#bottom carol danvers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kujousgf · 10 months

Text

spoiled brat ! mdni. 18+.

pairings natasha romanoff × fem ! reader, slight carol danvers × reader

synopsis natasha can't believe you're the partner she got stuck with for the class project

content warnings college student! natasha, jealousy, mentions of violence (affectionate), alcohol, dom! top!natasha, sub!bottom!afab!reader, fingering (r receiving), reader is feminine !

wc 3.1kish

a/n: this is a repost of a fic from my old blog that i rly loved !

Natasha wouldn't say she was unimpressed when the professor started listing off the pairs for their latest project and she heard the name Y/N after her own, but she wasn't exactly happy with who her partner was either. Now, she’d never actually spoken to you before, but from what she'd heard you were the epitome of a spoiled brat.

Apparently, you're friends with Yelena’s… girlfriend? If that's what Kate was, she wasn't sure. But Yelena had told her that you and Kate make a great pair… which makes her dread the weeks to come with this project. She fakes a smile when she sees you walking over, trying not to seem so annoyed with the pairing.

But that was about two weeks ago, and after spending some time with you she can absolutely confirm that you are a brat and that you never shut up. You're such a brat, in fact, Natasha just wants to punch that pretty face of yours and have you—

“Tasha, pay attention to me.” Your whiny voice cuts through her thoughts and she blinks, looking over at you as you sit on your bed. Right, she's in your room and you're still here. “I’m trying to get some work done on the project you're supposed to be helping me with.” She says flatly, turning her head and looking at you from where she's sitting at your desk.

“You're so boring, who cares about the stupid project? Let's just go shopping or something.” You pout and Natasha curses a bit under her breath, wishes she could just shut you up for a little bit. And then she's standing up before she can stop herself and walking across the relatively large bedroom.

You grin when you see the older woman get up, “See, I knew you didn't want to do that stupid–” You're stopped mid sentence and your eyes go wide when Natasha grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks. “You've been nothing but an insufferable brat for the past two weeks and now that I'm finally getting some work done, you can't shut up for five seconds?”

Your breath catches in your throat and your cheeks heat up, and not just from the grip Natasha has on you. Has she always been this attractive? I mean, of course she has, you don't whine for just anybody's attention.

“What? Nothing to say? Are you finally going to shut up and be a good girl?” Natasha doesn't really know what she's doing, acting without thinking for sure, but her worries are pushed down when she feels a meek nod from you “Good girl.” She relaxes her grip and pats your cheek, looking down into your dazed eyes before smiling and starting to walk away.

“Wha– Where are you going?” You blink, snapping out of your dazed state when you can no longer feel the warmth from Natasha's hand on your cheek. “I’m going to work on the project, what else would I be doing? It’s due in three days, you know.” Natasha responds as if nothing happened and sits back down at the desk on the other side of the room.

“Oh.. right.” You nod, smoothing out your skirt and attempting not to seem so disappointed. You busy yourself with your phone, texting Kate and telling her to swear she won’t tell anyone about what just happened.

It’s embarrassing how Natasha is all you can think about for the next couple of days, even when Kate is talking your ear off about Yelena all you can think about is how you wish Natasha would take you on a date. Wait… You wish Natasha would take you on a date?

The realization makes the tips of your ears turn red and you almost choke on the milkshake you're drinking. You thought you were just attracted to Natasha, not interested in her romantically. And yeah, even before you got paired up for the project the older woman caught your eye, and maybe it made you a little angry when you saw some of your other classmates blatantly flirting with Natasha, but you figured that was just because you were an attention whore and wanted the attention for yourself! Not that it had anything to do with actually liking Natasha.

You groan and drop your head down onto the table dramatically. “Uh... Babe?” Your head lifts up at Kate’s words and you exhale loudly, perhaps a bit more dramatically than necessary, “I think I have a crush on Natasha.”

That is how you found herself here, at a party Yelenda was throwing in one of the skimpiest outfits you've ever worn because Kate swears she knows what Natasha likes, courtesy of asking Yelena, and ‘this will make her go crazy in the best way possible’. You've gotten a lot of attention so far this evening and none of it has been from Natasha, you're starting to think Kate was lying to you.

The short skirt barely covers your ass and all you've gotten so far were sleazy comments from the few guys that showed up to the party. Natasha barely even said hi to you when she arrived, just dismissively said she submitted the project file before walking off somewhere. You sigh, walking off to see if you can find Natasha anywhere, maybe she'll talk to you if she's cornered.

When Yelena texted her saying she had a present for her waiting at her house, the last thing Natasha expected to see was you in the shortest skirt she’s ever seen, looking like she was just begging to be bent over and—

Ah, she really shouldn’t be thinking that right now. Her favorite beer, perhaps, but not you.

She knew she would regret telling Yelena what happened, it was her fault for thinking she wouldn’t somehow meddle in things. Now, she had to avoid you for the whole night while also trying not to hurt your feelings. Great, sounds like it’ll be a fun night. And Gods, she wished she didn't care about your feelings.

It’s not like she didn’t want to see you, she did, she just didn’t know if she could control herself around you and for how long. You hadn’t seen each other since that day because Natasha just finished the rest of the project herself and put your name on it. The prof didn’t have to know Natasha did it all herself.

Right now, Natasha is standing in the kitchen talking to Yelena, beer in hand because there’s no way she’s going to make it through tonight completely sober. “Is she fucking insane?” She practically hisses, “I can practically see her ass is that. Everyone can.”

Yelena shrugs in response, “She seemed pretty excited to wear it. Maybe you should go tell her to change. Tell her it makes you jealous.” She teases, laughing at her sister who is clearly extremely infatuated with someone she previously claimed to hate.

Natasha rolls her eyes, ”Is that Kate talking to some guy over there?” She says, laughing when it immediately makes Yelena leave. She sips on the beer, leaning against the island and observing the party. Weird, she doesn’t see you anywhere.

You, in your search for Natasha, checked the main room and outside before giving up and deciding that if Natasha wanted to see you she would come find you. And about 20 minutes later you find herself making out with one of the girls from the party. Carol, you think is her name. It’s nice, but she’s just not Natasha.

This really is your worst nightmare, you can’t even kiss a pretty girl without thinking about Natasha. But maybe you could just keep going and see how it goes. Carol’s hand snakes up to caress your cheek and you immediately pull away, her hand just didn’t feel like Natasha’s, Carol's was softer and colder.

“I’m sorry–” you say, catching your breath and looking away from Carol for a moment. Your eyes go wide for a second when they immediately lock onto Natasha’s dark ones from across the room and you try to take a step back from Carol when you see Natasha walking towards you. You're quick to remember Carol had you pressed up against the wall. “I gotta go.” You squeak out, leaving behind a very confused Carol. “Call me..?” She calls out as you disappear through the backdoor.

Well, Natasha supposes the reason she couldn’t see you before is because you were hidden by Carol. She clicks her tongue at the thought of her getting to take you home, she would be making sure that doesn’t happen.

She brushes past everyone as she follows you outside, rolling her eyes when she sees your attempt to keep your skirt from flying up due to the breeze. “Y/N.” She calls out, tone stern as she watches you try to act like you hadn’t heard. She keeps walking, catching up to you enough so that she can grab your wrist and tug you back towards her. “And where do you think you’re going?”

You stumble backwards, falling into Natasha's chest. “I was just… getting a little warm in there, I needed some fresh air.” You mumble, straightening up and trying not to seem so affected by Natasha's close proximity. “Mhm?” Natasha moves her hands to rest on your exposed stomach, “I don’t know how you could get warm considering the lack of clothes you’re wearing right now.” She hums, short nails raking against your soft skin.

“Mhm...” you respond, breath getting caught in your throat at the sensation. Before you can get too caught up in how good it feels to have Natasha so close to you like this, you force yourself to consider the fact that you're outside and completely out in the open right now. “We should probably head back inside, people might be wondering where we went…” you gain enough willpower to break away from Natasha's hold and turn to face her, cheeks hot.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, I told Yelena we might disappear and that she shouldn’t worry about it.” Natasha lies easily, starting to walk forward and forcing you to walk backwards until your back hits the side of the house. She takes in your appearance properly for the first time tonight, her gaze lingering perhaps a little too long on your lips that were slightly swollen from when you were kissing Carol.

“Natasha…” You start, voice shaky. “Oh? Full name.. Well then.” Natasha hums, “Unless, of course, you’d like to go back to that other girl. Then be my guest.” She takes a step back and you swear you hear jealousy with a hint of anger in her tone.

You gain your confidence back for just a second and you smirk a little bit, “I mean, if you don’t mind. She was a good ki—” You're cut off by Natasha's lips on yours and you reciprocate immediately, reaching up to try and wrap your arms around Natasha's shoulders, but you're stopped by the older woman pinning your hands against the house.

The kiss isn’t gentle by any means and it only makes you want Natasha that much more. A whine slips past your lips when Natasha nips at your bottom lip and you arch to try and get impossibly closer to her.

Natasha pulls away much to your dismay, “You were saying?” She cocks her head to the side, looking up at you slightly, your platform mary janes giving you a few inches on her. “Would you just shut up and kiss me?” You whine, leaning back in to capture her lips in a kiss.

Natasha smiles against your lips and it’s almost a gentle encounter for just a second. She grasps both of your wrists in one hand, keeping them pinned against the house as, with her other hand, she rakes her nails down the soft skin of your left arm, leaving angry red marks in their wake.

You shiver, trying desperately to pull your wrists from the older woman’s grip so you can tangle your fingers in Natasha's hair, grip her waist, pull her closer, anything. She just grips your wrists harder and continues her descent down your body. Her fingertips linger over your breasts just a little longer than everywhere else before she goes back to raking her nails against your skin, stopping at the top of your skirt and teasingly dipping her fingers just beneath the waistband.

Natasha pulls away from the kiss, partly to catch her breath, and starts leaving messy kisses down the column of your throat, then back up the side of your neck, her teeth nipping at your skin every once in a while. “Tasha, please.” You're just kissing and you're already so desperate for more, you'd probably be more embarrassed if you cared more, but at this current moment all you want is Natasha's hands on you and her lips against your own.

Natasha's hand slips under your shirt and she gropes at your chest, hiking your shirt up so your breasts are uncovered. The flimsy bralette you're wearing is easy enough to tug down under your breasts and Natasha moves her kisses further down until she’s wrapping her lips around one of your pert nipples, tugging at it with her teeth. She’s met with the sound of your moans as a reward and she lets your wrists down so she can use her other hand to focus attention on your other nipple.

You're quick to tangle your fingers in Natasha's hair, arching your back and pushing the older woman’s head closer. If you were any less consumed in how good it feels to have Natasha touching you, you'd be much more concerned about the fact that anyone who stepped outside could see you like this, but right now all you can focus on is Natasha's hands and mouth.

You try pushing her head down further, wanting more. “Please, Tasha.” You whine, and all you're met with is Natasha pulling away altogether. “Patience, sweetheart.” She murmurs, leaning back up and soothing you with a kiss, other hand still tugging at and rolling your nipple between her thumb and index finger.

Natasha bites down on your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, and pushes her tongue past your lips. You moan into the older woman’s mouth, tightening your grip in her hair. She reaches down and takes the hem of your skirt, tucking it into the waistband. She’s teasing in her touches, not slipping under your panties, fingers dancing around where you need her most. She takes her time, leaving red hot scratch marks on your inner thighs and reveling in the way you shiver in response. And then finally, finally, she slips her fingers beneath the waistband of your panties.

You gasp, still able to taste your own blood on Natasha's tongue, as you finally feel her fingers against you, teasing and light touches. You're all whimpers and whines as the older woman rubs teasing circles against your clit. You pull away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips to Natasha’s, your breathing heavy as you let your head fall back against the side of the house.

Natasha is quick to attach her lips to your throat, sucking and nipping at the skin, surely leaving a bruise. One of her hands is still groping at your chest, enjoying the noises she’s rewarded with from you. She grins when she feels your hips attempting to grind against her hand, so she stills it, letting you grind against the heel of her palm and set your own pace. “That’s a good girl.” She mumbles, scraping her teeth against your sensitive skin. She drags her fingers through your wetness and stifles her own groan.

You're desperately grinding against Natasha's palm, but it’s just not enough and you need more. It’s a little pathetic how easy it was for Natasha to rile you up like this, and you're sure you'll be teased about it later, but right now all you care about is finally having Natasha’s fingers inside of you.

“Nat, please, inside.” It comes out as a pitiful whine, but it seems Natasha is feeling particularly nice today as you feel her laugh against your neck. You moan loudly when two fingers enter you and give you no time to adjust before pounding into you. Thank god the music from the party is so loud or someone might have come outside to see what’s going on.

“This what you wanted, princess?” She asks, fingers unrelenting as she pounds into you, her thumb rubbing circles around your clit. “Mhm– oh!” You moan, high pitched, when Natasha bites down on the juncture between your neck and your shoulder, soothing it with her tongue. And in return, you dig your nails into her back, the acrylics piercing through the thin fabric of Natasha’s shirt and drawing blood. She lets out a quiet moan, fingers stuttering. Oh? You'd have to remember that for later.

You bite down on your already bloodied bottom lip to stifle your moans, back arching into Natasha's touch. It’s not long before you feel like you're going to cum, nails digging further into Natasha’s back. “Please, Tasha– I’m gonna– Please.” You whimper, not even sure what you're begging for.

“Are you gonna cum, baby?” Natasha mumbles against your neck, pulling away so she can look at your face. She speeds up her fingers and gauges your reaction, feels you tighten around her fingers. “What do you need, sweetheart?” It’s a rhetorical question because all you can respond with is a flurry of begging and pleas to cum.

A particularly hard thrust has you grasping at her shoulders and moaning loudly. “I got you, baby. Be a good girl and cum for me.” Natasha murmurs, opting for harder thrusts instead of faster.

You moan loudly as you cum, mouth hanging open and you back arching. Appreciating how Natasha lets you ride out your high before leaving you empty. “Mm, good girl.” She pulls away slightly, but still supports you with a hand on your waist. She pushes her fingers past your lips and lets you taste yourself while she uses her other hand to fix your clothes.

“I meant to tell you earlier, but your outfit really drove me crazy tonight.”

#alice's fics !#natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x y/n #natasha romanov x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanov x reader

989 notes · View notes

hard-core-super-star · 6 months

Text

bare your soul 'til it's naked [C.Danvers]

pairing: sub!carol danvers x dom!reader

summary: you and carol experiment with switching up your usual roles and accidentally discover something new.

warnings: SMUT -> minors, don't look [porn with feelings; bondage; strap-on sex; an exploration of carol's submissive side; strapwarming; a dash of denial; carol's praise kink goes brr; captain kink because duh]

wordcount: 1.8k

a/n: no, i didn't disappear for like all of november, what are you talking about?? anywho, this happened and...i have no reason or explanation for it lmao. also, i'm not even going to pretend to be an expert on dom/sub dynamics but just labeling carol as a bottom felt wrong considering the more...intense route this took. ANYWAY, usual,"this is my first time writing for this character, please give me validation if you liked it," warning applies.

* * * * * * *

It had started as a joke.

You had told Carol how unfair it was that her superhuman abilities always led to her overpowering you after she had effortlessly picked you up and plopped you down onto the couch to stop you from washing the dishes. It had been an almost nonsensical joke that the blonde took a little too seriously.

It’s not something that genuinely bothers you, in fact, you love how quick Carol always is to pick you up and carry you everywhere. However, you had mentioned how much you’d love to have a turn at being in charge for once and your girlfriend took it upon herself to give you exactly what you wanted. (Like usual)

You weren’t sure why she was so dead set on doing this, especially considering how much she loves having the upper hand all the time, and yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell her to change her mind. Mainly because you’d have to be an actual fool to deny her anything but also because there’s been a look in her eyes that you can’t quite decipher that was born from the mere thought of switching roles for once.

So, your one meaningless joke had earned you a sight you’d never thought you’d see: Carol Danvers naked and bound on your bed.

It should be ridiculous. She’s a goddamn superhero, for crying out loud, she could easily rip apart those ropes like nothing. And yet…she remains motionless. You’d go far enough to call her stoic if it weren’t for the smirk she hasn’t yet wiped off of her face.

You both know the massive amounts of power she holds inside herself and she still chooses to pretend. To give in to the fantasy. To act like you truly hold all the cards when she’s the one with literal superpowers.

Your girlfriend huffs as she watches you admire her toned body and the intricate knots that hold her in place. She’s been sitting in the same position for what feels like hours, with her hands tied around her back and her legs spread open, showing off the strap attached to her hips.

“You gonna do something or just stare?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” you reply, shamelessly staring at her jawline while she throws her head back and groans.

“I’m going to lose my mind if you don’t touch me right now.”

You’re tempted to just walk away like she’s done to you countless times but you have other, more important, ideas on your mind.

You approach her in two quick steps, smiling at the way her eyes literally light up before tangling your fingers in her blonde hair and gently pulling. You’re rewarded with the sound of her gasp and you can practically see the way her veins pop out as she clenches her fists.

“I think you’re forgetting our deal, Captain,” you whisper. “I’m in charge, you just have to sit there and behave.”

She lets out a soft groan, her eyes fluttering closed for the briefest of seconds. You don't know if it's the hair-pulling or the use of the title that affects her so much but it’s obvious her reluctance melts away in an instant…which means your need to have her begging for you increases tenfold in that same instant.

“Are you going to need a reminder, baby?”

A long second of silence goes by before your girlfriend gives in. You’re more than willing to wait for her, especially once her eyes open again and you’re able to make out the specks of bliss that make her eyes sparkle more than usual. “No…I’ll behave.”

“Good girl,” you hum.

The whine that escapes her doesn’t reach your ears but the way her hips buck is more than noticeable and you can’t stop yourself from reaching out and wrapping your hand around the large toy. The fact that it’s fake doesn’t stop Carol from thrusting into your hand and she looks far too good for you to even think about making her stop.

That doesn’t mean you’re not going to tease her, though.

“Are you needy already, babe? I haven’t even done anything.”

“Maybe that’s why,” she replies, attempting to hold on to some of her usual snarkiness.

Something that would be more effective if she wasn’t bucking her hips in search of some friction.

The calm and controlled persona she so easily wears out on the field starts to slip and with it comes the barrage of thoughts that never allow her to give up control. It’s subtle but the sparkle in her eyes can’t erase the furrowing of her eyebrows or the tension in her muscles.

That desperation that makes her thrust up into your hand isn’t unfamiliar. Her need to give in to it is.

So, you do the only thing you know will help her focus on the moment instead of on her unspoken fears.

“Carol.” Her name leaves your lips as a mere whisper, the grip you have on her hair loosening just enough for the change to register in her unfocused mind.

She takes a deep breath before lifting her eyes up to look at you. You expect her to pull the plug on this whole thing, to put her walls back up and call it a day, but she doesn't. She does the exact opposite and leaves your mind spinning in the process.

“I need you.” The hushed tone she speaks in does nothing to hide her desperation. It’s not the kind you’re used to, though. It’s less about the physical and more about the emotional. It’s about the stability she’s always looked for but has never found in all the countless planets she’s visited.

The only place she’s found it in all her life is with you.

The second the thought enters your mind, you climb onto her lap, momentarily forgetting about the new dynamic you're forging and merely focusing on your vulnerable girlfriend. Despite your urge to help ground her, you can’t help but notice the way her hips instantly buck once again.

You still decide to wait, though, much to the blonde’s dismay.

“What do you need from me, Captain?”

“Need you…” She trails off and you half expect that to be the end of it until she continues a second later. “Need you to own me…use me…please.”

There’s no doubt in your mind of the strength it took for her to get the words out which only adds fuel to the fire burning in your core. A fire made up of desire, trust, and so much lust it could fill a small planet.

“As you wish,” you mumble before finally giving both of you what you really want.

Carol’s eyes watch you closely while you grip the toy attached to her hips and slowly tease your entrance with it. She technically can’t feel anything yet but she still takes every second in, rotating her hips in an attempt to bring you as much pleasure as she can.

You leave the dildo soaked in less than a minute and the sight of your girlfriend’s abs contracting with every movement does nothing to satisfy your growing desire. Your body shifts until you’re hovering over Carol’s dark blue strap, pretending like you can’t see the way she attempts to slam herself inside your already fluttering walls.

“You wanna fill me up, Captain? Is that what my good girl wants?”

It’s like a switch is instantly flipped inside her brain. Like everything else disappears until she’s left hanging onto your every word. She’s never been like this with someone else, much less felt like this. Felt such an intense devotion that she genuinely longs to submit to every one of your wishes and commands.

You could tell her to jump and she’d leap into the air without a second thought, ropes be damned.

She nods rapidly. “Yes! Yes, I want to fill you up so bad. Please, y/n.”

“If only your little Avengers friends could see you now, all tied up and desperate for me…” You trail off as you sink down onto her, relishing in the unashamed moans she can’t hold back.

You know how much she loves fucking you in this position and you also know how crazy it’s making her that she can’t control your speed. She can’t control anything in this moment. Not the speed of your movements, not the sounds she makes, not the unrelenting bucking of her hips.

The power rests in your hands despite how much of it runs through her veins.

“Fuck-” Your groan brings her back to reality. “You’re so good for me.”

Carol stares at you with wide eyes, plump lips parted just enough to allow all her sinful sounds to slip out unrestricted. Her entire world revolves around you, around the pleasure only she can give you…even when she's not allowed to touch you.

It would be so easy for her to break free, you both know that, and yet somehow, her choosing to remain trapped beneath you makes everything feel ten times stronger than usual.

Maybe that's what makes the coil in your stomach tighten faster than usual or maybe it's the way the blonde can't stop herself from messily thrusting up into your drenched cunt and burying her strap inside of you.

You’re both lost in each other, your nails digging into her shoulder in search of some stability while she works tirelessly to bring you to new heights. Heights she couldn’t even dream of reaching despite her love for flying.

“y/n,” she mumbles. “Please, I want- I need you.”

“Yeah? You wanna cum already, Captain?”

She shakes her head, the thinnest layer of tears gathering in her stormy eyes. “No, I want to make you cum. Please, can I?”

The mere question has you clenching around the toy but it’s the devoted look that’s plastered onto her face that makes you fall apart. For that brief moment, she’s not Captain Marvel, she’s not an Avenger, she’s just the woman you love more than anything else in the universe, the woman who loves you enough to trust you like this.

You fall over the edge without warning which triggers an avalanche of feelings inside Carol. The two of you slump into each other in a mess of shaking limbs and hoarse voices that cry out the other’s name.

It’s messy and loud and perfect.

It’s unclear how much time you both spend in the throes of your powerful orgasms but when you finally come back to yourself, you find your girlfriend’s face buried into the crook of your neck, trails of salty tears staining her warm cheeks. It takes you another second to realize what she’s mumbling but the second the words register, all your worry melts away.

“I love you-” It comes out more like a broken sob than a beautiful confession but you don’t mind.

You gently run your fingers through her messy hair, silently watching the shudders that your affection creates. “I love you too. You’re perfect, Carol.”

She doesn’t reply but she also doesn’t argue. She just stays in your arms, basking in the feeling of being loved.

Of finally being home.

535 notes · View notes

midnightmayhem13 · 11 months

Text

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

nsfw headcanons for the ladies! minors dni nd enjoy!🩶

carol danvers

•obviously has a captain kink

•she's a hardcore dom and loves being rough

•definitely has a lot of strap ons

•she loves when you wrap her arms and legs around her

•goes crazy when you pull her hair

•she has a big praise kink nd loves when she knows she making you feel good

•def loves missionary

•grips you rlly hard on the hip nd always leaves faint bruises

•loves staring at the scratches on her back

•leaves neck kisses while she pounds into u

•so many nicknames

•loves making you scream so ppl can hear

•doesn't like quickes cuz she needs to admire you

•leaves love bites all over ur body

•will eat it from the back

•gets so needy for your body

•she's obsessed with you

•stares at you lovingly and making you shy under her gaze

•her pupils get so big

•while grope you ass nd tits

•lil temperature play cuz of her powers

•when she's bottom she gets so whiney

•loves face sitting either way

•aftercare is v sweet and she's wipe you down and makes sure ur warm and all ur needs are fulfilled

sharon carter

• SHE HIT IT FROM THE BACK❕

•she loves slapping your ass and leaving light pink marks

•her favorite thing to do is fuck you from the back and wrap her arms around you and play w ur clit

•degradation kink fs

•she hates when you tease her

•has a mirror in front of her bed

•you cockwarm her when she's on business calls

•OMG MOMMY KINK

•she loves choking you

•loves to pull ur hair so you arch ur back

•makes you scream so ur voice is hoarse in the morning

•switches positions rlly abruptly

•handcuffs.

•whispers dirty things in public to make you squirm

•loves quicks bc sometimes she needs you so bad

•goes crazy if she makes you squirt

•she fs a power bottom

•could eat you out for hours

darcy lewis

•she is DEF a bottom nd sometimes a power bottom

•she's super needy

•lets out high pitched moans and whimpers

•pulls on ur hair a lot

•she loves begging, either you for her or her for you

•sloppily makes out with you while you fuck her

•leaves lipstick all over ur lips

•really sensitive neck

•while literally shake from you giving her neck kisses

•really loud honestly

•she loves leaving lip stick marks all over ur body face and neck

•wears lace undergarments and teases you with them

•she calls you mommy

•can't help but bite your lips while you two kiss

•sometimes accidentally draws blood, she apologizes profusely but you think it's hot

•scratches your whole back and loves to try to show them off

•super sleepy after sex

•she loves aftercare and you give her the best you can

•usually asks to wear your shirt or hoodie to bed

nebula

•takes a while before you two have sex

•although she would be top bc she wants to feel like she has power

•once you two get comfortable all she wants to do is you

•the fingers on her robotic arm vibrate

•she loves using them

•makes out with ur boobs

•leaves love-bites on them

•will straight up ask "can i fuck you" or "can we have sex"

•the first time she was scared bc she thought ur moans and whines were of discomfort

•stares at your face when ur overwhelmed with pleasure

•soft sex at first but then turns into mildly rough sex

•goes feral if you wrap ur arms around her neck and pull her into ur boobs

•smugly smirks when she makes you cum

•peter teaches her perverted things that u two can do

•holds you when u start shaking

•when she finds out she can eat you out all she wants to do is be between ur legs

•loves squeezing ur body bc ur astonishingly beautiful and soft to her

•super protective the day after

•when you fall asleep after you two are done she holds you and whispers sweet nothing to you

maria hill

•daddy

•absolutely loves sloppy sex

•she can be rlly rough and demanding but also extremely soft and slow

•her ocean eyes go all black full with lust

•loves bondage

•longggg ass sessions after a long day

•passionate kisses all over you

•gun kink...:)

•will slap ur tits and grope them aggressively

•loves cowgirl

•she'll lay back and put her hands behind her head and watch you feel good

•omg shower sex

•she'll love doing it in the car after a date when you two cannot wait to get home

•runs her hands through ur hair when u eat her out

•makes out naked with you in the bathtub while you two take a bath together

•grips ur jaw to make you do what she wants

•a lot of pet names between you two

•sleepy all sticky and sweaty bc she doesn't wanna leave ur side for a second in that moment

kate bishop

•she's either a lil vanilla bean in bed or a hardcore daddy

•she's shy in bed bc she's awkward in general and doesn't want to hurt you

•also doesn't rlly know what to do

•but she knows enough so you two start getting the hang of it

•you two experiment together

•she loves hearing you moan her name

•a lot of giggle between you two

•she lets out breath moans and whines

•she runs her fingers along ur curves

•you do the same and admire eachothers body

•she places a lot of kisses on ur head when she makes you cum for the first time

•soft sex

•you two hold eachother close in bed

•so many delicate kisses all over your bodies

•she's super sweet and goes super slow and only speeds up when you give her permission

•now if ur a daddy kate believe

•she calls you princess, doll, baby, pretty girl nd stuff like that

•she has some strap ons nd loves to use them

•presses down on ur tummy bulge

•teasing kisses around ur area

•leave hickies all over ur inner things and lower belly

•softest aftercare ever

•puts u in a lavender scented bath in her jet bathtub

hope i did them all justice! lmk what you wanna see next! ty for reading🩶

#carol danvers x reader #sharon carter x reader #darcy lewis x reader #nebula x reader #maria hill x reader #kate bishop x reader #wlw #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel smut #wlw smut

942 notes · View notes

togrowoldinv · 10 months

Text

By the Pool

Firefighter!Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Natasha invites you to the pool with her colleagues. She asks you to put sunscreen on her and things escalate from there

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, public touching, thigh riding, fingering (N receiving), thirsting over Nat

Note: Firefighter Nat 🔥 Burning Red AU Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

You watch as Natasha stands before you clad in a t-shirt and shorts that are just a bit too short. From your seat in a lounge chair, she winks at you before she slips her shorts off.

Underneath, she wears black bikini bottoms that leave very little to your imagination. Her thighs are are more muscular than you remember.

You were too focused on pleasing and being pleased by her last time you saw her with this little clothes on.

She invited you to the pool with her colleagues today and you’re beginning to think it’s just a ploy for her to show off her body. Not that you’re complaining.

Natasha lifts the shirt over her head and that’s when you truly feel your brain go fuzzy. She wears a bikini top that leaves the majority of her body exposed. And you get a good look at the tattoos on her ribcage.

“It’s a hot one,” Natasha says, glancing to you. “Do you mind putting some sunscreen on me, sweetheart?”

“Sure,” you say, assuming she’ll ask you to get the simple areas she can’t reach.

Natasha turns around and sits between your legs, both of you straddling the lounge chair. Her back tattoos are exposed to you which are enough to turn you into a puddle, but also her back muscles are on display.

She hands you the sunscreen and pulls her red hair around her neck so you can apply the sunscreen to her whole back and neck.

“Get everywhere you can please, baby. I don’t want to get burned,” Natasha says. She places her hands on your legs next to hers as she smirks to herself. She knows the effect she has on you.

You start slowly, placing your hands over her shoulders. She sighs contentedly as you massage the sunscreen into her skin.

“Hey Romanoff,” her colleague, Danvers you recognize, greets her.

“Carol,” Nat says. “How are you?”

The casual conversation while you work your hands over your back makes your heart beat out of your chest. You wonder if she can feel how wet you are with the way she’s sitting so close to your core.

“Sweetheart, go lower please,” she turns to you and says in the middle of the conversation.

“Nat, are you sure?” You whisper to her.

She smiles and moves herself an inch from you so you can reach her lower back. At this point, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Valkyrie have joined you by the pool.

You look around at them, but the only one who looks back is Valkyrie. She gives you a smirk as you apply more sunscreen to your hands. Natasha smiles when you apply it to her lower back.

“Lower,” she says when you’ve reached her waist.

“Nat.”

“Lower, please baby?”

How could you ever say no to her?

You move your hands down further and feel her firm butt cheeks. It all feels very intimate.

“Feels so good. Thank you, sweet girl,” Natasha says when she decides to relent on her teasing.

You almost choke but cover it with cough. Nat leans back in between your legs once again. You think she’s about to chill for a while, but she looks up to you.

“You can reach those areas,” you read her mind.

“Yeah, but wouldn’t it be more fun if you did it?” She asks. Her charming face is impossible to disagree with.

So, you get to work. She kisses your cheek in thanks as your hands roam over her abdomen. You work your hands over her abs and further up to her chest.

When you halt, Natasha takes your hands in hers. With a strong grip, she moves your hands over the outlines of her bikini top. You swear she’s trying to get you to push her bikini to the side.

“Don’t worry, baby. No one will see,” Natasha whispers.

You let her continue to move your hands at will. They run over her nipples. Her hands are strong and the veins in them stand out. One hand slips down her body to her waistline once again.

Your finger tips brush over her skin just under her bikini. Her skin is hot, but not as hot as you’re sure your face is. She pushes your hand down further. You can feel the soft hair right above where she wants you most.

“I want you to fuck me,” Natasha whispers.

“Natasha,” you mumble. But you don’t remove your hand. If anything, you move your finger over her folds purposefully.

“Just a little more,” she says.

“I really think we should go inside,” you try. Natasha shakes her head.

You’re so caught up in her that you almost forget about everyone else. You pull your hand out of her bikini and she whines.

“Let’s go inside,” you suggest.

“Fine,” Natasha says, but she isn’t upset. Not really. She just wants you so bad.

Natasha excuses the two of you from the group. A few hollers come but you don’t care. You want her so bad too.

Once inside, Natasha strips her swimsuit quickly. You push her onto her bed and return your attention to her pussy.

You waste no time licking over her folds and inserting a couple of fingers. She’s ready for you, the sunscreen having spurred her on as well.

“Feels so fucking good, baby,” Natasha moans. “I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah? Come for me, Natasha. Come for me like I know you wanted to out there,” you tell her.

“Fuck!” She shouts. She comes hard against your fingers. And God, she looks so beautiful as she does.

“That was amazing,” you say, pulling your fingers out of her to help her relax.

Nat hums in agreement and pulls you up to kiss her again. You gasp when her thigh brushes against you. Even through your bikini bottoms she feels your wetness.

“Hm, all for me,” she says.

“Yes, Natasha. All for you.”

“Ride my thigh, sweetheart. I know you want to,” she says.

She slots her thigh further in between your legs. And you move your hips to meet her every movement. You don’t even bother taking off your bottoms she gets you so wet so fast.

“Come for me, y/n. I know you can,” she encourages. With a few more moments, you come against her thigh hard. She can see your slick through your bottoms that is on her leg.

“Fuck,” Natasha mumbles. “That was so hot.” She kisses you a few times.

“Round 2?” You ask her once you can breathe again.

“Yes please,” Natasha replies.

So much for a pool day.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #firefighter!nat #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff comfort

599 notes · View notes

anki-of-beleriand · 4 months

Text

Bad Liar ch. 17

Summary: Life is about lessons, and Wanda has been learning some harsh facts that had define her life and taken her to a place in which she was given a second chance. Then, all of a sudden, she meets you, and she realizes why it's easier to lie to yourself than to accpet what's right in front of her.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff/ Female!reader - America/Kate - Mentions of past Vision/Wanda - past Natasha/Reader - Some Female!Reader/Carol Danvers - Mentions of Natasha/Maria being married

Warnings: Slow burn - Enemies to friends to lovers - Mentions of abusive relationships - Toxic relationships - angst - drama - mentions of abuse - violence - mentios of abused and sexual assault - idiots in love - violence - suggestive themes - drama - angst - fluff - top!reader - dom!reader - bottom!Wanda - switch!Wanda

Author's note: Life is settling down after what happened, America is growing up and ready to face the consequences of what happened. Wanda is letting go of the past while Reader is just being her showing Wanda happiness and love it is possible.

So sorry for the late posting, guys. Life was a little harder this week that what I was used to, and something happened that really got me anxious and a little bit...I mean, I was not in a good place, but hopefully everything is better now and here is the new chapter! Just one chapter to go and this story would be over. I hope you like it because I made it with my heart!

Please rmemeber English is not my mother tongue so forgive my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes, hope you like this one.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18

Chapter 17

The promise of the future

You never thought that going back home would be so difficult for you or even America. The place had been tied up and changed after the incident, with different furniture and painting you had allowed America free reign on her imagination to make the necessary changes into the living room.

The world had not stopped turning around, the news was still rolling on the TV and people were enjoying the weekend of the new year. You stood by your sister's side with a hand on her shoulder, America tensed lowering her gaze furrowing her brows before turning to you.

“What do you want to do?” Her question came with a trembling voice, she sighed, shaking her head while looking away from you.

You turned to look at Wanda's place then back at yours.

“I was thinking about vacations.” You hugged America, winking at her, “we could ask Tony about the cottage he had in Italy.”

America offered a shaky smile, “Italy?”

“Yeah, we could get away from this place for a while and then…get a new house.”

America chuckled, stepping away from you. You waited, ever since the both of you left the hospital America had tried to evade the topic of what had happened while she was under the claws of Agatha and Vision. The young woman scratched the back of her neck, with her eyes sweeping around the front yard. Her teeth playing with her lower lip, her feet taking slow steps towards the front door only to stop midway before turning to you.

“You don’t have to.” She finally said frowning, “it was difficult but not the end of the world, I…Hope offered her help, and I acceded to see a friend of hers that could be of help.”

You nodded curtly taking a few steps closer to her, “you know that even though we grew here we are allowed to leave, right?”

America snorted hugging you tightly, she knew it. She knew you would do everything in your power to make sure she was comfortable and that whatever traumatic event she had gone through could be healed and forgotten. Selling the house and even offering a vacation was your way to make things easier for her, but America had already talked this through with Christine and Hope. She had been scared, but more than that, she had felt powerless to help Kate, to help the twins and even to help Wanda.

“I know that, and perhaps in the future when I go to college you can think about it.” She replied shrugging, “I know you’re dying to get that Villa near Tony’s place, because you had always wanted a huge house with a pool and a bigger playroom.”

Your eyes glistened over with your lips curling into a content smile at the mental image these words evoke in you. America rolled her eyes, but she too could imagine the same; it was something she wouldn’t say no to when the both of you were ready, not because a bad experience marked their lives and they were doing it because of that. She had felt powerless to help the people she loved, but America would be damned if she allowed that man and that freaking woman to govern her decisions from now on.

“I want you to be comfortable, and happy.”

“I know, Y/N, and I am.” America nodded towards the house before pointing a finger at you, “come we need to get everything ready before we pick Wanda and the twins up.”

You watched as your sister went inside the house with the same determination she did everything else. Hope had already told you of the conversation the both of them held while you were unconscious, America had been angered by the whole situation and it took her a while to understand that there was no one else to blame but Vision and Agatha.

Kate had been the one to convince America to go to therapy for a while, just to perhaps let go of the growing fear and darkness the situation itself had created in both of them. You were thankful that America had always surrounded of good friends, and that you had always had someone by your side as well. Everyone seemed understanding, and while the situation was still fresh in your minds, you knew you would be okay.

“Come on, slowpoke!!” America screamed from inside the house, you rolled your eyes and followed her thinking about what would happen once Wanda was out of the hospital.

_____________________________

Wanda glanced at her reflection with a critical eye.

She scowled openly to the bruises around her neck and face, the paleness of her skin and the tiredness behind her eyes. She had spent the first weekend of the year in the hospital, waiting for the doctors to clear her up and sent her home while you and America took care of the twins while coming every day to visit her.

It had been hard.

While you had offered her the best end of the year and had been keeping your word of being by her side. Wanda couldn’t help the nightmares at night, when she was alone with her thoughts and the shadows of the past trying to crawl back inside her heart and mind. She placed a hand on her chest, holding tightly the sudden oppression threatening to cut of the air from her lungs. She clenched her jaw refusing the tears in her eyes, or the thoughts of fear that had creeped out once more. She had tried to hold onto what Hope had been teaching her in the therapy sessions, while also holding onto the bright side of her life.

Billy. Tommy. You. America and her students.

Wanda let out a shaky sigh before turning around and leaving the bathroom, you straightened up offering a half smile while holding up the bag with Wanda’s clothes.

“I put everything away, ready to do laundry duty as soon as we get home.” You walked towards her giving her a once over wiggling your brows, “you look nice.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, her lips curling slightly.

“You’re such a sweet talker,” she leaned in kissing your cheek, “it will get you everywhere.”

You blushed with your mouth hanging opened at the cheeky wink Wanda sent your way stepping out of the room, you snorted running to catch up to her.

The ride home was filled with music; Wanda kept her eyes out of the window watching the world pass rapidly through the window while you drove down the highway before taking the long way home. You caught the small smile adorning Wanda’s lips when you made the right turn, she sighed leaning back against the seat letting her eyes drink into the trees and the forest surrounding the road while watching the blue sky right above her head.

Wanda knew she needed to get home, Billy and Tommy were waiting for her. And life had to keep going, but something inside her stirred with fear and memory. She tried to keep away the words Vision had said to her, the feeling of his breath and hand on her, everything that the man had imprinted on her. Wanda clenched her eyes closed trying to erase those memories while replacing them with the beautiful sight in front of her, and the songs playing on the radio.

You creased your brows noticing the sudden change in Wanda, your eyes glanced at the road lighting up when you caught side of the road sign you usually dismissed when driving down that highway. You looked through the mirror before turning left, Wanda frowned turning to you slightly confused.

“Where are we going?” She asked softly, you smiled at her driving just a little faster until there was only one single road taking you deeper into a forestry area.

“You will see.”

Wanda opened her mouth to reply, her heart almost leaving her chest when she realised you made a turn she was not familiar with. For a brief moment she thought how foolish she had been. As long as she was with you everything would be fine, but the memories were not so easy to dismiss and she decided that at the moment she needed the comfort your warm stare usually brought to her.

The driving didn’t take far too long, soon you were turning left then right and then another right until you drove into an open space leading to a great cliff. Wanda opened her eyes glancing at the open sky with growing clouds approaching the city, she leaned forward until she saw the sight of the big city down into the valley. You stopped the car turning off the engine while resting comfortably on the seat, your lips drawing a small smile.

“Is this the place you used to bring your girlfriends?” Wanda asked at your side, you couldn’t help but laugh shaking your head.

“No, I never brought anyone here.” You confessed shrugging, “this was my little secret, I used to come here to think from time to time. Just me, it was comforting. I thought you may appreciate it.”

There was something stirring with deep affection in Wanda’s heart, the young woman snuggled on the car seat this time around turning completely so she could face you while still have her eyes take into the amazing view spreading before them.

“I don't know how to continue,” she all but whispered to you, her eyes glistening with the deepest of her emotions flickering in her green eyes, “I keep on thinking of my mistakes, the secrets I kept…I should have told you the dangers he posed to me and you.”

Silence filled the car, your eyes never leaving the sky above your heads. You pressed your lips together, your hands resting on the wheel, playing a soft tapping with your mind working on what to say. Wanda closed her eyes, looking away from you the afternoon falling slowly with the tension building up around the both of you.

“One day at a time, Wands, there is nothing much we can do.” You shrugged, lowering your head, still looking everywhere but at Wanda, “I didn't expect you to tell me everything right away, but I suspected as much. This was not your fault, Wanda. And this doesn't mean I love you any less.”

The word love rolled out of your tongue with such an easiness, Wanda couldn’t help but gasp with her eyes opening wide and her lower lip trembling slightly. You snorted shaking your head while leaning in your face just a few centimetres away from hers.

“You’re not used to hearing such words, are you?”

“No.”

Wanda leaned closer, her eyes fluttering close for a moment before she allowed your eyes to lock with hers. You lifted a tentative hand to cup her face, tenderness was quite evident in your features and Wanda allowed the warmth of your body to bring a soothing calmness she was not familiar with.

“I love you, Wanda.” You whispered only for her to engrave those words in her heart, “perhaps it is too soon, but for some reason, I just love you. I feel in love with you, and I don’t think there is nothing I can do against my feelings for you but make sure you feel loved, the way you deserved to be loved.”

Wanda swallowed down her words and tears, she offered a tentative smile before closing the gap between the both of you her lips dancing shyly with yours. Her heart beating fast, almost escaping her ribcage while she melted under your hands; you didn’t need to say anything else for her to know you certainly did love her. And she knew soon she would be ready to say those same words to you.

“It will take time, but you will heal.” You winked at her, your fingertips brushing against her cheek and jawline until your brows creased finding the marks on her neck.

“Some marks take time to…fade away.” Wanda mumbled slightly mortified by her wounds, she tried to lean back and hide away from you until her breath caught on her throat with her eyes growing big and her body tensing completely.

She felt the contact of your forehead against hers, the gesture was comforting and it made her experience an emotion she was not completely familiar with. Wanda’s heart fluttered affectionately surrendering to your gaze. She opened her lips ready to speak, but her words got tangled in her throat leaving her unable to express what she really wanted. What she really felt.

It didn't matter, though.

You were still there offering the same reassuring smile, and the same comforting touch. Wanda had to wonder how you did it, how was it possible for you to offer so much without asking for anything in exchange.

“We never got to have the date I planned.” Wanda said all of a sudden, you leaned back with amusement gleaming in your eyes.

“That's right,” you cocked your head wiggling your eyebrows, “and I got curious about it, what did you have planned?”

Wanda dipped her head with her lips curling into a tender smile, she straightened up on the seat glancing outside the window.

“It's a secret, I guess I just have to plan it all over again so we can go.” Wanda sighed, still looking away from you. “Of course, if you want to…I mean, if you still want to go out. With me.”

The last part was said in a broken whisper, Wanda shifted on the seat creasing her brows while making sure her eyes were glancing at the city. The light of the day was soon fading away, and the city was starting to light up the artificial lights.

“I would love nothing more than to go out with you, Wanda.” You replied with a tender smile on your lips, Wanda shivered trying to smile at you but failing.

The old insecurities were still there and you knew the work Wanda had done in the last couple of months had been shaken but the recent events. You could see her self-doubt, her uncertainty and the lost stare she gained after leaving the hospital. The bruises were pretty much visible at the moment, the pain was still pulsating through her body and Wanda was just trying to hold onto her sanity and her own determination to not fall into desperation.

You lifted a hand slowly, your eyes seeking out those green eyes of Wanda. After a moment of hesitation, Wanda finally lifted her face looking at you expectantly. Her eyes flickered to your hand, then to your face.

“I was thinking…” Wanda winced, her throat sore and dried bringing discomfort to her voice.

You let your arm lifted for a moment before dropping it to the side to grab the bottle of water you brought early in the day.

“Thank you.” She mumbled almost dropping the bottle of water when you tenderly brush the spot on her neck.

Her breath caught on her throat, trembling lightly with a mixture of emotions tingling through her body. Her face heated up, following with your eyes the movements of your arms and your own expression while mapping out the dark bruises on her neck.

“Y/N…” your name left her lips tenderly, with some uncertainty that called your attention.

You frowned, stopping any movement from your hand, your eyes flickering from the bruises to her face.

“I'm sorry, did it bother you? I just…”

“No, no it's just…”

You broke into an easy smile that Wanda returned without losing her blush. She bit her lower lip, without any doubt behind her gestures she grabbed your hand placing it on the left side of her neck.

“You surprised me, that's all.” Wanda sighed looking away for a moment before continuing. “I'm not used to such tenderness.”

You tensed lightly, your eyes flashing with anger before they softened lightly. Wanda offered a crooked smile, this time around she let go of your hand embracing herself.

“With you, everything is…different and sometimes I just can't believe this is happening.”

“May I try something out?” You asked suddenly, Wanda narrowed her eyes at the sudden flush showing on our face. Your fingertips trembled, with your lips pressed together while your eyes travelled from her face to her neck then back again.

“What are you going to do?” Wanda couldn't help the tone of wariness and curiosity; she tilted her head and your eyes gleamed strangely falling on her neck.

“Just something to show you how you should be treated, how you should be cherished.”

It was the husky tone behind your words what made Wanda tremble, she swallowed down her trepidation with a tingling void taking home in her abdomen.

You waited patiently, your fingertips never leaving the soft skin of Wanda's neck. For a moment, Wanda just thought of her possibilities, of what exactly you were planning. Then her eyes went to your own bruises, to the wound on your hand and arm and she softened lightly. If there was anyone she trusted more than herself, that was you.

“Okay, you…you can try it, would I…I mean, is it dangerous?”

You snickered, shaking your head, this time around there was a glint of mischief in your eyes. Wanda felt her stomach do a flip, and soon she let out a gasp while her hands clenched into a fist with her eyes fluttering close to the sensations you were creating with your mouth.

She never imagined you would lean in to place your lips on her pulse point, nor that you would start leaving open-mouthed kisses that went to draw the marks left on her neck. Wanda was not sure what to do with her hands, her body went rigid but her lower stomach and her heart were tingling over with an emotion she was not familiar with.

You let your lips mapped out her skin, brushing lightly while letting your free hand cup her face tenderly. You wished to let Wanda know she was loved that not all touches directed at her were meant to harm or to mark, that she deserved the tenderness you were trying to show.

You didn’t know what got into you, the only thing you knew for certain was that Wanda needed love, she needed to understand how wonderful she was. How she deserved happiness, and that no number of wounds or injuries from her past should get in the way of her new life. And thus, without any thoughts in your mind you leaned in to kiss away her neck your lips dancing tentatively on the bruised skin.

Wanda trembled under your touch, she let her hands wrapped around your arms her lips parting slightly while her body ignited with a fire she was no familiar with. Just as you started you finished it, leaning back with your heart hammering against your chest, your cheeks flustered and a timid smile adorning your lips.

Wanda was not in a better state, she was trembling with her face completely red and her breathing erratic. She could not hide her lust, nor the complete affection those green eyes shot at you as soon as she opened them.

You opened your mouth to speak, but whatever you were going to say was cut short by Wanda kissing you harshly. You welcomed her in your arms, allowing the passion she was trying to contain while kissing her back with the same need she was showing.

The afternoon finally gave way to the night, and while you allowed Wanda the control of the kiss you could feel her tears wetting your face. Until she could not continue and allowed herself the relief of your arms, unable to say what she had been trying to tell you for a very long time.

I love you.

______________

Wanda held onto the blanket, her eyes dancing around her room while the silver light of the moon sneaked into the room.

The nightmare was still fresh in her mind, the shadows of the past haunting her in her sleep. Wanda let out a sigh putting the blankets away before sitting up, she was no longer tired and sleep was not an option, her eyes fell on her mobile showing the hour.

4 a.m.

The silence of the early hours of the day was deafening to her ears, Wanda turned around and decided a trip to the kitchen was a good idea. She put on some sweatpants, a hoodie and left her room with the memory of her nightmare dancing around in her mind.

The morning came with light snowing, the new year had come and gone bringing with it a world of possibilities Wanda never thought possible before. She grabbed the mug tightly around her hands, her eyes watching the snowflakes fall on her backyard.

Wanda blew some steam out of her mug, her mind soon bringing over the memories of the day before. Your words, your smile, your touches; last day she had experienced a deep affection and protectiveness she had never felt before. The passion you had ignited in her with your kisses and your tenderness had made her soul tremble with want, but she had not dared to move forward and confessed what you had done so freely.

I love you. I'm in love with you.

Wanda couldn't help the smile breaking at the memory, without a single doubt she felt the veracity of those words whenever she was close to you. Whenever you went with her, or helped her children, or you simply were yourself.

The young woman wished she could say it back to you, that she wasn't so afraid to be open and confessed the love she was feeling for you. Wanda wished things were easier, but she was still afraid. She had failed not only once, but twice and now that she was freed of her past, she was afraid of messing up a third time.

“You couldn't sleep either?” America crossed her arms putting the heavy coat closer to her body, she glanced at Wanda from her yard not really sure if her presence would be welcomed by the older woman.

Wanda glanced at America with eyes wide open, she tilted her head shrugging lightly.

“Not really.” Wanda all but replied with an effort, she hesitated for a moment before adding, “I have a nightmare.”

America made a face nodding, “yeah, me too.”

Wanda could see the indecision in America's face, she lifted her mug before patting the spot beside her. America tilted her head and for that moment Wanda could see the same gesture you did when you were weighing your options. The young woman turned to her house before stepping closer and moving past the side door to Wanda's yard.

The snow kept on falling, America sat down furrowing her brows while watching at the sky. She could feel the eyes of Wanda on her, and the memory of her harsh words resounded in her mind. Before going to you, America had made sure to share her thoughts with the redhead, she made sure to let Wanda know America was not happy with what had happened.

“I'm sorry.” America finally said huffing while turning to the shocked woman.

America shifted on the spot furrowing her brows.

“Back in the hospital I just…I was stressed out, and finding out about this man and my sister, I was…”

“I know, I understand.” Wanda replied, placing a tentative hand on top of America's one. “You don't have to apologise.”

America shook her head frowning deeply, “but I do! Look I was unfair, when I was trapped in my house and then when I got to the hospital, I was partially blaming you for everything.”

Wanda winced ready to speak but America was firm on her explanation. She put her hand on top of Wanda's making sure to be as open as she could with her expressions.

“Y/N is the only family I have left, and I love her dearly. She has sacrificed so much for me, I just couldn't bear the thought of her suffering or losing her in any way.” America huffed, shaking her head with her eyes taking in the visible wounds on the woman before her.

“I never thought how much you and Billy and Tommy suffered all this time.” America confessed; Wanda tensed not wanting to interrupt America in the middle of her rant. “And after I got to see him, and everything I heard afterwards. I was not fair to you, I'm sorry I screamed at you and…that I was mad for something you couldn't control.”

Wanda shook her head offering a tiny smile to the young woman sitting beside her.

“There is nothing to be sorry for, America, I understand why you did it and I never hold it against you.” Wanda huffed, turning to see the snow fall, “I'm also sorry you and Kate had to live that, I wish things had been different. That he…”

America nodded curtly, and Wanda just shrugged.

“I guess right now he is where he must be, and he won't be hurting me or my children or even you and your sister anytime soon.” Wanda took a long sip from her tea, she glanced at the clear beverage before offering some to America.

The young woman grabbed the mug in her hands, she placed her elbows on her knees shivering lightly while glancing at the frozen ground.

“You really make my sister happy; you know?” She whispered pursing her lips a little.

“She makes me happy, and sometimes I just think I don’t deserve it.” Wanda cleared her throat wincing lightly when the old pain came bothering her again, “I never got to take her out, you know?”

“I know, I bet she would have loved the date you planned out for her.”

“You think so?” Wanda inquired with a hint of doubt in her voice, America nodded enthusiastically her lips curling lightly.

“You guys should really try it this time around, I mean now that everything is back to…” America was about to say normal, but the truth was nothing was normal anymore. Things were different, but they didn’t feel normal.

Wanda leaned back with hint of determination gleaming in her green eyes, she smiled lightly nodding to herself.

“Then, you should help me out.” Wanda turned to America who had her brows raised and eyes slightly opened. “I mean, I will have to plan it all over again, but this time around I want it to be perfect for her, I want to…”

Wanda didn’t finish her thought, but for America there was no need to. America could see the affection there as well as the will to offer you a perfect date. Silence fell between the both of them, no more words were needed it and America could see how little by little her family had grown in such a small amount of time.

She wished upon the falling snow for everything to finally fall into place and happiness to be possible again.

This time around, she also wished for Wanda, Tommy and Billy to be part of that happiness and to allow you and her to be part of that family.

_______________________________

Time passed slowly with the recovery of the wounds and the unstoppable meetings with Hope.

Wanda realized the nightmares were back, and she had to face the ghost of her past and her present while finally speaking about what had happened during those hours in which Vision had come back to her life. Hope was always patient, telling the young woman that the progressed she had made was still there but that the current fear and uncertainty she was feeling was just natural and in a matter of time she would let go and move on.

Wanda wished it was easier, and faster.

As of late being closer to you had been easier yet allowing you a single touch was difficult to experience. A part of her, the one that sound eery familiar, told her she didn’t deserve your affection much less the tenderness behind your touch. Wanda was afraid that her insecurities would finally push you away and she would be like at the beginning, alone.

“You have to be patience as well, Wanda,” Hope tilted her head smiling softly at her, “Y/N would never get tired of showing you her affection, and she knows and understands what you and your children are going through. You have told me of the conversations you both held regarding this situation.”

“Yes, but I just…” Wanda passed a hand through her hair, she turned to the window watching as the cold sun of winter sneaked through the clouds, “I’m just afraid she will get tired eventually, that I won’t be able to change this.”

Here she pointed to her chest, clenching her fist while growling lowly. Hope observed the young woman for a very long time, this was not a new discussion and in the last two weeks had been the main topic around their sessions.

“How is going with the planning of the date? Have you gotten what you need?” Hope asked trying to divert the topic to something that would ignite the flames of hopefulness in Wanda.

Wanda stopped her frustration giving way to a tender smile, her eyes softened nodding lightly.

“Yes, actually this time around I got America and her friends helping me out with the planning,” Wanda chuckled taking a seat, “they really are good teens, and I just need to pay the last part and I will be able to finally get her to the date I promise.”

“She will love it, you know that, right?”

“You think so?” Wanda pursed her lips resting her chin on her hand, “America told me she really loved this, and I just…God, she had been so good to me and my children, and I just…”

Hope waited for Wanda to continue but the other woman merely trailed off shrugging. Wanda wanted to be perfect for you, she wanted to make sure that what she was doing for you was enough to let you see how much she loved you. Wanda wanted to make sure that she was the right person for you, that in this new adventure she was enough.

“You are enough.” Hope commented offhandedly, ignoring the stare coming from Wanda, “but you need to start believing it yourself and giving yourself the chance to experience this.”

“I know.” She mumbled letting her hand rubbed her neck, “I’m really trying, you know? I don’t want this to consume the time I could spend with my children, with Y/N and with my new friends.”

Hope shrugged offering a comforting smile, “we have seen your efforts, Wanda. Don’t sell yourself short because this is not moving at the speed you want it, be patient and persistent. That’s the secret.”

Wanda sighed breaking into an easy smile when her eyes fell on her mobile and a new message appeared on the screen. Hope chuckled recognizing the name, and her eyes went to the clock on the wall. Right on time.

“I guess this is it for today, isn’t it?” Hope said chuckling when Wanda nodded putting the mobile away.

“I don’t know how to thank you for your help.” Wanda stood up waiting until Hope got to her to wrap her into a comforting hug.

“Nonsense. At the end of the day, Wanda, you are my friend as well and the important thing is for you to be and to feel safe.” Hope winked at her nodding to the door. “Now go, I bet they are waiting for you.”

Wanda nodded turning around and leaving the practice. Hope shook her head making her way towards the window where she could see you were standing right on the sidewalk with Tommy and Billy by your side grinning widely holding some posters on their hands. Wanda put a hand on her mouth, laughing before hugging her children while leaning into your embrace as well. Hope smiled tenderly watching the scene with fondness, you really were pretty much in love with the woman and your every action was to ensure her happiness.

Time was all you and her needed. Of that, Hope was completely sure.

The cold of winter came crashing against Wanda, but whatever coldness she was experimenting was soon forgotten when the warm of your hug and the arms of her children engulfed her completely. She couldn’t help but smile when you planted a single kiss on her lips, and her children snickered calling out to her with posters in their hands.

“What are you guys doing here?” Wanda took the first poster that Billy had made, it was a drawing of their home decorated with many toys and colours representing her, Tommy, America and even Y/N.

“Y/N thought you missed us, and we decided to come and invite you to some snacks.” Tommy said also presenting Wanda with his own drawing. “And, she said you need support.”

“And thus, they did this for you.” You continued grinning, “this is mine, but of course not as good as theirs.”

In your you had written a single declaration of beauty and love in Sokovian, Wanda softened at the words and the drawings not being able to take her smile off of her face. She breathed softly when your lips found hers, her laughter breaking the moment when she heard Tommy and Billy making gagging sounds.

“Ugh, no, mommy!” Billy grabbed Wanda by her hand shaking his head, “come on!! I’m hungry!”

“Me too!”

You chuckled wiggling your brows while winking at Wanda, “come, America is waiting for us and then, once we have them distracted I will kiss you again.”

Wanda flushed but she decided she wouldn’t wait, instead of letting you go she grabbed you by your hand and placed a singe kiss on your lips. You blinked away your shock, while the twins merely snickered covering their mouths.

“Now, where are you taking me guys?”

“We’re going to the park!” The twins screamed running towards the car, you smiled at Wanda who merely blinked confused at you.

“The amusement park.” You clarified scratching the back of your head, “they have this new carnival and I thought you guys would like it.”

Wanda let her eyes wandered to her children then back at you, her heart shrank under your stare and the innocent happiness behind her children. She nodded stretching her hand to grab your right hand in hers.

“We’ve never been to one, so I’m pretty sure we would love it.”

“Good, then let’s go!”

__________________

The park was located it in the southern part of the city.

Winter was the perfect time to bring forth the ice-skating rinks, the place was filled with families and friends enjoying the falling afternoon light and the bright lights from the different attractions. Wanda felt her heart jumped anxiously when she lost sight of Tommy and Billy only to see them talking animatedly with Kate and America.

It didn’t take too long for her to see the familiar faces of her students, and some of your friends walking around the place while sharing a good time. You intertwined your fingers with hers, smiling softly at her while leading her to the closest food stand. You glanced around seeing as America shook her head while negotiating with the twins, Wanda leaned closer to you offering the same tender smile she reserved for you.

“This is amazing.”

“You liked it?” You asked softly, Wanda nodded squeezing your hand reassuringly.

“I do.”

“Good, I was thinking of doing something different with you and the twins, I know as of late you have been stressing out and they haven’t slept well.” You lowered your gaze to the menu, sensing as Wanda tensed by your side.

“You knew?” She turned to America then back at you, your lips broke into a crooked smile shrugging.

“I suspect as much.” You sighed pointing at the combo for a hot dog and soda, “this one look fine, what do you say?”

“It has been difficult but, nothing we can’t deal with.” Her tone of voice had improved since new year, but sometimes you could catch the scratching of her throat and the fading wound Vision had left on her.

“You know I’m here for you and the twins, don’t you?” You faced the young woman, this time around forgetting all about the food and focusing your attention on Wanda.

Wanda shifted letting go of your hand, she felt the cold breeze of the afternoon sneaked inside her clothing. She shivered missing the warmness your hand was providing, though if she were to be honest with herself, it wasn’t your hand. It was you. All of you.

“I know.” Wanda lowered her gaze, her arms wrapping around herself. “Sometimes it’s just difficult for me to know…to actually realise I’m not alone. And that…”

She trailed off when a young man came from behind the counter asking for your order. Wanda observed with care just as you asked for her favourites, while also making sure to ask for Billy and Tommy’s favourites. You knew them so well, Wanda wondered why she had never noticed how attentive you were, how much you knew about them without any difficulties.

You need to let go, and give yourself a chance.

Wanda had already had this conversation before, and she had already fought over with herself against the uncertainty that these new emotions and this new relationship might bring to her life. With a softening heart she sneaked her arm around yours leaning closer to you, you lifted your brows surprised by the gesture but smiling smugly at her closeness.

“Which one is your favourite?” Wanda asked all of a sudden, you furrowed your brows pursing your lips before speaking.

“I like it spicy; you know? No pineapple because, yuck,” Wanda chuckled taking into your every word, “and I like all the sauces I can get my hands on.”

“So basically, a hot dog that may kill you in the near future or get you an upset tummy?” Wanda commented shaking her head, you rolled your eyes shrugging.

“Come on, is not that bad!!”

Wanda snorted but she could not say anything else for Billy and Tommy came right there, both of them were quite excited talking at the same time pointing to a different set of attractions they wanted to try over. You smiled fondly just as Wanda tried to negotiate with her children, America chuckled lifting her arms when both of them pointed to her while pouting. Soon the food was brought over, and you decided it was time for you to intervene.

“Okay, okay, I have a proposal!” Everyone turned to you, your good arm lifting above your head before pointing with your head the table filled with food. “We are going to eat first, then we will go to the Carousel, then we will move onto the bumper cars.”

Billy and Tommy cheered high fiving while hugging you with smiles on their faces, Wanda chewed on her lower lip glancing at those rides before turning to you. You winked at her leaning forward while lifting a single finger.

“Then, we will go to the Ferris Wheel to see the lights show from the park, okay?”

“Yes!” The twins then proceed to drag you to the table eager to start eating and go to the different attractions.

Wanda and America stayed behind grabbing napkins and helping with the beverages.

“They really are happy.” Wanda stated glancing at her children then back at America.

“They really are, are you?”

“I am.” Wanda shrugged smiling softly, Kate came right at that moment helping around while turning to Wanda.

“My mom just called me, she told me everything is ready and that if you confirmed her right now she would get everything ready for Friday.” Kate grinned when Wanda opened her eyes excitedly.

“You mean it?”

“Yep, I know Y/N would love her so…”

“You just have to say the word.” America pressed over smiling as well. Wanda turned to you where you were sitting with the twins helping them around while also allowing them to help you with the food.

Wanda felt her heart beat a tad bit faster, shrinking with pure emotion at the familiar scene she had gotten to witness in the last couple of weeks. She turned to the two teens nodding excitedly.

“Yes, tell her I take it.”

America squealed excitedly hugging Wanda before turning to an equally excited Kate.

“She is going to love it, you will see.”

Wanda surely hoped so, for the only thing in her mind was to make sure you also experience the love, affection and happiness she had felt with you from the moment the both of you met. From the moment, the both of you gave the friendship a chance to grow into something else.

Wanda Maximoff had never had such a wonderful time before.

She was dragged by you or America or even her children around the park to try the different attractions. She got to experience the adrenaline of the roller coaster, while also gave in the excitement of the bumper cars while laughing alongside you.

You were by her side at all times, without being overwhelming it was as if you knew what it was she needed and you were right there to make sure she got it. Wanda admired the easiness in which you and the twins soon found a common ground and they sought you out for comfort or confirmation of what to do next.

Whatever doubts that came after the incident, or whatever reluctance Wanda felt when around you were soon forgotten and she just gave in standing by your side with a beating heart and a tingling body whenever you brushed your hand against hers or your lips found hers when alone.

In the end, and after going through all the different stands holding games with prizes everyone ended up on the Ferry Wheel.

“Come on guys, you can go first.” You nodded to your sister and Kate, winking lightly while America just rolled her eyes.

“Let us take Billy and Tommy…” Kate started but you shook your head placing your right hand on her shoulder.

“No, this is for you guys, go and snog my sister when you get to the highest point,” you chuckled when Kate blushed looking away while America looked mortified, “you guys have been taken them with you most of the day, so it’s only fair. Go.”

Wanda was standing back with Billy and Tommy furrowing her brows when, after a moment of discussion America and Kate finally went inside one of the passenger cars. You stepped back joining Wanda who was trying to hold back the twins that were waving happily at America and Kate.

“I think we shouldn’t eat those candy apples,” Wanda snickered when the twins talked amongst themselves excitedly.

“Oh, come on, those are quite delicious, and I don’t mind them being this hyperactive.”

“You don’t?” Wanda blinked a couple of times stepping forward, waiting until the car stopped and the door was opened for you and the others to go in.

“No, I actually think it’s kinda cute.” You blinked at her before calling for Billy.

“Come here, little guy, you’re sitting with me, and Tommy is sitting with Wanda.” You pinned them with your eyes, your face transforming into a mask of pure seriousness. “I need you to be well-behaved because while this is fun, we need to make sure it is also safe, okay?”

“Yes, Y/N.” Both of them said at the same time, Wanda cocked her head lifting a single eyebrow impressed.

Soon the ride started with classical music playing through the speakers, you looked outside with Billy pointing out the different spots. You leaned forward answering his questions, while also telling him and Tommy about a past you had experienced with America and your parents. Wanda leaned back hearing the sound of your voice and the question of her children while taking in the scene.

“Woah, look mommy!! This is so pretty!” Tommy said pointing right outside the car where the lights show was being played near the skate rink.

“It is, it looks really pretty.” Wanda mumbled glancing at you and noticing you had your eyes on her.

“It is just beautiful.” You replied as well, smiling tenderly at her before turning your attention back to the outside world.

“This is the best day ever, Y/N, thank you.” Billy said softly turning to you and giving you a tight hug.

You returned the hug softening your features while feeling your heart skipped a beat under the display of affection from the little boy.

“I’m glad you like it, Billy.” Your voice was loud enough for him, Tommy and Wanda to hear you out, “I just want to make you enjoy the beautiful things in life, if you guys allow me to do so, I will be more than happy to show you the world.”

Wanda wrapped her arms around Tommy, shaking her head while her eyes filled with tears.

“How about you let us show you also the beautiful and fun things in life, and we share those experiences with one another?” Wanda replied glancing at you, the silent invitation there.

You chuckled nodding, “I would love that.”

Wanda nodded turning again to the world outside the passenger car, her heart leaping with happiness at the moment she was living with you and the twins. Suddenly, in the midst of such peaceful moment Wanda came to the realisation that everything she needed, whatever she had been looking for was just there, sitting right across her loving her children and her without asking nothing in return.

And for that, she loved you without any reservations.

For that, she promised herself to make sure you were happy, the way you were making her and her children happy.

____________________________

Final chapter: The date Wanda planned finally comes to be, there will be smut, and happily ever after.

#fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxreader #imagine wanda maximoff #female reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #reader

151 notes · View notes

inklore · 11 months

Text

look at you

premise: carol's watching the movie but you're watching her.

pairing: carol danvers x (f)reader

word count: 511

warnings: eighteen+ content, fingering, estasblished relationship.

note: it would be homophobic of me if i didn't finally write for my girl during pride month, like what kind of down bad slut would i be if i didn't. ok i love her.

“We’re supposed to be watching the movie.” Carol smirks against your collarbone. The tip of her tongue runs to the divot in your neck before running up the column. Her teeth nipping at your chin when her mouth reaches it, “instead, you’re about to come on my fingers.”

“It’s not my fault.” You moan as your hips gyrate purposefully, causing the two fingers she has inside of you to move at the angle you need them to. Her palm in the perfect position to hit your clit the faster your hips move.

She hums, her eyes glazed over with the kind of lust that makes your knees tremble. Your thoughts and body are going into overdrive as the need within you turns into an ache that you feel like you may cry from if it’s not sedated.

“Who’s fault is it then, pretty girl?”

“Yours.” Your fingers move from her shoulders to her neck as you bring your mouths together, the hunger of the kiss—and the need you know Carol feels—the fingers digging into the muscle of your ass, the dirty words she had bit into your neck when she felt how wet you already were, evident of it. “Look at you,” you gasp against her lips.

You feel her head shake an inch, the fingers at your ass coming to the nape of your neck to keep your mouth on her lips. To make the kiss harder, more heady as her tongue traces the seam of your lips before slipping in and against your waiting tongue.

“Look at you. Listen to you.” Carol curls her fingers just so, making your body shudder against her front. The noise that leaves your throat nothing compared to the wet noise her fingers are making as they fuck into you. Of how you’d tried to press your thighs together to hold yourself off as the two of you watched the movie you chose.

The little date night you decided the two of you needed because it felt like all the two of you did when she came over was come and eat cold pizza from your fridge before you were coming again and spent the rest of the night tangled in each other's limbs until exhaustion.

You couldn’t help it, though.

The old band t-shirt that you had found at some old street sale that she only took off when it was by your own hands when she was over. The way her hair fell into her eyes a little bit each time she laughed. Her teeth pulled her bottom lip between them when she saw you staring, and the all-too-obvious clenching you were doing beside her made her smirk.

She was otherworldly.

And the way her fingers knew all the right places to stroke, move, push, and pull into and against your body was enough to make your self control nonexistent with her around.

“Come for me so I can take you to the bedroom and make better use of this tongue,” Carol breathes in your mouth. Tongue running along your bottom lip.

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers smut #carol danvers x you #carol danvers #brie larson imagine #carol danvers x female reader #carol danvers x y/n #brie larson smut #carol danvers imagine #carol danvers fanfiction

538 notes · View notes

stories4thepack · 2 months

Text

Save you

Carol Danvers x vampire reader

Warnings: blood, violence, vampire stuff

You get hurt on a mission and Carol is there to help you get better. Even if that means you gotta bite her….

Kamala’s grin had fallen for the first time since the four of you had originally met. Monica was sat Beside you, watching as the few remaining Skrull vanished from the ship in a flash of light. Sorrowful silence replaced their prescience

You leaned against the table, desperately attempting to cover the wound on your abdomen with your hand. You wore a plain, black shirt and matching leather jacket which kindly assisted in hiding the dark blood seeping through the fabric.

“Y/n? Are you alright?”

Monica asked, her stoic face shifting into an expression of pure concern. You tried your best to smile, swallowing down the painful hiss as you got to your feet, stumbling as you took a step away. Kamala is on her feet immediately and Carol dashes to your side, fear moulding her clay face.

“Im alright, just tired. Don’t worry.”

You glanced at Kamala, who’s eyes were tearing up with guilt. She had tried to shield you as the large, rocky over hang had fallen, but she had swapped places the second she used her powers. As a result, a large piece of the boulder had dug itself into your body, while it was removed, the wound refused to close without blood. You shook your head, almost begging her not to mention it.

“She got trapped under one of the rocks that fell.”

She cries out and Carols eyes widen with shock. She had seen you disappear for a moment as she had blasted the falling boulders, but she had never thought for a second that you had been caught in the rocks, never mind been impaled by one of the shards.

“You’re coming wit me”

“Carol-“

You began to protest, but Carol began to drag you from the others into the room down below. Once there, she forced you to sit down, quickly tearing your jacket off your shoulders.

“Carol-“

“Y/n, im going to help you.”

“Carol!”

You tried again as she lifted the bottom of your shirt up, revealing the deep, seeping wound. Blood flowing down onto your dark, vibranium infused trousers. She froze, staring in horror at the wound.

“Carol, you can’t help. The wound is way too bad, I need blood. Pass me one of the bags in the fridge.”

Carol remains staring fixedly at the wound, almost as if she was contemplating her next move. She slowly raises her head, meeting your soft gaze.

“There aren’t anymore. I forgot to ask fury for more.”

“What?!”

You shout, yelping as pain shot through your body at the action. Panic bubbles inside of you. Without blood and with such an injury, your hunger would grow faster than usual. You were a danger to everyone in this ship. You needed to go. Get out. Before you hurt anyon-

“I’m going to help you.”

Carol says again, releasing the words deliberately slowly as she moves her hair away from her throat. Allowing her neck to be on full display. Your eyes flashed red at the sight, hunger boiling in the pit in your stomach and burning through your veins. You snap your jaw shut, locking it in place and lurching away from your girlfriend. She grasps your hands, holding them tightly as she speaks gently.

“Please Y/n, let me help.”

“Captain-“

You muttered, leaning a little closer to where she is crouched in front of you. She gasps lowly as your lips graze her neck, pressing light kisses against her pale skin. You feel her arms wrap around your shoulders, fingers rubbing small, encouraging circles on the back of your neck.

“Go ahead.”

She whispers into your ear, sending chills throughout your body. You sigh, sinking into the crook of her neck, running your tongue gently over the skin there, attempting to numb it a little before you hurt her.

Your fangs slip easily from your gums, trailing the flesh until they froze on your girlfriends pulse point, you pull the strap of her top down her shoulder a little, giving you a greater area to work with. She moans quietly as your fangs sink into her skin, breaking into the vein. Her blood flows into your mouth, the warmth soothes the pain of the wound, you wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her up into your lap. She lifts her head up, gasping up at the ceiling as you drink. Her hands trail down your chest to where your wound is, feeling the skin as is twists and knits itself back together. She feels you press further into her throat, your fingers curling around her hips as you attempt to control yourself.

“Y/n”

She mutters, the name barley a whisper through the blur of pain and pleasure. But you hear her, slowly retracting your fangs from her throat before trailing your tongue over the wound. Gathering the blood that had attempted to slip away from you.

“Thank you”

You mutter, barley away from her throat before she grasps your shirt by the scruff and pulls you into a kiss. Her tongue tailing your lips, tasting her own blood in your mouth. She feels the vibration of your moan ripple up your throat as she breaks away, biting down on your neck in return. You close your eyes, feeling her lips suck against your cool skin. Trying hard not to moan in case the others hear-

“Carol, we’re not alone on the ship, remember?”

You manage to force out, missing her touch as she gets up quickly. A sly grin painting her face.

“We’ll finish this when we’re alone then.”

she chuckles, giving a final, desperate kiss to your lips before leaving. Wiping the blood from her neck and leaving you a flustered mess behind her.

(sorry for any spelling mistakes, I did this in The car 😅)

122 notes · View notes

daisymooonart · 2 years

Text

local woman starts flying, more at ten

speedpaint

#i hate how the bottom part looks but fuck it its decent #daisymooon.art #digital art #art #drawn on krita #krita #fanart #digital fanart #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #carol danvers #captain marvel #also figured out some master secrets about drawing planets #its to go batshit and ignore your 4k photo reference

14 notes · View notes

wmarximoff · 2 years

Text

(don't fear) the reaper | w. maximoff

|spooktober collection|

summary: Wanda Maximoff is a troubled young woman, and she knows it very well. she can't help but to want you so badly, in such a sick way, even though you don't even know she exists. driven by curiosity, she decides to enter your house while you are away. but there, she finds something that was not what she expected from someone like you.

warnings (18+): serial killer!reader, stalker!Wanda, graphic depiction of dead body, mentions of dismemberment, smoking, choking, graphic depiction of blood, gun play, knife kink, skin carving, strap-on sex, heavy degradation, manipulation, toxic relationship, bottom!Wanda, top!reader.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 14k

A/N: okay, this one is purely sinful, but it was particularly interesting to write because i'm a bit of a weirdo and i enjoy good psychological horror as much as anyone. i hope you guys like this weird thing as much as i do.

A/N²: turned it into a series!

༺ᱬ༻

The warm sun shone high in the blue sky as the humid dawn began, continuing on until midday at lunchtime. It was a thaw out day, without any cloud to be pointed out in the emergence of the celestial vault, holder of a pure air carried straight from the newly sown vegetation, mild and quite pleasant to the lungs that inspired it. An ideal end to a tranquil morning.

Along that wide space, the less discerning ear might still be able to pick up the vibrating hums that the sets of hundreds of young college students parroted in the midst of their own conversations all held at the end of the university cafeteria, echoing in their own encapsulated lives around you, each one being the protagonist of their own story as the conversations outside the table where you were accompanied by your friends were stimulated, like flies in an impetuous back-and-forth.

Just people, several of them, from all sides, sinking you into an endless hole. People. Lots and lots of people. And then there was you, just sitting there, like a small island lacking in vegetation floating dry in the midst of a sea of people, hovering above them, never sinking below the tide. You, always hovering on high. Looking at them, looking down. Existing on top of them, alongside them, but never on their level. Scrutinizing the huddle of people that didn't even reach your knees.

“And then Natasha just fell, can you believe it? Like, right there! She fell flat on her face and everything in front of everyone like a sack of potatoes, I don't know. It was a pretty bad fall, I swear!”

The blonde girl’s tone, Yelena, had been loud and amused, lively, which prompted a wave of laughter that rippled through the table like a television show—you and her and two more girls and a boy. Laughing like them, mimicking their quip in a rehearsed performance, intricating yourself within the group like a slithering snake.

“Yeah, and like,” went on yet another girl with sun-colored hair cropped short above her ears, a militaristic haircut that accentuated her strong jaw – it was Carol Danvers who was standing right in front of the seat taken over by Yelena, sitting next to you as she always would.

“I didn't even have time to hold her before she fell to the ground. The ball came too fast and she just lost her balance. It was like a cannonball, really.”

Your chin was supplanted by your own right hand, the crook of your elbow then braced on the table, your face bent at an angle of laconic interest to whatever it was that Yelena Belova narrated in Carol's company so impetuously to the audience of their friends sitting around their own dark plastic trays, munching on bits of preservative-infested reheated food.

Maybe it was some childhood story, or maybe even the practice of the softball program that she, the Danvers girl, and Yelena's older sister, Natasha, a student in her final year, all participated together. Just people around you. Faces of people articulating authentic empathies – and you laughed because it was funny, a sign popping up in your brain with the command “laugh”. It should be funny, as funny as a court jester engaging in acts of naughty mischief just to avoid being beheaded at the behest of a pompous medieval king.

“Nebula has a real problem working as a team, man,” Yelena gestured with her own right hand, “Like, she just had to play for Nat–”

“Hey, did you guys hear?” It was, however, Kate Bishop's voice that approached from behind her shoulder, as she placed her tray next to hers on the surface of the long rectangular table, not bothering to get in the way of the golden-haired young lady's speech.

“Heard about what, huh?” Then questioned the other young woman, turning to Kate with an air of irritation, “I was telling a story here you know–”

“Christine is missing.”

Yelena instantly quieted, like a radio unplugged. Both of your eyebrows, however, curled up between your forehead at the profusely dark-haired girl who snuggled close to your left elbow, she nibbling on a withered potato chip, you squinting with your eyes towards your friend's face, turning your face to hers in a quick jerk of your neck that only expressed concern smoldering in your well-behaved body language.

“Wait, what do you mean? Christine? Christine Palmer? That Christine?”

“Yeah,” mussed Kate then, who had drawn the others' attention to herself with her new information brought to the conversation, “That Christine. She disappeared.”

The whiteness of a frosty blanket of snow, which had once made it uniformly carpet the intermittences of the streets of the great city on an excellently smoothed white surface, had liquefied into puddles of itself; the flowers all bloomed to the addition of an avid polychromatic panorama, highlighting the vast green of the Central Park trees encompassed by the expanse of the extensive buildings and the slender poles that protruded from the New York City underground subway.

It was time, then, for the firstfruits of the start of another semester of a particularly boisterous spring, time for sporting events and fundraisers, fraternities organizing reception parties for freshmen.

The sun, gleaming, shimmered in the middle of the clear sky, and, therefore, that was the germination of resplendent spring times, leaning over the glass and concrete that made up the structures of the city – thus, even at dawn, the vast streets of cement and asphalt that were structured in endless chains of cobblestone at the ends of the metropolis were already buzzing with the commercial actions of their energetic residents, true characters moving the machinery of the city that never sleeps.

It was as if the climate of fullness was incapable of suffering any misfortune whatsoever, as if nothing could shake the good mood of a hot season that compelled a daily wear of lighter and shorter clothes, the purchase of popsicles on a stick and cans of sweetened, soft drinks; yet there was Kate serving as a harbinger of doom, announcing to everyone that a classmate of yours had disappeared. A gloomy cloud stooped over the sunniness of that day.

Michelle Jones-Watson, informally nicknamed as just MJ, locked eyes with the young woman who had just arrived at the table in a lavender shirt and dark jeans. You hadn't exchanged many words with her, but like everyone else, keeping her around was just critical to the existence of your public persona.

“Is Christine that senior redhead?” then MJ's gaze fell on your figure across the table, “Isn't she in med class with you, Y/n?”

“She is, yes,” you nodded with a stiff nod, your upper lip jutting out to the damp commission of your lower lip, “She’s one of the best students in our class.”

“But she's not as good as you, I'll bet,” Carol half offered you a gallant smirk, but your eyes rolled slowly enough to allow time for a comical air to bloom in their sockets in a dignified modesty of a cartoon maiden. She was courting you, of course, and you knew that very well – but sometimes ignorance, performative or otherwise, could be a bliss.

“Stop it, she really is one of the best students there! Like, really. The teachers actually like her, you know.”

“But hey, weren't you, like, going out with her?” Peter Parker added back to the initial train of thought, MJ's boyfriend, both of whom held the position of being the youngest in your circle of friends, “You guys kissed at Tony's New Year's party, we all saw that.”

“We've only met a few times at parties last semester," you shrugged like it was nothing, as if this information was nothing more than a stray lint on the collar of your shirt.

“And… well, we slept together once or twice, yeah… but we weren't dating or anything. She's just not really into that sort of thing, I guess.”

“But wait, wait,” Yelena interjected as she furrowed her thick dark brows, then turned them to Kate, “Is Christine that redhead dressed as a nurse who downed those tequila shots with Darcy? How... how’s she missing? Like, she’s just... gone? Just like that, out of the blue?”

“Yeah, what do you mean?” your eyes followed the same path the blonde girl had, turning to your other friend with a big question curling your lips. Your concern was like raising a baby lion in your backyard – feed it, care for it, have fun with it. Pretend that one day it won't grow up and rip your arm off in a vicious bite.

“Where did you hear that? I mean, I've noticed that Christine hasn't been showing up to a few classes lately, but,” and then an incredulous chuckle escaped the back of your throat as you shrugged in a rather confused way.

“Damn, missing? Man, that's kind of... extreme, isn't it? Like there's a crime or some shit like that.”

“Well, that's what I hear,” Kate took another potato chip from the pile strewn across her tray.

“Darcy said she overheard Miss Foster saying something about it during her internship. Apparently Christine has been missing for a week and the dean is really worried about her, but they aren't willing to bring it up until her parents approve of them doing so. I think even the police are involved and everything, there's a whole investigation going on and stuff. The girl disappeared, like, really. Out of nowhere. She’s just… just gone.”

Although the cafeteria was just an amalgamation of alien conversations that mingled in midair, between your friends there was a wintry silence, pairs of eyes exchanging uncertain glances like playing cards; no one knew the joker was in your possession. It was as if there was a dome enclosing all of you inside it – Kate had dictated the rules of an imaginary game, and whoever broke them first would lose. Tension could be felt thickening the air curling inside your throat.

“Nobody disappears out of nowhere,” whispered Peter when no one else did, “You don't think that anyone... that anyone has done anything to her, do you?”

“Damn, so this is serious,” mussed Yelena under her breath, “What the fuck, man...”

“Didn't you talk to her before that, Y/n?” Michelle questioned you, to which you just shook your head in denial.

“No, I didn't talk to her anymore...” and then a sigh of blistering indignant air left both of your nostrils, “Dammit, but can't we do anything? A search party or something? I can't believe the dean is trying to hush up the case – for Christ's sake, a girl is missing and they're not going to do anything about it?! This is so fucked up!”

“Hey, hey, easy there, knight on the white horse,” the palm of Carol's robust right hand, an accomplished jock with an athletic nature, rested on the bone of your left shoulder. She would always be the first to try to soothe your nerves because she hoped to also nurse the unease between your thighs someday.

“Just let the police handle this, okay? Don't go out trying to play vigilante by going around trying to take justice into your own hands, you'll only get in trouble. Plus the girl is a senior, she probably just had an existential crisis and left everything behind or some shit like that. Or even she's just wasted at someone's house around. A lot could have happened to her.”

“Or maybe she just decided to jump off a bridge,” snapped MJ's sardonic humor, her elbows resting against the face of the table at which she received a sharp, chastising look from you, “What?”

“That's not funny, man, she's missing. This is serious.”

But the failed attempt to bring a veil of humor to lighten the mood on the blonde girl's part, even more when interspersed with Michelle's bad joke, did nothing to calm your spirits in front of your other friends, “And no, not her. Not Christine, she wouldn't have done any of that. No… it's not like her to do that kind of thing.”

“You,” called Peter with his bunny brown eyes, “You and her… are you sure you guys weren't dating, Y/n?”

“Yeah, man,” Yelena’s amber gaze then flicked up to your face, emulating a pitiful benevolence that would be solemnly reserved for a widowed person, “Looks like you care a lot about her.”

“No, we're not together, I just…” you pressed your lips together in a long line, “She's missing, and I know her and I'm just worried. Come on guys, any normal person would react like that, what the hell.”

“It's okay, Y/n,” Carol offered you the most indulgent of sweet smiles, “It's totally understandable that you're worried. Fuck, I think at this point we are all a little bit too.”

“Yes,” alleged Kate's voice then, “We're all worried here.”

But in front of the crowd of other discrepant faces, so many students who came and went in their daily lives, being just extras for your main story, there was no way your senses could capture the piercing gaze that religiously looked at you like an eagle does so with a small rabbit in the woods, only seconds before it dives in to sink its claws into its promised prey.

So there would be no way for you to know that as much as you loathed the idea of Carol touching you on the shoulder like that (your smile clearly said don't fucking touch me), someone else in the same room repulsed the sight as much as you did – her head tilted at a broken angle toward the left, jaw clenched tight, both dark brows furrowed over the bridge of her scrunched nose, the knuckles of her fingers turning pale as she presses her fists against the table edges. Don't fucking touch her. If you touch her again I'll rip your hand off, you fucking bitch.

In fact, as far away from her seat in the cafeteria as you were, you were not even aware of the miserable existence of that vibrating need that throbbed within the dark abyss of a pair of emerald irises that accompanied you through the labyrinthine corridors of that university, like a faithful following the commandments of their god.

As if you'd sucked out all the dilated emptiness inside her chest, crammed her back in with a warm sense of stoic belonging, a volcanic beatified devotion to you that even bordered on sick idolatry of a warped mind. Love. A twisted definition of what one could define as love. After all, what would love be if not the most devout of idolatries? She had to know everything about you. She had to take care of what was hers.

Someone always lurking like a shadow that on its own chose to project itself before the light that irradiated around you. That started tingling for you, wanting you so much that there was no turning back. In the sea of people around you, she was the one who was aware that she was beneath you and wanted it to stay that way.

Because once you'd made the gravest of mistakes handing a dropped book to a stranger in the library hallway, offering her the kindliest of welcoming smiles a person could bestow on someone else, and then the crook of your forefinger brushed lightly against the smooth white skin of her hand and suddenly “Wuthering Heights” became her favorite book to read – because you had touched it on its cover when you gave it to Wanda.

“Hey,” your voice had rumbled from behind her shoulders, a girl with long hair of the color of tree bark, and a handful of silver rings spread across the lengths of her slim, slender fingers. Your fingertips marginally touched the fabric of a dark coat that covered her shoulders.

“Hey, excuse me, but you... you dropped this.”

“Oh,” Wanda muted under her breath, her hands slipping in exchange for possession of the book, her fate consolidating into a vibrating red haze smoldering under her skin, “Th-thank you, I… I didn’t notice that I had dropped it.”

“You're welcome,” and then you did it with the corner of your lips, the muscles in your face smoothing into a stunning sobriety, and it was done, it was set in stone; she belonged to you, “But Wuthering Heights, huh. This is a very good read, you know?”

“Is that so?” her attention was caught in a thread of thought – she could hear you elucidating about everything that you could, hours and hours with you in a narrow library hallway, “I never read it before.”

“Yeah,” you stated, always in the figure of such a kind and helpful young woman, “It’s a classic for a reason, right? It's definitely the kind of book I would recommend to someone if they asked me what they should read to feel different emotions at the same time. It's totally a top five actually. I mean, at least it's one of mine.”

And then you blinked carelessly, as appealing and as rehearsed as a Hollywood actress would do so. Wanda wasn't used to getting this much attention from strangers – and for her, that felt good.

“I'm Y/n, by the way,” it was said casually, like bait for a fish in a river. Little did you know that, in fact, what you had captured was a creature as venomous as yourself, “Y/n Y/l/n”.

“I’m Wanda,” she smiled back, a harbinger of the coming end of the world, “Wanda Maximoff.”

“Wanda Maximoff,” you repeated, her name never sounding so beautiful before as turned by your tone of voice, “That's… that’s a really nice name. It suits you.”

Your smile made Wanda's heart pound in a rush of adrenaline against her ribcage, orgasmic and sensual, blistering against her thighs, yet perhaps also romantic and sentimental, affable against her stomach. She fell in love with your so tempting charms – she didn't feel the butterflies, just the voracity of a dizzying urge to completely consume you, to tear you to pieces and feel the heat of your insides. Something about you smothered the hollow void inside Wanda’s chest, made her feel alive again – as long as her life was entirely committed to revolve around you.

You, so oblivious and so ignorant to that predator lurking in the corner, had no idea who Wanda Maximoff would be; you didn't even realize that creature you had awakened from a long hibernation all dormant in her bowels, how many years of hard work from a committed therapist you had brought to the ground, her mental well-being tower collapsing into ruins worthy of a Greek tragedy, burying her down one brick at a time.

But Wanda Maximoff, she did know of your existence. After all, her soul was devoted to you (saliva pooling on the tip of her tongue like a skinny stray dog at a butcher's house). She was just a dreamy little girl who became an immoderate romantic, who only loved pathologically, maybe a little too much. But an unmeasured dose of intensity could always be remedied.

You didn't remember at all about that meeting of realities at the beginning of last semester, when you created the genesis of that persistent germ of a pathetically one-sided symbiotic relationship entwined between the two extremes that were you and Wanda, respectively. But your smile carved an open and exposed fissure inside the lungs of that girl who could only breathe if it was the oxygen that had previously been filtered through your own bronchi. You've given a new meaning to her quiet psychology student life.

After all, you've given her the book she might as well have left behind and forgotten, just another banal event, something virtuously commonplace and unimportant. But it was the best book Wanda had ever had the pleasure of reading in her life (Cathy and Heathcliff hopelessly being a couple of degenerates viscerally obsessed with each other to the grave), and all of that because of you. That was undeniable proof that she just needed you.

She didn't need her father who confined her to a psych ward when she was younger (when she was accused of loving too much another young lady in high school who kind of didn't want her around), or the twin brother whom she no longer exchanged a word with after that said incident. In Wanda's life, since that cataclysmic day branded on her skin like a hot iron, the only gap left was the hole she'd dug in the shape of you to fill in her own chest.

ᗢ

A slow zephyr of warm air shimmered through the strands of Wanda's dark hair, swinging her locks behind her ears like flags on a long pole. That long Manhattan street in a late afternoon, interspersed with a stone landscape of tall townhouses, carried with it a blissful aspect in its structures and, certainly, even a little threatening to the glances of the less fortunate. Everything there screamed refinement, pomposity, latent ostentation – the smell of rich people in the air (woody perfumes with a scent of gold).

It was a handful of long houses that encompassed the entire residential block, which were slightly tapered from the street in openings in round, heavy, asymmetrical arches, in a residential style whose architecture alluded to the revival of the English Romantic movement; buildings clad in red brick trimmed with rough stone and smooth terracotta, with rustic wood accents and slate tiles.

The house that Wanda's eyes gazed at with exciting fervor was your dwelling – a faithful one about to force her way onto the hallowed ground of the temple of salutation to her god, an estate acquired by the vast capital of your parents who were a couple of retired surgeons (Wanda dig up this on your social media that she fervently rummaged through each post and comment, sifting through every picture, until she discovered that your family was particularly wealthy and that you attended boarding school in upper state until you get your high school diploma, always doing it with great mastery).

Two floors that looked out with three rows of windows flattened on the inside by the thick fabric of long pastel-toned curtains, which appeared like a waterfall over the panes arranged towards the sidewalk, to the life outside. A house with an imposing facade, but not enough to be frightening. It was kind of left on the edge of the seat, as if the really scary part was the unknown that was imminent inside those walls.

Your home, where you went to rest and take your time before the start of another new day—two or three days of quietly tracking you down, like a silent disease, were enough for Wanda to carve your address into her memory, and never allow herself to forget it. She might as well tattoo it on her own pale forearm if need be, and she wouldn't even have a problem doing it at all. She did for love, after all. She did it for you.

A silver car passed with its wheels skidding on the asphalt. Wanda's palms sweated as she moved the kneecap of her right knee, hidden inside a tall dark sock, so that she was crossing the street with her chin turning left and right, swinging with her hands long strands of rich coffee color that slipped down the line of her pale pretty face.

And then green eyes looked up to the windows of your house that grew above her head, stopping the footsteps of heavy boots strapped to her ankles in the front door. Wanda snorted, her chest rising and falling heavily, a smile tugging at the corner of her rosy lips against the dark wood. She might as well break down in tears right there. So close – so treacherously, lusciously close. She's never been this close. Wanda knew you weren't home because she knew all about you.

“Hiya, hon! What are you doing there?” called a ringing voice from behind her shoulders, a high-pitched tone that icy climbed the length of her spine.

Startled was the muscle in her right forearm that had crept into her cross-strap messenger bag diagonally across her chest, shrewd fingertips searching for silver tweezers and an aluminum clip.

Turning slowly with the curve of her chin over her right shoulder as if in a horror movie scene where one is faced with a lurking beast, Wanda was greeted by a wide pearly-white smile from a thin-nosed woman already bordering on her in her late forties, dressed in running gear with thick brown hair pulled back in a high ponytail that swung back from her head. Wanda blinked once at her.

“Who are you?” she tilted her head a little to the side, eyes wide and dark like a deer caught in the headlights of a car on a dim road. Ice-cold sweat pooled Wanda's palms, which drooped close to the hem of her black miniskirt.

“Who are you?” returned the older woman standing on the sidewalk, just a few steps away from her. She had a superfluously high, saucy voice, a bit like a macaw, maybe like a enchantingly hot witch.

The tone had been a little sharper than her grin seemed to plan it to be, which is why the woman soon tried to narrow her blue eyes, as if to assuage her onslaught.

“I'm Miss Harkness, dear, but you can call me Agatha. I live right next door – to my left, not yours,” and then there was a long, loud laugh that Wanda, still so ecstatic, didn't follow at all, “I've known the young woman who's lived here since she moved in, but I never saw you around here...?”

“Oh, L-Liz,” the feign name slipped like water out of Wanda's lips pressed together in a rough, uncertain lie, almost even a high-pitched question, “It's Liz. Lizzie.”

“Lizzie,” Agatha repeated, as if to savor the veracity of the information inside her own mouth, “Well, what are you doing there, Lizzie? Do you have a problem? Need some help, sweetie?”

“I–I,” Wanda swallowed the spittle that pooled on the back of her tongue with a hard jerk, like a ball of concrete scraping down the inside of a plastic pipe, “I—I'm Y/n's friend from college. She asked me to... to come get something for her while she's at her tennis practice.”

A second of silence tore the tension between the green gaze that was pinned from afar by the blue gaze. The other woman's sharp eyebrows rose in practical acknowledgment – after all, you were indeed a casual racquet sporter, and you always told your neighbor that you did it to keep your own body fit and healthy. Wanda only wished that nosy neighbor was swayable enough to buckle under her scattering, but Miss Harkness didn't seem like an easy egg to crack.

“Oh, I see…” Agatha muttered under her breath, in a tone that seemed intrinsic to a hunch that prompted a brief frown on Wanda's part.

“Y/n is always having the company of some, um, friends... of hers around. I mean, a young stud like that, attending med school in her prime... she strikes me as the very popular college type, huh. Geez, I wish I had studied with her back in my day, I won't lie to you, hon. If you know what I mean.”

Again the older woman laughed, throwing her head back, her ponytail swinging – and again Wanda didn't follow, a smoldering repugnance seeping into her bones, scarlet vapor rising its way to her larynx, the veins bristling, the tree of possessiveness branching off from a bad seed planted inside her chest (don't you dare talk about Y/n like that, you old fucking rag).

“Oh, but don't let me hold you back, Lizzie dear, I bet you need to get ready for tonight,” Agatha smiled with an odd glow, “Well, I'll be right next door if you need me for anything. Have fun, honey. Some of us have to, don't we?”

“Right…”

If Wanda could, she would have split Agatha's head open with a sharp axe; bits of brain mass and cracked bone littering your front door.

ᗢ

“Y/n...”

Wanda lay languid, transverse in your king size bed. White sheets touched her skin just below her back. Emerald irises were hidden behind closed eyelids, lashes closed, mouth half-open where moans trickled down like raindrops. The shrewd walls of your bedroom were the witnesses of that body, naked and of abandoned modesty, far from any prying eyes she was aware of, away from every judicious mind bent on condemning her actions.

Finding your bedroom on the top floor had not been at all a difficult activity after a tourist-oriented excursion unrolled through the walls of your home, Wanda's fingertips slithering lethargically over the surface of the exquisite furniture – your wardrobe filled with neatly folded clothes and pressed shirts, your bathroom with your favorite perfume whose Wanda promptly slipped the bottle into her bag, your dirty clothes discarded into an open-lid basket. She couldn't contain her sharp nerves at the sight of one of your worn panties.

Wanda then found herself free of all shame, but adorned by the secrecy of an unbuttoned soft silk shirt of yours that wore her body, smelling like you. Your sheets, your pillowcase, your shirt – everything smelled like you. It was as if a flood of yours had swamped Wanda's senses, submerging her in a bubble of you. As if you were on top of her, inside her, everywhere around her. Her hands skimmed over her pearly body, advancing slyly along the line of her belly, teasing herself at what traced the elastic of her panties.

The nerve bundles of her muscles were taut and dense as curious fingers ventured along the edge of her stomach, staying in the body band where her torso ended, gliding along the slit that determined the start of her smooth thighs.

A thin moan escaped the pulps of her lips as Wanda's hand finally touched the length of her pleasure, finding a wet meeting to lean on. She fantasized that it would be you there, the cheek of your thumbs pressing against the sensitive skin of her thighs as you spread them apart so that you could cup the bridge of your nose there and sip what she had to offer you.

“Y/n, please... p-please...”

A finger, shy and cautious, exploring avidly, ran the length of her moist lips, pouring into them in a long descent, capturing some of her sap that had escaped around it, returning to a slow rise in search of her center in flames. Bending to her own will, a victim of her own actions, she found herself stretching out her slender, alabaster-skinned thighs. Touch me, Y/n. Make me yours.

Her silken back arched eagerly at the mercy of the flooding pleasure that spread in quivering waves through her limbs. The hand, which until that moment had not dared to make a move, approached boldly the pale mounds that were her breasts, seeking the nipples that, like petunias, had opened in swellings from the redundant heat that enveloped them.

The delicate tip of her own finger slid over the soft skin of the areola, inching toward the turgid nipple, capturing it in a gentle grip, stimulating the senses, heightening the pleasure. Wanda's upper teeth dug into the outline of her lower lip.

“Fuck…”

A second finger took its place inside her, reaching for the heat of the skin in relief, and she moved boldly back and forth, still testing, experiencing the paroxysm that only the apogee of climax could provide. It was then that the green eyes opened, revealing the button-dark pupils, deep as a river, dilated with the specter of lust.

“F-fuck, fuck! Fuck me, Y/n, fuck me! Fuck me harder! Ah-!”

The splendor of orgasm peaked at its epicenter. Her back was arched, her legs closed around her own hand, pressing insistently to the center of her spread body, enclosing the crook of her own wrist between the hollow of her groin. The inner walls of her intimacy opened and closed in a symbiosis synchronous with the bursts of pleasure that bombarded her internal organs. Just a few seconds, a few glorious seconds of pure pleasure dissolved around her own fingers. One of several orgasms wrested from her in honor of you.

Wanda felt her body melt under the action of a terribly agonizing act; her heart pounding against her ribcage, clouding her mind, descending to her stomach in a trail of fire. Her breath hitched for a few moments, coming in harder as the orgasm ceased, causing her chest to rise and fall frantically.

On her lips, a name that she ended up whispering to the one that escaped her control (as so much more besides this one had done during the peak of her orgasm), while her tense body eased against the mattress extensions.

“I love you, Y/n... I love you... I fucking love you...”

But it was at the latest, however, with her curious eyes scrutinizing and dissecting every measly element that made up the layout of your bedroom arrangements—the books crammed in long rows on the shelves of your bookshelf (the sight of an edition of Wuthering Heights had made her beam delightfully like a child in a candy store, as in an inside joke between you and her), the notes on sticky note paper on your desk in exquisite cursive handwriting, the thin television screwed to the pale wall erected directly in front of your bed—that Wanda’s attention was magnetized to a tiny silhouette on a shelf at the top of your wardrobe.

Wanda looked the box up and down and curiosity got the better of her. A small, polished, dark wooden box, perfectly square, that the tips of her right fingers skidded for after she stretched out her shins and elbow to grope blindly up there, standing on tiptoe to do so.

Something in Wanda cried out in interested inquisitiveness when it was that she deposited the little box on the floor just in front of the wardrobe and, sinking down on her bare knees (since all that covered her slender body was a pair of dark panties and your silk shirt unbuttoned across her chest), she curved her spine in front of the quadrilateral container, elbows bent so her fingertips brushed and lifted the lid. Her brow creased in an irresolutely astonished manner.

“Oh…”

Driver's licenses. Wanda blinked, trying to figure out what it was that lay before her like unearthed treasure. You had a box full of driver's licenses tucked at the top of your wardrobe, slipped away from the eyes of other visitants who wouldn't be as wary as Wanda's – a veritable gathering of names and faces, all dealing with other female figures, like a gallery with tiny souvenirs that alluded to encounters that have already passed through your lifetime.

The frivolous lace effigies of young women approaching her age gazed at her with excruciating stares, their busts ridged in dozens of small laminated cards like the cards in a boardgame. It was like you collected young college girls – she knew all about your gathering nature, after all. Wanda needed to see them up close; she desired to comprehend them, to know who they were, and what they did in your room, so close to you. The reason you wanted them there with you.

The first one whose jadish eyes evaluated, the fingertips of her right hand slipping a lock of dark-brown hair behind the shell of her ear while the other hand held the small card near the tip of her nose, was Jennifer Walters's document followed by Hope Van Dyne’s, Maria Hill and Laura Barton and then Elizabeth Ross, Virginia Potts, Daisy Johnson, Karolina Dean and Christine Palmer, and then a dozen more names and faces that Wanda didn't bother to distinguish from the rest of them.

Some of the young girls there sounded familiar to Wanda's remembered cognitions, others could never be more than just foreign figures. The count would be no more than a stipulated enumeration of around forty-five names, but it wouldn't be an inferior calculation to the number thirty either. Wanda counted to the number thirty-seven before closing the lid of the box again, and even then there were still a few more names missing to complete the whole.

She blinked once, looking down at the wood box placed between her spread thighs, just trying to understand. And then she wondered why her name wasn't inside that box too. Was she not interesting enough? Did she not meet your parameters? Maybe you didn't want her name there with the others for a reason. Maybe it had to do with Christine Palmer's decapitated head that she found inside your fridge a few hours ago.

ᗢ

The late afternoon sun had set for its idleness set behind the concrete buildings in the distance, making for a bright cease to that particularly warm evening. White glow from the streetlights streamed in through the high paneled windows of the townhouses down the block, casting pale artificial stains on the affluent fullness of the prosperous Upper Manhattan.

Your biceps muscles were fatigued from a long afternoon hitting and bouncing rubber balls when you turned off your car's ignition and unbuckled your seat belt, pushing it away with your elbow.

A line of pale windows contributed with its share of mystery to the casual observer who passed through the streets that little by little fell into the spills in pools of synthetic light, the pale facades gleamed like light bronze, giving the mansions an air of wealth and of pride; and you always wondered, looking up and fantasizing, what went on behind those windows. One would unquestionably be surprised to know what was going on behind your own curtains, anyway.

However, it was in front of your own residence as you got out of the parked car – your right digits searching inside the cross bag in the middle of your chest for your set of keys – that Miss Harkness, your nosey neighbor, opened the bright door of her own house to greet you with a plastic smile on her long face, wearing the skimpy-length clothes that she always tended to tuck in when being around you (particularly on late Wednesday afternoons like that, when you showed up in your tennis clothes and Agatha tried to take advantage of your bare legs).

“Good afternoon, cupcake,” smiled your luscious, chocolate-colored hair neighbor dressed in very short white shorts, “Or would it be good night already? I'm never sure, this time of day is always so vague...”

“I think it's good night by now, Miss Harkness,” was your reply in an almost machine-friendly, rehearsed tone that might well be controversial if it came from someone lacking a smile as captivating as your own.

“Oh yes, good night,” Agatha's right shoulder slumped over her own doorframe, her breasts tucked into a teenage-type tank top, her thin lips covered in a slim layer of glossy chapstick, “So, hot stuff, how is that little friend of yours doing?”

“My… little friend...?” your hand flinched from searching the inside of your bag, your brow creasing at the figure of the older woman with piercing sapphire eyes, hungry like a wolf for new information she could glean from your own personal life.

“Yeah, that pretty girl with those big green eyes, kinda dressed like an edgy teenager, um, Liz… Lizzie, isn't it? Yes, Lizzie,” Agatha's lips pursed into an embellished, deceitfully thoughtful pout, “The one who came to drop you something earlier. Or to grab something for you, I don't know. You know, honey, your... friend from college.”

You frowned even more at the figure of your neighbor, your lips curled in an intemperate way, your countenance almost distorting so that your social mask would eject from the folds of your facial muscles, revealing to Agatha a portion of a feature she wouldn't need to see. A shiver running down your spine from the back of your neck alerted you that something was wrong.

Your friends weren't regulars at your house and you, in fact, didn't know any girl named Lizzie (or any derivative that was of that name just so strange to your ears when mixed with physical characteristics which you couldn't assimilate with the description of a girl unknown, offered to you by Agatha).

“She… L-Lizzie,” a hesitant, thoughtful second passed, “She… was she here? Did she enter my house? Has she been inside?” You shrugged, on an impulse of marine fearlessness that went somewhat unnoticed by Miss Harkness's unshakable smile.

“Yeah, but I haven't actually seen her leave yet,” your neighbor singsong, and then offered you a peculiar smirk imbued with a meaning you played ignorant to, “Maybe she's waiting for you, huh, heartbreaker? Tonight will be a long one, right?”

Saliva choked in your mouth. The blood coursing through your veins cooled – terror climbing the length of your esophagus, hands trembling along the length of the single strap of your bag, and “Fuck” was what you swore under your breath, your mind already in a far cry from the exaggerated figure of Agatha standing there, next door to yours. It only took a few seconds for you to slip your key into the metal lock.

“Well, honey, if you girls need anything—” but the front door to your house closed before the over-the-top Miss Harkness could even finish her own rehearsed sentence.

The entrance hall was sinisterly dim after the door closed behind you. The room was a little appalling, and in such a way, it also had a watery atmosphere that gave birth to an opalescent darkness, swamped by a deluge of empty, sharp silence.

You could well hear your own breath rising and falling if you took the trouble to do so; it was like hunting in the dusky depths of a forest, your senses heightened within your own home, into the profundities of your own sanctuary where you should once have felt at peace and at ease.

The ghostly atmosphere inside the room was lazy, cloudy, and perhaps partially dead. The simple mirror right next to the entrance door was frosted over because of a layer of light that had ended up beguiling its translucent face, and in it, amorphous and weird images that led nowhere were created.

Walking around in leisurely strides in your athletic shoes, the opaque structure of the house was lit only by the silvery light of the leafy moon that had just risen to the top of the cinertian sky outside the two-story house, which affected the furniture set back by the hulking panes of glass constricted, pale light sneaking through the always closed curtains (no one would need to know what was happening behind them), causing, in the environment, an adventitious platinum-blue coloration somewhat withered, which there was no way to be something common and ordinary.

Nothing seemed out of place, but you could tell it felt outlandish, atypical even, as if someone had broken through the sacred layer of peace of mind that used to wash over your home. Your privacy had been invaded.

Rounding the kitchen island, you went to the tall fridge and opened it with a quick flick of your right elbow, a pale shaft of light breaking through the eerie darkness that tapered the spacious room. And then you allowed yourself to lift the air out of your constricted lungs. She was still there, well preserved by the ice that wouldn't melt. A warm sigh escaped between your parted lips – icy sweat starting to form a thin layer on the back of your neck.

The vacant eyes of Christine Palmer's dead head stared back at you as if begging you to give her a dignified end; only to say that your last capture was still where you'd left it, half lying on its side on the last shelf, close by a set of sweaty water bottles, so far from the rest of her other severed limbs, you just reassured yourself of the fact that she still belonged to you.

But above your own head, a tiny sound of movement piqued your sharp ears, immediately drawing your sharp attention because you soon realized that some unexpected visitor was still in the house. Then your gaze dropped to that piece of dead flesh with hair dyed a vivid red like crayons. It was certain that Christine would soon have a companion for her icy storage.

Your predatory instincts lashed into her temples, and a rush of adrenaline coursing through your despondent system, as both of your shrewd hands plunged once more into your crossbody bag, in a silent warm grip on the part of your nimble fingers, you searched for something metallic cool to the touch, whereupon you drew out a small, heavy, iron-fuse revolver with a short barrel.

The gun has always been around since your clueless parents came to believe faithfully that a young girl should defend herself from the predators of the far reaches of the world in the alleys of the big city, and even though you never actually fired a projectile, the miserable threat of doing so used to be enough to get what you wanted. After all, if there was going to be a predator, that degenerate figure would have to be you.

You followed, then, with the lightest and most silent studious strides, down a small corridor of bare and soiled floors, up the red oak steps of the straight stairs that led to another compendious rectangular corridor carrying very little furniture, the last door being the one at the entrance to your large bedroom. You couldn't ignore the ominous tension that seemed to hang through the air, mixed with oxygen, like a heavy fog.

Being high above the kitchen, the hallway was provided with a flickering luminescence from the lights outside the house that did not lighten the walls or ceiling either, with a wooden door at its front end, and two smoky windows separated by diameter of a head on your left.

Between the door and the floor, a crack the thickness of a pen was formed, and from there, a beam of white light was regurgitated, announcing the existence of someone inside the private room that was your bedroom. Adrenaline throbbed through your ruffled veins as the extensions of your left fingers then touched the frigid silver doorknob. You took a deep breath before opening the door, holding the barrel of the gun right in front of your torso.

“Don't fucking move.”

There was something lurid in the speech that came from behind her shoulder – something ominous, something from the depths of another world, a parallel reality. Gone was all the tenderness of your existence, for you, at that moment, were nothing more than a parody of that fake social persona of yours; appearances were turned to dust, and there was no longer any need to emulate the benevolence of the human creature you could never be.

A shiver made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck curl as she sat on the floor in front of the box, an icy breath spraying from her nostrils.

The silver material of a revolver flashed a beam of artificial light toward the emerald eyes as it was when Wanda turned and you harpooned, with a flick of your wrist, the weapon in front of the open door to the bedroom, the fierce barrel aimed straight ahead the middle of her forehead. Wanda blinked once in your direction, her jadish eyes acquiescing to the situation, understanding what was happening there, what it was that unfolded before her.

It was you. In front of her, in the same room as her, addressing her directly as you had in the library last semester. You. You.

You looked different with that hideous darkness corrupting the ever-present indulgence in your gaze, but either way it was you – the real vision of what you would be, that wild animal she would gladly let devour her completely, from the inside out, consuming her insides in splashes of warm blood. The creature had crept out of the cracks of your good girl performance, and only violence could be aimed at the void of your pupils.

“Y/n...” Wanda whimpered almost into a sweet sigh, her chest heaving with fiery contentment, dropped to her knees and as submissive as she was there in your room, “Y/n, you're here... you're here...”

“Who the fuck are you?” Your tone had been impassive, and something in Wanda had sunk completely, a painful twinge brushing the middle of her chest, “Are you–are you wearing my shirt…?”

“Y/n,” she half-cried on her knees in front of you, dark brows furrowing, “Don't you remember me? From the library...? We– we met last semester. You told me to read Wuthering Heights, it was one of your favorites–”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Wanda blinked once in mistrust with her dark-green eyes, completely disbelieving in her spirit at the words she had heard leave her lover's lips that hit her like clenched fists in the stomach and ribs. She remembered you, so you would have to remember her too; there would be reciprocity in fantasy, there would be love in unilateralism, there would have to be love and love in particular would have to be mutual.

Even though Wanda knew that physiologically a creature like you was lacking in the ability to love – as a good psychology student she had diagnosed you, she knew your pathologies, and like a good maniac, she just knew everything about the person that she treasured so dearly. But there would be no science that could explain Wanda's need for more and more of you. After all, you were Cathy and Heathclilff, not Elizabeth and Darcy.

The calloused emptiness of the barrel of the revolver was like a vortex that dispossessed her soul from her body, but Wanda couldn't care less about the gun pointed at her mideyebrow as her heartstrings tightened—the pain of lack of recognition in your eyes before her supplanted the idea that a flick of your finger would be enough for the insides of her skull to stick to the floor of your bedroom.

“I saw you in the library, Y/n,” she tried again, exasperated by the unrequited love, “Last semester...you smiled at me and said that was a great book...”

But then there was a glimmer of hope to warm the kneeling young woman's spirits – your gaze raked over Wanda's sharp, pretty features, and after a good long minute had at her chest area (her pale breasts partially exposed in front of her skimpy white silk shirt unbuttoned, the gap between them descending to a milky abdomen just as appetizing to the touch), a string tugged at your memory and a shrewd realization slipped behind your brain, bringing back the day you decided not to murder that library girl because it was fun to play with the idea that her life hung by a thread, and she never knew that.

Like a puppeteer operating the strings of life around you, Wanda was only there, on her knees in your bedroom, because you wanted to revel in the idea that her life was in the palm of your hands and, as a deity (or least holding the power of such), you resolved to spare her for only a base and simple whim of yours.

“Oh, wait… wait, I remember you…” slipped out of your lips, the gun still gripped tightly in your right hand, “W… Wanda, yeah. Your name is Wanda.”

“Yes,” the answer was immediate, almost a high-pitched, smiling yelp, emerald green shimmering into her lepidopteran lashes, “Wanda Maximoff. You remembered me...”

“Wanda Maximoff, the library girl, huh… fuck, what are you doing here? It's been so long...” you muttered to yourself, “Wait, don't tell me you're a goddamn stalker or something like that. Home invasion is a crime, did you know that? You can go to jail if I call the police. Is that what you want, Wanda? That I call the police?”

She looked down at you with a predatory gaze, as if she was going to rip your jugular apart with her own teeth. It caught you off guard, in fact, for you had never seen this emptiness darken someone else's gaze before.

“There's a girl's head in your fridge, Y/n,” Wanda countered, an amused smile then breaking at the corners of her rosy lips, doe eyes looking you up and down, two animals of similar species recognizing each other in an uninterrupted cadence of sickly stares, “You're not going to call the police.”

It was a challenge thrown up in the air, because she was bold and could just push your buttons until she knew you fully, unfolded you beneath her fingertips; Wanda relished the moment because she just knew that no one alive knew you like that – that side of you, that butcher look of yours. It was the only connection she had with you slowly growing stronger.

“Pff, of course I'm not going to call the fucking police, I'm not an idiot,” and you took a step closer to her, invading her personal space, the barrel of the gun so cold against the pale skin of her forehead.

“But I could just pull that trigger, couldn't I? Or maybe rip your pretty neck off and put your head next to hers and the matter would be over, wouldn't it? I can do many things with you, Wanda. I can hurt you. I can break you. I can kill you.”

“You,” Wanda snorted, pupils dark and dilated into an abyss of greenish doom, “Do you really think my neck is pretty?”

A lame chuckle escaped in disbelief between your nostrils – she was practically salivating like a dog (a beautiful bitch in heat, the insides of her thighs sticky), and something about you liked that. Really liked that.

“Fuck, you've got to be kidding me. Was that all you understood from what I told you? I literally threatened to kill you, Wanda. Shit, pretty girl… you're a sick bitch, you know that? There's something very wrong going on inside your head.”

“No,” Wanda muttered, her gaze misting into her excited irises, her nerves fraying at the compliment that couldn't be missed, “I… I love you, Y/n. I just… I just love you so much.”

“Oh, you love me, do you?" It was then that you sort of chuckled in derision, shaking your head in sardonic disdain – an act laced with haughtiness and condescension that made Wanda's heart flutter against her rib cage.

“I love you,” she nodded in an almost desperate, justified affirmation, “I really love you so much, I love you so much, Y/n, I just need you. I don't care about the rest or what you did to them, I... I just need you. I really need you. Your real self.”

“Damn,” you knelt before her, the gun still pointed firmly at Wanda's forehead, the sweet scent of her dry shampoo soothing against your nostrils, her firm features even more stunning when viewed up close, “You're crazy. Like, really crazy. Totally insane.”

“It takes a madman to recognize the other,” she mussed back, enjoying this game of cat and mouse as much as you, the distance between you less than a foot, “And you killed those girls.”

“And yet you're begging me to fuck you with your eyes even though you know I killed those girls. Which one of us is the worst, huh?”

“Well,” Wanda smirked like a broken doll, “I'm not the one who dismembers my classmates here. I’m just in love. I just… I just fell in love with you, Y/n. But... it makes no difference to me how bad you can be sometimes, or what you do to other people. You're everything to me. I love you just the way you are.”

“No, Wanda, you don’t,” you whispered, “Really, you have no idea who I really am, and… I don't think you'd like what you might find.”

“Try me,” her chin tilted to the left, towards her collarbone. You frowned for a while; she was not afraid. She was uniquely interested.

Your gazes swallowed each other in midair, one striving to comprehend, to unwrap the other, to make the other give in to the oppression of their own wills. You wanted to break her, but she was already broken, and she longed for you to break herself even more; the two of you on the edge, waiting for the last push for one to fall and take the other with them to the bottom of that precipice. You haven't had this much fun in a while.

“Fuck, at least I'm not a desperate mutt like you, though... you're a perv, Wanda. A fucking weirdo, a stalker who broke into my house, found out about my, um, hobby, and yet you still stayed here until I arrived... and all while wearing my shirt? Look at you, I bet you were touching yourself like a bitch in heat before I arrived.”

Your gaze dropped to her pale, exposed thighs.

“You're such a creep, pretty girl. Honestly, if anything, it's kinda pathetic. But, hey,” the barrel of the revolver then lowered until it skimmed the pulp of Wanda's lips, and a devilishly smile broke into the corner of your mouth, “I had a great idea just now. If you do really love me as much as you say you do… how about you prove to me how much you need me, huh, Wanda? Prove your love to me. Open your pretty mouth.”

And then she stuck her tongue out of her pearly lips, as receptive as she could be. Wanda smeared the icy metal of the revolver's short barrel with a string of thick spit, a circle of vulpine pink tongue licking the outline of the gun wedged between the thumb and bent forefinger of your right hand.

Moving with your wrist, you soon proceeded to shove the gun deep into Wanda's open mouth, translucent spittle running from the corner of her lips to the contour of her lovely chin when it was that gagging whines coiled from the back of her throat.

“Look at you...” you mussed, your eyes never leaving the drooling figure of the girl in front of you, “Give me a show, slut. Breathe through your nose, just like that.”

Wanda moaned softly as she screwed her plump puffy lips onto the barrel of the revolver that only went down her throat until you decided to pull it out, puckering the length of her mouth as if she were planting a kiss on the cheek of a lollipop, releasing it with a hollow sound, a loud and purposefully audible metal-flavored pop, droplets of saliva pouring up her pale, bare thighs.

“I,” she sighed, her jaw tightening, the saliva pooling in bubbles at the corners of her mouth, “Did I… did I do well?”

“Oh, you did great, Wanda. You did it like the little bitch that I know that you are.”

With sly hooded eyes clouded by tears pooling in her dark lashes, Wanda saw you stare at her with obscure eyes of desire and mouth aflame with craving, and she smirked, sideways, like a prize girl with lust on her slobbered lips, addicted to something rotten inside you.

“I bet you're wet as fuck right now. You're loving every second of it, aren't you? You really are sick. But hold still, you whore,” you decreed to her in a harsh, bestial voice, “Or I fucking kill you.”

You then touched the barrel soaked in glistening saliva against the hard bone of Wanda's sternum, through the valley of firm, rosy breasts, in a poignantly lethargic motion pouring through the bristling skin toward the south of her body, leaving a trail behind of icy drool that made shiver the baby hairs from the back of her neck. Her rib cage rose and fell heavily, her nails adorned with matte black nail polish digging like razors into her shaggy skin, just waiting, just hoping for more.

The pit of Wanda's stomach constricted inside her abdomen when, after circling her navel cavity, you lowered the gun to the waistband of her dark panties, stopping dangerously close to the place where she craved your touch, the slackening of her thirsts that only you were the only one able to heal. You could even hear her instable breath echoing through the walls of the silent bedroom.

“Do you want me to touch you here, Wanda?” you snorted, her cheeks taking on sickly scarlet crimson intonations, “You want this, don't you? It's what you've been wanting all this time – for me to ruin that slutty cunt of yours. God, you're so predictable...”

“P-please,” Wanda whimpered in a needy gasp, her chin wet with an amalgamation of pale tears with thick saliva, her brows twitching so that a pained look settled on her heaving features, “P-please, Y/n, please touch me, touch me there, please– argh!”

The palm of your left hand closed against the outline of Wanda's pulsing jugular damp in sticking hot sweat, five fingers screwing tight into the pale skin as in a hard jolt you brought her face closer to yours – purposefully brushing the gun against the wetness of the garment of the other girl that only grew between her legs, pushing her throbbing clit against the barrel of the revolver, a very heavy change in the rhythm of her breathing.

She was just a sweaty, drooling mess, moaning aloud, and you found yourself to be a great appreciator of the pathetic state of mind in which Wanda was apt to submit to you and your sadistic whims.

“You're perfect,” something vile in you snatched from her tears, the ever-fast movement between Wanda's hips, the insides of her sticky thighs swallowing your wrist, “You're perfect for me, Wanda. You’re my perfect girl. I knew there had to be some reason I hadn't gutted you that day.”

“I am,” she whimpered back, her hips tense, “I'm your perfect girl, Y/n. I can be anything you want me to be.”

“Well, I think I know what I want you to be,” you hissed in lewd intonation, the tip of your nose almost touching her crimson-tinged cheekbone, “I want you to be my whore.”

Wanda gasped against your chronic staining grip on her neck. It was like you wanted to kill her and eat her right there. And then, the distastefulness of the metal darted through your lips as you took her saliva for yourself to taste, pressing your strangled tongue against the gap between Wanda's teeth, discharging into your mouth a metallic, foul, jarring taste when the two of you shared a needy kiss, almost as if you were a ravenous beast devouring a still-warm carcass.

The metallic taste stemmed by blood from her split lip was no longer just something from the gun you made Wanda suck on. And her tears of pleasure gave way to tears of genuine, unhinged exhilaration in a frightened and frantic ecstasy, for you were kissing her, you were consummating her.

You, however, between mutters and yelps, increased the pressure on her little bundle of nerves through Wanda’s damned garment in a speedy torture, only to see her writhe above your revolver and groan in uncertain verbiage, libertines and so stupidly discordant with each other.

“I owe you now. You’re mine. You’re mine to break, Wanda. You're mine to do whatever I want to, and I bet you don't even care if I do. Seriously, you're just pathetic.”

“I love you, Y/n,” tussled Wanda then in a tiny, drooling yelp, snorting against your parted mouth, “I–I love you, I love you, I love you, I–I love you, I love you, I love you–”

It didn't take long for the emerald-eyed girl's body to stiffen in front of you, splintering intoxicatingly as her eyes squeezed into tearful lines and Wanda's brow furrowed into a painful scrunch of skin. She squeaked in a funneled scream, low in pitch and melting.

And, feeling the characteristic sting of orgasm poke her lower belly, Wanda went down and up against the barrel of the gun for a few seconds until, in total frenzy, she felt the world around her go out, spewing through her throbbing entrance a wet trickle of warm cum that covered the entire length of the revolver, even though she was still wearing a thin underwear to cover her rosy, puffy cunt.

With her head weighing more than the rest of her body, Wanda fell forward, falling gasping with her forehead against the bone of your right shoulder, her chest heaving in and out with impressive weight. And then she snuggled against you, against your neck, as if you were a couple who had just fallen in love with each other, and not a duo of animals drawing blood from your flesh. But you held her. For a moment, you just held like you've known her for longer than you could count.

You then took a good look at her, the sweaty girl slumped against your very white polo shirt, wearing in her figure a silky shirt that she had stolen from within your wardrobe. Her silhouette, the perfect nose, the round, rosy lips, the firm cheekbone, the thick eyelashes – Wanda Maximoff was a beautiful young woman indeed. A nice prize, like a puppy, a pet. Something worth keeping around for a while.

“I love you, Y/n,” Wanda exhaled tenderly against the collar of your shirt, her warm breath brushing the bare skin of your neck, “I really love you…”

You licked the tip of your tongue at the metallic layer of Wanda's blood pooling at the pulp of your lips, “You're mine now, pretty girl,” was a murmur against her dark hair, “And I won't let you get away anytime soon.”

ᗢ

The world moved in an ecstatic frenzy when you were around her, spiraling into a frantic, dizzying cataclysm, dangerous as a dynamite fuse in a short flame; Wanda would soon put you on fire. It was as if something sick in her needed you to explode and for the blast's radius to consume her along with you, turning the two of you to dust together. It took about less than a full month for Wanda to become, then, your permanent companion within the walls of your home. You two were living together.

Normalcy was mostly covert (her toothbrush next to yours suddenly felt like a tremendous breach of privacy, as if she hadn't previously invaded your house), a self-righteous sobriety, because watching her cook European dishes humming through your kitchen while there was a severed human head in the fridge instilled a kind of fascination in you.

“You need to eat better, Y/n,” she'd said on one particular night, her hips nestled against your hips on the cream-colored sofa in the living room, a fork with a fresh strawberry on a skewer being offered to you, “Let me take care of you, baby.”

The world seen in the light of Wanda's gaze could be of a bizarre appreciation that urged you to keep her close to you.

Navigating through the ups and downs like any other official couple you could find walking hand in hand in the world out there, in the meantime you've noticed her as much as you could in such a narrow window of time; even though Wanda's wardrobe mostly consisted of darker colors and countercultural embellishments, her favorite color was red and she was terribly allergic to felines. Her fondness for old sitcoms could be traced to an attachment to a fond childhood memory.

She ate her breakfast cereal laughably in an awkward wrist fold, and had a twin brother who was studying abroad on an athletic scholarship; her father, an uncompromising man of German descent, was a major political figure in her hometown somewhere in New Jersey, and her mother was a Slovak immigrant who had passed away (in situations she didn't bother to clarify) when Wanda and her brother were just too young to be able to digest the nuances of such a sudden loss, their first abandonment in life. Both husband and wife were a non-practicing Jewish couple.

Wanda got what she wanted by sharing a warm bed with you on sleepless nights, and you, a tormentor possessing an ever so solemnly sadistic nature, merely kept her tamed on an emotional leash, since that meant it was in your domain whether her heart would stop beating or not. Before anyone else, however, the two of you were just a couple of two shy girlfriends who had been together since last semester, only having made public the relationship that came imperiously to the surface with the blossoming of the fastidious zenith of spring.

“Man, I still don't quite get this,” Yelena grumbled, then, once you accompanied her along with Darcy Lewis and Kate Bishop on a walk over the university campus, “You two were dating, like, this whole time, and you never bothered to tell us? You know, your best fucking friends?”

“It’s not like that, dude, it’s just—”

Your speech was abruptly cut short before the end, however, when, in the back pocket of your jeans, your phone trembled off the track, immediately catching your attention. Eyes turned to you.

You reached down to your pocket, where you grabbed your smartphone – on which the word “Wanda” flashed on the flat screen and, after realizing that it was your girlfriend who was contacting you, something in you had to restrain yourself before your eyes swiveled in their sockets. You slid your thumb horizontally across the screen glass and reclined the call, taking the plastic and carbide device back into your pocket.

“Was it her again?” it was Kate who questioned, to which you offered her a tiny nod in confirmation mode, a corroborating buzz of “mhmm” choking out of your throat, “Dude, okay, don't get me wrong but don't you think Wanda is kinda… um, you know, kinda…”

“Obsessed with you,” Darcy, the girl with the round glasses and dark hair, mussed in a smooth tone, frankly clarifying something Kate might have said, even if she didn't want to sound so impertinent when she said it.

“This is like, the tenth time she's called you in half an hour. Not to mention that now she lives on top of you all the time like a fucking eagle. We can't even have time with you alone anymore, she's there, like, the whole damn time.”

“It's not like that, c’mon,” you mussed in a bad way, still walking in the warm sun next to the other three girls, “Wanda is just, well… she's a worried person, that's all. She likes to make sure the people she cares about are okay.”

“It's one thing to be a worrier,” countered Yelena then, the three of them in tune in a train of thought that obviously pointed to the fact that your new girlfriend was a walking red flag.

“It's another thing to be obsessed with someone else. Like, borderline obsessed. Dude, Y/n, I know you're the kind of person who sees the good in everyone and is so altruistic that you get sick and all that nice girl shit, but... your girlfriend is weird. That's it, I said it. Wanda is weird. She gives me creeps, man, I swear.”

“Don't say my girlfriend is weird,” you frowned into the amber eyes of the blonde girl walking to your left, “That's offensive, you know? You can't just–”

But then the ringing of your phone was present again, and your hand went to your pocket again to pick up the device. You had never formally given your phone number to Wanda, but of course she already knew what it would be without even having to ask you. Your three friends crossed each other in tacit glances imbued with a mutual sense when a smothered sigh escaped through a half-open gap in the pulp of your lips.

"Look, I... I promised to have a study session with Wanda and I'm late, okay?" you hissed, your tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth, “I catch up with you guys latter.”

Turning on your heels, you set off in the opposite direction the rest of the group was walking. The silence was broken only when you were far away, out of reach of Darcy's brooding voice, who spoke first of the other two girls in her company – three pairs of eyes following your silhouette dwindling onto the well-cut grass puddled by a hot midday sun.

“Guys,” the bespectacled girl had said, “I might be sounding crazy, I know, but… don’t you think Wanda could have… kinda gotten rid of Christine so she wouldn’t have anything to stop her from being with Y/n...?”

Yelena blinked once at Darcy.

“I think your obsession with true crime media is starting to get a little weird”

ᗢ

“F-fuck, right there—!”

Wanda's voice gasped, strangled inside your ear, needing to take you fully inside her. The sounds of skin hitting skin muffled the dripping water from a poorly turned off faucet. The cramped bathroom stall at the back of the library could be one of the most discourteous and defamatory places you've ever had the misfortune of sneaking in to have sex with someone.

If you weren't too busy moaning into the crook of Wanda's sweaty neck, brows furrowed inside a public restroom where anyone could walk in at any second, you'd most likely have already teased your dear, disheveled lover for making your crawl in in that narrow place just to fuck her – but with the thirsty girl desperately splaying her hands over the bulge in your pants in an arduous search for the long scarlet silicone toy Wanda had bought for the two of you, yearning for the physical contact to alleviate her desire to be satiated, you just couldn't deny her altogether.

“You,” your speech was airy, somewhat disconnected from reality, the material of the strap delighting you as much as it did her, “You really couldn't wait, huh? Such a needy whore… I was busy, you know?”

You groaned, encouraging her with a mischievous half-smile as you felt the girl purposefully tighten around your entire wet length, which practically slid straight in and out of her.

“Y-you weren't busy,” Wanda moaned too, practically cried in performative innocence into the shell of your ear, purposely stoking you so you'd get rougher and increase the speed at which you thrust her, “You- ugh, fuck! – y-you were just walking—walking around with your… y-your stupid friends...”

“Stupid friends? That's bold.”

You stared at the familiar contorted face of pleasure your girlfriend expressed, popping in and out of Wanda fast and hard, with the green-eyed girl with pale legs curled around your waist, one hand buried in your tangle hair, scraping her splintered black-painted fingernails across your scalp. The hem of her red and gray plaid skirt bunched up over her damp thighs.

And indeed, something in you loved having her so primitively. As raw and animalistic as it could be; Wanda delivered, a mess completely at your mercy. The back of her head rested on the laminate on the wall, her wet red mouth half-open. Her forehead tensed, her white skin gleaming with sweat, pleading, begging for more.

It was like a real red rose blooming before your malevolent eyes. And that adrenaline aroused you, scarlet running scorching through your bristling veins. Anyone listening outside the bathroom would assume that the two of you were competing to see who was making the most of the situation.

“Damn, you look so pretty with my cock inside you,” you gasped in a breath in front of Wanda's face, “It makes me want to rip you in half.”

“Please Y/n! I'm almost- almost-! A-ah!” The girl gasped for air when she felt that you suddenly pressed her swollen clit between your rough and atrocious middle and index fingers, digging her dark nails into the skin of your neck where there was your hairline.

In a muffled cry, Wanda reached the peak of her orgasm around the false length that was stretching her deliciously inside. And you continued to burrow into her sensitive walls for a few more long seconds, filling her beyond acceptable, letting out cavernous whines until you too came with the strap being nestled inside her walls. The two of you, panting and tired, your chests rising and falling, stared at each other with sharp, floppy eyes. A brief smirk was mirrored on your mischievous faces.

“You don't need any of your friends anymore, baby,” Wanda mussed, panting, placing her pale hand on the warm skin of your flushed cheek, “You've got me now.”

It was a fact that she was in possession of a restless invidious nature, and the dependency could gnaw at her spirits so that an imperative need for control over you would well up in her core. Wanda might just be too possessive for your own good or even hers, and so the fastige of your relationship soon degenerated into a volatile debacle.

By the latest of the same week, then, with both of you already in the shelter of your residence on the outskirts of Manhattan, you could see yourself instituting dinner preparations, peeling potatoes and slicing carrots, when was it that hurried passes could be picked up by your ears upstairs, then down the stairs, to finally implode into the kitchen walls.

“What do you mean,” snarled Wanda in a frivolous tone of voice, exasperating behind your shoulder blades, “What do you mean you're going out with those bitches this fucking weekend?! I thought we were going out on a date, Y/n, what the fuck! You said you were going out with me!”

“Kate invited me to go to a bar with them,” you retorted in a sounding bordering on monotone, slicing a carrot, not giving much thought to Wanda's annoyances, “If you want, you can go too. But wait, how do you...?” the knife edge pressed against the plastic board, “You were looking through my phone again?!”

“These bitches are trying to take you away from me!” snapped Wanda immediately, her dark brows furrowing, “They hate me and you fucking know it!”

“They don't hate you Wanda, stop being dramatic, that's irritating,” you grumbled in a bad way, “I swear, sometimes I feel like getting rid of them all just so I don't have to listen to you bitching about them all the goddamn time.”

“Then get rid of them all,” she spat behind you, “Kill them all if you want, damn it, I don't give a shit about that! I just want them to know that you're mine!”

There was a momentary silence to behold, and Wanda peered up at you with a troubled, obsessed gaze in half a second when your chin reoriented itself over the bone of your right shoulder—jade eyes staring back at you, green soaked in the darkness, a gloom from which you were no longer able to hide from that psychoneurosis that so unnerved you when Wanda engaged in a bratty attitude.

She took her lower lip in her mouth and opened and closed her eyes, expelling a gust of warm air through her nostrils when, abandoning the shredded vegetables on the counter, you walked up to her face wielding that sharp knife in an ominous way.

“It's very bold of you to throw a tantrum and tell me to kill someone when I have a knife in my hand,” you blurted out the words slowly, not even fully mobilizing your pursed lips.

“You've been pissing me off a lot lately, you know that? Acting like a spoiled fucking brat who needs attention all the time because you're terrified I'll leave you when I feel like it. You're terrified of me rejecting you, aren't you, Wanda?”

“You wouldn't do that,” she muttered under her breath, the tips of your noses almost brushing through the air.

“Wouldn’t I?” The blade of the curvy, ravenous knife then pressed icy against the sharp right cheekbone of Wanda's pale face, still not cutting right into her skin, “Do you really think I wouldn't do that?”

“No, you wouldn't,” she, however, was unwavering in front of you, “I'm the only person in this entire world who understands you. Who really understands you, understands who you really are and is not afraid of you. Who knows your true self.”

"Look at you, you think you’re important,” a dark chuckle skimmed the flesh of your lips, the knife point trailing along the outline of Wanda's jaw then being held against the pale, smooth skin that covered the artery throbbing through her milk-white neck.

“It’s cute. You know, your lack of self-esteem to the point where you don't even bat an eye when I hold a knife to your neck because you know it will please me. Cute. Your pathetic submission is cute.”

“See,” Wanda smiled small, her irises brimming with emerald love that shimmered in the pale light of the pearl lamps above your heads, “I know you, Y/n. I love you. I love you so much that you don't need anyone else in your life. I also don't need anyone else but you. Only you.”

“This is sad. This is really, really sad,” your wrist constrained the knife blade against her collarbone, “Don't move.”

Wanda, ever so obedient, stood still when you carved your initial into her skin – the material of her shirt soaking in a big pool of fresh blood that sprinkled in a trickle onto the laminate kitchen floor; drops the size of a coin. Watching your deed etched atop that sharp bone, she looking so pretty and receptive with hot tears pooling before her clouded emerald eyes, an intrusive thought stabbed the back of your skull like a malignant tumor; maybe you needed Wanda in your life. Maybe you were as needy for her as she was for you.

As she slept later that same night, standing in front of the bathroom mirror you carved the letter "W" against the skin of your own left ribs.

ᗢ

About a month and a few days more had passed, as slowly as the blooming of spring flowers was already leaning towards the final touches of the season, since when your acquaintances learned about your relationship with Wanda of a nature no less than how controversial. You were spiraling down an intense, one-way descent, and you liked it.

The roar of raging thunder broke through the dead of night in an eager burst, so close to the house that, through its windows, in a tiny broken second, cold beams of white light cleared the downpour that raged outside the house, before re-submersing the world in the ambiguities of the nocturnal darkness. The streetlights in the region creaked and shook like lost souls, while the stiff gale gradually swelled as the interminable minutes of the storm passed.

Wanda, however, had not been awakened by the tyrannical, punishing thunder, or by the water hitting the tiles above her head assiduously, as if they were boulders of ice. She, in fact, hadn't even been able to fall asleep to a less-than-light sleep since she'd been snuggled into your king-size bed and comfortable sheets for about a few hours before the storm broke. She had woken up because you weren't in bed with her.

Finding tribulations in her actions, lethargically and slowly, she was able to get to her feet, albeit with difficulty because of the naughty worry radiating through her agitated body. Another thunder tore through the night sky as she left the bedroom. You out of her sight might as well be like a death sentence. The light from the guest bathroom with the door open inward was the only thing illuminating the dark hallway—the warm smell of cigarettes wafted through the air. Wanda knew you used nicotine as a companion in reflective moments.

The room was dark when Wanda entered it. It was just pearly pitch lit by the silver light above the mirror, which cluttered the bathroom up to the stained-glass windows, turning everything an odd platinum blue color that wasn't natural. The atmosphere inside was cold and hazy – as it would be in an authentic cemetery during autumn, when the leaves on the trees are orange and shedding from their branches like children leaving home for the first time.

“Y/n…?”

Wanda found your poor figure hunched over in the corner of the bathtub devoid of water to fill it, hugging your bare legs, wrapping your own slender arms around your knees like an abandoned child, staring at a tile beam on the wall. Your hair was tucked behind both of your ears, soaked in water and another dark liquid, thicker and more compact, which clotted at the ends of your hair and reflected vividly in the fluorescent light. Red.

The wallpaper and the floor tile and the clothes you were wearing were all splattered with great splashes of red, as if a can of scarlet paint had imploded in there – red spilling over everything, the ceiling and the floor and the towels, running down the drain of about five centimeters in diameter.

Her eyelids heaved at the mournful gaze that formed at the edge of the thick green of her snowy irises. On the other side of the tub, just in front of you, she found the inert body of a bloodied girl – her jugular open like a grinning face vomiting clotted blood. Her blood ran thick and heavy from your face; a flickering cigarette dangling from the corner of your lips, smoke rising into the air and only being stopped by the bathroom ceiling, hanging around like a toxic fog.

In cautious strides, Wanda carefully approached the bloodied tub, “Y/n, are you okay, baby?”

“Yes, I am,” you replied in a low voice, still not looking at Wanda standing beside you, “It was raining and I couldn't sleep. So I went out for a while and… she asked me for a ride.”

Wanda glanced at the corpse before sitting on the edge of the rectangular enameled steel tub, like a rag doll full of open patches, still wearing a tube party dress soaked in the color of hemoglobin. As she did, your head dropped down the cheek of her right thigh, blood staining the material of the pajama bottoms she was wearing. She was actually surprised, because you weren't the type to express so much physical affection towards her – yet Wanda's fingers found the crown of your bloodstained head, and there her fingertips bestowed a soothing caress on your scalp.

You took another drag of the cigarette and then dropped the butt on the floor of the bathtub, between your bare feet.

“She said her name is Madison, Madisynn, whatever,” you whispered to Wanda in a low voice, “Kinda reminded me of you. Her appearance, I mean. That's why I chose her.”

“Because you think she looks like me?” The low tone echoed through the bloodied wallpaper.

“Yeah, I guess,” you mussed, “I stayed up all night thinking about how I could kill you. But then I realized that I… I don't want to kill you, Wanda,” you lifted your head, your gaze boring into the vivid green of her eyes, “And then I left and she came asking me for a ride and she looked a lot like you. So it wasn't all that satisfying... because it was kinda like killing you. And I don't think I want that.”

"You don’t want that?"

“No,” again you sunk the skin of your face against Wanda's stained cotton pants, “I think I prefer you alive. It's more fun that way. I like that you’re my girlfriend.”

Her heart rose high in Wanda's chest as soon as the idea became apparent that she would no longer have to live on secretive glances and whispers of love in dark corners, because then, you were girlfriends. You said so. And there was no one else alive in that room that you had to lie to, so it had to be true. You were together, if any unsuspecting onlookers asked you, raising their eyebrows as they did so. You were dating.

Wanda then smiled at you sight, hunched over in a pool of blood in a bathtub and lit by trickles of artificial light. Her victory, her defeat, her obsession. Her girlfriend (touched up by gut marks that crisscrossed your scrawny skin). And then, suddenly it was okay – there would be no severed head, shattered jugular or cut in her own skin (your initial pulsing in her collarbone) that would stop Wanda from loving you as much as she did.

“I also like that you’re my girlfriend, Y/n,” she whispered, her hands smeared with the blood that soaked through your hair, “I love you. I love you so, so much.”

And Wanda didn't care at all when, minutes later, you nearly choked the life out of her when you fucked her just a feet away from a dead body.

2K notes · View notes