#i'm sensitive

it’s been a long, tiring day, and you’re almost content where you are, cuddling with your girlfriend, face nuzzled into her neck, occasional pained sounds slipping from your lips. it's one of those days, when everything feels like too much and not enough. you feel weak, and with the amount of blood coming out of you, you're surprised you haven't fainted yet.

wanda has her arm firm around you, grounding you, her free hand rubbing soft, soothing circles on your bare stomach, right where it hurts. it's helping, it really is, but it's not quite.. enough. you look down at her hand on your stomach, the veins running up her arm.. her thigh firm between your legs.. you swallow. your legs shift, restless, but you keep quiet, keep still. you don't want to inconvenience her more than you already have.

she's here with you, warm, comforting, patient.. it should suffice. but your girlfriend is wanda maximoff, and it's adorably naive for you to think that you can ever hide anything from her. those watchful eyes are already on you, calculating, analyzing every sound, every shift, every twitch of your legs.

“something wrong, angel?” she asks softly, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. but it's all for show, she knows. has known for a while. you can't see her face, and you're immensely grateful for that, it's impossible to lie to her with that intense gaze of hers directed at you.

you mumble something incoherent into her neck, dismissive.. deflecting. she doesn't respond. you wait, five seconds, six, seven.. then groan when you realize she wants you to look at her and say it. her and her stupid need for eye contact. “wanda.. please. i'm okay, i promise. it just hurts, is all. just keep holding me, please?” you look up at her then, trying your best to make your eyes look as big as possible, maybe she’ll think you’re cute enough and let it pass, but she sighs, disappointed.

your stomach twists.

the one thing you loathe more than anything is disappointing your girlfriend. “..wanda?” you say, soft, unsure. she sighs again, and her arm loosens around you. she's about to pull away completely before you catch her arm, a little too tightly. “wands? what's wrong?” you ask in a small voice, your breath slightly shaky.. did i do something bad?

“you know how i feel when you're not honest with me, baby..” she murmurs, her voice lower now, tucking a stray curl behind your ear.

oh.

you wrap yourself around her again, taking her arm and putting it around you, just as it was before, before nuzzling into her neck again. “i‘m sorry. i just— you've done so much for me already.. i didn't wanna burden you even more.”

“burden me? sweetheart, what have i told you about thinking of yourself like that?” she says, voice mildly firm, her fingers now stroking through your hair, nails grazing your scalp. it’s so comforting, safe. she’s so gentle with how she handles you. it makes you cry sometimes.

“‘m sorry, again.” you mumble, and she sighs, letting it go for now, only because of how fragile you are to her in this state. you yawn, slightly sleepy, relaxing now that you've handled the situation. or so you thought.

“well?”

you blink.

“well what?”

“will you tell me what's got you so restless, sweetheart?”

uh oh.

“it's just–”

you're cut off when the fingers stroking through your hair tighten their grip just slightly and pull you away from the comfort of her neck, until you're looking right at her. your cheeks warm. eye contact.

“i uh.. i feel.. i need—”

“need what, baby?” she asks sweetly, but the way she's looking at you is anything but.

“y-you. i need.. you. your fingers. need them inside me, please.” you admit, embarrassed, because lying to her will get you nowhere, and you don’t like seeing that disappointment in her eyes. especially not now, when you’re so sensitive.

she just looks at you, her eyes darker now, or maybe they’ve been that way for a while. the green barely visible over her dilated pupils. but there's something different about them today, something.. off.

“just my fingers, sweetheart?”

“huh?”

you barely have time to ponder what she meant before she pushes you onto your back, crawling on top of you, dark eyes never looking away from yours as she slowly moves down your body, until she’s settled between your spread thighs. she leans down, and noses the inside of your thigh.

“wanda? what are you–”

“you smell so fucking good.” she groans, burying her face against you, her hands gripping your thighs firmly, making sure you can't move or run away. you're sure that's going to leave bruises later.

oh.

“wanda.. y-you can't..”

“mm. why not, angel?”

she murmurs against your clothed pussy, ravenous.. taking in a lungful and letting out a growl. deeper this time.

your fingers tangle in her hair, trying to push her away, but you're trembling too much, and she barely budges.. just lets out an amused chuckle at your weak attempts. you both know perfectly well that if this is how she wants you, this is how she'll have you, and your struggling only makes it more fun for her.

“because it's dirty~” you whine, frustrated, but the ache between your legs is too much, too dizzying, you can't think.

“you won't let mommy have a taste? you know how badly she's been craving her sweet little girl like this.. you really want to deny her?”

your brows furrow, conflicted. it's disgusting. you should refuse. but if it makes mommy happy.. if she just wants one little taste, then..

“o-okay, mommy. but just one taste, okay?”

that was all she needed. she doesn't waste another second in ripping off your panties along with your soaked pad and throwing them off to the side. you don't even register what has happened until you feel her mouth on you.. hot, wet, starved. she licks at you hungrily, scooping up the crimson leaking out of you with her tongue, moaning obscenely against you at the taste.. you let out a loud, wrecked sound, tightening your fingers in her hair. you let her go on for a bit, whining and moaning helplessly, before you decide that it's enough. she promised.

“m-mommy, that's enough. mngh— you promised—”

she doesn't listen. doesn't stop. doesn't care. her tongue swirls around your entrance, teasing, before she pushes it inside, fucking you with her tongue. you make another sound, louder this time, hips twitching, but her firm grip keeps you still.

“mommy, please—”

she doesn’t budge.

you fall back against the sheets helplessly, realizing that nothing you do or say will get her off you until she’s satisfied.

you shiver at that.

she continues fucking you with her tongue, nails digging into your thighs, keeping you open for her, your blood and arousal dripping down her chin. but… you whine frustratedly at her lack of attention to your clit. you’ve been aching for so long, and this is all you get?

your hips twitch again, trying to get her mouth where you need it most.. but you can’t move, not an inch, she makes sure of that. you make another desperate sound, having had enough. i can't take it anymore. you pull your hands away from her hair. you need to do it yourself.

she looks up at you then for the first time, her lips stained red.. blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.. she looks dangerous, and she knows exactly what you plan to do. she withdraws her hand from your left thigh and pins both your wrists to your stomach, making sure you can’t touch yourself. you gasp at the sudden movement.

she continues her ministrations between your legs as if nothing happened, as if you’re not a person, as if the only thing worthy of attention is your dripping hole.

you try to free your wrists, pouring every ounce of your strength into it.. wrong move. you feel sharp teeth graze your clit, a promise of what would happen if you continued being a brat. you still immediately, a hint of fear creeping into your dazed mind.. but you try not to think too much of it. she wouldn’t actually do that, would she?

she just wants to keep you in line. make sure you behave. there’s nothing you need to be worried about! mommy can be mean sometimes, this is just another one of those times. it’s okay. maybe she just doesn’t realize what you want, you should let her know.

you struggle again, hoping she frees your wrists so you can guide her where you want. she just needs a little direction. that’s okay, nothing to be ashamed of!

she lets go of your wrists.

you sigh, relieved.. just about to thank her—

slap.

you’re cut off by a sharp slap to the inside of your thigh. you jolt. the sting is precise and burning, spreading to your outer thigh and leaving you whimpering in it’s wake. you feel tears forming in your eyes.

“shhh.. i’m sorry, sweetheart. that was too harsh of me, wasn’t it?” she coos sweetly, almost too sweet, caressing the spot where she hit softly, pressing kisses there to soothe you.

“mommy’s sorry, baby. but what can i do? you leave me no choice when you act like that..”

you want to reply, apologize to her for acting so brazenly, for being a brat.. you deserved it. but you can only whimper in response.

“shh.. i know, baby, i know.”

she decides to have mercy on you. her lips finally wrap around your clit, sucking softly, and you scream. she pushes two fingers inside you while she plays with your clit, pumping inside you at a leisurely pace, clearly she wants to drag this out. her tongue swirls around your pearl, almost.. pattern like, but not consistent.. you focus on it unintentionally, needing a distraction from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you, and that's when you realize what it is.. she’s spelling her name on your clit. w a n d a. again and again. you nearly scream once more. she hums against you, pleased at your attention to detail, and rewards you with another harsh flick of her tongue.

you feel it then, that knot in your lower stomach.. coiling tighter and tighter from the torture she's inflicting on you with her tongue and fingers.. if only she'd speed up. you’re so close, so close–

you feel teeth clamp down on your clit, harsh, merciless, and it’s unbearable, it hurts. it hurts so much. why is mommy hurting me? the tears fall freely this time as your body seizes up, mouth open in a silent scream as you finally, finally, come, pretty eyes rolling back.

wanda watches you the whole time.

she helps you ride out the final waves of pleasure, her fingers still moving inside you, small kitten licks on your clit, soothing the sting from her bite as you slowly come down from your high.

after what feels like hours, she finally pulls away from your pussy, almost.. reluctantly, but again, you don’t think too much of it.

you look up at her with dazed eyes, lashes wet, your mind blissfully quiet now, taking in the mixture of crimson and your juices dripping down her chin, all the way to her collarbones. messy. she looks like she just ate an animal.

you watch as she takes her bloody fingers to her lips, and sucks them clean, all the while looking straight at you. there’s a deep satisfaction in her eyes. she looks.. sated. for now.

“feeling better, sweetheart?” she asks with a red smile, her clean hand finding your lower belly and stroking softly.

you blink. you do feel better. your cramps are much more bearable now, almost non-existent.

you still can’t find it in yourself to speak, so you just nod, pleading with your eyes for her to come cuddle you again.

she understands. of course she does. she looks down at you with adoration in her eyes.. you have no idea how sweet you look like this, do you?

“i need to clean us up, angel, and then we can cuddle all you want, okay?” she says softly, brushing your hair back from your face. she would kiss your forehead too but.. oh well.

you nod. so sleepy now.. forcing yourself to keep your eyes open. you really want to cuddle with her.

“sleep, baby. i’m right here. mommy will wake you up when it’s time to cuddle, mm? you’re easier to play with when you’re asleep anyway.”

You confessed your heartache to Junmyeon while waiting in the karaoke line. “I feel so stupid,” you whispered, reeling from the discovery that your ex, who you knew was leaving, had cheated with the girl he swore was his cousin. 

Junmyeon, your best friend, was furious. “He’s an asshole!” he declared, reminding you he had warned you about the bad vibe. You agreed miserably, the sight of the cheating flashing through your mind, making your stomach twist.

“Well, since you’ve finally admitted it, let’s just manifest that his dick falls off,” Junmyeon said, straight-faced, which made you laugh despite your pain. He just played the fool, unable to confess his true feelings while you were suffering.

Once inside the karaoke room, the competition began. Your misery vanished instantly; you were determined to dominate. You were clearly winning. After your stellar score flashed, Junmyeon slid to the floor in mock despair, whining that you had cheated.

You poked him with your foot. “Cry more, loser,” you teased triumphantly. 

Junmyeon snapped back, promising a secret weapon, but his playful expression vanished when he chose a deep, heartfelt love song. You saw the change in his eyes—his usual spark was replaced by a startling honesty. He sang the entire song, pouring his raw feeling into every word, every note aimed directly at you.

The moment his non-winning score flashed, you snapped back into your mean, competitive role. You threw your head back, letting out a loud, mocking laugh. “Seriously?” you shrieked, clapping sarcastically. “You loser, that’s your pathetic secret weapon?”

Junmyeon ignored your laughter, stepping closer. “I don’t care if I lose,” he insisted, his voice strained. “I chose it because I felt it. Every single word.”

You mistook his sincerity for a desperate excuse. “Drama queen,” you snapped coldly, scoffing. “You felt it crash and burn against my high score! Just admit you’re pathetic and let’s move on.”

Your cruel words shredded the courage he had built. He heard only rejection, a clear laugh in the face of his vulnerable heart. Junmyeon went rigid. His eyes clouded, becoming flat and empty. “Right,” he muttered, pulling away as if struck. “I lost. Happy?”

He turned and walked out, leaving you with a cold, sinking feeling. Your mocking smile dissolved into worry. You snatched his forgotten umbrella and raced out of the room, scanning the hall, but Junmyeon had vanished.

Outside, Junmyeon noticed the downpour, but the shame of facing you again was worse than the rain. He let out a weary sigh and walked straight into the storm, feeling utterly pathetic.

You saw him then through the glass doors—soaked, defeated and moving with a miserable slump. Your heart broke a little. Junmyeon looked like a sad, wet puppy, and the sight instantly extinguished the last flicker of your competitive pride.

Without a word, you snapped the umbrella open over your head and ran to catch him, just as Junmyeon was about to cross the corner. You reached out and wrapped your free arm around his waist from behind, pulling him to a sudden stop. The large umbrella tilted instantly, sheltering both of your heads from the heavy rain.

Your embrace stopped him instantly. Junmyeon’s heart leapt against his ribs; he recognized you. He stood frozen until you eased your grip, allowing him to turn and face you. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his clothes soaked, and his expression was a mix of defeat and shame. 

Before he could speak, you said immediately, “I’m so sorry, Junmyeon. I didn’t mean it.” Your voice was tight with worry. 

You cupped his wet cheek in your hand. Junmyeon watched your face in silence, his eyes wide and dark. Every gentle touch, every flicker of concern in your gaze, ignited a tiny, painful spark of hope that he knew he needed to extinguish.

You only saw him as a friend. That brutal fact twisted the knife in his gut.

Junmyeon pulled back slightly, trying to regain his composure. “It’s fine,” he muttered. “I’ll call you later, okay?” He tried to sound normal but failed.

“No,” you insisted. “You didn’t leave because you lost the game. What was the real reason you just walked out?”

Junmyeon shook his head slightly, trying to find the right words. He looked directly into your eyes, his voice barely a breath above the pelting rain. “I can’t be your best friend anymore,” Junmyeon split out, the words raw and honest.

The confession hit you with a jolt of pure fear. Your hand tightened on his cheek. “What? What does that mean?” you demanded immediately, the panic making your voice sharp.

His face softened slightly at the terror in your voice; Junmyeon saw you were desperate to keep him, even if you didn’t know why. The relief gave him the final push. Junmyeon looked down at your mouth, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “It means that song was… for you. I don’t care about losing the game. I’m… in love… I love you,” Junmyeon finally admitted.

The sheer, exposed vulnerability of his voice silenced the world. You didn’t laugh; you didn’t even breathe. Instead, your hand flew from his cheek to the umbrella handle you were holding, and you let it fall to the street. The rain slammed down on both of you immediately, plastering your clothes to your skin.

Junmyeon didn’t wait for your response. He leaned in, his cold lips finding yours with a hesitant, desperate tenderness, initiating the kiss. Your body responded instantly. You clutched his drenched jacket and deepened the kiss with a fierce, soaking urgency.

The kiss felt like an eternity, the cold, pouring rain a frantic witness. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless and completely drenched. You didn’t need a conversation; the passion had spoken for both of you.

You took his hand and pulled him to the curb. Junmyeon hailed a taxi, and the two of you tumbled inside, shivering and dripping wet.

The rest of the drive unfolded in a charged silence. Junmyeon was crimson with blush, unable to meet your eyes after his sudden confession, but he was equally incapable of letting go of your hand when you took it. His grip, your fingers intertwined, was tight and possessive.

When the taxi pulled up to your house, you didn’t hesitate. The door was slammed shut behind you, and you whirled around, pushing him back against the wall. You reached up and kissed him—a long, deep, all-consuming kiss that demanded the fire to start. The last of his shame burned away in the sudden heat.

Junmyeon groaned into your mouth, a desperate, guttural sound that held years of suppressed feeling. His cold hands reached instantly, fumbling with the soaking fabric of your jacket. Junmyeon tore the wet zipper down and pulled the material roughly from your shoulders, the speed and urgency of the motion a stark contrast to his earlier hesitation.

You met his frantic pace, ripping his own sodden shirt open, the buttons snapping and falling unheeded to the wooden floor. You needed to feel his skin, hot and real, against yours. The cold, wet clothes had become an unbearable barrier, a final, tangible reminder of the miserable distance that had always been between you. 

With a shared, shuddering breath, the garments were stripped away, falling in a messy puddle around your feet. The intense heat of his body met the sudden hot temperature of the room.

You threw yourself onto the bed, pulling him down with you. The world became a dizzying rush of soft sheets, tangled limbs, and desperate kisses. His hands found every curve and corner of your naked body.

Junmyeon pulled back, gazing down at your face, his dark hair falling forward. “Please, tell me it isn’t pity,” he said, his voice a rough velvet plea.

You reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Never,” you promised softly, pulling him back into the heat. “Now, fuck me.”

His heart was hammering against his ribs. Kissing you, Junmyeon parted your legs gently with his hips, sliding his cock inside. Both of you gasp against your lips, the ragged sound of pure passion.

You found his eyes again. Junmyeon didn’t say a word; the utter adoration and the vulnerability in his gaze speak for him. You answered by wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, demanding the closeness you both craved.

Junmyeon moved, his first thrusts slow, hesitant, then gathering an urgent, rhythmic momentum. His lips trailed hot and damp kisses down your neck. Your hands reached up and found the skin of his back, tracing the sharp contours of his muscles. You closed your eyes, the sudden shift pulled a loud cry from your lips, and you arched your back against the sheets, both moaning with no stop.

“I can’t believe this is real,” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck.

“You feel very real,” you cried in response.

Junmyeon groaned at your words, a sound of release as much as pleasure. He leaned down, kissing you with overwhelming need. Even though the rhythm of his hips was perfect, the intensity was too high to maintain a single position. You cried out, your breath hitching, and Junmyeon pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes clouded with pleasure.

With a powerful surge, Junmyeon rolled onto his back, his hands guiding your hips upward. You scrambled, swinging your leg over him until you sat astride his hips. The sudden change didn’t break the searing contact; instead, you felt his cock deeper, putting you in control.

You gasp, bracing your hands on his chest, moving, setting a deep, deliberate rhythm. Junmyeon groaned your name, a sound ripped from deep in his chest, closing his eyes, allowing you to dominate the motion. “Shit... you feel so good,” Junmyeon admitted.

You leaned down, your hair falling around his face like a curtain, looking down at his face, moving your hips in circles. “Yes?” you panted, slowing your movements to catch his attention.

Junmyeon gasped, opening his eyes to find you. “Absolutely,” he breathed.

You accelerated your rhythm, riding the wave of pure pleasure. “So that’s why you always lose… you love it when I’m on top of you,” you teased triumphantly.

The words were a trigger. Junmyeon snaked his hands around your waist, his grip fierce and demanding. He thrust his hips up to meet you with a final, shuddering urgency, making you cry out his name.

“Fuck, I’m close…” he murmured, warning you. But you have zero intentions of pulling him out, you just silenced him with a hungry kiss. 

Even after the powerful, blinding climax you shared, neither of you could stop. Between sloppy kisses and lingering, exhausted thrusts, Junmyeon worked to kiss every inch of your skin he could reach, his hands exploring and touching you with a fervent adoration. You clutched him, desperate to feel him closer, deeper, trying to absorb every bit of his presence.

Junmyeon rolled you gently onto your side, then onto your back, then back again, the passion slowing to a tender, rhythmic insistence that carried you through a second and third, sloppy round.

Finally, utterly spent, both of you collapsed. You were too tired to move, your limbs heavy and entwined in the tangled sheets. Junmyeon pulled you close, against his chest, wrapping his arm around your waist, and you hid in the curve of his neck, feeling the warm, comforting weight of his body finally, safely closer.

Junmyeon kissed your shoulder softly, smiling with exhaustion. You lifted your head, enough to kiss him back. Junmyeon cupped your face with his free hand, incapable of stopping kissing you. His lips found your cheek, your forehead, the corner of your mouth, and every sweet spot in between.

“Stop it,” you murmured, giggling though you made no move to pull away.

“Make me.” Junmyeon challenged, giggling too, his eyes shining with adoration. He intertwined his legs fully with yours, both of you completely lost in your own warm world.

Your fingers caressing the damp hair at the back of his neck, never feeling so cherished, so completely loved. “Junmyeon,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss under his jaw, “if you don’t stop being so ridiculously sweet, I’ll actually fall in love with you.”

Junmyeon pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression impossibly soft. He brushed his thumb along your lower lip, his gaze dropping to your mouth. “I’m counting on it,” Junmyeon whispered with absolute conviction. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

“Make me believe you,” you purred, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. Junmyeon smiled—a genuine, heart-melting smile—and kissed you all over again with the same fierce passion as before.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. You rested your forehead against his, your eyes closed. “You’re an idiot,” you breathed, the affection unmistakable. “You were supposed to win, so you could tell me the truth when I was nice to you, not run out into a downpour.”

“I thought about it,” he whispered, Junmyeon’s voice was rough, still recovering. “But when you laughed at the song, at... my feelings, I thought you’d never see me as... more than your best friend.”

You opened your eyes and met his gaze. “I laughed because you’re a terrible player,” you corrected him softly. “And I was being mean because we did it all the time.” You trace his cheek with your fingers.

Junmyeon closed his eyes again, burying his face in the curve of your neck, wrapping your waist. “God,” he muttered against your skin. “I really thought I had lost my chance.” He held you tighter.

You smiled against his wet hair. You knew what Junmyeon meant, and that was enough. You pulled back just far enough to reach his face again and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

His expression softened. Junmyeon looked at you, his eyes still wide, but now they held a different spark. “I really love you,” he confessed again, the words quiet and sacred.

“Then, your next mission is making me love you… ” you teased him, caressing his cheek. “Not as a friend, of course.” You gave him a soft peck on the lips, then looked at him with narrowed, warning eyes. “And I won’t accept you giving up this time.”

Junmyeon chuckled, his eyes full of certainty. He braced his arms on either side of your head and leaned close, his breath warm against your ear.

“Giving up?” Junmyeon murmured, his voice husky. “Honey, I just risked hypothermia and a broken heart to be right here.” He kissed your jawline slowly. “You won the score, but I won the war, and the spoils are excellent.” Junmyeon pulled back just enough for you to see his satisfied grin. “Consider that mission accepted. I’m playing for keeps.”

You pushed his shoulder playfully, your eyes sparkling with joy. “Don’t get cocky. You still have to prove you can outscore me on the next game,” you challenged.

Junmyeon nodded once, sealing the deal. “Oh, I’ll distract you. We can go for a tie.” He joked, kissing you again—a soft, lasting kiss that promised he wasn’t going anywhere.