But what about r sending FREAKY texts to ceo!Wanda👀 during work, business party whatever it is or during an executive meeting👀
𝙱𝙾𝙰𝚁𝙳𝚁𝙾𝙾𝙼 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 — w. maximoff
author's note ; quick fic as i'm getting to class! i will fix the header later .. if i rmb :) i am also very sorry at how long it took for me to get to this request 😕
Wanda sat at her polished mahogany desk, the soft hum of her office being the only sound around her. She was in the middle of an important meeting with clients, but her mind?
Well, it was very much was elsewhere. Or rather, on someone else.
You had been on her mind all day : The way you spoke to her. The way your voice had dropped to a low murmur when you mentioned how much you craved her earlier this morning while dropping some files for her and God, that pencil skirt you had put on today was doing things to her.
The Sokovian's phone buzzed from the corner of her desk, hidden from view by the mountain of paperwork and reports. She glanced at the screen. It was from you, sitting just accross from her.
“Hey, babe. Thinking of you.” You texted, adding a pouty face emoji following the text.
She fought the smile that tugged at her lips, glancing around the room to make sure no one but you was paying attention to her. Her thumb hovered over the phone as her heart raced.
“Focus on the meeting, darling. I don’t want to be caught distracted.”
It wasn’t a no, though.
A few seconds passed, and then— “You sure? You’re not the only one distracted over here.”
Wanda's eyes narrowed. She could feel the tension building, that heat rising from her core. She looked up, just in time to see a small smirk tug at the corner of your lips; of course you'd enjoy this.
Wanda; “Stop it. I’m working.”
She couldn’t help herself. A small smirk formed as she set the phone back down on the desk, trying to regain her composure. But then, just as she thought she had it under control, another message came through.
You: “What if I told you I was wearing something for you? Something you’d love to see come off...”
Her breath hitched.
Your gorgeous leaned back in her chair, her legs crossed tightly under the desk to hide the sudden rush of heat between her thighs.
Wanda: “You’re playing a dangerous game, love. You know I can’t respond to this right now.”
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, tempted. Tempted to reply. To let go. To indulge in this moment, even if it was just over text.
You: “Maybe I want you to let go, Wanda. Maybe I want to make you forget about your meeting...”
Wanda inhaled sharply, closing her eyes for a moment, imagining your lips so close to her ear, whispering those exact words. The tension in her body grew tighter, but she didn’t give in just yet. It took so much self restraint on her end to not dismiss everyone and-
Wanda: “If I let go, you won’t know what to do with me.”
A few moments passed. She could feel her pulse quicken as she waited for your response. She could hear the sound of her own breath in the silence of the office.
And then, it came,
You: “I think you’d be surprised by what I can do, sweetheart. I’ll make you scream my name, just how you like. You’d forget about everything else but me.”
Damn you, you were such a tease. That winking emoji you sent afterwards, as if to mock her and she 'tsk-ed', not loud enough for her employees to hear.
And even so, she could be as loud as she wanted they wouldn't do a damn thing about it.
Wanda exhaled sharply, biting her lip, her gaze flicking to the door. Was it locked? Was anyone outside too? No. But it didn’t matter.
Wanda: “You’re trying to break me, aren’t you?”
She couldn’t hold back the wicked smile that crept across her face. She was CEO Wanda Maximoff, powerful and in control of everything. But when it came to you… you had her wrapped around your finger.
The phone buzzed again.
You: “I’m not trying to break you, baby. I just want you to remember who you belong to...”
Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. There was no going back now.
Wanda: “I’ll remind you later how much I belong to you. But for now, we’ll keep it professional. Just remember, I will make you pay for this later.”
A final text popped up before she could even finish her thought.
You: “I’ll be waiting, Wanda. And I’m going to make sure you don’t forget this... ever.”
Wanda let out a soft, frustrated laugh, trying to mask her growing desire. She locked her phone, placing it back on her desk.
But it wasn’t over.
It never was with you.
And by the time the meeting wrapped up, the only thing on her mind was getting home with you. She could already imagine the way you’d tease her. The way your body would feel pressed against hers. The way you’d take control — just like you always did.
She’d been distracted. But now?
Now she couldn’t wait for the moment to be alone with you.
basically, The Boys is a superhero show but kinda different.. the heroes there are like celebrities, made more to bring profit to Vought (the corporation that creates the heroes through Compound V, which is basically like the super soldier serum, it gives powers to the supes) than to keep people safe. behind all that perfection and kindness, some (most) of them are kinda criminal 🫠 there's the most famous team called "The Seven", which I think would be a satire of the avengers if the show existed in their universe. so things happen, and a small group that calls themselves "The Boys" appears, formed by normal people who want to expose the truth and put an end to the corrupt heroes.
it's a good show in my opinion, you should watch it if you want and have time :D the only "bad" thing is that there's a lot of explicit scenes
i've heard of this show and my sister was even watching it last year, and let me tell you, the random explicit scenes shocked me—thought, i never knew the context of that show but the dialogues were funny. but i will make sure to watch it!
i want to actually watch some of it before getting to your request so i'll have further knowledge on what i'm writing :) i hope you don't mind waiting a little 🙏🏻
author's note ; small drabble of my thoughts because, well, i can't think of anything in full rn & i'm very busy too :)
You had a rule: never get involved with a walking red flag. Especially not one in a leather jacket with a body count — academic and otherwise — trailing behind her like smoke.
But Natasha Romanoff never cared about your rules.
She cared about making you squirm.
It started with the seat in class, then the coffee "accidentally" delivered to your table. Then the hand on your thigh during a late-night study group, slipping under the hem of your skirt like it belonged there.
"Distracted?" she whispered once, her voice low, sultry, while your professor scribbled on the board. Her fingers tapped innocently against your notebook, just beside your thigh. "You've been fidgety all class. Or is it just me?"
You didn't look at her. If you did, you'd melt.
But she knew. She always knew.
Library. 11:37 PM.
You were alone in a corner, lights dimmed, final papers looming. You'd meant to be productive and then she showed up : hair messy, eyes focused only on you.
"You didn't answer my text," she said, dropping into the seat beside you.
You didn't even look up. "You sent 'wyd' at midnight. I'm not one of your drunk hookups, Romanoff."
"God," she groaned, leaning in, breath hot on your neck. "That mouth, always so smart. You know what it does to me?"
You turned slowly. "You really think I'm just gonna fall into your bed like the rest of them?"
Natasha's smirk dropped a little.
"No," she said. "I think you'll make me work for it. And I like that."
Then she leaned closer, "But I also think you're soaking through those cute little panties right now."
Your breath caught.
"Say I'm wrong," she added, voice dark. "Look me in the eye and say I don't get you wet just by being here."
You couldn't. Because she was right.
Dorm, later that night, she pressed you up against the back of your door the moment it shut. Her hands were everywhere — your waist, your jaw, your thighs. Her lips tasted like cherry vodka and something unspoken.
You tugged her tank off, and she grinned against your mouth. "I knew you wanted this."
"Shut up," you whispered, gasping as her knee slotted between your legs, the pressure making your head spin.
"You shut me up," she challenged.
And you did.
It was heat. Tongues. Teasing. Fingernails down her back. Her mouth between your legs. Whispered filth between gasps.
Natasha was experienced — too experienced — but with you, she slowed down. Kissed with intention. Touched like she wanted to memorize every shiver.
After, you lay tangled in her sheets, flushed and breathless.
She lit a cigarette, lips parted.
"You're not like the others," she muttered finally.
You glanced at her. "No shit."
She laughed quietly. "If I let you in... you're not gonna leave, right?"
Hii. Can you write a CEO Wanda X gem!reader fic in which r gets in a horrible car accident and Wanda gets scared as hell that she'll die? Veeeeeryyy angsty and happy ending. Thank you in advance. Absolutely LOVE all of your fics
FIERCE PROTECTION
The rain had been relentless all day.
By the time you left the office, the sky had turned a heavy shade of gray, clouds swollen with the promise of more. You didn’t mind. Your shift was over, and you were heading home to Wanda — to warmth, quiet, and her soothing presence after a long day.
Wanda had called you a few times throughout the day, her voice always calm but full of that tender, protective tone she had whenever you were away from her. You’d promised you’d be home soon, but that had been an hour ago, and you were now stuck in the worst traffic of the day, the storm slowing everything down.
You didn’t think anything of it. It was just a regular drive. A little frustrating, but nothing you couldn’t handle.
Yet, it happened so fast.
One moment, you were waiting in the gridlock, the rain beating against your windshield, and the next, a car behind you slammed into yours with a force that made your body jerk forward.
Everything went black.
. . .
Wanda had been sitting at her desk, distracted by a call from a potential investor, when her phone vibrated again. It was from your phone number, but the message that followed wasn’t from you.
A hospital emergency room number flashed on the screen.
Her breath caught in her chest.
Before the ringing could finish, she answered.
“Hello?” she asked, her voice betraying the panic building inside her.
“Ma’am,” a calm voice said on the other end. “This is St. Mary’s Hospital..”
The world tilted as Wanda listened to the person tell her that you had an accident.
“Is she—” Wanda’s voice was shaky, like she couldn’t form the words fast enough. “Is she okay?”
“We’re doing everything we can, ma’am. But we need you to get here as quickly as possible.”
The line went silent for a moment. All Wanda could hear was the sound of her own breathing, ragged and uneven, her heart racing like it was trying to escape her chest.
“Ma'am?” the voice said again. “Are you still there?”
“I’m coming. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Wanda forced out, her hand shaking as she ended the call. Her world was spinning. Her entire body was trembling as her mind went into overdrive. Not you. Please not you.
. . .
By the time Wanda arrived at the hospital, her heels were slamming against the floor in quick, frantic steps. She barely noticed the people in her path, her vision tunnel-visioned on the elevator doors that would take her to you.
When the elevator doors opened, she bolted out, looking desperately for the nearest nurse, her voice breaking with every word.
A nurse pointed down the hall. “Room 304.”
Wanda didn’t even say thank you as she hurried to the door. When she opened it, she froze.
You were unconscious in the hospital bed, a multitude of machines attached to you, the rhythmic beeping of your heart monitor all that filled the space. Your head was bandaged, and your neck was in a brace. You looked so small, so fragile. So far away.
A wave of nausea hit Wanda, and her knees nearly buckled beneath her.
You were alive. But barely.
She rushed to your side, her hand trembling as she took yours in hers.
Wanda whispered your name, her voice trembling.
Her tears hit your hand, and she squeezed your fingers tightly, as if she could will you awake with her touch.
. . .
When you finally woke, everything felt wrong. Your head was pounding, and the familiar warmth of Wanda beside you didn’t seem to calm the confusion swirling inside your brain.
The room was white, too bright, and it smelled sterile. The soft beep of machines and the muffled voices outside the door only made the pressure in your chest heavier.
“Wanda?” you whispered, barely able to move.
Her head snapped to you, eyes wide and red-rimmed, but she smiled the moment she saw you were awake. “Oh, thank God. You’re awake. I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.”
You blinked slowly, trying to piece things together.
“What happened?” you whispered.
“You were in an accident,” Wanda explained softly, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “You were hit by another car, and you blacked out. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for hours.”
Your heart started to race, panic seeping in as you realized the gravity of the situation.
“I’m okay, right?” you asked weakly, voice hoarse. “I’m still… I’m still here?”
Wanda nodded, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re here. You’re okay. You’re alive, baby. You have no idea how scared I was.” She gently cupped your cheek, eyes glossy. “Please don’t scare me like that again.”
Your fingers tightened around hers, and you could feel her warmth, her need for reassurance. You’d almost left her. And she wasn’t sure she could have lived with that.
. . .
In the days following the accident, Wanda was a constant presence at your side. No matter how busy she was at work, she made sure someone covered for her, leaving the office to care for you.
She fed you soup from the spoon, like she was afraid you’d break if she didn’t handle you with the utmost care. She curled up beside you in bed at night, arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you as if you were her most prized possession.
The fear of nearly losing you never left her — even when you were slowly recovering.
One night, while you rested, she sat at the edge of the bed, fingers tracing the bandage on your head.
“You’re my everything,” Wanda whispered, barely above a breath. “I would never survive without you.”
You opened your eyes, just enough to meet her gaze. And in that moment, there was only love. No more fear. Just tenderness.
⋆ headcanon form of being natasha romanoff’s wife .ᐟ
warnings — none. except me just writing without any context, i was just thinking about wifey nat :)
Wifey!Nat who is the definition of a protective spouse—her love language is knowing where you are, who you’re with, and that you’re safe. She doesn’t hover, but she’s always aware—or more likely loves to always be aware of everything revolving around you.
Wifey!Nat who isn't super traditional, but she does wear her wedding ring at all times. She’ll take it off on missions and slip it on a chain under her suit.
She absolutely adores waking up next to you. Morning Wifey!Nat is soft, clingy, and kisses your shoulder before she gets out of bed to make coffee for both of you.
You have a drawer in the kitchen specifically for knives because she keeps buying them with the reason of “can't never have too many.”
Wifey!Nat who is surprisingly domestic. She might not be an amazing cook but she finds peace in cleaning or folding laundry after intense missions. (post resting under your obligation, of course).
Wifey!Nat who hates grocery shopping but will come along if you ask—she pushes the cart while you pick things out, occasionally sneaking snacks into it for you.
Wifey!Nat who insists you know some self-defense, even if she’s never planning on letting you be in danger. She teaches you how to disappear in a crowd and how to spot a tail—“Just in case, printsessa.”
You’ve had multiple SHIELD/Avengers agents secretly assigned to keep an eye on you when she is away.
Wifey!Nat who always gets the best security in your shared home. Think panic buttons, reinforced locks, and facial recognition tech.
Wifey!Nat who has a sixth sense about people. If she doesn’t like someone in your life, she’s almost always right.
She’s not super flashy with PDA, but she’s incredibly intense in private. She loves slow dancing with you in the kitchen at night.
Wifey!Nat who loves kissing you softly when she first comes home from a mission, then holding you like she’s never letting go.
Wifey!Nat remembers every single anniversary, important date, and your favorite things. She’ll buy you flowers or little trinkets from other countries she visits.
Wifey!Nat who only calls you by sweet pet names like “moya lyubov” (my love) or “zvezdochka” (little star) in Russian. It's only ever your name when you're either arguing, or just you being a brat.
"tell me the truth, y/n. don't play with me."
Wifey!Nat has a soft spot for cuddling. She’ll sprawl across you like a cat, insisting she’s “just resting for five minutes” but actually falling asleep.
Wifey!Nat who becomes terrifyingly efficient when it comes to your safety. No one lays a hand on you without facing heavy consequences.
If she ever finds out you were scared or threatened, she’ll hold you close and whisper, “I’ve got you. Always.”
She’d burn the world down if someone hurt you.
Wifey!Nat who steals your clothes. She’s always lounging in your hoodies and claims they smell like “home.”
Movie nights mean she falls asleep halfway through but won’t admit it.
She’s the kind of wife who will assemble IKEA furniture at 2 a.m. and curse in Russian the whole time.
Wifey!Nat who also loves to tease you endlessly but gets defensive if anyone else tries.
Being with you gives Wifey!Nat the sense of family she’s always craved. You’re her safe place, her anchor.
She gets emotional about your wedding day because she never thought she’d ever get that kind of happiness.
Wifey!Nat who writes you love notes when she’s away. Little “I love you” slips left in your coat pocket or book bag.
Hiii could I request a ceowanda x reader fic in which they have a little daughter ( around 5-6 years old) and it's "take your child to work day" so Wanda spends most of the day with her in an effort to impress her, but her kid gets impressed instead with the most ordinary things (blinds, Wanda's chair, the coffeemaker, a stapler...) and maybe with another little boy/girl from one of the coworkers (to Wanda's dismay and reader's amusement)
EXECUTIVE DECISIONS — w. maximoff
author's note ; finally back !! after not posting from however long of a break i took. i think i had writer's block without realizing but i was thinking about this unfinished draft after watching a lizzie's movie and decided to finish it :) what best to do when you don't go to class?
Wanda Maximoff had prepared for this like it was a shareholder meeting. Her calendar was cleared, her office was spotless, her assistant had been warned that nothing was to go wrong.
Because today was Take Your Child to Work Day — and Wanda was determined to be impressive.
Your daughter, Maya, sat between you at the breakfast table, swinging her legs as she ate cereal.
“Mama works in a biiiiig building,” she announced seriously. “With lots of important things.”
Wanda smiled proudly. “That’s right, sweet girl. Mama runs the company.”
Maya nodded, clearly impressed. Then she looked at you.
“Do you have snacks?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Then I’m ready.”
You bit your lip to keep from laughing.
. . .
The moment the elevator doors opened, Wanda knelt beside Maya.
“Alright,” she said gently. “I’m going to show you my office. It’s where I make very important decisions.”
Maya walked in slowly, eyes wide.
Wanda waited. She anticipated awe, maybe dmiration. Or even a tiny gasp of wonder.
Instead—
“WOW,” Maya breathed.
Wanda straightened, pleased. “Yes?”
Maya pointed, ecstatic.
“The blinds go up AND down??”
“…They do.”
Maya ran to the window, pressing the button repeatedly. “They’re magic!”
You laughed openly now.
Wanda leaned over to you, whispering, “It’s fine. She’s just warming up.”
. . .
Wanda guided Maya toward her desk.
“And this,” she said, gesturing grandly, “is Mama’s chair.”
Maya climbed up carefully.
She spun once, then again. Her eyes lit up like she’d discovered fire.
“IT TURNS.”
Wanda smiled tightly. “Yes, but Mama uses it to—”
Maya leaned back and spun faster.
“I WANT ONE, MAMA.”
“You’re five,” Wanda said weakly.
“NOOOO. I’M ALMOST SIX.”
You wiped tears of laughter from your eyes.
The Sokovian tried again.
“Would you like to see how Mama makes her coffee?”
Maya nodded politely.
The machine whirred, steam hissed and Maya gasped. “It’s LOUD.” She watched the cup fill like it was a sacred ritual.
“That’s so cool,” she whispered. “Does it make hot chocolate?”
Wanda paused. “…No.”
Maya’s interest died instantly and she murmured in disappointment, “Oh.”
But before Wanda could even say another word, Maya distracted herself again. The stapler. She picked it up, pressed it and it cliked
Her mouth fell open.
“THIS THING EATS PAPER.”
Wanda closed her eyes.
You bent down beside your daughter. “Careful, sweetheart.”
“Mama,” Maya said seriously, holding the stapler up. “This is the best thing here.”
Wanda looked personally betrayed for some reasons.
As if that weren’t enough, Maya wandered out into the common area — where another child sat on the floor with blocks. A worker’s kid about the same age.
They looked at each other : instant friendship.
Within seconds, they were building a tower together, whispering conspiratorially.
Wanda watched from her office doorway, arms crossed.
“She hasn’t smiled at my desk like that,” she muttered.
You leaned against her. “You’re being replaced.”
Wanda sighed. “By a child with blocks.”
Maya waved. “Mama! Look! We made a castle!”
Wanda forced a smile.
“Can we take the stapler home?”
“No,” Wanda and you said in unison.
. . .
Back at home, Maya curled up on the couch between you, exhausted.
“So,” you asked softly, “what was your favorite part of Mama’s office?”
“The blinds,” she said. “And the spinny chair. And the paper eater.”
Wanda laughed at last — quiet, genuine.
“Well,” she said, kissing Maya’s hair, “Mama will try harder next year.”
Maya smiled sleepily. “Mama doesn’t need to be impressive. I already know she’s so cool.”
Wanda’s chest tightened.
Later, when Maya was asleep, Wanda pulled you into a hug in the kitchen. “I run a multinational company,” she murmured. “And lost to a stapler.”
You kissed her cheek. “You also won at being her favorite person.”
hi! I have a question... when you write your word count, are you counting individual characters or the entire words themselves? Because I've noticed that your word count and the actual length of your stories are different. I'm not trying to be mean or anything! I'm just really curious.
i count the story's word length. i get it wrong at times because i write in the middle of the night or just because i happen forget but i will be more careful from now on.