Im-

im-

Smut request with 15, 80 and 106 with Bully/Jock!Wanda from the prompt list! I hope this is a okay request and feel free to not include a prompt etc.

For the past four months, you’ve been assigned to photograph Wanda Maximoff, a model in high demand for her sculpted face, her high cheekbones and bright green eyes, freckles that were soft as they spread across her delicate face. She was the ideal client, and you’d been working for her for several months.

But it had been no less than hell.

Wanda was a piece of work. She took every chance to belittle you, to insult your work and put herself above those who worked with her, but you, especially.

‘You consider yourself to be a professional?’ Wanda barked at you when you’d shown her the photos you took of her for a spring magazine issue. She got in your face and pointed at your work on the screen. ‘I look completely washed out and I have no presence in any of these pictures. You expect to be paid and to have me recommend you to other agencies?’

Not knowing quite what to say, you stayed silent and drilled holes into her skull.

‘If you’re hoping to get anything from your privilege working with me, you’d better fix this shit,’ she demanded, pointing at the screen of your computer so hard the display warped into pixelated, abnormal colours under her finger. Wanda left the set, but not before pushing at your equipment and nearly having your tripod tumble down onto your keyboard. You stuck your hand out just in time to catch it.

In lesser words, Wanda Maximoff was a bitch.

She was a woman who had peaked in college and had never truly grown out of her highschool-mean-girl act. Her pretty face was the only reason she’d ever gotten where she was now, and that thought soothed you when your blood boiled after spending twelve hours a day or more with her.

Tonight, it was only you and her in the studio as you photographed her for a large event she would be attending, so it was a very important shoot. You’d been going at it since before dinnertime, and it was now midnight. Everyone else had gone home, and unsurprisingly, Wanda let everyone go but you.

You yawn from behind your camera as you snap photos of her from different angles.

“Sorry, is all of this boring you?” Wanda snaps as she looks down on you while you’re taking a photo of her from a lower angle. You take a picture in the middle of her scolding you with a scowl on her face and hold back a smirk at imagining releasing the photo without her knowledge.

“Frankly, yes,” you answer and stand up, flitting through the photos on your camera. “We’ve been at this for hours, Wanda. If I hadn’t gotten a good shot of you by now, there’s not going to be one.” You step off of the studio’s platform and walk to your equipment to look at the photos on your laptop.

Wanda trails after you, hot on your heels as she continues to shout insults at you. “No wonder why we’ve been here for so long. You’re a half-grade photographer who can’t work for shit,” she laughs. “There’s a reason why you’re failing at working with America’s top model, Y/N, and why you have to work late nights away from your shabby little studio apartment falling through, time and time again, to make someone like me look good on camera.”

You don’t know what, after months of listening to Wanda’s whining, finally made something snap deep within you, but before you knew what you were doing, you spun around and slapped the model across the face.

She stumbles back, gasping and raising a hand to her stinging cheek. She doesn’t shout at you, nor does she become angry, but instead her shoulders rise and fall shakily, her face shrouded by her hair. You step forward and take the bottom of her face in your hand, squeezing painfully.

“What?” you hiss, your face so close to her she can feel your warm breath on her nose. A sliver of humour flashes across your face. “Does that feel good?”

Wanda flushes immediately and tries to push you away, but you wrap your other arm around her waist and slap her again, stilling her body and making her look up at your face defiantly. Despite the way she breathed through her nose furiously, green eyes laced with rage as she looked at you, Wanda didn’t say a word.

You look down at her body, her low-cut dress and the angle at which you looked down at her exposing her breasts to you. She watches your eyes as they travel down her dress, and her breathing quickens. You step back from her and hook a finger around the neckline of her dress, exposing the bra she wore underneath.

“Take it off slowly,” you command.

Wanda’s body trembles with restrained anger, and something else you cannot place a finger on, but she listens and begins to strip in front of you. When she’s in nothing but her bra and panties, you tell her to take those off too. She argues, but you threaten to take your camera out and force her down onto the floor to take photos of her bare tits and spread them to every modelling agency.

She unclips her bra and slips her panties off.

When she’s completely naked, you step forward and place a hand on her shoulder before shoving her down to the floor so she’s on her knees. Wanda yelps out but you cover her mouth with your hand and dig your fingernails into her cheeks. With your other hand, you unzip your jeans and pull your own panties down. “Open your mouth,” you say simply.

Wanda’s breathing is rapid now, shaky, but her cheeks are flushed and she can’t look away from your glistening core. Before she can wonder at what point you started getting wet, you take a bunch of her hair and force her face between your thighs. She tries to pull away at first, but you pull at her hair painfully. After crying out against your clit, Wanda gives in and darts her tongue out to run up your slit.

As you buck your pussy down onto her face, you take your camera from your desk while Wanda’s distracted. You lift the camera to your chest and angle it down to the model on her knees. Her hands are on your ass, pulling you against her face and moaning as she laps her tongue against your soaking cunt.

When a bright flash flickers from on top of her, Wanda pulls away, her eyes wide and her lips parted in shock. She runs through her entire career in her mind, her life and her reputation. If the photo of her naked and on her knees, her face buried in her photographer’s pussy came out, everything would be ruined for her.

Needless to say, Wanda never snapped at you again, and never even dared to look you in the eye if you didn’t give her permission to.

a taste of honey || natasha romanov

summary: your intended date isn’t the one who’s actually sitting across from you. or gifting you a bottle of wine while eye fucking you.

words: 5.5k

pairing: ceo!natasha x ceo!fem!woc!readerthemes/ warnings: smut of the gay variety, finger fucking, getting ate out in a fancy bathroom, nipple play, pet name kink in russian (kitten, my love), pet name kink in english (honey, bunny, kitten), blink and you’ll miss it pain kink, allusions to dom/sub relationship, a misogynist WASP-y asshole named John (yeahhhhh, lol, that John), mentions of biphobia/homophobia, mentions of arranged marriages, reader’s mom is like Mr. Bennett from P&P.

note: a repost from my old account. thank you v v much to @cap-n-stuff for making this mood board the first time around and letting me carry it over here.

Not for the first time that night, you reluctantly tear your eyes away from the alluring red headed woman that was sitting at the bar and at your phone again to check the time.

9 pm.

It had already been an entire hour that you’ve reluctantly decided to stay for a date you reluctantly agreed to even more. When you weren’t too busy essentially eye fucking the red headed woman that kept sending smiles your way, you were checking your phone to see if the son of your mother’s work friend had even bothered to send a smoke signal of any kind.

Both of your mothers were really adamant (well, his more than yours, because even your own mother had her limits) about you going on this already disastrous date. It was something you had successfully avoided for months, until your mother had bamboozled you into the other night over Sunday dinner.

It was to be beneficial for everyone’s sake, especially for both families considering how well off everyone involved was. But you didn’t give a shit about doing things for other people’s benefit. You weren’t interested in becoming someone’s trophy wife, and you definitely already had a very successful business of your own to tend to.

Please do me this favor, little bird. You could practically hear your mother’s voice right in your ear as you sipped on another glass of finely aged Bordeaux, glancing at the mysterious woman yet again. As you swallow the carefully savored wine, you tilt your glass over to her in thanks before checking your phone for the umpteenth time in that moment.

You sigh, clearly annoyed that the guy hadn’t considered that your own time was equally as valuable.

“Sorry I’m late.”

The sudden intrusion shakes your attention, making you grimace. The guy removes his jacket and shakes it slightly, making a few raindrops fall into the half eaten bread basket, making you grimace.

Though the contents were no longer as warm as your initial outlook on this date, you had been planning on at least having one thing to eat for coming all the way out here.

“I’m John.” He’s already a little too posh for your liking. From his borderline condescending tone down to the way he extends a hand for you to shake (or kiss like he was some sort of mafia don, if you had to take a guess)--he’s rubbing you in all sorts of wrong ways. He looks like he stepped right out of a Men’s Health magazine--the epitome of picture perfect to most conventional people.

But you weren’t conventional, and you weren’t interested in picture perfect.

It takes a Herculean effort not to roll your eyes as you shake his hand in an impersonal way, also introducing yourself, before settling back in the respective seats again. You make a mental note about thoroughly washing your hands if you ever managed to make a clean break for the bathroom.

John hadn’t really done much of anything with a lot of effort. But you figured that was his thing--doing not a whole lot while blowing the effort out of proportion when it seemed most convenient to him. He hadn’t even bothered to ask if you had arrived to the date well, or if you had even looked forward to this inconvenience at all.

He was on just this side of icy with the waiter, all but shooing him off with his drink order. But most of all, he had interrupted the intense eye fucking that had been going on between you and the ridiculously attractive lady at the bar, currently surrounded by the menagerie of her friends.

You’re hoping he doesn’t mistake the shiver and flush you’re suddenly overcome with as something of his doing.

“I see you already helped yourself.” He says, eyeing the open bottle of Saint-Emilion that was already half empty along with the bread basket, “I hope you’re not too expensive down the line.”

Leaning back in your seat as you take another sip of wine, you glance over at your not so secretive admirer. Unlike you, it looks like she’s clearly enjoying herself with the company she has, an arm draped around one of them in what was hopefully a friendly way.. Part of you wishes that it had been her instead of John sitting in front of you. Lord only knows how much you would’ve enjoyed yourself more with her.

“Are you normally this quiet, or do you just save it for the bedroom?”

Turning back to your intended company of the evening, you couldn’t stifle the budding frustration in your stomach at John’s question. It was like no part of him was redeemable the longer you sat in his presence: misogynistic, condescending, and much too aloof for someone who’s probably had the silver spoon up his ass since the umbilical cord formed.

It’s also as if he’s been scrutinizing you the entire night. He’s got too much of an eagle eye on the way you hold your fork. The way you chew and wipe your lips with the cloth napkin. You can’t really get a word in while he’s talking about mostly himself and what he does at his family’s company. But it’s not like you’re really all that interested in having any sort of conversation with him anyway.

That’s why you feel no remorse when your gaze flitters back to the redhead again.

The weight of her stare doesn’t pass you by entirely. Another glance proves your guess correct, making you smirk a little. You tear your eyes away knowing you were looking a little too long, struggling to stifle a laugh when you look at the quizzical expression on John’s face.

The date clearly wasn’t between you and John anymore. It hadn’t been for the perpetual drone of his stuffy drawl, and the fact that he hadn’t realized it clearly amused you most of all.

It was clear that the not so foreign stranger was still interested in you by the way your skin prickled in goosebumps. It was also clear that in all his talking, John hadn’t even bothered to compliment your dress. For all you knew, it could’ve been too inappropriate for his tastes.

Fuck this guy, you thought. He clearly didn’t have any good tastes in clothes to even compliment you. He could fucking choke on his own self importance for all you cared.

Seeing as one out of the two of them seemed to genuinely enjoy your outfit, you figured it would be a shame to let your dress go to waste. You had put in great effort, as you do with most things in your life, and you were determined to get your much deserved validation from someone who’d truly appreciate it, and you.

You lean forward to rest your elbows on the table, resting your chin on top of your laced fingers to try and fight the urge to keep the slit of your dress revealing any more of your leg. You subtly cross one over the other, clenching your legs slightly, pushing your cleavage out a little to give a lovely view. Clearly none of it was for John’s enjoyment in any kind of way.

By some miracle, the message you were trying to send reached its intended recipient.

“Someone you know?” He asks, finally looking at you fully for the first time that night.

“Hm?” You cooly glance at your intended participant in this date, awful at hiding the sparkling interest in your eyes. “Oh, not at all.”

Not yet, at least.

You always were an awful liar.

For the first time that night, John gives you a semblance of an unrehearsed smile. He waits for you to elaborate, giving you time to sip and appreciate the wine you were gifted.

“I suppose it’s not too ridiculous to owe our admirer a thank you,” he adds after a poignant, uncomfortable silence. He was clearly feeling ignored, having trouble getting you to look at him longer than he liked you too.

“You mean my admirer.” You correct a little too quickly for his liking.

“I’m sorry?” He raises a brow, his expression matching the incredulous tone.

“You were late to this dinner by more than an hour, nowhere to be found. Didn’t even send so much as a courtesy text, so you could’ve stood me up for all I’ve cared.” The words came out a little more vehemently that you meant them too, but if he noticed it would be news to you. “So she is my admirer”

It doesn’t take anyone with half a brain cell to figure out what someone like John would react like when hearing that his “competition” was another woman. Someone as smug as he is, you can only brace yourself for the incredibly disgusting response you’ve received a million times before.

“Oh, then I have nothing to worry about.” John waves his hand as if to shoo away some superfluous thing flying around, laughing easily.

The very phrase itself makes you chortle loud enough to make him look at you weirdly again. Knowing that he was waiting for you to clarify yourself once more, you sigh and roll your eyes.

“I’m bisexual, John.”

“Oh!” he pipes up, eyes shining bright like he found some new toy to play with. Once again you feel your stomach roiling at the idea that was cooking up in his gelled up head. “So that means you--”

“Yes.”

“Would you be--”

“Absolutely fucking not.” You snap immediately, cutting off whatever fuckery he was already forming up in his brain.

Whether it was a request for a threesome or a request for you to not be…”obvious” (whatever the fuck that meant), you weren’t going to put up with it. You never had to, and you weren’t about to start tonight. Especially not from another guy who couldn’t even keep dinner appointments the least bit interested in what he had to say.

John doesn’t get much of a chance to say anything, jumping a little when you toss the cloth napkin a little too hard on the table. You didn’t give a fuck if it knocked anything over, you were sure he could afford it. He could complain about it to both of your mothers too, for all you fucking cared.

Snatching your clutch bag, you give him a murderous glare before shoving the chair back and making your way to the ladie’s room to cool off. Under any other circumstance, maybe one where you didn’t have any semblance of sanity or taste in actual human beings, you might’ve entertained your mother’s idea of becoming someone’s trophy wife.

You knew you’d get yelled at for ditching him with a mouth gaping like a fish struggling for air, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to give a fuck about it or him.

It’s not like you’re against the idea of threesomes, or inexperienced with them by any stretch of the imagination. But you just didn’t like it when men did this shit to you, or when women declared you gay by virtue of being with them. You knew exactly who you were, and you weren’t ever going to entertain anyone’s bullshit.

You’re determined not to have your resolve whittle away when you see that you have to pass by the enticing burgundy haired stranger to get to the women’s bathroom. She’s probably not paying attention to you anymore, but it doesn’t make the feeling in your stomach any less floppy.

You try to keep the knowing smirk at a minimum as you pass her by, squaring your shoulders and swaying your hips confidently as you pass her by, muttering a small “excuse me” to avoid bumping into another patron. You don’t see her green eyes following you, but you can sure feel them on your back.

Even if you never spoke tonight, she’d supplied you with plenty to fantasize about later over more wine and a nice, hot bath. Cliché, yeah, but you couldn’t help it.

Barreling into the surprisingly empty bathroom, you let the door slam in on itself as you let out a deep breath. You set your clutch down on the marbled countertop, turning the knob for the cold water to dip your hands into, and cool yourself--and the rage you were feeling, off.

You wondered about the mysterious woman back at the bar, and how she seemed to be having a genuinely fun time with what seemed like the rest of her friends. You figured you could probably scrawl your number on one of the thick, fancy gold embossed napkins--maybe pass it off to a waiter to give to her if you wanted to be mysterious about it all.

You’d make your way back home while it was all happening. Maybe start a nice warm bath that you were pondering earlier, with even more wine while spending some quality time with the plug and the vibrator; thinking about the woman that had already enraptured you so easily while you dragged out your own climax and pretending your fingers were here own, fantasizing about her voice.

Blinking at your reflection in the massive and well lit mirror, you pondered at the kind of compliment the woman would tell you. But you let out a hum of disappointment, knowing that the interaction the two of you had back outside was just a one off thing, a fantasy never to actually be acted upon.

You shrug, figuring you could at least take a decent selfie of yourself before making your way out the back. You adjust the imaginary wrinkles in your Dior dress, letting your hands linger on your waist for a moment before they travel up to your chest.Taking advantage of an empty bathroom, you shamelessly adjust your plush breasts. You let your palms linger, gently squeezing and caressing, once again wondering what it’d feel like to have her hands on your body instead of your own.

The door suddenly swings open, startling you out of your intimate hype session. But you’re too surprised to even let go of your own breasts, your brain trying to decide on what to do or what excuse to come up with.

Natasha’s sparkling hazel-green eyes hold your eye contact in the mirror, letting the door shut behind her.

“Hi there.” She all but coos, voice as smoky and husky as the mezcal she had been drinking earlier. She hums in approval as she looks, her glossy lips curling into a smirk when her gaze travels from your face down to your breasts. You can’t help the way they harden beneath her stare, nor the heat and the slick blooming between your legs.

She’s only said two words to you, and she already has you feeling a lustful weakness in her presence.

You let out something of an embarrassed whine, your agape mouth snapping shut in shame. Natasha saunters over to you while keeping eye contact, reaching over to turn off the faucet that was still trickling.

“I’m Natasha.” She says in lieu of a hello, resting her hip against the marble counter, angling her body towards your own as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

Your breath hitches, hands slowly coming back down to your sides as you imagine running your fingers across the smooth skin of her neck.

You swallow hard, almost struggling to say your own name. “Hi, Natasha.”

Fuck, you wanted to absolutely melt beneath her with the way she was looking at you like you were her dinner. You’re certain that the lascivious enthusiasm in her eyes is something that must’ve come naturally to her.

“Did you like the wine?” Natasha asks, as if she was asking a lover if they liked what she was doing to them in bed. She’s so close to you, standing just there, but she doesn’t do anything. She only looks, waiting for your next move.

“You have fine taste.” You said, nervously wiping your palms on your dress. It takes you a second to catch onto the innuendo of your words, and you’re flushing all over when you realize what you said as Natasha bursts out a beautiful, melodic laugh.

“I-I meant the wine…” You huff out, feeling quite embarrassed of your inability to keep a coherent sentence formed around someone attractive.

You were never usually like this around people, especially men. But then again, you had been ensconced in work for so long to even bother going on a date for who knows how long. Natasha was the first woman you had been this close to in such a long time, you’d be surprised if you hadn’t turned into a puddle of mush already.

Natasha licks her lips, and your eyes can’t help but focus on the burgundy colored gloss that left behind a nice stain. It looks just as inviting and tantalizing and sweet as the bottle of Bordeaux she had sent over to your table, that had now long been abandoned along with your tragically awful date.

She catches on to you glancing at the clock above the door, because the next thing she asks you is how much time you’ve got left until you have to go back. She could tell you were trying to plan your escape, even if it meant walking out of the front door and pretending like you couldn’t see him at all.

You swallow again as you feel your pulse quicken, angling your neck to rid yourself of the discomfort. You wondered if you could get Natasha to come home with you, or if you could get her to take you home with her. The low huskiness of Natasha’s voice and the sparkle of mischief in her eyes reel you in even more, and you knew then that you were a goner.

“Honestly? I don’t give a fuck.”

Natasha’s eyes widened slightly at your frankness for the first time that night. For a moment you wonder if you fucked up, if you came onto her too strong or too desperately.

But you’re not left wondering about her intentions with you for much longer at all.

It all happens too fast and too slow at the same time. In a single moment, your feet, ensconced in matching Dior heels, are still on the floor as Natasha backs you up further and further until your lower back is pressing into the edge of the counter.

Her soft, perfectly manicured hands roam your torso until she keeps one on your waist while the other one reaches up to softly cradle your jaw, thumb softly tracing your full lips--as if asking for your consent before she proceeds to do anything to you, with you.

You release another whine, unable to hide the way you squeeze your thighs together to keep your slick from escaping the confines of your body and your underwear any more than you could help. Natasha keeps your eye contact, humming softly when she feels your lips kiss the pad of her thumb just so before wrapping your lips around it and taking it into your mouth a little, experimenting with how far you could go.

As much as Natasha liked the feeling of your tongue around her fingers and how much it made her think what other parts of her could get your lips on and around, she was desperate to kiss you. She slots her lips across your own, hands cradling your head to kiss you more, deeper.

The kiss is all kinds of messy and desperate, hot breaths and moans and please 's and oh fuck 's escaping both of you as hips grind into each other. Your hands finally touch her, roaming everywhere to be able to feel everything, until they reach her chest, slightly smaller but no less plentiful. You knead them softly, thumbs running over her nipples, experimenting with just how much she liked, earning a shaky moan out of her that you swallow in the kiss.

“Can I--” Her words are slightly shaky as you knead her breasts again, a little more firmly this time, as she rucks up the skirt of your dress.

“I will literally cry if you don’t.”

Natasha beams, “Oh. You’ll see.” As much as she loved the way you played with her breasts, she was eager to make you see stars now that she had your attention.

“Up.” She commands, nearly making you come right there and then with the authoritative tone of her voice, “I want to see just how fine my taste is.”

You’re able to steal one more kiss from Natasha before she growls, making you quickly place your hands on the counter for support as you hop up with some help from her. You let out a small squeal at the feel of the cool marble on your bare ass, giggling when you see her shake her head.

Natasha gently quiets you with a small squeeze to your lush hips, nudging her nose with yours.

“You trust me?” She asks, hands fiddling with the straps of your lacy thong, “Because I’ve got you.”

You dig your teeth into your lips, nodding desperately. A shaky moan escapes you as she unzips your dress slightly so she can pull it down, revealing your bare chest to her.

“Naughty girl.” She coos, eyeing the nipple piercings adorning your chest. A delicate, red gem adorning each end of the metal studs. Natasha bends down as she pulls the top of your dress down, practically unwrapping you like a gift, and takes a nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it as if savoring a fine ice cream.

You hiss at the arousal that sizzles through your body, nearly already lost in the heat of it all until you remember an important detail.

“W-wait, Natasha--”

Natasha instantly stops, thinking she did something wrong.

“The door..” You gasp out, “Someone will--”

That predatory smile that had you melting returns to her face. “Maybe they will. I can lock it, if you want.” Natasha’s fingers dance across your waist, toying with the fabric of your dress as she pushes it further up slowly.

“But isn’t it more exciting, knowing that anyone, even that asshole date of yours, could walk in here while I’m eating you out, my tongue deep in your cunt?”

Natasha’s words nearly have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, pulse fluttering as much as your lashes.

Eyes, and lips, meet again. Crashing messily and consuming each other with determination. Natasha searches every inch of your soft, lightly cocoa lotion scented skin. Her lips and teeth latch onto whatever part of you will make you shudder and melt underneath her touch. Your fingers hook themselves together behind her neck while she practically unwraps your dress from your body like a gift, letting it pool and gather around your waist.

At this point, your outfit stops resembling a dress entirely--tucked up above the swell of your ass and completely exposing almost your whole body to her. The cool air of the bathroom pebbles your nipples, both of which Natasha plays with teasingly, mouth and hand switching breasts. The metal of your piercings amplifies the feeling electrifying your veins, making you eager for more with each lick and nip.

“You’re not playing fair…” You whine, throwing your head back as your knuckles strain with your tightening hold of the counter’s edge.

Natasha draws her lips away with a soft pop, kissing the swell of your breast, then your sternum until the ephemeral kisses reach right below your ear. “I’m not really one to follow the rules. But I like making an art out of breaking them.”

“You’re also wearing too much.” You groan, pouting when Natasha tuts at your grabby hands.

“I’ll make it up to you later, Китти.” She murmurs, loving how you wiggle underneath her touch as she slides the thong over your soft things and further down your legs until she can actually take them off and pocket them in her pants. Her hands are on your knees again, massaging them softly. “Spread your legs for me nice and wide, baby.”

The praises were already doing you in, doing wonderful things to the arousal crackling like electricity throughout your body. Your stomach swoops and flutters when Natasha glides down to her knees without any hesitation, determined to make you see stars.

You moan softly, head lolling to the side against the mirror, nibbling on your bottom lip as you eagerly spread yourself open for her.

“That’s it, honey.” She coos, rubbing your legs encouragingly before sliding your legs over her shoulders. Her warm breath on your center practically has you shuddering.

She makes a whole show of it: sucking and licking her fingers to lubricate them with enough spit. Both of you were sure you were pretty wet as it is, but Natasha enjoys making a whole thing of the pleasure she wants to give you. And you enjoyed the pretty show she was giving you.

“Relax for me, bunny.” She says in between soft kisses on your inner thighs, “We’re both going to enjoy the hell out of this.”

You whine even more when Natasha softly blows some air over your center, teasing you just over your slit by kissing you everywhere but directly where you want. She looks up at you, enjoying the way she watches you squirm, desperate for her to fuck you.

“Please, ‘tasha…” You whine, “Want it, want you.”

Natasha finally decides to indulge you, and herself. Holding on to your legs that were over her shoulders, she opens you a little wider and makes sure you’re not going anywhere before she digs in. Her tongue softly laps at your folds to spread the arousal. She hums at the taste of you, the sounds vibrating against you.

Natasha is absolutely driving you insane with need, each soft kiss and lick stoking the fire hotter. She explores your cunt like she did the rest of you, tongue lapping at you from your hole to your clit until she pushes her face in, determined to make good on her promise to make you cry.

When you feel her slide in a finger, then another in, you slap a hand against the marble counter, squealing when she begins to curl her fingers in the way she could tell you liked. Just like with your nipples, she takes your clit into her lips, softly rolling it with her tongue while her fingers play you like a game she’s played thousands of times before.

Your hips start to squeeze her head, making Natasha hum loudly against your clit. The sensation gets you to start rolling your hips, wanting her fingers to go in as deep as they could. Natasha learns fast, loving the way you preen at the way she touches that spot that has you melting and your mouth dropping open. She slides in a third finger, and you moan at how full you feel. You let out the most embarrassing noises, sobbing at how very little effort it takes Natasha to get you to the precipice of your orgasm. Sagging breaths leave your lungs when you feel her fingers come to a still.

“Shhh, baby, keep quiet for me.” She digs her free fingers into your thigh when you try to move and seek more pleasure. “You don’t want anyone checking in on us because of the noise and walking in, do you?” She moans when she feels your velvety walls clench around her fingers, letting her feel just how wet she was making you. “Oh, you like it when people watch,” —tsk-tsk— “naughty girl.”

“Maybe next time we can get someone to join, huh? Would you like that, kitten? Have someone watch us while I ruin your pussy with a toy?”

“I-I..Nat..” Your body starts to shake, hips meeting the thrusts of her fingers. You prop your leg up on her shoulder, keening at the groan she releases when she feels your heel dig into her slightly. “Please, I want it. I’m gonna--’mgonna cum soon. Fuck. I wanna cum so bad, please.” —”You wanna cum, baby? Wanna make a mess all over me?” — “Pleasepleaseplease.” — “That’s my girl, there you go. You’re doing so good for me, honey.”

You thread your fingers through Natasha’s hair, tugging at her roots the more your orgasm builds and builds inside of you. You think you’re being too rough on her, but you’re proven wrong by the way Natasha groans at the pull of her hair in pleasure the more she eats you out like a woman starved. It makes her actions on you grow more enthusiastic than before.

That familiar flutter in the pit of your belly comes alive again when Natasha keeps her fingers in you, rolling her tongue harder against your clit, curling her knuckles deeper in your weeping slit as the tips of her fingers toy with the spongy spot inside of you.

“Fuck, that’s it…’m so close.” You moan, “s’little more…”

A loud, sharp knock rattles the door and you gasp, sweaty body trembling as your shocking climax leaves you boneless and breathless. You groan loudly, feeling yourself make a mess all over the counter and on Natasha’s face. You bite your lip harshly to try and muffle the moans the best you can, even if it meant tasting copper on your tongue.

Natasha is careful to slow down her movements, cooing to you about how good of a job you did making a mess all over her as you tremble and come down from your high.

The voices from behind the door grow more desperate and instant. You start to scramble to get your dress back on you, but Natasha is already on it, helping you zip up. She pulls away after kissing your forehead to bark orders at the people behind the door, “Give us a damn minute! Dealing with some issues if you couldn’t tell!”

Leaning into Natasha’s arms as she rubs your back while zipping up your dress, you chortle into her shoulder.

Natasha listens for a few more moments, making sure the footsteps faded away for sure before getting her attention back onto you. She hums softly, small smile on her lips when she sees the dopey, soft look on your face as you practically curl yourself into her embrace.

“How do you feel?” She asks, cradling your face after tossing the napkin used to clean your smudged makeup into the bin. “You okay?”

“Mm,” you purr, closing your eyes for a moment as you appreciate the feel of her caressing your face, “I just need a moment.”

“Been a long time?” Natasha jokes, chuckling when she sees you nod bashfully.

Despite regaining the feeling back in your legs, you’re feeling much too self indulgent to even think of forcing yourself out of Natasha’s arms. It wasn’t like she was forcing you to get off her either, so the both of you indulge yourselves in a close embrace, soft coos and whispers in between short kisses and giggles.

You can’t help yourself but shiver at the way Natasha licks the remainder of your climax from the corner of her lips, so you try to regain some composure by holding her hand after hopping down from the counter.

“When can I return the favor?” You ask her, glancing at yourself in the mirror to make sure you looked the most presentable as you could.

“Is this your way of trying to get my number?” She teases, squeezing your hand before cleaning up herself.

Your cheeks heat up again, using your tongue to soothe your swollen lips. “I was actually hoping you’d wanna come home to mine, or uh..me to yours. Whatever works.”

One step, then another, and Natasha is in front of you again. There’s something about the way she towers over you despite being almost the same height as her that has you feeling small, protected by her enough to be able to let your guard down.

“I like it when you’re bold.” She says in a hushed tone, holding your chin with her thumb and forefinger. Natasha’s always been used to the women that are much too shy for her own liking. She can see that you're someone to be discovered.

“Not as bold as fucking someone else’s date on the bathroom counter.” Already, you were thinking about taking her thumb into your mouth again.

“Touché. But you’re going to break that guy’s heart, you leaving with me.”

You roll your eyes, “It was an arranged date. We only met an hour ago.”

“So did we.”

“So what if we did?” You ask, holding her wrist as she cradles your jaw, kissing the pad of her thumb softly. “You ditched your friends too.”

“That I did.” She conceded.

“Then, I’d like to find out what you’d be like on a proper date, Natasha.” You say, before sticking close to her as you two weasel your way out of the restaurant.

“I think I’d like to find out too, моя любовь.” She agrees, arm around you as she unashamedly rests her hand on your butt.

1K notes View Post

nattiesangel

2 years ago

BRO I SCREAMED CREAMED AT ALL OF THAT

#thebests

New Neighbor

Pairing: Camgirl!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: A twist of fate brings you unexpectedly closer to the camgirl you watch twice a week.

Warnings: 18+ nsfw content; bottom!wanda, masturbation, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, toys, dirty talk

A/N: Welcome to my first series! This one will be three parts.

Part 1 of “The Camgirl Next Door” | Series Masterlist

–––––––––––––

Truthfully, you don’t remember exactly how it started.

One day, you had inadvertently come across the account of one “Scarlet Witch” on some stereotypical camgirl website and ever since then, you’d found yourself tuned in for every show.

But there was nothing stereotypical about Scarlet Witch herself.

For starters, she was absolutely breathtaking from head to toe, and god, you had seen it all. But she wasn’t just a pretty face - and a pretty body of course - she was so much more.

She never came across as solely performative. Sure, she put on a great show, but it never seemed forced and she was beyond adorable when interacting with her subscribers. It sounded rather silly to say about someone you’d never met, who also did this for a living, but she always seemed genuine.

You’d learned her name was Wanda. She was Sokovian and sometimes her accent came out when she was completely lost in her pleasure, her voice low and raspy. Certain compliments made her blush and when she laughed, her body shook as if she couldn’t contain it.

Everything about her drew you in from that very first show you’d curiously decided to watch. You simply couldn’t get enough of her.

After an especially tough day at work, you were looking forward only to Wanda’s show. You made it home just in time to hastily put together a quick dinner and take a shower before Wanda’s stream started.

Once comfortable in bed, you pulled up her account on your laptop and scrolled on your phone while waiting for the show to start. When Wanda’s endearing nose scrunch graced your screen, your phone was swiftly discarded, your eyes glued to her like always.

“Hi everyone,” she said, sitting on her bed in a black silk robe, hints of red lingerie peeking out through the loosely tied front. She began reading her chat comments as per usual and responding to the warm welcomes.

You sent a greeting with a tip and felt your whole body flush when she responded sweetly to your message.

“Thank you WitchsGirl! I hope you had a beautiful day yourself.”

Even the way she said your username had you practically swooning and you imagined how your real name would sound in that voice you adored so much, sweet like honey but far from innocent.

As the show went on, you sent her a few more tips, one to encourage her to take some clothing off, another to see her edge herself.

You ignored the part of you that knew the real reason you were so generous with your tips was not for your own viewing pleasure. At the end of the day, you wanted her to feel appreciated. And if a small dollar amount could make her smile on a particularly rough day or help her buy that one thing she really wanted, you’d give in every time.

Not to mention, she was amazing at what she did.

Watching her touch herself, listening to her moans, seeing those long, pretty fingers stretch herself out - it made you feel hot all over. It also made your imagination run wild. You wanted badly to be the one getting those reactions out of her.

You thought about her far more than you should’ve, wondering how she liked to be fucked when she was with a partner, how loud she could really get, what positions were her favorites, the list was endless.

And every time you sat there and watched her rub her clit in tight circles, her glistening cunt on full display, juices dripping down her thighs, you couldn’t help but wonder so much about how she would taste.

Would she be sweet, or tangy, or both? Would she let you tease her until she was desperate, or would she grab you by your hair and fuck your face until she was satisfied?

As your mind spun with the possibilities, you were drawn back to the present by the sight of her coming undone on your screen.

She looked like a work of art when she came, with her eyebrows furrowed so cutely, eyes squeezed shut, and her mouth hung open in pure pleasure.

The whimpers that left her mouth made you uncomfortably wet and it wasn’t uncommon for you to join her, getting yourself off to the sights and sounds only her show could give you.

You felt a twinge of sadness as she began to say her goodbyes for the night, but you’d see her again in a couple days and you couldn’t wait.

You became especially excited for the next show when she teased that she’d be using toys, blowing a kiss to the camera before ending the stream.

Despite the long and frustrating day you’d had, you fell asleep with a smile on your face and hoped your dreams would be filled with Wanda.

The day of her next show caught up with you before you knew it.

Work was busy, but the good kind of busy, and you arrived home so pleasantly tired each night that sleep came easily.

It was your day off and you were making your morning coffee when you heard some commotion outside. Out of curiosity, since you did live in a rather quiet apartment complex, you decided to see what was going on.

When you opened the door, you gasped at what you saw.

There she was - Wanda, Scarlet Witch, your guilty pleasure - moving boxes into the unit next door.

You couldn’t believe your own eyes. The woman you fantasized about regularly, who had no idea who you were, was… your new neighbor?

A thousand thoughts took over your mind, none of them helpful as she noticed your presence.

She’s even prettier in real life. I’m dreaming, aren’t I? Is she moving in? Oh god, how will I even act around her? Maybe she’s helping someone else move. Maybe she’s not. Her hair looks so soft. And her eyes… they’re the perfect shade of green. Her eyes that are looking directly at me, oh fuck.

“Hi, do you live here?” she asked cheerily, setting down the boxes she was holding.

“Uh, y-yeah… yes, I do.” You wanted to slap yourself for being such a nervous wreck in front of her. “Are you moving in?”

“Yes! Just signed a one-year lease,” she said, before shaking her head. “Sorry, my name’s Wanda.”

She held out her hand for you to shake, the same hand you watched her pleasure herself with twice a week, but you tried not to think about that.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N,” you replied, awkwardly returning the gesture and feeling yourself flush as your hands touched for the first time. “Do you, um, need any help?”

“No, it’s okay! I’m just bringing up some of the important stuff and I have movers helping with the rest, but thank you,” she beamed, appearing truly grateful for the offer.

Doing your best not to let there be an uncomfortable silence, you came up with a friendly response.

“Well, if you need any help, let me know. Or if you have any questions about the place. Anything really!” You rubbed the back of your neck, trying to physically force the nerves out of your body. “You know where I live, so…”

“Right, thank you. I appreciate it,” she smiled. “See you around, Y/N.”

And with that she was collecting her boxes again to take them inside her apartment.

You rushed back inside your own apartment, finally letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

See you around, Y/N.

The way your name rolled off her tongue had a smile making its way onto your face, but the other half of her sentence filled you with dread.

See you around. You would be seeing her, she was your neighbor now. You’d barely survived brief introductions with her and you knew this wasn’t the last time you’d have to interact with her.

You were torn between pure joy and crippling anxiety.

And guilt.

You felt waves of guilt hit you as reality settled in. Wanda had seemed so excited to have met her neighbor, someone kind and willing to help. She had no idea you knew her already, and quite intimately at that. You’d seen her fully exposed, you were familiar with how she liked to touch herself, you knew what her face looked like when she was denied an orgasm, and also when she had one. And she was completely unaware of it.

The guilt drove you to miss her show that night.

You couldn’t bring yourself to watch, knowing she was filming it next door, especially knowing that in her mind, you were probably watching television or reading a book to relax for the night, not watching her masturbate on camera.

It didn’t even occur to you that she might’ve been thinking of you that night, her attractive new neighbor, as she clenched around her favorite toy in front of her viewers.

You opted out of tuning in for the next few weeks.

During this time, Wanda had actually taken you up on your offer and had come knocking on your door with questions about the complex.

She tried not to feel bad about bothering you, not when your face lit up every time she stopped by.

Not even when she considered she might just be coming up with things to be confused about so she would have an excuse to talk to you.

You certainly didn’t mind helping her, in fact, those brief moments were the new highlights of many of your days.

The more you saw her, the more you were motivated to stay away from her online activities. Being around her felt way too good for you to mess it up by watching her shows and letting the guilt gnaw away at you piece by piece.

Some nights, you swore you could hear her performances through the apartment walls. With red tinting your cheeks and heat pooling between your legs, you’d put on music to drown out any faint sounds that might make their way over.

It seemed that Wanda wasn’t seeing anyone, which gave you hope. She rarely had people over and the few times you’d run into each other on your way out, she mentioned she was going to see her brother or her best friend, Monica.

You wanted to do this right, despite the occasional nagging feeling that you were lying to her, or at least omitting the truth.

You felt especially bad when you had to feign interest in her work, asking her what she did for a living as if you didn’t already know. She responded saying something about online networking and you bit your lip to hide your smile at her cover.

You knew you were crushing hard, so you tried to live your lie. As much as you really wanted to at times, you didn’t let yourself give into temptation. You didn’t watch her shows.

Until one night, when you received an unexpected email notification.

It was a link for an “exclusive” Scarlet Witch livestream. It wasn’t one of her normal show nights and that piqued your interest.

The email said she would be doing something extra special to give back to the most devoted of her viewers. Your curiosity outweighed your conscience, and you found yourself back on the website you thought you’d left behind.

When she appeared on screen, you felt a mix of guilt and excitement. You had missed seeing her like this, but it also felt wrong and you tried to push that feeling down and just focus on her.

She went through her introductions, saying hello and thank you to viewers as they joined and chatted and sent small tips. You didn’t want to seem cold, knowing you were usually one of her best tippers, so you went against your better judgment and sent in a greeting and a tip as well.

“Welcome back, WitchsGirl, I’ve missed you darling. And thank you for the generous tip,” Wanda said into the camera, flashing a smile. You felt as though you could melt right then and there. She’d noticed your absence all this time and you briefly wondered if just disappearing like that was a dick move; you hadn’t even considered that she would notice, let alone miss you.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Wanda’s voice over the stream.

“So tonight’s show is gonna be a little different,” she started. “I would like to make a private custom video for my highest tipper. Whoever it ends up being, just private message me what you’d like to see in your video and I’ll make your dreams come true.”

Your jaw dropped. A custom video, just for you, for your eyes only.

You didn’t know if it was the overwhelming desire to see her in a way no one else would get to or if it was the jealousy that consumed you at the thought of someone else getting that chance instead, but your mind was already made up.

You knew it was wrong, but you simply couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this.

You started out tipping slowly in smaller amounts, just to keep up with some of the other viewers. But at the end of the show, when she was about to call it, you sent in the highest tip of the night, securing the prize as your own.

“Wow, thank you WitchsGirl, looks like I’ll be making something very special for you!” she exclaimed with a shocked expression on her face, followed by a suggestive smile.

Your heart was beating fast in your chest, and it only worsened when you received a message from her after the livestream had ended.

Let me know what you’d like to see in your video, sweetheart <3

You blushed at the pet name, even though you knew she was really saying it to the anonymous “WitchsGirl” and not to you directly.

You thought long and hard about what you wanted to request, and then it came to you. You remembered seeing something on a website one time - a sizable dark red dildo with a clit-sucking vibrator to match - and thinking of her, Scarlet Witch.

Is it possible for me to buy you something to use for the video?

You nervously pressed send and waited for her response, which came surprisingly fast.

That’s so sweet, I would love that. Just use the “send a gift” link on my page.

You followed the link and purchased the items, smiling to yourself as you imagined her reaction. Would she think it was thoughtful? Would she like the symbolism?

Before you could get too wrapped up in your own thoughts, you decided to message her back.

Ordered, expedited shipping. I hope you enjoy pretty girl.

That night, you fell asleep to thoughts of Wanda, filming something just for you, using the toys you picked out for her to pleasure herself.

Two days later, Wanda received a package.

She knew it was her gift for the video since she wasn’t expecting anything else and she almost couldn’t contain her excitement.

She opened the package enthusiastically and gasped when she saw its contents. She picked up the large silicone cock first, mouth agape not only at the length and girth, but at the deep red color of it. She loved that it was a matching set. She focused her attention on the vibrator next, making a mental note to make sure she charged it or put in batteries, whichever was required.

She set the items down to dispose of the packaging when she noticed something odd. There was a name on the package that wasn’t hers.

It was yours.

She frowned in confusion. Why would your name be on her package? Her mind raced with possible explanations, but she only landed on one that made sense.

But you couldn’t be WitchsGirl, could you?

Sure, she’d caught your eyes lingering on her before and sometimes she wondered if you liked her in more than just a friendly way, but until now she’d assumed it was pretty innocent.

Then she thought about how one of her best and most adoring viewers had disappeared for weeks, ever since… the day she met you.

Oh. It really was you.

Upon this realization, she knew exactly what she had to do.

Later that night, you settled into bed with a cup of tea and a new episode of your favorite show on Hulu waiting for you.

You were about to put it on when your phone chimed with a notification, which you might’ve ignored if the “Scarlet Witch” in the preview didn’t catch your eye.

You opened it up and felt your body heat up at the thumbnail of the video link attached. Any thoughts of doing anything else went out the window and you were already opening the link, ready to see Wanda using the toys you’d bought for her.

A sultry “hi baby” was the first thing you heard when you pressed play and it sent a shock of arousal straight to your core.

You bit your lip at the sight of Wanda sitting atop her bed in nothing but a lacy set of black lingerie, with two maroon-colored items in front of her. You were certain if you could see yourself in that moment, you’d be as red as her new toys.

“Thank you for these, I love them,” she said, running her hands along her thighs. “I can’t wait to fill myself up with this one.” She ran her fingertips along the thick dildo, then moved them to the vibrator, picking it up. “And this one… I bet it’s gonna feel so good on my clit.”

She bit her lip and you knew you were a goner, already clenching your thighs together.

She took off her bra and cupped her breasts, massaging them as she looked into the camera. If you were being honest, it felt more like she was looking into your soul. She pinched and teased straining pink nipples, letting out affected breaths as she worked herself up.

“If you were here, I’d have you suck on them. Just the thought is making me so wet.”

God. You’d heard her talk dirty before, but never to you and you only. You tried to control your breathing as you kept watching.

She teased herself over her panties, stroking her fingers along the front of them before pulling them to the side and exposing her bare pussy. You could tell she was wet from the way the light hit her slick folds and you practically drooled.

She covered herself once more, much to your dismay, but you couldn’t complain when she was hooking her fingers in the top of her panties and pulling them down.

She spread her legs for you, using one hand to spread herself open and give you a better view of her dripping center.

Wanda lazily touched herself for a minute, stroking her clit and dipping her fingers inside of herself, before she moved her hand to her mouth and sucked her digits clean.

“Mmm, I bet you want a taste too, don’t you sweetheart?”

Yes. Please. You wanted to plead out loud as if you weren’t watching a prerecorded video. It almost felt cruel for her to tease you with the prospect of something you’d wanted for so long.

She reached for the vibrator first and turned it on at a low setting. She swiped it through her folds before pressing the suction part to her clit and letting out a shaky moan. “Fuck, this was such a good gift detka.”

You throbbed at her words, especially the term of endearment. You’d never heard her say it on any of her streams before, you weren’t even really sure what it meant, but it aroused you to no end.

She increased the vibrations and started letting out desperate, needy moans, her hips beginning to buck into the toy. She looked like an absolute meal, spread out for you, as she humped against the item you gifted her.

Her eyes were fluttering shut despite her trying to maintain eye contact with the camera and you could tell she was getting close already. Watching her let go and lose herself in her pleasure without the pressure of tippers begging for her to edge or telling her what they wanted to see was heavenly.

“Oh, fuck, do you want-” she cut herself off with a whimper. “Do you want to see me cum like this?” She panted as she spoke, her eyes shut tightly as she teetered on the edge.

You wished you could respond and tell her yes, you wanted to watch her fall apart just like that.

As if she could hear your thoughts, she kept the toy latched onto her sensitive clit until she was crying out. Her body shook as she hit her peak, her hips nearly lifting off the mattress. You were certain you’d soaked through your own underwear at the sight of her riding out her orgasm against the vibrator in her hand, her head thrown back and her face contorted in pleasure.

“God,” she breathed out as she came down from her high. “I’m definitely using this again. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to put it down after that.”

She laughed breathily at her own comment, but your gaze was fixed on the space between her legs, where a string of her juices hung between the toy and her messy pussy. You wished you were there to collect it into your mouth.

“I think I’m wet enough for this one now, hm?” Her words brought you out of your trance and you watched as she replaced the vibrator in her hand with the large dildo you had almost forgotten about.

She brought it up to her lips, sucking on the head for a moment, and then moved it lower. She dragged it through her folds, coating the length of the toy with her arousal. You cursed under your breath - you didn’t think you’d ever seen her this wet.

She teased her entrance with the head of the fake cock, dipping it inside before pulling out again. You looked at her face, almost choking at the sinful gaze she was giving the camera, green eyes dark with lust.

Wanda groaned as she finally pushed the toy inside her aching center, her walls fluttering around the welcome intrusion. Your thighs pressed together tightly at the view of her filling herself to the brim, her chest heaving.

“Fuck, I’ve never been so full,” she whined, adjusting to the size. “It’s so big, you’re filling me up so good.”

You audibly moaned at that, beginning to think that if she kept talking to you that way you’d fall apart without even being touched.

She began slowly pumping the toy in and out of her tight hole, moaning each time it disappeared inside her cunt. You could hear how wet she was, sloshing sounds reaching your ears with every thrust.

“Shit, that feels so good, so fucking good,” she breathed out, increasing her pace. “Maybe next time I’ll ride it for you, would you like that?”

Your heart nearly stopped at her words. Next time?

“Mmm, god, you know what I’m thinking about? You, wearing this, fucking me with it,” she panted out. “Do you want to fuck me slow and edge me all night? Or would you fuck me fast and rough and make me cum?” As she spoke, she began to thrust the toy with more force, her free hand gripping the sheets desperately.

The thought of using the toy on her made you dizzy with lust. You imagined kissing her neck as you pounded into her or laying back as she bounced in your lap, making you beg to touch her.

“I’m so close, detka, oh!” Her eyes slammed shut as the tight coil inside her became almost unbearable. “Fuck, Y/N, right there, I’m-”

Before she could finish her sentence, she came, hard.

She spasmed against the bed, her thighs seeming unsure if they wanted to close or stay open with how violently they twitched. Her moans came out broken, her mouth hung open in a silent scream.

She gushed around the toy, cum spilling out with each thrust as she slowed down her movements.

You felt like the luckiest person on the planet. You were insanely turned on by what you were seeing and hearing through your screen. She looked beautiful in the throes of pleasure, and the way she moaned your name as she hit her peak did unspeakable things to you.

The way she moaned your name.

You hazily registered that she’d cried out your actual name, not your username, but you were distracted as she spoke again.

“That was… fuck,” she said, breathing heavily and attempting to sit up straight. “Thank you for these. I hope you enjoyed your gift as much as I enjoyed mine.” She had a goofy, blissed out smile on her face and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Goodnight, detka, I’ll be seeing you.”

She ended the video there and everything that had just happened played over in your mind. How were you ever supposed to act normal around her again after this?

Not only that, but she’d moaned your name when she came undone. Was that an accident? Was she thinking about the real you while she touched herself and it just slipped out? Or did she somehow know that the person she was making that for was you?

No, there was no way she could know that.

You mulled it over for a while and decided to sleep on it. Your mind was running in circles and you were exhausted. On top of that, you were still extremely sexually frustrated.

You tossed and turned, attempting to ignore your nagging thoughts brought on by the night’s events. Eventually, you did fall asleep, your exhaustion finally taking over your impeccable ability to overthink.

The next morning, you woke up later than usual, deciding to make breakfast instead of coffee since you overslept.

Spending time in the kitchen with some music in the background kept your mind off of things - thank god, you weren’t quite ready to deal with reality just yet - but a knock at the door interrupted the moment.

You weren’t sure who you were expecting to see, but it certainly wasn’t Wanda, looking adorable as ever in a skirt and black thigh-highs.

“Hi,” you managed, nerves kicking in.

“Hey,” she said, looking at you sweetly with those hypnotizing green eyes. “Sorry if this is weird but I was wondering if you had any honey? I just made some tea and I didn’t realize I ran out of honey…”

“Uh, yeah, I think I do,” you responded, stepping back from the doorway. “You can come in while I look.”

“Sure, thank you.”

You went back to the kitchen, Wanda trailing behind, and began to search the cabinets for wherever you might’ve left it.

“If you don’t have any, that’s fine too,” she said softly.

As you looked around, you didn’t notice Wanda coming further into the kitchen, where she leaned against the counter and looked at you with a smirk on her face.

You located the honey, but the next words out of Wanda’s mouth made your heart stop and the bottle fall from your grasp.

“So, did you enjoy my video, Y/N?”

2K notes View Post

nattiesangel

3 years ago

1K notes View Post

nattiesangel

3 years ago

Cuts of Your Silhouette

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda can no longer go to the universe where she'd be most happy but she'll use all the power she's accumulated so far to go the universe where she's most loved. What she finds in this universe is unexpected but in the end, Wanda cannot help but covet it no matter what.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. soft!dark!Wanda. dubcon. explicit smut. Fingering. Oral. choking. overstimulation. strap-on use (cum filled). dirty talk. obsessive behaviour. domestic fluff. angst. MoM spoilers

Note: Innocent moots, don't look at me 👀 This is me acknowledging MoM but only in the fact that Wanda is so hot and deserves to be happy in her own unhinged way LOL

miláčik - honey/darling

Count: 7.2k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The universe where I'm most loved.

Wanda chants this only thing in her head, cautious hope blooming where there was only decay.

Earth-838 was no longer an option, thanks to Strange's incessant determination to stop her from becoming happy.

That universe was closed off to her, but it was okay. If Wanda couldn't have the universe where she was most happy, she could make do with where she was most loved.

Wanda has just enough of America's power to make one trip, and she needs to make it count before Strange could come and ruin everything again.

The universe where I'm most loved.

A part of Wanda feels like she's missing something important from this universe she's abandoning. It almost feels as if something is resisting her from going to the universe where she's most loved, but Wanda forces her body to traverse.

Enough.

Wanda has had enough of the grief and misery this universe brought. She has always loved more and loved harder than everyone else in her life. For once, Wanda wants to be the person who is loved beyond imaginable measures.

And this new universe will give that to her.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

White quartz.

It's the first thing Wanda notices. The kitchen island is huge, stretching and covering the middle of the kitchen, and she immediately falls in love with it.

Wanda misses cooking real meals, a part of her that was subdued over time, with the lack of time and survival at the forefront. But this kitchen looked well-used while spotless.

The smell of freshly baked cookies invades Wanda's nose, and she almost feels flustered at how homey it makes her feel.

Looking up, Wanda turns her head and is shocked by her own reflection. Her hair is still a bright auburn, falling just a couple of inches below her shoulder with some natural waves as if she hadn't bothered straightening or fully curling it.

"Mom, mom, mom!"

The sudden voices and thudding footsteps through the door startle Wanda. She looks to where the front door opened, and two tiny bodies come barreling through towards her.

The arms thrown around her waist almost knock the wind out of her, but the tears sting her eyes because—

"Billy, Tommy," Wanda trembles.

"Mom, mom! Did you make the cookies?"

"Are they done?"

"Can we have ice cream with it right now?"

Wanda needs to swallow down the overwhelming emotion that knots in her throat before she can answer.

Of course, Wanda thought. Where she was most loved—it'd be where her boys were. Whatever had occurred in this universe to cause Wanda to not be the happiest—it didn't matter because her boys were here, and as long as they were here, she could be the most loved.

"Sur—"

"Wanda Maximoff, you better not be giving in and spoiling the boys' appetite before dinner."

The new voice makes Wanda freeze. It's not familiar, raising Wanda's hackles as she holds the boys closer to her. She looks to the door again, and when you come through...Wanda's at a loss for words.

There's no universe where she's seen you.

You're struggling to hold all the grocery bags in your arms as you peer over to the trio.

"Did you boys just abandon me with all the bags for cookies?" You cock your brows at them, meant to look displeased, but Wanda and the boys could see the tiny smirk of amusement on your lips.

The boys giggle before they move out of Wanda's hold towards you. There's a moment where Wanda wants to grab them back to her again, but when she sees them running towards you and taking some of the bags to lessen your load, Wanda can't help but stare.

"Sorry, mum," Billy gives you a boyish smile, trying to take another bag from you to help.

"But we could smell the cookies from outside!" Tommy cackles but still helps you out as well.

Wanda feels her heart stop.

Mum?

The boys were referring to you as mum?

How could you be—

Now that one of your hands is free, Wanda watches as you ruffle the boys' hair one at a time before kissing the crown of their head.

"I'll forgive this once because I know mom's cookies are the best in the world and if I had been faster...I would've left you two in the dust," you start laughing as the boy screams indignations with squealing laughter.

You're still laughing as the three of you make it back to the kitchen, placing all the bags on the counter.

"Why don't you two run up and finish your homework? We'll give you a call when dinner is ready." You look at the boys.

"But the cookies—"

"—Are for after dinner," you cut them off with a look that has the boys sighing as they look at each other and give you and Wanda a kiss on the cheek before running off.

Anxiety fills Wanda the second she's alone with you. It makes her want to raise her hands, preparing to fight you because who could you be that would make you mum to her boys? Who were you to intrude in on her happiness and the world where she was most loved?

Was this a universe where Vision existed and they divorced? Were you their stepmother?

You turn your face to her, and Wanda's hackles rise like the hair on the back of her neck. You reach out, grabbing her apron and pulling her towards you. Wanda's about to unleash the full force of her magic on you but is stopped short when she feels warm lips against her own.

It's hot—needy and desperate almost.

Her hand falls against your shoulder and grips at your shirt, and the kiss is broken.

"Hi, darling," you pant just mere inches away from her lips. "I really, really like when you look like this."

The way you say it almost sounds like a whine, and Wanda's lip twitches at it.

"Oh?" is the only thing Wanda can say.

You hum, peppering kisses against her jaw and down her neck, and the sensation is almost too overwhelming. On the one hand, this body feels accustomed to the physical affections, but Wanda is not.

"I missed you all day," you sigh. "Can't believe you're just being all pretty here all the time and I miss hours of it. Should I work from home tomorrow?"

Wanda swallows. Your lips keep peppering kisses, and Wanda almost has whiplash how the needy kisses turn into tender ones, brushing over the tip of her nose and eyelids.

Something hot stings behind Wanda's eyes.

"Can you?" Wanda manages to say. She doesn't know what to say otherwise. It's daunting to know she knows nothing about her life here—she knows nothing about you.

"I don't have any meetings tomorrow," you stand straighter, your eyes drifting up in thought. "Maybe I should take the day off," you muse. "It's been a while since we did something fun with just the two of us."

Wanda doesn't know what to say. She just looks at you, wary and confused. You don't seem to notice her expression too much, taking her silence as agreement to what you suggested.

You turn to look through the groceries. "What do you want to eat for dinner tonight? I bought a variety of things since you said you weren't sure what you're craving."

Wanda weighs her options and choices. She needs to integrate herself into this life and ensure you don't suspect anything.

"Is there something you're craving?" Wanda asks you in a friendly tone.

You hum slowly in thought. "Oh, how about those meatballs you made last month? Those were so good, I've been dreaming about them." You start to put away the groceries other than what ingredients you'll need. You mull over what sides to have.

You're mumbling about what's easier to make, and it becomes clear to Wanda you'll be staying to cook with her, and although it's foreign, Wanda finds it endearing.

Once you finish deciding, you turn to smile impishly at her, and Wanda quirks her brow at it. Despite not knowing you, she somehow feels like she knows that look on you.

"Want to split a cookie? We have to be super quiet, though. I'm pretty sure the boys have a secret power of knowing when we're eating cookies without them."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It becomes clear throughout the evening that while, yes, her boys love her, they're not the reason why this variant of Wanda is the most loved in the universe.

It's you—you're the reason.

The evening puts Wanda on edge for different reasons. She looks at the ring on her left hand, trying to not fiddle with it again. You helped her put it back on when the two of you were done cooking, seemingly knowing where she always placed it.

She was married, Wanda deliberated, to a woman. It was odd, Wanda had never considered it, but she found that she was at ease with it.

You make her laugh, you look at her with so much love, and Wanda feels suffocated by it. She feels smothered in every way she has ever wanted to be, and she could drown in your love and the way you look at her and the boys.

They're not yours; it's obvious. You've stepped up into a role you never had to, yet you did. For her, yes, but because you love the two boys as if they're your own.

You always find a way to touch her, as if you can't be close enough. It's your legs pressed against hers underneath the table, almost tangled together. It's your hand on top of hers at the diner table or on her thigh.

It's all subconscious, Wanda knows. She knows because she looks into your head on a surface level. Things float about and tease deep inside, and Wanda must refrain from breaking into your mind piece by piece. There'd be time for that later.

"Alright, what should we do tonight? Movies? Games?" You ask as you gather the plates with Tommy to place into the dishwasher. Wanda's eyes trail after you, staring at your form in scrutiny before Billy tugs at her arm.

"What do you want to do, mom?" He asks her, and Wanda knows he's asking her because he can tell she's been out of sorts, and it makes her heart swell.

"Oh, anything you want to do, sweetheart," Wanda wraps her arm around Billy, placing his head against her collarbone as she strokes his hair and kisses his forehead.

"Movie!" Tommy is screaming from the kitchen as he runs back in with you trailing behind with the cookies and ice cream.

"Do you mind grabbing plates, darling?" You ask Wanda, kissing the crown of her head as you pass by her and set the things down in your arms.

Wanda is about to get up, but you place your hand on her arm.

"Use your powers," you tilt your head in confusion as to why she was getting up.

Wanda is surprised you so openly encourage her to use her powers, but she likes it. Four plates float from the kitchen to the dining table and set themselves down gently.

"Alright, how many cookie ice cream sandwiches do we want?" You look at the boys.

"Ten!" The boys shout simultaneously as they look at each other, smiling.

You snort, and Wanda finds herself laughing.

"Ambitious," you smirk, "but let's start with two and go from there."

"Mom," Tommy whines as he looks at Wanda like he knows she'll be more likely to cave in. "Tell mum to make it three."

The look Tommy gives her makes Wanda tender. This is everything she wanted, this was everything she deserved, and she'd do anything for her boys.

Wanda looks at you and shrugs. "It can't hurt to have one more."

You point the ice cream scoop at her but grab more cookies. "When either the ice cream melts by the time they get to the third one, or they get too full, you will regret this, Maximoff."

You're still grinning, and the boys are chatting animatedly, and Wanda is surprised to find she wants this moment to last, even with you in it.

The boys grab their plates and take off carefully to the sofa and begin looking for a movie to watch. You diligently make a cookie ice cream sandwich for Wanda.

"Let's go," you say as you pass her the dessert.

"Not going to make yourself one?" Wanda asked as you went to put the ice cream back in the freezer.

You return, pecking her quickly on the lips, and then promptly take a bite out of the dessert you just made Wanda.

"Someone's going to have to eat the third one the boys won't finish," you say after chewing.

"And if they finish it?" Wanda challenges.

You grin at her innocently. "If it seems like they're on track to eating the third one, I'll share with my generous wife."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The boys don't finish the third ice cream cookie sandwich as you predicted, and you look entirely too smug at her when you're eating the soggy dessert. Of course, you generously shared the dessert with Wanda, who tried to refuse, but it was futile.

The night was peaceful, and Wanda almost hadn't wanted it to end. You spent the evening curled into her, almost purring as she ran her fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp. You fit perfectly against her, warm and alive.

Wanda doesn't know what to think, and she merely goes with the flow, keeping you close as you clearly so want. She strokes the softness of the skin of your arm while you play with the fingers of her other hand.

When you do this, Wanda can't help but think about how you don't know. You don't know her corrupted fingers, blackened by the results of her desperation to be happy.

"I think it's time for bed, boys," you say suddenly, and Wanda looks over to find the boys half-falling asleep on the couch.

"No, I'm not sleepy," Tommy argues, trying to open his eyes, but they stay half-lidded.

Billy doesn't seem to agree but doesn't speak up either, curling into Wanda's side.

"Bedtime, Tommy," Wanda gives him a look to which he frowns but agrees as he gets up with Billy, and they make their way upstairs.

"I'm going to clean up," you tell Wanda.

"Do you want help?" She offers, but you shake your head.

"No, why don't you start tucking the boys in and I'll be there soon?"

Wanda nods, hesitating for a moment before she leans over and kisses the corner of your mouth, and walks off. She can hear the sounds of dishes clanking as she makes her way up the stairs. Taking her time, she looks around. The hallway is filled with photos of you and her together, and there were photos of all four of them.

But one particular photo made her pause, heart dropping into her stomach as she stared at it.

A photo with Vision with the kids.

Vision—he was in this universe as well? Had he died? She stares at the photo, finding that the kids don't look much younger—a year at the most.

Wanda stands at the photo longer than she thinks until she can hear someone calling her.

"Mom?"

It's Billy and Tommy, stepping out of the washroom as they've finished brushing their teeth.

"Hey, all ready for bed?" Wanda smiles at them, and they nod. She follows them to their room as they both jump into their bed, only a couple of feet away from each other.

The scene is all too familiar, and her chest aches. She tucks them in, kissing each of their foreheads as she sits on the edge of Tommy's bed. At this point, you enter the room.

Tommy smiles at you as you grin back at him, walking over to him and kissing his forehead. He rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything.

You then walk over to Billy's bed, sitting on the edge and kissing his forehead.

"Did you have fun tonight?" You ask softly, and the boys nod. "And you finished your homework?"

The boys roll their eyes in union but nod nonetheless.

"Angels, the lot of you are," you tease, and they giggle.

"Goodnight," you and Wanda bid. "See you in the morning."

"Goodnight," they say together.

"Love you," Billy says sleepily as his eyes close, and Tommy mumbles something similar.

With that, you stand up, holding your hand out for Wanda. She looks at her kids one more time, chanting to herself that she will see them in the morning, that this isn't a dream and she won't wake to the nightmare.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Were you okay today?" You ask softly. "You were kind of quiet."

The two of you were lying in bed together. You have curled into Wanda again. Your face rested against her chest, arm around her as you rubbed her back.

It's soothing, Wanda thought. It almost made her bitter that she hadn't felt like this in a long time.

Wanda felt you shift and looked down to see you peering up at her.

"Of course," Wanda reassures you. "Am I always so rambunctious?"

"Sometimes," you grin, teasing her, and Wanda pinches your side, making you try to wriggle away from her. She holds you tighter, preventing you from moving too far away from her.

When things settle down, and you wriggle to move back close against her, Wanda stares at you pensively.

"Do you love me?" She asks.

The question surprises you as you look back up at her. You study her face as if you were looking for answers.

"You haven't asked that since just before our wedding," you comment and that surprises Wanda. Because, at the very least, she knows the two of you have been married for a couple of years.

This variant of her was so sure you loved her that she hadn't questioned it for years?

It was almost laughable to Wanda. Something jealous brews inside her, simmering just beneath the surface.

Wanda doesn't say anything, and she thinks you might not either, or you'll say something so predictable and empty like, "of course I do."

But you simply press your face into her chest, reaching to grab her hand and drag it to your cheek.

"Look," you tell her, and Wanda freezes.

Privacy was always an issue for the people around Wanda. They always worried about whether or not she was listening to them, even if unintentionally.

Now with how her powers had grown, it was a given that people automatically assumed she was breaking into your head. Don't get it wrong, Wanda had. Anything to get the results she wanted, she broke every unspoken rule to get it.

But here you were, freely offering Wanda access. Here you were, being vulnerable to her with all the trust.

And Wanda didn't hesitate.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You sleep soundly on your side with your back facing Wanda, and she stares at the back of your head.

She should kill you, Wanda thinks, make it look like an accident.

The boys would be sad, but she could help them get it over time, couldn't she?

Seeing into your mind was too much. It was too much to see how lucky this variant of this Wanda was. Sure, she had lost many people to Thanos. She had even lost Vision last year to another villain threatening earth.

But the loss only makes Wanda laugh bitterly because she had already split with Vision years prior, agreeing to amicable joint custody with the boys.

All because she fell in love with you.

But could she blame this variant? Wanda watched everything play like a long sitcom about how you loved her.

This variant had been as miserable as she, had lost just as much as Wanda had, but she had you.

It was unfair, Wanda thought distantly. Why had you not been in her universe? Or if you were, why did they not meet? Why was she once again the only Wanda to be alone?

This variant loved you tenderly—desperately. She kissed and made love to you like you'd break if she was too rough.

And Wanda hates that variant for it. To love something so much that she was capable of treasuring it.

Wanda scoots closer to you, pressing against you as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you flush against her. She presses a kiss against your shoulder and bites into it.

You whimper.

Wanda resolves that all of this is hers now.

This life, the boys, and you.

Everything belongs to her.

And the first thing Wanda wants to know is if you will break if she's too rough.

Wanda's hand slides against your thigh, gripping the inner of it roughly before she moves back up and yanks your panties down.

The sharpness of her touch wakes you.

"Wanda?" Your voice is groggy as you startle. "What are you doing?"

"Touching you," Wanda replies simply, her hand slipping between your folds, rubbing your length slowly, stroking your clit in circles when she comes up.

You moan lowly, your hips moving with her hand as she sucks and nips at your neck. It isn't long until Wanda's fingers are slick from you.

"You got so wet quickly, miláčik," Wanda husks in your ear. "You must want me to fuck you badly."

Your breath hitches at the way Wanda talks to you. The two of you engage in dirty talk often, but not like this.

Wanda guides your leg over her hip before she resumes stroking your pussy until you're dripping and thrusting your hips desperately against her fingers for more.

Wanda's other hand is under you, wrapped around your torso and underneath your shirt as she gropes your chest roughly. Her index finger rolls your hardened nipple back and forth, and she can hear your labored breathing.

Your neck is littered with hickeys, dark and bruising. Wanda isn't even close to being done with you, and you look so ruined already. Wanda wants to see you completely undone. She wants to break you down to nothing so she can build you back up to be hers.

"Wanda..." you keen, gripping the bed sheet on the side, trying to not cry at how bad you want more. Something feels different, but you can't put your finger on it. Honestly, you could barely even think about it with how your body was trembling.

"Use your words, miláčik," Wanda bites at your earlobe. "Tell me what you want—how ready your body is."

You feel close already with how diligent Wanda had been paying attention to your clit, but you just want—

"Please, please, please," you barely get out. "I want you inside, I wanna feel you...I want to cum."

Wanda mutters about how you're such a good girl and thrusts three fingers inside you until she's all the way in, stroking your walls.

"Oh, fuck, yes," you moan, gripping the bedsheets tighter as your leg tenses against Wanda's hip.

How you feel on Wanda's fingers has her biting your shoulder again, almost hard enough to leave imprints. You whimper at the pain, but Wanda doesn't let up.

Her other hand abandons your chest and moves out of your shirt up to your neck, grasping it. You feel so delicate against her, and Wanda almost understands why this variant was adamant about being gentle.

"Wanda—" you say, almost a little alarmed, but Wanda hushes you.

"You're gonna cum just like this," she hisses in your ear, squeezing your throat a little tighter. She licks the shell of your ear, and her voice is throaty when she says, "I missed you, too. You wouldn't even believe how long I've been waiting for you."

Wanda can feel herself dripping for you, but she wants to feel you come over her fingers. She keeps her thrusts inside you, curling her fingers as she strokes that spot inside you that makes you tremble.

"Wanda—"

"Go on and cum, miláčik," Wanda moves her fingers a little faster, keeping the pressure steady as it finally mounts over, and you come with a long groan.

You feel lightheaded and exhausted as Wanda strokes you through the remnants of the hardest orgasm you've ever had.

Going limp against her body, Wanda releases your throat as she pulls her fingers out of you, earning a hum from you. She sucks the mess you made on her fingers, licking the length of her fingers one by one.

You're panting, trying to regain control of your breathing, and Wanda moves and pushes you to lie on your back. She grips the end of your t-shirt, dragging it up and over your head. She stares at your naked form unabashed, appreciating it for a moment before completely undressing herself.

Wanda adjusts her body over yours, legs straddling your thigh. You feel Wanda lower herself, her wetness spreading over your thigh as she rides it slowly.

The low guttural moan Wanda lets out sparks something in your stomach. She looks at you, her eyes glowing red for just a moment.

"It's good you're taking the day off tomorrow."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Just like that," Wanda moans, grinding her hips more firmly.

Your hair is gripped tightly, hair threading through Wanda's fingers as she uses it as leverage to thrust her hips into your face. Wanda looks down, only able to see a little less than half your face as she's sitting on it while you eat her out.

Your hands are hooked over Wanda's thigh, securing and occasionally massaging her thighs and hips. Your tongue dips inside her, and Wanda grunts. Her thighs tighten around your head.

Wanda allows you to drag it out a little longer before she pulls at your hair in a warning, and you quickly fasten your lips around her clit, sucking and keeping the pressure steady until Wanda lets out a high keen, thrusting her hips with reckless abandon as she comes messily over your face.

You don't complain about how she might be suffocating you, and when Wanda slows her hips, coming down from her high, she looks to the side. The curtains are still closed, but she can tell it's nearing noon.

Wanda had woken up early to drop the kids off at school while you slept on obliviously. When she came back, she only let you sleep a little longer before waking you by peppering kisses up and down your neck, pressing her body into yours as she lay on top of you.

Wanda's been working your body since, and she's lost count of how many times she's made you orgasm. Similarly, she's lost count for herself as well.

Climbing off your face carefully, she watches you use your fingers to clean your face, licking her slick off your fingers. The sight of you exhausted but clearly having enjoyed yourself has Wanda leaving more hickeys down your body. You're littered with them, all marked up by her, and she revels in it.

"Wanda..." you whine, trying to move your body away, but she holds you still. "I can't anymore."

But Wanda doesn't listen, kissing her way up your body until she's face to face with you. She captures your lips in a messy kiss, licking the inside of your mouth and the teeth pulling at your bottom lip. She can taste herself with the taste of you, and it's all Wanda wants.

"One more," Wanda tells you, caressing your arms until she reaches your hands, pushes them against the mattress, and holds them down.

"Wanda, I really can't—" you shake your head. "We've been going at it for hours...I'm too sensitive now."

"Feels better that way," Wanda mutters, barely even listening to you. Her body feels addicted to you. Everything in her tells her to take it, to make you give everything to her. You're hers now; you're always going to be hers.

You try to reason with Wanda, unsure what's gotten into her. The last time the two of you had this much sex was around the time you were on your honeymoon.

But even then, whatever was happening now was different. Wanda was always a little desperate. It was just who she was after everything she's experienced. As desperate as she was, though, Wanda was also always careful.

That carefulness seemed to fly out of the window since last night. Wanda was fucking you with reckless abandon, determined to take everything and more.

You feel a pressure between your legs, something thick and slick pressing into you. Wanda groans, her forehead dropping against yours. You look down, but the only thing you catch is something red attached to Wanda disappearing into you.

"Wanda—" your breath hitches, feeling the stretch as Wanda moves inside you. "Oh, god, Wanda, it's too much," your hands strain against Wanda's as she laces them together, bringing them over your head and pinned down.

"Just perfect," Wanda mutters, and you can feel her lips ghosting yours. "Feels good, feels so fucking good inside you."

You know then that Wanda used her power to create some kind of strap-on connected to the nerves of her clit. You can feel Wanda's hardened nipples rubbing over yours as she thrusts slowly into you.

When she's all the way in, Wanda pauses, taking a deep breath. You were trembling from how sensitive you felt; it was on the edge of being painful.

But then Wanda moves, and you let out a string of incoherent pleas. She barely moves out before she's thrusting back in. She strokes the same spot inside you over and over until tears run down your face.

"One more," Wanda breathes into your mouth. "One more, give me just one more."

"I can't—" you huff.

"Yes, you can," Wanda cuts you off. Her thrusts get harder but remain the same on moving slightly out before thrusting relentlessly back in. The rough sensation brings you closer and closer to the edge, and Wanda can feel you pulsating as you get near your end.

She drops your hand, and they immediately go to her back, your nails dragging down. Your roughness makes her moan, and Wanda sinks her head into your neck.

"Fuck, I want to come inside you," Wanda mutters. She wants to coat the inside of you. She wants to own you in there too. Wanda wants it all. "I think you'd like that, wouldn't you, miláčik?"

You don't answer, and Wanda grips your face as she lifts her head to stare down at you. Her thrusts are getting messy as you are nearing the climax.

"Wouldn't you like it?" Wanda asks you again, more roughly this time. "Tell me you want me inside you like that right now, miláčik."

It's like an unspoken threat that if you don't, Wanda won't let you off until you do.

"Yes," you immediately whimper. "Yes, yes, I want you to come inside me."

Wanda looks satisfied as she brings her thumb to stroke your clit until she's roughly ripping your last orgasm out of your over-wrought body.

The moan you let out is soundless as Wanda groans in the back of her throat, and you feel something warm gush inside you. The thrusting doesn't stop as Wanda rides out the waves until you stop pulsating around her.

Your chest heaves just as hers does, trying to calm your breathing. You pray that Wanda finally takes mercy on you and keeps her promise that it was just one more.

You feel the strap-on disappearing until it's just Wanda resting between your legs. She kisses you softly now, and you almost breathe loudly in relief as you return her tender kisses with your own.

Despite how rough Wanda treated you, your gentle kisses are what sways her completely into you. Gentle, rough—you truly love Wanda as she is.

"I love you," Wanda mumbles against your lips. "Always love me."

You stroke her head, finally regaining your breath.

"Have I ever not?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next few weeks for Wanda are complete bliss. Even though you're somewhat wary around her, you still touch her the same.

This life was perfect, Wanda knows. This was the wonderful little family Wanda had ever wanted.

Weekdays are filled with domestic heaven, while the weekends are filled with various activities.

Wanda wants this forever, which is why the headaches and glitches she's been experiencing as of late are concerning.

The spell isn't fully complete, and Wanda curses that she should've fought harder to kill America when she had the chance. They were looking for her, Wanda was sure, and they were getting closer.

On top of that, she could feel her variant fighting to break loose.

'Get out,' Wanda could hear her variant in her head. 'Get out! This isn't yours. None of this is! She isn't yours.'

'She's mine and I would never hurt her or the boys,' Wanda would repeatedly say to temper down her variant.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Wanda snaps her head to look at you, unaware you had approached her.

"Yes," Wanda nods. "Just a headache."

You place your hand over her forehead and frown. "You are a little warm. Maybe you should go lie down. I can finish cleaning and cook tonight."

Wanda nods, and you peck her lips as she makes her way up to her bedroom and locks the door shut. All alone now, her hands returned to their true state, darkened fingers as if decaying. Wanda conjures The Darkhold, flipping through the pages.

There had to be a solution to stay here forever.

There had to be something to keep Strange and America away from her.

But before Wanda can search deeper, she hears wreckage downstairs and your scream.

Wanda immediately transports herself downstairs using her magic and is enraged at the sight.

They found her.

Strange and America stood in her living room with a portal open, posing to fight her when they saw her.

"Wanda, you need to stop this," Strange tries to reason with her again, but she tilts her head at him with a condescending smile.

"Stop what? Living my life here? You're the one intruding, and you need to leave. I'm past mercy, Strange."

"This isn't your life!" Strange yells at her. "Let the variant of you go."

"Silence!" Wanda yells at him.

"Oh? Scared your girlfriend's going to find out?" America said with bravado, but Wanda can see her wariness underneath as she eyes you from the side.

You were cautious but silent.

Wanda begins to conjure the red wisps in her hand. "She's my wife." Thrusting her hands out, she releases her magic, and a fight ensues.

Strange is still trying to reason with her, but Wanda doesn't want to hear it anymore.

"You were a fool to bring the girl here," Wanda sneers at him when she gains the upper hand and has Strange subdued and America in her grasp.

The young girl is choking in Wanda's grip, and she sees it as a chance to finally get the power she needs to make this universe hers permanently.

"Wanda, stop!"

The voice makes Wanda freeze. She turns her head and finds you staring at her with a horrified expression.

The look of absolute fear makes Wanda feel like she's been punched in the gut.

"What are you doing?" You urge her. "Let her go, she's a kid!"

"No, no, no," Wanda tells you softly, trying to show you that she'd never hurt you. "She's a threat—to me, to you, to us and our life."

"This isn't your life," America chokes before she looks at you. "This isn't your Wanda!"

"Be QUIET," Wanda snarls at America, tightening her grip that makes America choke.

"Wanda, stop it!" You yell at her, your eyes welling up with tears. "You're hurting people!"

The words make Wanda feel like she's crumbling. She drops America, letting the girl fall onto the floor on her back, hearing the wind knock out of the young girl's lungs.

Wanda looks at you; betrayal is written all over her face.

"Why are you treating me like I'm the villain?" Wanda whispers, her eyes becoming hot with tears. "You said you loved me. How can you love me and think I hurt people?"

You take a careful step towards her. "Look around, Wanda," you say softly.

"I would never—" But the words fall short on Wanda's lips. "I'm not a monster," is all she can say quietly as she drops to her knees.

"I know you're not," you say softly as you kneel in front of her and cup her face gently. "Just like I know you're not my Wanda."

Wanda immediately looks into your eyes, surprised.

You give her a wry smile. "You think I don't know my own wife? I've known since the first night."

"When—"

"When you asked if I loved you and I let you look into my mind," you give her a sad smile. "My Wanda never takes the opportunity. She is adamant about never looking into my mind and I never offer because of it. She prefers talking honestly, even if it's harder and painful."

Wanda's crying, tears welling and overflowing freely.

"Then why—" Wanda sobs.

"Wanda had her own theories about the multiverse. She was always worried it would happen, but I think every version of her should be loved."

You wiped her tears, but new ones would just fall. "You seemed sad," you tell her truthfully. "Even though I knew it wouldn't be forever by me, I wanted you to know you are loved too."

Wanda's face contorts in pain, lips trembling as she shakes her head.

"You're not a monster," you tell her again sternly. "You're a person who has done bad things out of grief but that doesn't always make you a bad person."

Wanda feels you kiss her cheek, and it's bitter.

"Do the right thing, Wanda," you encourage her. "It's time to go home."

"Is it home if you're not there?" Wanda tries to refute, and you give her a look.

"Am I dead?"

"...I don't know."

"Then look for me there," you drop your hands and move to hold Wanda's. "That variant of me might be waiting for you too."

It's silent for a moment, and America stands in the background, unsure, with Strange beside her.

"We'll be okay, Wanda," you tell her softly. "We are loved, and you will be too."

Wanda looks at you one last time before releasing the body she's held hostage, and America closes the portal to this universe.

The scene of the home she's grown used to fades into her lonely throne. It's like a hole has grown in her chest, connecting all the missing parts of her until she's empty.

America and Strange stand in the distance, unsure what their next move is if they have to continue fighting her.

"You need to leave," Wanda calmly states.

"What?"

"I opened The Darkhold, and I'm the one who needs to close it so it can never tempt anyone again," Wanda stares at her blackened fingertips. "You need to leave because this place is going to collapse."

As if on cue, the temple began shaking and crumbling. Debris fell from the ceiling, and Strange and America looked at Wanda, who didn't spare them a glance.

"I'm sorry, Wanda," Strange apologizes, and she knows it's for losing what was never hers in the beginning. With that, he takes America and flies off with her.

The temple crumbles, and Wanda doesn't move, determined to see its end. Even if you can't witness it, she wants to prove to you that she is a good person.

Wanda lets out a tiny smile, knowing that you probably believed she already followed through.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

-A Year and 6 months later-

Wanda sips her coffee, breathing in the fresh air. She looks down at her hair and finds it strange to see brown instead of auburn. It's been too long since she's seen the real color of her hair, and she wonders if it looks good.

The day is bright and sunny, and Wanda revels in how the sun feels on her skin.

"Would you like another one?"

Wanda looks at the waitress with a smile and shakes her head. She's here every day and usually has two cups leisurely.

But not today.

"No, thank you," Wanda answers politely and pulls out some cash, giving her usual waitress a generous tip.

The waitress thanks her and leaves. Wanda stays a second longer, waiting and taking in the view.

There's a loud car door slamming, and a woman gets out and moves to the sidewalk.

"For the last time," an exasperated voice groans. "It's over! How many times do I have to say it? Stop following me! You can’t just show up here because you know I walk through here every day."

"How can it be over? Everything has been going well for the last year! What changed?"

Wanda watches you groan.

"I don't know! I just don't see a future with you," you tap your foot impatiently. "Now stop following me around, I have shit to do and you're constantly making me late. Just—stop."

You turn to leave, but the woman grabs your arm, and Wanda stands up, pulling her hat closer to her head as she crosses the street.

Each step feels like she's getting closer to your silhouette, and the thin veil separating the two of you slowly disappears.

Wanda pushes and pushes against the veil until—

"You're hurting her."

The two of you look over to Wanda, and you stare at her for a long moment.

"Stay out of this," the woman glares at Wanda. "It's none of your business."

"It is my business," Wanda says simply. "I'm a good person."

"Are you trying to say I'm not?" The woman snaps.

"Yes, if you keep holding her arm hostage."

The woman immediately drops your arm, and you rub the spot she held, moving away.

"Leave," Wanda glares, and the woman is about to say something else, but the flash of Wanda's red eyes startles her, and she's quick to turn and walk back to her car.

The two of you watch the car drive away, and Wanda turns back to you, and you stare at her curiously.

"Have we met before?" You blink with a tilt of your head.

Wanda smiles. "Maybe in another universe."

You snort. "Smooth," you grin at her. "Thanks for that by the way."

You introduce yourself, and Wanda takes your hand.

Something electric passes through your arm, and you lick your lips.

"I'm Wanda."

You keep holding her hand, pensively looking at the woman before you.

"Can I treat you to a cookie ice cream sandwich as thanks? There's a great place nearby that does the best cookies," you gush.

Wanda nods but grins at you. "Sure, but I can make better ones."

"Really?" You look skeptical. "That's a bold statement."

"I've been told my cookies are the best in the world."

You laugh with a shake of your head as you let go of Wanda's hand and walk with her trailing beside you.

"I'll hold you to that."

4K notes View Post

nattiesangel

2 years ago

AHHHH

Just this once

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!babysitter!reader

Summary: Everyone hates you in town, everyone except for Mr. Miller, who was kind enough to hire you as his daughter's babysitter.

Warnings: mentally and verbally abusive father, angst, unreciprocated love, no happy ending. Smut| oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie

Everyone hated you in this town.

Kids at school, moms, dads, even grandparents sometimes.

People crossed the street when they saw you, they waited until you turned around to whisper and scorn to the person beside them.

Everywhere you went, followed dirty looks and rude remarks.

In the hallways at school, at the drug store, pharmacy, park, you name it.

Everywhere, everyone seemed to despise old Carl's daughter just for being born, or maybe, maybe also because of the rumors that spread about her.

Like the one where you dealt drugs, which was not not the truth... but you never dealt meth.

Or the one where you'd fucked half the guys in town,

And least but not last, the one where you were the reason you poor pops had turned to alcohol.

Except they didn't know anything. they didn't know that your "poor pops" had begun his diet of a bottle of whiskey a day long before you were born, that he drove your mom mad to the point where she had fled without so much as a goodbye, leaving behind a few clothes and a stupid scrap of paper where she had written a fucking lie.

I love you

If she had actually loved you, she wouldn't have left.

And they didn't know that all the anger your father had, had turned to you, they didn't know how scary it was, to be afraid of your own father, to be alone at the age of thirteen, to have to take care of yourself, to have to grow up faster than you should.

They all hated you, and you didn't care, you swore you didn't care, because they didn't know, they didn't know shit.

But Mr. Miller was different.

He was the only person, together with his daughter, who had ever shown you kindness, the real kind.

He had seen you sobbing as you ran from your house after your dad had another one of his "episodes".

And god, you were so confused when he stopped you, when he put a hand on your shoulder and asked if everything was alright.

And you didn't tell him then, you didn't tell him everything that was going on and that your dad was an asshole and that your life was hell, you couldn't, there was always this everlasting shame fizzing underneath your skin whenever you felt the need to share. But he hadn't cared, he hadn't cared that you had told him nothing, he hadn't cared that all you did was say sorry and I need to go, because with just a glance it felt like he had seen right through you.

So then he'd told you where he lived, and even if that time he couldn't convince you to come in, it was you who showed up at his doorsteps two nights after, asking for a place to sleep which he offered without so much as a question.

And it was only a week later when you told him everything.

He had sat and listened as you cried and cried, he had stroked your hair and given you tissues, until finally, he offered you a job.

Babysitting his kid.

And you were scared at first, you weren't really equipped for the job, but the moment you met Sarah you realized just how easy it was gonna be.

taking care of her was fun, and it gave you an excuse to be away from your own home, sometimes even at night when the mere thought of seeing your father made you want to puke.

And Mr. Miller was always nice, he made breakfast, overpaid you like crazy, and he listened, he was always there to listen.

"dad, what are you talking about?"

Mr. Miller's backyard was always perfectly mowed, and the treehouse he'd built his daughter stood high on the oak in the middle of it.

"I said-" even if you couldn't see him, you swore he was taking another gulp straight from the bottle " Where the fuck are you?"

"I'm working dad, I told you" you said, trying to remain as calm as possible.

"You working?" he laughed "That's funny" he said, as his laugh turned into a disgusting cough "Tell me where you really are." his voice was slurry, but the anger in it still made you shiver "You at one of your boyfriends' houses?"

"No Dad, I'm at Mr. Miller's house" you sighed, it was sad really, how used you were to this by now.

"Mr. Miller huh?" a hiccup sounded through the phone "You fucking him too? You started going for older guys? Is that it? I bet that's it you little slut" he hissed "Your mother would be so disappointed... to see her only daughter grow up to be such a fucking whore"

There's a difference, when it's strangers calling you names, and when it's your own father.

You'd always wished his words didn't affect you, but somehow, they always found a way to hurt.

No matter how tough you made yourself to be, when it was him, you felt like a kid all over again.

"fuck you" you muttered, as tears pricked your eyes

"Is that how you talk to your father you little bitch? Just wait till you come home, I'll see what you'll have to say then-"

And there were so many things you wanted to tell him, to scream at him, to drill into his non-existing brain, but all you did was press the red button and hung up.

And it took about a second before the tears started flowing like rivers.

You ran back inside the house, forgetting all about closing the glass door as you curled into a ball on the couch, trying to cry as silently as you could, so that Sarah wouldn't wake up.

You hated him. You hated everything, you just wanted to run away and start a new life somewhere else, Canada, Austria, even the fucking north pole sounded better than this.

You were just so tired, so exhausted. Every time you talked to your father all the energy you had, or thought you had left, got drained from your body, and for hours, you remained lifeless,

The only exception was when-

The front door opened, and those purposely quiet footsteps that you would have recognized anywhere, followed soon after.

Him, the only exception was when he was there to comfort you.

You sat up, quickly wiping your tears to try and look somewhat presentable.

"hey," he whispered, entering the living room "Sarah's asleep?"

"mh-mh, yes" you nodded

"I'm sorry I came home this late, it's just that the guys wanted to go out after work and I always tell them no..." he trailed off, as he sat next to you and got rid of his overused boots.

"I-It's not a problem, Mr. Miller"

He shook his head, smiling in that charming way of his as he sat his shoes next to the coffee table and turned to look at you.

"How many times have I told you that you can just call me J-"

But his words died in his throat the moment he caught a glimpse of your red, puffy eyes, (that he'd come to know too well) and of that look on your face.

"What happened?"

They were such simple words, but they hit like tnt too close to a dam, breaking the barrier and causing all the water to run out.

His arms were around you the moment the first tear fell.

"shh" he cooed, stroking your back as you sobbed into his chest "It's alright, everythin's alright, sweetheart"

You wrapped your arms around his broad torso, feeling all his muscles underneath the fabric as you drowned in his scent. He always smelt so manly and so... good.

"I-I'm sorry it's just" A sob climbed up your throat "He-he called and I-I" You never finished the sentence as other tears started flowing from your eyes.

"I'm sorry honey" he cooed, placing his cheek on top of your head"it's ok" he murmured "It's all gonna be fine, I promise"

"w-when?" you cried, finally looking up at him "I'm so tired of this Mr. Miller..."

"soon" he promised "You're a smart girl, you'll get far in life sweetheart, I just know it"

you breathed heavily into his chest for a few minutes, listening to his heart beat as you calmed your own.

"t-thank you" you sniffled

"of course, darlin'"

And as you glanced at him, at his soft beard, at his kind eyes, your brain short-circuited and your mouth got a mind of its own, and before you realized it, your lips were on his.

And god he felt so good

"y/n-" he spoke as you tried to deepen the kiss "What are you doing?"

"I just-" you stuttered, not able to tear your glaze off his soft lips "please" you murmured, not knowing what else to say as you leaned up to kiss him again,

"sweetheart this ain't right I-"

"please Mr. Miller" you begged, placing your hand on his shoulder and pecs, as you left a quick kiss on his lips again "please just this once"

"y/n..." he tried to speak but was interrupted by your mouth finding his neck.

"please" you repeated for the thousandth time, your breath fanning over his neck "just this one time"

"darlin'... I don't know if this is a good idea"

"it is" you quickly corrected him, your kisses lowering down his body, until all you could do was shuffle off the couch to get between his parted legs "it's a really good idea"

You saw him swallow thickly at the sight before him

"no sweetheart, you don't gotta do that"

"I want to" you reassured him, hurriedly undoing his belt and zipper until his black boxers were all that obstructed your view.

You palmed his manhood through the fabric, feeling it harden underneath your palm, before you gently took it out, looking up at him for approval as you wrapped one hand around it and let your lips follow suit.

A loud shuddering breath fled his mouth as you fitted more and more of him into your mouth, and you took it as an incentive to get lower, fully choking on his cock.

"f-fuck" he groaned

You started bobbing your head up and down, your eyes never leaving the sight of him breathing heavily before you.

You were doing good, but you wanted to do amazing for Mr. Miller, so you gingerly took his cock out of your mouth to start a slow trail of kisses and kitty lips down the whole length of him, until you reached his balls, and without a second thought, reserved them of the same treatment, before starting to suck on those too.

"fuck. me." he breathed, throwing his head back as he shut his eyes.

You leaned away for a moment, still pumping him with your hand "Does it feel good?" you asked

"fuck-yeah sweetheart" he gulped, looking down at you "it feels real fucking good- you're-fuck-you're amazing"

The biggest smile ever spread on your face at that, and with a renewed vigor, you got back to sucking his balls even better.

series of profanities continued coming out of his mouth as you got back to his dick, letting your tongue run on his tip for a few moments before getting back to filling your mouth with it.

You watched his hands curl by his sides, and without thinking, you let one of your own travel to his, softly placing your palm over it in a makeshift hold, which wasn't really a hold because he didn't turn his hand to do it properly.

But it didn't matter now, he was enjoying this, something you were doing for him, something you had dreamed of doing to him times and times again, and that's all you cared about.

You bobbed your head for a few more moments before you leaned away and quickly got up to get rid of your pants.

He watched you, too fucked out and torn with guilt and confusion to understand anything anymore, step out of your panties, place your hands on his shoulders, and straddle him.

you reached down for his dick, and without too much of a premise, sank down on it.

"oh god" you moaned, stopping a moment to take a deep breath at the feeling, as a low groan rumbled in his chest.

"you feel so good" you murmured, kissing him passionately as you started riding him.

His hands gripped your waist as a way for him to try and ground himself back on this earth because fuck but, you felt fucking good too

"touch my tits please" you said, ghosting his mouth.

"Sweetheart..."

"Please, Mr. Miller" you pouted, rising and sinking from his cock even faster

"Joel- please call me Joel"

"Please Joel, touch my tits"

And who was he to say no to you when you asked him like that?

One of his big strong hands seeped underneath your top and found your boobs, stroking and grabbing at them heavenly.

You couldn't help but gasp at the mix of pleasures, your head falling to the crook of his neck.

The sound bouncing off the walls of the living room was straight out dirty and the breeze coming from the open glass door on your left softly floated through the room, at times hitting your raw skin.

"oh my god" you whimpered, muffled by Joel's skin "o-oh my"

He was filling every inch of you, stretching you so fucking good it made you want to scream if it wasn't for Sarah sleeping just upstairs.

You lost yourself in him, in his soft grunts, in his most raw scent, in the way his beard rutted against your cheek, and slowly, slowly you felt a bubble form in your belly, getting more and more ready to explode.

"F-fuck" you whined, "I-I think I'm-I'm coming"

His only response was to tighten his hold on you, before you fastened your pace, desperately chasing your high.

your breathing got even heavier as you remerged from his neck to look at him in the eyes and meet his lips with yours once again.

Kissing his was like traveling to another universe, he was just so... perfect

"Joel" you whispered, losing yourself in his hazel eyes, as the pleasure got stronger and stronger until you felt like you could barely breathe "Joel I love you"

You watched his eyes widen slightly but before he could speak your orgasm took over your body and you had to hide your head in the crook of his neck again to try not to moan too loud.

"it's ok" he murmured, placing a hand on the back of your head soothingly "It's all gonna be ok sweetheart"

You rode out your high, never stopping your movements, and by the time you had come down from it, Joel was on the verge of it.

"shit-I'm coming" he groaned "Where do you want it?"

"inside" you whispered without missing a beat

"I c-can't honey-"

"please Joel" you whimpered, starting to get overstimulated "Please fill me up, Joel"

And with that simple sentence, he was done for.

"fuck-shit. shitshitshitshit" That's all he managed to spit out, as ropes of his come filled you up to the brim, just like you wanted.

You took a moment to compose yourself, inhaling his scent one more time, before you slowly got off of him.

And as you did, the moment it was all done, a strange sensation overtook you.

you'd thought that this was all you wanted, that this was gonna make you feel better, and yet... yet you couldn't help but feel like a piece of you was missing, you couldn't help but feel emptier than you were to begin with.

As you watched him hurry to put his boxers back on, you couldn't help but think that, once again, you had managed to fuck everything up.