nearly feral, her pupils blown as she leans into your space, her thumb rubbing fast, tight circles over your clit. You can't help but shiver, gushing against her hand again as your orgasm fast-approaches.

"I'm yours, Wanda," you murmur, softening as you see her breathe a shuddery sigh of relief. You also lean forward, drawn to her magnetic allure, and meet her in the middle for a feverish kiss.

"Mine," she mumbles as she nibbles on your bottom lip, thumb rubbing furiously over your clit.

You jolt back, crying out as she drives her index and middle finger into your cunt, working double-time in an effort to make you come.

"Come for me, baby. You can come now," she's murmuring into your neck, but you can barely tell she's saying anything at all, the vibrations of sound a distant consideration as your vision whites out completely.

When you come to again, she's rearranged you entirely so you're lying down on the couch. You have a moment to just blink and breathe as sound and feeling returns to you, and as soon as you can feel your fingertips again, you whimper.

Wanda, tucked between your thighs, is licking softly at your cunt, dark green eyes intent on your expression.

You tremble your way through another orgasm, shivering as she crawls up the length of your body to settle herself on your chest.

"You did such a good job, detka," she murmurs softly, leaning up for a soft kiss.

"Felt good," you whisper in return, blushing lightly when she grins into your neck.

She reaches up to run her fingers through your hair, and sits up momentarily to reach for a blanket that she promptly pulls over top of both of you. As you lie on the couch, you hear Wanda's breath slowly even out, and your eyes begin to droop.

Clearly, though, she isn't really asleep, because you hear her voice, softer and more hesitant, float up.

"You don't actually like her that much, do you?"

You smother your grin against the top of her head and pull her up for another kiss, this one longer and warmer.

"No, I don't," you reply easily, watching the way the crease between her eyebrows smooths over and she finally seems to relax.

"I love you and only you," you murmur softly. "You're my favorite person."

She hums contentedly and presses a kiss to your chin.

"I love you too, detka."

She sits up momentarily, squinting at you suspiciously.

"But don't do that again."

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #bambiblurbs

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wandaslovey · 6 months ago

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ɪꜱ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ, ᴅᴇᴛᴋᴀ?

➺ dom!wandanat x sub!fem!reader

word count ~ 7.2k

summary: as you settle into your relationship with your two new dominants, they want to show you it’s not all about kinkery. however, their plan backfires when you run into an old friend while on a picnic date. it seems..necessary for them to remind you of who you now belong to.

authors note: part 3!!!! i cannot apologize enough for how long it took me to get this one out! writers block had me in a chokehold and then choke slammed me onto the table. i hope this lives up to the hype! <3 this part takes place a couple of months after the contract has been signed. this is not proofread.

content warning(s): legal age gap, dom/sub dynamics, mommy!wanda, daddy!natasha, sub!reader, subspace, some fluff, jealous wandanat, sort of punishment? (more like claiming), possession, fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, light bondage, dirty talk, a teensie weensie bit of aftercare

venturing is inevitable: masterlist

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you hear light chuckling in your left ear, followed by the sensation of gentle kisses being bestowed along the right side of your face. you make a small sound, your nose scrunching at the attention your face was getting. you peek your eyes open, blinking rapidly as you adjust to the morning light bathing the master bedroom. the curtains were light, allowing the sun to stream in and brighten the room as it rose with the day.

“good morning, dragotsennaya,” you hear natasha murmur in her warm voice. in the near 2 months you’d moved in with the power couple, you’d since learned the russian term of endearment meant ‘precious’ which would then usually be tossed in different variations like “precious girl” or “precious thing.” you’d melted when you first learned what they meant. both women truly did view you as the most precious, adorable thing on earth.

“mmm, morning,” you mumble out, closing your eyes again and turning on your right side to face wanda. she was still planting gentle kisses on your cheeks and nose, trying to coax you from your peaceful slumber.

you’d grown used to sleeping between them. there was a spare bedroom for their submissive should they choose to use it, but you never wanted to be apart from them, so you always opted for sleeping in their large bed with them—which they never complained.

when you stubbornly refused to open your eyes despite wanda’s incessant kisses and natasha’s hand running up and down your arm, wanda opts for something else to get you awake and out of bed.

“you know what sounds like a good breakfast this morning?” wanda begins her little game, her tone of voice easily catching your attention as she speaks over you to address her wife.

“what’s that?” natasha plays along, quickly gathering where wanda was heading with her little quip.

“waffles.. with chocolate chips..” wanda speaks slowly, glancing down at your face with a grin as she notices your eyes peel open, a cute smile of your own gracing your lips.

“i’m up!” you proclaim cheerily, quickly sitting up in bed. the covers fall off of you, revealing the simple tank top they’d redressed you in after last nights “activities.”

they both chuckle affectionately at your sudden wakeful state simply at the promise of having your favorite breakfast.

“i’ll race you downstairs.” natasha challenges in a low voice, a teasing grin curling her lips upward as she throws her legs over the bed and briskly heads for the bedroom door.

“no! i wasn’t ready!” you squeak, clambering up out of the bed. you barely register the cool air on your naked legs, just a pair of panties covering your lower half. natasha has mercy on you, allowing you to all but shove past her to throw open the door and run down the stairs.

wanda calls after the two of you, telling you to be careful, but you both ignore her, throwing caution to the wind as you hurry down the stairs.

there were many things you’d come to learn about both wanda and natasha in the months you’d been here. one of them being that natasha hated to lose. she was as competitive as a person could be, so when she saw you land on the hard wood flooring after leaping off the last step, she put more force into her jog and made up the extra space between the two of you.

just as you were about to make it to the kitchen, natasha comes up behind you and wraps her arms around your torso. she effortlessly lifts you up and drops you off to the side, setting you off balance. before you can scramble to get back on course, natasha had already successfully set foot in the kitchen, making you the loser.

“hey, that wasn’t fair! you cheated!” you protest, crossing your arms over your chest as you march over to where she was standing by the kitchen island. she wasn’t even winded.

“i didn’t cheat. it’s called strategy.” she grins, tapping your nose. you huff at her response, swatting her hand away from your face.

“that’s a load.” you grumble, your eyes narrowing at natasha’s haughty expression. a flicker of sternness passes over her face as you hit her hand away, as if she was a little surprised at your audacity.

“i’m going to let that slide, only because you have the most adorable sore loser face…” her firm expression turns back into an amused look as she leans down and gets close to your face. you pout as she mocks you, her lips kissing your adorable droopy lip before she pulls away, intent on starting breakfast.

wanda makes her way down the stairs and to the kitchen, following the sound of light banter. she comes up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and kissing your jaw. your wrap your arms around hers, melting back into her affection as you watch natasha gather the ingredients for the waffle mixture.

“natalia, dumayu, segodnya ya khochu poprobovat'.” she speaks over your shoulder in their secret language. it frustrated you just as much as it turned you on. whenever they didn’t want you to know something, they’d revert to speaking in russian.

once, you’d questioned how they both knew the language. you were surprised to learn that it was actually natasha’s native language and that wanda had learned it when she studied abroad in russia for two years—where they’d met.

you wished you could learn the language, if nothing else to de-code the secret remarks they’d make right in front of your face, but you weren’t patient enough to try and learn a second language.

natasha smiles at whatever wanda said, simply nodding her head. you feel wanda’s hands slide back a little bit, her fingertips making their way beneath your tank top to caress the soft skin there. you shiver, goosebumps rising on your arms at the delicate touch. her hands travel further upwards before descending back down your sides. she gives your hips a small squeeze, planting a kiss on your head before unwrapping herself from around you all together and pulling away.

you frown at the loss, turning to face her before she can walk away. you reach for her hands, your expression silently trying to convey your wants.

she chuckles at your pleading look, giving your hands a squeeze. “i have to help make breakfast. you wanna help me and daddy?” she asks in a gentle voice, her thumb rubbing across the back of your hand.

between wanda’s affection and the use of their honorifics, you could feel the beginning stages of that foggy feeling in your brain. you simply nod your head, allowing wanda to pull you further into the kitchen.

you all weave gracefully through each other as the three of you make breakfast, almost like it was a practiced routine. you took notice of natasha’s lingering hands on your hips as she snuck behind you and the way wanda gently held your hand to whisk the ingredients in the bowl before letting go.

it took a little bit of time for you at first to comfortably transition from having a clear head to a foggy one—one that relied so heavily on wanda and natasha that you deeply craved to be told each and every move to make—but you quickly became fond of it. they were your safe space and maybe the only place where you could fully allow all your inhibitions go.

natasha sets the table with plates and kitchenware just as you and wanda scooped up the last batch of waffles from the hot iron.

“kay, bring these over to daddy.” wanda turns you towards the kitchen table, patting your bum as you walk away obediently with the plate of waffles. you bring the food over to the table, setting the plate next to some fresh fruit and the pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice.

one thing you’d learned about wanda was that she loved to garden, so whenever produce was involved it usually came from there instead of the store.

as you move to sit down, natasha is hasty in slithering to sit in the chair before you can, pulling you back into her lap. you smirk, wiggling your hips back against her.

“what? i can’t feed myself?” you joke, twisting your body so you can face natasha just as wanda takes the seat adjacent to you both at the end of the table.

“no.” she replies simply, taking you a bit off guard. your remark was meant to be a light quip, but natasha seemed serious in her reply. without any further explanation, she grabs a plate from the small stack set in front of you and uses her fingers to grab two waffles to put on the dish.

you watch as she uses the fork to cut a square off the waffle before stabbing it through the center and bringing it up towards your lips. you press them together stubbornly, feeling embarrassed at the notion of being fed like a small child.

you were very independent by nature, having had to learn how to care for yourself at a very young age. the way wanda and natasha had the tendency to coddle you was pleasant, but still slightly foreign even after these past months.

natasha sees the internal conflict flicker over your face, coloring your features with a stubborn expression. she was learning though that at your core, you wanted to be a good girl.

“open up, detka,” she coaxes, delicately twirling her fork in teasing manner. you frown slightly, glancing from the fork over to wanda as if you were looking for her to intervene. she simply nods back towards the fork in an encouraging manner, not providing you with the out you were looking for.

figuring you should just bite the bullet and let natasha feed you, you part your lips and accept the bite of waffle she was offering you.

“we thought we could have a picnic lunch at central park today—does that sound fun?” wanda asks casually as she serves some berries on her plate. you nod your head in agreement, always eager to spend extra time with them on the weekends when you had no school and they didn’t have to go into the office.

as natasha continues to feed you your waffle, she sneaks in bites of her own. wanda reaches over after you swallow your last bite, holding a raspberry just inches from your lips. you don’t hesitate this time to open your mouth and allow her to feed you the berry. you chew the fruit thoughtfully, swallowing it and you notice wanda has a pleased expression on her face.

“you’re awfully cute, milaya, you know that?” wanda traces down the slope of your nose, gently pinching the softest part before dropping her hand. you open your mouth to protest, but knowing what you might say, natasha quickly feeds you another bite of waffle. you turn to face her, narrowing your eyes slightly at her playful force feeding.

you finish the rest of your breakfast without protest or complaint, allowing the two of them to spoil and baby you. once everyone was done, you all help to clean up the table. you always did your best to do your part, helping around the house and cleaning up after yourself. plus, you liked doing everything with them. you never wanted to miss a moment.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

you rock back and forth on your toes, waiting for wanda and natasha to finish gathering all the things you need for the picnic. your hand is on the garage door handle, the door gently swaying from left to right as it rocks with your own movement. you feel carefree, not a single worry in your head. that was mostly thanks to both wanda and natasha coddling you this morning, but it was also the fact that you knew there was nothing to be stressed or worried about as long as you were with them.

natasha had dressed you today. it was late spring, so it was finally okay weather for things like summer dresses. you had on a maroon spaghetti strap dress going down to your mid thigh. you didn’t normally wear anything red or within the family of reds, but natasha insisted the color looked beautiful on your skin tone.

“i see someone is ready and eager to go,” natasha comments as she and wanda finally walk down the hallway leading to where you were standing by the garage door.

“i am! let’s go already!” your excitement is clear in your tone. it was the first day all week the three of you had time to really connect and unplug from all other responsibilities. you were waiting on pins and needles for finals to be over so you could finally enjoy your summer break, but for now—weekends would suffice.

natasha pinches your side on the way out as you hold the door open for them, wanda affectionately grabbing your chin and giving it a small squeeze. you follow after wanda, the door swinging shut behind you.

“can i drive??” you ask eagerly, already heading to the drivers side even though you hadn’t yet received an answer. they had three cars—one for natasha, one for wanda and one for “joy rides.” it was an indulgence natasha simply could not surpass, since she loved driving fast and had a secret love for lavish cars. she didn’t take it out much and you had yet to see wanda use it, but despite your desire to obey traffic laws like speed limits—you did want to try driving it someday.

“we’re not taking that car, bunny. we’re taking wanda’s. c’mon let’s go.” natasha gestures for you to get into the backseat on the drivers side. she started calling you bunny shortly after her and wanda both observed you hopped around like a little bunny whenever you were on your way to or fully in your floaty headspace. it was cute, but you had yet to admit to either of them just how much you liked it.

you pout at tasha’s response, but otherwise swiftly obey and climb into the seat behind her. despite it being wanda’s car, whenever the three of you went anywhere, natasha always drove. she claimed it was because she liked driving, but you were almost positive it was really because she didn’t think wanda drove fast enough.

“here, baby.” wanda stretches the cord for the aux cable so it can reach you. you slide to the middle seat, grabbing it from her and plugging your phone in.

as natasha pulls out of the garage, you buckle before either of them can throw a stink about it.

“what’re we feeling today?” you ask, referring to the music. you took having the aux very seriously. you never wanted anyone in the car to be having a miserable time listening to your music, so you always aimed to please to the best of your ability.

“not country.”

“anything really.”

the two of them answer in unison. you smile to yourself, your finger resting up against your lip as you scroll through different playlists, trying to decide what to play. you settle on your “vibey” playlist which had a lot of alternative and electronic music on it. it was one of your favorites to listen to.

you spend the first part of the drive staring out the window, watching the landscape as it zooms past the glass. it didn’t take long for you to start singing quietly to yourself—a habit of yours when you were zoning out. wanda notices immediately, smiling to herself and glancing back at you from the rear view mirror. trying to be discreet, she reaches for the volume, turning it down ever so slightly so she could hear you better. you didn’t like to sing for people, despite being told you had a good voice. you were sure people were just saying that because that’s the nice thing to say to people.

you stop singing altogether when wanda turns it down just a tad more and you suddenly decide your own voice sounds much too loud.

wanda scoffs, rolling her eyes as she turns her neck to look back at you. “you little sneak. why won’t you let us hear you sing?” she asks, seeming all too interested in your secret talent.

you shrug nonchalantly, flicking an imaginary piece of lint off the hem of your dress. you didn’t want to tell her it was because you were embarrassed. you’d learned that admitting such a thing would only lead to being more embarrassed about the thing you were already embarrassed about.

“i’ve heard her sing.” natasha cuts in, both you and wanda looking to her.

“you have not.” you rebuttal in disbelief, looking at her in the rear view mirror.

“i have. you sing in the shower.” she says simply, a smirk curving her lips upward. she seemed all too amused at your reaction for your liking.

“i’m so quiet when i sing in there! there’s no way you can hear it..” you insist, though really you were trying to push to see if she was being honest or just pulling your leg.

“it’s not too quiet when i have my ear pressed up against the door.” she sniffs, the car slowing down as you approach the city. the traffic would slow the drive immensely.

this side of natasha surprised you at first—the silly, almost boyish attitude she seemed to have at times. wanda’s personality was more straight forward. there were some things that surprised you and would probably continue to surprise you—but natasha? the many aspects of her personality were being peeled back layer by layer. in less than three months you’ve learned there’s much more to her than the big, scary, intimidating lawyer she was at the office.

“wow. just wow. thanks. now i have to revert to only singing whenever i have the house to myself.” you roll your eyes, only jokingly exasperated. natasha blindly reaches back behind her, squeezing your knee. you nudge her hand away, scooting so you weren’t so accessible.

“now that you said that, i’ll have to install cameras in the house—catch you in the act. i don’t want to miss anything.” she says, grinning to herself at the thought.

“hey!” you unbuckle your seatbelt, sitting forward and smacking her on the arm. “do. not. even think about it.” you try to sound stern, but it pales in comparison to how either of them sound when they mean business.

natasha locks eyes with yours in the rear view mirror, her expression easily meaner than yours. “do you want to try that again, little girl?” you cower immediately, sitting back against the back seat, your shoulders slumped forward.

you give her an apologetic look through the mirror, folding your arms in your lap.

“put your seatbelt back on, detka.” wanda commands in a gentle tone—more gentle than natasha’s tone just was. you’re hasty to comply, the buckle clicking in place just seconds after she asked you to. you were so obedient more times than not. it was something they both loved about you. you still had your testy moments, but by enlarge you really did like being their good girl.

many stoplights and cutting people off later, you arrive at the park. natasha parks in a metered spot on the south side. you hop out of the car, bounding off in the direction of where you intend to set up for the picnic.

“(y/n), slow down! wait for tasha and i.” wanda scolds you gently. you skip back over to her, almost running right into her side as you approach. “carefully bunny.” she steadies you but you can hardly care as you grin up at her, simply excited to be here with them.

“alright, let’s go.” she laces her fingers through yours with her free hand, the other carrying the blanket you would all sit on. natasha walks in front of the two of you, leading the way as she carries a decent-sized cooler in her hand.

once you make it to the grassy area, wanda picks a spot, laying the large blanket out neatly so there aren’t any lumps or wrinkles. natasha sets the cooler down and you plop down before the two of them have even begun to sink to the ground. you open up the lid to the food basket, setting out the plastic cutlery. wanda helps you divvy out the food—sandwiches and fruit. you pour yourself some homemade sweet tea, taking a sip and humming appreciatively to yourself. everything tasted better when it was made from wanda’s hands—or natasha’s for that matter, but wanda did much more cooking and food prep than natasha did.

you take a bite of your sandwich, wanda briefly explaining something about a client to natasha as you nibble away at your food. you were in your own little world, happy and content to be just where you were with the women you were with.

you were chewing another bite when someone from a distance shouted your name. natasha caught onto it before you did, her eyes scanning through the people scattered across the grass in small groupings.

you hear it the third time, relinquishing your hold on your sandwich to search for the person belonging to the voice calling your name. you press your hand against your forehead, attempting to shield the brightness of the sun so you could see better. your eyes suddenly zero in on the person shouting for you. it was your old roommate.

“hey!!!” you call back after her, leaping to your feet and half running the distance over to where she was standing. the two of you embrace happily, and you feel her squeeze you tightly before finally letting you go. you loved your old roommate. she was exactly the sort of person you wanted in your life forever. you wondered what she was doing back here so soon after moving back home.

“what’re you doing here?? did you bring your family?” you ask her, glancing around to see if you saw anyone else you recognized. she explained that she was with her parents and was going to spend the weekend taking them to the many touristy places the city had to offer.

as the two of you catch up, you excitedly relay to her how your studies were going and how the one professor that seemed to have it out for you was now much less harsh with feedback and grading. you left out the detail about how natasha was the one to take care of that—not feeling quite up to explaining your current situation with the two most respected and feared lawyers in new york city.

“so did you find a new roommate? i know the rent is damn near impossible to cover on your own..” your friend asks casually, flipping her pretty hair behind her shoulder. there was a time when you had a little crush on her, but she never knew about it.

“oh! uh.. not exactly. but! i did find a way to continue paying for it..” you reply vaguely, clearing your throat as you try and quickly think of a new topic of conversation. she beats you to it.

“what do you mean? did you finally cave and start selling feet pics?” she playfully nudges you with her elbow, reminding you of an old joke you used to pull out often. you laugh with her, though yours sounded a little nervous. you didn’t want to tell her how your rent, tuition and student loans were currently all being paid by previously mentioned, hot, successful lawyers.

it was a battle you picked with the two of them for weeks, insisting they didn’t need to pay for any of your things. however, the persisted and ultimately made you agree to the fact that, as long as you were their submissive, all of your financial needs would be taken care of by them.

“no, it’s not that,” your nervous laughter dies off and you awkwardly scratch the side of your arm, glancing in the direction of where wanda and natasha were sitting. your roommate follows where your eyes go, her own widening in slight surprise as she connects the dots.

“holy shit—are you with them??” she asks, vaguely pointing a finger in their direction. you shrug, smiling sheepishly as you suddenly feel like a little kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“girl—what?! how??” you laugh lightly at her eager interest, placing a hand on her arm as you shush her. her excitement caused her voice to raise about two octaves.

“keep your voice down..” you chide although with a smile still on your face. you weren’t sure how to begin telling her the story. there was so much to it. you take a breath, preparing yourself to share the condensed version, but as you glance in wanda and natasha’s direction again, you notice the two of them are staring at you intently. the intensity of both their looks causes goosebumps to rise on your arms, your spine straightening. it was an unspoken command to come back.

“i probably shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.. but i’ll call you soon and we’ll continue to catch up, yeah?” you smile, though you suddenly feel rushed to get back to your girlfriends’ side.

your roommate looks at you suspiciously but agrees nevertheless to have you call her another time. she pulls you into another embrace, and you give her a friendly squeeze, silently conveying your love and appreciation for her. you say your final goodbyes, your hands reached out to hold the other before dropping as you walk your separate ways.

as you approach the two women sitting on the quilted blanket, you opt for heading towards the one who currently has the more welcoming energy—natasha in this case—plopping down next to her.

“who was that?” she asks, looking back in your roommates direction as she walks off to meet back with her parents.

“my old roommate.” you reply simply, intent on returning to eating the sandwich you were enjoying before you got up to greet your friend. as nothing but silence met your response, you look up and glance in between wanda and natasha. wanda had a strange expression on her face—one you hadn’t seen before. her eyes were hard and serious, her lips pressed in a firm line, but there was something of a daring glint in her eye as if she was thinking something she wasn’t going to say out loud.

“you two seemed close,” she blurts out after several seconds. you take a bite of your sandwich, the food sitting heavily on your tongue as you chew it slowly. there was something about the change in wanda and natasha’s demeanor—wanda’s especially—that had you feeling a little uneasy.

“i mean, we lived together so we became kind of close. she’s a great friend.” you keep your tone light, sensing there was some.. jealousy? you couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was they were feeling about your interaction.

“you’re not..jealous..are you?” you look at wanda as you ask the question. natasha looks to wanda too, knowing all too well what was running through her mind.

wanda looks off into the distance, squinting slightly at the brightness of the sun and she smirks. “jealous? no. i just haven’t ever seen you interact with another girl your age before. i’m not sure i like it.” her tone was thoughtful, almost reminiscent. you study her expression, unsure how to take what she said before she inclines her head back towards you.

“oh.” you reply stupidly, no other response coming to mind. your eyes drift from wanda’s, looking off in the distance now just as she had before.

“(y/n).” wanda calls your attention back to her. your eyes snap back to her impossibly green ones.

“yes?” you reply softly.

“you belong to me—to us. you know that, don’t you?” she asks, sitting forward so she was leaning in your direction.

“yes.” you respond, nodding your head in quick agreeance.

“yes, who?” she prompts, quirking a perfectly kempt brow at you.

you swallow thickly, your eyes darting around your surroundings to see if anyone was standing close enough to hear. when your eyes meet wanda’s once more, you have a slight nervous expression on your face, feeling embarrassed at addressing her with her honorific in public.

“yes, mommy.” you relent with a quiet reply, wanting to please her despite your discomfort.

“say it all together now.” she directs, reaching out to grab your wrists. she guides you forward, pulling you till you’re sitting in her lap. you can’t help but glance anxiously around the park, hoping that nobody was paying close attention to this public display of affection.

your cheeks burn with embarrassment, the pink color on your cheeks complimenting the maroon dress you had on.

“i belong to you, mommy—you and daddy.” you half whisper, squirming in her lap as you fiddle with your dress, making sure all the important parts were still covered.

wanda smiles, pleased with your response despite your shyness. she caresses the back of your head, pecking your lips before looking over your shoulder to natasha.

“we’re going home.” she announces with an air of finality, leaving no room for questioning.

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

the drive back home was silent. you buckled in before natasha put the car into drive. wanda never offered you the aux, so you watched out the window quietly the whole way home. you were squirming in your seat, sensing a certain type of tension you were only now becoming accustomed too. you knew you weren’t in trouble, but something was going to happen. you were sure of it.

as natasha pulls into the driveway, you can feel butterflies flapping around in your stomach. there was dull ache between your thighs as you thought of the way wanda responded to your impromptu conversation with your old roommate. you didn’t realize it before now, but you decided you liked the idea of being owned—possessed. which was exactly what wanda was aiming to convey.

natasha puts the car into park and just as you’re unbuckling your seatbelt, wanda turns back to face you. “head straight upstairs into our bedroom. don’t take any clothes off for now. just wait for us on the bed.” she instructs you. you nod your head and hop out of the car, quickly making your way to the master bedroom from the garage.

your footsteps are quick and calculated; they echo off the walls as you bound up the stairs. as you approach the bedroom, you push open the door which was open a crack already. the bed was made and the room was free of clutter. normally this scene of cleanliness and order would put you at ease, but now, it only reminded you of the two women downstairs—and how neat they liked things to be kept.

you swallow thickly, turning to face the door as you sit on the end of the bed. your legs dangle just slightly, the bed tall enough that your legs didn’t quite reach the floor. you bounce one of them nervously, chewing on your bottom lip as you eye the open door. you can hear the garage door closing, indicating that wanda and natasha were now inside the house. you hear them exchange some words, though you’re unable to make out anything as it’s in russian. you can make out the sound of some rummaging, like dropping down bags and setting keys on the table. every second that passes, you feel your body growing more tense with anticipation. your eyes fall to the floor, focusing on one spot in which you make out imaginary shapes and lines.

your eyes snap back to the door frame when you hear two sets of footsteps heading up the stairs. from where you were sitting, you’d be able to see them as soon as they stood on the landing. you mentally brace yourself, your every sense alight.

it’s natasha you see first. her shoulder length blonde hair in delicate curls that frame her pretty face. her face is smooth, giving nothing away as her green eyes lock onto yours. you only glance away once wanda steps into view, her eyes appraising your compliance; you’d done exactly what she asked you to do.

natasha steps directly in front of you, her face a head above yours. you tilt your head up to look at her, your eyes alert and observant, but you’re unable to hide the gnawing sense of nervousness coursing through your body.

natasha leans down, your faces now just inches apart. she licks her lips, watching your cheeks bloom with color at her closeness.

“are you nervous, dragotsennaya?” her accent bleeds into her words, causing your thighs to clench unconsciously. you shrug one shoulder in a noncommittal gesture.

“maybe a little bit…” your voice is soft and delicate which doesn’t exactly not align with just how you’re feeling in this moment.

“maybe a little bit?” natasha echoes your words in an equally soft voice, her switch up of tone indicative of faux sympathy. your bottom lip juts out at her obvious teasing and your eyes dart to the side in search for wanda’s.

“you guys aren’t mad at me, are you?” you search for the gentleness normally residing behind wanda’s stare as you look at her. you can see a glimmer of it, but mostly you see a darkness there—something you’ve only gotten a small glimpse of before. it was the sort of look that made your bones melt, like she was silently trying to communicate her need to devour you.

“oh sweet girl.. we’re not mad at you. we just want to make sure we properly convey the way in which we own you.” wanda says, her words meant to be somewhat placating, but they had the opposite effect. she stalks towards you, standing right next to her wife. you look between the two of them with a blank expression on your face, your heart now beginning to race in your chest.

“i’m…i..i know that..” you sputter out. natasha reaches a hand up, rubbing her thumb along your bottom lip as you look at her wife with a pleading expression. pleading for what? you’re not sure.

“i know you do, baby. i just want to hear you say it over and over again…” wanda leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that surprises you. your body leans back with the force of it, your hands hesitantly coming to rest on her biceps. wanda captures your wrists with her hands, pinning them behind your back as she nudges you back against the bed and covers your body with her own.

you whimper as she parts your lips with her tongue. the kiss was slow but forceful, your mind becoming cloudy the more she explored your mouth.

her free hand comes up and grabs under your chin, holding your face in place so you can’t escape even to take a breath. you were more so used to this aggression from natasha, not wanda, so it surprised you when she suddenly bit down on your lip, the force of it causing you to moan in surprise.

she breaks free, your lips parting with a resounding pop before she kisses down your neck. you gasp for air, your hands twitching in her grasp as they yearn to tangle themselves in her hair. you’re unable to linger on that thought though as you feel natasha’s fingers tracing along your thigh where your dress has ridden up.

“you look so pretty like this, milaya… gasping for air while my wife gives you little love bites.” natasha muses, her hand now grabbing a fistful of the fat of your thigh. you squirm underneath their touch, fighting more earnestly to get your arms free.

wanda relinquishes her attack on your neck with a firm bite, pulling away to admire her work. several blotches of purple and red are smattered across the skin, not too far off from the color of your dress.

“stand up.” wanda demands as she pulls you to your feet. you falter to the side, feeling unbalanced as you were suddenly upright. she doesn’t give you time to adjust before she’s pulling your dress over your head. you try to match her haste, reaching for her own clothes as she undresses you. she catches your wrists again, pinning them to your sides.

“oh no. not now, pretty girl. let’s not deviate from what this is really about.” she’s quick with removing your undergarments. as you stand there naked before the two of them, wanda pauses for the first time since she’s attacked you. you can see ideas forming together in her eyes as she drinks in your naked body.

“mogu li ya prikosnut'sya k ney seychas?” natasha asks her wife.

wanda appraises you for another moment, a smile stretching across her lips as she runs a finger down your arm.

“ty mozhesh' sdelat' bol'she, chem eto.” she responds, moving past you to crawl up the bed. you glance behind you, unsure what was going on. your skin felt like it was on fire, the anticipation causing your arousal to now start to drip down onto your thighs.

“come here.” wanda curls her finger, directing you to come sit on her lap from her spot on the bed. you crawl up to her, beginning to straddle her lap, but she stops you.

“ah ah, the other way.” she places her hands on your hips, turning your body so your back was against her front. she spreads her legs, settling you in between them. the fabric of her pants rubs against your bare legs, causing you to shiver. if it weren’t for your fuzzy brain, you might feel embarrassed about your nakedness and the lack thereof from both wanda and natasha.

natasha makes her way up onto the bed, her body slithering up as she maneuvers so she’s laying on her stomach, her face just inches away from your now weeping core.

“spread your legs wider, baby… yeah.. just like that.” wanda praises as she guides your legs apart so your feet were hooked under the outer part of her spread ankles.

“fuck, if this isn’t my new favorite sight..” natasha’s eyes drink in the two of you, your exposed body unable to sit still as you begin to grind your hips into the air. she runs her hands up the outside of your thighs, sliding inward. her finger teases your slit, running down and gathering the wetness collecting at your hole.

you whine, your back arching off wanda’s front into natasha’s touch. they were used to this—your whining and whimpering. you never said much when they had you all needy like this. you were much too shy for your own good.

natasha kisses up your thigh, her tongue darting out to taste the skin where there was a crevice where your thigh and core met. she moans at the flavor. your hands twitch again, drifting along your torso till they rest atop of natasha’s head.

“hands at your side. or mommy’s gonna have to tie them behind your back. do you understand?” wanda chides, moving your hands away from natasha’s hair. you pant, nodding your head against her.

“say it.” she demands.

“yes, mommy,” you whimper pathetically, your hips wriggling in between her thighs. your eyes drift closed, your head lolling against wanda’s shoulder as you try not to combust from the slow build up.

just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, natasha’s tongue slips in between your folds, licking along your slit. you gasp at the feeling of her hot breath as she works her mouth against you. your hips grind into her, her hands coming up to try and still your movements.

she hums against your pussy, your moans filling the air as she eats you out like you’re the most delicious thing to walk the earth.

wanda’s hands run up and down your sides, eventually settling on your breasts as she gives them both a firm squeeze. her fingers circle your pretty nipples as natasha’s tongue circles your clit. when wanda pinches your nipples, natasha sucks your clit into her mouth, and when wanda twists your nipples, natasha gently nibbles at your bundle of nerves. they moved so in sync with one another, you’d think this was a practiced routine. they played your body like an instrument they’d been practicing on for years.

moans and whines spill from your lips, your body wriggling around as much as the two women would allow you to.

“does this feel good, baby? do you like daddy’s tongue licking your pretty pussy while mommy plays with your sensitive little nipples?” wanda murmurs in your ear. you whine, nodding your head against her again.

“use your words, (y/n). tell me.” she pinches your nipples, twisting them harshly when you hesitate.

“y-yes mommy!” you gasp out, feeling natasha fuck two fingers inside of you. the stretch felt wonderful, the slight sting only adding to the pleasure you were feeling.

“hmm, you know something, little girl? nobody is ever going to make you feel this good. just mommy and daddy. our girl. our sweet, precious little girl..” as wanda speaks, natasha’s tongue and fingers move more quickly, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. you moan louder, the sounds higher in pitch, indicating you were getting close to falling over the edge.

“you can’t cum, baby. not until i hear you say you’re ours..” wanda speaks the words slowly, emphasizing the last word by tweaking your nipples.

“mmfph.. yours.. ‘m yours..” you pant, your hips grinding earnestly against natasha’s face now.

“louder.” she commands.

you arch your back again, your body writhing between the sensations blooming across your whole body as they expertly play with you.

“eto slishkom mnogo? is it too much, detka?” wanda coos, her tone contrasting with the roughness of her touch.

“please! please!! ‘m gonna cum!” you squeak, your words meant to be a warning as you knew you couldn’t hold it much longer.

“don’t you fucking dare. say it.” she says darkly. between wanda’s words, natasha’s fingers curling perfectly against your g spot and her tongue lapping at your clit while wanda tortures your nipples, you were about to implode.

“yours!! i’m yours!! i’m all yours! yours and daddy’s! no one else can make me feel this good!” you half shout in desperation, the coil about to snap.

“that’s it… come on baby, cum for us.” she croons, her lips directly against your ear. your body shakes, all your muscles tightening at once before you fall over the edge. your hips roll against natasha’s face in time with the waves of your orgasm. neither of them stop their ministrations until your body finally goes limp and you slump back against wanda.

natasha places one last searing kiss to your sensitive clit, chuckling softly as she leans up on her arms, pecking you on your lips.

“take some deep breaths, baby. we’re not done just yet.” she speaks softly, your eyes open but unfocused as you look at her. she caresses the side of your face and you barely register wanda’s hands caressing up and down your arms.

you whimper, your eyes closing as your body feels spent. you hear both of them chuckle at your expense, their hands sliding all over your sensitive skin.

you were in for a long evening.

——————————

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wandaverse · 6 months ago

Text

meet me in the pale moonlight.

vampire countess!wanda x human painter!reader

summary: In the early 1870s, the young and renowned Y/N arrives in the bustling New York City looking for a new start. Little does she know that a creature of the night lurks in the shadows and that there’s something sinister about the woman she’s become enamoured of, the elusive Countess Maximoff.

warnings/tags: dom!wanda, fem sub!reader, smut, oral, cunniIingus, fingering, mas0chism, blood klnk, hints of humiliation and praise klnk, thigh and foot riding, age gap if you squint, wanda calls r pet, 18+ / MINORS DNI

word count: 10,284

moodboard

Clipping your bag safely back onto your belt, you bid the kind dressmaker farewell and motion to leave her Madison Avenue boutique.

Several days ago and after a rather lengthy trip aboard a steamship across the Atlantic, you finally arrived in the hustling and bustling New York City, the city of dreams in the land of opportunity.

Over the years, you have developed quite a respectable reputation as a commissioned portrait artist for the wealthy with an admired talent that both boosts their egos as well as your own wealth. After a lifetime of travelling across the European continent, you decided to migrate to the Americas in search of a new opportunity, or rather a muse to reignite your inspiration and maybe for a little fun on the side too.

The dressmaker quickly assures you that she’ll have your clothes ready by the end of the week, a welcome relief since you’re still waiting for your remaining belongings to arrive by sea.

On your way out of the boutique, you thank her one last time, not paying attention to your surroundings and distractedly bumping into another woman with a fright.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry! Are you quite alright?” the esteemed lady apologises profusely.

You swiftly regain your bearings and brush her off. “It is no problem at all. I apologise as well for not watching where I was going,” you say guiltily.

The instant you both glance up though, she seemingly forgets about the entire ordeal. You recognise immediately the starstruck look on her face that can only mean that she somehow knows who you are, that word of your talents has already travelled across the seas through migrated aristocrats and the like.

“My word! You’re Y/N Y/L/N, aren’t you?” she asks breathlessly.

With a smirk that you try your best to mask as humble, you can’t deny the pride of being so quickly recognised in this new city.

“Indeed I am, a pleasure to make your acquaintance Ms…?”

“Agatha Harkness, dear, but my friends call me Agnes. It’s lovely to meet you,” she introduces with a shake of your extended hand. “Say, I don’t believe I heard word that you were in our fine city. And I assure you, I would have if it were known. No news gets past me. If anything, I’m always the first to know.”

You bet she is, you nod overwhelmed, quietly taking in the words of someone who is clearly a gossip.

There’s an odd and rather manic intensity about her, you notice. You brush it off as the typical artificial friendliness of the elite and especially of the nouveau riche, which you suspect Agnes is.

And yet, it still feels like something is off about her, like she’s not quite herself, a peculiar strain in her smile and an emptiness behind her eyes. How odd.

“I only arrived a few days ago, is why. All my luggage hasn’t even arrived yet.”

“I see… if that’s the case, why I don’t suppose I could commission you then? Be the first American to have their very own Y/L/N painting?” she requests giddily.

Her excitement rubs off on you, no matter how eerie, and you can’t deny her. “Well, I don’t see why not. I’ll have my people be in contact with you to sort out the details soon.”

“My, I can’t believe my luck!” she celebrates. “Oh! You must attend my gala tonight. Please, be my guest of the evening. Let me have the honour of being the one to introduce you to our society here.”

Once again, you’re charmed by her fierce enthusiasm. “Of course, the honour shall be mine.”

Frankly, you don’t really think it’ll be any different from the circles you traversed in Europe, but who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone intriguing.

—

Later that evening, long after the sun has already set, you step out of your personal carriage at Harkness Hall, located in the newer district of the Upper East Side.

Politely being escorted through the manor, you finally arrive at the ballroom and when the grand doors open, all eyes instantly land on you as you are faced with similar expressions of recognition as Agnes’. Said woman speedily and yet somehow elegantly races up the steps, rushing to your side.

Delicately tapping a fork against the side of her champagne glass, she easily silences the commotion in the crowd below. “Might I have your attention, my friends, to introduce you to my esteemed guest of the evening, the wonderfully talented Miss Y/N Y/L/N.”

As soon as she finishes, a rush of wealthy men and women alike gasp and rush to the foot of the stairs. Agnes proudly links her arm around yours, as if you were childhood friends instead of mere acquaintances, and leads you down the stairs into the pit that awaits you. For a second, and only a second, a rush of anxiety ambushes you but you mask it with some well-practiced charm.

For the next while, Agnes personally introduces you to all the socialites interested in portraits of their own, showing off the fact that she is your first client.

You quickly tire of their suffocating attention and it’s only when you peer past the crowd that you notice that one lone woman hasn’t so much as flinched at your presence, instead remaining in the shadows along the walls and gracing you with only a mere glance.

As the night rages on, you curiously observe the intriguing woman from across the ballroom. With a keen eye, you take note of her every detail. Of her deep burgundy gown so dark it almost resembles blood when illuminated in the light, of her thin black birdcage veil that covers her eyes behind the intricate lace, and committing it all to memory.

She moves with a certain refined grace you’ve only seen few nobles possess and despite primarily keeping to herself, exudes an intimidating and rather domineering aura felt throughout the hall. Only a few dare to approach her, some men who don’t know any better and a few attendants who don’t have any other choice. Every so often, she catches your gaze and you almost feel the air leave your lungs.

When the crowd eventually disperses, you pull at the link between your and Agnes’ arms and inquire about your newest interest. “Agnes, might I ask, that woman over there standing alone by the fireplace, who is she?”

“Ahh, why that would be the elusive Countess Maximoff. Our Lady Wanda hails from a distant European kingdom, or so she says. Frankly, she could be anyone from anywhere in the world considering how little we all know about her,” she briefly explains.

Countess Wanda Maximoff, you recite in your mind. A fascinating yet beautiful name for an equally as alluring woman.

“She’s a well-known and respected socialite in this city. In fact, she might even be the richest of all of us, but no one knows for sure, just as no one knows exactly what she is a Countess of,” Agnes continues, unprompted. Internally, you thank her for being so nosy.

“I must apologise, unfortunately that is really all I know about her. She was already residing in New York when I arrived from Salem many months ago,” she admits. “I do know, however, that she has no husband or family of her own. The rumours are that she had a husband once and that he either died or simply disappeared. Either way, she isn’t a typical woman of our society.”

Lost in thought, you take in her words, all serving to only interest you more and more in the stunning yet seemingly solitary woman.

“Miss Y/N,” Agnes calls, breaking you out of your intense trance as you stare at the mysterious woman. “I must tell you, Lady Maximoff is actually currently staying as a guest at Harkness Hall. For a few days now actually, and for the next while when you complete my portrait.”

Oh?

Why doesn’t that make things all the more interesting…

“Y/N, it’s best that you stay away from her. Trust me, there’s something unusual about her that one must not associate themselves with,” Agnes warns you seriously, a stark contrast from the enthusiastic and bubbly person you’ve become familiar with today.

You turn to her and look in her eyes again. For the first time today, you detect a clarity in them, a genuineness that only confuses you more.

“Agnes, may I ask, why did you accept her as a guest if you dislike her so?” you question.

“No one says no to Wanda Maximoff,” Agnes replies ominously. “Every so often, she requests to stay with one of her ‘friends’ for a short while. It turns out that this time I drew the short straw. She always has some sort of excuse, she told me that her estate is undergoing works, but I’m certain she has other properties. All I know is you don’t disobey a woman like her.”

You give some thought to Agnes’ words, to her warnings and the seeping fear that comes through. And yet, the idea of such a strange woman, defiant to the strict norms of high society, who you don’t disobey, only intrigues you more and more.

You regard the woman in red and decide in the moment that no matter what, you’re going to solve the mystery of the elusive Wanda Maximoff, even if it kills you.

Dismissing Agnes’ warnings and brushing off her arm that attempts to pull you back, you waltz across the room and beeline toward Wanda. In the corner of your eye, you spot horrified looks from the other socialites around the room, but ignore them all the same and focus only on the woman in front of you watching you approach her with an amused yet impressed eye.

And you’re glad you do because up close, the Lady Maximoff is absolutely and entirely striking, breathtaking and enchanting and every other word you would use if you were a poet instead of an artist staring at her new muse.

Her milky skin is notably pale and perfectly contrasts against her chocolate brown hair, so soft you almost want to run your hands through the layered strands. Studying her bone structure, you note that it’s incredibly sharp and accentuated by the shadows, making her resemble a sculpture carved from marble come to life. Even under the lace veil, her eyes are enchanting, a clear sage green that complements her dark maroon dress.

For the first second or two, you find yourself rather speechless, the entire English language suddenly disappearing from your vocabulary as you take in her beauty.

In the same second, you notice offhandedly that she too rakes her eyes up and down your form. Feeling a shiver run down your spine under the weight of her gaze, you hope she appreciates the sight as much as you appreciate yours.

“Hello, Y/N Y/L/N, my lady,” you manage to say and extend your hand towards her.

“I know,” she replies with a smirk, seemingly entertained by your courage (or stupidity). “You’ve been quite popular tonight, among the ladies especially. The woman of the evening I hear.”

A part of you is secretly delighted. That means she’s noticed you just as much as you’ve noticed her. The other part is dazedly captivated by the deep lilt in her accent, hinting at whichever secretive European land she originates from, a part of the mystery you seek to soon unravel.

“And whose company do I have the pleasure of being graced with, might I ask?” you tease.

In response, she simply smirks at your charming attempts and finally accepts your hand. “Countess Wanda Maximoff,” she formally introduces, “but I’m sure you already knew that too.”

Delicately, you clasp her gloved hand in yours and place an innocent kiss below the back of her silk-covered knuckles. Proudly, you earn another smile from her at the endearing impropriety of a young girl pressing a gentlemanly kiss on the back of her hand.

“You’re awfully bold, aren’t you?” she remarks with a cock of her head.

“Artists love beautiful things,” you smirk. “It just so happens I’ve found the most beautiful of all.”

She scrunches her nose as she cringes at your flirtatious attempt. You don’t regret your words though when you mean it so sincerely.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Miss Y/L/N?” she asks, skipping the pretenses. “I’m sure you’ve already heard all the things they say about me.”

“I don’t care about them and what they have to say. I’d rather hear it all from you instead,” you profess.

Peering down at her wine glass, she smiles again at your attempts to charm her. This one seems a little more genuine though, a sign that your persistence (and perhaps, foolishness) is slowly piercing through her walls.

She looks back up at you and seemingly ponders your unsaid request as she pensively sips her wine. At last, she says, “Alright then, what would you like to know?”

You grin cheekily at having so easily won her favour. “Well for starters, pray tell me, which land do you come from?”

“Europe,” she answers simply.

You both know that you already knew that, both because Agnes already told you as well as the evident hints of Slavic you identify in her accent.

“Where might one find your county of ownership though, my Countess?” you attempt to press.

“I’m sure you’d like to know,” she teases with another smirk, just as mysterious and secretive as Agnes described.

You’ve spent your entire life travelling through Europe’s High Societies, from the Parisian aristocracy to Florence’s art scene, and yet you’ve never heard of or seen her before this night. And you’d certainly remember if you did, she’s not a face one forgets.

“So, we’re playing this game, are we?”

“You started it, Miss Y/L/N,” she matches your teasing tone.

You’ve noticed that she only calls you by your name formally, keeping a distance between the two of you despite having let you in more than anyone else tonight.

You’re even more aware of all the eyes on you, watching like hawks as your interaction plays out. How odd of a pair you must be, a sight to behold you’re sure. You’re keenly aware of how you’re likely equally as intriguing and alien as she is. How your existence defies the rigid social norms; a girl of your standing able to dance through high society while working to accumulate your own wealth and remaining single at a less than conventional age. You wonder if perchance, in this way, you interest her as much as she interests you.

Clearing your throat, you decide to accept that this is as much as you’ll learn about her tonight. “Agnes tells me you’re staying as a guest at Harkness Hall,” you segue instead.

Tilting her head once again, she lifts an eyebrow in curiosity. “That would be correct.”

“As I’m sure you’ve heard by now, I have been commissioned to paint a portrait for Ms Harkness.” Gently, you once again place a kiss on the back of her resting hand. “I suppose we’ll be seeing more of each other then,” you quietly bid farewell before walking away, not turning back although you know she’s following you with a curious eye.

Later throughout the night, the other cautious elites approach you one by one, all warning you to stay away from Wanda. There’s a certain look in their eyes that you can’t quite decipher yet, resembling that of Agnes’ expression if you really think about it. Something akin to fear or intimidation or something in between and like they’re trying to tell you something they can’t say with words. Their warnings only serve to further interest you in the Countess and the mystery that surrounds her though.

Returning your gaze to the woman before you depart for the evening, you find her already staring fervently at you with a smile you can only describe as devilish. Her pearly white teeth seem to sparkle under the chandelier’s light and you swear that from this side of the ballroom, you spot a glimmer of red in her eyes under the veil.

But, when you remember her beautiful green eyes, you suppose it’s simply a trick of the light.

—

The day after the next, you return to Harkness Hall for your first session with Agnes.

The moment you step foot through the doors, you instantly search for Wanda but are dismayed to fail in your pursuit, not even hearing word of her throughout the entire day. From morning to night, while you’re painting in Agnes’ drawing room or enjoying lunch with her in the garden, you never see Wanda even once.

You suppose it’s a large estate so it’s not hard to believe that your paths wouldn’t cross, but the thought does nothing to dispel the persistent pout on your face.

You honestly try your very hardest to focus on the woman posing in front of you, but the task is near impossible. You almost want to ask Agnes about Wanda, where she is and what she’s doing, but you suppose that would be highly improper. Not that you would typically care, you’d just rather not let it be known how taken you’ve become with her.

It’s only later that evening when you walk through the estate to take your leave, around the eleventh hour after the sun has already set and the hustle and bustle of Harkness Hall has come to a standstill, that your eyes once again find the Countess’ solitary form.

Bathed in the moonlight, the Lady sits by herself in the courtyard facing away from you. You’re once again struck by her beauty. In this pure light and under the night sky, her ivory skin almost glows. You briefly ponder the idea that she could be an angel descended from the heavens above.

Seemingly sensing your presence, despite how stealthily you’d hidden yourself behind the doorway, she spins around faster than you can blink and catches you.

“Miss Y/L/N,” she remarks with a drawl and that sinisterness that makes you think that more accurately, she must be a fallen angel sent to this world by the devil himself.

Matching your intense gaze, she simply says, “Come,” beckoning you to her side.

And you obey without a single objection, padding across the courtyard and placing yourself in the seat beside her obediently.

“I heard you were here painting Agnes today,” she brings up cordially.

Your eyes drop down and you notice her drinking something in her glass that oddly looks a little too dark and thick to be wine, that leaves a deep cherry stain on her lips that would otherwise be an unusual lipstick shade. You equally notice that despite her attempts at pleasant small talk, she doesn’t make any attempts to offer you a glass of whatever it is she’s drinking.

“I was,” you affirm. “I was….” hoping to see you, you trail off and keep to yourself, not wanting to seem desperate in her eyes despite how desperate for her attention you truly are.

She smiles to herself, seemingly hearing your confession all the same. She has a way of reading you without you saying a word.

“And how are you finding it so far?”

“It’s going as well as it can. Agnes is a wonderful subject,” you share, hiding the fact that the only woman you wanted to paint today was her.

A beat of silence passes, only the soft breeze of winter heard in the space you share.

“Have you ever sat for a portrait before?” you ask.

Shaking her head thoughtfully, she answers “No, never.”

“Why, might I ask? Your beauty is one I’m sure hundreds would flock to capture on canvas and stone.”

Inwardly, she smirks at your unrelenting boldness. “Yes… be that as it may, it’s not one I’m happy to share with the world for all to see,” she answers just as cryptically as everything else she’s told you thus far.

You suspect there’s a deeper and very real reason to it, but don’t question further. You’re happy to take as much as she gives you, as little as it is.

“Would you let me paint you one day?” you ask honestly.

Wistfully, she turns to glance up at the scattered stars in the clear sky, musing on your offer. “Perhaps,” she finally turns to look at you again, “if you’re a good girl.”

A fierce blush rushes to your cheeks as she gets up and caresses your chin with her gloved hand before leaning down and placing a fleeting kiss on the very cheek reddened by her teasing. As she saunters away from you, you watch her go and dazedly wonder if whatever she was drinking left its own stain on your skin.

Only when she walks past a statement mirror in the hallway are you pulled out of your trance. You can’t see her reflection, you remark.

Confused, you give it little thought before reasoning that it must be your tired eyes playing a trick on you.

—

Over the coming days, you return to Harkness Hall for your work with Agnes and continue seeking Wanda’s company.

Every time though, you only ever locate her after the sun’s gone down or alone in some secluded space like the library or tea room with the windows shut.

This time, you lose the fight and ask Agnes about her peculiar behaviour. She tells you that the Countess typically goes out at night and only returns in the early hours of the morning. Otherwise, during the day she either slumbers until the early afternoon or rests indoors.

Agnes doesn’t quite understand it either, but she’s neither questioning it nor complaining when it makes it a little easier for her to avoid the Lady. You thank her for her explanation (gossip), but it only piques your curiosity more and more, as does everything else you learn about Wanda.

Every time you do cross her path though, she always invites you to sit with her. Most of the time, she nurses a glass of the too-dark-and-too-thick wine. You never ask for a glass of your own or a taste and she never offers.

And every time, you find yourself entranced by her beauty for at least a minute or two or typically, much more. At times, you think she must be from another world, one so delicate and divine that man cannot and must not touch it lest it be corrupted. Other times you think her beauty is simply not human and must be a form of corruption of its own. But maybe that’s just the dramatic artist in you.

You’re saddened to say that after all this time though, you still don’t know much more about her, the mystery still largely unsolved. You know that she’s rich, she’s alone, and she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid your eyes on, which is essentially everything you already knew from the first night you met her.

She does occasionally share some stories with you though, of her life when she was younger in the foreign Slavic land you still haven’t identified. She tells you of growing up in a castle at the top of a mountain, of being bathed in the riches of love. “I’ve lost all the family I’ve ever known,” she confesses the next evening after you share stories of your own rough upbringing.

As always, she remains cryptically vague with every word she offers you, never giving you details and always leaving you wanting more.

Sometimes, she even reveals glimpses of her other facets like her interests and apparent appreciation for the theatre. “There’s a new musical on Broadway that I believe you’d enjoy,” she remarks offhandedly. Despite your attempts to suppress it, you feel a fluttering sensation within you at the prospect of seeing the Countess outside the walls of Harkness Hall, of even courting her if she allowed.

You’d like to think that you’re the only one honoured to hear these words from her, that you’re someone special to her as she is to you.

Other times when you come upon wherever she’s hiding and she doesn’t instantly detect you, you watch her quietly from the shadows, hiding away and observing her peaceful form. You fetch your pocket pad from the bag on your waist and roughly sketch her reading, birdwatching, embroidering or simply gazing at the night sky.

Then, you return home and paint her as accurately from memory as you can, attempting to capture her beauty with oil paints and canvas.

One day, you hope you’ll have a chance to show her how she’s become your muse and how you see her unlike anyone else.

—

Almost a week has passed since you started painting Agnes and you only know because you’ve been committing every encounter with the Lady Maximoff to memory.

Over the days, you’ve become comfortable and developed a routine of sorts for yourself. Around mid-morning, you arrive at Agnes’ manor and recommence work right away. Once noon comes, you have lunch with her in her expansive garden and enjoy tea with Wanda in the mid-afternoon if you can locate her, otherwise you greet her on your departure in the evening.

For the short while, you develop a new normal, which makes it all the weirder when a sense of unease overcomes the city and its inhabitants. From your own maids and coachmen to Agnes and the other elites you come across, everyone all of a sudden seems on edge. Almost like a blanket of doom and gloom has been laid over the city.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it’s only Wanda who seems normal and unperturbed when you find her in her usual lounge chair in the courtyard under the moonlit sky. Once again, you obediently take the seat beside her.

Tonight, you can’t help but notice that she’s not nursing her favoured drink and if it were possible, she appears more pale than ever. You want to ask if she is well, but instead of overstepping, you decide to ask why everyone seems so off.

Pensively, she oddly smiles at your question and peer up at the sky. You follow her line of sight and see that the moon tonight is full and bright.

“Be careful, Miss Y/L/N,” is all she says as you turn to her again. There’s an unsettling look in her eye, like she knows something you don’t.

“You never know what’s hiding in the shadows, what creatures of the night lurk in the dark,” she warns ominously before turning to you and flashing a blinding smile. “One wouldn’t want something to happen to a pretty young thing like you.”

You gulp at her forbidding words and sudden predatory appearance, left only more confused and unnerved than ever. Flustered, you avert your gaze and miss the flash of crimson in her eyes.

—

The following evening, you’re half asleep in your carriage home when you abruptly realise you forgot a broken easel that you wanted to have fixed at Harkness Hall. Having requested your coachman retrieve it for you, you now patiently wait in your carriage in front of the estate.

Leaning your cheek on the window with a pout, you’re a little saddened since you didn’t see Wanda at all today, the first time it’s happened all week.

When you asked one of Agnes’ maids where the Lady was, she said she hadn’t seen Wanda all day either which meant she must’ve still been asleep since she didn’t hear her return until just before dawn. But then even on your way out a few moments ago, you still couldn’t find her in any of her usual hiding spots to your dismay.

Staring out solemnly at the Upper East Side streets, you notice that it’s a lot quieter than usual. This district is typically much busier, even at this late hour with the wealthy enjoying their night on the town.

However, it seems everyone is as on edge as they were the previous day. Most people have opted to stay inside with the windows shut, leaving the streets mostly empty barring a few passersby and dimly lit lamp posts. Even your coachman seemed a little less willing than usual to fulfil your request, as if he just wanted to rush the both of you home to safety. From what, you’re not too sure.

Sleepily, you lift your gaze and stare at the moon, slightly fuller and even brighter than it was the night before, having just reached the peak of its cycle.

You admire its alluring beauty for a brief second until something in the alley across the road from your carriage catches your eye; a lone man and woman hidden in the shadows. You think they must be one of the only people who don’t fear what everyone else does to be lingering in the darkness like this.

Intrigued, you study the pair when something strikes you. The woman throws her head back laughing and you catch a glimpse of her canines, so pearly and sharp you’re almost sure they look like fangs.

It’s only when you narrow your eyes and the woman leans forward out of the shadows into the light that you realise with a start, it’s Wanda.

—

When the sun rises and morning comes, you wake up safe in your bed but just as shaken.

With the calming of your heart, you reason that the events of the night before must have been a dream or even a hallucination of your tired mind. But you’ve been making the same excuse a lot lately and the image is etched so realistically in your memory it must be real.

In a daze, you ready yourself for the day and go to the dining room for the breakfast awaiting you. Perhaps some food in your stomach will wake you up from whatever this is, you think.

You’re distractedly munching on some berries when your handmaiden enters the room with a boiled kettle for your morning tea. It seems that the water isn’t the only thing bubbling this morning though.

“Miss! Have you heard the news?” she asks worriedly.

“I can’t say I have,” you answer, shaking your head. “What appears to have happened?”

“My, there’s been a murder! In an alley near Harkness Hall!”

Your blood instantly runs cold and you freeze like a bucket of cold water has been thrown on you.

“W-what?”

“A young man in his early 20s, foolish enough to stay out late on a full moon. They say his body was otherwise unmarked except for two puncture wounds in his neck. The sheriffs think it’s the Moonlit Killer again!” she frantically explains, every word striking your shaky bones.

“The Moonlit Killer?” you whisper to yourself in thought. “Who is that?”

“The city, no the state’s, very own serial killer, miss! No one knows who it is and they haven’t been caught yet, but for over a year now there have been murders across New York every full moon,” she tells you, the kettle completely forgotten as well as your breakfast which you know for certain you can no longer stomach with the tightening of your throat.

“The victims always match each other too, always young men taken in dark alleys and left with only two punctures in their necks.”

Like fangs…, you piece together.

It all makes sense now, why everyone was so on edge with the arrival of the full moon.

Quietly, you think back to what you witnessed last night. You’re sure it was Wanda. You would recognise her anywhere, in a crowded ballroom or even a… dark alleyway.

An image forms in your mind and you quickly race to your studio, ignoring the concerned calls of your handmaiden. You pull out a fresh canvas and your brushes and you paint and paint and paint.

You paint Wanda’s unusually pale ivory skin. You paint her red irises that you’ve seen on occasion. And lastly, you paint the sharp fangs you saw last night that lie where any other person’s canines would.

Once you’ve finished, you step back to take in your rough portrait and drop your brush in shock.

It can’t be…

You’ve only heard tales of them during your travels when instances similar to last night’s rocked the cities you visited. You’ve only seen frightening drawings of them in books that told farfetched legends of the undead.

Creatures of the night, skin as pale as the moon, pearly white fangs as sharp as blades, and most of all, eyes the colour of scarlet.

Everything suddenly makes sense now, pieces fall into place as the mystery is finally solved.

The glasses she’s always drinking of some liquid that looks too dark and thick to be wine must have been blood all this time and her main source of sustenance since you’ve never seen her eat a single crumb.

The way she oddly sleeps during the day and always shies away from sunlight, because if she didn’t she would quite literally be burned.

How you’re sure you’ve never seen her reflection in mirrors or water or windows because she doesn’t in fact have a soul to reflect.

Why no matter how much you asked around or researched about the elusive Countess, you could never obtain any information dating back earlier than over a year ago, precisely when the Moonlit Killer started taking their victims.

And how you’re certain that if you matched the homes of the other aristocrats she stayed with to the locations of the killings, it would all line up perfectly.

Countess Maximoff is… a vampire.

With the realisation, you’re filled with frightening clarity, both proudly smug at having unearthed her secret and slightly fearful at the true nature of the woman you’ve become enamoured of. Foolishly, you thought it was your eyes playing tricks or simple coincidences, but it’s too much to be.

For a second, you even think you must be going crazy to be entertaining this thought. Wanda… the beautiful, alluring, and bewitching woman… is a vampire. A monster? How could someone so enchanting be so horrific, though? So cruel…

But then you remember the old wives’ tales about sirens and succubi and creatures of sin that seduce and corrupt with their otherworldly beauty and frankly, now you’re only more sure of your discovery.

And that’s when it hits you… there’s only one way to test your theory.

—

That evening, you put your plan into motion. You haven’t much time. You figure in a few days she’ll announce her departure from Harkness Hall and return to her estate until she has to hunt for the next full moon, so why wait to confirm something you’re already so sure of.

In the dead of night, you pad through her designated wing and sneak into her bedchambers, awaiting her eventual return in the early morning. Earlier, you sent your carriage home with a feigned excuse and listened carefully to confirm that Agnes had retired for the evening.

Making yourself comfortable on Wanda’s loveseat, you patiently survey the door and await her arrival, alone in the dark room lit only by a few ruby candles and the bright moonlight.

In the Winter night, you feel the cool breeze on your exposed skin and shiver, pulling your coat tighter around you. Beneath it, you wear nothing but a lace blood red nightgown that leaves your neck bare in hopes of enticing her.

As expected, she’s absent for most of the evening, you assume too preoccupied with hunting her prey. Tonight, the moon is at the absolute peak of its cycle. Her lust for blood must be uncontrollable, but the thought only excites you more.

You almost fall asleep against your hand propped up on the armrest when finally, sometime between the second and third hour, you hear a shuffle outside the door that instantly wakes you.

Creaking, the door opens to reveal the Countess you’ve been waiting for, clad in a black hooded cloak and dark burgundy dress. Dark enough to conceal any bloodstains, you realise.

You suspect the city will awake to news of another victim at the hand of the Moonlit Killer, but that’s for whatever awaits you after the sun rises. Right now, you have your mystery standing in front of you, surprised to say the least to see you in her bedchambers and especially at this hour.

In the dimly lit room, you can barely see her if it weren’t for her skin that seemingly glows under the moonlight and the fleeting glint of red in her eyes that show themselves when she lifts off her hood and removes her cloak.

She’s as beautiful to you now as she was before you knew what kind of creature she really is. The thought leaves you as breathless as the sight of her. You think you would have fallen for her no matter who, or rather what, she is.

Fully facing your standing figure now, she smirks, knowing that there is something different about you tonight and this encounter. A sense of pride fills you at her sinister expression.

“Miss Y/L/N, what a surprise to find you here. Have you gotten lost in the middle of the night, sweet thing? Sleepwalked from the other side of the city, perchance?” she asks playfully. There’s a hint of something new in her tone, something a little demeaning. You can’t say you hate it. No… not at all.

“No, my lady. There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

She simply lifts an eyebrow in response, signalling you to continue while she hangs up her cloak and only offers you part of her attention. You almost want to beg to have all of it.

“I’ve been watching you,” you admit.

“I know you have. And what have you so skillfully unearthed, Miss Y/L/N?”

With a nervous gulp, you confess, “I know your secret, what you hide from the others.” Her ears seem to perk up with interest at your admission, but she’s still unsettlingly calm about the revelation.

“I know why you sleep during the day and what you do during the night. I know why you avoid sunlight at all costs and why no one seems to know anything about you. I know what you are.”

At last, she turns to you and gives you her full and complete attention. As much as you previously desired it, you quickly find yourself wilting under the weight of her stare.

Crossing the room in three strides, she stands face-to-face before you. “Oh? And pray tell, what exactly am I?” she teases and finally unveils the true scarlet hue of her eyes with a tilt of her head, equally as stunning as the green if not more bewitching.

It leaves you in a state of vulnerable immobility like prey trapped in the clutch of its predator and you pull at the sleeves of your coat in an attempt to regain your courage. Distantly, you wonder if perhaps there’s more to her species that the myths don’t yet know about, that perhaps she wields sinister abilities to influence the mind which would explain the eerie nature of Agnes’ facade.

“You’re… you’re a…”

Intimidatingly, she stalks to you in a few weightless steps almost like a bat. Delicately pulling her satin gloves off and haphazardly tossing them to the wooden floor, she reveals her long sharp nails, claws really.

Getting closer in your space now, she takes your chin between her thumb and index finger and tilts your head up to face her, the chilled skin of a soulless body sends shivers through your bones.

Menacingly, she grins, no leers, at you and detracts her fangs, glistening in the moonlight and bared for you to see. Up close, it strikes you with an immediate fear, but also something equally as exciting that leaves a tightening sensation deep in your belly.

“Say it,” she whispers, her cool breath against your lips and sending a chill down your spine.

With a gulp, you finally bring yourself to say out loud, “You’re a vampire.”

If it were somehow possible, her grin grows even wider and more sinister and you briefly think that she might just eat you alive.

“Good girl, I knew you were a smart one the second I laid my eyes on you.” The term of praise, as proud as you are to have received it, only intensifies that feeling in your belly and for the first time this evening, you question if you’re actually capable of surviving a night with the vampire Countess.

Patting your cheek with her other hand and cocking her head amusedly, Wanda continues. “Although, you were foolish enough to have come here alone and approached me like this.”

Maybe she’s right…

“No one would know if I killed you right here and now. No one would even hear you scream before I sank my teeth in your neck.”

Or maybe, that’s exactly what you want from her.

In a heartbeat, you instantly regain all your confidence. You know her secret and you came here for a reason. It’s time to claim what you’re owed, what you came to this city searching for.

Hastily, you untie your coat and drop it to the floor, revealing your barely clothed body to her stunned eyes. A rush of excitement goes through your veins at the sight of her dilated pupils, a telling sign that she just might desire you as much as you desire her.

Placing your own hands atop the ones she still rests on your face, you confess, “I want to be yours.” She lifts her eyebrow in curiosity at your proposition. “You don’t need to feed on other people, or hunt when you’re desperate anymore… You can just feed on me.”

For the first time ever, you hear her laugh, throwing her head back with her imposing fangs on full display. A deep and maniacal sound that’s degrading and humiliating as you stand there before her exposed and yet, you decide you’d do anything to hear it again.

It takes a second or two for her to regain her composure and you think you spot tears in her eyes, only further reddening your blushing cheeks.

“You know,” she says in between huffed laughter. “I typically only drink animal blood, as I’m sure you’ve seen on occasion. It’s a lot more… convenient and certainly a lot less messy. But the real reason,” she confesses, whispering almost secretively as her ruby coloured irises stare into your blown out pupils, “is that blood from a human source is dangerously addictive. That’s why I only feed on humans on days like this when the moon’s pull is too strong. Because everyone I drink from ends up dead and somehow, I just know that if I drank yours… well I’d be addicted for eternity.”

But what if that’s exactly what you want?

Blindly reaching towards a nearby table, you grab what feels like a glass and smash it against the surface, successfully slicing your left palm and sending drops of blood rolling down your skin.

In the same heartbeat, Wanda instantly freezes, her enhanced sense of smell immediately picking up the intoxicating scent of your blood. Tightly closing her eyes and letting go of her hold on you, she takes two steps back from you, seemingly struggling to restrain herself.

Fearlessly, you take two steps towards her, crowding her space just as she crowded yours.

“Let go,” you tempt, lifting your bleeding hand in an attempt to flood her senses and lure her further into your trap. “Let me be yours,” you whisper teasingly into her ear.

In a second, her eyes burst open, now blazing scarlet and burning into you. Roughly, she wraps her hand around your throat and pushes you against the nearest wall, uncaring of how you wince at the strength with which she slams you.

Just as harshly, she finally kisses you, her icy lips meeting yours and moving against each other as one as she almost devours you in her eagerness. And just as eagerly, you let her, drowning in the rush of losing yourself in something so wrong that feels so right.

The cautiousness with which she treated you before has completely disappeared as she dangerously tightens her grip around your throat, claiming your lips over and over again.

In her lust-clouded haste, her sharp fangs faintly slice your bottom lip and you quickly start bleeding with a wince that’s promptly muffled by her soft lips. Her greedy tongue licks it all up and you’re blessed with her deep moans at the rich and teasing taste.

To your dismay, she pulls away and releases her grip on your throat. But when you look in her bloodshot eyes, pupils blown and glittering in the moonlight, you’re thrilled to see a complete lack of resistance, a surrender to the offer you’ve presented.

And yet, there’s a hidden question in them, if you’re really willing to cross this line with her. In the back of your mind, you wonder that perhaps you're the first person who’s ever shared this secret of hers, who's ever willingly given themselves to her.

You hope to be the only.

Without saying a word, you simply crane your awaiting neck towards her, offering the expanse of it to her on a golden platter.

“I’m yours,” you whisper into the night for only her to hear.

In the blink of an eye, she becomes a predator before you. Still trapped between her body and the wall, you watch in equal amounts of fear and lust as she bares her fangs and sinks them into your naked neck.

You scream in pain and tightly scrunch a hand in her hair until, almost like you're hearing yourself outside of your body, you realise that your screams have become moans, the pain in your neck abruptly replaced by pleasure racing through your bloodstream.

“Mine,” you hear her snarl in between your moans and you only barely manage to yell, “Yours”, back.

Wanda is equally disarmed as she buries her face in your neck. She drinks and drinks and drinks, and as predicted, loses herself in you. It’s a criminal understatement to say that your blood is the best she’s ever tasted in her centuries-long life and endless list of victims. It’s rich and thick and if you hadn’t already offered to become her pet for eternity, she would have stolen you away anyway.

She revels even more in the sounds of your very evident pleasure, which when mixed with her instant addiction to your taste leaves a tight sensation in her core.

As she continues feasting on you, she slots a knee between your open legs and tightly grips your waist in her hands, harshly thrusting you down on her leg and surely leaving bruises in her wake. Eagerly, you grind against her firm thigh, head lolling back and hitting the wall with a resounding thud.

Somehow, your unabashed moans get even louder as you feel your blood starting to drip across your chest. Distantly, you consider that maybe you should quieten yourself lest someone hear of your tryst, but that thought swiftly disappears when Wanda presses her knee against your core while pushing you down to grind against it and deepening her fangs in your neck.

She’s everywhere. Pressed against you, piercing you with her teeth, becoming one with you. Suddenly, the overwhelming sensations become too much and you come undone in her arms, climaxing unexpectedly from the equally consuming mix of pleasure and pain.

In a lust- and blood-drunk daze, Wanda takes little notice of your state and attempts to keep drinking every ounce of the red liquid left in your body. She feels you start to loosen your hold on her hair and slacken against her thigh though, so she reluctantly stops lest she loses her pet as quickly as she got her.

Regrettably, she pulls away from you but you’re glad she keeps her knee between your legs because you immediately slump against her from an exhaustive combination of the severe blood loss and intense climax.

Surprisingly tenderly, she captures you in her arms and holds you up against her and the wall. You take a second to regain your breath as your heart races to pump more blood through your veins.

“That was…” you trail off, dazed and half struggling to hold on to consciousness.

“Delicious,” she finishes for you.

You eventually manage to open your eyes and watch her sadly remove a hand from your waist to wipe your blood from her mouth with the pad of her thumb, serving to only spread it across her face even more.

The sight is more arousing than it should be and as you stare at her, you discover that with her porcelain moonlit skin, scarlet coloured eyes, snow white fangs, and mouth covered in your dark blood, she’s the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen.

In the haze of the afterglow, your gaze lowers to her bloody lips and you briefly wonder how you taste. Somehow reading your thoughts as she always does, she places a surprisingly soft kiss on your lips and you’re equally surprised by the taste of your blood on her lips. It’s different from what you expected, not as jarringly metallic as when you bite the inside of your cheek but rather smooth and rich like a well-aged wine.

As you deepen the kiss searching for more, she returns the eagerness by tracing the surface of your lips with her tongue, easily parting them and entering your mouth. Distracting you with the feel of your tongues swirling against each other, she sneakily reaches behind your back and unties the fragile bow tying your nightgown together.

Pulling away, she lets the sheer fabric fall in a heap to the floor and leaves you chasing her lips like a lovesick fool. You feel even more foolish when you look up and find her staring intensely at your entirely exposed body while she remains fully clothed, almost moving to wrap your arms around your bare chest in an attempt to hide yourself from her scrutiny.

Just as quickly though, she captures your wrists and traps them beside you against the wall. “Don’t hide from me. You’re mine now, pet,” she whispers in her criminally deep voice.

Not to mention her apparent assignment of a new title for you, a stark contrast from the formal way with which she has been regarding you until now. A fierce blush rises to your cheeks at her choice and when combined with the sound of her voice, you think you could come from the short sentence alone.

Softly and slowly with all the time in the world, or at least the few hours left before the sun awakes, she places delicate kisses across your shaking body. Her icy cold touch cools every inch of your burning skin that it contacts, along the curve of your jawline up to the space below your ear, down your neck and especially taking care to lick your puncture wounds clean before travelling across your chest and licking up any blood that previously escaped her.

Taking your left nipple in her awaiting mouth, she latches on and sucks greedily before switching to the right. You squirm and try to free your hands wanting to touch her, but her bruising grip around your wrists unrelenting keeps you trapped. If she notices you continue to painfully twist yourself in her grasp anyway in an attempt to amass more marks as proof of her ownership of you, she doesn’t utter a single word.

A second later, she withdraws from your body and sighs against your wet skin, which when coupled with her chilled touch and the cool winter night leaves you shuddering with goosebumps.

Stepping back from you entirely now, she reaches behind herself and undoes her own dress. When it falls to the floor, so does your jaw as you shamelessly stare at the pale expanse of her skin, almost completely unblemished and illuminated by the moonlight.

You carefully place your hands on the curves of her waist, hidden beneath her burgundy corset. For a brief moment, she lets you admire her body like an artist admires their muse before she gets impatient and turns around in your arms.

Pulling her hair to her front, she demands, “Won’t you lend me a hand, pet?”

Wordlessly and obediently, you unlace her corset while leaving delicate kisses behind her ear and along her neck. She buries her hand in your hair and you almost let out a moan from the way she tugs at it. Under your breath, you curse the corset for being so intricate as your shaking hands struggle against the detailed binds.

Luckily for you though, it finally becomes undone and drops to the floor with the rest of your clothes. With your hands returning to her waist again, now soft and bare, you turn her around to face you and almost collapse.

You’re not sure how it’s possible, but she continues to take your breath away. She’s more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in your lifelong travels. More than any of the marble Grecian sculptures or oil paintings of Aphrodite.

Just as she did, you take your time peppering kisses over her ivory and cool skin. You gently kiss every inch from right under her jawline to the dips of her collarbones and down along her chest to the mole of her left breast, from the curve of her shoulder down to the edge of her fingers and even lightly sucking your blood off her thumb.

Delicately, you devote yourself to kissing her perfect skin marked only by a few moles littered across her body, mapping them like constellations, and licking away any of your blood that stains the porcelain surface of her chin and neck.

Here and there, when you get to a particularly sensitive spot like the space under her jawline, she writhes in your arms and lets out a breathless gasp. You continue sucking on the same spot lightly, proudly drawing pleasure out of her as she did with you, but only lightly and not harsh enough to mark her flawless skin.

Internally, you think you could spend an eternity worshipping her body if she let you. You wouldn’t mind all the pain if you had the pleasure of being hers.

As you take your time exploring her body, her thin patience finally runs out and she roughly wraps your hair around her hand, pushing you down to exactly where she needs you.

“On your knees, pet,” she demands breathlessly and you instantly obey, falling to your knees with a thud and ignoring the bruising pain, proudly collecting more evidence of your tryst.

Diligently, you continue trailing your kisses down between the centre of her chest and her taut stomach until you reach her core, which you brazenly pass in favour of nibbling her inner thigh.

Roughly yanking your hair though, Wanda makes her annoyance known. “Oh, don’t be like that now, sweetheart. I thought it was clear who’s in charge here,” she bends down and sneers in your face.

“‘Mm sorry…” you frantically nod and apologise while keeping the enticing idea of disobeying and testing her patience in the back of your mind for another time. Right now, though, you desperately want to taste her.

Lifting her leg over your shoulder, she increases your accessibility or rather traps you and pushes your head back towards her centre.

“Be a good pet now won’t you, darling?”

You don’t need to be told twice, swiftly diving in between her thighs. You’re pleasantly delighted to feel how wet for you she already is, probably since the moment she sank her teeth in your neck.

Burying yourself against her core, you greedily part her folds with your tongue and lap up all her juices. Immediately drunk on her taste, you moan against her and the resounding vibrations apparently stimulate her even more as she whimpers above you and tightens her grip on your hair.

As you eagerly stroke your tongue against her pussy and brush your nose against her clit, you decide that between her legs must be the best place on Earth. And if anything, you so quickly become addicted to her sweet essence just as she was with your rich blood.

Almost crazed, you both want her everywhere and to be all over her, meticulously switching between placing kitty licks between her folds and latching onto her bulb.

Losing herself in you, Wanda somehow pushes the back of your head even deeper against her and bucks against your face. “Good girl… just like that,” she murmurs.

If your mouth wasn’t so preoccupied, you would’ve begged her to pull your hair harder.

Glancing up as you devour her, you realise that she truly is a fallen angel sent from the depths of hell to corrupt you. As you stare at her lust hazed eyes and domineering form stalked over you, you find yourself getting pleasure just from her pleasure alone.

You think that whether she suffocated you between her thighs or sucked out all your blood with her fangs in your neck, you’d be honoured to die by her hand.

With her moans getting louder and her body writhing above you, you catch on to her rapidly increasing need for more and raise your right hand to rub her clit with the pads of two fingers.

Catching her off guard, you swiftly thrust the same two fingers between her folds and earn a blissed out scream. You fit perfectly inside her as she clenches around you, sending a tightening sensation to your own core.

Latching onto her clit with your mouth again while your fingers slide in and out of her, you proudly smile against her at the tightening grip on your hair.

“Faster,” she manages to demand and you once again obey, pistoning your fingers in and out of her even faster and setting a ruthless rhythm. Soon after, your fingertips locate her g-spot so you curl the ends of your two fingers, hitting the spot with every thrust.

As you watch her, you notice that her hands are preoccupied with gripping the back of your head in pleasure and her bedpost in an attempt to stay standing.

With so much of her immaculate body shamefully left unattended, you reach your sliced hand back up her still cool body and cup her breast. As you massage the supple mound, the pain of the fresh cut stings your skin but you hear yourself whimper in time with her own moans.

You’re everywhere and the stimulation of your touch starts to make Wanda go crazy. Releasing her hold on your hair, she glides it down your back and scratches the skin below your shoulders with her claws in an attempt to pull you even closer.

Shuddering against her, you wince at the pain but proudly add the scratches to your long list of scars from tonight.

With her hand on your back, she feels you pathetically grind down against nothing and decides to take pity on you, placing her foot below your core. Finally getting some much needed friction, you rub yourself against her in a frenzy and practically ride her foot.

In a daze, she peers down at you and is entranced by the sight of you on your knees for her, looking up obediently at her with doe-like eyes, your face covered in her juices and skin covered in bite marks and hickeys she placed haphazardly, all while servicing her every demand and devoting yourself to her every need.

Unable to hold herself back anymore, she climaxes. Feeling her clench around your fingers and hearing her scream, you quickly follow and come against her foot. Bewitched, you see her arch her back in satisfaction and let her ride out her high against your face.

Once she calms down, you greedily lick up all her cum and clean up her centre just as you did with your blood on her skin. When your mission is complete and she pushes you away, overstimulated by your persistent touch, you stare into her eyes as you slide the same two fingers that were just inside her mere second ago into your own mouth, sucking them clean and taking care to not leave even a single drop.

If it were possible, her already blown out pupils dilate even more as she watches the show you put on for her. Pulling you up with a strength that’s probably owed to her inhumane cells, she tugs you into a kiss once again, tasting her essence on your tongue just as you did with your blood on hers.

Fitting your waist in her hands again, she hastily throws you on her bed before straddling your hips and pressing you against the mattress. She wastes no time and leans down to reclaim your lips, carelessly letting her fangs nick your lips again.

In the corner of your sleepy eyes, you see the glowing moonlight illuminate the stars in the night sky outside, the sun still a lifetime away. For this next little while, all that matters is the cool feel of her touch against your scorched skin and the pleasure of the pain she brings.

For under the full moon, you are completely and irrevocably hers; a vampire’s pet for better or worse.

#for my vampire!wanda truthers #my first reader fic my first wanda fic my first smut fic my precious baby #feedback is much appreciated esp on the smut T-T #if you guys enjoy this i have a pt 2 in mind that gets real freaky….#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff imagine #fem reader #vampire wanda #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #scarlet witch

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sijssjsbssjsnsnnskbskwns · 1 year ago

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Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Reader Idea’s For You!

~Zach Orfman And Beth Slocum~

~Y/n L/n~

ZACH ORFMAN X BETH SLOCUM X READER

Plots For These Idea’s: Could Follow The Life After Beth Movie…Or You Could Make Up Your Own Summary/Headcanaon/Imagine/Story For This Ideas…If You Wanna Use These Ideas on Wattpad As Well You Can! Or Just Here On Tumblr, Your Choice!

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Scarlet Witch!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Raven!Reader (Rachel Roth Raven Not The Cartoon Raven)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Vampire!Reader (Inspired by Abigail 2024)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Zombie!Reader (Instead Of Beth Turning Into A Zombie It Was You)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Amethyst Witch!Reader (Scarlet Wtch Powers But Purple Not Red)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Sapphire Witch!Reader (Scarlet Witch Powers But Blue Not Red)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Emarald Witch!Reader (Scarlet Witch Powers But Emerald Green Not Red)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Golden Witch!Reader (Scarlet Witch Powers But Golden Not Red)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Darkness Witch!Reader (Scarlet Witch Powers But Black Not Red

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Rose Witch!Reader (Scarlet Witch Powers But Dark Pink Not Red)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Amber Witch!Reader (Scarlet Witch Powers But Orange)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Egyptian Goddess!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Agatha Harkness!Reader (Agatha Harkness From Wanda Vision)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Veronica Mayday!Reader (Veronica Mayday From Helluva Boss)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Female!Alastor!Reader (Alastor From Hazbin Hotel But Female Version)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Daki!Reader (Daki From Demon Slayer)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Nezuko!Reader (Nezuko From Demon Slayer)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Maleficent!Reader (Maleficent From ‘Maleficent’ And ‘Maleficent: Mistress Of Evil’)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Captain Marvel!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Wednesday!Reader (Jenna Ortega Wednesday)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Cruella!Reader (Cruella From Cruella 2021)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Half-Vampire!Half-Siren!Tall!Goddess!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Tall!Fey!Goddess!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Half-Angel!Half-Demon!Tall!Goddess!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Half-Vampire!Half-Pheonix!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Famous!Actress!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Blind!Reader (Not A Normal Blind A Toph Beifong kind Of Blind)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Mute!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Tourette’s!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Pyrokinesis!Reader (Fire Manipulation)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Lindsey Stirling!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Hydrokinesis!Reader (Water Manipulation)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Feral!Vampire!Reader (Inspired By Abigail 2024)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Dimitrescu!Reader (Your Lady Dimitrescu Basically)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Billie Eilish!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Nancy Downs!Reader (Nancy Downs From The Craft)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Feral!Zombie!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Electrokinesis!Reader (electricity manipulation)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Chorokinesis!Reader (Plant Manipulation)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Abigail Lazar!Reader (Abigail Lazar From Abigail 2024)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Pre-Teen!Zombie!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Pre-Teen!Vampire!Reader (Inspired By Abigail 2024)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Goth!Depressed!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Punk!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Ghostface!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Dark!Yandere!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Yandere!Zombie!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Yandere!Vampire!Reader (Inspired By Abigail 2024)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Siren!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Sadistic!Zombie!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Jennifer Check!Reader (Jennifer Check Fron Jennifer’s Body)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Demon!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Sadistic!Vampire!Reader (Inspired By Abigail 2024)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Succubus!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Male!Zombie!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Werewolf!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Mermaid!Reader

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Male!Vampire!Reader (Inspired By Abigail 2024)

• Zach Orfman X Beth Slocum X Angel!Goddess!Reader

(A/N: Hello! Hope This Inspires You! Remember Your More Than Welcome To Use These Ideas! I Made Y/n Profiles So You Know What You Could Be Like Or Look Like…If You Wanna See More Of My Posts You Can It’s Also Recommended You Do!…Anyways YOUR WELCOME! :)

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itzsephig5 · 4 months ago

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A New Sibling - Mom!Wanda Maximoff x fem!teen!reader

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

My Masterlist

Summary: Y/n lives with her mother, Wanda Maximoff and her stepfather Vision in the hex. Y/n finds out her mother is expecting but also finds out things aren't adding up

Fluff prompt 33: You're getting a little brother/sister

A/N: One of my friends who doesn't have Tumblr helped me with my prompt lists, so she asked me to write her a one-shot with this prompt, so here we go. You can request one-shot ideas from my prompt lists that are linked on my masterlist

Y/n's POV:

I walked into the house after getting off from high school. I looked around and saw that the house looked slightly different, but I wasn't going to question it. "Mom, dad! I'm home!" I called out to my mother and stepfather. I didn't hear anything right away, so I headed to the kitchen. When I walked in, I saw my mom standing there, looking heavily pregnant. I was pretty sure she didn't look like that earlier. "Woah, you got a big belly mom." I tell her. She nods her head at me. "Well, me and Vision are expecting, which means that you will be getting a little brother or a little sister." She tells me. I had a smile on my face. I had always wanted to have a little sibling. "Do you know how long until you give birth? You already look really pregnant." I mentioned. "Not yet, but I don't think it will be much longer." Mom tells me. I nodded my head. "Well, I'm going to work on my homework in my room, so let me know if you need anything mom." I say.

I headed up to my room and pulled out my homework. It was hard to concentrate on it with how excited I was about learning that I was going to be a big sister. I got half my homework done before I paused. I was a bit confused. Mom wasn't pregnant this morning, and if she was, she definitely wasn't that far along. I looked around my room. It was weird how things were changing and all. I walked over to my window to look outside. Everything looked normal. I shake my head before going to turn on my radio so I could listen to music as I finished my homework. I sat back at my desk and finished my homework. I placed the homework in my bag when I suddenly heard some static coming from the radio. "Damn, the radio is messed up." I mumbled. I walked over to it to turn it off but paused when I heard someone talking. "Y/n... Y/n Maximoff. Can you hear me? Y/n." I heard the person say. I froze. Why was the radio station saying my name and how did they know my name? "Y/n, this isn't real." I hear again. I shake my head before turning it off. "That's weird." I say before heading back downstairs to eat dinner with my mom and stepfather.

Once I got downstairs and into the kitchen, I saw that my mom and Vision were finishing up dinner. "Hey kiddo." Vision says. I smiled. "Hey dad." I say before going to sit down at the table. "So, Wanda told me that she let you know that you are getting a new sibling." He said. I nodded my head. "I'm really excited." I say. I watched as mom brought the food to the table, and we all started to eat. "Oh, mom. Something weird happened in my room earlier." I say after a while. I was almost done with my food. She looked at me confused. "What do you mean angel?" She asked. I shrugged. "I don't even know what happened. I was working on my homework and turned on my radio. It played music for a while, but after I finished my homework, there was this static noise. I went to turn it off, but someone was calling out my name, asking if I could hear them and telling me that this wasn't real." I explained. I noticed an annoyed look on my mom's face, which confused me. Why would she be annoyed? "Don't worry about it angel. You probably were zoned out and made it up." Mom said. I paused, trying to think about what happened, but it was all fuzzy now. I just shrugged. "Probably." I say. We finished dinner, and I headed back up to my room for the night, after checking with my mom and giving her a hug goodnight. Maybe soon, we'll find out the gender of the baby, and then they'll be born. I walked home to my room with a smile on my face, glad that everything was going well and that mom and Vision were also happy. I laid on top of my bed covers and just thought about everything. "Y/n, don't let her mess with your memories. This isn't real. We are trying to get you out." I quickly looked over to my radio again. "What?" I asked. "Y/n Maximoff, your mother is messing with reality. This isn't real."

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mommyslittlebird · 2 months ago

Text

Mommy Wanda comforting virgin reader after they came SO fast their first time together.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy knows it was your first time. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“You wanna hide that sweet little face in my chest? Oh, darling. Come here. Let mommy rub your back.”

“Shshsh, that’s it. No, don’t cry sweetheart. Mommy’s got you.”

“There’s no need to be ashamed, pumpkin. Mommy understands you’re just a little sensitive, and that’s perfectly okay.”

“No no, baby. I’m not disappointed. You could never disappoint me, darling. Mommy’s still so proud of you, sweetheart. You did so good for me.”

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #mommy wanda #mommy!wanda #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda drabble

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ilovemarvel97 · 2 months ago

Text

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.