sun alianovna

The fan in the corner is on its highest setting, churning warm air in lazy, pointless loops. Wanda’s skin feels slick. The thin cotton shorts she’s wearing have twisted around her hips, so she tugs at the fabric where it clings to the small of her back. A bead of sweat trails down between her breasts, following that gentle curve, and she swipes it away with her hand. You’re draped over the couch, one leg hooked over the armrest, thumb barely moving as you scroll through your phone. Your shirt is rolled up behind your head as a makeshift pillow, and the late afternoon sun slices through the blinds, making the sheen on your chest shimmer. Wanda has been pretending not to watch your stomach rise and fall with every breath, pretending not as successfully as she wishes, admittedly.

“I swear she did this on purpose,” Wanda groans, dropping her head back against the granite counter. The stone is cool against her bare shoulders, one of the few reliefs this place still offers. “The AC panel, the lock, the timing. All of it.”

You don’t even look up. “She’s creative, I’ll give her that.”

“She’s a nightmare,” she snaps. “A heat wave with a grudge.” She rakes her fingers through her damp hair and lifts it off her neck so the fan’s weak breeze can reach the sweat there. “My brain is literally cooking in my skull.”

The ice maker clinks more cubes down the chute. Outside, a car alarm wails and then stops. Through the kitchen window, the neighbour’s pool glints invitingly. They’re out of town this week. You joked about sneaking in earlier, but the padlock on the fence made the risk feel too real when you were both upright and coherent.

“Remember when it was just boring?” She tilts her head to look at you upside down from where she’s leaning on the island. “Before it was hot and boring?”

“Vaguely,” you admit. Your thumb stops. You’re staring at the ceiling now, phone resting on your chest.

Wanda pushes herself up onto the counter, the granite cool against the backs of her thighs, and crosses her ankles so her feet dangle. Her shorts pull tight across her hips, and she doesn’t bother to adjust them. “If I were alone right now,” she says, voice light like she’s discussing pizza toppings, “I’d have my ass in the freezer with a bag of peas.” Deadpan.

You laugh, slow and amused. “You’d last thirty seconds before whining about freezer burn.”

“Thirty-five,” she counters.

“Optimistic.”

“I’ve built resilience.”

“You cried because your iced coffee wasn’t cold enough yesterday.”

“I was making a point.”

“You were making a scene.”

Wanda can’t help grinning. Around you both, the apartment settles with creaks as the sun presses harder against the windows. Even the fan groans.

She dips a hand into the fruit bowl and fishes out one of the melting ice cubes she dumped there earlier. It’s half its original size. She presses it to the back of her neck, desperate to find some kind of relief from the heat.

“Oh…” She closes her eyes. “There it is.”

You watch, amused. The cube slips, tracing a cold line down between her shoulder blades before she loses her grip. It skitters beneath her tank top, against her skin, and she sighs as the cold seeps in. She doesn’t care that she’s probably going to end up looking like she just walked off a wet-T-shirt contest stage. She grabs another handful of cubes and presses them against the curve of her ribs. A soft moan escapes her.

“Wow. That good, huh? Maybe I should try.” You’re careful to keep your gaze above her neck.

“Honestly, it’s so good I take back the ass in the freezer plan. If I were alone, my hand wouldn’t be in the freezer, it’d be down my pants.”

Your thumb hovers over your phone. “What?”

“Too hot to move, too hot to think, too hot to do anything productive. If it were just me, I’d lie on my bed and get myself off. Pass the time. Cool down. Get some release.” She shrugs, watching your face.

The fan clicks. The freezer cycles. A bass-heavy car rolls by outside.

You push yourself up, moving to sit on the couch so you’re facing her. There’s something in your expression, seriousness, curiosity…and something else she can’t put her finger on. Yet. “You’re telling me this because…” You trail off, brow raised.

“Because I’m not alone,” she spreads her hands. “And neither are you. We’re both sweating through our clothes, trapped in an oven of an apartment with nothing to do and nowhere to go.” Her feet swing, heels tapping the cabinet beneath. “Getting off doesn’t have to be a solo sport.”

You sit up straighter. Your phone clatters onto the cushion. Your eyes roam over her face, pausing on her chest then landing to where her legs hang open, then back up. She allows her knees to fall open just a bit more, while holding back a smirk. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.” She leans back on her palms, arching her chest so her damp tank clings to her curves. “You stroke yourself, I finger myself, and we both have something productive to do besides die of heatstroke.” She lets the words hang. “Or,” she adds, letting her voice soften into what hopefully sounds seductive, “we help each other. You know, if you’re into that idea.”

The ice maker drops another batch.

You stand, deliberately. She watches the muscles in your stomach flex as you walk toward her, stopping just a foot away, close enough to smell the salt on your skin, the faint scent of deodorant.

“Help each other,” you echo, your voice now sounding thicker than before.

“That’s what I said.” She uncrosses her ankles. Her left thigh brushes your hip, the heat of you sparking through her. “Your hands are right here,” she taps her own thigh, “and mine are right there. Seems a shame not to share.”

You reach out, fingers brushing her knee, thumb tracing a gentle circle. Your touch is warm yet still uncertain. She watches the movement in an almost distant way, noticing how her breath suddenly becomes shallow.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” you say. You look at her through half-closed eyes, not quite shy but guarded nonetheless. She can feel the conflict between your hesitation and your desire. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t turn her on more.

“Since the moment you took your shirt off,” she admits, eyes on your hand.

Wanda uncrosses her arms and takes a beat, letting anticipation lap at the silence before reaching for your wrist. Her fingers wrap easily around it. You're warm, almost feverish to the touch, and she feels the hidden stiffness of your pulse jumping against her palm. There's a faint sheen of sweat on your forearm, and the contact gives a static little crackle up her own skin. For a second, she just holds you there, measuring the distance between want and permission, and then she guides your hand up the length of her thigh.

The movement is slow, unhurried, like she's giving you a chance to second-guess her, to pull away if this is all just talk and no follow-through. But you don't. Your eyes pin to hers, now fully open, looking to make sure she’s not about to tell you that all of this is just a joke. She meets yours without hesitation, letting you see for yourself just how serious she truly is. Your palm floats over her knee and up the curve to bare skin, your fingers tracing the damp line where her shorts rode up and stuck there, then higher, over the slick, swollen skin, until your fingertips catch the hem. She puts her own hand over yours, both of you pressing, and the fabric gives easily. She can feel your knuckles, your fingers splayed across the thin cotton, and the pressure makes her gasp, sharper than she means to.

"See?" she says, but her voice is already gravelly, husked out by the sensation. "Not a solo activity."

You step in, closing the space between you, and suddenly there's nowhere to look but at you. You're tall enough that, even sitting on the island, her line of sight runs straight into your collarbone, dusted with freckles and glistening with sweat. Your chest is flushed, as is hers, and she becomes fully aware of every place your bodies are about to touch.

Your free hand travels up her waist and pauses at her ribs, thumb pressing on a strip of bare skin between her tank and her shorts. The pressure is proprietary but gentle, a kind of claim she didn't know she longed to feel. The other hand, the one she guided, is still resting right between her legs, index finger curling reflexively. She rocks forward, trying to get more friction, and you oblige by pressing in and up, the fabric yielding with a wet sound that seems to echo in the heat-locked stillness of the room.

Her hand is still on yours, guiding, but she's shaking a little, whether from adrenaline or want she can't tell. She sees your mouth tick up in a crooked smile and you let out a slow, long exhale.

"You're really—" you start, but she cuts you off.

"Yeah," she says. "Really." She arches her hips, dragging your finger along the seam, letting you feel exactly how wet she is. You steady yourself against the counter with one hand and use the other to rub small, insistent circles over the spot that makes her clench around nothing. Her head tips back involuntarily, pressing into the cold countertop, and she lets out a low, helpless sound that seems to vibrate up from the base of her spine.

You're watching her face, focused. When she opens her eyes, your gaze is all the way there, so intent it feels like electricity. Your hair has gone damp at the temples and your breath is picking up, ragged around the edges. There's a new kind of tension in your jaw, a held-backness that makes her want to push harder, to see what will happen if you stop holding back.

The hand at her hip slides lower, bunching the waistband of her shorts, thumb brushing the sensitive skin just above the elastic. You play with the fabric, rolling it between your fingers, and then you hook two fingers underneath and pull, just enough to expose the smallest band of skin. Her stomach tightens. She shifts her weight, opening her legs wider. The action is an invitation but also a dare.

Still, you wait. Frustratingly so. You look at her like you're waiting for something, permission, or maybe just to see if she'll lose her nerve. If she'll take it all back. She doesn't. She looks right at you, holds your gaze, and then reaches for the button on your jeans, popping it open with a practised flick of her thumb. The zipper drags down, loud and serrated, and she feels the flush rise up her neck.

Wanda reaches out and, guided by the familiar weight of your form against your boxers, she moves with intent. You’re already hard, so hard it almost surprises her, and the heat coming off your skin is intense, burning, desperate, like you’ve been holding this in since the first time you made eye contact. She strokes you, just enough to feel how much you want this, and you push into her hand with a low, choked groan.

She licks her lips as she thinks about getting down on her knees right here, the cold marble of the kitchen tiles against her legs, your hands in her hair. She wants to take you in her mouth and ruin you for the rest of the afternoon, but the heat is so suffocating, so omnipresent, that even the thought of kneeling is too much. Instead, she lets go and presses her forehead to your stomach, lips grazing the sharp ridge of muscle there, breathing in the salt and sun baked into your skin.

"Fuck," you say, almost softly, and it makes her smile. She likes hearing you unspool a little.

Your hand is still at the junction of her thighs, but now you use your knuckles, brushing them over the seam until you find the edge and slip beneath. Your touch is tentative at first, barely there, as if you're surprised at how easily you can slide your fingers inside. But when you feel how wet she is, how ready, you groan again, this time louder, and cup your palm over her, rubbing slow and steady.

She lets her legs dangle, heels thumping the cabinet, and then she hooks one foot around the back of your knee, pulling you closer. The move is greedy and obvious, but she doesn't care. It's too hot for games. She wants this, wants you, and she wants you to know.

You slide your fingers back and forth, learning the rhythm of her breath, her hips. When you get it right she gasps, biting her lower lip, and you press your thumb harder, circling until she nearly sobs with relief. Her hands clench the edge of the counter, white-knuckled, and she lets out a helpless, helpless sound.

Then she sees it, the flash of blue from the neighbor's pool, a glint through the slats in the blinds. The sight yanks her back to the first, more innocent idea she'd had for relief, and the bitterness of its inaccessibility is almost comical now, considering what's happening. The pool is closed to you both, locked behind a fence, but the thought of immersion, of being submerged, lingers at the edges of her brain. She wants to be drowned in sensation, in you.

She looks up at you, hair sticking to her cheeks, and she sees that you’re just as undone as she is, pupils blown wide, jaw rigid. For a split second, she chickens out and wants to say something clever, make it a joke, remind you both that it’s just heat and boredom, not some deeper thing. But the joke won’t come. Instead, she wants more. And she thinks you do too.

She slides off the counter, landing almost weightless on her feet, and presses herself against you. Her hands go to your hips, and she tugs your jeans down, letting them puddle around your ankles. You step out of them, not taking your eyes off her.

"Wait," she says, and you freeze, uncertainty flickering across your features for the first time. She runs her hands up your chest, thumb tracing the line between your pecs, and then she cups your jaw in both hands and kisses you. It's not delicate. It's not tentative. It's open-mouthed and wet and desperate and all the things she's been refusing herself since you broke up with her roommate six months ago. She pretended to like that you stayed friends after, but the truth is, she’s always wanted more. Thought you deserved better. She guesses thinking maybe you deserved… her.

You kiss her back, one hand tangling in her hair, the other gripping her ass. You stagger backwards, breaking apart only to breathe, and then she feels the urge to escalate, to take it somewhere less exposed, less vulnerable. The kitchen is too bright, too open; she wants shadows and echoing tile and the hum of old pipes.

"Come with me," she says, and tugs your hand. Wanda leads you down the narrow hallway, skin sticking to the plaster where she brushes past. The bathroom is small, tiled in white, the shower stall narrow with clear glass doors. She reaches in and twists the faucet, and the pipes shudder before water drums against tile.

She pulls her tank top over her head, arms crossing, fabric catching on damp skin. The cotton shorts come next, peeling down, and she steps out of them, leaving both in a heap on the bathmat. You shove your shorts down your hips, kick them aside, and then it's just you both and the sound of water hitting porcelain.

She steps in first. The water is cool at best, the building's ancient plumbing struggling, but it's better than hot stagnant air. It runs down her shoulders, her spine, pooling at the small of her back. You follow her in, and the stall shrinks around you, your chest close enough that water channels between your bodies.

She turns around. Water hits the back of her neck and runs down between her shoulder blades, and she presses two fingers into the center of your chest and walks you backward until the tile catches you. Your eyes don't leave hers. She lowers herself down, one knee at a time to the floor of the stall.

She looks up at you and takes her time, her hand first, exploring you, and she watches your stomach tighten before she's even done anything. Your hand drops to her hair, not directing, just needing somewhere to be. She leans in and kisses the inside of your thigh, then looks up with a grin, feeling the shudder move through your whole body.

Then she takes you in, her mouth working with a hunger that matches the heat of the room. She goes easy at first, lips dragging, tongue working in slow rolls, and the sounds she makes are low and unhurried. Your fingers curl tighter in her hair. She feels your thigh go rigid under her palm and she presses into it, feeling the muscle jump. Water runs down her face and into her mouth and she tastes you and tap water and salt all at once and she wants more of it. She picks up the pace and your hips cant forward, her throat opening to take you deeper.

"Christ—" It comes out of you like something torn loose, and she feels it in her chest.

You pull her up by the arms, almost rough, and your mouth hits hers, open, immediate. You turn her so her palms find the glass door. She drops her head against the cool glass, arches her back and waits, her pussy dripping with need.

You sink down behind her.

Your thumbs press in and open her and then your mouth is there, no preamble, no teasing, just the broad flat of your tongue pushing upward, and her fingers curl against nothing. The glass gives her no grip. A loud moan charges through her and she fights the feeling of her knees starting to buckle.

You're relentless. Deliciously so. Your tongue circles her clit, then dips lower, pushing into her, and the sound she makes bounces off the tile. Your fingers dig into her hips, holding her still while your mouth works, and she can feel the hunger in it, the way you press your face into her like you're trying to crawl inside. Like you need this more than she does, and that thought takes her right up to the edge, causing her to whimper loudly when you suddenly stop your glorious oral manipulations on her pussy.

You stand, your hands steadying her hips before she feels you pressing against her. Your hands guide her hips, and you push in with one long stroke. Her palms slide on the glass. The fullness of you stretches her open, and she groans, low and desperate. You pull back, almost all the way out, and then you drive forward, and the glass door rattles in its frame.

You fuck her like that, pressed against the shower glass, water streaming over both of you. Each thrust pushes her body forward, her nipples dragging against the slick surface, and your hand comes up to cup her breast, fingers pinching her nipple. Your other hand stays on her hip, gripping hard as you increase the pace.

But there's something else. Between the hard strokes, your mouth finds the back of her neck, and you kiss her there, soft, your lips lingering along her spine. Your rhythm slows for a moment, deep and grinding, and your forehead rests against her shoulder blade. It's tender. Almost, dare she say, loving. It catches her off guard, and something in her chest cracks open.

Then you speed up again, and she quickly loses her ability to form thoughts.

The orgasm builds from thick and deep, coiling tight at her center, and she pushes back against you, her teeth clenched as she meets each thrust. "There—right there—" and your angle shifts, and she comes apart. Her whole body seizes, clenching around you, and she cries out, the sound raw and echoing before telling you it’s your turn.

“Cum for me. Please. Give it to me. I know you want to. Give me your cum. Now!”

Wanda doesn’t have to ask you twice. Your release hits hard, your hips stuttering, your hand squeezing her breast, a groan tearing from your throat that she feels vibrate through both your wet, naked bodies.

You stay like that, water still running cold, both of you breathing hard. Then you pull out slowly before turning her around. Your mouth finds hers in a deep kiss once more. The kiss is slow this time, relaxed, lazy, your hands cupping her face like she's something worth holding.

"You’re right, you know," you say, the cool water streaming down your faces. “It doesn’t have to be a solo sport.”

Wanda laughs, breathless, and kisses you again.

“See? I told you,” she giggles. And the best part? Summer has only just begun.

The summoning circle glowed an eerie crimson in Natasha's cramped dorm room, textbooks and empty energy drink cans scattered around its edges.

She had meant to call King Paimon for help with her failing grades, but one wrong rune twisted the ritual. Instead of the expected ancient king, a figure materialized—tall, curvaceous, with long dark hair and piercing eyes that matched exactly what Natasha found irresistibly attractive in women.

Natasha's eyes widened. "Shit, you're not who I meant to summon."

Panic hit her as she recalled those absurd online posts about scaring demons off by flashing them. Without thinking twice, she yanked down her jeans and panties, spreading her legs to bare her pussy right at the succubus.

The demon didn't recoil. It dropped to its knees instantly, hands gripping Natasha's thighs as its tongue plunged straight into her folds. It licked and sucked with hungry precision, circling her clit before driving deeper into her entrance.

Natasha gasped, her hands flying to the demon's shoulders. She pushed, trying to shove it back, but the wet heat of that mouth felt too good. Her fingers curled, pulling the succubus closer instead.

"This... it shouldn't feel so good—fuck," Natasha muttered, conflicted.

The demon was a creature from another realm, yet its tongue worked her pussy relentlessly, flicking and lapping until her hips bucked. She came hard the first time, thighs clamping around the demon's head as juices coated its chin.

The succubus didn't stop. It kept eating her out through the aftershocks, tongue thrusting inside her while fingers spread her lips wider for better access.

Natasha's resistance faded with each orgasm. She stopped pushing and let the demon feast, grinding her pussy against its face as wave after wave hit her.

The succubus made her cum again and again, tongue and lips relentless until her legs shook and her dorm bed creaked beneath her. Then the demon rose, its lower body shifting seamlessly.

Where smooth skin and a pussy had been, a thick cock now jutted out, hard and veined, matching the rest of its feminine form. It gripped Natasha's hips, lining up and thrusting deep into her soaked pussy in one smooth motion. Natasha moaned loudly, her walls clenching around the sudden penetration.

The succubus kept thrusting into Natasha's soaked pussy without pause, its thick cock stretching her walls as it flipped her onto her stomach.

It grabbed a fistful of her red hair and yanked her head back sharply. "You like this demon cock ruining your tight little hole, don't you?" the succubus growled, voice low and husky against her ear.

Natasha moaned, her hands clutching the sheets. "Fuck... yes, it feels too good," she gasped out, conflicted but pushing her ass back to meet each thrust.

The demon pulled out briefly, flipped her onto her back again, and slapped her pussy with an open palm—not too hard, but enough to make her jolt and whimper.

"Tell me how much you want it," it demanded, lining up and slamming back inside her.

Natasha cried out, legs wrapping around its waist. "I want it—keep fucking me," she begged, her voice breaking as the demon's hips snapped forward relentlessly.

It shifted positions again, pulling her up to straddle its lap while it sat on the edge of the bed. Natasha rode the thick cock, bouncing as the succubus gripped her throat with one hand, squeezing just enough to make her breath hitch.

"That's it, fuck yourself on my cock," the demon said, its free hand slapping her face lightly, then delivering another firm smack to her clit and pussy lips.

Natasha gasped for air when the pressure eased, her walls clenching hard around the shaft. "Harder—don't stop," she rasped, grinding down desperately.

The demon flipped her once more, taking her from behind with her face pressed into the mattress. It yanked her hair again, arching her back as it pounded deeper.

"This is what you're into, huh? pretty girls with cocks big enough to make you feel full—cum for me again," it ordered, slapping her ass and then her pussy from underneath.

Natasha screamed into the sheets as another orgasm ripped through her, summing around the demon's cock.

A sudden knock echoed from the dorm door. "Natasha? You in there? We heard noises," came Steve's voice, followed by Tony's muffled laugh and Clint's call. "Everything okay?"

The succubus didn't slow down. It kept slamming into her pussy, one hand still tangled in her hair.

"Answer them," the demon whispered, thrusting harder. Natasha's voice shook as she tried to respond.

"I'm—I'm fine! Just studying! Go away!" 

The knocking continued. "You sure? Sounds intense," Bruce added.

The demon grinned, choking her lightly again while slapping her pussy mid-thrust.

Natasha bit her lip to stifle a moan. "Really, I'm good—please leave!" she managed, her body trembling from the relentless fucking.

The group outside murmured, footsteps starting to retreat.

Just as they turned to go, the succubus buried itself to the hilt and came hard, flooding Natasha's pussy with hot spurts of cum. It didn't pull out.

Instead, it kept thrusting through the orgasm, mixing its load with her juices as it fucked her deeper.

"They're gone—now take every drop," the demon growled, shifting her into a new position on her side and resuming the pounding without missing a beat.

The succubus kept pounding Natasha's dripping pussy from behind, one hand fisted in her red hair while the other delivered sharp slaps to her swollen clit.

"Cum on this cock again," the demon snarled, yanking her head back. Natasha's walls clenched hard as another orgasm crashed through her, her juices squirting around the thick shaft.

"Fuck—I'm cumming!" she cried out, body shaking.

The demon slammed deep and unloaded, pumping hot cum into her spasming hole until it overflowed down her thighs. It didn't stop. It flipped her onto her back, spread her legs wide, and drove back inside, thrusting through the aftershocks.

"Take every drop—your pussy is milking me so good," it growled, slapping her face lightly then her pussy with wet smacks. Natasha moaned, hips bucking up to meet each thrust.

Another orgasm built fast. The demon choked her lightly, squeezing her throat as it fucked her harder.

"Come on, Natasha, cum," it ordered.

Natasha's vision blurred as she came again, pussy pulsing and squirting around the cock buried inside her. The demon followed right after, flooding her with another thick load of cum, filling her until it leaked out with every thrust.

It pulled out only to shove two fingers deep into her cum-slicked cunt, curling them against her g-spot. "I want you to cum on my fingers," the demon said, pumping them fast while its thumb rubbed her clit.

Natasha gasped, legs trembling. "Oh god—right there!" Her first finger orgasm hit hard, walls fluttering as she gushed around the digits, soaking the demon's hand.

The demon didn't pause. It added a third finger, stretching her and fucking her relentlessly with them. "That's it, soak my hand—cum again," it demanded, leaning down to bite her nipple.

Natasha arched, another climax ripping through her almost immediately, her pussy clenching and squirting in rhythmic pulses. "I'm cumming—fuck, don't stop!" she babbled, hips grinding down.

A fourth orgasm followed close behind as the demon curled its fingers harder, slapping her pussy with its free hand between thrusts. Natasha screamed, body convulsing as she squirted again, cum and her own juices mixing on the sheets.

The demon kept going, relentless. "One more—give it to me," it growled, choking her briefly while its fingers pistoned in and out.

Natasha came a fifth time on the fingers, her voice hoarse from moaning. "Too much—please! I can't take anymore," she begged, pushing weakly at the demon's wrist. The succubus slowed but kept its fingers buried deep, smirking as Natasha's pussy twitched around them.

with the succubus's fingers still buried deep inside Natasha's soaked pussy, unmoving but still stretching her walls as the demon's voice cut through the air. 

"This rune here, fucked up your little summoning circle, and brought me here. Your little stunt, huh? Flashing your pretty pussy at me? That would have scared any normal demon out there, but not me, honey."

"—fuck, I know, ugh, I messed up bad—"

"As you probably can tell, I'm a succubus. I use sex to drain you mortals of your energy. So your thing earlier to scare me? Futile. Pathetic."

Natasha's breath hitched as she panted, her body still trembling from all of the intense orgasms that had ripped through her. The demon's fingers stayed lodged inside her, the pressure constant and unyielding. The succubus leaned in closer, its glowing eyes locked on Natasha's flushed face.

"Name's yours to claim if you want it, but you can call me whatever gets you wetter. I'm here because your ritual called, and that broken rune answered. Now you're stuck with me until I decide we're done."

The demon's free hand trailed up Natasha's inner thigh, nails grazing sensitive skin while the fingers inside her gave the slightest twitch, reminding her they weren't going anywhere. Natasha's pussy clenched involuntarily around the intrusion, still sensitive and dripping.

--------

I would link the reel I saw that I based the "scaring the demon away with ya cunt" but I can't find it anymore, because I got this idea as I was seeing the reel and I literally sprinted to write it, and when I tried to look for it in my 'just watched' tab on ig, it wasn't there, so I looked up and found the photo in the reel instead so here it is

Yes, you got her jewelry and flowers, reservations at the best places and holidays every three months. But she didn’t ask for it. You expressed your love through those things, and she was happy to let you spoil her.

But then, the merger.

The company you worked for and another one were now one big, corporate clusterfuck and you were assigned to fix the mess. 

For the past month, you’d only been home for dinner a handful of times, and the one night you tried your luck with a reservation, you were held back in a meeting and lost your spot.

Wanda was more understanding than you deserved, and you had promised an entire month off to do as she pleased once work got better.

There was one thing, however, that Wanda couldn’t really stand.

The lack of intimacy.

You still woke up with your arms around her, kissed her long and hard before you went off to work. But eating her out on the kitchen counter? Now it was littered with reports and binders, work that you carried home and interrupted life as Wanda knew it.

She missed waking up to the sight of your face buried between her legs. Most days, she’d wake up to the sound of your phone ringing, the partners in Europe too eager to wait for a decent time.

Wanda knew you, better than anyone. You were always one to fuck her anywhere she’d let you, anytime. Right now, you just needed… a little spark to start the fire.

She could do that alright.

—

The plan was simple. A little bit of contact that would hopefully make you hungry for more. It wasn’t teasing, because Wanda would gladly give in to anything you wanted.

“What a day” you sigh, kicking the door as you step into the foyer. “Babe?”

“In here” Wanda calls, grateful when she hears you removing your shoes as you walk inside. 

“What are you…? Oh, that’s nice” you smile, noticing the candles lit around the living room, the scent of lavender permeating the air. 

“I was just meditating” she lies, scooting over so you sit by her side on the couch. You smile, hand going to squeeze her thigh as you sit down next to her. The contact almost makes her flinch, hoping your hand would travel higher. “How was work?”

“The same. Well, not as bad. The new sales team finally agreed on something. Though that something was what to get for lunch”

“It’s a start” Wanda says, rubbing your shoulders. “You are very tense”

“Jeez, I wonder why” you joke, but stop talking once Wanda’s hand goes higher, to your neck. “Wow, that’s exactly the spot…”

Wanda laughs, getting up from the couch to stand behind you, her hands on your shoulders.

“Gosh, Wands” you almost moan when she squeezes the muscles. She leans to whisper in your ear and you let her kiss your neck.

“Just relax, ok? I got you”

“Ok, babe” you nod. Wanda can’t help herself, kissing your neck and behind your ear. She figures you’re so turned on you can’t even speak.

That is, until a loud snore makes her jump.

There you are, fast asleep, head hanging to the side like a raggedy doll.

Guess Wanda’s massages are too relaxing.

—

Plan B would work. Mainly because Wanda had tried to… take care of things on her own and it didn’t. 

Nothing would make you more eager to please Wanda than a home cooked meal. You always said it was a way to pay her back for all the effort and time she’d invested.

So, now there’s a three course dinner waiting when you walk through the door.

“Smells amazing!” is the first thing you say, and Wanda thinks it’s a good sign when you leave your briefcase by the door. Your computer is always within reach, so if you’re willing to leave it behind, she might get her way tonight.

“Sit, I’m opening the wine” she says, looking over her shoulder. 

Instead of doing as she says, you take her by her hips, turning her body until you’re face to face and kiss her. Wanda moans into your lips, feeling a pang of arousal as you sink your nails in the flesh of her waist.

“I really want to kiss you again but I am starving. I’m not done here” you peck her lips and Wanda has to stop herself from doing a victory dance.

Finally!

As you start eating the first dish, Wanda tells you about her day and you listen, trying hard to focus. Though something is in the back of your head.

Literally, you’re getting hives.

“Babe, did you try a new recipe?” you say, trying to keep calm.

“Yes, what do you think? The sesame seeds give it a nice touch”

Oh, shit.

“I’ll be right back” you say, panicking a little.

Wanda glares, standing up at the same time, chasing you down the hallway.

“Where the hell is it?” you mutter, rumaging through the cabinets. “Maybe the bathroom”

“Malyshka! We were having dinner and you are being extremely rude right now!” Wanda says, getting ahead of you and blocking the entrance to the bathroom.

“Baby, I really need… fuck, this is killing me” you scratch your back. “Wanda, I’m allergic to sesame seeds, I need my medicine or you’re going to call 911”

“Shit!” she says, moving aside. You squeeze her hand as you sprint to the bathroom, going through the bottles of pills you keep there until you find it. 

Two pills later, your rash is gone, though you’re practically passed out in the living room.

“I’ve cooked with sesame oil before and you never had a reaction! I’m so sorry, baby” Wanda says, on the verge of tears.

“Sweetheart, it’s fine. Something about proteins in the seeds. Medical stuff. Google should know better than me” you mumble, leaning your head on her lap. “It was a really delicious meal, babe. Totally worth it”

After getting you in bed, Wanda decides to throw away all the food, in case she added more seeds to anything else. 

And well, plan B didn’t work and she’s not sure she has it in her to do something else.

—-

After another week, Wanda’s moved past the stage where she’s trying to make an effort. Now she’s pissed (and ovulating, but that’s neither here nor there).

What are you doing to keep the spark alive? Do you not see how work is taking up so much of your time? 

Third time is the charm, but she’s not planning anything. Tonight, she’ll wait for you wearing very expensive lingerie and tell you (no, demand you) to pay attention.

The minute you left for work, she changed into it, just to make sure there wasn’t anything else she needed to get or do (she’ll definitely shave her legs). Wanda’s so busy getting the straps of the bralette that she doesn’t hear you come back in.

“I forgot my… holy shit” you say, taking in the sight before you.

“Detka! I thought you were gone” Wanda says, suddenly shy, getting her satine robe from the otoman next to the mirror.

“Oh. So this isn’t for me?” you say with a certain hardness in your tone. “Expecting someone else?”

“No. I just meant… I wanted to surprise you later. I know you have work” she stutters, backing into the wall, while you advance like a predator. 

You barely register Wanda saying your name, trying to remind you about your meetings.

“Fuck work” you say, pulling her into a searing kiss. By some miracle, Wanda doesn’t pass out when you bite her bottom lip, hands traveling to her ass to squeeze the flesh. You push her against your thigh, encouraging her to ride it.

“Wait, no! I was… waiting for you to remember I’m more important than work. I wanted you to beg… make it difficult” she mumbles, moaning when you suck on her pulse point.

“I can get on my knees if that’s what you want” you tease her, doing just that and practically ripping her thong. Not like it’s hard, considering it’s just a string. “Don’t make a face. I’ll buy you a new one”

“With what money? You’re definitely getting fired” she tries to tease you, but then you’re biting the inside of her thigh and Wanda’s breath catches in her throat.

“They need me too much”

“Not as much as I need you” 

“Yeah, you’re dripping, sweetheart” you chuckle. Wanda really wants to glare, but then your tongue is at her entrance and she just throws her head back, moaning loudly at the contact. 

You eat her out like a woman starved. She’s right, it’s been too long and Wanda’s arousal is your absolute favorite taste in the world. 

“I’m going to…” she says, out of breath, sinking her nails in your scalp.

“Bed, on your knees” you say, leaving her on edge. “Now, Wands”

“You’re lucky you’re cute” she groans, listening to your command.

“Don’t look” you warn her, opening your drawer to select her favorite toy. After losing your pants and adjusting the strap, you climb into bed, touching her shoulders softly. “Did you touch yourself these past few days?”

“It didn’t work” she admits, holding her breath as your hand travels lower, and you sink two fingers. “Fuck, that’s it”

“Just stretching you out, baby” you say, kissing her shoulder. “You’re going to take it all, like a good girl. Right?”

“Yes, please” she says, frustrated when your fingers leave her hole clenching around nothing. But pretty soon, that emptiness is replaced with something bigger, Wanda’s cunt stretching around the toy.

“So tight” you say against her ear, bottoming out. “Oh, such a good girl”

“Fuck me, please” she says, and she’s sure that you only have to thrust once or twice to push her over the edge.

Wanda lasts a little longer than she had expected, but her climax still comes fast, overwhelming and leaving her out of breath.

“Gime me another one” you demand, and she’s about to say she’s too sensitive, when you pound into her, this time rough.

This way, you can feel the toy against your clit, the pressure helping you reach your own climax. Wanda moans and grasps the sheets as you fuck her into the mattress, praising her with every one of your thrusts.

“I’m coming” she says, arousal leaking out of her as you come too, out of breath.

You take her by the waist, and turn on the side, until you’re spooning her, the toy buried deep inside her still.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so focused on work” you mutter, kissing the spot behind her ear.

Wanda turns to look at you over her shoulder, smiling.

“I missed you”

“Me too, baby”

“Do you have to go soon?” she asks and you smile, kissing her until she turns to face you. That’s how you remember you haven’t ruined the top part of her lingerie set.

“Nat.” Wanda called, the barest hint of warning in her voice, so little that Natasha had no qualms with ignoring it.

She didn’t miss a beat, sliding Wanda’s too tight gym shorts from her hips, catching the hem of her underwear and removing them in one fell swoop. When the brunette sent a text declaring her incoming arrival a few hours ago, Natasha assumed she’d end up in bed with the girl— just not like this. Wanda surprised her with needing a place to take her Russian Literature quiz, claiming both that her fellow sorority sisters were being too rowdy at her place and her distaste with walking across campus to the library for a simple online module.

But now she faced an unexpected distraction: Natasha’s constantly roaming hands. “Natasha…”

If Natasha heard Wanda, she was good at feigning ignorance, keeping her spot on her knees between Wanda’s legs, exploring her impossibly soft thighs with calloused hands. By all standards, she considered herself gracious, letting Wanda set up her bed, books sprawled around while she laid on her stomach in front of her laptop. She’d kept her hands to herself until now, even given Wanda answers to parts of the quiz; Natasha held out as long as she could.

“Natasha, stop it.” Wanda drew the line as Natasha’s warm breath hit the small of her back; she had no hope finishing her assignment if the other girl continued on. Not that her body agreed with her decision, the experimental touches drawing her attention much more than the last five questions on the screen in front of her.

The redhead pouted, an action Wanda would’ve been oblivious too if it hadn’t been accompanied with an indignant huff. Wanda might’ve been stubborn, but she was more predictable than she thought; even as she stood her ground, Natasha grazed one finger over the juncture of her legs and she twitched. “But if I stop, you’ll just lay here and make my duvet sticky.”

“I would not!” The protest was strong, but Wanda cursed her counterpart for being right, having been subtly rolling her hips into the mattress since Nat first sat next to her and started sneaking in those treacherous touches. And so what if she had; today was the last day to finish her quiz and Natasha be damned, she never missed a deadline. “Can’t you go play your game in the corner? I’m almost done.”

“Aww, but I’m playing with you right now, baby,” Natasha grinned, giving Wanda’s backside a painfully hard squeeze. She fell silent in favor of kissing over the round globes of Wanda’s ass almost reverently, covering the expanse of skin as dutifully as the brunette was typing. She took her time, savoring both the lack of resistance and clear frustration the girl under her fought with.

She thought she could deal with it, focus long enough to complete the last quiz question, but of course it had to be an essay question… just as Natasha nibbled along the crease where her ass curved into her thigh. It was so sudden and sharp Wanda didn’t think about hiding her shriek, “Tasha, please! I can’t think!”

In their months as whatever they were, Nat survived multiple kicks and elbows when she happened to push Wanda too far; a squeaky plea more desperate than dangerous didn’t fool her for a second. She wasn’t a bit surprised when she pushed Wanda’s knees up as easy as she would a doll’s, not a defiant push or shove to be found. “I’m only helping, princess. How are you gonna focus when you’re so needy?”

“I was focusing just fine without your help!” The tail end of her sentence fell off into a yelp, the sharp sting of Natasha’s open palm striking her proffered ass. Spanking was a fairly new thing to Wanda, not that she didn’t know what it was, but being on the receiving end… she liked it more than she’d yet admitted.

As if Natasha couldn’t tell after the first time she had her over her knee and was left with a whimpering mess.

She’d only done it now to watch Wanda’s thighs twitch, her sex now completely devoid of friction as she stayed in the air. Nat couldn’t wait any longer, had to get her mouth on the object of her own desire. She dived down, bending deep to kiss the other girl’s mound. “I’ll finish your stupid quiz for you later, just let me taste you.”

“Don’t you understand the word no,” Wanda sighed, well aware she was done for as Natasha’s tongue slid through her folds. As soon as she found her clit, Wanda was rocking back onto her mouth, spreading her legs further just to feel more. She knew she looked wanton, sounded just the same with all her moans, arms sweeping away her laptop to stretch them out and scramble for something to hold. “Would’ve been done by now if you weren’t so horny all the time.”

“You’re the one who came over looking good enough to eat, not my fault,” her voice was muffled, speaking an afterthought to sucking the sensitive bud into her mouth, sucking and slurping lewdly as Wanda’s back arched into the bed below. It didn’t take long for Wanda to drip down Natasha’s chin, hot and messy. “Fuck, I’ll finish your entire course this semester if I can taste this sweet pussy.”

“T-This is a one time thing… ‘m not a cheater-” Wanda prided herself in her good grades, earned all on her hard work alone. Natasha wasn’t the first person to offer their academic services, but she surely was the most convincing. She felt akin to a live-wire, her entire being shuddering each time the rough surface of Nat’s tongue dragged over her most sensitive areas. This was the first time she’d been taken from behind, but she knew better than to believe her own words that it’d be the last.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to work too hard to give Natasha a reason to fuck her.

“Inside… want your mouth..” Nat uttered a strained groan at Wanda’s request, licking the length of her one last time before backing up just enough to change course, sinking her tongue into Wanda’s waiting entrance.

Wanda wasted no time fucking herself on Natasha’s mouth, fingers curling into the sheets as she panted out her need. “Oh god, yes! Just like that, don’t move-!”

The redhead complied, perfectly content to let Wanda lose herself atop her, stiff fingers patting her full thighs to encourage the brunette on. Curling her tongue was Wanda’s downfall, thick muscle teasing her walls and forcing her over the edge. She held Wanda still, trapping her as she writhed and jerked, catching her name amidst Wanda’s cries and selfishly hoping anyone passing by the room could hear them. “Still want this just once, Wands?”

You snicker to yourself as you scroll past the multitude of outlandish articles trying to pinpoint why the town killer suddenly changed their routine after five years of dedicated Halloween night slaughters.

The screen is cold as your thumb glides against it, trying to escape the new narrative that the OG has gone off the rails, more so than the town of less than two thousand people can wrap their heads around.

If you thought like them, you would also be confused and terrified.

Yet-

You don’t have to be a genius to know it's a mere copycat.

For starters, a true killer would never change the storytelling of their kill within such a slim window, and even if they did, their true dedication would never change to such a drastic contrast as the recent kills showcased.

Whereas the real Ghostface would play with their victim and start off by only slicing nonthreatening veins in a close to surgical precision, this new imitator would finish them off by mere coincidence, there was no way for them to keep control over their victim´s lifespan with the rouge slashes that the news spoke of.

Whomever this copycat was, they were sloppy and attention-seeking.

The real Ghostface has been killing for over five years at this point, and still, they remain unknown.

This copycat will probably be busted before Halloween even takes place.

However, you would be lying if you said it didn’t concern you a bit; at least with the real Ghostface you knew when to expect havoc and you could take precautions to keep the ones you love safe.

A copycat is not as easy.

With keys in the form of pepper spray, you keep caution locked inside your heart, as you continue your trudge toward Wanda´s house.

The plastic canister rattles with every step, weighing down your right pocket as it slams against you. The frequency of each click changes depending on the asphalt, and as you step foot on the wooden porch it settles with one final clack against your midthigh.

With Halloween just around the corner, you have come to reiterate the tradition between yourself and the redhead. That tradition being to watch all your favorite horror movies the night before Halloween.

It started because you would both be busy, trick-or-treating and partying the night of and it would be a waste not to celebrate such a strange day with your favorite person.

Or, she would be busy trick-or-treating and partying, while you stayed at home worrying about her with your doors double locked and the porch lights off. You like Halloween, you just prefer to stay home and be comfortable, rather than to fit into a tight outfit and worry if too much or too little of your ass is showing. 

You ring the doorbell on Wanda's ridiculously decorated door and wait while the creepy plastic skeleton stares you down from where there would usually be a wreath.

You don’t have to wait long, and soon you can hear subtle footsteps close in on where your feet are planted to stained wood.

It's Mrs. Maximoff that opens. Her tone is gentle as she acknowledges you, “Hey Sweetie, Wanda is just in her room, go right ahead.”

She lets you in with a warm, welcoming smile and a pat on your shoulder. Her hand settles something within you that you can’t explain, and you smile back. You thank her and climb up the stairs of their expensive house.

You can’t help but feel more at home here than at your actual home as your fingers run along the intricate design in the stairs railing.

You like Mrs. Maximoff.

Ever since you were little you have been best friends with Wanda. When Wanda´s mother and father realized you were often alone as a child due to an absent father and an avoidant mother, they took you in and quickly became your pseudo-family.

You will always look up to Mrs. and Mr. Maximoff for their help and welcoming presence, but it was different with Wanda.

Her parents treated you as their daughter and you felt immensely grateful and happy to be a part of it, but Wanda has never been like a sister to you. Even when you were kids, she was always so much more to you, though as much as it breaks your heart, you can never tell her that.

You shake your thoughts off as you enter Wanda's bedroom to find her changing.

Your eyes kiss the back of your skull with how hard they roll from her antics. “I know you could hear me walking up and yet you still chose the last second possible to put your clothes on.”

The light from outside her ginormous window encapsulates her body perfectly as your eyes dance over the expanse of her stomach while you chuckle to yourself.

Wanda snickers as she pulls the hem of her t-shirt down, not all the way, she leaves a couple of inches ridding up her sides, just enough to tease you.

A sultry voice carries over the room and blesses your ears, “Well, I gotta give my little pervert a show, don’t I?” Wanda smiles with mirth and you return it.

This girl, you think to yourself.

Playing it cool you answer the way you usually do. “Pretty sure you are the pervert in this equation.” You say with a shrug.

It's now Wanda's turn to roll her eyes as she lays down, with a pat on the bed she signals for you to do the same.

“Potato potahto,” her light laugh floats around the room as you settle yourself beside her, you can’t help but lift your lips into a gentle smile as the redhead laughs to herself at her stupidity.

You missed her, you hung out just the other day, but you miss her on a deeper level.

It has been like this for a while, so you push it down as you stare up at the ceiling.

An array of pictures, posters, and drawings of the infamous Ghostface stare right back at you. One shift of your view and the very same can be said for every other surface within her room. From the ceiling to her desk to her bedside drawer, it’s all covered with different illustrations of the cold-blooded murderer.

Ever since that Halloween five years ago, Wanda has had a deep obsession with the Ghostface killer. An unhealthy obsession, you think to yourself as your eyes sone in to see a new replica of the Ghostface mask on Wanda's desk.

With a sigh, you look over at Wanda with disapproval at the new addition.

Wanda pretends not to see you.

You know to tread carefully around this subject, but you can’t help yourself and you lean up on your elbows and voice your disdain for her “hobby”.

“Wands, we talked about this.”

She pushes herself up on her elbows and slaps your arm gently. “It's not that bad,” she gives you her best puppy dog eyes, but you don’t budge.

“It's wrong that’s what it is, you can't simp over a real killer Wanda. It's not right” You can see irritation build in her delicate features as she thinks your words over.

“You are just jealous I am giving someone else attention.” She huffs. You know she doesn't mean it like that, but it stings when it’s put so bluntly. There is a hint of truth in what she says, but you ignore it.

“I am not jealous; you are just sick.” You say it in a lighthearted manner, but you can tell Wanda does not appreciate the call out.

“No, what is sick is what that dickhead would have done had Ghostface not killed him that night.” You have to agree with her on that part. So, you nod, but make sure to add a

“Still.”

Sensing that this is not the right time, you change the subject by asking what movie to start with.

“Same as always dumbass,” Wanda giggles as she gets up to retrieve her computer. Already set up with Friday the 13th.

A heavy sigh echoes throughout your empty home as you drag your hands down your face in frustration.

The night has dragged on for far too long. Kids and teenagers alike running up and down the streets for hours on end sure can piss you off.

You have been camping on your couch the entire night, making sure to keep the news on as you scroll through social media.

Wanda said she had some family over, so you don’t have to worry about her this year.

Which is a relief, you aren’t really in the mood for an extra adventure today anyway, it's been forever since you could just stay home the entire Halloween night.

Even so, unease has plagued you ever since the night started.

It's strange, the copycat and the original have not shown their face today. The night is almost over, but only party drama and yelling neighbors have been reported on. The original is one thing, but you were sure the copycat would take advantage of the night. Surely this build-up hasn't been for nothing?

You are almost disappointed.

In the mood for something to do you get around to making dinner, it may be the middle of the night, but like the nocturnal creature you are you don’t care either way. You never had a routine, not until you started hanging out at Wanda’s house, so some habits are hard to lose.

You are just finishing up with the dishes when your phone calls. The newly dried plate clatters as you put it down. You dry your hands with the kitchen towel, the material is rough and scratchy as your hands glide against it, then once your hands are fully dry you make your way over to the couch where your abounded phone lays.

Peering down at the metal thing you tilt your head in confusion.

The caller ID is unfamiliar. 

Usually, you wouldn’t bother picking up, but for some reason today was different. So, with an uncertain sigh, you shrug the chills that prickle your spine off and answer.

“Hello?”

Your brows furrow when silence hangs in the air. Just as you are about to hang up a deep voice answers.

“Hello, is Ms. y/l/n there?” You narrow your eyes as the voice questions you.

You don’t trust it; your mother always insists on people calling her by her first name.

You can't even remember the last time you heard someone call her by her last. It must be a work call then, maybe your mother mixed your numbers up. Something even more peculiar, you are not even sure she knows your number.

You right your posture and lean more heavily on your right foot, shifting your weight. Already suspicious, you make sure to answer vaguely.

Whomever they are, you aren’t interested in talking much more.

“No, I'm sorry. This is her daughter, I can give you her number if you would like?” You can hear a puff of laughter on the other end. Their tone unsettles you.

“Aah, so you must be y/n. I have heard quite a bit about you.” Your grip tightness against the offending object as the person on the other line lies to you. Your mother barely acknowledges your existence, and there is no way she talks about you.

Even family members have been blindsided when they heard your mother had a child. You were seven at the time.

Something is definitely off.

“Who is this?”

Now fully engaged in this mystery of a conversation you turn off the TV and leave the living room, intending to end this conversation swiftly, after getting some questions answered, and going to bed. Its only 1 a.m., but all the noise has been wearing you thin the entire day.

Again, there is a long silence before they answer.

“I'm your mom's friend.” They don’t add anything beyond that. You know they are lying; no one calls your mother by her last name if they are her friends. You are curious as to what they could want, however, so you keep the conversation going.

“Oh, really? What's your name?” You subconsciously cross your left arm over your right while holding the phone tightly to your ear.

“You can call me Mike.”

You blink, stopping in the middle of ascending the staircase.

“Mike?”

“Yes.”

You remove the phone from your ear and look at it briefly before answering.

“Mike is the only name you could think of? Really Wanda?”

You smirk, continuing your travels up the steep staircase and turning left toward your room as silence hangs between the two of you.

“…”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” Wanda avoids your question by asking her own.

You bite your lip; satisfied with yourself. You let the soft plush of your clean sheets engulf you as you lay down. Then, and only then, do you choose to entertain this mood of hers.

“SpongeBob” Wanda will find that reference hilarious, you were nine when she introduced the show to you. You had nightmares about that damn sponge for weeks, there was just something about him.

That’s why it takes you by surprise when the voice seems angered by your response.

“This is not the time for games!”

You agree, you are far too tired for these mind games so if this is how she wants to play this then fine.

“Fine, how about this? Who is your favorite killer?” You put extra flair of dramatics into your voice while you question her. The dramatized voice paired with trivia questions comes naturally to you after watching all types of trivia game night shows with Wanda throughout the years.

“I asked you first.” Childish.

“No, you asked me what my favorite horror movie is, I answered.” You thought it over, “Oh well I answered a show, but you get what I mean. Now I want you to answer my question.”

There was a tense rustling on the other end and stomping footsteps before it got silent, and the answer was a mere whisper. “Ghostface.”

Not very surprising. You smile to yourself as you roll over on your stomach and fiddle with your duvet. You wonder what she is up to.

“It's my turn now,” the deep voice darkened, “Why did Ghostface kill that boy five years ago?”

Your body tenses. You don’t like where this is going, so you play dumb. “How am I supposed to know?”

The voice gets louder. “Answer me!”

You feel yourself tighten a little at her tone, what is she getting at? “Look Wanda I don’t know what you want. I don’t know why Ghostface killed Vision.”

All background noise disappears from the call, you can’t even hear breathing. Then, a strained voice, like cat claws on a chalkboard, speaks up.

“Wrong answer.”

Before you can reply, the phone call ends.

You debate with yourself on whether or not to call Wanda, she usually plays some prank now and then, but this was something else.

You don’t have time to think about it before a knock can be heard on your front door. An unpleasant feeling pools in the bottom of your stomach as you try to ignore it. Plenty of children can’t take a hint and come here looking for candy, you rationalize with yourself.

You are just paranoid.

The knocking doesn't stop, however. You puff your chest before getting up and deciding to put an end to this. When you unlock and tear open the door, intending to give a stern talking to whatever kids were up so late, you are stunned at the lack of anyone.

You slam your door closed and lock it. Whomever they were, they were messing with you. Probably just some bored teens from your high school, or Wanda. Either way, if you didn’t react, they were sure to get bored.

As you head back upstairs the pieces of the puzzle take place.

The voice, Ghostface was known for using a voice box and calling their victims with stupid trivia questions. You knew this well, you just didn’t expect it to happen to you.

You are three steps up the stairs when you hear your door unlock.

You snap your head to the sound. Only three people have the keys to your house: yourself, your mother, and Wanda. You know Wanda likes her fun, but she wouldn’t take it this far.

The handle doesn't move. You wonder if you imagined it all together? No this isn’t right. You scan your surroundings before going back to the door.

Sure enough, both locks were undone.

“Enough!” You hate to admit it, but you were getting nervous.

“Whoever the fuck you are, fuck off!”

You can hear your phone go off in your room, “Damn it,” you curse yourself for never taking it with you as you again lock the door. The cold metal does little to settle you as you triple-check that you indeed have locked the door.

Then, taking a glass from the kitchen, you rigg it up on the front door handle. Some kids don’t know when they have taken it too far, so you have to make sure to be one step ahead.

Like always.

You walk deadly silent as you go to get your phone, now that you have finally caught on, you have no doubt of what game will start once you pick up the phone.

You are being hunted.

Despite the consequences, when you see the lit up screen atop your duvet, you don’t hesitate. You slide your thumb over the screen, picking up the call.

All the while, you keep moving.

“What do you want?”

The voice sounds rough and excited. “Me? I am just trying to get someone's attention.”

Go figure. The one Halloween you just wanted to spend in peace the damn copycat has to target you.

“Right. The infamous copycat is it? So is it like a kink or..?”

You are standing in your kitchen now, if they want to play, you’ll play.

You tighten your hands into fits as you anticipate the comeback.

“Cheeky. No, I am just trying to prove a theory.” This bitch.

You can hear heavy breathing on the other end like they are running… Or have just stopped.

You grab the strongest knife in your drawer. Then you put it back.

It’s a risky move you know, but you also know that no one ever thinks of the back door leading into the woods and it's safer for you to run than fight.

At least for now.

Besides, what’s the fun of ending it this early?

“And what do I have to do with this theory?” You chew your lip in annoyance as you lean your body weight forward. Ready to bounce any second now.

“You don’t, you are just an easy target.” This absolute fucking bitch.

“What theory is it that you are trying to prove? Trying to test Ghostface's ability to kill or something? There can only be one or whatever?” You try to keep calm, but you can hear your own voice echo on their side, you sound pathetic, with your breathing fast and escalating by the second.

“Don’t be jealous, this will be over soon.” They have no idea.

The glass shatters and you run.

You don’t even think about it, you dash straight out the back door and into the thick forest surrounding your home.

It doesn’t take long before you can hear them close behind.

The voice box activates. “There is no point in running!”

Truly an amateur, everyone knows running will be your safest bet when you don’t have a weapon. Fighting should always be the last resort when you are inferior to the killer. It's basic movie logic.

You run until you see it. Your safe haven.

The shed.

The shed creaks open and slams shut as you barricade the door. You have been trying to hold it together all night, but now that you stand there surrounded by your darkest secret and seconds away from revealing it to the psycho copycat, you can't help it.

You are getting excited.

It's been ages since you got to play, and there is no need to run now. They are about to enter your territory; they will be inferior.

You have just finished getting ready when you hear the door kick in. Just as expected the killer stops as soon as they take in their surroundings.

Got you.

The copycat threads carefully, the shed is unexpected. Unfaired territory, filled with… Filled with Ghostface?

The shed is a rundown, abandoned, shit box the copycat has never seen anyone use. Yet here it stands, filled to the brim with every crime and murder Ghostface has ever committed.

As their eyes glide over the various papers and pictures strewn about, they are riddled with confusion. Everything is written in more detail than what they could ever put together themselves. They have read all the pieces of information out there, yet they don’t even know half of the scribbled and planned murders that litter the walls and table.

It only takes a moment for it to set in.

They just walked into the fucking lion's den.

And you will show no mercy.

The copycat freezes as a voice rings through the still air.

“Don’t look so disappointed. You are getting what you want, aren’t you?”

It’s delicious really, the way you stalk your prey as they flail their head around trying to locate you in the dark shed. Your infamous knife is strongly gripped in your right hand, then with a deliberate creak of wood beneath your feet the copycat wooshes their body toward you.

As your eyes connect, they start walking backward, startled by your closeness.

Their knife drops to the ground as you trudge forward. God, there is nothing quite like the sight of them shivering beneath their poorly made mask.

A mask you have most definitely seen before.

They walk straight into your little homemade table and you take the advantage to press your body into theirs. Your masks; almost touching.

“Tell me,” you raise your hands to their covered face. Slowly peeling the mask off as you continue. “What theory was it you wanted to prove? Hm?”

Just as red hair reveals itself a hand takes hold of your wrist to stop you from going any farther. That’s fine by you, you know they didn’t realize when you deactivated the voice box.

Nagging them on you continue, “Don’t leave me hanging, what do you want to know? I might just answer it before I cut your pretty tongue out.” You hold the knife up to their face before slowly dragging it down the mouth of their mask and leaving it just under their jaw.

Wanda's meek voice responds.

“I- I I didn’t mean too- too-“

You mock her “too- too-?” “Spit it out pretty girl.” You dig the knife in, just a little.

Too lost in the situation, Wanda hasn't caught onto her voice filling the room.

“Why do you keep killing for me?” So, the age-old question is finally voiced out loud.

You smile beneath your mask. You consider lying, but it's Wanda.

“Because I can.”

Truth be told, it started when you saw the football jock Vision put his hands on Wanda five years ago at a random Halloween party. After that night it evolved.

It just feels right to kill for the things you love.

You don’t let Wanda query anymore, taking hold of her mask you rip it off, revealing her tear-stained cheeks and scared eyes. You have to resist digging the knife in harder, yet it still digs minuscule more. Just enough for one drop.

A single drop of blood that slides onto your gloved finger.

Your eyes snap toward the red drop as it disappears against your black glove, as the dampness against your finger hits you, you can’t resist anymore.

Wanda lets out a squeak as you push her onto the table. Your knife never leaving her pale skin. Using your weight against her to keep her compliant, you straddle her. Leaning closer to her, you force eye contact by pulling her hair just right.

You want her to look at you. You want her to see you the way she did when you killed that pathetic football jock.

Wanda is not one to disappoint, her blown pupils are a window to exactly what you want.

Her feelings are on clear display; she is scared, yet deeply aroused.

Your gloved hand drags the tip of your knife down her body until you are hovering over her covered breasts. With your left hand, you clutch the fabric of her gown, cutting it open with the knife held in your right. Wanda whines as she squirms to get away from you.

You laugh at her pathetic little sounds as you forcefully grab her by the chin.

You lift your mask, only enough for your mouth to be seen, and you press your lips against Wanda´s quivering ones. She only resists for a moment, and then a delectable moan vibrates against you.

You return it when you push your tongue into her sweet, hot, mouth. You swirl your tongue around while your hands rip open her outfit. You let your hands glide and grope as they please and soon you feel her bra-clad breasts heavy in your hands. You let the knife slice her bra like butter.

You break the kiss to give your full attention to the sinful heaven exposed in front of you. Wanda turns her head away from you as she catches her breath, you let her. The only thought occupying your mind is how you will destroy her so sweetly tonight.

After keeping yourself at bay for so long, there is only so much you can do when she whorishly seeks you out. And in such a rude manner too. She was using you to get to, well you, but she didn’t know that. A punishment needs to be set in place; one you will have no regret enforcing.

You settle your mask back in place as you stand and move away from the poor birdy.

She looks up in confusion and disappointment when you go.

Picking up Wanda’s knife and walking over to an armchair nestled in the corner of your den Wanda struggles to sit up as her chest heaves with each manual breath, uncertain of what you want, as you study her from your corner.

You point her knife towards the open door. “Close it.”

Unsurprisingly, Wanda hesitates before complying. You tsk in disapproval, Wanda moves just a tiny bit faster at the sound. It's flimsy, the way she has to wobble her way over as her shredded clothes gather just before her thighs.

After it's properly closed you instruct Wanda to lock it using the plank you point out. This time she does it in a timelier manner.

After it's done she takes a timid step towards you and you nod in approval.

However, when the redhead tries removing your mask you take ahold of her wrist and bend it until she yelps in pain. The surge of power and arousal that shoots through you almost makes you lose your calm, but you soldier on.

Your gaze remains unfaced as she sniffles in pain. “You don’t get to touch me.” You say as a matter of fact.

“Why not,” tears gleam in the redhead’s eyes as she whines.

“Because only good girls get to touch their Mistress.” Wanda whimpers at your words. Her knees buckle and her nipples harden. You put the knives between the cushions of the rough chair.

You will need both of your hands for this.

As she stands there you can't help but admire her. She looks just the way you imagined she would. Her frame is perfection, even with her clothes hanging off her and tear stains gleaming on her flushed cheeks. You want to eat her up. But first, her punishment.

You act unbothered as you command her.

“Kneel.” Wanda’s eyes widen as her desperation dampens her underwear.

There is a dull thud as Wanda’s knees connect with the water-damaged wood planks. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from singing her praise for such a simple task, but you can’t help it when you automatically pet her hair gently in reward.

You think of all the times you dreamed of holding her like the pet she is. Your palm smoothes her hair down while you mule over how long it's been since you had a good orgasm. When she´s putty beneath you, you grab a fist full of red tresses and roughly pull her closer to your crotch.

Taking the hint Wanda lifts your dark gown and gasps at the lack of underwear. It's cute that she convinced herself you believed the copycat was anyone but her. This punishment has been long in the planning.

You push more intently on her. “Don’t stop now. Be a good whore and mistress may give you a reward.”

You are glad you kept the mask on as you drool looking down at her while she gets to work. She’s so tiny and irrelevant, one calculated squeeze and you can have her begging for her life while she eats you out. The power imbalance is almost enough to make you cum before Wanda can put her talents to use.

When Wanda's hot mouth makes contact with your folds, sucking and teasing you, you have half the mind to tie her down and force her to watch while you fuck yourself with your fingers. However, you can't resist her when she finally sucks your clit into her keen, wet, fuck-hole.

You wonder if she has done this before as it only takes a minute for your eyes to roll into your skull. Jealousy takes hold of you at the thought.

Pushing the redhead away from yourself, sooner than she can get a word out, you lay her onto her back on the cold floor and straddle her face. Wanda goes to grab your hips, but you force her down. Holding her wrists over her head you instruct her to stay still.

You can’t help but tease her by riding the air just higher than what Wanda's greedy tongue can reach. You drag your body slowly back and forth sensually, making sure to let some breathy moans and groans rile her up.

“I thought I told you to be good.” You tighten the grip around her wrists in warning.

Wanda, who had been slowly trying to lean upward, lowers herself. She is smart enough to act remorseful, you decide to let it go this once. Far more concerned with satisfying your thirst you take your seat right on Wanda’s waiting mouth.

Wanda makes the jealousy easier as she moans loudly into your pussy while pushing her tongue against your hard clit. It's erotic the way Wanda’s hips buck aimlessly while your juices drip down her chin.

The harsh oak makes your knees sting and you can only imagine how Wanda's back must feel. Of course, Wanda is too far gone, she’s moaning and rocking against the air with her eyes closed.

With this small turn of events, your punishment needs an adjustment.

So, you improvise. Originally you were going to make her fuck you until you ran out of cum. However, being on the floor may prove to make that difficult.

The jingle of the whore’s boobs, whilst she tries humping anything she can get between her legs, does give you an idea.

Leaning back you mindlessly search the chair. When your hand connects with the handle of a familiar steel knife you grab on. Keeping it behind your back so as to not let the redhead get a peak. You doubt she can see it even if she wants to, too deep in your cunt for her to see anything. Besides, she has her eyes closed as a bead of sweat runs down her forehead.

She continues lapping up your wetness like a dog, none the wiser as you debate on whether or not to hold the knife against her jugular. Reflecting over it, she has been good, so you keep the knife behind you.

If only to use it if she misbehaves.

Misbehaving seems to be the last thing on her mind however, she is devouring your pussy like it’s the last meal on earth. When she introduces her nose into the mix, bumping it into your clit while you ride her tongue, white-hot pleasure runs through you.

Sounds, like you have never heard yourself make, escape before you even think to stop them. Your toes are close to curling and tension tightens in your lower back. Yet you rearrange yourself away from the redhead's hungry mouth, now is not the time.

After Wanda finishes gasping for air that you hadn’t allowed her, her eyes fly open at the lack of your taste.

You stand over her.

Scrunching her eyebrows together, the redhead whines in confusion, but you ignore her in favor of fixing your outfit. Like the good girl you know she is, Wanda stays in place. All fight evaporated as soon as you touched her. You can’t help but scoff at how easy she is.

She looks like a bitch in heat, panting and twitching as you stand over her with your knife gripped like a phyton.

You tilt your head. The torn rags still holding on by a thread annoy you. “Take your clothes off.”

Wanda's eyes lack any thought as she heeds to your every whim.

She removes the cheap outfit slowly, pushing it off her shoulders and down her waist, over her ass, and past her legs. She removes her ruined bra next, sliding it off each arm and letting it fall into a heap beside her.

You sneer at her disobedience.

“All of it.” You accompany the words with a snap of your fingers.

There is a long silence while the demand sinks into her empty head. Then like lighting, Wanda takes off her soaked underwear.

She trembles as you leisurely walk around her, tapping the knife in a set rhythm against your hand.

You soak in her completely nude and vulnerable frame.

Just how you like her.

Stopping in front of Wanda´s open legs. Her body is begging for you to touch her, she is heaving, drooling, desperate. And you have no plan on soothing it.

Ever since you were younger Wanda has always been a particularly touchy person, she needs human touch to function. Without it, she can't do certain things. Like how she refuses to take a walk unless you hold her hand, and how you can see her struggle to get up and shower if you don’t promise cuddles after.

That’s why when you found her little devious plan three months ago you decided the only punishment fit for a sadist like her would be to remove all sense of touch. Deprive her of the one thing she needs to cum, your touch.

You return to your chair, mask back in place, knife tightly gripped.

“Touch yourself.”

Wanda swallows thickly as she watches you beneath heavy lids before nodding to herself.

You have seen the way, Wanda slowly gathers her wetness and spreads it around her libido while her breath turns shallow, many times. You can’t count how many times you silently sneaked into her bedroom, always mindful of what floorboards would give you away.

You have seen the way she struggles when she gets close. So close, yet so far away. Alone and desperate.

This is different, this time she is doing it for you and only you.

Wanda never breaks eye contact through the black mesh of your mask. It's only when she pinches her clit that her head gets thrown back and a prolonged moan emits from her that she can’t keep her act up. She is close, but if you play your cards right, she won’t be going over.

You dig the knife into the armrest and swirl it back and forth, fiddling like you're bored.

Wanda’s eyes burn holes in your mask as she studies you from where she sits just a few feet away, but you overlook her.

Wanda, very much, does not like this newfound disinterest you have in her. She speeds up her fingers, moving them clockwise and pressing down hard. Every time she tries to get your attention by moaning louder or trying to press her foot into your boot you tune her out and move away.

Just as you thought, when the redhead’s orgasm approaches, she struggles. Her moans of pleasure turn into whines of frustration, and you don’t look at her. You keep your focus on the knife. This is where the real punishment starts, one mistake from you and you know she will have no issue falling over the edge and screaming her pleasure for the entire world to hear.

No, you will make her suffer, if only a little.

After all the running you have had to do tonight you are making sure she will be left breathless and exhausted before an orgasm is in order.

For ten minutes you distract yourself, for ten minutes Wanda balances painfully on the edge of pleasure.

You only take pity on her when she taps the floor twice.

Raising your eyes you see Wanda with fresh tear tracks running down her cheeks while her fingers work overtime trying to move faster than you have ever seen them move before. You have to hold back a moan at the sight.

You stand slowly, dragging every movement out. Wanda stares wide-eyed and hopeful as she cries from the pain and pleasure. You make your way between spread legs and crouth down to her eye level. Lifting her chin with the tip of your knife, she stops her movements.

Good.

You know you have her attention now.

Without uttering a word, you remove your mask with your unoccupied hand.

As soon as your face is free of its confinement and Wanda sees you in all your mad beauty, a moan so deep and sonorous it leaves her dumbfounded, fills the damp air.

While she is distracted by the new sound, she can make, you hold eye contact and leave the knife in place. Without looking, you reach down and pinch her neglected clit so hard she screams.

She comes so hard she sees stars.

Wanda is a heap of moans and whines as your gloved fingers pet her folds and clit gently, bringing her down, it takes multiple minutes before her vision returns.

When she gets back to herself you are lying on top of her and petting her sides. She doesn't even realize she is crying until you carefully wipe her tears away while praising her.

“There you go, baby.”

“It's okay, you did so well.”

“Mistress is very proud of you.”

“Just breathe for me, honey.”

“That’s it honey, good job.” You sooth her while she gathers herself. She came for a full three minutes before she promptly passed out. As worried as you were in the moment, you have to admit you are a little proud of yourself.

That is definitely the hardest you have ever seen her cum.

After a while, you can hear her mumble something.

“What’s that baby?”

Wanda, in a surprising turn of events, locks you against her chest and flips you both. You blink up at her as she giggles from your tense reaction.

“Sorry,” you watch her giggle to herself, and you know for a fact she is not sorry, “I couldn’t help it, you just look so cute when you are surprised.”

You grin with her, but you also grab the knife beside you and lift it to her neck. She quickly stops laughing, but she isn’t scared. Not anymore.

“Behave, don’t forget who´s in charge here.” You fix her with a stern glance.

Wanda deflates a little, but her hands never leave you. She trails her hands up and down your body, groping everything she can. You dig the knife deep enough to where she has to stay still if she wants to keep her vocal cords.

Wanda mewls, “please.”

You roll your eyes at her. “Please what?”

“Please can I touch you, Mistress?”

You smirk, “You are touching me.” The disappointment rolls off Wanda in waves, but she knows what she needs to do.

Not wanting to actually hurt the redhead you had loosened your pressure without realizing it, Wanda uses that to her advantage.

The deviant redhead swiftly moves your hand out of her way to attack your mouth with a round of kisses. She then pushes her tongue in and swirls it teasingly around yours. You moan into her as she grinds her leg against your covered clit.

You let this go on until you need her inside you.

Clutching the fine hairs at the back of her neck you tear her away from yourself. You tighten until she wheezes, then you speak.

“If you ever disobey me like this again I will tie you down with a vibrator and leave you like that for hours. Do you understand me?” The redhead nods as best as she can.

You let go of her neck only to grab her hair again. You stand, dragging her with you. “Sit.” You point at the chair as you let go.

Wanda obediently listens without defiance this time.

“You are lucky,” you tell her as you straddle her thighs.

“If I wasn’t in the mood for an orgasm I would have you over my knee now.” You grind into her lap as you speak. This time when Wanda goes to grab you, you let her.

Wanda controls your hips as you pound yourself into her lap. She is more than eager to comply when you command her to put a finger in.

You ride her until you can't take it anymore and reach down to draw tight circles over your forgotten clit.

You cum so fast it almost gives you whiplash. Wanda moans with you as clear liquid coats her hand.

You both fall into an exhausted pile of post-orgasm bliss as you settle. Wanda cuddles into you and you lean your chin atop her head. She nuzzles into your neck and sighs with satisfaction.

You are half-dosing when a giggle abrupts from the girl in your arms. You look down at her with a confused tilt to your head. Wanda is already grinning up at you.

“Same time next year?” You laugh at your girlfriend of six years and nod while kissing her sweaty forehead.

[Completed]

PART I

PART II 

PART III 

PART IV 

PART V 

PART VI 

PART VII 

PART VIII 

PART IX (**)

Wanda let out a sigh and waved her hand at the bartender who didn’t even need to ask as he took a bottle of whiskey and refilled Wanda’s glass. 

She was back in Westview for a stupid high school reunion at a school she didn’t even go to. Pietro forced her to come after his wife got sick and was unable to attend. Wanda worked so hard to get out of Westview, and even being back here for just three days was already bringing up a bunch of unwanted memories.

Her brother’s high school was having their reunion in two days, while her school was having its reunion three days after. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Even being in Westview was putting her at risk of running into her old classmates. She thought she was doing amazing now, but that didn’t mean she wanted to run into anyone from her old school. 

Her anxiety was at an all time high. The best day of her life was when she graduated high school because she was finally able to leave and have a new start. What in the world made her brother think she’d want to go back when all her old classmates would be going back as well?

At first she thought it wasn’t going to be all bad. All she had to do was stay home the entire time they were there. She didn’t have to risk going out and accidentally running into someone from her old school; that part was completely avoidable.

Then her brother decided, that night, that he was going to meet up with all his old friends earlier than they planned. What was the point of the reunion then? Now, Wanda should have just stayed back home with her parents, but they were having their friends over for a weekly game night, and she wasn’t really interested in having them force her to join them just because she was an adult now.

So here she was, sitting alone at a bar and praying to god that none of her old classmates walked in, even though Wanda wasn’t even religious.

“You look like you’re having a great night.” Wanda furrowed her eyebrows and turned to her right where the voice came from.

Her eyes widened when she saw an incredibly beautiful woman leaning against the bar with a smile that almost made Wanda melt in her seat. She didn’t think it was possible for someone as gorgeous as her to exist in Westview, because she certainly doesn’t remember ever seeing someone this beautiful when she lived here.

“Would you mind if I joined you? I heard misery loves company.” The woman asked in a sweet tone with a tilt of her head. Wanda found that she didn’t quite have the proper words to say to this woman, so she dumbly nodded her head instead of risking saying something stupid.

Though that seemed to be enough, because the woman’s smile widened at her wordless response. Her eyes looked down to the bar and she nodded at Wanda as sort of a sign of respect.

“Whiskey, huh? To be honest, at first glance, you seemed like the fruity cocktail type of person to me. Which isn’t bad, but I’m pleasantly surprised.” The woman said as she pushed herself off the bar and went to take a seat.

It was normal bar etiquette to leave at least one seat in between each person sitting at the bar unless it was completely full, but this woman disregarded that rule completely and went to sit on the stool right next to Wanda on her left.

“I’ll have the same.” She said to the bartender once she got his attention, gesturing over to Wanda which made the bartender nod and hand her a glass, filling it up with Whiskey.

The woman thanked the man and took a sip before turning to Wanda, that same charming and heart-melting smile gracing her lips. Wanda was far too taken by her beauty, which was making her stand out from the rest of the dark patrons in that dingy bar, to realize that she’s been staring dumbfounded this entire time.

“Am I distracting you?” The way her smile turned into a teasing one made Wanda finally snap out of her daze. 

She could feel her face begin to heat up in embarrassment once she realized that the woman was aware that she was staring because of her features, and she wanted to melt once more, this time six feet into the ground.

“N-No! You’re not distracting at all.” Wanda stammered in embarrassment, making the woman laugh through her nose in amusement.

“Well, I’m glad to have your attention now.” Her voice was smooth and her tone was confident, but not in a smug way. Everything from her posture, to her smile, and down to her tone; Wanda could tell that this woman knew of the effect she had on people, and she didn’t mind one bit. 

Something about that made Wanda very nervous, whether it be from intimidation or from something else entirely. The alcohol in her system and the weirdly gorgeous woman in front of her was preventing her from thinking straight, so she didn’t know what that something else was quite yet.

“Or not. It seems I distracted you again.” The woman said with a laugh that made Wanda’s heart flutter, and she had to take a sharp intake of breath to stop herself from making more of a fool of herself than she already has.

“I am so sorry, I’m being so rude right now just staring at you like you’re some object to gawk at.” Wanda rambled on embarrassedly with a nervous laugh as she reached for her drink and took a large sip. She was bad enough with regular people alone, but it’s like Wanda has completely forgotten how to interact with people now that she’s faced with someone so attractive.

“Well, I happen to find your eyes very pretty, so I don’t exactly mind having you gawk at me.” She said, making Wanda laugh because she didn’t know how else to respond.

She then froze when the woman leaned forward, their noses were practically touching from the lack of space. Wanda found herself completely clueless on what to do. She was completely still because the woman’s sparkling eyes were staring right into the depths of her soul.

“It’s a very beautiful shade of green.” The woman said before leaning back and sending Wanda a polite smile. Wanda took another sip of her drink. Though gulp was probably the more appropriate word.

“Y/n. Y/n L/n.” She said with a bat of her eyelashes as she held her hand out to Wanda. She didn’t know why she was so surprised at how soft Y/n’s hands were, because why wouldn’t they be?

“Wanda Maximoff.” A slow smile made its way onto Y/n’s face and she tilted her head at Wanda, squeezing her hand before slipping it out of her grasp, her fingers lingering on hers for a moment before they pulled away, lightly brushing against Wanda’s hand and making goosebumps appear on her arms.

“Maximoff.” She said slowly, as if to test the name on her tongue, then resting her elbow against the bar before leaning her cheek against her fist.

“I haven’t heard that name in so long.” Wanda may have been near drunk and completely allured by how slow and sultry Y/n’s voice was when she said those words, but her last functioning half brain cell still had the capability of making her confused by the statement.

“You must be Pietro’s wife then?” Y/n said, with a tilt at the end of her sentence, making it into a question instead of a statement as if she wasn’t quite sure. The comment made Wanda scrunch her face up in disgust.

“No, he’s my brother. Twin brother actually.” Wanda said and Y/n’s eyebrows raised in surprise at her response.

“Oh? I didn’t know he had a sister, let alone a twin. That explains the uncanniness in appearance though.” Y/n said, looking like she was connecting the dots in her head to make sure. Wanda could see the exact moment she was as another smile appeared on her face.

“I’m guessing you’re the prettier twin, then?” Y/n asked, sending Wanda a playful look with a slight pout sitting on her lips. The comment made Wanda momentarily forget about the fact that this stranger knew her brother as another nervous laugh left her mouth. She needs to stop doing that.

“People usually call him that.” Wanda said and a small “huh” left Y/n’s lips as the hand she was resting her cheek on went to grab her whiskey.

“Well,” Y/n said as she looked down to slightly swirl her whiskey before looking up at Wanda through her eyelashes, “People are usually wrong.” She said as she took a long sip of her wine without breaking eye contact with Wanda.

Wanda had never made anyone look so intensely at her like that before, and it made her gulp down nervously. When she finished drinking, Y/n smiled at Wanda and raised her eyebrows at her, before returning to her position from earlier with her cheek resting against her fist. Everything she was doing was so casual, but it made Wanda’s heart race and her brain malfunction.

But Wanda needed to get it together. There was still the matter of this woman knowing who her brother was even though Wanda has never seen her before in her life.

“How do you know my brother?” Wanda asked the other woman and a small smile appeared on her face.

“We were… “Acquaintances” in high school.” She talked slowly every time she spoke. It made Y/n seem sophisticated and like she was sure of everything she was saying, adding to the confident air that completely surrounded her.

“Oh, are you attending the reunion?” It would make sense why Wanda didn’t know her then. 

“Yes, actually. I thought it would be a good way to catch up with some classmates I lost touch with after graduating.” Y/n said and Wanda was about to speak again when Y/n’s hand dropped and laid itself on the bar top.

Her hand was dangerously close to Wanda’s hand; so close that Wanda was sure that if she stretched her fingers, it would touch hers. Y/n lifted her other hand and rested it on her wrist before adjusting herself in her seat so her side was leaning against the bar.

“It’s weird that I don’t know about you though. Your brother was quite the heartthrob in high school. Since you’re his twin, it’s only natural that you’d be the talk of the school. But I never heard of a Wanda Maximoff until tonight.” Y/n said, her finger tracing the wood patterns of the bar, causing Wanda’s eyes to be glued to it, her breath catching in her throat every time it came close to grazing against her.

When Y/n’s finger stopped, Wanda realized that she hadn't said anything in response to what Y/n said. She stammered for a moment and directed her attention back to Y/n. God, she was such a mess tonight. Alcohol and beautiful people didn’t mix well with her social anxiety and generally bad social skills.

“M-My brother got the scholarship to Xavier’s while I went to Midtown.” Wanda explained distractedly and Y/n let out a hum in thought as a response.

“I bet you were the most popular girl in the entire school then.” Another awkward left Wanda’s lips, but this one was weaker than the last ones.

“No, uh… Quite the opposite actually.” Wanda said, and for the first time since she sat down, Y/n looked unsure. She thought to herself for a moment before her eyebrows raised in surprise, a light chuckle of disbelief leaving her mouth while she shook her head. She leaned forward, moving her hand and carefully letting it rest on Wanda’s hand.

“Don’t tell me you were bullied.” Y/n said and Wanda inhaled deeply, moving her hand away and wiping them against her jeans as she turned her eyes to the ground in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, I should have phrased that better.” Y/n started with a genuine apologetic tone. “I wasn’t laughing at you.” Her tone was reserved, and when Wanda looked back up at her, the smile and warmth on her face disappeared and was replaced with a more neutral expression.

When their eyes met though, her eyes softened a bit as a soft sigh left her lips. “How could I laugh at someone who shares the same experiences as me?” Y/n asked and Wanda’s eyes widened once she realized what she was saying.

“No.” Wanda said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Y/n who laughed once more.

“I’m being honest, I swear.” She said in a flattered tone, but Wanda still wasn’t convinced.

“But you look so…” Wanda said as she looked Y/n up and down. No way someone like her could get bullied in high school. In fact, she looked like someone who would be a part of the group that bullied her.

“Well, I didn’t always look like this. I was a bit of a late bloomer. But if I can get someone like you to look at me like that, then things must have worked out in the end.” Y/n with a wink as a smirk appeared on her face, making Wanda’s face heat up once more.

“I really don’t mean to stare so much.” Wanda admitted in embarrassment, but thankfully, Y/n didn’t laugh or look bothered. If she did, Wanda would have died right there.

“Like I said, I don’t mind. Your staring just makes me feel better about my staring.” Wanda’s jaw slackened a bit in shock at the words, and they lowered even further when Y/n’s eyes began to roam her body, slowly moving up and down; taking her sweet time to take in every curve and dip on Wanda’s figure, not bothering to hide her blatant staring before lifting her eyes to meet Wanda’s.

“You’re exactly the type of person I would’ve had a crush on in high school. I’m starting to doubt that you and Pietro are twins, because he’s not even half as pretty as you are.” Thank god Wanda was already seated, because had she been standing otherwise, her knees would have given out and she would have fallen to the ground.

“I’ve never heard that one before.” Everyone always favored Pietro. It was only natural. Wanda loved her brother, and so did everyone else. He was charming and always knew what to say; it was hard to hate him.

He was the better looking twin, the smarter twin, the more successful twin, the funnier twin; she’s heard it all before. Wanda was used to hearing about how much her brother was better, along with the silent implication of how she was less. That’s just how it’s been this whole time. Wanda was used to living in her brother’s shadow.

But this gorgeous, confident, and charming woman was sitting in front of her, blatantly checking her out, was throwing all these compliments at her, and basically eye fucking her in the middle of this bar. Not to mention the fact that she had just told her that she thought she was better than her brother, when she probably knew him more since they literally just met.

Her brother, the one who had the super fast and expensive car, the supermodel wife, the high paying low effort job, the huge house, who has been deemed the better Maximoff twin their whole lives, was nothing to this beautiful specimen of a woman.

There were very few moments in Wanda’s life where she felt genuinely confident in herself. And it may be due to the alcohol or the anxiousness in her body that made it hard for her to think, but at that moment… She felt good.

“How about I show you instead?” Y/n said as she leaned forward and carefully inched her hand towards Wanda’s leg. She looked up at Wanda with an innocently questioning look, waiting for any sign of resignation, fear, or anything of the sort in Wanda’s features.

But Wanda was still, save for her chest which was moving heavily up and down with her staggering breath. She bit her lip slightly and stared back into Y/n’s eyes, hands twitching and fidgeting in anticipation. 

When there was no sign of protest, Y/n placed her hand on Wanda’s knee before leaning her face forward. The closer she got, the higher her hand traveled up her leg. Y/n stopped when her mouth was right next to Wanda’s ear, hand sliding into Wanda’s inner thigh and giving it a light squeeze, causing Wanda to squirm where she sat.

“...Will you let me?” What happened from that point was a complete blur for Wanda. 

She vaguely remembers nodding in response and Y/n sending her that mind blinding smile of hers before she grabbed her by the hand and dragged her out of the bar. Wanda wasn’t even sure if they had paid for their drinks, but she didn’t have room in her brain to think about that, because the entire drive to her house in Y/n’s car was spent with Wanda struggling to tell Y/n directions due to the hand that was moving up and down her thigh.

When they entered her house, Wanda let out a sigh of relief when she saw that her parents, along with their friends, were nowhere in sight. All the lights were off, but Wanda could vaguely see the empty beer cans spilling out of the trash can in the kitchen.

A gasp left Wanda’s mouth when she felt an arm snake around her waist, roughly pulling her backwards until her back was pressed against Y/n’s front. Y/n lined her face against the side of Wanda’s head and took a deep breath in through her nose. A slow and shaky exhale left her mouth from the scent of Wanda’s hair before she started peppering kisses down her cheek, to her jaw, and up and down the length of her neck.

Wanda leaned her head back, hand reaching up to the back of Y/n’s head to pull her closer while her other hand placed it over the one that was resting over her waist. Her eyes rolled back in pleasure when Y/n started sucking on her skin right where jaw met her neck below her ear, a low and guttural moan leaving her mouth. Y/n pulled away and shushed Wanda teasingly, urging her to be quiet as she pressed her body tighter against hers.

“We wouldn’t want to wake up your parents now, would we, Wanda?” Y/n spoke into Wanda’s ear, her voice low and husky as her free hand started making its way under Wanda’s blouse.

Wanda felt her breath catch in her throat when Y/n’s cold hands met her skin. Her soft hands slowly moved up from her stomach, completely disregarding Wanda’s bra and easily slipping underneath it. Her fingers spread wide before grasping onto Wanda’s breast, rolling her nipple in between her index and middle finger.

“What would your mother and father say if they came down here and saw their daughter letting herself get touched like this under their roof?” Y/n asked as she took Wanda’s nipple in her index finger and thumb, pinching hard and tugging at it while she attached her lips on the space behind her ear.

Wanda pursed her lips and shut her eyes tight, forcing her groan down but ultimately failing. It was then that she felt something pressing up against her ass when Y/n began to slowly grind her front against her back. When she realized it was a bulge, her mind was sent into a flurry, and all attempts of keeping quiet disappeared as a long moan left Wanda’s lips, turning into a gasp when Y/n thrusted into her.

Unable to contain herself, Wanda turned around and placed her hands against the side of Y/n’s face, pulling her into her until their lips met while jumping up and wrapping her legs around her waist. Y/n was quick to catch her, hands holding onto Wanda’s thighs until they moved up. 

Y/n pushed back against Wanda’s lips roughly while her hands squeezed Wanda’s ass, relishing in the way Wanda was groaning into her lips. Wanda then pulled away, hand remaining on Y/n’s cheeks while she stared deeply into those eyes that had her heart stuck in her throat despite how dark it was. 

“My parents basically fall into comas after drinking. They won’t know a thing.” She knew this because Pietro used to always bring girls over, yet her parents were convinced he lost his virginity in college. A wicked grin slowly made its way onto Y/n’s face.

“We better make the most of this then.” Y/n said, hand going to the back of Wanda’s neck and pulling her in for another searing kiss.

Wanda let her legs fall back to the ground, reluctantly pulling away from the kiss and grabbing Y/n’s hand as she started leading her over to the stairs. She barely even made it up the first step when Y/n made her turn around by pulling her back. Before she could even react, Wanda was being pressed against the wall and being pulled into another kiss.

One of Y/n’s hands was placed on the wall above Wanda’s head while the other was holding onto the side of her neck. Meanwhile, Wanda’s hands were busy running themselves up and down Y/n’s torso, taking in the shape of her body before wrapping her arms around Y/n’s neck and pulling her towards her as close as she possibly could.

Their kiss was messy, too desperate to feel each other’s lips and tongues against their skin to care about where they were aiming. With the tiniest bit of focus she could muster, Wanda started walking backwards up the stairs with Y/n following after her. Their mouths never left each other, and their hands never stopped roaming each other’s bodies despite how dangerous it was.

Proving their point, Wanda’s foot slipped on the step she took, causing her to fall backwards. Y/n was quick to place her hand behind Wanda’s head so she wouldn’t hurt herself, but she didn’t give her a chance to recover and process the fall as she leaned over her and started kissing up and down her neck.

A groan left Wanda’s mouth when she felt Y/n’s hips grinding against her, hands reaching behind her and scratching at her clothed back. Y/n’s shirt began to become untucked from Wanda’s tugging and scratching, making her hands grab Wanda’s legs from the back of her knees before pulling her against her.

Wanda gasped, her arms immediately wrapping themselves around Y/n’s neck and holding her close as she felt herself be lifted up from the stairs. She bit her lip, feeling herself grow lightheaded when the bulge in between Y/n’s legs brushed up against her core at just the perfect place, making her desperately grind against it while Y/n brought them up the stairs.

“First door… Left.” Wanda said breathlessly as she pulled back and connected her lips with Y/n. She could feel Y/n’s tongue shoot into her mouth, prodding and fighting against her own and making her moan into the kiss.

When her back pressed against the door, Wanda let her legs drop again while she reached for the doorknob. The moment her hand grabbed ahold of it, she twisted it open and grabbed Y/n by the collar, pulling her into the room with her before pushing her up against the now closed door. 

Y/n grunted as she was pushed back against the door once more when Wanda connected their lips. One hand grabbed her by the waist while the one went up from her neck to the back of her head, letting Wanda’s hair fall between the gaps of her fingers, then closing them into a fist. She pulled Wanda’s head back and attached her lips onto Wanda’s next, mouth roaming messily until she found her pulse point.

Wanda groaned, her fingernails digging into Y/n’s shoulder, only urging Y/n to suck harder. As she did though, Y/n opened her eyes and did a quick scan of the room. 

There were two twin size beds, one next to a window on the left while the other was against the wall on the right. Based on the array of trophies lined up on the shelf above the window, Y/n knew exactly which bed was whose. Her eyes hardened and the hand grabbing Wanda’s hair went down to roughly grip her shoulder.

Wanda yelped when Y/n started pushing her to walk backwards. The back of her legs met the edge of a bed, and the next thing she knew, she was being pushed down onto the soft mattress. Wanda’s eyes widened when she realized which bed she was on, and she sat up in a panic to tell Y/n that they should move.

But Y/n was already gently pushing her down by the shoulder, mouth going back to her neck while her other hand grabbed Wanda’s wrists and led them up to her breast. Her mind went completely blank with the way Y/n was sucking against her neck and Wanda let her head fall back against the pillows while her other hand went up so she could start groping at both of Y/n’s breasts.

Y/n reached down to pull her shoes and socks off before reaching up and pulling Wanda’s blouse off of her. Y/n’s hands instantly went to Wanda’s breasts, squeezing them and pushing them up while her hips thrusted against Wanda’s center. The action caused a loud moan to leave Wanda’s mouth, hands grasping at the pillows beneath her head while her back arched off of the bed.

In one swift motion, Y/n reached behind her and unhooked her bra with one hand. As Wanda’s back fell back onto the mattress, Y/n pulled the bra off of her and threw it to the side. She grabbed Wanda’s upper torso and pulled her up until her breast met her mouth.

Y/n let her nipple graze against her teeth before taking it in her mouth and sucking hard, tongue pressing and flicking the now hardened bud before moving to give attention to Wanda’s other breast. Wanda gasped and moaned, hand moving to Y/n’s hair and tugging her head up so their lips could meet.

She felt hands grab her waist before Y/n’s still clothed crotch started slowly, and painfully, grinding against her clit. Wanda gasped a moan out, trying to move her hips against Y/n’s to add more friction and keep her right where she needed her. But that only made Y/n’s grip on her waist tighten and she forced her to stay still while keeping her own pace.

Wanda’s hands trailed down from Y/n’s neck down to her shoulders, then her arms, only for her to realize that Y/n’s top was still on. Her hands went to the buttons and started attempting to get them undone, but bulge rubbing up against her clit, sending sparks up her spine, and the tongue being shoved down her throat made it hard for Wanda to coordinate her hands.

In frustration, Wanda bunched Y/n’s shirt in her hands and tore them apart, causing her buttons to fly out and her shirt to burst open. Y/n pushed herself off of Wanda and looked down at her now ruined shirt. A quick laugh of disbelief left Y/n’s mouth, her tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth as she tsk’d Wanda while shaking her head.

“I see how it is.” Y/n said in amusement as she pulled her shirt off her body and threw it to the ground, making Wanda’s heart jump in a way that excited her even further.

Y/n’s eyes had grown darker and there was a dangerous glint in her eyes that beautifully accompanied the smirk on her face. It made Wanda’s breathing become more shallow in anticipation. Slowly, Y/n began crawling over Wanda until her face was hovering above hers, hands placed right beside her head.

Y/n took in Wanda’s features in the way a predator would when assessing a potential prey, and for a second, Wanda thought Y/n was going to kiss her. Until her hand suddenly grabbed her by the jaw and pulled her up until she was right up against Y/n’s face without actually making contact with her.

“If you can’t be patient…” Y/n said through gritted teeth and forcefully turned Wanda’s head to the side, making Wanda’s heart beat faster and a pool begin to form in between her legs. 

“I’ll just give you what you want.” She whispered directly into Wanda’s ears, causing a shiver to run down Wanda’s spine.

Y/n carelessly released Wanda’s jaw, causing her to fall back roughly against the bed. Wanda was still in the middle of recovering from all that when she suddenly felt herself be pulled down slightly from Y/n grabbing the hem of her jeans and underwear before tugging them down her legs with her shoes.

When Y/n got her bottoms off, she tossed them aside and grabbed Wanda by the waist. She let out a yelp when she felt herself be flipped over onto her stomach as if she was a ragdoll. Y/n then pulled Wanda’s waist up towards her, leaving Wanda face down and ass up before her with a perfect view of her glistening pussy which was all hers for the taking.

Y/n left a quick yet hard slap onto Wanda’s ass, ignoring the yelp of surprise and pain that left Wanda’s mouth as she knelt down and ran her tongue up from Wanda’s clit up to her opening, all the while squeezing both of Wanda’s ass cheeks. 

A loud moan from Wanda ripped through the air before she buried her face into the pillows, biting down while she desperately held onto the headboard from the sudden sensation of having her sensitive center be met with Y/n’s warm and skillful tongue.

Y/n spat down onto Wanda’s opening before leaning forward and sticking her tongue inside, hand going down and pressing against her clit roughly while rubbing very slow circles against it as her tongue penetrated her insides at the fastest speed she could muster.

Wanda’s moans got caught in her throat as she desperately gasped in pleasure, eyes rolling to the back of her head from the conflicting sensations that rushed through her entire body. Every now and again, Y/n would pull her tongue out and run it through Wanda’s folds, lapping up all her excess wetness that slipped past and dripped down.

Before Wanda could fall over the edge, Y/n pulled back and wiped away Wanda’s juices that had gotten all over her face. A long and desperate gasp left Wanda as her body began to twitch. She was almost there, just a little bit more and she would have gotten what she wanted.

Y/n stood up straight and looked down at the twitching Wanda who was burying her face into the pillow in frustration. She then reached underneath Wanda’s core and pressed two fingers against her clit as hard as she could. 

The pressure against her already sensitive nub made Wanda scream, clenching her eyes shut tightly as she felt that final wave crash over her. It was embarrassing to have her cum so hard from just having Y/n hold her fingers against her clit, and it made her even more frustrated from having cum in such an underwhelming way.

Y/n watched as Wanda came undone in front of her, pressing harder whenever Wanda seemed to start to come down from her high to get her going again. Having Wanda desperately cling onto the headboards, knuckles turning white as she whined out in frustration made Y/n’s breathing become heavy.

She let go, but only so she could take her bra off to breathe better. She was in no way done with her yet. Y/n only gave Wanda the luxury of calming down for two seconds before running her fingers up her folds, taking in all the wetness and covering her fingers in them before shoving them into her hole.

Another scream ripped through Wanda’s mouth as her entire body became alight from its sensitivity being turned up to a hundred. Her upper body was being pushed deeper and deeper into the mattress with every thrust of Y/n’s fingers into her pussy, and the stinging pain from being touched right after she came quickly faded away into a pleasure that left Wanda’s mind completely blank.

Y/n clenched her jaw with each moan, curse, and plea Wanda screamed into the air for her, Her eyes stared down at the puckering hole that was slick from Wanda’s wetness that had dripped down to it. She spread her ass cheek with one hand before circling her thumb around the hole, not quite touching it, but getting close enough to cause it to twitch from the proximity.

Wanda’s back arched from the new sensation, feeling that familiar tightening in her core start to rise again. Y/n pressed her thumb fully against Wanda’s asshole, pushing in ever so slightly so the pad would enter just a bit and beginning to pulse her thumb against it while she curled her fingers from within Wanda’s pussy.

And just like that, a long and throat scratching moan left Wanda’s mouth as she felt her walls tighten and clench around Y/n’s fingers. Her hips began stuttering and her legs began shaking, about to fall from how hard the pleasure was crashing against her.

When Y/n pulled her fingers out, Wanda’s legs collapsed, causing her to fully lie down on her stomach as she caught her breath and recovered from her second climax. Y/n raised her hand up to the window to see it glistening from Wanda’s cum in the moonlight. She rubbed her thumb against it to feel its slickness while a sigh left her mouth.

She looked down at Wanda and positioned her body above her. The hand she used to fuck Wanda’s pussy went to her face, pushing her cheeks together and creating an opening for her mouth. She then shoved the two fingers into Wanda’s mouth, causing Wanda to gag and cough from the forcefulness of it.

“Suck.” All the kindness and charm Wanda was used to hearing from Y/n’s voice was completely gone, and that one word was spoken as if Y/n was speaking to a machine. 

Even then, it only made another gush of wetness to flow through Wanda’s core, and she gladly obeyed and began sucking herself clean off of Y/n’s fingers, taking in her taste and moaning when Y/n pushed her fingers deeper into her mouth. As she was doing this, Y/n was unbuttoning her pants and pulling out her strap with one hand.

She ran her hand up Wanda’s center, making the woman shiver as the heel of her palm grazed against her swollen clit. Y/n used the wetness that she had collected to lube up the dildo by taking it in her hand and slowly jerking it up and down. 

Y/n took her fingers out of Wanda’s mouth before leaning back. Her hand grabbed Wanda’s ass and squeezed it, caressing the soft skin with her thumb as she admired the view beneath her.

“Hands and knees, come on.” Y/n said, giving Wanda’s ass a light slap of encouragement. Instead of questioning her, Wanda simply pushed herself up and propped herself up on her hands and knees.

Y/n lifted one leg up and grabbed her cock in one hand while the other held onto Wanda’s waist to keep her still. She slapped the tip of her strap against Wanda’s entrance before slowly pushing it in until her pussy swallowed her cock’s entire length.

Wanda gasped out as she felt herself be filled to the brim. She’s only had two orgasms so far, and they were the strongest and most tiring orgasms she’s ever had, yet she found her body already ready for more.

She pushed herself back against Y/n and Y/n’s hands went to spread Wanda’s ass cheeks apart so she could get a better view of her cock slipping in and out of Wanda’s pulsing and leaking hole. She began with slow-paced, yet rough and powerful thrusts that sent Wanda pushing forward with each time she pushed back inside her. 

Then, Y/n let one hand slowly move from Wanda’s ass up to her spine until she reached the back of her head. When her hair was in between her fingers again, Y/n closed her fists tightly and pulled Wanda’s hair bag as tight as she could, making a loud gasp ring through the air.

She quickened her pace, the wet and messy sound of her cock slapping against Wanda’s pussy filling her ears. Y/n leaned forward, pressing her bare front against Wanda’s back as she reached below her and took one breast in her hand.

Before she could even start fondling it though, Wanda reached down and grabbed her wrist before slowly lifting it up to her neck. Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise for a quick second, but she pushed that down as her fingers wrapped around the girl’s throat.

Wanda’s moans were coming through quickly and cut up as Y/n’s thrusts became more frantic. She pushed up against her cock, wanting to feel it stuff her more than it already was, meeting all of Y/n’s thrusts half way. She could feel her head becoming light, and the only thing Wanda could feel anymore was the unrelenting pleasure coming from the cock pounding into her cunt.

“You…” Y/n started, her voice shaky and a bit breathless as she buried her face into Wanda’s shoulder while continuing to rut against her. 

“You are nothing… Nothing like your brother.” Y/n panted in Wanda’s ears and a sigh left Wanda’s mouth, eyes shutting tightly as her back began to arch and muscles began to tense.

“You…” Y/n repeated, tightening her hold on Wanda’s hair and neck. Wanda bit her lip tightly, trying to suppress the squeal begging to leave her chest as her legs began to shake and tremor once more.

“Are so much more.” Wanda cried out, her vision beginning to blur as she dissolved into complete and utter pleasure.

Strangled noises and whimpers left her mouth as her arms and legs gave out in exhaustion, and Y/n was quick to wrap her arms around her torso and waist to keep her up, continuing to thrust into her to help her ride out her orgasm as she twitched and spasmed against her.

“Thank you, goodnight.” Pietro mumbled to the Uber driver, giving him a wave before shutting the door and walking up the steps of his childhood home.

It took him a moment to stick the key into the hole and unlock it, only for him to realize that the door was already unlocked. He furrowed his eyebrows and checked the time on his watch. It was past midnight, why was it unlocked?

When he walked in, the sound of dishes being moved around in the kitchen reached his ears, only furthering his confusion.

“Wanda?” He asked, hand going to the light switch and flicking it on, lighting up the living room and reaching the kitchen. The sound of someone letting out a yelp caused Pietro to jump and shout in surprise. His hands flew to grip his chest and he stepped back, eyes wide and staring at the stranger standing in his kitchen with a bowl of cereal in their hands.

“Oh my god, you scared me.” The woman said as she let out a breath of relief. Pietro furrowed his eyebrows and stared at the woman incredulously.

Her hair was messy, her lips were swollen, and she was wearing nothing but a hoodie that was too big on her, and based on the fact that it had his old track team’s logo on it, he was certain it was his.

“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my house?” Well, his parents’ house, but it wasn’t time for semantics.

“Wait… You don’t remember me?” The woman asked in amusement, stepping forward into the light as a smirk appeared on her lips.

“Am I supposed to?” Pietro asked while shaking his head, a second away from taking his phone out of his pocket and calling the cops.

“It’s me. Y/n L/n, from high school.” She said slowly, lifting the spoon up to her mouth and eating some of the cereal while keeping her eyes completely trained on the man standing across her.

“Y/n…” Pietro said to himself, trying to figure out why the name was familiar to him. His eyebrows raised and he looked at Y/n in surprise, leaning back as if he didn’t believe it.

“Y/n.” He said in a tone of disbelief once he was certain, and the smirk on Y/n’s face widened as she shook her head.

“Yeah, we spent a lot of time together with your friends in the halls.” Y/n said, then a chuckle left her lips. “Well, you guys were in the halls. I was stuffed in a locker.” She added and Pietro looked down at the comment in shame.

“What are you doing in my house?” He asked to change the subject. Pietro was already planning on apologizing to her at the reunion anyway, he could save it until then. Right now, he needed answers.

“What am I doing in your house?” Y/n repeated, turning around and placing the bowl on the counter before leaning back against it, hands on the counter as she stared Pietro down with a stony glare.

“I just got done fucking your twin sister.” She said with a tilt of her head.

Pietro paused. For a moment, his brain didn’t quite process what she had just said. It was just such an absurd thing to say, so there was no way it could be true. 

“What?” Pietro said with a laugh, unconvinced that Y/n was telling the truth. She was fucking with him. She had to be. But the smirk that was now on Pietro’s face made his heart fill with dread.

“I split your sister in half until she was screaming my name on your childhood bed.” Y/n said more surely, her smirk widening when she saw Pietro’s face fall.

“It is so good to see you.” Y/n said, smiling down to herself as she turned and grabbed her cereal again.

“You know, I never knew you had a twin. When I ran into her though, she did kind of look like you.” Y/n said casually as she continued to eat her cereal.

“But I didn't get a chance to see her face much since I was too busy ramming into her from behind to look at her.” She said with a shrug, looking back up to Pietro who stood there, stunned into utter silence as the mental image filled his head, causing his face to scrunch up in disgust.

“She’s very vocal. Which is weird because she’s such a shy girl. Maybe that’s why she made me choke her. Probably not used to being so loud like that.” Y/n said, then a moan left her mouth, hand going up to cover her mouth as she stared down at the bowl.

“Honey nut cheerios are so good.” She said with a laugh, nodding at Pietro who stared at her, unsure if this entire conversation was actually happening right now.

“You… You—” Pietro said with a shaky voice, hand going up and clenching into a fist which he bit down on.

“Fucked your sister? Yes, I said that already. Keep up, Maximoff.” Y/n said while snapping her fingers impatiently. 

“You’re fucking insane.” Pietro spat out and Y/n hummed boredly in response, butting the bow down once she was finished with her cereal.

“See, I’m used to hearing you calling me a whole bunch of other things, but insane’s a new one.  At least you haven’t lost your touch.” Y/n said as she grabbed the bottom hem of the hoodie she was wearing before pulling it off of her.

Pietro’s eyes widened when Y/n started walking up to her. He stammered, not knowing what to say until Y/n shoved his hoodie into his hands, making him stumble back a bit from the force. Y/n started walking once more, but she stopped when she was right next to Pietro.

“You know, I was really looking forward to meeting your wife. It’s a shame she isn’t here.” Y/n said as she lifted her eyes and met Pietro’s eyes, a devious smile appearing on her face as a dangerous glint shined through her eyes.

“Who knows what would have happened if I ran into her instead of your sister?” Pietro’s jaw clenched tightly and he was about to turn to Y/n and punch her in the face when Y/n pushed him away from her.

He stumbled backwards, almost falling to the ground if he hadn’t caught the side table to steady himself. He watched Y/n confidently saunter over to the door, a sway in her hips and her chin raised up. When she opened the door, she turned back to Pietro and smirked, raising her hand and waving with her fingers.

Pietro glared at her with a burning hatred in his eyes, and Y/n had to stop herself from laughing. She shut the door and made her way back down to her car, relishing in the sound of heavy footsteps rushing up the stairs from within the house.

“Wanda!” She heard Pietro scream from inside just as she entered her car.

Y/n pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened her notes up, going to the latest note and scrolling all the way down, to add the name “Wanda Maximoff”, erasing the one above it, before adding a strikethrough to it.

Above Wanda’s name was an entire list of the names of women with very familiar last names to Y/n.

Pepper Stark

Laura Barton

Gamora Quill

Peggy Rogers

Jane Odinson

Christine Strange

Sylvie Laufeyson

Wanda Maximoff

Y/n shut her phone off and tossed it to the passenger seat, starting her car and driving away to the sound of the Maximoff twins shouting at each other from inside their house.

Being an adult usually had only two meanings: Not having the time or not having money. And both could happen simultaneously.

Yet, with the mass resignation of the Bishop Security Company after the owner's exposure of felony evasion, you and your co-workers and closest friends, Maria Hill and Steve Rogers, decided that the insurance money would be a good opportunity to have decent summer vacation for once in your life.

Convincing your wife would be the tricky part.

"Absolutely not." Wanda spoke with an indignant expression as soon as you finished counting. "We need to save money, Y/N. You still haven't received any feedback on the resumes you sent out, and we're not going to waste our savings because Rogers wants to have beers on the beach." Wanda declared seriously, but at that moment, the twins were coming down the stairs, and Tommy let out an excited exclamation.

"Are we going to the beach?" 

"No, Tommy-"

But if there was one thing Wanda had a problem doing, it was saying no to her boys' puppy dog eyes - and coupled with your kisses - she rolled her eyes and eventually agreed.

So, you left New York in a pickup truck with your family headed for the seashore.

"Who took care of the lodging?" Wanda asked from the passenger seat - she looked, in your humble opinion, stunning in her sunglasses. 

You turned down the radio a little to answer her.

"Steve. He said something about an old friend who had a boat and a beach house." You answer and Wanda hums in agreement, half distracted with her cell phone. You look through the rearview mirror at the twins, also focused on electronic devices, and sigh. "You know, it would be nice if we tried to disconnect a little from the Internet this holiday, don't you guys think?"

No one even hears your question, and you roll your eyes before turning the radio back up.

You stayed on the road for almost three hours because of the traffic, but everyone was very pleased when the sea became visible. The joy lasted only for the next 20 minutes.

"Are you sure we are at the right address?" Wanda asked with a grimace as soon as you parked the car in front of an old gate, a considerable amount of moss covering the bricks, and grass growing everywhere.

You were equally confused, and got out of the car with some hesitation, looking around. It was a somewhat isolated area from the rest of the houses, but the yard led to the beach. From the beam of the gate you could see that there was also a swimming pool.

Taking your cell phone, you dialed Steve's number while your family waited in the car - Wanda leaned into the back seat to calm the twins who were already starting to get restless.

"Rogers, I think we missed the entrance or something. Are you here yet?"

"No, I'm about ten minutes away. Send me your location and I'll pick you up."

But apparently, you were in the right place. And when Steve Rogers parked his car next to yours, you were just as annoyed as Wanda.

"You said you were going to take care of the lodging!" You accused the blond who held up his hands in surrender. 

"Hey, I said I knew the owner, that's different!" He defended himself. "Sam said the place is nice, you haven't even been in and you're already making judgments." He argues. "And stop yelling at me in front of my fiancé, it's bad luck." He whispered the last part, taking advantage of Bucky getting out of the car, and you rolled your eyes impatiently.

The place was not nice. It was a surprise that it was actually standing. 

You only didn't choke Steve because Maria arrived on a motorcycle with her girlfriend and she looked like she was going to do it first.

"Rogers, I promised her an incredible weekend and you put us in this hole!" Maria grunts between teeth as the three of you are supposedly checking out the kitchen, your families waiting for you in the living room.

"Look, the value was really good! I had no idea the place was in this condition." Steve defends himself. "Sam told me it was his family's house, and that they haven't been here in a few years..."

"More like a few centuries." You retort rubbing your forehead. You can hear Wanda's voice asking the kids not to touch anything, acknowledging that pitch of anger, and you can already imagine the lecture. And honestly, she's right.

"I'll call Sam." Steve says, sounding like he's more about running away from the discussion than solving something.

To add to Wanda's irritation, you had also suggested that she invite Pietro and his family, figuring that your friend would have picked a really nice place. So when the twin arrived with Monica and little Luna, you knew that the thin ice had burst.

Pietro let out a laugh when he saw the state of the room.

"It looks like a hurricane came through in here." He commented dropping one of the suitcases on the floor, his wife holding her daughter as if afraid she would catch some disease from the floor. "Well, I'll take the larger room!"

Pietro's sentence caused a commotion. You shuddered at the look Wanda threw you before she ran to catch up with the boys who went to dispute the room with their uncle, and you sat down on the old couch with a grunt, a migraine forming.

"Sam said he'll be here in fifteen minutes." Steve informs you and Maria as he returns to the living room with a cell phone in hand.

Apparently, it was the housekeeper's fault. Sam was a nice guy, and really didn't know that the house wasn't being taken care of properly. It took him almost 30 minutes to arrive however because he brought several pieces of cleaning equipment to help improve the appearance of the house.

"Amazing, guys! I go to the beach with everyone who has nothing to do with the choice of lodging and the rest of you are left in charge of cleaning." Wanda declares to the room and no one has the courage to contradict her.

And so you spend the rest of your afternoon trying to get mold out of the inside of a pool.

"Natasha seems nice." Steve tells Maria a few hours into the cleanup when the three of you are taking old bottles out. 

"She's amazing." Your friend retorts with an excited sigh. "I was a little unsure about this open relationship thing, but we're doing fine."

"Wait, does that mean you two can sleep with other people?" Steve asks surprised, and Maria giggles, shaking her shoulders as the three of you make your way back inside, at least three rooms with plenty of cleaning to be done yet.

"If we are in agreement, yes." Answers the brunette. 

"Damn I could never do that." Steve comments and you hum in response.

"Just the thought of Wanda sleeping with someone else makes my skin itch." 

"I didn't know you were the jealous type, Y/N." Maria comments and you give a short laugh, your hands busy moving the pillows to dust them off.

"Have you seen my wife, Hill? No, wait, don't look at her like that." You joke making all three of you laugh. "I'm not really, just truly monogamous. Believe me, Wanda is jealous of this relationship."

Steve laughed in agreement. "Oh, I recall that. Before you joined the company, Maria, Y/N trained a new girl, I think her name was Carol or something. Wanda looked ready to rip someone's head off every time her name was mentioned."

"I thought it was cute." 

"It was scary." Steve contradicts making you laugh. 

You get back to cleaning the house between conversations about work and side scares, and as the place gets cleaner, the anger about the inconveniences eventually takes a back seat.

Wanda and the others don't return until late afternoon, the kids running in dirty with sand and making a huge mess in the shower.

You are testing the waters calmly, but realize that a day at the beach with the twins seems to have relaxed Wanda a bit. You try to improve things a bit by promptly offering to take care of the twins, cleaning up all the mess and making sure they were in their pajamas and ready for dinner without delay.

Wanda smiled at you in thanks before heading to the kitchen and that made you sigh with relief.

"She's mad." Tommy warns you as you dry his hair and you look at your son with a grimace.

"Are you sure?"

"She smashed the volleyball." It is Billy who answers, and you sigh with slight panic.

"Boys do you have any suggestions?" You ask them, going to dry the other's hair. 

"A new house." Tommy mutters taking an elbow from his brother.

"Foot massage, mommy. And you could buy some chocolates too." Billy suggests and you smile at them.

"You two are the best." You say kissing the head of each before letting them run into the kitchen.

—------—------

Everyone was tired from the trip and the beach, so plans for the barbecue and pool would be left for the next few days. The children were put in one room, and you, Wanda and Maria and Natasha in the other, while Steve and Bucky took the couches. The hammocks for Pietro and Monica.

"Did you girls get to know each other well?" Maria asked when the four of you were in the room. You were sitting cross-legged on the bed, waiting for Wanda to finish drying her hair and get into bed, while Natasha was grabbing bath items to use after Maria who had just left the shower.

Wanda and Nat exchanged gentle smiles. "Yes, Natalia is a sweetheart." Your wife commented, causing Maria to smile. "She mentioned that you guys almost went to St.Petersburg, but ended up choosing the beach. I imagine the regret must be bitter." Wanda joked, and although Maria and Nat laughed, you knew it was a warning that she hadn't forgiven you yet.

"I don't know, Wanda, trading thick coats for the chance to see this goddess in a bikini seems like a good game." Natasha flirts with her girlfriend, stealing a kiss on the way to the bathroom, and as soon as the door closes, Maria grunts with excitement, ignoring the giggles from you and Wanda.

"God, that woman is going to kill me." Hill said. 

"Doesn't it make you want to keep her all to yourself?" You tease just to torment her, and Maria chuckles, raising her middle finger at you. Wanda watches the scene with confusion.

"What do you mean?" She asks, and Maria quickly tries to explain about them being in an open relationship. "Wow, that's... modern."

You give a short laugh, which Maria follows. "Come on Maximoff, you can say you think it's a crazy idea. Steve does."

But Wanda shrugs her shoulders, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "No, I think it's nice. If it works for you, and it's something you like, then I really don't see why it would be a problem. In fact, it sounds interesting, I imagine you guys must never get bored."

Maria laughs, commenting that boredom has never been a problem, but you frown in hesitation. 

"In fact, girls, I think Nat forgot her soap and I would never want her to have her bath marred by that little triviality..." Maria says a moment later, ignoring the rolling of your eyes to run to the bathroom and you turn your attention back to your wife lying on the bed beside you.

"Hey, pretty girl, since when do you think an open relationship is cool?" You ask, moving to the edge of the bed without delay, your hands finding Wanda's feet to place them in your lap. She gives a confused giggle.

"What, I'm not allowed to?" She retorts half sarcastically, the irritation over the events from earlier still fresh in her mind. 

You sigh. "You can think whatever you want, Wanda. I was just surprised. And that talk about being bored..." Your voice grew a little unsure, causing Wanda to frown in curiosity. "It wasn't about us was it?"

Wanda giggled incredulously. "By God, honey."

"What? It's an honest doubt." You defend yourself with flushed cheeks, and Wanda bites back a smile. She would like to be irritated with you for more than a few hours, but you make the job so difficult.

"Baby, we have sex almost every day."

"Yeah, but you could be getting tired..." You mutter upset, your fingers massaging Wanda's feet and she grunts softly.

"I promise I'm not." 

"So you wouldn't want to open our marriage?" 

"Babe, don't make me kick your pretty face." Wanda warns causing you to chuckle. She closes her eyes to enjoy the massage better and you smile affectionately as you watch the soft sighs that leave her lips in appreciation of the touch.

You lick your lips a minute later, stopping your movements to lean down and kiss her thighs, making Wanda open her eyes.

"What are you doing?" She asks almost tense, her gaze going to the closed door. You only press a hand to her stomach to get her to lie back down, and the other pulls the comforter over you.

"Making sure there's no boredom." You retort, fingers climbing up into her nightgown as your mouth kisses the inside of her thigh and up, making Wanda shudder softly.

"Baby, the girls could be back any moment..." She reminds you with the last remaining bit of sanity, but you only laugh softly against her skin.

"Adrenaline makes everything better, don't you think?" It is your last comment, and Wanda will not argue any further.

–//–

The second day is infinitely better than the first. Apparently, one orgasm is enough for Wanda to forgive you for a bad weekend, and when you join everyone on the beach, it's really fun.

The only inconvenience is Pietro mistaking sunscreen for suntan lotion and turning all the kids into shrimp, which stresses the mothers out to a considerable degree.

You end up going back early because of this, and you offer to go to the pharmacy to get some ointment for them, being joined by Natasha in the car as the woman also wanted to buy some items. 

You chat a bit on the way, she has a sarcastic humor but is pleasant company. She also flirts a lot with the natural way in which compliments escape her, and the interaction leaves you feeling a bit awkward. 

The problem is that for your wife, you arriving with easy smiles and a flushed face with a beautiful woman like Natasha is not exactly the best thing in the world. So her passive hostility from before returns and you have no idea why.

You focus on soothing the burns of the three naughty children on the couch for the moment though.

Wanda, on the other hand, is quite interested in finding out why you arrived laughing with Natasha, and once the redhead joins Steve and Bucky in preparing the barbecue, the shorter one is trying to sound as casual as possible.

"[...] your wife is really very nice, that's all." Natasha assures amiably, her hands busy grabbing a cold beer. "I told her about not knowing New York very well, and she told me that with the company's trainee program she ended up getting to know the city like the back of her hand and that if I were in Queens sometime, we could schedule a coffee. She is very helpful."

Wanda forces a smile. "Yes, very helpful. Lovely." She commented, the sarcasm being missed by Nat, who wasted no time in continuing the conversation.

You didn't understand any of the murderous looks you received from Wanda every time she took a sip of beer while talking to Nat, but honestly, you were afraid to ask.

The barbecue gets livelier as Pietro gets the radio and speakers working, and you proudly fill the pool that you have successfully cleaned.

While the kids are playing in the water, you approach Wanda from behind, hands on her waist, but when you go to kiss her, she turns her face away and you end up just brushing up against her cheek.

She takes a long swig of beer, prologuing the lack of explanation and causing you to raise an eyebrow. 

"What's wrong?" You ask in a whisper, holding her by the waist while the others are busy dancing and talking.

"Nothing." She retorts between teeth, returning the bottle to the counter in front of her, leaning her ass against you. 

"Wanda." You insist, appreciating the warmth, but worried about the way she is acting.

Your wife just turns her face to you, an innocent expression that doesn't match the way her eyes are shining. "It's nothing, honey, I just heard about you being the best tour guide in New York."

You frown in confusion. "What...?"

But Wanda slips your hands away as she spins her body around, hands finding the collar of your shirt. "So helpful with other people's girlfriends."

You sigh as you understand. "Wanda, I was just trying to be nice..." You try, but she leans her face against yours, brushing your lips together and making you lose your line of reasoning. Wanda kisses you softly and suddenly bites your mouth just on the limit so as not to hurt, the gentle pain being a clear reminder of her annoyance, and you grunt softly as she pulls away. " No need to be mean."

She gives a naughty little laugh, licking her lips and attracting the immediate attention of your eyes. 

But your interaction is interrupted when Steve announces that the couple he befriended on the beach earlier was at the gate. Tony Stark, his wife Pepper, and their daughter Morgan had brought more food and drinks for the barbecue, and you whispered that you were going to be as friendly as ever just to tempt her.

The barbecue continues throughout the day. Everyone gets to know each other, and around three, you decide that you would also like to join the pool, and having gotten busy you were not yet in your swimsuit.

You went inside to change and found the bathroom empty. Since everyone was outside and you were only going to put your top on, you didn't lock the door. As soon as you took off your shirt, someone came in. 

Nat closed the door and turned around, surprised to find you without clothes.

"Oh, sorry, my bad." She apologized without any shame, just regret that she had intruded. The problem is that when she went to open the door, the old doorknob made a noise and fell to the floor. "That's not good."

You put on your T-shirt in record time, moving to the door as well.

"Shit." You grumbled, trying to push the door open but to no avail. You immeasurably started to knock, but the loud sound muffled it. "No, no, no."

Natasha gave a confused giggle at your reaction. "Look, that sucks, but I promise I'm not the worst company to be locked up with." She jokes, a little unsure, after all, she was the girlfriend of one of your close friends and just wanted to make a good impression.

You gesture to her quickly. "Oh, no, it's not you. I just need to get out of this bathroom before my wife dreams that I ended up in a small space with a beautiful woman."

"Well, thank you." She retorts and you grunt in embarrassment, but Nat seems to be finding the whole thing amusing. She leans on the wall next to the door, pulling out her cell phone and you sigh impatiently, trying to slam the door again.

Shortly after, you hear footsteps and knock harder.

"Hey, we're stuck!" You warn.

"Mom?" it's Tommy's confused voice, and you sigh in relief.

"Yes, honey, Aunt Nat and I got stuck in the bathroom, try calling Uncle Pietro without alerting anyone and-"

"MAMA! MOMMY GOT STUCK IN THE BATHROOM WITH AUNT NATASHA" Tommy shouts into the hallway with a mischievous laugh, and you feel your body freeze. Even Nat laughs softly at your reaction.

Wanda moves so fast out of her seat that the pillows hit the floor. She reaches the door in a rage and starts knocking hard.

"Y/N? OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!"

You shudder, taking a step away. "Wanda, honey, the lock broke..."

Another loud knock. You heard other footsteps, and the music slowed, so it wasn't hard to deduce that the whole group was in the hallway.

"What happened people?" Pietro asked confused.

"Pietro, Natasha, and I got stuck in here." You replied from the other side and wanted to dig yourself a hole for giggles.

"Everyone out now." Wanda speaking tapped her foot, and you heard footsteps and giggling children, signaling that the children all ran to the pool again. "Y/N, open this door right now!"

You sigh wearily, looking around. Natasha moves as well, grabs a toothbrush, and pats you on the shoulder to make room for her.

"Maybe if we shove this in here..." She comments but is interrupted by a loud exclamation and laughter from the other side.

"SHOVE IT IN? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" Wanda questions explosively, and you grunt softly.

"Look, sestra, from the sounds of it it must be good stuff." Pietro sneers, and you hear a slapping noise and another chuckle. 

Natasha seems to be having a hard time holding back her laughter, offering you a frown by Wanda's reaction, but all you do is sigh and sit down on one of the little stools by the door.

"Wanda, relax, I'm sure it's fine in there." Steve tries to reassure her.

"Yes, I'll go look for a screwdriver." It is Bucky who speaks and you hear his footsteps getting away.

"Of course, it's fine, by the way, it's a great opportunity for a bonding hour." Pietro teases getting another chuckle, but you sink your face into your own hands, grumbling in frustration. "Wow, I think they've even started."

The snickering makes you blush with embarrassment, but soon you jump in fright because Wanda gives another loud knock on the door.

"Y/N, I swear to god if I hear any more strange sounds..." She warns between teeth, and you swallow dryly, not even daring to breathe too loudly. 

Natasha gives up trying to open it with her toothbrush, seeing that it wouldn't work and leans back on the wall.

"I don't know about you, Wanda, but sometimes silence can even be worse." Monica joins in the tormentors, and you hear Pietro laughing as well. "who knows what the mouth is doing other than talking"

"Y/N!” Wanda calls immediately with her voice trembling with rage. “Speak! Now!"

You roll your eyes and Natasha answers for you, "Guys, stay calm, everything is under control in here."

"Yes, Wanda, we're just waiting." You say.

"Yeah, Y/N, keep talking!" Your wife warns.

"What's the use of talking, we don't know where her hands are..." Pietro adds making Monica laugh. You place a hand over your face in disbelief.

Wanda's shaky voice calls out to you again. "What are you doing with your hands? Clap them!"

"My god, that's ridiculous." You mutter.

"Clap.Them." Wanda repeats between teeth, her voice laden with irritation, and you sigh impatiently before obeying. "That's it, keep going. I better know where your hands are!"

"Wanda, I won't be-"

"I swear to god Y/N-" She interrupts you and you don't have to command again before you clap your hands again. "That's it, good. Now speak, or sing."

Fuck this.

Pietro and Monica start laughing, and Natasha also gives up on holding in her giggles. Luckily, Bucky comes back with the screwdriver. 

About ten minutes later, the door opens, and you only have time to stare at Wanda in confusion before the woman leaves in a rage and dragging her feet away.

"If she kills me, I will haunt you both." You warn Pietro and Monica, who just laugh at your distress before you follow the same path as Wanda.

Although it is not really your fault, you feel very bad to find your wife on the verge of tears, with her arms crossed and sitting on the sand, a few meters away from the house.

You sigh softly, making noise with your steps to announce your arrival before sitting down beside her.

"Sorry." You murmur and Wanda shudders, keeping her gaze on the ocean. "I should have, um, locked the door before the doorknob broke."

"I'm not mad." She grumbles. "I know it wasn't your fault."

You look at her with concern. "Then...why are you crying?"

"I don't know." She answers with a soft sniffle, wiping her tears away quickly. "It's stupid."

You sigh, moving one of your fingers to give the strap of her shorts a gentle tug, "Come on, talk to me." You insist sweetly, and Wanda takes a deep breath, her gaze on her own feet.

"I just... it's stupid, but sometimes, I have these thoughts. About you, finding someone cooler or I don't know, hot. Someone who does things more fun than cleaning the carpet or preparing kids' breakfasts. Or I don't know, some of the incredibly interesting people you meet every day who actually go places instead of spending the day writing about it." Wanda blurts out, and you sigh deeply. 

She has never said these insecurities to you. Not since college at least. And because you were so sincerely in love with her, the possibility that Wanda might feel insecure never crossed your mind.

"Hey, come here." You call out to her, bringing your hands to her hips. "Where did that come from?" 

Wanda hides her face in your chest, her cheeks burning. "I don't know, it just did come." She mumbles against your skin. 

Before, when you were younger and more hesitant, you would often reassure her. But after marriage, god, after children, you just assumed Wanda knew she was the love of your life. But she apparently still let her insecurities get the best of her. And it was okay.

"Sometimes I think you'll meet a super literature genius and forget about me." You confess to her as you hold her, and Wanda gives a confused little laugh. 

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm." You mutter. "Remember when you won that writing contest last summer, and that handsome professor came over to ask for your number?"

"And I said I was married?" Wanda asks raising her gaze to you.

"Yep, that's the one." You say. "I was so insecure all night because all my head could think about was you moving on with someone far more intelligent and well resolved."

"That's ridiculous, I love you."

"I know, that's exactly my point." You retort with a chuckle that she accompanies. "Besides, that night you couldn't even wait for us to get out of the car so you obviously were crazy about me-"

Wanda smacks you in the ribs, laughing along with you. "Idiot." She says, sliding her arms around you.

"Sorry for making you clap your hands." She asks then, and you laugh softly. 

"It's okay, baby." You say. "Do you want to go back inside?"

"Can I get a kiss first?" She asks with a pout raising her eyes to you. 

"Hmm, as many as you want." You whisper back, leaning in to meet her mouth and feeling her smile against your lips. Wanda slides her tongue against yours slowly, and you move your hands down to squeeze her ass, pushing her against your hips and getting an affected sigh. "Just for the record, Maximoff. You are the hottest woman in the world." You compliment with your eyes ajar, smiling at the way that although she rolls her eyes, her cheeks turn pink.

–//–

The last day of the weekend had everything to be perfect, so it was the most disastrous of all.

Someone - you prefer not to accuse, although everyone knows who sleeps in the living room takes care of those things - forgot to close the windows, and the early morning rain got half the appliances on the countertop wet and damaged. Pietro was quite grumpy without his coffee.

The children have become even more energetic in the last day, and almost impossible to keep up with. You lost sight of Tommy for the fourth time and were trying to help Billy get his arm out of a jar when you heard the sound of something falling.

The whole house heard it, actually, and in record time, it was the whole group outside, where Tommy had just fallen off an old ladder trying to climb the fence.

"What are these kids taking?"  Steve asks half startled, but you are busy going to check on your son who has apparently twisted his wrist.

"Mommy's hurting." Tommy whimpers as you sigh nervously, grabbing his arm to check.

"It doesn't look broken dear. Come on let's put some ice on it." 

Aside from Tommy's injury, apparently, Wanda couldn't decide whether to stay on good or bad terms with you this weekend. As soon as she finished checking for the tenth time that her son wasn't forcing his injured hand, she sent you one of her angry glances on the way to the bathroom and you sighed in confusion, the sound attracting the attention of Monica, who was preparing lunch next to you.

"Everything okay there, Y/N?" She asked gently, and you forced a smile.

"Yeah, it's nothing." You mumble, but meet Monica's gaze and sigh. "It's just Wanda."

"Are you two going through a crisis?" she teases but you widen your eyes.

"What? Why, did she say something?"

Monica gives a confused giggle, "No, Y/N, I'm just teasing you." She assures you still smiling, and finishes throwing some of the vegetables into the pot. "Is this about the house? Cause it all turned out to be fun."

"God, I have no idea." You gasp softly in frustration. "She keeps having these mood swings, one minute we're in paradise and the next she looks ready to jump at my neck."

"Oh, but that makes sense for someone in her condition." Monica mutters and you frown in confusion. Seeing your face, the other woman hesitates.

"What condition?"

Monica gives a nervous little laugh, shaking her head. "I meant, I imagine she was nervous about the dismissal from the company and-" She starts to reel, but you cut her off:

"Monica, what condition?"

The woman sighs in defeat. "Sorry, Y/N. I didn't know Wanda hadn't told you yet." She says twisting her fingers. "She found out she's pregnant."

You give a short laugh, thinking it's a joke. But Monica's face doesn't have a trace of humor in it. 

"B-but we haven't been trying for months and-" you stammer but shut up when you realize that the possibility is quite possible. Because you had tried, a lot, to increase the family a few months ago with the whole homemade insemination and donation sperm, until the layoffs at Bishop started happening and as the tests kept showing negative, you and Wanda left the idea for later. But, apparently, it had worked. 

"I'll get you some water." Monica says as she sees your pallor, but you turn around, shaking your head.

"No, I'm fine. I need to talk to my wife." That's what you say before you drop the food knife and leave the kitchen.

Wanda is packing the boys' bags in the last room when you run into her. Everything would be fine if she weren't sniffling softly.

You close the door gently, sighing so she won't be startled, and she quickly wipes her face.

"Hey, sweetheart." You greet her by moving closer and sitting down next to her on the bed, knee to knee. "Why are you crying?"

Wanda gives a tearful laugh. "I have no idea." She replies making you smile affectionately, one hand moving to intertwine with hers in her own lap, and Wanda smooths out one of Billy's t-shirts with the other. "I was just packing up the boys' things and it occurred to me how fast they grew up, and before I knew it, I was crying."

You hum in understanding, moving your face to kiss her on the cheek as Wanda closes her eyes for a minute, trying to control her own emotions. "I'm sorry." She murmurs, and you shake your head, playing with your fingers.

"Don't apologize." You whisper back. "I would never be angry with you for that. I would never be mad at you for anything."

She lets out a soft laugh, turning her face to you. "Not even for accidentally recording Bewitched over your The Office?"

"The keyword is accidentally." You retort good-naturedly, making her laugh as well. Wanda leans against you, and you drop her hand to slip an arm around her shoulder, kissing the top of her head. "Baby, is there something you wanted to tell me?"

Your question makes Wanda tense up, but your gentle caresses with your fingers along her arm make her sigh and relax eventually. It takes a few minutes, but she finally says:

"I found out last week." She confesses, and you sigh softly. "Who told you?"

"Monica."

"I'm going to kill her." You laugh, and so does Wanda, pulling away to look at you.  "I'm so sorry-

"Stop apologizing, Wanda." You interrupt her tenderly, rubbing your noses together affectionately for a moment. "We both wanted to and did it together."

"But that was before-"

"I know." You cut in with a soft chuckle, using your other hand to tuck loose strands of Wanda's hair behind her ear, meeting her worried emerald eyes. "We're going to be fine, darling. I know it's a scary time, but we'll manage. We always do."

Wanda sighs, looking at you for a second. "I love you."

She confesses, making you smile affectionately.

"And I love you." You assure, resting your forehead against hers. Wanda breaks the distance to give you a sweet kiss, smiling against your lips. When she pulls away, you exchange passionate glances. "How many weeks?"

Wanda gives a short laugh. "Almost four months, darling."

You gasp in surprise, pulling back. "No way!" You comment, moving your hands to her blouse, and lifting it up making Wanda laugh at your enthusiasm. You place your hands on her belly. "She's been hiding..."

"She?"

"Oh, yes, definitely a girl. I can feel it." You murmur, moving your hands to Wanda's hips, who raises an eyebrow at the sight of you adjusting to lay her down on the bed and be on top. "I wonder when we made her..."

Wanda bit back a chuckle, feeling you fit a leg between hers. "Well, four months ago, I was working from home every day."

"Hmm, so I guess it was right on your desk, sweetheart." You retort to her as you lower your lips to her neck, and Wanda gives a soft little laugh, remembering all too well how many times you almost broke her office desk. Your hands are coming down dangerously, but the sound of the children outside makes you sigh in frustration against her neck. Wanda feels hot and shares your dissatisfaction at having to stop. "We need a vacation for just the two of us, Wanda."

"I agree." She comments with a smile, kissing you more tenderly.

She rolled her eyes playfully and stepped closer to you and you took a small step back on reflex - it was unintentional, but it looked more as if you just shifted your weight.

Oh, don't think she didn't know.

Her hands crossed one before the other as they went down to take the hem of her top. She looked at you and you locked eyes before she lifted it up, your gaze dropping down and your mouth falling open.

Beautiful, round, soft, milky breasts with pink, hardened nipples and tiny moles scattered around her gorgeous skin, which was so light you could see the soft blue hues of her veins here and there.

But her skin looked so smooth you were sure you'd combust if you touched it.

Her ribs moved under her skin. Her muscles flexed as she pulled the top over her head.

Her curves... those svelte shoulders, prominent collarbones, gorgeous breasts, flat stomach, small waist, portruding hipbones that just begged for you to grip them...

She was carved by gods.

She giggled when she got to see you again as she threw the piece of clothing somewhere on the floor without looking at it.

Her eyes were the most beautiful and mesmerizing shade of green you have ever seen in your entire life. It felt like you were in a luxurious gallery where only special VIP guests were secretly invited to enjoy the views.

And in front of you was the most stunning sculpture that has ever existed.

Alive and breathing, interested in you.

Wanting you.

Beckoning you.

Calling you.

Needing you.

She was perfection in human form.

But how could she ever want you? She was out of everyone's league. There's not a single person on this earth that deserves her. Maybe she was her own separate league. Just one person. Her.

Her breasts became even rounder when her hands relaxed down.

"You can touch... however you want..." she spoke sensually, her breath slow, eyes half-lidded.

Oh, just the image of touching her...

You quite literally felt a stabby hot feeling between your legs, then heavy dripping moving your lips apart and sinking in your panties. If you were breathing any more heavily you'd be vocal. You wish the movement down there were her fingers. Or her tongue. Anything, just her.

She raised her hands up again, cupping her breasts, careful of her nipples to stay between her fingers. She lifted them up and squeezed, then unsqueezed and slowly let them back down, without letting go.

You short-circuited.

"Yyy/nnnn..." she moaned quietly.

You made a needy sound at the same time as her. Your face contorted in pleasure, eyebrows furrowed and mouth making a small "o".

Why were you not doing anything?! She was right in front of you! Real, craving your touch.

God, she was too perfect.

She bit her reddened lower lip.

"Touch me, baby..." she pleaded.

You wanted to pounce on her, tackle her on the ground, you wanted to ravish her, make her gasp, moan so loud it echoes, you wanted to be the reason her feet shake when she screams as she's cumming around your fingers or tongue or both.

You felt something soft. Your hands... she guided them up between the two of you.

Did you black out for a second?!

The redhead stepped even closer and pushed her chest against you, and your hands instinctively opened and grabbed the beautiful curves of skin.

Holy. Shit.

Her nipples rubbed against your palms and her breath hitched - the sound so beautiful it made your own breath hitch as you slowly fell in tune with her.

Things were clicking into place, the puzzle was solving itself, two colors harmonizing into a gradient of love and desire.

Her pleasure was yours.

Her palms found a place on the outside of your forearms, softly trapping you, reserving you for herself.

Not that you would go to anyone else anymore.

Just her presence alone ruined you for everyone else.

It was her or death.

You were hers the moment you two met for the first time.

And you'll be hers until the end of time.

You swore your soul would always search for hers when you die - something so beyond humanity it felt sacred.

You leaned forward and connected your wide-open mouth to the inner side of her shoulder, closer to her neck.

She hummed in pleasure and tilted her head back, her hair raining behind her.

You felt like your tongue was licking the softest surface, your teeth grazing something they could never bite... your lungs filled with her faint signature scent and your legs felt weak.

Her right hand slid up to your shoulder, travelled past your neck and buried in your hair, pulling you closer.

She stepped closer, pushing you backwards, and you let her guide you. Your back softly hit the wall.

You were never a top or a dom.

You were the bottomest of bottoms.

You never had the desire to ruin someone, but she was different. She was a once in a lifetime exception. You wanted to give her so much and yet you couldn't help being under her control, because, god, how could you ever deny her the power that's rightfully hers? How could you ever deny a goddess her divinity?

It just felt natural, being like this around her.

Pliant.

Small.

Serving.

Somehow everything else stopped existing.

It was just her.

Her, her, her.

The moan that rolled out of her throat and graced your ears made you bring your knees closer together.

Your vagina pulsed so hard.

She gently guided your head down and you kissed her collarbone.

Her cleavage.

"Yees..."

The top of her right breast.

"Mmmmmh..."

Her nipple.

"Ha-ah~"

Oh, that beautiful little nub...

You swirled your tongue around it and felt her torso softly jolt as she fought with gravity to keep herself upright.

You tickled it with her tongue and she moaned louder. Proper.

You needed more.

Your hands tightened their hold of her breasts and she arched her back.

"Oh, Y/n..."

It made you break for a second.

Your mouth started moving again.

You made a thin wet line towards her other nipple and she gasped again. You didn't lick much of it, just flicked the side.

Her hand, the one in your hair you forgot about, suddenly gripped tightly, the sensation of your scalp like an exploding power plant, electricity spreading towards the rest of your body and bouncing in your core.

You enclosed the sensitive nub in your wide-open mouth, encasing it in warmth. Your tongue started tickling it and she mewled.

"Fuck~" She whined, high-pitched and breathy. Almost sobbed even.

She groaned when you pulled away and removed your mouth from her breast, the air feeling so cold against the wetness.

Your dominant hand let her breast go and with the backside of the middle of your index finger you gently traced her skin down, following the curves of her slender body. You felt her stomach convulse, but you kept going lower, lower, lower... boldly sliding seamlessly under her panties without any resistance, and over her smooth and hairless privates. Her breath fastened and you turned your hand to cup her core.

The softest skin you've ever touched - her lips - flappy, wet, contracting. You couldn't help but fiddle with them, making her squirm. You traced the skin of her entrance with your middle finger, the edge a bit more firm and defined.

Your eyes closed as your brain turned into mush.

She sighed, content and needy.

"You are so fucking beautiful..." you whispered.

"Y/nnnnn..." she moaned your name again.

You would die for her and her sounds.

She tilted her pelvis away and back, rubbing against your hand.

Your eyes fluttered open.

She was chasing friction.

You pressed all of your fingers together and began moving them in sync.

She felt weak.

You rubbed her forwards and backwards, then settled your palm over her pubic bone and used your middle and index fingers to rub circles over her clit.

"Oh, fuck~"

"Hmmm?"

"Oooooh, yeah~"

You bit your lower lip, resting your forehead on her shoulder. The view was gorgeous.

"Yeaah~ Yeah-hah! Mmmmmh..."

Your other hand squeezed her breast again. You moved your thumb over her nipple and she tightened her grips on you.

"Oh, Wanda..."

"You are so perfect for me..." She exhaled between pants.

You let out a strained noise at that and she grinned for a second, before taking a sharp inhale.

"Keep going, pretty girl..." Your breath hitched, but you felt a rush of energy at the praise. "Oh, keep going... Yes, yes, yes..."

You leaned down and licked her free nipple, eliciting another keen.

"Oooooh, this feels so gooood~" she whined, the hair on your forearm coming to brush your hair away from your face. "You... you feel so good... Mmmmm, Y/nnnnn..."

"You wanna cum for me?"

You also wanted to call her something, but you didn't even know what, she was simply divine.

Wanda opened her mouth to speak, but...

You inserted a finger past her entrance and she immediately clenched around you, but that didn't stop it from going in and out so, so easy.

You added another and the neediness in her sounds amplified.

You rubbed her warm vagina, in and out, exploring all the softness, bumps and ridges. Her walls were contracting around your fingers.

You started searching for something... upon finding it you fastened your pumping.

Wanda was hyperventilating. Entirely at your mercy now.

You scratched the spongey area and used your palm to rub her clit, the combo triggering a throaty moan out of her - one that would be forever branded in your subconscious, and one that burned straight into the depths of your abdomen.

"I'm close..." she whispered, but you didn't really need the confirmation.

You wondered how long she waited for you to enter the room.

What did she imagine when she chose that tight top, knowing what it'd do to you?

How long did the anticipation leak onto her underwear?

Did she wet herself even more when she saw you starstruck?

Did she feel it slowly gush out of her as you kept faltering and hesitating?

Did she almost hear your dirty thoughts and see the filthy images of your imagination?

Your hand was thoroughly lathered in her essence.

You knew the answer.

You slid your hand from her breast and caressed her skin down to the back of her waist. Guiding her you switched places, but it seemed like she didn't even notice, too lost in the moment. You gently pushed her to lean on the wall that you warmed up. She got comfortable again, relaxing a bit as she caught her breath.

You kissed her neck again and made your way down to her breasts.

Naturally both of you crouched slightly - her body reacting to you and instinctively giving you more space, while you chased the need to latch onto her nipples again - it was comforting, it was soft, it made her make extra sounds, and it was so addicting.

You licked one of them and she writhed against you. Her back arched, her sounds telling you that you are doing so good.

Her breathing became frantic and you ramped up your pace, the increase of volume in her voice telling you you're doing it exactly how you're supposed to.

Exactly how she imagined.

Exactly how she wanted you to ruin her all along.

You moved one of your knees between her legs, just preparing for her to go limp any moment now.

Your other hand went back to her neglected breast and your thumb brushed over her sensitive nipple. You recognized the spiking pleasure in her vocals. You tickled it and the dual stimulation made her torso jolt before she arched her back again. Her pelvis trembled against your dominant hand. You used your index to help your thumb roll the little nub and she inhaled loudly.

She came.

The neediest cry that almost made you join her right then and there.

Her legs shook and you felt a little spray of hot liquid, and you kissed the wet nipple before parting from it and looking down. The skin above your palm had a few droplets.

She squirted on you.

The revelation made you groan and bury your head in her neck.

Gradually you slowed your movements, the volume of her moans syncing with them.

Your non-dominant hand found place at her nape and coaxed her to relax against you and you embraced her properly.

Slowly pulling your fingers out of her, you couldn't resist massaging her flappy lips a few more times before cupping her whole vulva in affection.

She hugged you.

You planted a small kiss on the side of her neck and deeply inhaled her scent, and she hummed in acknowledgment. Not just of the kiss, of everything.

"That was my favorite thing."

"What was?" She slurred. Her hazy mind had an idea of what you were talking about, but all word meanings felt so far away she couldn't assimilate what you were saying.

"You."

"Oooh-" she cooed, but you cut her off.

"I-... love you."

She pulled away to meet your eyes.

In this moment you were so sure that waking up every morning without seeing your favorite shade of green would make your life dull, no matter how content you are with everything you've accomplished and have and think and do...

The two of you didn't have a normal friendship - dancing around obvious feelings for so long, knowing and purposefully not admitting, turning it into a complicated game of emotions and tease, but she was the one who made the boldest move out of the two. Now you knew for sure that she'd make your life so much more wild and interesting.

It was scary, this admission, but it felt right.

She felt right.

And you knew that sometimes the scariest things are the right ones.

She scared you in an impossible way.

She cupped your cheek and kissed you, you returned immediately.

Her lips were so soft, you wanted a kiss from her to be the last thing you get to do before you die.

The first thing you touch every morning and evening.

The only smile you'd search for when you need comfort or love, hope or are simply bored.

The only smile you'd look for when you do something funny.

The only lips that would heal and ruin you from now on.

Her hand scratched your scalp and you smiled into the kiss. She broke it to look at you.

"Mine?" She smiled.

"Yours." Both of you grinned and then giggled at the whole situation, feeling such relief, as if you passed something so huge and now it was kinda funny how much you were stressing.

Her hands moved out of your hair and hung around your neck in a loose, intimate hug.

gif credit to creator.

“I’m leaving!” Thérèse had called back to you as you rummaged through the shelfs, dividing nylon thread from polyester ones and storing them separately. Within the last fortnight, she was away from the shop more often than not. “I’ll be back late tonight with the ribbon we need,” she said.

Thérèse returned later that evening, as she promised. 

But you had tired of seeing her by then, even when she peppered your cheeks with kisses and brought back with her four handfuls of the spools of the required ribbon.

You were not able to see her undressing at the end of the night in your shared bedroom, stepping out of her crinoline and unlacing her corset, without envisioning the handsome dark-haired Laurent and his wandering hands nor the intimate sights he might have seen of your maiden. 

It was not the idea that someone else had shared in the experience of bestowing their eyes onto Thérèse’s fair skin and bare body that ate at you, but instead that partnership was meant to mean exclusivity. At least, that was what Thérèse had always preached into your ear and in the tight embrace of her arms.

Hours ago, you had followed her discreetly to the Seine and saw her sprawled out by the riverbank, tranquil and happy as she laid in the cool shadow of a great oak tree. A man was perched on his elbow laying beside her, his fingers running down the side of her face delicately, then to her chin where his thumb brushed across her bottom lip.

You did know of Laurent; the childhood friend of Thérèse’s cousin Camille, who you had not seen since he and his mother moved away once you and Thérèse started overseeing the haberdashery together. 

Laurent was a dashing man, or so you assumed from the meaningful stares he would exchange with any woman he came within fifteen feet of. 

Before you left your previous occupation to work with Thérèse at the haberdashery, you’d worked with Laurent. You would have never considered him to be anything more than an acquaintance, for the truth was that he irritated you, and sometimes you despised him. He was an arrogant lazy oaf, and should he ever come into any deal of money, no matter how small, you knew he would have never come into work. 

He lazed around and did just enough to impress the superiors, getting around by flashing a few smiles and discussing his creative history with beautiful naked models for his beautifully understated pieces of art. You could not remember what kind of artist he was, if one could ever stomach calling him such, but it was not significant to you as you continued to watch him interact with Thérèse.

In an instinctual jerk of your body as if reacting to a sudden noise, you turned your head when the man lowered his face to hers. Their lips met tenderly. Despite yourself, you peeked over, beyond the grand oak tree, to find Laurent looking deeply into your maiden’s eyes. He lifted himself up so their lips could part and he could look down at her while Thérèse grinned, her chest fluttering with her soft giggles.

Dozens of hushed secrets were exchanged within that silent stare and you abhorred yourself for wanting to know them. 

Presently, Thérèse embraces you from behind, unbuttoning the collar of your dress. She hushes you when your shoulders tense, uttering a quiet, “Shh-shh-shh.” 

You look ahead at the wardrobe you’re facing, your body stiff as Thérèse’s hands work nimbly at undressing you.

A dim candle flickers on top of a table in the corner of the bedroom, enveloping the entire room in a warm shade of orange. From the nightstand beside the bed at the other side of the bedroom, an off-white light gleams and casts Thérèse’s shadow against your back and the top of her head over your shoulder and against the wardrobe.

When your corset is undone and is placed atop of your skirts on the floor, Thérèse pushes your crinoline down your legs and you step out of it, moving to the side and finally slipping out of her arms. 

The both of you stand in the silent shadowed room in your chemises and undone hair.

Before you met her, Thérèse was a sombre, serious woman, so still and silent that one might have believed she was slumbering when she was sitting in the chair behind the shop’s counter or tending to the Thursday evening guests in her seat beside the window and away from the night’s events had it not been for the way her eyes fluttered ever so slightly at any rupture of noise and the hypnotic curling of her pale fingers as she stroked the Raquin family’s cat, François, in her lap.

Though it was nearly a year since you’d first met Thérèse and now several months since you’d known her romantically, you often felt you knew her just as much as you did that first night Camille dragged you to his mother’s shop for a game of dominoes alongside Laurent.

She reaches out to take your hand, pulling it close to her, and your arm lifts loosely. 

You turn towards her and walk towards the bed because you have little else to do. 

Thérèse wraps an arm around you, hugging you and burying her face against the side of your breast. Her arm drops when you lean forward and get into bed. She follows, moving close against your side until her breasts press against your upper arm. 

With her fingers wrapped around the side of your neck and the corner of your jaw, she turns your head to her. Thérèse kisses you, eyebrows pushing together and exhaling a soft hum in excited relief. Her arm wraps around your waist and her free hand rounds to the back of your neck, guiding you to move on top of her.

Feeling beside yourself and with little control, you let Thérèse move your body until you’re laying on top of her, knees on either side of her thighs. Her hand moves up to the back of your head, playing with your hair and leading your face down to her neck. She moans when your lips make contact with her and you begin kissing your way to her pulse.

You no longer wanted to control yourself nor anything else, and certainly not Thérèse. You no longer wanted to take, and Therese knew of nothing but how to give.

“Please,” she huffs. “I want your fingers inside of me.”

You oblige without knowing why. Perhaps you do it out of instinct; not knowing what else you would’ve done if you had declined. You push her nightgown up her thighs and she rubs her knee against your side.

Thérèse is the only woman you’ve ever known intimately. Her long dark-brown hair fans out against the pillow her head lays on. The lamp from the nightstand illuminates her face with a warm radiance, creating the illusion that the pale shade of her skin is glowing. The curves of her figure are delicate and smooth, and for a moment you entertain being the only one to know such paths of her body.

You never imagined being with any other woman, let alone ever loving anyone but Thérèse. The thought that you may have always been right disturbs you all the more. 

When your fingers find her place of pleasure and slip through her tight walls, causing Thérèse to moan out and arch up against you, you damn yourself for knowing her body so well. 

You curve your fingers inside her and lean down to bury your face in her breasts, kissing up the soft swells and parting your lips to leave trails of saliva up her skin. With your free hand, you pull the collar of her slip down and wrap your lips around her nipple, then the other. You watch as her eyes screw shut and her soft pink lips part to release her whines into the bedroom.

Your insides churn as you knew she took Laurent’s cock in the same way, a sensual ritual you also knew she loved more than your fingers. 

How could you ever compare to a man?

Yet she tightens her thighs around your hips and pants into your ear when you raise yourself to kiss her neck again as if she craves you more, as if she receives more pleasure from you than him. It disgusts you and you find Thérèse to be a repulsive animal who knows only of its own survival and carnal instincts. You feel you would’ve much rather she hated you.

You bring Thérèse to orgasm then climb down from her and lay back down onto your side of the bed, fingers weakly thrusting into her as she trembles and whimpers beside you. 

When your fingers exit from inside her, Thérèse wraps a hand around your wrist and brings your coated fingers to her lips. She stares at you intently, a soft grin forming as she takes your fingers into her mouth, cleaning it with her tongue. Then she kisses you and places your hand on your chest.

“Shall I read to you?” she asks, mounting herself on her elbow and looking at you with a smile evident of growing excitement.

You turn over to your side, away from your partner.

The smile falls from her face and she frowns. She moves closer to you, wrapping her arm around your chest and leaning up to kiss your neck. 

“Are you upset with me?” she questions, though despite her concern you can hear a twinge of lightheartedness in her tone. 

Thérèse looked incredibly bored at times, dull and near dozing off, then in the next moment, taking very little seriously and laughing at every childish jest she told.

You bury your face in your pillow, increasingly discouraged as you continue to think over the discrepancies in your understanding of her. It is of no consolation to you that after seeing your maiden with a lover, you’re now beginning to realise how much you do not know about her.

Her arm around your upper body shakes you around playfully and she urges you, lips pressed against your cheek, “Tell me. Must I ask François what happened while I was away?”

Opening your eyes and pushing your pillow away from your face, you inquire, “Who accompanied you when you went out this afternoon and until the late evening? Were you alone all day?”

“Of course not,” Thérèse replies, twisting the collar of your chemise around her finger. “I was with Laurent for a bit of the day, then some of my student friends from the university he attended. But he couldn’t join us.”

“What did you do with him?” you ask, your agitation getting the better of you.

With a reply that makes you twitch in a way that surprises you when Thérèse doesn’t notice, she responds witlessly, “Why do you ask that?”

“I’m certain people see you as a couple more frequently than they do us while we live together and show every hint of being involved,” you retort, the sudden reveal of the hidden insecurity confounding even you.

Thérèse seems incredibly amused by this and she moves her leg over your hips. With her hand flat on the bed and the other on your shoulder, she hoists herself up to straddle your lower stomach while pushing you down onto your back and making you look up at her. “Laurent is only a friend,” she says then lowers herself to trail quick pecks down the incline of your jaw, “don’t be so sensitive.”

You pull the blankets over your head, feeling finished with the conversation and fooling yourself into believing you’d end it this way.

She tugs the blankets back down to uncover your face with a strength you often forget Thérèse has. She asks as if with the intention to provoke, “What if he was my lover? Would you be jealous?” 

“No,” you answer plainly, lying.

“Why not?” she presses, unsatisfied with your response.

‘You’ve always fancied him,’ you want to say, and, ‘Because it would be your choice in doing so.”

But you say neither. 

What good would it do? 

Even if it would have been favourable to simply get your bitterness out into the open, you don’t have enough confidence nor strength to even entertain doing it.

Fortunately for you, she sleeps with her back to you that night, seemingly perturbed by your answer to her question earlier; any contact with her while you fell asleep might have conjured night terrors. 

You awaken in the morning with Thérèse’s arm around your midriff anyways, perhaps having chosen to forgive you during the night or as result of a habitual act, rejecting the troubled feelings she felt even as she was asleep. 

She stays asleep while you slip out from under her arm and stand from the bed. 

Hours you’ve spent staring at Thérèse’s sleeping face since you ravished her body intimately that first time you spent the night together. You listened intently to every soft breath she took, watched the faint fluttering of her eyelids as she dreamt, smiled at the quiet noises she would sometimes make in her sleep.

You swore your heart truly did do several somersaults when you heard her mutter out your name in her sleep once. That entire day was spent smiling giddily while Thérèse pressed you to tell her what had gotten you so joyful, to which you only responded each time she asked with kisses that made her giggle and declarations of your love that made her swoon. 

But this morning you avoid looking at her. 

How many times had Laurent seen the same sight, loved her as you do? Where do his hands travel as he watches the rising and falling of her partially uncovered breasts and the vulnerability of her soft lips? Did Thérèse like how he woke her up more than how you did, which was often with a soft kiss to her forehead or not at all?

Such thoughts ate at you from the inside, and because you were dignified, you chose to look away from Thérèse when you could. 

The shop needs to be tended to and Thérèse, despite everything, cannot run it herself for the entirety of the day, so leaving until the evening is out of the question. 

You heat water in a steel pitcher in the fireplace. You cut a few slices of bread, lather it in jelly, and place bits of cheese on top of it evenly. 

As you sit in the kitchen, fingernails running down the lines in the wooden table, eating your bread and sipping your tea, you silently question how you’d approach today. 

If Thérèse left again as she has been for the last few weeks, you’d let her without question. The time away from her would be rejuvenating, in many senses. Perhaps you’d clear your mind, think up a plan. But a plan for what, you did not know.

Thérèse descends the arcade and you feel yourself bristle, damning yourself for not having finished your breakfast in time to leave the kitchen before she arrived.

Seeing the hot water still in the kettle by the fireplace, Thérèse takes it with her and places it in front of you on the table. She rounds the chairs and lowers herself to you, a hand coming to place itself on your furthest cheek before kissing your temple. “I apologise for antagonising you last night,” she says. 

Her thumb runs across your chin and when her hand removes itself from your cheek, her fingers move down your cheek, caressing you tenderly. She pined for you the moment she woke up to find you weren’t in bed, reconsidering for several moments what she had said to you the evening prior.

She doesn’t badger you any further when you don’t respond, only making herself tea and spreading jelly onto one of the bread slices you cut earlier. She takes a seat beside you, adjacently, as you’re sitting at the end of the table.

Not a word is shared between the two of you, with Thérèse giving you time to become less irritated and you delighting in every moment you did not have to partake in conversation with her, until you both leave the kitchen after breakfast to open the shop together.

For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, Thérèse sits behind the counter with François in her lap, petting him idly. You sit behind the counter, near her, fidgeting with various kinds of beads and thread and ribbon. The bubbling agitation she knows is brewing within you drives Thérèse slightly mad as she’s forced to watch you for hours.

Eventually, when the peak of the afternoon plateaus and working men and errand-running women finish dropping by the haberdashery during their lunchtimes, Thérèse reaches her limit in being patient with you. 

François leaps off from her lap when her thighs shift under her skirts. Thérèse stands from her seat and wraps an arm around your shoulders. She rounds you and swings a leg over your knees before sitting herself down in your lap. She wraps her other arm around your neck and pulls herself close to you.

Thérèse lifts her hand to your forehead, pushing your hair back and placing a kiss there. “I wish to pleasure you,” she says and kisses your lips. “What shall I do?” 

“I wish for nothing.”

“I want for you what you give to me.”

At the sound of the word, you perk up and look up at Thérèse, who is looking down at you with a warm smile you’d thought for months was only for you. Unbeknownst to you, Thérèse has never looked at Laurent like she looks at you, for she doesn't love him at all. She holds no sentiment for him. 

But again, you look away from her and stubbornly reply, “I am comfortable with the arrangement we have now.”

Therese’s smile falls and she follows your redirected gaze with her eyes, her lips parting as something grave settles within her. 

For the first time, Thérèse suspects you have a lover. 

She begins to see Laurent infrequently, if at all. She spends every waking moment with you, finding every way to service you and ravish you with her kisses and gentle touches. How could you possibly adore anyone more than her if she never took her eyes off you for a moment? It never crosses her that there are many ways for you to detest her for that very reason, and they come to you at every touch of her hand and every contact her soft lips have with your skin. 

Thérèse takes pride in the time she spends with you while you dread every hour with her. She hardly ever leaves your side.

Initially, you detested the way Thérèse slipped out of the shop, waving you a sweet goodbye before disappearing into the busy crowds of Rue de Seine. But now you’d count the days until she leaves you next.

An evening comes when Thérèse is overtaken with passion. Something gnaws at her and makes her unbearably anxious, the banal days in the shop having worsened her natural habit of becoming taken with nervous thoughts. She cannot keep herself away from you, roaming her hands anywhere they could reach along your body, her breath trembling with anticipation or nerves- neither she or you could tell.

She undresses you while the two of you stand in the bedroom, kissing down the valley of your breasts through your chemise as you look up at the ceiling aimlessly.

Thérèse looks up at you to see the pleasure stricken across your face as she kneads your breast in one hand, and feels dejection come over her heavily when she is met only with disinterest. 

Now desperate, she takes your wrists into either one of her hands and sits you down onto the chair by the fireplace. She climbs onto your lap and kisses your lips, then each of your fingers and your chin.

Then Thérèse’s chest flares with a sharp inhale, her breaths quickening as her anxiety further blankets her, soon to completely engulf her in doubts and terrors.

A week had passed of Thérèse’s care and concern without any notable progress. How have you been communicating with your lover? Did you truly still think of them when she was pleasuring you with her tongue or making you meals, kissing you to sleep as to banish your night terrors and taking up extra responsibilities in the shop for you? She herself forgets about Laurent most days.

“Do you think I don’t know about your lover?” she snaps suddenly, straightening herself and looking down at you. Her expression is riddled with more fright than fury, even as the red-orange light from the fireplace casts angry flames onto her face.

Like the inginiting flicker of a match, you burst up from your seat, forcing Thérèse off of your lap and nearly sending her tumbling to the floor had it not been for the quick reflex of her left foot. Your sudden passionate burst of emotion soothes Thérèse’s anxieties momentarily, but they return when you begin shouting at her.

“I have a lover?” you repeat, eyes wide and wild with wrath. At the sound of your voice and having never heard you so angry before, Thérèse stays silent, now unsure of her previous resolve. “Jest about it as much as you wish, but I know about Laurent and the relations you have with him behind my back.”

Thérèse wants to sink into herself.

“You selfish bitch, never thinking even once of me and only of yourself,” you jeer.

Her shoulders raise as she bristles. “You are correct about my affair with Laurent, but you could not be more wrong saying that I am selfish,” she opposes.

“Enlighten me, Thérèse.”

“I’ve spent this entire week tending to you, doing everything for you to abandon this imaginary mistress and become mine once more,” she argues. Her lips part to argue again but you scoff and interrupt her.

“Heaven forbid you pay any mind to your partner,” you say.

Thérèse’s anxiety returns when she silently questions if any of her gestures ever warmed your heart as she had intended for them to, and if you were involved with other people, she wouldn’t have won you over with any of the attempts she made anyways.

“Why did you begin seeing Laurent?” you question, your expression calm once more and only adding to the young woman’s nerves.

To Thérèse, her affair with Laurent is as necessary as sleep is to any creature, and being with you is as necessary as the rest of the waking day is. Could she not love being awake more? Did she damn the waking hours if she should fall asleep in the evening? To her, the answer is simple. Her reasoning is simple. 

But you did not see it that way.

There is curiosity and the exploration of another, a man, especially, as the centre of her affair. What harm could it have done if Thérèse continued to love you all the same, if not more every day? Your response to her affair contrasts her very values, the foundation in which she ever began the affair with Laurent. It confounds her more than anything, and she pleads for your forgiveness because she wouldn’t be able to bear the consequences of what she’d done, particularly if they meant you would leave her. 

She takes your hands into hers and squeezes them.

“Please, I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’ve stopped seeing him. You’ve noticed, haven’t you? I haven’t spent even an afternoon without you, and I don’t think of him at all. I’ve enjoyed caring for you, I’ll show you. Whatever you need, I will provide for you. I love you.”

Simply, you ask, “Why did you avoid answering my question that evening when I asked you what you did with him?” 

When Thérèse struggles to answer, you take your hands from her and leave, choosing to sleep in the spare room that used to be Madame’s.

You force Thérèse to sign off on a cheque that gives you half of your rightful claim to the rest of the money Madame left the two of you after she settled with Camille someplace else. It will be enough to move away and find a job, especially now that you have several years’ worth of experience in accounting and a few months in the haberdashery business. 

Thérèse writes to you often, and to many of her letters you never reply or even bother opening. She seals it with wax dyed with your favourite colour and prints your name and mailing post in the most delicate way on the envelope. In many ways, the letter on its own is every kiss and embrace she wishes to give you, and you sometimes cannot even give her the pleasure of doing anything more than taking it from the mailbox and tossing it into the fireplace. 

You’ve never told her your address, only the post to which she could send her letters to. 

Never forgetting to miss a week, a letter comes to you from Thérèse every Monday. 

When you do decide to open them, you do so because of curiosity- not out of concern or the feeling of obligation. Every week, Thérèse never fails to send you a letter, which you can feel with your fingers through the envelope filled with several sheets of paper. 

What could she be writing so much about every week when she often got no more than a letter back every three fortnights? 

She sometimes discusses the shop’s patrons with you, asking whether you believe red or black thread would work with a certain sleeve, or a front or back stitch on a certain hemming. Such things you often used to discusse with Thérèse when you worked together. It was a pleasure to work with someone you loved, being close to them and sharing creative ideas back and forth as you stitched and ironed together. There was little chance you could get back to her by the time the order needed to be finished, so you never understood why she kept writing about silly details like that. 

Paragraphs, and sometimes an entire page, would be dedicated to asking you questions, inquiring if you were at the very least living by the Seine or if you enjoyed your job and have finally settled into your new place, and if you’d ever consider visiting Passage du Pont-Neuf, even if only for a week in the summer. 

She ensures in every letter that you know she would welcome you back if you ever find yourself without anywhere else to go or if you were only visiting. If she ever thinks about you coming back to stay with her again, which she very often does, she never writes about it for the fear you’d never write back to her. 

Though she has implied her curiosity many times, you never tell her whether you have begun a relationship with anyone. She did not deserve to know even that. 

When you choose to take the time to do so, you write back with nearly the same answers, but Thérèse is no less thrilled each time she opens the mailbox and sees your envelope. You get a letter back twice as quickly when you send one out to her, while she still never forgets to send you another that weekend so as to ensure it arrives by Monday.

You never plan to visit Thérèse, and somewhere within her endless questions and offers for you to stay in the extra room during the summer, she finds herself knowing it too.

A year has passed since you left the young woman, and a year since you’ve seen the haberdashery or Rue de Seine.

You finish reading the stack of papers in your hands- your letter for the week.

The town of Westview was a rather quiet one, though both you and your wife really loved the neighbourhood community, for it was friendly and close-knit. When you first moved into Westview together, it was because Wanda’s job had relocated her to somewhere further than where you had previously lived, and close to the charming town that was alike to the kind you had always talked about living in together.

Both of you were delighted to find that the people of Westview were welcoming and kind, and that there were frequently tourists that made the small town buzz with life, for Westview’s small-town charm along with its infamous preservation of its older architecture and landscape was a sight that many of those from the more bustling areas of New Jersey enjoyed visiting.

Though Westview had a tightly-knit community and a steady flow of cheerful tourists, it was rather uncommon for the small town to get new people moving in, so when one of the new neighbours ended up working alongside Wanda, the two of you were rather eager to get to know them — a long-time married couple with two children who’d graduated from college and were now living elsewhere.

After about two weeks of scheduling between the four of you, dinner that had long been spoken about was finally happening at yours and Wanda’s. 

You were looking forward to it, for Wanda spoke quite highly of the wife, who she described as an extremely kind and funny woman. You had spoken with her a few times too, but only by chance like under casual circumstances when you were bringing in groceries with Wanda and she was out gardening. 

Additionally, Virginia, the wife, lived in Russia until she was eight, and though Wanda was Sokovian, the two were able to initially enjoy discussing their Slavic similarities in culture and dialect until they became closer, chatting casually about things from their spouses to Westview. Eventually, conversation led up to Wanda inviting Virginia and her husband, Vision, over for dinner. 

You were looking forward to it, and though Wanda was looking forward to dinner with the neighbours too, she also enjoyed hosting and cooking, and so the kitchen was busy and smelling wonderfully for the last little while as you cooked together. 

Mostly, it was Wanda who took the lead with cooking, but since being married, her talents had rubbed off on you; you could now dice onions at perhaps two-thirds of the speed she could, and Wanda also always says you’re good at cleaning up after her while she cooks.

But also, you really just loved doing things like this with her, when you could just talk about anything, just the two of you, while doing things you could only dream about when the two of you were still only dating, living in a place together that you could also only dream about back then. 

You wrapped your arm around your wife’s waist once she slid the potato dauphinoise into the oven and shut it, pulling her into your body and kissing her forehead. “I love you,” you uttered into her warm skin. 

She held your chin in her hand and angled your face to hers so she was able to kiss your lips. “I love you too,” she replied, smiling sweetly at you. 

Your guests were five minutes early, perhaps to make a good impression, for they could have been exactly on time if they so preferred seeing as though they lived right next door. 

It was you who opened the door as Wanda was finishing up a few things in the kitchen, ensuring the cheesecake you had made earlier was comfortably sitting in the fridge waiting until it was time to serve dessert.

Also, she thought it’d be a good impression for you to greet them first, since you’d yet to meet either of them officially.

Cheesecake was actually your signature greatest achievement in the kitchen aside from nearly — not nearly at all, really, but you like to boast — keeping up Wanda’s onion-chopping. You’d taken the cheesecake recipe from a cookbook, and it was Wanda who adjusted most of the measurements and changed some of the ingredients, but it was you who could make it perfectly.

Well, Wanda could make it perfectly too, and probably better, but she never tried; she liked the way you made it, and gave you recipe credit though it was her who really reconstructed it to be what it tasted like now. But she always says that it was you who found the original recipe, at the end of the day.

Not that any of that would matter to your guests, and maybe it might be a story told over dinner if the topic came up, but it mattered plenty to you and Wanda; you wanted to concoct a special dinner together, preparing dishes with special meaning. Though some of said meanings were not as profound in their history as the cheesecake’s, like how Wanda lathered the dinner rolls in butter a second time halfway through because you liked when the top of the rolls weren’t completely dry by the time they were finished baking.

In any case, the intention was to host a dinner that was friendly and warm, and so the dinner spread was selected with intention.

“Hi,” you greeted with a smile, waving a bit awkwardly for no reason at all before ushering them into the foyer and closing the front door behind them. “You must be Virginia — I’ve heard lots about you from Wanda.”

The woman, slightly taller than you and with smooth, soft looking dark hair that ended at the mid-way point of her slender neck, beamed at you as she stepped into the house, her husband following behind her. She took your hand with both of hers, warm fingers caressing your hand gently. “And you must be Y/N. I’ve also heard quite a bit about you from Wanda,” she said, eyes crinkling at their edges as she smiled.

She gestured to her husband, a clean-shaved blonde man with aviators, slightly shorter than his wife but still a bit taller than you. “This is my husband, Vision,” she introduced. “I don’t believe even Wanda’s yet met his acquaintance.”

It was when Vision shifted the lidded ceramic bowl into his other hand to free one in order to shake your hand that you realised he was carrying something. You shook his hand with a friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said cordially and with a smile.

“Virginia!” Wanda cheerfully greeted as she walked into the foyer, hair fixed up and now without her cooking apron on. They exchanged a hug and Virginia kissed her cheek before introducing Wanda to her husband.

“Thank you for having us,” Virginia said appreciatively. “We’re both thrilled to finally get to know both of you better.”

Wanda replied, sharing a tenderness with Virginia within their met eyes, “You’re very welcome. Y/N and I have been looking forward to tonight all week.”

“Oh,” you interjected softly, realising Vision was still holding his ceramic bowl. “I’m so sorry, let me take this into the dining room for you.”

“In fact, I’ll also take the both of you into the dining room too,” Wanda added lightheartedly. “Let’s get out of the foyer. You can set your shoes down anywhere by the door, and the coat rack’s right here.”

Once wine had been poured and everyone’s plates were served the dinner you and Wanda had made together — pomegranate-brined chicken with white balsamic charred peach, potato dauphinoise, and a medley of some vegetables — you each sat at the dining room table, enjoying your dinner together.

There was conversation about how wonderfully everything tasted, and you were sure to credit Wanda with taking charge in the kitchen, allowing her to talk a little bit about how she prepared the meal and delving into details the couple asked her about, like how she had made the potato dauphinoise so creamy. 

You began to truly enjoy their company for how much they were complimenting your wife.

Until there was Vision’s, You’re a gorgeous woman who can put together an equally as gorgeous dinner spread — Y/N’s hit the jackpot.

“Dinner couldn’t have been done without Y/N,” Wanda assured and then looked at you with a proud smile mostly meant for your eyes, but you weren’t paying as much attention to her as you were scrutinising Vision’s body language after his comment.

It wasn’t… inherently malicious.

But there was something implicative in his wording that made you slightly sceptical of him.

Perhaps in an attempt to… Well, you actually weren’t entirely sure what Virginia was attempting to do when she lightly corrected, “Both Y/N and Wanda have hit the jackpot finding each other. You two seem so perfect for each other. Not to mention, if I might be so blunt, you’re a rather attractive couple.”

Wanda laughed, but in the way she regarded Virginia’s expression for just an additional moment before looking back down to her plate to respond with something humble and bashful, you knew she was also curious about the other couple’s compliments.

“I moved the wine around!” you tried, intentionally poorly, to call after Wanda when conversation came around to discussing the different wines you had, resulting in Wanda leaving to go get one the opposite couple loved. “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t believe I’ve yet told her how I reorganised down there.”

As you headed down the hallway, you inhaled and exhaled thoroughly to untie the uneasy kink in your stomach, sure to keep your shoulders still so your tenseness wasn’t obvious to your guests who could still see your back until you headed downstairs to where the wine was kept, for their comments hadn’t stopped since the first time.

Wanda looked over her shoulder at you when you descended the stairs and she straightened from looking around at the selection. “Baby, do we still have the Pinot Grigio they were asking about?” she asked, hands on her hips as she leaned back a bit and ran her eyes over the selection on the wall in front of her.

“Are they swingers or something?” you asked as you approached, placing a hand atop Wanda’s hand on her hip as you reached around her and took the white from the wall to her left.

“Oh, you moved them,” Wanda noted, thanking you when you handed it to her. 

You stood beside her in front of the wine rack and repeated your question, looking up at the closed basement door before asking again. “Are they swingers?”

“What?” Wanda looked up from surveying the wine, looking confused. “What are swingers?” 

Clarifying, you replied, “Couples who sleep with other couples.”

“Them?” she asked incredulously and laughed. You took that as a ‘no,’ then looked over at the basement door curiously as if you could see them through it, ruminating over their comments. Then Wanda was silent and unmoving and you looked at her as she was tapping her fingers against the glass of wine, seemingly in deep thought of her own. “Well… Come to think of it…”

“Wanda!” you hissed. “You invited swingers over to our place for dinner!”

“I didn’t know!” she answered. “I just thought… Virginia talks about her sex life often and I suppose there are some times that she’s alluded to… to swinging about with other couples—”

“It sounds weird when you use that term like that — just say sleeping with,” you interrupted.

Your wife gave you a look and you cracked a tiny amused smile before she continued. “Anyway, yes, I suppose they’re swingers. I didn’t know!”

With your arms crossed, you tapped your fingers against your upper arm in thought, and Wanda supposed you were thinking of how to converse with them now that you both knew they were swingers. But instead you asked hesitantly, meeting Wanda’s eyes, “Are you… interested in that?”

Wanda scoffed. “Y/N, no. Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied. You surveyed her face for a moment longer and she fully turned her body to face you. “You really think I want to sleep with other couples?”

“No, I don’t, but we’ve never had the conversation before, so it’s possible that you’ve had it on your mind before, even in passing.”

She assured, “I do not want to sleep with anyone else but you.” It was almost funny to hear those words come out of her if you thought about it with no context, but context given, it was really a relief to you. “I’m entirely satisfied with only us, and the thought of being with anyone else disturbs me greatly. I’m not offended that you asked just to make sure, but the idea of being with another couple, or anyone but you, has never been anything that I’ve entertained. Y/N, I didn’t even know what swinging was until a moment ago.”

“Okay?” she checked in, her voice soft, letting her other hand with the wine hang by her hip while she stepped towards you and cupped your cheek with a warm hand. “I really didn’t know — and not even subconsciously, if you’re thinking that.”

“Okay,” you confirmed and smiled at her, causing Wanda to smile at you in response. She leaned forward and kissed you.

When she pulled away, she met your eyes and your chest warmed when Wanda’s smile crinkled the sides of her eyes. Her thumb rubbed against your chin adoringly. “I’m unsure how we ought to go about signalling a lack of interest in having sex with them,” she told you.

“Just a lack of reciprocation, maybe?” you suggested, and at that, you perked up at the recollection of their commentary that you now knew was flirtatious. “Wanda, if Vision calls you gorgeous one more time, I’ll fuck you over the dining table monogamously in front of them — I’m serious. It’s driving me crazy. He’s right, but to know they’re both just thinking of how much more gorgeous you’d be if we were all having sex is rather startling.”

It wasn’t that they weren’t making subtle passes at you too, but since Wanda was far more communicative and talkative, it was natural that their efforts to become closer circulated your wife far more than it did you.

Wanda laughed and pushed at your shoulder playfully, her head thrown back slightly. “You’re such a freak,” she said. She took your hand and you headed out of the basement together. “It’s okay. Now that we’ve spoken about it together, I’m sure it’ll be much less awkward since we know they’re swingers. It likely won’t be a problem until they bring it up, and then we can clarify that we’re not interested.”

The plan was more than simple, but it failed to consider how agitated you were becoming, little comments now seeming much larger now that their intentions were clarified between you and your wife. 

It was things from Virginia noting how you seemed to be the one to ‘take charge’ in the marriage, to asking outright how often the two of you had sex, about children and the possibility of them, and plenty of other things that were likely of no consequence but seemed irritating to you because you were simply irritated. 

Mostly, it was Virginia’s comments that were permitted to be slightly more vulgar as it was she who asked about yours and Wanda’s sex life, for she was now more than only work friends with your wife, and she’d shared much about her own intimate tendencies with Vision before. 

The conversations about sex weren’t crude, and mostly they were merely jokes, but knowing the intentionality behind them now made them far more than that.

But it was about more than references to sex; there were comments made about how both you and Wanda were such a perfect couple, how well you worked together and how kind you were — observations upon observations about how you and Wanda were within your marriage.

It seemed they had standards, at least.

And truly, Virginia and Vision were kind people and you would thoroughly enjoy having them as neighbours as soon as it was made clear that you and Wanda weren’t interested in sleeping with them.

What irritated you wasn’t necessarily all about them and their commentary, for they knew not that you and Wanda weren’t interested, and anyways, if Virginia had been alluding to being a swinger along with her husband on several occasions, this dinner might very well be interpreted by them as interest.

So you didn’t necessarily dislike them.

It was all true that you and Wanda made a wonderful pair and that Wanda was gentle and so generous, and that she was beautiful and all the things that had been said about her tonight. 

She was very funny too when she wanted to be, and had great taste in movies and all her clothes always sat so well on her shoulders, and her hair was always so soft and the crook of her neck was always very warm, and her fingers were gentle and curious when she had them wrapped around you, and she was so delicate when she slept, and her elbows were a nice shape, though you don’t think you ever told her what you thought about her elbows — all this Virginia and Vision didn’t know, but for whatever reason, you thought so much about it all.

And for another inexplicable reason, it was rather related to how irritated you were.

“Y/N and I have been married for two and a half-ish years now,” Wanda said in response to a question you weren’t listening to, placing her hand on your thigh. You looked over at her and she smiled at you sweetly. 

You’d only said a few things in the last few minutes, little comments and visible reactions to show that you were engaged in the conversation, but nothing majorly contributory. You looked to the side in brief thought then said, “Two years and… seven months.” 

With a second more to think, you also added, “Three days.”

Wanda thought that was funny, but also sweet, and her smile widened, perking up her ears slightly as her smile grew. She squeezed your knee and pulled her hand away to take a sip of wine. “Indeed — two years, eight months, and three days.”

“If we feel so inclined to place trust in my math,” you joked modestly.

You watched as Wanda conversed further with your guests, watching the way she laughed and how she looked over at you often to see your reactions to things or to just make eye contact with you. Specifically, you liked when she looked at you while she was laughing to see if you were also laughing, to share in that joy with you.

As you watched your wife between sips of wine, there was a rupture of adrenaline that came over you. All that you’d been thinking of about Wanda wasn’t some abstract concept about some idea of Wanda — they were all about the woman you loved, the woman who loved you, the woman you were married to.

The woman who was yours, and who’d only ever be yours, as you were hers.

The thought warmed you and made you feel delighted, but your cheeks felt warm and the wine warmed your throat and chest in such a pleasant way, and suddenly, you needed Wanda then and there like you knew you had her.

“Are we all ready for dessert?” Wanda asked, looking around at the table to see everyone’s plates empty with their silverware to the side. 

When Vision confirmed for both himself and Virginia, Wanda said, “Y/N’s made a wonderful cheesecake for the occasion. She can be quite the chef.” Her praise made you feel a bit bashful and you smiled at her gratefully.

Virginia expressed excitement for dessert while you and Wanda collected the empty plates to bring to the kitchen, letting them know it’d be a few minutes.

You followed behind Wanda as she headed down the hallway and into the kitchen. Dishes were thoroughly emptied and rinsed before being placed into the sink while Wanda carefully took the cheesecake out of the fridge.

“Can you take this?” she asked, holding the cake out to you. You took it from her and placed it on the island counter at the centre of the kitchen. “I think I’ll slice some fresh fruit and arrange it nicely on top. I didn’t want to do it before it was served or it wouldn’t be fresh.”

You were listening, but not quite taking in what she was saying. You watched her closely as she took out some fruits and honey from the fridge and brought it to the counter before taking out the cutting board. She tucked loose hair behind her ears and pushed her sleeves up.

Her neck was exposed and you felt the urge to smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her skin against the tip of your nose.

You stepped forward so your pelvis was pressed against her hip, an arm wrapped around her waist as you pulled her close and ducked your head beyond the strands of her hair, burying your nose in her neck. She tipped her head to the side, allowing you room to kiss up her neck.

You felt the vibrations of her laugh against your lips.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I need you,” you answered briefly, using your other hand to tug her sleeve down slightly and expose some of her shoulder so you could kiss there too. There was no response from her aside from a soft hum, and you knew it had been on her mind too. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about it; all their implications have made me think of you all night.”

“And that constitutes you needing me now?” she asked, turning her head to look down at your face along the slope of your nose and forehead seeing as your face was still half-buried within the crook of her neck. “I would have thought you’d be too busy brooding.”

She was trying half-heartedly to taper your desire, but the soft inflection in her voice told you she’d certainly felt the same thrum you’d been feeling too.

“I was busy with far more important things.” You wrapped your fingers around her wrist carefully and led her hand down to between your hips, and in spite of her hesitation, Wanda’s fingers wrapped delicately around you through your pants. Your hips immediately bucked into her hand.

Wanda inhaled sharply then sighed at the feeling of you. “Y/N…” Your name trembled on her lips. You watched as she swallowed, eyes flickering up at the hallway in front of you both. Her jaw tensed and she looked back down, fingers twitching as she internally fought against her most rational objections.

She bit the inside of her cheek before her hand moved, unbuttoning your pants then unzipping. She met your eyes, her hand pausing momentarily, perhaps wishing you might change your mind suddenly and stop her before she was unable to stop herself. But you said nothing, only meeting her eyes with stubborn conviction.

Your gaze made her cheeks flush a soft pink and Wanda shifted in her spot, pushing her own hips against the edge of the island counter, no doubt feeling her own desire growing. She looked down and tucked her hand past the waistband of your underwear, pulling it down along with your pants until your cock was free.

“I’ve been thinking about having your lips around my cock,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the lobe of her ear. “About the way you groan when I pull out just enough so you can taste the way you make me feel against your tongue before I fuck myself down your throat. I thought about how beautiful your pussy looks when I lay you down and spread your cunt open. I thought about you.”

Her breathing became heavy at the sight of your arousal, seeing how you twitched as you spoke about her. Her hand wrapped around you, her thumb brushing gently over your sensitive tip and eliciting a soft grunt from you.

“Fuck, Wanda,” you cursed from beyond clenched teeth. Your hips twitched forward into her hand and Wanda didn’t wait a moment before giving you the friction you wanted, her hand jerking around you and repressing a moan of her own as she felt you throb and twitch in the warm confines of her palm.

Your arm wrapped around her waist advanced upwards, pulling up some of her shirt and exposing some of her lower stomach as your hand groped at Wanda’s clothed breast.

She let out a soft moan and you watched as she squeezed her thighs together and further pressed her pelvis into the kitchen counter in desperation. Her hand gained speed, ensuring to graze around your tip each time her hand continued its rhythm around you. Her head rested on your shoulder as she watched the way she touched you, watched the way you let her touch you, her breaths shaky as she felt her own desire climb.

But how could you deny your wife mutual pleasure?

You moved the cutting board to the side and Wanda watched as you readjusted things. 

“Y/N, don’t,” she protested quietly. “We can’t.”

Ignoring her, you moved from her side, her hand releasing from around you as you placed your hands on her hips and pressed her against the counter. 

You unbuttoned her pants and watched over Wanda’s shoulder as she watched your hands, her chest rising and falling, gripping the edge of the counter. She was so warm against your body and her perfume smelled so nice. 

You pulled her pants down along with her underwear, allowing you to press your cock against her perfect ass. 

Wanda exhaled a deep, trembling sigh and she leaned forward against the counter. “Y/N,” she weakly protested again, reaching back and trying to swat your hand away. 

Impatient about wanting her to give up her hesitation, you pulled her pants down further below her ass and slotted yourself between her thighs, parting her wet cunt with your dick and brushing your tip against her clit. 

Her head fell back against your shoulder and you felt her thighs squeeze together ever so slightly, nudging you up against her clit. 

“We can’t?” you asked. 

“They’ll…” Wanda braced herself again and straightened her back, knuckles turning white as she pressed the pads of her fingers into the underside of the counter. “They’re in the other room. We’d have to…”

“Be quick?”

She nodded. 

“I can be quick,” you told her. You kissed the corner of her jaw, the hollow part behind her earlobe. “You know I can be quick.”

Your hand slid down her stomach, the heel of your hand brushing against the space between her hips before your fingers found her clit. Carefully, you brushed them against her, feeling the way she twitched her ass back against you, subtly rubbing herself against your cock that was still throbbing between her thighs. 

“Beg me to fuck you.”

Wanda looked over her shoulder at you. “What?” she asked. “I thought you wanted–”

“But you were so adamant that we couldn’t. Now, I’m not so convinced myself,” you said. “You’ll have to beg me.”

“Y/N, please,” she whispered impatiently. 

You gave a quick pinch to her clit and Wanda repressed a yelp as her body jolted against yours. “That’s not how you beg, baby.”

Wanda urged, “We don’t have time.”

“Make time.”

Impatient, you spanked Wanda’s ass lightly and took a handful of the soft flesh, eliciting a sharp inhale from your wife before she sighed out, “Oh, Y/N…”

She reached back, parting from your hips to make enough room for her hand. She wrapped her hand around your cock and stroked it slowly, bending herself over the counter and presenting herself to you obediently. 

“Please, daddy,” she begged. “I want you inside me. I want… I want you. Please. I need you.”

You watched as her desperate hand continued to pleasure you, watched as her back arched as she bent over the counter. You pushed her shirt up her back, eyes running up the delicate curve of her spine and feeling with your palm the smoothness of her soft skin. 

“Are you… Are you going to?” Wanda asked nervously, fully aware of the fact that you had every liberty to pull away and forget all about wanting to fuck her right there and then. She wasn’t exactly meeting your eyes, not that she could at the angle she was looking back over her shoulder at you, but she wasn’t exactly trying to either, for the possibility of you leaving her all desperate and unfucked was all too real.

You hummed in what sounded like consideration, but really, you were just running your eyes down the curve of Wanda’s lower back and the perfect swells of her ass, watching the way she continued to hesitantly stroke you, desperate to please and desperate to have you inside of her.

“How could I deny you, Wanda?” you finally answered, and you saw your wife flush from beyond her mess of loose strands, looking away and at the hallway ahead that led to the dining room. 

“We really have to be quick,” she reminded, letting go of you but not without brushing her thumb over your tip again. 

A hand came to her upper back and flattened her against the kitchen counter, a soft grunt leaving Wanda as was pressed down against the marble. “You really overestimate yourself if you really think it’ll take very long to get you to come,” you mocked, hands hooking under her hips and around her upper thighs, arching her back further and sticking her ass up. 

At the sight of her cunt, you groaned and parted her sticky mess with your thumb and middle finger, brushing your index finger down across her clit. You ran your thumb across her hole, dipping ever so carefully into her before removing your hand to position yourself against her opening.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” you said, “how embarrassed and shy you were every time they mentioned sex or asked about our sex life. Trust me, there were dozens of other things running through my head, but one in particular.”

Wanda gripped at the edge of the counter, taking in a breath as she felt you prod at her opening with your tip, dipping in just enough for her to feel the stretch of your cock sliding into her. “What… What was it?” she asked quietly.

“I wondered why you felt such an urge to act so embarrassed talking about sex when you know what a fucking slut you are,” you gritted out before your hands tightened around her thighs below her hips and pulled her ass back against you so your cock slid into her with a single thrust. 

You leaned forward to grunt against her shoulder, muffling your noises and letting your wife know how good she felt. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good around my dick, angel,” you groaned. “Sweet innocent girls wouldn’t be able to take cock like this, Wanda. You put up a front when you’re with them, but you know how much you love getting your pussy fucked raw by daddy. Isn’t that right?”

Wanda shut her eyes tightly, her moans and yelps being only partially-swallowed as she tried to keep them from escaping past her lips, though it become increasingly difficult as you began thrusting forward, trapping her between the kitchen counter and your hips and forcing her to withstand the entire impact of your brutal fucking.

“Th-That’s right…” she conceded.

“I know it is,” you agreed. “I know it is, because it’s fucking filthy. You’re a filthy slut, baby. You can hear it, can’t you?” You reached down to rub your fingers against your wife’s clit. “You can feel how much it turns you on that you’re all daddy’s, that daddy can fuck you whenever she wants because she owns you.”

Your forehead laid against her shoulder and Wanda reached up to cradle the back of your head with her hand, interlacing her fingers with your hair.

“That’s right. Fucking take it,” you grunted into her ear, feeling yourself growing closer each time Wanda’s walls squeezed around you, listening to her delicate high-pitched yelps every time you pinched her clit or thrusted into her so hard her ass stung with the way your skin slapped against hers. 

Her hips were beginning to become sore with the way they were pressed against the edge of the counter.

“Do any of you need help in there?” Virginia called from the dining room, audibly beginning to head down the hallway to the kitchen. 

“A-Ah, no!” Wanda called back, her attempts at repressing her moans making her response come out slightly more aggressive than she’d wished. “Please don’t! We’re almost finished. Just…” Her head hung as she quickly ran out of excuses, but she couldn’t bring herself to push you away — not when she was so, so close.

Not when you felt this good inside of her, holding her so close against you.

You felt so good with your arms around her.

You took a handful of Wanda’s ass as you shoved her further down against the counter so she was being soundlessly fucked from behind as her hair gradually became undone, her shirt riding up to expose that beautiful curve of her spine that you loved. 

“Wanda’s a bit of a perfectionist with decorating the cake,” you added, digging your nails into her malleable flesh and watching as smooth ivory tinted into a flushed red. “She wants it to be a surprise!”

“I promise we’re… we’re nearly finished!” Wanda called back, slightly breathless, before quickly burying her face into her arms and muffling herself.

Virginia gave in, saying something about having the both of you promise not to work too hard because both she and Vision would love the cake anyways. But neither of you paid much attention once you heard her walking back down to the dining room.

“You feel so good inside of me, daddy,” Wanda whimpered into her arms. “Please come inside. I want to feel you. I wanna feel how warm you are.”

Being degraded always turned Wanda on, but it was being praised that made her come; you loved how your wife was so sensitive to sweet things like that.

So you lifted her from the counter with your arm wrapped around her waist so her arms were taut with her hands gripping the edge of the counter again. From here, you were pressed against her with access to whisper into her ear.

“You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you, sweetheart?” you complimented against her cheek, pressing a kiss there and running your hand beneath the confines of her shirt. “All nervous and hesitant to let daddy make you feel good at first, but you knew better later, didn’t you? You know that I know what’s best for you, honey.”

Wanda nodded fervently. “Yes, I…”

Your hand pulled Wanda’s bra to the side and you kneaded her breast with your hand, feeling the way her nipple hardened against your palm before moving to the other and pinching her other nipple between your thumb and forefinger. “Oh, I know,” you cooed when she leaned back against you with a prolonged, quiet moan. “My princess, you’re such a good girl.”

“Why don’t you listen to what a good girl you are, hm?” you asked, moving both your hands down to grip her hips again and pulling her against you. You watched in detail as you pulled out of her, her glistening pussy wrapped around your cock, before you thrusted back in, your obedient wife taking every inch. 

Both of you listened to how her cunt sounded around your dick, her slick coating you as you throbbed inside of her, her tight walls squeezing you in just the right way, feeling the way the pressure from her walls gripped around your tip when you pulled out at just the right length.

“Fuck, baby, your pussy feels so good,” you groaned, leaning back so you could watch the way her ass looked when you rutted your hips against her. Unable to help yourself in spite of the noise you knew it might make, you delivered a spank to the side of Wanda’s ass. 

You then wrapped your arm around Wanda’s waist again, your other hand moving up to cup the side of her cheek and turn her head around so you could kiss her lips. “Come on, angel, fuck yourself on daddy’s cock. Let me see how badly you wanna come on my dick.”

Wanda obediently began moving, arching her back to allow herself leverage to fuck herself back against you, listening to how her ass slapped back against your hips.

“That’s good, baby. You’re so beautiful,” you breathed out against her neck, kissing the warm expanse as you listened to Wanda whimper and try to hold herself together until you gave her permission to come. Your hand groped her breast again. “You’re so needy for daddy’s cock, hm? You’re making such a fucking mess, Wanda.”

“Y/N…” Wanda whispered, her arm reaching back to grab at the edge of your shirt. “Please let me come. Please.” You kept your chest pressed against her upper back, allowing her to meet your eyes when she turned her head to plead.

“Come all over daddy’s cock, baby, come on,” you permitted. “I love to see you all desperate for me. Let me see you come, Wanda.”

Wanda ground her ass back against your hips, burying your cock deep within her pussy as she came around you, walls gripping at your twitching cock. You felt her pulsate around you as she grasped desperately behind her, searching for your hand. 

You interlaced your fingers with hers and kissed her lips as you came to your own hilt, emptying yourself inside of her and letting her feel your warm cum fill her up to the brim until you could feel yourself dripping out from the sides of her cunt.

Weakly, you continued thrusting into her, fucking your cum deep inside of her as Wanda whimpered, sensitive and still pulsing around you as she felt your sticky warmth shoot up inside of her. 

“Oh… I love when you come inside of me, Y/N,” she breathed out, satisfied and tired as she let go of your hand and used both to balance herself against the counter as she slumped forward.

You grinned at her and kissed the back of her neck as you pulled her underwear up first, giving her sensitive cunt a quick swipe through her panties, telling her to keep your cum in for as long as she could. Then you did her pants back up and did the same for yourself.

The rest of the cheesecake decorating went relatively fast after Wanda quickly cleaned herself up in her kitchen window reflection. 

Actually, neither of you had ever decorated a cheesecake so fast considering you decided to go a bit overboard with some whipped cream to make up for how long you both took — it would’ve made far more sense to come out with a more intricately decorated cake. It was a decently-sized cake, just enough for four people to enjoy, so it didn’t take as long as it would’ve if it were sized regularly.

“Oh, we were so worried you might’ve needed help with the dessert,” Virginia said the moment the both of you stepped into the dining room, Wanda with the cake in hand and you with the plates and silverware.

“We’re so sorry,” Wanda apologised. “One of us set the cake lopsided in the fridge and it came out a bit kooky, so we had to reshape it and all. And then the organising of the fruit and—” She waved her hand dismissively as she set the cake down. “Well, it’s all finished now.”

You set the plates down for everyone along with their respective knives and forks. “We hope you didn’t have to wait too long,” you told them apologetically.

Aside from how your initial impression as a couple spiked Virginia and Vision’s interest in wanting to sleep with both you and Wanda, the meal thus far must’ve paid off, for they really didn’t seem irritated at all after waiting for dessert. 

And they did end up enjoying the cake too.

Except for Wanda, however, who seemed to be rather distracted with something else. You watched as she kept readjusting herself in her seat, her thighs squeezing together every so often and taking sips of her wine just to fidget with the handle of the glass.

You were rather eager to fuck your wife in the bedroom too after dinner, but before that, to see how much of your cum had leaked out of her.

gif credit to luke-skywalker

Lately, it’s been your intention to waste any amount of time possible after getting off early from work in order to avoid coming home to Wanda, who you knew was home from school. She was a high school teacher, and yet always found the time to come home before dinner, always enough time to spend the rest of the day with you.

The time and devotion she put into being with you whenever she could was one of Wanda’s greatest traits. Like every person, she had her faults, but Wanda was almost… the perfect wife.

It wasn’t something to complain about, and you certainly couldn’t have ever fathomed it being a factor of any argument until a few weeks ago.

Perhaps it was a coincidental meshing of stressors that had caused it — Vision’s asking for Wanda’s permission to take the twins on a week’s vacation with his girlfriend, your concern with being liked by Tommy and Billy as much as they liked their father’s partner, your late nights at work, Wanda missing you when she had come home on time with the intention to be with you. 

Such things were never urgent issues until they boiled up into an argument from both parties, bringing up concerns and worries that neither of you had ever even known were on the other’s mind. 

Then it was the lack of communication that became frustrating, then it was the anger that was redirected to nothing in particular but the very nature of the hostile situation that only seemed to grow by the minute. 

For close to an hour and a half, you and Wanda argued in the kitchen after Vision picked up the kids for the weekend, and finally ending it off with Wanda storming upstairs and abruptly choosing not to discuss anything any longer. 

Finding that things were otherwise hostile and at the brink of exploding again, you chose to sleep in the guest room, which was where you’d been sleeping since the argument occurred weeks ago. 

In the morning after, Wanda eyed you coming out of the guest room to head to work as she was packing her things for school. She seemed like she had opinions about where you’d decided to sleep that evening, but she kept quiet about it. 

To make matters worse, you and Wanda talked very little for the next while. Along with not sleeping in the same bed, you hadn’t had sex let alone touched each other at all.

You had things to say of your own, opinions that had been formed since the argument, and apologies, most importantly. But you could never read in Wanda’s face whether she was still upset, so you were never sure of how to bring anything up or what to say if you were to say something to her.

One afternoon on a weekend nearly two weeks after the argument when neither you nor Wanda had work, you came back home with bags of groceries and set them down on the kitchen counter.

When you left that morning, you supposed Wanda was asleep in the bedroom upstairs as you hadn’t spoken to her before you left. There wasn’t any sign of her having come downstairs yet, so you imagined that perhaps she was still sleeping. Even so, the time without your wife had reached the brim of unbearability, and you knew you had to speak with her at some point. 

It was immature to keep loved ones in that silent, passive aggressive limbo for days instead of simply speaking with them about things that were important. The tension at home and the strain on your relationship with her and the nights and days without her greatly outweighed whatever pride and comfort came from avoiding the inevitable conversation.

So you stalled for a little and put away the groceries before heading upstairs to talk with your wife. 

You planned how you’d wake her up and if you’d be sitting on the bed beside her hip or if you’d be standing. You planned whether you’d shake her gently or just place a hand on her shoulder through the blankets. 

You were in the midst of planning exactly what to say before your eyes caught onto a light casted onto the floor on top of the stairs from the guest room which you very clearly remembered closing before you left. 

Then delicate muffled noises and the subtle sounds of rustling sheets travelled out of the room, and you stepped forward carefully. 

Pushing the door open slightly and allowing more light to flood the hallway, you looked into the room and saw a mess of dark orange hair stretched out along the pillows of the guest room’s bed, along with a familiar figure mumbling out your name with a pillow held to her chest. Her knees were lifted up close to her stomach and your blankets were wrapped around her body messily.

Wanda was still in her pajamas, her hand tucked between her thighs and her body squirming as she pleasured herself to the scent of you on the bed you’d been sleeping on for the last little while, calling out your name with her lips pressed against the pillow. 

Her thighs pressed together and her fingers tightened their grips around the pillow, her breathy moans turning into soft whimpers while her back began to arch and she started to near her orgasm.

Before she could finally reach her peak, you approached the bed and pulled the blanket down from her body, tearing her from whatever fantasy was playing in her mind. She quickly readjusted herself and removed her hands from her body as if she were on fire then turned onto her back to look up at you, her cheeks flushing a humiliated shade of pink.

She moved to sit up with shaky hands and she let go of your pillow.

“I…” She cleared her throat and looked away as she stuttered. “I didn’t… know you w-were home.”

You tipped your head to the side a little, surveying her embarrassed expression and attempts to look up at you to read what you might be thinking. It seemed that Wanda had just as much of a hard time these past few weeks trying to figure out what you might be feeling, and felt she may have crossed a severe line getting caught masturbating in your bed when perhaps she should’ve been keeping her distance.

Reaching down, you cupped your wife’s cheek and stroked your thumb against the corner of her lips softly. “You don’t have to stop because of me, honey,” you whispered. “Why don’t you catch me up on what I’ve missed?”

Wanda hesitated as she explored your expression and when you met her eyes, she saw for the first time in what felt like centuries what you might be feeling. Then she laid back down and you sat beside her shoulder, watching as she tucked her hand back under the waistband of her shorts and between her thighs. She moved herself to the side slightly and rested her head against your hip.

You placed a hand atop her head and rubbed your fingers against her scalp soothingly.

She pushed two fingers past her opening and whimpered, her hips raising slightly from the bed at the overwhelming intrusion before her fingers found a gentle pace. She buried her face into your hip although you could still see her way her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parted as she moaned.

Your free hand reached down and began unbuttoning Wanda’s pajama top, slowly exposing her breasts and nipples that stiffened when the lapels of the blouse slipped down her chest and brushed against the blush-pink peaks. 

Wanda’s head turned to watch the way you cupped one of her breasts gently and brushed your thumb across her sensitive nipple. Your wife always had rather sensitive breasts, and would thoroughly enjoy the time you took teasing at them, running delicate waves of pleasure through her body, showing her how well you knew how to treat her.

Her nipple was taken between your thumb and forefinger and you pinched at it, running the pressure up to its very tip and releasing before doing the same to the other. 

Filled with gradually heightening arousal, Wanda’s fingers began speeding up and she experimented by brushing her thumb against the hood of her clit, eliciting a gentle jerk of her hips and the catching of her breath in her throat.

You leaned down and kissed Wanda’s neck, causing her to tip her head to the side and allow you more space to trail your kisses, bringing shivers up her arms at the feeling of your soft lips against her skin. Your tongue darted out and ran up to her jaw where you then pecked her cheek before moving back down to her breasts.

With two hands, you groped both your wife’s breasts and brought them together, allowing you to kiss up each of them. The pads of your thumbs rubbed against her nipples and you then wrapped your lips around one of them, looking up at meeting Wanda’s eyes to convey your purposeful intent behind each of her pleasured whimpers.

She struggled to maintain eye contact with you and you released her nipple to look down between her thighs. Even her fingers began to stagger as she began to quickly pick up from where she left off before you came into the room. 

“I want you to…” Wanda whispered hesitantly and reached her hand behind your head, fingers playing with your hair as if to help you understand what she was saying. “Please.”

On any other day, you might’ve had her beg more explicitly, not sparing her any mercy in having her abandon her modesty as she pleaded for you to finger her pussy. But you wanted her as desperately as she wanted you; it’d been so long since you’d touched your wife like this and making her wait would only bring you torment.

And the sound of her wet cunt only made it harder to deny her request.

You needed to feel her.

A bit hastily, you pulled her shorts down along with her underwear and moved her hand out of the way. She was quick to oblige and wrapped her arms around your neck, but not before bringing her glistening fingers to your lips and allowing you to lick her flavour from them, which you did with unabashed enthusiasm.

The pads of three fingers circled against Wanda’s opening and you used your other hand to continue groping at Wanda’s breast and tugging at her nipple while you bit gently at her other. You teasingly rounded her stiffened nipple with your kisses, the tip of your nose brushing against it torturously. 

She wasn’t far from orgasm, and you were much too desperate to see her come for you to prolong her release, so you swiftly entered three fingers into her which she accepted gratefully in the way she squeezed around you and tightened her arms around your neck.

“I’m so proud of you, Wanda, taking three fingers just like that,” you told her, taking one of her nipples between your teeth and tugging at it gently. She squirmed in response and made an attempt to reply verbally but found she could only whimper.

You kissed her nipple that was slightly sore from the teasing then ran your tongue up against it. You moved up her body and kissed her temple, your fingers quickly picking up speed as your desire to make your wife come overtook you.

You moved to lay beside her, cradling her head against your chest and kissing her forehead. “You’re such an obedient girl, baby,” you muttered against her skin. Your fingers ran through her soft hair and Wanda buried her face in your chest, seemingly happily soaking up your praise. 

From the angle you were looking down at her from, you could see with full visibility her long soft legs and perfect breasts, the gentle slopes of her body and the delicate fluttering of her chest as her breath began to quicken and catch in her throat.

“You look so pretty,” you said, caressing her cheek as she tucked her head between your chest and your supportive arm that held her up comfortably. “My beautiful wife… I’m so lucky to be able to love you, Wanda.”

Wanda lifted her head from your chest and looked up at you, uttering out a soft, “I love you, Y/N.”

With a sincere gentle smile that made Wanda’s chest flutter with warm thrill, you leaned down and kissed her lips, and whispered out an ‘I love you too’ against them, sealing the beloved words within your act of affection.

Carefully, you curled your fingers inside Wanda and found the place of pleasure within her soft walls and she reburied her face in your chest and let out a muffled cry as you pressed down against it, your thumb beginning to rub circles against her clit.

“Why don’t you come for me, my sweet girl?” you encouraged into Wanda’s hair, kissing the top of her head and pulling your fingers in and out of her with long swift thrusts, each time brushing the tips of your fingers against her most sensitive point and your thumb never ceasing its circling against Wanda’s swollen clit.

“Show me how well-behaved you are and come on my fingers, honey,” you whispered.

You felt hints of Wanda attempting to nod before her body tensed and a prolonged ragged cry was pulled out of her. Her arms loosened from around your neck and she instead hugged you around the waist, pulling herself against you for support as she came. She cried out against your chest, calling out your name as she had been before, but this time unrestrained and thoroughly proud of getting off to you.

“That’s a good girl,” you said in a hushed tone when your wife’s cries settled into breathless pants, her grip around your waist loosening slightly though she was still hugging herself around you. “You did so good…”

Wanda muttered something into your chest and though you couldn’t hear it very well, you could see her flushed cheeks and the way she buried her face against you and that was enough to understand what she had meant.

You regarded her with a proud smile and slipped your fingers out of her soaking cunt then licked her from your fingers. Then you slipped down beside her so you were face-to-face with her and cupped her face with two hands before kissing her.

The kiss was every apology you felt you should’ve said days before today, every feeling of desperation for Wanda’s company previously hidden because of your cowardly grip on your pride and all the nights missing sleeping beside her. Then you pulled her into a hug, your arms securely wrapped around her shoulders as she continued to hug you back around the waist.

“Tommy and Billy love you so much,” Wanda uttered into your shoulder. “Even I sometimes feel they love their father more than me, but I know they love me just the same. I just think boys just get to an age where they seem more affixed to their fathers. They’ll swing back; you know they’re always thrilled to be home with us.”

“I feel terrible being so… possessive of them, and to feel so insecure about my parenting,” you finally confessed. You didn’t have to say any more for Wanda to understand that you were struggling with your place as the twins’ stepparent, and you had felt clumsy in your footing trying to figure out what your role was between two of their biological parents.

Wanda pulled away and met your eyes, pressing your foreheads together. In the sincerity of her gaze, you saw how much she appreciated the way you treated her sons. “I think it’s sweet,” she said. “They know how much you love them. I think you’re doing a perfect job as one of their parents. They adore you.”

Suddenly feeling guilty for how quick Wanda was to comfort you, you finally spoke up about what you’d been wanting to talk about for the last while. 

Without putting too much thought into planning or overthinking it, you just said, “You take on so much in our marriage, Wanda. You’re so devoted and loving and sometimes I just… get self-absorbed. I just forget sometimes that you’re not the only one in our relationship. I’ll try harder. You deserve that and so much more. I’m so sorry for how I’ve been neglecting you and how difficult it was for me to just apologise for not treating you with the love you deserve.”

You didn’t think Wanda began to tear up because the discussion was upsetting, but simply because it’d just been so long since she last had any sort of affectionate contact with you, and hearing you talk to her about how much you loved her made her feel so full of emotion that it brought her to tears. 

She really was a rather sensitive person.

You loved that about her. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for being so controlling and… otherwise possessive with you.”

“Baby, I’d be lost if you weren’t so possessive over me,” you laughed and kissed her forehead. Wanda laid her head on your chest and you moved onto your back so she could lay atop of you. “You’re not controlling. Don’t apologise for wanting what you deserve. I haven’t been giving that to you. I’m sorry.”

Holding herself up with her arms on your chest, Wanda raised her head and looked down at you. “How about if… there are days where you can’t come home before dinner, then I’ll come visit you?” she suggested. 

You were filled with so much joy at her offer. She really did love you so much, trying her best to find ways to be with you even through the most difficult situations. Some days you felt you truly didn’t deserve her. But you’d prove to her that at the very least, you’d treat her as she deserved, that you’d show her how much you really did love her — and it was a whole lot.

“I’d really like that, Wanda,” you replied and kissed her lips. You turned around so Wanda slipped from your body and was on her back, looking up at you as you covered her face in soft kisses. “But I promise there won’t be as many days like that as there used to be.” 

Wanda exhaled when you laid down beside her, pulling her against you so you were curled up against her body again. “But parenting and marriage can truly be taxing,” she confessed. “I hate arguing with you.”

“There is no one I’d rather argue about ex-husbands and work hours with than you though, honey,” you said lightheartedly before leaning down and kissing the tip of her nose, which made Wanda scrunch it up with a tiny grin.

“Especially when it ends with you making me come with your fingers,” she teased and smirked against your cheek.

“No,” you said with a definite shake of your head. “We can’t forget about that, can we?”

With a humoured grin, Wanda replied, “No — certainly not.”

You jested, “Mm. Maybe next time I’ll fuck you over the kitchen counter while you make lunch.”

Wanda hummed as if contemplating something. Then she asked, “Do you happen to be hungry for lunch right now?” She looked up at you and blinked innocently.

The implication made you smirk and you looked away to hide the way she made you flush with the simplest of words. “I do happen to be hungry for lunch,” you replied.

Taking her bottom lip between her teeth, Wanda raised herself up and straddled your hips so you couldn’t look away from her, taking your embarrassed state as an opportunity to tease you. “Would you like to come downstairs and… help me make lunch, Y/N?” she asked, leaning down to brush the tip of her nose against yours.

You cleared your throat and rubbed at your cheek to partially hide the grin on your lips. “I’d just have to go upstairs and get something before I go down and help.”

“Okay,” Wanda said in a sing-song voice then slipped off of your hips to stand beside the bed. She buttoned up her pajama blouse halfway so you could still see her tits when she leaned down and kissed your forehead. “I’ll see you down there, then.”

She left you with a teasing grin, leaving the bedroom in nothing but her top that only just barely covered her ass, her shorts and panties still discarded on the bed beside you.

You waited until Wanda was down in the kitchen so you could eagerly head upstairs to retrieve the strap without having your wife hear how quickly you went up to the bedroom. 

If it wasn’t clear enough, you’d completely folded your life into Wanda’s. The only time you weren’t together was at work, and even then you found excuses to bump into each other. You’d drop off papers to be shredded, she’d pick up your print job and deliver it right to your cubicle, then of course, your lunch break together.

The office hummed with its usual gossip. People watched you both like hawks and whispered into sleeves. You ignored them, focusing on your work and the girl you were head over heels for. Plus, the party of the year was coming up.

Halloween at the magazine was ridiculous in the best way. You’d gone as a magician. Top hat, tailcoat, the whole performative bit. Wanda was a Sokovian fortune teller, all jewel toned spandex and tights that clung to her in the most criminally flattering way. Erik had turned the cafeteria into an almost otherworldly party space. Purple LEDs, a buffet wall that made your head spin, live music, and a selection of European wines and vodkas that you couldn’t even pronounce. Talk about boosting employee morale.

At one point Wanda got up to fetch drinks, leaving you at a standing table with a plate of baked ziti. Two coworkers slid in beside you, leaning on the table with those tipsy, predatory grins.

“Hey! We’ve got a question for you,” Raven said, hiccup laughing, one hand already on your shoulder.

You raised a brow. “Okay...? Shoot.”

She dipped in close, her breath warm against your ear. “Is Erik paying you to hang out with his weirdo kid? I mean, come on… I’ve been here for years and she’s scared off everyone she’s ever looked at. She’s got those crazy eyes, ya know?”

Your jaw tightened. “First, she’s not a kid. She’s an adult. And second, no. I hang out with her because I like her. She’s been nothing but kind to me.” You let the last part hang, cold as ceramic.

Raven snorted. “Mm. I don’t buy it. I’d have dipped after getting the September feature. Or is she making her daddy buy you like a prized horse? Ooooh, does she make you fuck her every night too? I heard you even live together now so—”

“That’s enough.” You slapped her hand off in one motion. “Wanda’s the sweetest, most thoughtful person I know. She works hard. And I don’t appreciate how any of you treat her. She just wants to be included. Is that so fucking difficult? I’ve never used Wanda to get to Erik, but you’re making it really hard not to. Because I could make it my business to ensure that you and everyone else regret treating his family like this. Say one more nasty thing about her and I will happily see to it.”

For a heartbeat everything went quiet. The chatter, the music, the clinking of glass. Then you saw Wanda. She was standing at the end of the row, hands shaking, two plastic cups clutched so tight they crumpled. Tears welled in her eyes, and without even dropping a word she let the cups slip from her grip and ran.

Panic slammed through your chest. You glared at Raven and her tag along, then bolted through the crowd and out of the cafeteria, calling Wanda’s name as you barreled down the corridor. No answer. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You took the elevator up to the office floors, heart hammering, the party noise fading behind you as you searched. You found her trembling, breath rapid, bent over her desk with her back to you.

“Wanda, hey…” you said softly, closing the distance. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that shit. We don’t have to listen to those people. They don’t know us.”

You set a hand on her hip and gently turned her toward you.

She looked down for a second, fingers tightening on your tie like it was the only thing keeping her anchored. “Nobody’s ever defended me like that…” Her voice dissolved into a high, uncontrollable giggle. Tears happily streaked her cheeks, and beneath them a manic grin spread. Joy and hunger braided together. “You’re so fucking perfect. I’m so— oh my god…” she practically moaned.

“Wanda, baby… I’ll always defend you. You mean everything to me,” you breathed, cupping her cheek. Your heart hitched at the sight of her. Elated, needy, ravenous. And before you could think it through, you closed the space between you.

Her surprise cracked into urgency. She grabbed you, clawing at the back of your coat as if she’d never let go. The kiss was feral, her tongue demanding, searching, she bit your lip hard enough to make you taste blood.

You stumbled back, breathless and dazzled. “Fuck…” you panted, holding her to you like you were afraid she might vanish.

“All my hard work is finally paying off…” she murmured into your shoulder, so small you almost missed it.

When the air evened, the words you’d been chewing on spilled out, raw and unavoidable. “Wanda, I love you. I’m tired of pretending I don’t. I’ve been so scared of losing you. I still am. You’re everything to me, and I would never—” You swallowed. “I don’t care if it’s an HR nightmare or if your dad fires me. I just want you.”

Her eyes exploded with light, tears wet her lashes. “Oh my god, please. I love you so much. I’ve loved you since you gave me that handkerchief. Everything I am is yours. Take me. Please, Detka…”

You laughed, half crying, half cursing, stunned by the clarity of it all. You lifted her, legs wrapping around your waist, and set her on the edge of the desk. Your mouths collided again, hungry and desperate. Her thighs hooked at your hips, clothing creaked as you ground her hard against you.

She moaned deep when you gripped her hips, pulling her impossibly close as she rutted against your stomach. At first, you thought it was just desperation, her body begging for more friction, but then you felt her freeze for half a second, her lips parting in a silent gasp before they trembled against yours.

Her jaw dropped as the gasp turned into a ragged cry. Her nails scraped down your back, desperate for something to hold onto as her entire body jolted.

Her thighs clamped around you like a vice, trembling violently as the heat between you grew damper, hotter, overwhelming.

“Ah— oh god—” she choked, face twisted in helpless pleasure. You’d barely touched her, yet she was unraveling, her voice breaking into frantic, high-pitched whimpers. Her legs shook around your waist, spasms rippling through her body as if every nerve had been waiting for this exact second.

You froze, stunned, just holding her through it. All you could do was keep your arms locked around her, grounding her as her body shuddered again and again.

“That’s it, baby, I’ve got you,” you whispered, pressing kisses against her hairline even as your heart hammered from the sheer intensity of watching her fall apart.

Her moans ebbed into desperate little mewls, each softer than the last, until she finally sagged against you, boneless and trembling, her chest heaving.

Holy shit. She just came untouched.

“Wanda… did you just—” your voice cracked, disbelief dripping from every syllable.

Her face burned red as she buried herself into your neck, words muffled and broken. “I’m sorry… I-I didn’t mean to… I’m just so turned on… I couldn’t stop it…”

You tugged her hair gently, forcing her dazed eyes to meet yours. You leaned in close, smiling against her lips.

“That was so fucking hot… don’t you dare apologize for that.”

You kissed her, softer this time, though your hands betrayed the tenderness, roaming, groping, squeezing her body until she whined into your mouth. Each desperate little sound spurred you on.

Your lips trailed lower, down the column of her throat, sucking bruises into her skin, claiming her inch by inch. When your hand slid between her thighs and tugged the crotch of her bodysuit aside, you growled in frustration at the leggings still blocking you.

The sharp rip echoed in the air as you tore through them. Wanda gasped, arching against you when your fingers finally slipped through, gliding against her slick folds.

You both moaned at the contact.

“Fuck, baby…” your voice broke with awe. “Is this all for me? You’re dripping…”

Her mouth hung open, panting, eyes glassy with need. You tugged her costume lower until her breasts spilled free, flushed and perfect, and latched onto one aching nipple. You sucked greedily, tonguing her like you were trying to drink her down, while her fingers tangled in your hair, dragging you closer.

“Yes— ahh, yes baby, it’s all for you,” she cried, writhing against your hand. “My pussy is yours, please—”

But then you pulled your fingers away. She whined at the loss, only to watch your lips wrap around them. You moaned shamelessly at the taste, eyes fluttering shut as your tongue savored her slick.

“Fuck,” you groaned, nearly shaking from restraint. “Fuck, you taste so good. I need to eat your pussy right now.”

She didn’t even have time to reply before you dropped to your knees, dragging her toward the edge of the desk. Your teeth grazed her inner thigh, nipping and tearing at what fabric remained, shredding it away until nothing kept you from her.

You didn’t even bother teasing, your hunger was too sharp. She squealed when you buried your mouth against her soaked cunt, the high sound breaking off into a sob as your tongue dragged through her folds. You groaned into her, shameless and guttural, like the taste of her was something you’d craved your whole life.

Her hips twitched helplessly under your grip, thighs trembling against your ears. Wanda’s nimble fingers tangled in your hair, clutching tight like you were her anchor in a storm. Her head tipped back, a strangled moan escaping that made your spine buzz.

The office floor was silent but for you two, amplifying every obscene sound. Your mouth worked greedily, tongue sliding and lips sucking, the wet noises bouncing off the walls like a filthy soundtrack to her unraveling.

And then her voice, breaking and desperate, spilling over the slick chorus.

“Fuck— fuck, baby— oh my god, you’re so fucking good—” she panted, the words cracked by gasps and mewls. “Oh, this is better than I’ve ever dreamed— fuck, I’m not gonna last—”

You shoved deeper, tongue thrusting inside her, nose rubbing tight circles over her clit. She yelped, a sharp, needy cry that turned into a broken whimper. Her thighs clamped around your head, body jolting as her stomach tightened and then—

It hit her all at once. Her release tore through her, a loud cry ripping from her chest as she squirted hard against your mouth. The wet gush splattered across your face, your chin, dripping down onto the desk. You groaned in delight, sucking and swallowing what you could, the sound of it wet and messy as hell. You eased her down with gentle kitten licks, savoring the aftershocks as her moans tapered into small, shaky cries. 

Wanda whimpered again, then yanked you up by the hair, crashing your lips together in a needy kiss. You let her devour your mouth, all tongue and desperation, while your hand slid between her legs.

Your fingers slipped inside with ease, the lewd squelch loud in the quiet office as you pumped slowly, deliberately, mapping every velvet curve of her pussy while her whines and gasps vibrated against your lips.

But the heated moment ended when you heard hollering and whistling behind you.

You jumped apart, looking over your shoulder to see your coworkers, Josh and Aiden. The floor was supposed to be empty, everyone else was still at the party three levels down, but somehow, these two had wandered up here drunk.

“Shit…” you muttered, ripping off your coat to wrap around Wanda’s exposed body.

“Ooooh, don’t stop on our account!” Josh slurred, stumbling closer with Aiden snickering behind him. They reeked of alcohol, voices too loud in the otherwise silent office.

“I have to say… everyone suspected you were giving special favors at work,” Aiden sneered, eyeing Wanda up and down. “Glad to know it’s confirmed.”

You stepped in front of her protectively. “It’s not like that. Now if you’ll excuse us, we’d like to leave.”

They laughed, shoving you aside. You fell, your head smacking against the table leg, vision blurring as Wanda gasped behind you.

“Don’t be selfish,” Josh cackled, leering at Wanda.

“Yeah, I’ve been dying for a raise,” Aiden hummed, leaning in too close.

The sharp crack of Wanda’s hand split the room as she slapped him hard enough to stagger him back into his friend. “Don’t come near me, pervert,” she spat, her accent slipping through.

Your vision sharpened instantly at the sight of them cornering her.

“You fucking slut,” Aiden hissed, clutching his cheek. “You can’t just pick and choose favorites—”

Something inside you snapped. You didn’t remember grabbing them, but suddenly a pair of scissors was in your hand. And before you could even think, you lunged, driving them into Aiden’s back.

Wanda’s jaw dropped, but then she smiled. Wide and dreamy. “Holy shit…” she breathed like it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

Josh’s face drained of color. “Holy shit…” he echoed, stumbling backward.

You stood over Aiden, chest heaving, blood soaking your hands. But you didn’t stop there. You straddled him, plunging the scissors again and again until his body went limp and the carpet was ruined beneath you.

Behind you, Wanda’s voice broke through, trembling but breathless, “Yes… yes, don’t stop… oh my god…”

Each wet, meaty thud seemed to pull a gasp from her. You could hear her panting softly, like she couldn’t catch her breath, like this was making her dizzy in the best way.

Then your gaze snapped up to Josh. His horror sobered him instantly. He scrambled backward, trying to crawl away, babbling pleas you didn’t even register.

You dropped the scissors with a clatter, picking up the nearest heavy object, a three ring hole puncher. With a low growl, you advanced.

“No— no, please—” Josh stammered, voice breaking.

“Do it,” Wanda whispered behind you, her voice husky, hungry. “Finish it.”

You swung. The sharp crack echoed through the empty office, followed by another, and another. Grunting between each swing as you bashed his skull into oblivion.

“Yes… fuck yes…” Wanda’s words trembled in time with the impacts.

When you finally stopped, both men were still. The office was quiet again, eerily so, as if the building itself hadn’t noticed what just happened. 

You shuddered, turning to Wanda as you dropped the hole puncher with a heavy clank. The sound echoed through the empty floor, final and heavy. Blood stained your once-white shirt, spattered across your hands and face.

“I… I don’t know what came over me, Wanda. I just— fuck… what just happened… what did I do…” Your voice cracked, ragged with adrenaline.

Wanda scrambled toward you, her grin wide, almost feral. “You killed them for me…” she breathed, like it was the most intoxicating gift she’d ever received.

You reached for the tissues, pulling one after another, trying to scrub the red away. Each sheet came back soaked, useless, dropping in a bloody pile at your feet. 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry you had to see that. I’ve never—” you shook your head, trembling, “I was just so angry… I finally have you, and I— I didn’t want them touching what’s mine… please— please don’t leave me I don’t— I won’t hurt you—”

Her hands shot up to your face, fingers curling in your blood-matted hair as she made you look at her. Her eyes sparkled, dark and hungry, like you were the most beautiful thing in the world. “I never thought I could love you more…” she panted, lips parting, a bitten off moan caught in her throat before she crashed her mouth against yours.

You groaned, kissing her back desperately, smearing blood between you. “I fucking love you… so fucking much… I never wanna love anyone else… only you…” you rasped between breaths, frantic, like you needed her tether just to keep from unraveling. Then you pulled away, panic washing over you again. 

“I… we need to go… we need to do something about—”

“Daddy will take care of the mess,” she cut you off, her tone low but sure, almost soothing. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The next moments passed in a strange, muffled quiet. Wanda made the call first, her voice steady, efficient, while you just stood there staring at your bloodstained hands. You didn’t even question it when her father began arranging a cleanup crew without the faintest hint of surprise.

Then she moved to you. She peeled off your ruined shirt with steady fingers, her touch soft. The sting of chemical wipes pressed against your skin as she scrubbed away the blood. Methodical, precise, like she’d done this before. From her desk, she pulled a spare set of clothes for the both of you, folded and ready. Maybe she’d stashed them away for coffee spills, maybe for ink stains. Certainly not for this.

You let her handle everything, silent and pliant. Wanda was composed, focused, while your mind buzzed in static. You couldn’t fathom how she was this poised, this calm, right now. Your guardian angel. She should add it to her resume: flawless crisis management.

The cleanup wasn’t perfect. The stickiness still clung to your skin. Your hair reeked faintly of iron. You needed a shower, you needed to think. Wanda cradled your face, gently patting away the last of the blood. When she was finished, she leaned in, kissed you soft and sure, as if the world (and Josh’s skull) hadn’t just cracked open.

“It’s okay,” she whispered against your lips, her thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek. Your shoulders eased in an instant. Electricity flowing through you that was just buzzing her name. Wanda Wanda Wanda. 

She smiled at you. And you smiled back. Because you trusted her. And if Wanda said it was okay, then it was.

Your fingers interlaced, her hand tugging you along, pulling you out into the cool night.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Instead of walking, Wanda had arranged for one of her father’s drivers to bring you home. The ride was silent, save for the hum of the engine. But in the backseat, silence didn’t exist the moment she straddled you. Filling the quiet with each other, every breath, every frantic press of lips, every desperate clutch.

You couldn’t stop. Neither of you could. Every time you pulled back, gasping for air, her hands dragged you close again. And when she paused, you chased her mouth like you’d die if you didn’t have it. It wasn’t lust, it was need. A fever running under your skin.

There was no groping, no fumbling for more. Just your hands cupping her face like you could mold her into your palms, and her arms locked around you so tight it was like she wanted to fuse your bodies together. You kissed her again and again until your lips stung, until your jaw ached, and still it wasn’t enough.

It didn’t feel like kissing anymore. It felt like praying. Worshipping. Proving to yourselves, over and over, that the other was real, still there, still yours.

Neither of you spoke. There was nothing left to say. The silence between you was louder than words. A vow, a pact, an obsession so consuming that it bordered on holy.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Once you arrived at the building, things only escalated on your account. Wanda fumbled with the elevator key, letting out a surprised chuckle as you hugged her from behind, leaning down to press hot kisses to her neck. Sucking, licking, biting. Each touch like you poured vodka on her flaming heart. 

You couldn’t keep your hands off her in the lift either, hoisting her into your arms, pressing her back against the cool mirror, grinding your hips between her legs.

“You’re so fucking pretty…” you muttered hungrily against her neck, “I’ll never let anyone lay a damn finger on you, angel.”

Wanda’s head fell back with a thud. Utterly overwhelmed by the attention you were giving her. God… she knew she needed you. And knew that she wanted you to need her back. But this? Absolutely nothing could’ve prepared her. And she wouldn’t want it any other way. 

You cupped her sex with deliberate pressure, coaxing a pathetic whine from her throat. “D-detka— fuck… I— we should get inside first… at least—“

The elevator dinged open, cutting off her rugged speech. You wasted no time. She yelped as you whisked her off her feet, rushing inside, hastily setting her on the kitchen counter. 

Practically ripping her clothes off, your mouth traveled down her torso, lips sucking lightly on her tits, tongue teasing her hard nipples as you switched back and forth. She whimpered at the tingling sensation, groaning louder when your hand slipped under her panties, digits sliding gently between her wet folds. 

“Shit… fuck— baby, that feels so good… oh my god— y-you’re so perfect,” she breathed, mind hazy as she clutched your hair,  tugging you closer to her chest. You played with her a moment longer before pulling away, causing her to let out a needy little whine. 

You chuckled, leaning up to kiss that adorable pout away before pushing her back on the cold marble, climbing up to place your head between her legs. “Trust me sweet girl, you’ll enjoy this a lot more…” you hummed, kissing her thighs. 

You dove in, tongue working hungrily against her clit, damn near growling at the taste as your nails dug into her thighs. Wanda writhed beneath you, gripping your head, attempting to attach your mouth to her pussy entirely. Only your wet slurps and her cries echoed in the kitchen…

Until the buzz of her phone cut through the heat. 

She gasped, attempting to shove your head away, but your hold stayed strong as you continued feasting on her pussy like it was your last meal. 

“F-fuck— detka— ah—! Oh my god— it’s my dad— shit— I sh-should answer,” she staggered between moans, chuckling breathlessly at your eagerness. 

You reluctantly pulled back, licking her juices from your lips. “Answer it, baby… don’t worry about me.” 

She rolled her eyes playfully, catching her breath before she picked up the phone.

“Papa! Hey, we got back a bit ago, just freshening up for the night after… everything,” she spoke casually, softly running her fingers through your hair.

They eventually switched to Sokovian. Seemingly, Erik was just updating her on the clean up crew situation while she explained in detail about how everything went down. 

Somewhere in the middle of it all, you leaned back down, slowly dragging your tongue along her pussy. She shuddered, biting her lip as she tried to remain composed. But she didn’t push you away…

Instead, she laid back, draping her legs over your shoulder to pull you closer by her heel. Humming blissfully and grinding on your face as she barely paid attention to the conversation. 

“Mhmm… yea she’s so good to me. So sweet,” she sighed dreamily, biting back a moan. Your heart fluttered at the praise, urging you to pick up the pace. 

Her grip tightened, trying her absolute best to seem unfazed, but her body told an entirely different story. Her jaw slack, head tipped back. Squirming, arching into your electric touch, sending shivers up her spine. Voice shaking with every word while her eyes squeezed shut.

“Mhmm! I— um— yeah, she’s in the other room! Let me grab her real quick,” she stammered, immediately muting her phone and slamming it down on the counter. 

“Fuck— oh, fuck baby I’m gonna come— p-please don’t stop— y-yes! Oh fuck yes!” She cried out, thighs trembling around your head. Rolling her hips against your tongue with no rhythm. Pleasure shooting through every vein in her system.

You groaned against her, directing vibrations throughout her body until she couldn’t take it anymore, eventually pulling you up, capturing your tongue in a deep, hungry kiss. 

“Shit… fuck— my dad wants to talk to you. Is that okay?” Her breaths ragged against your lips. 

Your lips found hers softly, just a peck. Then you grinned. “Of course, angel. As long as you can keep quiet.”

She tilted her head, unable to question anything before you took the phone off mute, putting it on speaker instead. 

“Hello, Mr. Lensherr! Wanda said you wanted to speak with me?” you said in your most professional corporate voice. But your hands roamed unprofessionally…

You hovered over Wanda’s body, covering her mouth, while your other hand slid between her legs, fingers teasing at her entrance. 

“You can call me Erik now… Wanda told me what happened. How you defended her. Took a life for her.” He shared, tone hard to read.

Your breath hitched, processing the words as your fingers pressed inside her. Two to start. 

“I did, yes. I’ve never… done that before. But I’d do anything for your daughter, Sir. I would never hurt her. Only those who stand against her.” You picked your words carefully, picking up the pace along with them. You stayed calm, fingers thrusting, curling expertly inside her, pressing right up against that sweet spot that drives her crazy. 

Wanda’s eyes were blown. Full of love, lust, adoration, and need. Ears perked on your every word. She could come just from the way you talked about her. 

“I’m not calling to scold you. I’d like to say that I’m proud of you… for having the guts to do what’s necessary. I’m happy that she has you. Happy that she loves you,” a beat passed, his voice dropping low. “Are you in love with my daughter?”

Why the fuck kind of question is that? Of fucking course... 

You stared down, directly into her sparkling green eyes. Those sweet, pleading, princess eyes. Wrist beginning to ache, but you persevered. Your gazes remained locked as you spoke your next words.

“Your daughter means everything to me. I wanted to wait… to make sure she knows I’m here for her, not the rewards. But I couldn’t resist her long enough. In the time I’ve known her, I’ve fallen so hard I can’t bear a life without her” you confessed. “So, yes. I’m in love with her. More than anyone or anything that’s ever been in my life.”

Erik paused, taking in your words. Meanwhile, Wanda reached up, clawing at your back and pulling you close, her whimpers muffled by your hand. Needy girl. You insert a third finger.

“Very well. It’s good to know that she’s finally met her match. You will take care of her,” he ordered simply. 

You grinned, watching Wanda’s wrecked state. “Of course, Erik. I’ll make sure she never goes a second without feeling 100% of my adoration.”

He hummed approvingly, then finally ended the call. 

You wasted no time freeing her moans and crashing your lips into hers. She returned the motion with equal desperation. Shamelessly crying into your mouth as her hips moved in tandem with your thrusts. Every curl of your fingers igniting a flame within her lower stomach. 

“Yes—! Fuck, baby— you’re so fucking good with your hands, I— fuck… I fucking love you so much. Mine— You’re mine,” she whimpered, writhing beneath you as your thumb circled her clit. 

Your other hand cupped her pretty face, and you smiled watching her melt into your touch. “I’m yours forever. Come for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

Wanda nodded shakily, unable to form words just yet. One last press against that sweet spot undid her entirely. She clung to you as pleasure jolted through her body, her moans sweet on your ears like they could be mistaken for a hymn.

You held her through it, kissing her neck, shoulder, cheek. Whispering praise as she came for the third (or fourth?) time of the night. And you were nowhere near done with her. When she finally came down, you helped her sit up, rubbing her back and kissing her softly while she recovered. Cradling her jaw, your tongue slid against hers, tilting your head as you practically devoured one another.

“Mm… you’re so good at… everything… my god…” Wanda mumbled against your lips, her hand pressed against your chest to halt your movements. “We have to shower soon, there’s still blood in your hair.”

You whined, agreeing anyway. Then allowed her to lead you to the bathroom. 

Clothes came off in a blur (mainly yours, since she was mostly naked). Her soft hands drifted in easy motions. Washing your body with an almost maternal touch. God, she’d be a great mother.

And while she let the shampoo bubble in your hair, she scrubbed thoroughly, nails dragging along your scalp in a soothing motion. She looked up at you as if you were her most precious gift. More sacred than anything money could buy.

Once the last bit was rinsed from your hair, it was her turn. She insisted that you didn’t have to, but you needed to. Every bone in your body urged you to take care of her. And she didn’t know how to handle it.

She’s always been used to doing everything for the people she loved. Always used to cooking, cleaning, running errands, working for affection, only to be shut out. Loving so hard, unrequited, driving her to the point where she’d eventually need to remove them from the equation when they wouldn’t give her what she needed. 

She leaned into your hold, shuddering at every graze of your hands over her body. And when you groped her ass, pulling her close for a rough, depraved kiss, she whimpered pathetically. You smirked against her mouth.

“Can you handle more tonight, angel?” you whispered, bringing your hand around to her front, fingers ghosting over her clit once again. Your other hand came up, gripping her throat, not tight yet.

If it weren’t for the sound of water trickling on your bodies, she could almost hear her heart hammering in her chest. Pliant in your arms, she looked up at you, nodding and batting her pretty eyelashes in that way that makes you fall harder everyday.

“Mhmm. I’ll take everything you give me. I’m yours… more than you’ll ever know. God— you can fuck me till I pass out and still keep using me, I— I just wanna be yours…” she babbled breathlessly, surrender laced between each word.

You chuckled, watching her fall apart in your possessive grasp. “You’re my only girl. You’ll never have to worry about other women. And I…” you grumbled against her mouth, shoving three fingers inside her, beginning a brutal pace as your grip tightened on her throat, “...am never gonna worry about anyone either. I’ll fucking kill anyone who thinks they can take you from me… you’re my angel… nobody else’s.”

Her eyes rolled back into her head, clinging onto you, legs unyielding around your waist as you held her up. Her cries bounced off the cold, wet tiles. Every whine, moan, gasp, and groan amplified by the acoustics of the bathroom. You ambushed her neck, recklessly marking the soft skin.

“Yes— oh god, that’s so good— fuck— I’d kill for you too— I have—! I’ve killed so many for you—! And god, I’d do it again… I’d do anything… Everything I am is just for you—!” she sobbed, utterly wrecked by your fingers, only half conscious of what she’d just confessed.

Your breath hitched… Something inside you turned. Something between fear, arousal, and curiosity. Tilting your head, you grabbed her chin, forcing her to hold eye contact with you. “Yeah? Who… tell me everything, baby… I’ll still love you. Promise.”

She bit her lip, teary eyed as she shook her head no. So you scoffed, slowing your pace which caused her to whine in protest. “Wait— no, no, I—”

“Names. Tell me or I’ll stop,” you hummed, voice turning low and firm. “Don’t cry, baby… Even if you’re pretty like that… not like this.”

“I— fuck— the first was Illyana… I followed you… I broke in… I couldn’t—” she gasped when your momentum quickened. “Shit— I took out Ikarus, Kingo, Thena— everyone who spoke badly of you— your landlord… I wanted you with me— I needed you to be here— all the time…”

She kept going. 

A waitress who was apparently making fuck me eyes at you.

Some girl from accounting who liked your Instagram post.

The man who pickpocketed you on the subway.

Your ex who wouldn’t stop texting you (now you know why she stopped).

By the end, the shower was cold, but your bodies still hot. Her legs trembled around you, not allowing her to come until she told you everything. The ways she took them out.

How she caught Illyana on her morning run, but still went back to save her cats from having no owner (because she’s sweet like that). 

How Ikarus cried in terror as she poured the gasoline.

How Kingo was the one walking around drunk at night, so it was only a matter of time.

How Thena was just too busy staring at her phone at the intersection, all she needed was a little push.

And your least favorite… how your landlord fought back when he found her destroying the pipes. She wasn’t planning on killing him… just wanted to cause some irreversible water damage to ensure you needed to leave that godawful apartment.

But he grabbed the axe, overpowered her.

She told you how she had to do it because she needed to come home to you. And all you could think of? Your poor girl must’ve been so scared…

And when you finally said one word. Come. Her swollen cunt gushed like a broken dam. Body going limp in your arms from the edging, overstimulation, and the weight of everything lifted off her shoulders.

Her slim figure clung to you like an anxious koala, nails grounded on your back, head buried in your neck, and twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm. You turned the shower off, hands soothing her body as you stepped out. 

You placed her on the counter, drying both of you off. She stayed quiet, looking down when you dried and brushed her hair. When you were done, you set down the brush.

“There. Pretty girl’s all cleaned up,” you smiled, kissing the corner of her mouth.

But she only pouted, biting the inside of her cheek. Your brows furrowed, as you cupped her face, tipping her head up. “Hey… What’s wrong sweetheart?” You spoke softly.

She hesitated, biting her lip, “You’re not mad at me?”

You tilted your head, genuinely shocked that she would ever think so. I mean, yeah, all the killing was a bit much. But how could you be upset with her when it all led to this?

She wasn’t manipulating the situation, just… shaping your realities. And you couldn’t blame her for that. She grew up spoiled, so of course, she can’t help but get what she wants…

She’s still your sweet girl. Nothing’s changed, just… some extra information coming to light.

You chuckled, kissing that pout away from her soft lips, “I could never be upset with you, angel. Wouldn’t be fair if I was, considering how tonight went, right?”

Her eyes shined, holding all the love in the world as a heartfelt grin spread across her face, she slung her arms over your shoulders, pulling you close and brushing her nose against yours. “God… you’re even more perfect than I could ever imagine… I’m so fucking lucky.” she practically moaned.

A chaste kiss was shared between your lips before you sighed dreamily. “I’m the lucky one here… I just wish I knew where my strap was so I could use it on you… think I lost it in the move…”

Wanda opened her mouth, snapping it shut just as quickly, looking down shyly… You eyed her, knowing something was on her mind. “What’s wrong now, angel?”

A coy smile crept up her face, cheeks blushing. “I might’ve been using it… well— kind of? I, um— I found it while we moved you in and…” her throat dried at the memory. 

“The night you had that dumb hour long seminar on Zoom, I— I tried to use it, but it was just too big… I don’t think I can fit it in without your help so… I could only grind on it, pretending it was you, and— god, it was so good… I was trying to be quiet, then I squirted so hard on the bed... I had to change the sheets before you came back…” she confessed innocently, as if she just told you she secretly stole the last cookie in the jar.

“You, seriously…” you weren’t angry, but your eye twitched, mouth watering at the vision of her squirting on your cock without you. Heart hammering as you spoke, “Fucking hell, baby… I could’ve fucking helped you… Jesus, I was just… sitting in the other room while you—” you took a deep breath. “Show me where it is. I need to fuck you properly.” 

She nodded eagerly, heat pooling in her belly from your commanding tone. You followed right behind as she scrambled to the bedroom, digging through her side drawer and pulling out the strap and harness. She sat patiently on the bed while you tugged it on, buckling in easily. Her mouth hung open, damn near drooling as she looked up at the long, thick toy with hooded eyes.

Instead of pinning her to the bed, pushing her legs back, and fucking her in missionary like you’d imagined a million times, you urged her up, “Come here.” you grumbled, voice sharp.

You held her wrists behind her back, walking her across the room as she giggled like a damn brat, “Detka what are we— agh—!” She yelped, feeling her tits press against the cool window, the city lighting up the night sky. 

“You’re my perfect girl, you know that?” you gritted, moving her hair aside, mouth assaulting her sensitive neck. “Perfect girls should be shown off to the world… For everyone to see… Not to touch…”

She shuddered when you slid the toy between her folds, her hips grinding back into you like second nature. You tugged her hair, whispering in her ear, “I wanna show everyone what’s mine… that okay, angel? You want the whole city to see you get fucked stupid on my cock? The only cock you’ll ever have…”

“Yes! Please—! Please fuck me stupid with your cock— I need everyone to know who I belong to… I need you!” she begged, tears welling in her eyes from utter need.

“This’ll only hurt for a bit, okay? You’ll adjust… I’ll hold you through everything, my love,” you muttered, lips trailing the back of her neck, fingers ghosting over the smooth skin of her stomach. She gave you one last reassuring nod, spurring you on to continue. 

You lined the strap with her entrance, steadily pushing in. Oh… she was right… it would definitely be a tight fit…

She winced when you were hardly an inch in, “Shh, it’s okay baby… I’ve got you… We’ll get there… I’ll go slow for you, angel…” you cooed, kissing her temple.

She whined, a sound of pleasure and obedience, the faint reflection of her eyes in the window screaming for more. So you gave her exactly that. Deeper and deeper. Soothing her with belly rubs, kisses, words of praise. 

“Atta girl…”

“You can take it…”

“My sweet angel… it’s okay…”

And once you were buried to the hilt, you weren’t so gentle. But it started that way! Your smooth thrusts, pressing her closer to the glass, telling her how good she was being for you, trying to help her adjust. 

But it changed when she rutted her hips back against you, whining, “Fuck me harder! I need it— I need you to ruin me.” She squirmed, quite literally crying for more.

You were taken aback. Not offended, just surprised. She never acted like this with you. Needy and clingy were nothing new, and you knew she was spoiled too, but a spoiled brat in the bedroom? Oh, this is gonna be fun…

A hand crept up, wrapping around her neck, while the other made home on her waist, nails digging crescents into her skin. “Yeah?” you huffed playfully. “Let’s see if you can take it like you promised…”

The snap of your hips turned her head to static. She almost swore her ears were ringing when you began pounding relentlessly. A choppy rhythm. Slick ran down her thighs, wet slaps and broken cries echoing off the walls. 

“F-fuck… it’s so fucking big, oh my god— you’re gonna break me in half—!” tears slipped from her eyes, overwhelmed from pain and pleasure, like a fallen angel for the world to observe. Anyone with a good enough lens could witness this moment.

“Aw, you’re crying now? Shit, you look so pretty like that… I thought you could take it…” you teased, grip tightening on her throat. “You like being my pretty fuck toy, right? Is that why you killed Illyana? Couldn’t handle sharing my cock with anyone else, huh?”

Her breath fogged the glass, huffing out in needy little gasps. “Yes— Yes, I love being your toy— I— I never wanna share you… ever— I’ll take everything, I—” a strangled moan interrupted her as you pressed her lower belly, exactly where you felt the strap prodding at her insides. “I’ll get rid of anyone who thinks they can play with you— mine— ah—!”

Your pace turned punishing. You could practically feel her holding back. It became increasingly difficult to hammer her tight little cunt with the way she clenched around you. She writhed uncontrollably, an absolute mess of throaty groans and jagged breaths, ready to crumble at any second.

Her face was flushed, red, teary. “D-detka I— I’m gonna— I’m gonna come— Please, let me come— I— I need to come right now,” she sobbed, choking on every syllable in time with each thrust.

“Oh, you can come whenever you want, baby…” you purred, a devious grin manifesting itself on your face. “No need for my permission for the rest of the night, okay?”

“Mhmm— y-yes— I— FUCK—!” she mewled, her juices gushed out once more, sploshing across the glass. Oh, the poor maids…

Convulsing in your hold, she couldn’t come down. Her orgasm wouldn’t wash over her… it consumed her entirely. You were in awe, absolutely in love with her, and the way her body reacted to you.

Reaching around, your fingers found her clit. That sweet little button to send her off the rails. She shrieked at the contact, squirming in your grasp while you thrusted with the same brutal force. The dual sensations overloading her mind.

“B-baby wait, it’s too much, I— I can’t—” she croaked, weakly pushing at your wrist. She squirted endlessly, and you intended to milk her dry.

You hesitated briefly, but she did tell you to use her as much as you wanted. So you tilted your head. “Hm… You sure, sweetheart? Say stop, and I will.”

The ball was left in her court. A beat passed. Nothing was said.

Chuckling, you kissed her neck, keeping up the same motions. “You really don’t wanna stop, huh? Yeah, I knew you were gonna be my good girl… My perfect girl… Just keep letting me use your pretty pussy till you can’t take it…”

She nodded, letting out a small “mhmm,” paired with a precious smile. Wanda fell loose in your arms, sweet dreamy whines and sloppy, wet sounds hummed through the air.

You don’t know how much time passed, but at some point, the cries stopped. The trembling stopped. The juices stopped. Her body went slack, nearly collapsing to the ground.

Concerned, you pulled out, holding her up as you cupped her cheek. “Wanda? Baby? You okay?”

Her entire body was overworked, but her arms weakly wrapped around you. “Wh— why stopped…?” she mumbled, hardly coherent.

Fuck… You’d nearly forgotten that she was a virgin before tonight… And you’d just fucked her for what was probably over three hours…

You scooped her up bridal style, smiling at her tranquil, ragdoll figure. Laying her gently on the bed, you kneeled over her, thumb brushing her arm, “Hey, sweet girl… I’m gonna get you some water, yeah?”

Her eyes were shut, peaceful. She made no noise, just her chest rising and falling with little breaths. You weren’t entirely sure if she was awake anymore. So you just chuckled, kissing her cheek and retiring the strap for tonight before you padded to the kitchen.

You came back minutes later with two water bottles, gatorade, and a bag of her favorite chips. “Sweetheart? You awake?” you stroked her cheek, attempting to rouse her.

“Mhmm…” she nodded. You bit your lip, holding back a small laugh. You didn’t really believe her. Setting the snack and drinks aside, you sighed and pulled her in close for cuddles, unsure of what to do next. You really wanted her to have something in her system, but couldn’t exactly force feed her unconscious body. And you didn’t have the heart to wake her.

But one thing bugged the back of your mind… the mess left between her legs. 

Biting your lip, her words from earlier rattled in your brain, an indulgent echo.

you can fuck me till I pass out and still keep using me

Weighing the scales in your head, it wouldn’t hurt to clean her up… and you absolutely did not want her juices to go to waste.

You deliberately rolled her onto her back. Staring in awe at the body of a woman who finally belonged to you. Your mouth claimed a trail starting at her neck. Not bothering to focus too heavily since you’d already marked that to hell. Little purple bruises scattered like constellations. 

The next stop was her perfect breasts. You’d been drawn to them since you met. The way her blouse would hug her tits, sometimes you swore those buttons would burst in the middle of the day… and when she started wearing corset tops at works? Bralettes around the house? God, you were in trouble. 

She hummed sleepily when you took them into your mouth. Sucking intentional specks into that smooth, milky skin you know and love. May no other soul ever get the chance to know or love them. You forced yourself to pull away, reminding your mouth that this is a cleanup job, don’t get carried away (not that she’d mind all that much, if at all).

A simple path carved down her stomach, like footprints in the snow, finally leading to the scene at her legs. Slickness clung to her thighs, her pussy swollen and red from the beating it took. You frowned slightly, but secretly almost felt proud of how much you could do, and how much she could take.

Your tongue dragged on her inner thighs clearing the mess you caused. The taste still fresh, but cooler on your tastebuds. Lapping delicately till sticky skin turned soft. Once satisfied with the result, you scooted up, thumb massaging the sensitive flesh between her legs. She stirred, causing you to look up. Still not awake.

Lowering your head, your tongue moved with languid strokes. Slow and indulgent. Her warm cunt twitched beneath you. You shuddered, refraining from devouring her completely. But that didn’t stop you from sinking deeper, burying your face in her wet heat. You’re just being thorough.

With every swipe, stroke, and lick, you grew hungrier. Shakey breaths, nimble fingers holding her legs open.

Before you realized, Wanda sighed, letting out a yawn that dissolved into a moan. 

She blinked down at you, hands lazily tangling in your hair. “Hm? Am I dreaming?”

You chuckled, looking up and wiping her juices from your chin. “Cleaning up the mess we made. Just lay back, angel. I’ll give you a bath after this…” you explained softly, caressing her thigh before continuing the motions.

Her breath hitched, jaw hanging open as her head tilted back in absolute bliss.

She drew you in closer, grasping at the strands of your hair, hips gyrating in an unhurried fashion. “Mmm… you’re fucking perfect… fuck— I wish we could do this forever…”

You hummed in agreement, mouth working slow and greedy. Her body was still buzzing from everything today. She was aching, pulsing, and dizzy… but she couldn’t help wanting just one more moment of pure ecstasy.

It didn’t take long to get there. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t explosive. But it was everything.

One last breathy cry as she arched into your mouth. Little tremors, light quivers. Satisfaction. 

Satisfaction over finally getting her win. Satisfaction over feeling your pure, undying love.

Everything.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wanda couldn’t tell what happened between the bed and the bathtub. Only processing the fact that she was sitting between your legs, back pressed against your front.

She protested when her mind came back clearly, insisting that she could take more rounds. But you promised her that’s an adventure for another night. Right now, you just needed her.

You held her close. Tying her hair up in a bun to avoid getting it wet. The water warm and still. You fed her snacks and cradled her jaw, coaxing her mouth open to hydrate, then whispering praise for her obedience. 

You told her how perfect she was, and how much you love her. Calling her your sweet angel, your perfect doll, your precious girl.

You kissed her swollen lips. Kissed her jaw, her temple, her rosy cheeks, her shoulder.

And when you finally lifted her out of the tub, you helped her step into her soft, pink panties. Following up with one of your large shirts draping over her form. Her body and mind becoming soft and small for you.

You curled under the sheets together, tucking her head into your chest.

“Thank you for loving me… defending me… fucking me…” she drolled on, hardly aware of her words as she clung to you.

Stroking her back, you smiled against her forehead, “I’d do anything for you. Morning or night. I’ll be around.”

Wanda hummed dreamily, breaths turning to soft little snores.

Your chest ached in the best way, eternally grateful to find a love like this. To find a love with someone like Wanda. Your sweet, precious, guardian angel, Wanda.

Someone you’d kill for. Someone who’d kill for you.

The woman you could ruin and hold sweetly afterwards.

The woman that was beautiful, sexy, and adorable. Inside and out.

The woman you care most about. The woman you want this much. The woman you love this much.