omg something with gp!toph accidentally knocking you up and getting so excited about it...
like now she can cum in you without worrying because you're already pregnant?
đȘ toph b. + pregnant!reader.
á° warnings: afab!reader. gp!toph. slight mean!toph but whatâs new? p in v. unprotected sex ‿ wrap b4 you tap!!! creampie. written in public & NOT proofreadâŠ.iâm deeply sorryâŠ..
oh yeah, i just know toph would be so smug about the fact that sheâs got you knocked up with her baby!! as a matter of fact, sheâs thrilled to see all the factors that come with it tooâŠ.
this leads us to a thought sheâs been processing after a good while: given that youâre already pregnant, there should be no issue to cum in you from now on, right? ;) sure, what common knowledge is, toph never avoided wearing a condom if it was from your personal demand, and thatâs a boundary sheâd never cross.
though, now that the barrierâs been removedâŠ..
as well when the pregnancy hormones start to flick around your inner libido, you find yourself hopelessly horny, stuck at some points in your life in which you probably shouldnât be like this- constantly thinking of tophâs dick stuffing you full. but oh well, itâs not like you control it! belly swollen with the fruit of your love & clit already throbbing underneath the fabric of your thin panties, the restraining clothing material clings onto every upright nerve of your body.
you give a chance to all the remaining options: forcing yourself to not give up to your cravings; palpating your sore breasts above your t-shirt; and lastly but not least, you eventually end up rubbing your clit through the soaked material of your panties. the only thing on the table is to wake toph up, but that isnât something youâd do normally, so you struggle & take a breather before thinking it through. then you realize how frustrating it is for you to carry such weight and that sheâs the one who put it that way, so a few less hours of sleep wonât kill her. if anything, toph feels blessed to kill some nighttime with breeding you without taking precautions by now!
and given the wet dream she was witnessing in her mind, too, it doesnât take long to fall for your indulgence. as soon as her eyelids come down to her senses, feeling your slight poking in order to catch her attention, she hears from your complaints & instinctively knows what to do.
a few minutes pass before tophâs already hard cock can finally feel you warmth, listening to your moans as she pounds into you feverishly. though your sounds leave her breathlessly content, you canât deny that tophâs using your cunt for her own pleasure, so donât expect her to stop right away. âfuck,â she rasps, sensing as your puffy folds part around the length. âcanât do anything but take it, fucking cockslutâŠâ and not to mention how her full-blown cockiness turns you on even more; even if sheâd like to sweet-talk you with the baby in your belly, you assured her of how much you enjoy when sheâs mean to you, so she wonât change onto that.
âa-ahh!!!â you shamelessly moan, head throwing back & mouth hanging open. if only toph could see the way your full breasts bounce, or how beautiful you look with your tummy swollen, sheâd go even crazier than she actually is. âo-ohh my god! s-so deep babyâŠâ
âuh-huh, yâlike that?â she pounces, easily slipping her cock in & out of your plush cunt given the sheer of wetness you produce. the way her tip brushes along that sweet spot inside you has you both on the verge to come, which initiates your begging.
âgive it to me-â you pant, hips jerking towards her thrusts. âf-fuck, need to feel it so- ugh, so bad!â
tophâs movements are on their own now, twitching uncontrollably against your g-spot as her orgasm approaches. fuck, you need it, she needs it. âshit- really? want me to breed you again? arenât you- uh, the prettiest mama already?â her grip on your thighs wonât loosen for godâs sake, itâs all overstimulating. you already went dumb on tophâs cock & by now itâs too late to even pull out anyway (thatâs how you got pregnant in the first place đđ).
âdonât care,â it seems like youâre babbling nonsense, just like expected at this point. âp-please, cum in me- augh! wantitsobad!â you mewl in one, languid whine.
âholy spirits-â she hisses, teeth gritting violently at how tight youâre getting around her. âfuck, keep squeezing me like that,â
you can actually feel how her cock throbs within your slick walls, now strangling it to the max so she can struggle to thrust properly. toph loves whenever you get needy, and given the state youâre in, it isnât the last time sheâll find you begging for her; and how to deny you when your lips curl in such pout?
âoh fuck,â she gasps against your lips, swollen from the roughness of her previous kisses. âgonna cum, gonna cum inside you- fuckfuck!â
ây-yes! please!â
her frantic bumps quickly stop as your cunt convulses, leaving her milked & dry as her cum oozes inside you, the orgasm tearing through both of you. toph eases in you, trying to slow her pace radically as the aftershock hits, before you can recover & gain consciousness again. her cum dribbles at your entrance, thick globes of pearly substance roaming down on the space in which her cock isnât buried. âyouâre going to kill me, mamaâŠâ toph mutters in a chuckle, letting you relax in her hold, finally.
heyyy so ik long & more detailed reqs are taking very much time but i really wanted to get this out of my drafts sooo đđ also i mixed three reqs in one with this, i hope, so yeah
tags: @bewitched-pearl @mimipeeeeepee @pancakes21 @bbatzvil @diouna @mariistic @mojo-is-rising @creamypvssy @akiautumnn @thebaddestbitcheva @thatredheadloserlesbian @jazfartz2 @livcdc @cherrybomb61 @stillastilza @420slvtt @glitterunicornstink12 @meriegemeringue @skullio11 â if you wanna join comment on this post !!
catgirl!maomao favorite place to cuddle is between your breasts ê° à Ë. á”á”
cw: fluff, art by clivenzu
She's always around you, waiting for the time where you finally lay down to rest. She watches you from the other side of the room, both of you working together but in different chores, Maomao needs you to be just a little tired so sometimes she asks Gaoshun to give you just a tiny bit more of work.
"Oof." Her ears move exactly when she hears you sigh and clean your sweaty forehead with the back of your hand, you've been sewing and knitting for the last four hours. You back hurts, your fingers are numb and your neck is sore.
Maomao is already looking from her shoulder, waiting.
"Do you want to make some tea and rest, Maomao?" you ask, fully turning towards her with your nose furrowed.
She tries to be chill, to act cool but before she can stop herself, she's nodding fast, getting up and taking your hand to go with her to her own room. You're used to this, in fact, you know exactly what you're going to do. Once you step into Maomao's room, you two are going to lay in bed and not move for at least an hour.
You let Maomao tug you along the hallway, her small hand warm in yours and her tail swishing happily behind her. The door to her room clicks shut softly and she doesn't waste a second. She kicks off her shoes and climbs onto the bed first, patting the spot next to her.
You smile and settle down beside her, stretching out on your back with a tired little groan. "Come here, silly girl."
Maomao hesitates for half a second, ears twitching, then scoots right over. She curls up against you like it's the most natural thing in the world, pressing her face gently between your breasts with a content sigh. Her soft cat ears brush your skin, you can already feel her relaxing, the tension melting out of her shoulders.
You also relax with her, your hand finds its way to the back of her head without thinking. Fingers stroke her tenderly behind the ears, you already know how she likes it. It doesn't take long before she's purring against you.
"You know," you whisper after a quiet minute, still petting her, "you don't have to wait for me to look all worn out. You can just ask if you want cuddles."
She freezes for a beat, then shakes her head without lifting it. Instead she burrows a little deeper, nose nuzzling closer, the idea of saying it out loud is too much!! Her tail curls around your leg, holding on.
You laugh softly under your breath. "Okay, okay. Message received."
You two fall into silence again, you're already a bit sleepy when you sense Maomao shifting a tiny bit. "Can... can I hold one of them?"
You smile at how careful she sounds. "Hold what?"
You can hear her sigh low, resting her chin between your breasts to look up at you. "You know..."
"I don't, actually," you tease, your hand threading through her dark green hair.
"Are you gonna make me say out loud that I want to hold one of your breasts?" She blinks slowly.
That makes you smile and you nod. "You can even hold both of them, if you're feeling greedy."
She makes the happiest sound and gently cups one breast in her palm, not even squeezing it. Her purr kicks up louder and she snuggles in even more, eyes half-closed in pure bliss.
You keep stroking her ears, watching the way her tail flicks contentedly every few seconds. Neither of you are moving any time soon.
sometimes people will insist a character is butch/masc and then you look at the character and theyâre just fat. or muscular. or black. or indigenous. or some combination of the above.
Summary: In a future where having a child must be earned through an assessment, you and your husband are willing to do whatever it takes to start a family. But as the assessment progresses, old wounds resurface, relationships are tested, and a shocking revelation forces you to question everything you thought was impossible.
Pairing: Assessor Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader
Word count: 15k
Tags/Warnings: 18+ dark themes, SMUT, dubcon, strap-on use, familial roleplay (?), pseudo-incest, dystopian future, infidelity, all kinds of manipulation lol, forbidden pregnancy, obsessive yandere behavior
Author's Note: I am so scared for this one since it has incestuous undertones and we all know how detested this theme is around the fandom. But then again, it is already a warning so if you're not into it, don't read. Your thoughts about this fic are very welcome.
ᱏ
"She has arrived." FRIDAY says, her voice carrying through the house without urgency.
Tony looks up from the counter. "Already?"
"Yes," FRIDAY replies. "She is currently waiting at the front door."
"I'll get it," you say. You've barely shifted your weight when FRIDAY speaks again.
"For your awareness," he says, "your heart rate has increased by twelve percent over baseline."
You stop for half a second, pressing your lips together as you let the fact settle. Of course it has, this is your home. FRIDAY knows your routines, your anxieties, the way your heart rate shifts about something. The difference between anticipation and fear, between excitement and the kind of tension that sits low in your chest and tightens your breath.
Before you can respond, Tony reaches for you. His hand wraps around yours. He squeezes once, firm enough to remind you that you're not alone in this, that whatever waits on the other side of the door is something you'll face together.
"I've got you," he says quietly, just under his breath. Then, without breaking that connection, he speaks to his invention. "FRIDAY, set the lights to neutral. Increase oxygen levels slightly."
"Already in progress," FRIDAY replies smoothly. "Lighting adjusted to neutral. Oxygen increased by three percent."
You look at Tony and manage a small smile. The kind you only wear for him. He returns it, quick and familiar. His thumb brushing once against your knuckles.
Hand in hand, you walk toward the front door.
And behind stands a woman.
She's slightly taller than youâmaybe three inches at mostâbut it's enough that you notice it immediately, enough to shift the way you hold your shoulders as your gaze lifts to meet hers. Her hair is red in a tight bun. She's wearing what looks like the standard assessor uniformânothing flashy. A neat pencil skirt, a blue and white top that comes all the way up to her neck, long white socks, and flat shoes that look comfortable enough to stand in for hours. It's practical, almost deliberately plain.
Her eyes move to you first. Not invasive, just simply attentive, like she's already registering details she won't comment on later.
"Hi, I am Wanda. Your assessor." She says.
You feel the moment stretch, your body a half-beat behind your thoughts. You're aware of your heartbeat again, of the careful neutrality of the light behind you, of the fact that this is the first real impressionâthe one that will quietly color everything that follows.
Before you can speak, Tony shifts beside you.
"Hi," he says, his voice warm but measured. "Welcome. I'm Tony and this is my wife, Y/N." He gestures toward you. "Please, come in."
You step aside and gesture her in and the three of you move through the house together. Wanda follows without hesitation, her attention taking in the room without obvious scrutiny. When you reach the living area, she sets her bag down neatly at her feet and sits, smooth and practiced, as if she's done this countless times before.
You and Tony take the seats across from her. You feel Tony stiffened when he sat straight, he never sat straight, he would always crouch every chance he got. You sit forward just a little, hand on your lap the other taking your husband's.
Wanda doesn't reach for anything when she begins. She simply looks at the two of you for a moment longer than is comfortable.
"So in the next seven days you'll undergo close observation and formal testing to ascertain suitability for parenting. Let's start simply." She says. "How long have you been together?"
You let out a small nervous laugh before you can stop it. Your fingers begin fidgeting against your lap almost instantly, twisting once against the fabric of your sleeve.
Your husband answers first, easy. "Three years." His hand shifts closer until his knuckles brush yours, grounding without making a show of it.
Wanda nods, then turns her attention to you. "And together?"
"Five," you say. Your voice sounds steadier than you feel.
She watches how you answeredânot the words, but the timing, the way you look at Tony for confirmation.
"Tell me how you met," Wanda continues.
Tony smiles faintly. "I hired her."
You shoot him a look. "You interviewed me."
"That's what I said," he replies, unapologetic.
"And did that dynamic carry into your relationship?" The woman's question lands more sharply than the tone suggests.
"At first, maybe. But not for long."
"Why not?" Wanda asks.
"Because it wouldn't have worked, if she doesn't have an equal say." Your husband answered for you in which you agreed in your mind.
Wanda doesn't write anything down. She doesn't even shift in her seat. She just watches you for a moment longer than she has before, her attention narrowing until it feels uncomfortably precise.
"You're quiet," she says at last.
The room stills.
"You let him answer for you," Wanda continues, "Is that always your dynamic?"
You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. Your thoughts trip over each other. You feel the familiar hitch in your breath, the way words line up faster than you can release them.
"Iâ" You stop. Start again. "I justâ"
Beside you, Tony shifts. You feel the immediate instinct, that reflex. He's about to step in, about to smooth it over and protect you from the silence like he always does.
Before he can, Wanda lifts a hand. "I'm asking her," she says gently.
Tony freezes.
You feel itâthe effort it takes for him to stay quiet. His jaw tightens and his mouth closes. He leans back just slightly, hands clasped together, eyes on you instead of Wanda.
The silence stretches.
Your heart pounds. You're painfully aware of every second it takes you to speak, of how exposed it feels to be watched while you gather yourself.
"It's notâŠalways," you manage, the words uneven but real. "He talks faster than I do. I think longer. He just fills the space for me.
Tony's fingers twitch once in his lap but he doesn't interrupt.
"Do you ask him to?" Wanda presses.
"No," you say. "He justâŠknows."
"And do you want him to stop?" she asks.
The question lands softlyâand devastates anyway.
You shake your head. Then add, more carefully, "Not always. But sometimesâŠI need the space first."
Wanda's gaze flicks briefly to Tony, then back to you. She moves on without another word.
"What scares you about being a parent?"
You knew this was coming. You'd rehearsed answers in your head. Thought you were ready. Still, your mouth feels dry.
"I'm scared I won't know when I'm doing damage," you say after a moment. "That I'll think I'm helping when I'm actuallyâŠshaping something that can't be undone."
"And what tells you that's a possibility?" she asks again.
You hesitate. This wasn't in the rehearsal. "Because that's how it happened to me," you admit. "No one meant to hurt me. But they still did."
The silence that follows is uncomfortably heavy.
Wanda shifts slightly, then asks, "What excites you?"
You glance at Tony without thinking. He doesn't speak. He just watches you, steady, letting you answer this one yourself.
"The chance to do it differently," you say quietly. "To give someone safety and love without control. To watch a person become themselves and not feel threatened by it."
"What do you think a child would cost you?"
You blink. "Everything," you say honestly. "Time, energy, parts of myself I'm used to keeping."
"And what would it give you?"
You answer without thinking this time. "Love."
You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. You'd heard about this part, the intensity and the way it makes you feel smaller and clearer at the same time.
"What would you do for your child?"
"Everything."
Wanda lets the pause stretch just long enough for you to think everything is over. Then she shifts, folding one leg over the other as her questions turn inward.
"Let's talk about health," she says. She asks about sleep firstâhow many hours, who wakes first, who lies awake longer. Then diet and stress. Tony answers some of it easily, with numbers and habits and half-shrugs. You fill in the gaps when he glosses over things, the quiet ones he forgets count.
Then mental health.
"When one of you isn't well," Wanda asks, "how does the other know?"
You answer that one. Wanda nods slowly, as if placing each answer into an invisible structure.
"How often do you have sex?"
You freeze.
You were just about to look at your husband when he spoke.
"Regularly," Tony answered, easy enoughâand then he glances at you, a quick grin flashing across his face. He knows this one isn't yours to answer. You've always been the quieter one when it comes to things like this.
Wanda doesn't react. She simply tilts her head slightly, as if adjusting the lens she's looking through.
"How regular is regular?" she asks. Her eyes never leave yours. It's starting to make you uncomfortable.
You shift slightly on the couch, suddenly hyperaware of everythingâyour breathing, the warmth gathering in your face, the way Tony's knee is pressed against yours.
Then Tony steps in exactly the way you knew he would.
"Pretty regular," he says lightly. "We're married, not dead."
A quiet, startled laugh slips out of you before you can stop it. He can be sarcastic like that.
Wanda doesn't smile at that. "How many times a week?"
"Oh, wellâŠ" his grin tilts sharper for half a second before easing again. "Depends on the week."
"That isn't an answer."
Tony exhales softly through his nose, settling deeper into the couch like he's trying to make the conversation casual through sheer force of will. "Four?" he says. "Sometimes more. Sometimes less if one of us is busy." He finishes lazily.
Wanda nods once. "And who initiates more often?"
You can practically feel the moment he decides this is still his question to handle again.
He also very clearly thinks the question is ridiculous. But somehow, impossibly, he remains behaved. This is a test, he reminded himself.
"Me," he answers without hesitation.
Wanda's gaze finally shifts to him. "Why?"
Tony blinks once like the answer should be obvious.
"BecauseâŠ" he gestures his left arm vaguely in your direction. "I like my wife?" A beat passes before he adds, completely serious, "And she's beautiful, smart, and hot."
Then you cover your lip with one hand, already mortified. "Tonyâ"
"What?" he says immediately, turning toward you with genuine confusion. "You are."
"And that's enough reason?" Wanda asks sharply as if you two are forgetting she is there.
Tony looks back at her. "Shouldn't it be?"
You can feel the tension building again beneath Tony's composure now. He is not angry exactly but defensive.
He let out a heavy sigh realizing that the woman was still waiting for his answer. "She works herself into the ground," he starts. "Half the time she forgets what she needs because she's too focused on everyone else. So yeah, sometimes I initiate because she deserves to be wanted before she asks for it."
The room falls quiet again, and this time the heat creeping up your neck has absolutely nothing to do with nerves anymore. Wanda watches you carefully from across the couch, completely composed while you feel like you're actively dissolving into the cushions beneath you.
"Do you achieve a regular climax?" the ask is now directed to you.
Your mind buffered with the question but still you answered. "Y-Yes."
Wanda tilts her head slightly. "You sound unsure."
"Yes," you say in autopilot, "I meanâno. I am sure." You let out an awkward laugh under your breath out of embarrassment.
A quiet little laugh escapes Wanda before she can stop it, soft enough that it almost catches you off guard while she watches you struggle to recover from the question.
And somehow your embarrassment gets worse.
"Wow," he says, placing a hand dramatically against his chest. "You hesitated like I'm not sitting right here."
You immediately turn toward him, horrified. "Tony!"
"What? I'm just saying," he continues, clearly entertained now. "That answer was disrespectful to my entire career."
You just laugh again and when you look straight ahead again, you catch the last trace of Wanda's smile. Beautiful, your mind supplies before you can stop it. You become suddenly aware that you've been staring a fraction too long. You clear your throat softly and glance away. When you look back, Wanda is already watching you again with that same unreadable attentiveness, though something gentler lingers beneath it now.
She rises smoothly from the couch, straightening the sleeves of her uniform. "I think we're done for now," she says. "Shall I check where I'm staying?"
"Yeah, of course." Tony stands immediately.
You guide her through the quieter hallway of the house toward the guest suite prepared for her. Wanda walks beside the two of you calmly, her attention moving across the walls of the room, the lighting, the architectureâtaking in everything without ever seeming intrusive.
Wanda sets her bag down near the bed and nods once after checking the whole place. "Thank you. We'll begin medical collection shortly."
The tests are somehow worse than the questions. It was clinical, humiliating, and entirely too personal.
Tony goes first, trying to make light of it the entire time while Wanda records. Then it's your turn.
You swear the embarrassment burns hotter beneath Wanda's quiet observation than the actual procedures themselves. She remains perfectly professional through all of it, calm and composed while you try not to think too hard about the fact that you are peeing with a woman one meter away from you.
After the tests when you finally see your husband, he reaches for your hand. "Well," he murmurs under his breath, "this officially beats every weird thing we've ever survived together."
A small laugh escapes you despite yourself.
"Hey," he says softly.
You look up just as his hand slides around your waist, pulling you gently closer. Your hands settle against his shirt automatically, fingers curling into the fabric as he leans down to kiss you.
Tony's hand cups your jaw briefly, thumb brushing your cheek while you melt into him without thinking. Then his other hand settles at your waist and suddenly the kiss deepens just enough to steal your breath.
Then there's a movement not far behind you. The two of you pull apart at the exact same time.
Wanda stands at the end of the hallway watching the two of you make out. For one horrible second, nobody speaks. Your entire body goes hot with embarrassment.
Tony blinks once. "Jesus Christâ"
"Please," Wanda says evenly from the hallway, "go on."
The words should probably make it better but good Lord they absolutely do not.
You feel your entire face burn as silence crashes down around the hallway. Whatever warmth had existed a second ago evaporates instantly.
Tony stares at Wanda for another beat like he's trying to decide whether to laugh or to kill her from cockblocking him.
"Yep," he says finally. "No, see, now it's weird."
For the first time, Wanda looks genuinely confused by that.
"You are married," she points out calmly.
"That's not the issue," Tony murmurs to himself.
Her gaze shifts between the two of you again, observant as ever. "Then what is? I need to observe every aspect of your relationship."
You clear your throat awkwardly and step forward from Tony, you're aware you have this one covered knowing your husband's patience is coming to its limit.
"We're going to bed," you say while massaging his arm to soothe him.
Wanda nods once, "Good night, then."
"Good night, thank you," you say quickly.
The second Wanda disappears back into her room, you groan softly.
"Oh my God."
Tony, on the other hand, seems like he's about to burst into madness but he is controlling it perfectly.
"Hey, on the bright side," you say, reaching for his hands gently, "at least we know she's thorough."
He shoots you a look. "That is not comforting."
"Sorry, honey." You smile.
Seeing you smile made his anger start to fade, he grinned faintly as he laced his fingers through yours and led you down the hall toward your shared bedroom.
"You okay?"
You nod after a second. "JustâŠoverwhelmed."
His expression softens immediately. "No more assessment tonight. Just us. No more weird shit."
"You knowâŠ" you say quietly once the room settles again, "she looks at me a lot."
Tony glances up from where he's taking off his shirt. "What do you mean?"
"She barely even looks at you sometimes. Even when the questions are directed to you." You pull your knees closer against your chest as you sit on the edge of the bed. "It's always me she's watching."
He thinks about it for a second before shrugging lightly. "Maybe she's just looking for your reaction to what I say."
"No," you murmur, shaking your head immediately. "Earlier during the medical tests too, she didn't even come inside while you were taking yours. But with me, she's literally just half meter away while I was peeing."
That finally makes him pause. "HoneyâŠmaybe it's because you're both woman?"
You stare at him hard. "But still," you say after a second, frowning slightly. "Privacy, you know?"
Tony huffs a quiet laugh through his nose. "Yeah, okay point on you, honey."
Your shoulders sink again though, anxiety creeping right back in. He notices immediately. Without saying anything else, he gently takes your wrist and pulls you farther onto the bed until you're sitting properly between his legs. His hands settle on your hips, grounding you there while he looks up at you patiently.
"What if she doesn't like me?" you ask suddenly.
Tony's expression softens at once.
"What if there's already a result?" you continue quietly, words spilling faster now. "What if she already decided something the second she walked in? What if we're doing everything wrong and I don't even realize it?"
"Hey." His hands tighten gently. "Look at me."
"I really want this," you whisper.
"I know."
"No, I really want this, Tony." Your voice shakes slightly now. "I want a child. I want a child I can call my own."
His grip tightens gently.
You look at him then, eyes already glassy with worry. "We're good, right?" you ask softly. "We deserve it."
The words come faster after that, like if you stop talking the fear will swallow you whole.
"We're stable. We've done everything they asked." Your fingers twist nervously in the fabric of his shirt. "We would be good parents."
Tony's face changes slowly as he listens not because he disagrees but because he hates hearing you sound like you need to convince someone. Especially him, he is not Wanda. He is not an assessor.
"You don't have to sell me on us," he says quietly.
But you keep going anyway.
"We deserve this," you whisper again, almost like you're trying to make it true by saying it out loud. "Don't we?"
Tony's hands move up to cradle your face immediately.
"Hey." His voice is firmer now, enough to make you really look at him. "There is nobody on this planet more deserving of being a mother than you. You are kind, patient, ridiculously loving, and honestly the only reason this house feels like a home instead of a tech bunker."
A small breath escapes you. Your husband leans closer.
"And if that assessor can't see how incredible you are, then she's bad at her job."
And for the first time that night, the fear in your chest eases just a little.
What you don't know is that the door didn't fully close. Enough for your voices to slip through into the hallway. Wanda came back quietly to lurk on the two of youâit's a part of her jobâto hear everything.
She stands there quietly outside your room, she looks back toward the crack in the door. She watches you, the way you fidget his shirt, the way you rests on your husband's lap, the way you lean into him without thinking.
Her jaw tightens faintly; she doesn't know at what.
Carefully, she steps back from the door and walks away down the hallway.
ᱏ
You wake up early the next morning. Way too early, honestly. Tony's still asleep beside you, face half buried in the pillow, completely unaware that your brain has already been spiraling for the last twenty minutes. You stare at the ceiling for a second before finally getting up.
Because now it feels real. The assessment starts today and you don't know what to expect.
You throw on one of Tony's sweaters and head downstairs, deciding to make breakfast. The kitchen is quiet except for the soft sounds of coffee brewing and the knife against the cutting board while you prepare fruit. You keep catching yourself fixing things that don't need fixing. Straightening plates and wiping already clean counters.
You glance up immediately when you hear footsteps.
Wanda walks into the kitchen looking like she just woke up, hair slightly messy, wearing a dark jacket and loose pants instead of that assessor outfit from yesterday. Somehow she looks softer like thisâless intimidating.
"Hi, good morning," your voice comes out all soft and warm without you even thinking about it.
Wanda blinks at you. Her eyes stay on you for a second too long and something about your voice catches her completely off guard. Her chest tightens unexpectedly, heart skipping once before she can control it, it's stupid. Then she just nods once and sits at the table without saying anything. The silence after that feels ridiculously loud.
You suddenly become hyperaware of everything you're doing. The way you move, the way you pour coffee. The fact that she's sitting there watching quietly while you try very hard to act normal.
And the worst part? You can't tell anymore if you're making breakfast because you want to or because you want her to think you'd make a good mother.
Wanda sits quietly at the table while you move around the kitchen making breakfast. You place the bowl of freshly cut fruit in front of her carefully. She watched everything you did, how you glance at her every few seconds like you're trying to figure out what she's thinking.
Then came your husband. You immediately look up toward him and Wanda sees it happen in real time. Your whole face changes.
Your eyes light up before Tony even fully walks into the kitchen. Your shoulders relax instantly, like your body finally stopped being tense the second he appeared.
"Morning, honey," you say softly.
Tony barely even says good morning before walking straight to you, pressing a lazy kiss against your temple while stealing a strawberry from the cutting board.
"Morning, pretty girl."
You laugh quietly and shove at him with your hip while he grins like he's proud of himself.
And Wanda feels something ugly spark low in her chest. Hot and sudden enough that it almost pisses her off. She can't stop staring at the way you look at Tony. And the worst part is realizing she wants that look directed at her too not the nervous smiles you give her because she's the assessor. She doesn't like you being so careful and polite. She sat quietly at the table while you moved around the kitchen finishing up plates and Tony hovered nearby, stealing pieces of fruit and pretending he was helping.
"You know there are easier ways to get attention," you mumble when he steals another strawberry.
Tony grins immediately. "Yeah, but this one gets you to look at me."
You roll your eyes so hard it almost makes him laugh. Then he turns your face slightly toward him and kisses you.
That's when it starts.
SLAM.
The sound cracks through the kitchen hard enough that both you and Tony jump apart immediately. You turn around fast, Wanda is sitting at her chair gripping the bowl of fruit tightly in both hands. And then she slams it against the table again.
You blink in complete shock. "Wandaâ?"
She doesn't answer. Her face is tight, jaw clenched, eyes fixed downward at the bowl while she keeps hitting it against the table over and over again. The fruits you prepared for her were flying everywhere.
Tony straightens instantly beside you. The joking mood disappears from his face immediately now that he recognizes what's happening.
Assessment behavior, regression testing. The assessor acting out emotionally the way a difficult child would to test parental responses under stress.
"Wanda," you say again but nothing. She just slams it again.
Your husband has gone quiet behind you now, watching carefully, but before he can say anything you move closer and gently grab Wanda's wrists to stop her from doing it again.
"Wanda, no."
Wanda slowly looks up at you.
"Slamming food around isn't nice," you tell her firmly. "We don't do that."
The whole kitchen goes silent. Even Tony looks a little surprised hearing you sound like thatâfirm and strict. But what catches you off guard is Wanda's face, her eyes start glossing over.
Your grip on her wrists softens immediately. "HeyâŠI am not mad," you say softer this time. "Okay?"
For a second, you think she's going to pull away completely or snap again. Instead, she suddenly leans forwardâright into you. You let out a tiny sound of surprise when her forehead nudges against your neck, arms stiff at first like she didn't fully mean to do it either. The movement feels awkward and desperate at the same time.
You freeze, eyes immediately flick toward Tony. He's still standing near the counter watching the two of you carefully, he gives you a small nod to go aheadâthat you are doing great. And slowly, carefully, you wrap your arms around Wanda.
For a second, Wanda just stays there against you and then suddenly she pulls away so fast it catches you completely off guard. She pushes at your shoulders hard enough to make you stumble back before immediately turning around.
"Wandaâ?"
But she's already running straight out of the kitchen like an overstimulated kid.
"You haven't finished your fruits!"
Her footsteps thunder in the hallway.
You just stand there blinking for a second, still trying to process what the hell just happened. Your husband looks equally stunned.
Tony snorts immediately, dragging a hand down his face while trying not to laugh. "She absolutely just toddler-ran away from you."
You cover your mouth, half shocked, half trying not to laugh too. "Should we check on her?" you ask carefully.
Tony sighs dramatically. "See? This is what I mean. You already sound like a parent."
ᱏ
Having a grown adult act as your child turns out to be way harder and weirder than either you or Tony expected.
Because it's not just the tantrums.
It's everything else.
It's Wanda following you around the house constantly like she's waiting for attention every second of the day. If the two of you are talking too long without including her, suddenly she's there hovering nearby with crossed arms and an annoyed expression. If your husband hugs you for more than ten seconds, Wanda somehow appears out of nowhere looking irritated.
And the messes.
God, the messes.
At one point she leaves half-empty cups everywhere around the tower like she physically does not understand how tables work. You walk into the living room and there's socks on the couch, one shoe near the stairs, and somehow yogurt spilling on the counter that nobody remembers seeing her eat.
Tony stands there staring at the disaster one afternoon looking genuinely exhausted.
"How," he says slowly, "does one person create this much chaos in under twelve hours?"
You're trying not to laugh while picking up Wanda's abandoned sweater from the floor. "This is part of the test too."
"Honey, if it is, I'm failing emotionally."
Then there's the attention thing where Wanda constantly needs attentionâyour attention. And your husband notices it before you do.
At first he thinks maybe he's imagining it. Wanda's an assessor, after all. Observing you more closely could just mean she's focusing on your emotional responses because you're more expressive than he is.
But then it keeps happening.
If you leave the room, Wanda somehow ends up leaving too a few minutes later. If you're working in the greenhouse, she's suddenly sitting nearby pretending to read while very obviously watching you work. If you're cooking, she appears in the kitchen. If you're folding laundry, Wanda's somehow sitting on the bed looking quietly while you do it.
And the weirdest part? She barely interacts with Tony unless she has to. One afternoon Tony walks into the living room and finds Wanda sitting on the floor beside the couch while you braid little pieces of her hair absentmindedly because she asked if you knew how. The second Tony enters, Wanda visibly shifts away from himânot dramatically but enough that he notices and you don't.
Later that night, after you put Wanda to bed, Tony finally brings it up.
"Honey."
You look up from your book. "Hm?"
"Remember when you brought up thatâŠthe assessor was looking at you all the time?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, I think she likes you more than me."
You blink immediately. "What?"
Tony flops dramatically onto the bed beside you. "She follows you around like a lost cat."
"She does not."
"She absolutely does." He points toward the door. "Yesterday you went to get water and she appeared in the kitchen thirty seconds later with absolutely no reason to be there."
"She was probably thirsty."
"She was holding an empty mug upside down."
You try not to laugh.
Tony rolls onto his side to look at you properly now. "No, seriously. Have you noticed she barely talks to me unless you're involved in the conversation?"
You think about it for a second. "She's not rude to you though," you say carefully.
"Yes, because she doesn't talk to me at all. Honey, earlier I asked her how she slept and she looked at you before answering."
That actually makes you laugh.
Tony squints at you immediately. "Don't encourage her weird little attachment issues."
"I'm not!"
"You absolutely are. Every time she acts emotionally unstable, you pet her like a nervous rescue animal."
"She likes affection. And hey, don't call her a pet, she's acting as our daughter."
"She likes your affection." He clarified, the teasing in his voice fades slightly after that.
"She's probably attached to me because I'm kind ofâŠher mom right now, you know?" You start rambling a little when he doesn't answer immediately. "I meanânot literally obviouslyâbut here she's acting as the child and I'm the maternal figure, so maybe that's why she follows me around more." You shrug lightly. "Kids usually get more attached to whoever comforts them the most."
"She's emotionally manipulative," Tony insists.
"She's emotional like a kid," you argue back immediately.
"She slammed fruit at us."
"This is just a test, honey." You say as if the entire thing barely bothered you, effectively ending the conversation.
ᱏ
The next morning begins with FRIDAY announcing a delivery downstairs. Your husband circles it slowly with his coffee.
"There is absolutely no reason a play pen should come in a box this big."
You're already trying not to laugh. Watching Tony Stark get intimidated by toddler furniture is easily one of the funniest things you've ever seen.
"It looked smaller online," you defend weakly.
"Honey, small countries have less infrastructure than this."
Nearby, Wanda watches quietly over the rim of her mug, you made her milk and cookies for breakfast. The atmosphere between all three of you feels different after days have passedâsofter somehow.
Tony dramatically slices the box open. The second it falls apart, metal bars, fabric panels, connectors, and approximately a thousand screws spill across the floor.
He freezes. "Why does it have this many parts?"
You unfold the instruction manual and immediately regret it. It looks less like furniture instructions and more like an engineering blueprint.
Tony stares at it in disbelief. "This is not a play pen. This is an exam."
"We're assembling it together," you tell him. "No FRIDAY."
He sighs dramatically and drops to the floor beside the parts. "Fine. Let's start building this child prison unit."
"It's a play pen." You correct him.
"That's exactly what she wants you to think." Your husband whispers to you while secretly looking at your assessor, you gave him a jab before settling beside him.
Wanda quietly observes from a distance. But over time she unconsciously drifts closerâfirst leaving the armchair for the couch, then eventually ending up on the floor nearby while Tony argues with the instructions.
You hand Tony screws while he assembles panels, leaning against his shoulder to check the instructions while Wanda still watches closely. Every now and then you catch her staring at you absentmindedly whenever you smile or laugh.
Tony notices tooâespecially when he reaches across you for a screwdriver and Wanda visibly stiffens before relaxing once he pulls away.
It's subtle, but impossible to miss now.
After nearly an hour, Tony finally stands proudly. "There," he declares. "Perfect engineering."
And the entire left side immediately collapses inward with a horrible metallic crash.
Tony stares at the wreckage like he's been personally betrayed. Soon the play pen collapses for the third time, leaving the living room looking like a battlefield of toddler furniture and wounded pride. Tony sits surrounded by screws and metal bars, glaring at the instructions.
"This thing hates me personally," he mutters.
"You attached the panels backwards."
"They should've adapted."
"Honey, that's not how engineering works."
"Says who?"
"The laws of physics?"
Tony opens his mouth to argue, but stops the second you lean closer to fix one of the connectors. His whole expression softens immediately when you smile at him, you are so calm and patient. And that smile of yours? That's his weakness.
Wanda notices that. She's been noticing it all morning. At first she tried ignoring it. Then she tried focusing on the assessment. She even tried helping with the play pen for about four minutes before Tony accidentally called her "kiddo" and irritated her again.
Now she's sitting nearby watching the two of you together while something hot and restless twists in her chest every time your attention drifts back to Tony.
Before either of you can react, Wanda suddenly gets up, walks over, and drops down beside youâresting her head directly in your lap.
You freeze and Wanda doesn't look embarrassed at all. She just curls slightly against your side, staring at the broken play pen with the most exhausted expression imaginable.
"Hungry," she mutters.
The silence afterward is deafening. Then she nudges closer against your stomach like an upset child refusing to ask for comfort properly.
"I'm hungry, mommy," she repeats quieter this time.
Without even realizing it, your fingers start moving gently through her hair.
"Okay, sweetheart," you say softly, brushing hair away from Wanda's face. "I'll make food." The words come out so naturally you don't even think about them.
You guide Wanda up gently by the wrist and she follows without resistance, looking at you like she's waiting for something more than instructions.
"I'll be in the kitchen," you call to Tony while leading her out.
Tony looks up from the destroyed play pen parts scattered everywhere. He watches the two of you for a second too long.
"Yeah," he says slowly. "Okay."
You don't notice the tone since you're already focused on Wanda.
But Tony stays sitting there after you leave, staring at the empty space where you both were. Something about this suddenly feels off to him. Just this small, uncomfortable feeling in the back of his head that he can't quite name yet. He glances toward the kitchen doorway where you disappeared. He can still hear your voice faintly in there, calm and easy, talking to her like it's nothing. Wanda's answering too, quieter, more contained, like she only needs to be loud or difficult when she's not with you.
"It's just her job," he mutters to himself, like he's trying to convince his own brain.
But even as he says it, he's not fully buying it anymore. Because whatever is going on doesn't feel like assessment behavior alone.
And the worst part is, he can't exactly point to why it feels personal.
ᱏ
You're up early the next morning, already settled into a routine that feels dangerously domestic. Pancakes cook on the stove while you cut fruit into neat little pieces for Wanda without even thinking about it anymore. Tony's coffee is already brewing behind you, exactly how he likes it, strong and slightly too bitter for normal people.
It feelsâŠdomestic in a way that's starting to feel too normal.
You're reaching for another plate when arms suddenly wrap around your waist from behind.
Warm weight presses against your back. A face nuzzles lightly into your neck. You smile instantly, already assuming it's Tony. He does this all the time when he's half awake and clingy in the mornings.
"Good morning to you too," you murmur with a laugh, still slicing fruit.
The arms tighten slightly around your stomach. You lean back into it automatically.
"Coffee's almost ready," you say softly.
You feel a warm, hard bulge press firm against the curve of your ass through your thin sleep shorts. You huff a soft laugh and grind back playfully against it, the hands splayed wide on your hips suddenly tighten their grip, fingers digging in just a little harder. Wanda's still asleep, you think, so you and Tony could squeeze in a little quickie before she wakes up. You were about to tilt your head back to turn for a kiss only to see a pair of bright green orbs meet your gaze, warm and hungry. You jump back hard, your elbow knocking a fruit bowl on the counter.
It's Wanda.
You immediately pull away. "Wandaâ!"
"Hi, mommy," she says casually, almost confused by your reaction.
For a second she just stares at you, hands hovering awkwardly in the air after being pushed away.
You gulp hard and you drag your gaze slowly down from her face to her pajamas. You swear you felt a hard bulge pressed firm against your ass seconds ago. But you just convinced yourself that maybe it's just the way her shirt is slightly tucked in inside her pants. Or maybe you were just freaking horny that you felt ashamed.
You force yourself to breathe. "Hi," you say shakily. "I'm sorryâI thought it was your dad."
She stares at you for a second too long, jaw tightening slightly while her gaze flicks toward the hallway behind you like she suddenly hates the fact Tony exists somewhere in the house at all.
You didn't notice it, of course you wouldn't. "Okay," you murmur softly as you pull back. "Come on."
You guide her gently toward the dining table by the wrist, trying to act normal even though your heart is still racing. Wanda sits without complaint while you return to the counter, keeping your hands busy like that'll somehow steady you again.
Breakfast is already halfway through when Tony finally wakes up.
"So, our friends are coming over later."
You pause mid-cutting your fruit and look at him. "Tonight?"
"Yeah," he shrugs. "Just the gang."
Tony glances at Wanda, then leans back slightly in his chair.
"And Wanda," he adds, tone lighter but clearly intentional, "you can behave, right?" He stopped adding some pet names because he realizes that it just makes her act up, only you can do that.
Wanda doesn't look up and just keeps eating. Like she either didn't hear him or decided she didn't need to answer.
Your husband waits a beat. Then another. "That's not exactly reassuring," he mutters under his breath, mostly to you.
You feel him getting frustrated so you try diverting the atmosphere, "So Steve, Bucky, and Clint, right?"
By the time the conversation really starts to heat up, you've already moved to the bedroom.
"So Pepper's coming too?" you asked very seriously.
Tony looks up like it's the most normal thing in the world. "Yeah."
Your brows lift immediately. "I thought you cut off Pepper."
Tony exhales, already sensing where this is going. "We didn't cut her off. We justâ"
"No, I cut her off. I stopped talking to her," you cut in.
"We took space."
"Wow, a fucking space? After you fucked each other behind my back?" you say flatly and straight up.
Tony groans, dragging a hand down his face. "It's been so long, Y/N why do you keep bringing it up!"
You don't answer immediately because there's nothing new to say anymore.
You've had this conversation too many times already. You've told him exactly why it still hurts. And every single time, it ends the same wayâhim calling it a mistake, saying it only happened once, reminding you that you're the one he married.
Like that's supposed to erase what it did to you? Like betrayal becomes smaller just because he chose to stay afterward?
And the way he talks about it now, so casuallyâso carefully reasonable. Making you look as the irrational one for still carrying it when he's already decided it's in the past.
You just look at him for a second, completely still with nothingness.
Wanda moves quickly the moment she hears your bedroom door open again. She steps out a few paces from your door like she was just passing by, not standing there and literally eavesdropping on your argumentâjust casually existing in the right place at the right time.
The moment you see her, your expression softens immediately. Whatever heaviness was sitting on your shoulders a second ago dulls just enough when your attention lands on her instead.
"Hey," you say quietly.
"Hi, mommy," Wanda smiles, hoping she would see you smile as well.
"Do you want to help me cook?"
Something shifts in Wanda instantly. She'd been waiting for that exact kind of attention without knowing how to ask for it herself. She nods once, her smile widening softly.
By the time the front door chimes and FRIDAY announces your guests have arrived, the entire house smells like food.
Steve is the first one through the door, and the moment you see him, you smile automatically. "Hey, Steve," you say softly, stepping forward to hug him briefly.
"Good to see you," he replies warmly, squeezing your shoulder once before pulling back.
Bucky comes in right after him, quieter but just as familiar.
"Hi, Bucky," you greet with an easy smile, and he gives you one of his small rare smiles back.
"Hey, doll," he says softly.
"Okay, I better see snacks or I'm leaving," Clint announces immediately, and before you can even respond he's already pulling you into a hug. You laugh into it, arms wrapping around him just as easily as always.
"Hi to you too," you mumble.
Behind him is Nathaniel, a little older now but still clearly Clint's kid in the way he walks in looking curious and slightly chaotic. You crouch a little to greet him properly, smiling. "Hey, Natty boy," you say, and he grins back at you, already looking around like he's planning something.
"Is there still that room with the weird training stuff?" he asks immediately.
Clint groans. "Please don't encourage him."
You laugh, standing back up just as the last person walks in.
Pepper.
The energy shifts slightly the moment you see her.
You feel that small tightening in your chest that you can't quite ignore. You straighten a little anyway, polite instinct taking over.
"Hey," you say.
Pepper smiles. "Hi."
And that's it.
Behind you, Tony moves in smoothly, greeting everyone like there's no tension in the air at all, pulling Steve and Bucky into conversation, clapping Clint on the shoulder, immediately slipping into host mode like he wasn't just arguing with you earlier in the bedroom.
And then Pepper.
Your husband's posture shifts slightly when he sees her. He was very careful.
"Pepper," he says.
"Tony," she replies just as evenly.
There's a beat where they just look at each other. Not long enough for anyone else to comment on it. But long enough for you to feel it and then it's over.
"Glad you could make it," Tony adds smoothly, already shifting his attention to the next person in the room.
"Of course," Pepper says.
Tony turns slightly like he's about to call you over, say something casual, include you in the flow of the group again. But you don't wait for it. You just step back a little instead, turning away from the cluster of people and heading toward the kitchen like it's the most natural thing in the world to do.
Everyone's finally settled in the living room now. The usual chaos of arrivals has softened into background noiseâSteve and Bucky talking on one side, Clint already halfway through whatever food he managed to steal from the kitchen, Nathaniel wandering around like he's inspecting the place, and Pepper sitting a little more reserved near the edge of the group, polite smile on but not really inserting herself into anything yet.
Tony is in the middle of it all, as usual, switching between conversations like it's second nature. You're sitting on a couch just watching everyone exist in the same space, trying to mentally keep track of everything still left to do.
Then Wanda appears.
She doesn't announce herself or anything. Just steps into the living room, eyes scanning the room slowly. There's a brief pause in conversation when your friends notice her.
You straighten slightly without thinking and step forward a bit.
"Ohâyeah," you say, voice a little lighter as you gesture toward her. "Guys, this is Wanda, our assessor."
Steve nods first, polite as always. "Hey."
Bucky gives her a short, quiet look of acknowledgment. Clint pauses mid-bite like he's trying to decide if this is a new threat or not. Pepper just watches carefully and smiles.
Wanda just takes a step further into the room, eyes moving briefly across each person before landing back on you for a second too long. Then she gives you a small, polite smile.
You smile at her automatically, soft and familiar that it has become second nature now. Behind you, the conversations pick up again slowly, people adjusting to her presence.
She quietly settles beside you on the couch, close enough that her knee brushes yours. Honestly, it feels easier and safer this way. You already have a plate ready for her before she even sits down, and without really thinking about it, you slip right back into taking care of her automatically. You pull her water closer when she doesn't reach for it herself, fix the napkin on her lap after it slips, feed her bites between conversations when she gets distracted looking around the room.
It's become disturbingly natural now.
Across the room, Steve watches the whole thing with slightly raised brows while Clint mutters something under his breath to Bucky about how you've fully entered "mom mode." Tony only shakes his head with a tired little smile, though there's something more thoughtful underneath it now whenever he watches how attached Wanda has become to you.
Then you notice Wanda staring at your drink.
Her eyes stay fixed on the wine glass in your hand while you continue half-listening to Steve talking about something across the room. Earlier, when she asked what it was, you'd casually lied and said it was juice. Apparently that was a mistake.
Wanda lightly tugs at your sleeve.
You look down immediately. "Hm?"
Her eyes flick toward your glass again. "Mommy, can I have your juice?"
"Oh no, baby," you say quickly, gently moving the wine glass farther away from her reach. "This one's only for mommies."
Wanda blinks slowly. "Because it's special juice?"
"Yeah, sweetheart, mommy needs this juice to survive tonight."
She surprisingly didn't push after that. But then she stands up and suddenly starts walking around.
You call for her. "Wanda?"
She keeps going, slow and casual. She circles the coffee table once, still munching her food as she moves. You stare for a second, before getting up as well.
"Hey, sweetheart, come sit back down," you call, voice gentle but confused.
Tony looks over from across the room, already noticing the shift. "Is sheâŠdoing laps?"
You ignored him and Tony took that as a sign that you're still mad at him.
She turns slightly and glances at you, but then continues walking again like she heard you but decided it wasn't relevant.
That's when it fully turns into chaos.
Because now you're following her around the living room, still trying to feed her, still calling her name in this irritating tone while she just keeps movingâaround Steve's chair, past Clint's feet, behind the couch, completely unbothered. At one point she even slows down just enough for you to catch up, take another bite from the spoon you are holding, and then immediately starts walking again.
"Man, I didn't know that this assessment shit is hard but I think you should help your wife." Steve says to Tony, taking pity on how you have been trying to catch Wanda.
"Okay," you say softly, trying to keep your tone calm even though you're very aware that your friends are watching this unfold. "Wanda, come back."
All of a sudden Bucky steps into Wanda's path near the hallway, blocking her next lap around.
"Hey," he says evenly, crouching slightly so he's more in her line of sight. "Listen to your mom, alright? Sit down and eat."
Wanda just stared at him very hard before shoving him. Bucky stumbles backward from the unexpected force and the side of Wanda's head clips sharply against his mouth as she jerks away from him at the same time.
"Shitâ"
Bucky immediately grabs his lip, stepping back as the metallic scent of blood hits the air almost instantly.
"BuckâŠ"
The bowl in your hands is forgotten instantly as you rush toward him. Bucky's already pressing the back of his hand against his mouth.
"Let me see," you say quickly, gently pulling his hand away from his lip.
There's a small split at the corner, already bruising dark around the edge, a thin streak of blood against his skin. Not serious for someone like Bucky, probably gone in a day for him, but the sight still makes your chest tighten anyway.
"Oh my God," you murmur softly. "I'm so sorry."
Bucky shakes his head immediately. "Hey, it's okay," he says, voice calmer, "I'm fine, doll don't worry."
But you're already fussing over him instinctively, brows pulled together with genuine guilt, completely focused on him for the moment.
There was never actually anything between you two. Never crossed lines, no betrayal. But years ago, before you and Tony got married, before everything settled into what it is now, Bucky had admitted onceâquietly, honestlyâthat he had feelings for you.
He never pushed after that. Never made it weird, never tried to come between you and Tony.
But sometimes, in moments like this, there are still traces of it in the way he looks at you when you're worried about him.
"You're bleeding," you whisper, clearly upset.
Bucky gives a tiny smile despite the cut. "Pretty sure I've survived worse than an angry girl with a spoon."
Normally that would make you laugh. But now you're just ashamed of what just happened.
And Wandaâthe suspectâis staring completely still in the kitchen doorway. Watching your hands on Bucky's face. Watching the way your friend is looking at you back and his hands unintentionally settling on your hips. Her expression doesn't change much outwardly, but her eyes do. Something ugly twists sharply in her chestâjealousy hits so hard it almost feels physical.
And Tony notices that, too. Because while everyone else is focused on Bucky's split lip, Tony catches the look on Bucky's face first. And suddenly he feels it as well. Not jealousy exactly, it is something more complicatedâthreat.
Because he remembers. Of course he remembers.
Bucky admitting that he had feelings for you for years had nearly destroyed him at the time. Because he can still remember it clearly as the day that Bucky was the man your family had wished you'd ended up with, especially after he cheated and you still chose to take him back despite everyone telling you he didn't deserve a second chance. And now, watching you run toward him gets under his skin immediately.
Tony moves before he can think too much about it.
"I got it," he says suddenly, already grabbing your arm.
You yanked your arm away that even Bucky was stunned. Tony just steps in close, like he's taking over the situation now, but the second your eyes meet his, something inside you hardens again.
You just remember the bedroom argumentâPepper and everything unresolved sitting between you two.
Your attention goes right back to Bucky. "I'm really sorry," you whisper again, still guilty, "I will get you an ice pack."
Bucky gives you that same soft look despite the bruise forming on his lip that looked like he got into a bar fight.
"It's okay, doll, thank you," he murmurs quietly.
The petname lands badly in the room. Tony's jaw tightens almost instantly. Everyone notices but you barely react because your brain has already moved to Wanda.
After getting some ice pack and handing it to Buck, you immediately find Wanda in the living room. She's beside Pepper again. She is not just sitting near herâpressed against her side so closely that Pepper is practically leaning away without trying to make it obvious. Wanda's shoulder keeps bumping into her arm every few seconds, her knee pushed against the woman's leg.
Pepper looks up the second she notices you looking and the relief in her expression is immediate. Because she's been trying to tolerate this on her own while the rest of the room awkwardly pretended not to stare.
"She came back," Pepper says carefully, trying to keep her voice even. "I thought she finallyâŠbehaved."
You're already walking toward them before she finishes talking.
"Wanda," you call gently, trying not to sound frustrated even though you can feel exhaustion starting to sit heavy in your bones now.
Wanda doesn't answer.
She just keeps staring down at her plate for a second too long. Then suddenlyâshe drags the spoon harshly across it. Food splatters immediately. A wet smear landing across Pepper's sleeve and lap.
She jerks back with a startled sound. "Fuckâ"
But before anyone can react properly, Wanda does it again. This time it was worse. Her hand pushes directly into the food, shoving fruit and sauce over the edge of the plate carelessly until it spills across Pepper's clothes, the couch, even onto the floor.
Steve and Clint look genuinely shocked.
Tony's already walking again from across the room, tension written all over his face now.
"Wanda," you say more firmly now, stepping directly in front of her. "Enough."
That finally makes her pause.
"Okayâno, this is getting out of hand!" Pepper interrupts, shifting forward as she brushes food off her sleeve. "I don't know what this is supposed to be, but this is notâthis is not acceptable behavior."
But you barely even hear her anymore because your attention is completely on Wanda. Your hand clamped around Wanda's wrist before she could even move away. You grabbed a napkin and wiped sauce from the corner of Wanda's mouth yourself, then cleared every dish off her lap in one swift motion.
Pepper kept yelling but it blurred into background noise until finally, your patience snapped.
"You're never gonna be a fit mom!"
Maybe it was the wine sitting warm in your system making your patience thinner than usual or the years of resentment toward this woman who'd inserted herself between you and your husband. Or maybeâŠit was the phrase that she just said a couple of seconds ago. Your palm connected sharply across Pepper's faceâthe sound cracking through the living room.
Her hand flew to her stinging cheek. Her eyes wide with shock, then burning with rageâlocked onto you.
"Y/N!" Tony shouted, at first you thought he was gonna run towards you but instead she ran towards Pepper.
A small smirk slowly pulled at your lips then. You gave this tiny nod to yourself, eyes lingering on the two of them. Without another glance at them, at Pepperâwho was still shouting behind you now, voice cracking into something almost hystericalâor at Tony whose face had gone completely pale, you tightened your grip around Wanda's wrist and walked straight out of the living room.
The hallway upstairs felt colder somehow, quieter, the muffled chaos downstairs fading the further you pulled Wanda away from it. Your heels hit hard against the floor while she followed silently behind you, allowing herself to be dragged.
"What you did wasn't nice," you suddenly snap the second you reach the hallway corner, finally turning toward her. Your voice comes out sharper than intended, strained and uneven from alcohol, anger, and frustration all mixing together into one ugly mess inside your chest.
Wanda says nothing, she just looks at you.
"You hurt my friend," you continue immediately, words starting to tumble out faster now. "You pushed Buck, you threw food everywhere, you kept acting out and everyone was trying so hard to be patient with youâ"
Your breathing shakes.
"And PepperâGod, Wanda, what was that downstairs?"
The irony of that question hits somewhere in the back of your mind considering you were the one who slapped Pepper in the end, but your emotions are too tangled right now to process your own guilt properly.
Maybe it's the wine talking.
Maybe it's heartbreak.
Maybe it's the fact that your entire marriage feels like it's cracking apart underneath your feet tonight and Wanda somehow became the easiest target to pour all that hurt onto.
"You can't just ruin everything whenever you're upset," you ramble on, voice quieter now but more emotional. "People get hurt. People get uncomfortable. And I'm trying so hard to help you and understand you but you keepâ"
Her eyes stay fixed on your face while tears gather helplessly in your eyes again, your hand violently wrapped around her wrist.
"You're hurting me."
The words immediately snap you back to reality.
"Oh my God," the faint scent of wine clings to your breath and your skin when you speak, subtle but noticeable enough this close. "Baby, I'm sorry."
You immediately pull her into your arms before thinking too hard about it, hugging her tightly against your chest. The second your arms wrap around her, Wanda melts into you almost instantly, like she'd been manipulating you to do exactly that. Even though she wasn't really hurt.
"I'm sorry," your voice shakes, tears threatening against your eyes. You are drunk, emotional and exhausted and barely holding yourself together anymore. "Tonight's justâŠbad. Okay? Mommy's just having a bad night."
Her arms slowly slide around your waist beneath the embrace, holding onto you quietly while you continue rubbing her back like you're trying to comfort both of you at once.
"Come on," you whisper gently.
You slowly guide her down the hallway toward her room. The moment you step inside, you close the door behind you with a soft click. You immediately turn away from Wanda and head toward the dresser to somewhat avoid her, you feel ashamed and guilty for pouring your anger out on her.
Your fingers fumbled slightly against the drawer handle as you pulled it open harder than intended. Your movements feel slower now, heavier somehow, and you suddenly realize just how much the alcohol has settled into your system.
But still you kept moving.
Back to the bathroom. Open the dresser. Grab clothes. Back to the bedroom. Towel. Pajamas. Watergun toys, is that even needed? You pace around like if you stop for even one second, everything from tonight is going to hit you all at once.
"The bathtub's done," you say shakily, embarrassed as you rub tiredly at your forehead. "You can go in now, sweetie."
"Will you come too?"
For a second you genuinely don't understand the question.
Your brain feels slow now, the alcohol humming through your system only makes the numbness worse, wrapping everything in this warm hazy fog that keeps pulling you away from reality every few seconds. You stare at Wanda while confusion twists inside your chest again.
Is this still part of the test?
"Mommy?" The sound of Wanda's voice pulls you back immediately.
You blink hard and finally look at her.
Of course it is. You need to bathe your child.
"Yeah, sure sweetie, of course."
When you finally stepped into the bathroom again, Wanda was already sitting inside the bathtub, water high against her chest while steam curled softly around her.
You carefully stepped closer, but the second your foot hit the wet tile, you almost slipped.
"Whoaâ"
Wanda caught you immediately.
Her hands grabbed your arm from inside the tub to steady you. The sudden contact made you flinch automatically again, your whole body tensing for half a second before you caught yourself.
And Wanda felt it.
You laughed nervously, "Sorry," you mumbled softly.
Still holding your arms carefully, Wanda guided you closer until you finally sat down on the edge of the bathtub.
And somehow your heart is beating faster than it was. Your fingers tightened unconsciously around the edge of the bathtub while Wanda stayed close between your knees in the water, eyes fixed on your face.
Then suddenly, her hands pressed lightly against your legs.
You almost shrieked just as Wanda gently pushed your knees farther apart. She looked up at you quietly before settling there between your legs in the warm water, resting her cheek against your thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Your breath caught awkwardly in your throat at the position. So just to distract yourself you quickly reached for the shampoo bottle sitting nearby. You poured some shampoo into your palm before gently working it into Wanda's damp red hair, fingers moving carefully through the strands.
Wanda stayed quiet while you worked the shampoo slowly through her hair, warm water shifting softly around her in the tub. Your fingers moved lazily now, slower from the wine and exhaustion settling deeper into your body.
Then you felt her fingertips tracing absent little patterns against your thigh underneath the water.
After a long silence, she spoke softly.
"I'm sorry, mommy."
Your fingers paused briefly in her hair. "Hm?"
"The way I acted earlier." Her voice was quieter now, almost sulking. "With your friend."
You blinked down at her. For a second you almost forgot what she meant until Bucky flashed back into your head.
Wanda's fingers slowed against your thigh. "He just keeps touching you," she muttered softly. "And he calls you doll."
"What?" The wine in your system made an incredulous little giggle slip out of you before you could stop it. You shook your head a little while your fingers continued slowly working through her hair. "Baby, Bucky's my friend."
Wanda didn't laugh with you.
"You ran to him," she muttered after a second, almost sulking now. "And he touches you a lot, mommy."
Your smile weakened slightly at that. "Because he got hurt," you explained tiredly. "You pushed him pretty hard, sweetheart."
Her jaw tightened just slightly.
"But you always tense when I touch you."
The alcohol buzzing through your head made your reaction slower and another disbelieving little laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
Because suddenly the way she was looking at you didn't feel childish anymore. It didn't feel playful either.
"I...I'm just stressed," you whispered, lips trembling. "I'm sorry."
Wanda carefully climbed onto her knees on the porcelain tub so she could look at you properly. Her hands rested lightly against your legs to steady herself.
"Do you want to destress, mommy?"
The bathroom light gilds the soft edges of Wanda's hair where she kneels between your thighs. Your wine-warmed breath comes fast, gaze darting from her wide dark eyes down to her full, waiting lips. You swallow hard before you speak, voice thin and already giving out.
"IsâŠis this still just part of the test?"
"Whatever you want this to beâŠmommy."
Every instinct you have screams it at you. The assessment. The role you've been playing and the role Wanda has been playing. The way Wanda looks at you and the way you've started looking back. Somewhere along the way, the lines became so blurred that you stopped seeing where they were.
You were supposed to be proving you could build a family, that you're capable of taking care of a child. Now, you're losing yourself in the process.
Her lips seal over yours before you can answer, one palm sliding up to cup your breast through your dress, the other working open the buttons down your front slowly. She pushes your open dress back to bare your skin to the warm bathroom air, her mouth closing soft around one nipple while her hand kneads the other. Her full breasts press warm against your lower stomach as she leans in, sucking gentle, the quiet hum of her pleasure vibrating through your chest.
Your head falls back against the tiled wall, a soft, breathy moan spilling from your lips before you can bite it back.
She now shuffles lower and locks your legs separately between her arms. Her dark eyes lock on yours, hot and hungry, before she goes down and licks a slow, broad stroke up against your pussy.
Your back arches off the wall, a sharp shriek tearing out of you.
"Wanda!"
Her fingers dig soft into the flesh of your thighs to hold you open, mouth working slow and hungry against you. She flicks her tongue over your sensitive pussy in steady circles, groaning soft against your skin when your hands tangle tight in her hair, your hips jerking up against her face unbidden.
The stray thought nips at the edge of your fuzzy, pleasure-drunk brain, but it dissolves the second she sucks harder and harder. All you can hold onto is the heat coiling in your gut, the way your assessor feels between your legs, the assessment completely forgotten under the wave of what she's doing to you.
One minute you're braced against the cool porcelain tub, the next you're sinking into a soft mattress and warm sheets. Wanda's all over you, breaths hot against your face, every hard thrust forcing your cunt to clench tight around something you couldn't identify.
Your tits bounces as she fucks you, soft flesh jiggling with every move. She drops her mouth to suck a dark mark over your nipple, groaning low when you arch up into her, your hands tightening in her messy hair.
"You deserve this. You deserve to have a child of your own. Anyone would be lucky to have you as their mother."
All you can do is gasp out broken moans, her name and soft yeses tumbling out over and over, no matter what she says.
"And I get to be your little one first, don't I, mommy? Get to make you feel how good I can be for you."
She nips at the supple skin of your chest all the way to the base of your throat, voice rough and hungry.
The tight knot in your belly snaps a second later, white hot pleasure crashing over you so hard your vision whites out. The last thing you feel before you go limp and completely pass out is warm, thick liquid flooding deep inside you.
For a long moment, Wanda simply watches.
The room is dark, quiet except for the steady rhythm of your breathing. You look peaceful for the first time after everything that happened, completely unaware of the thoughts moving behind her eyes.
A strange smile slowly appears on her face. A certain kind of smile.
For the entire duration of the assessment, you had been nothing but sweet, patient, and understanding. You comforted her after every outburst. Wrapped your arms around her when she was upset. Spent your energy making sure she was okay while your own world was quietly falling apart around you. And somehow, no matter how exhausted or heartbroken you became, you never stopped taking care of her.
Because that's what every mothers do.
You spoke gently when she was difficult, stayed calm when she was disruptive, and offered comfort when it would have been easier to walk away. Even on the days when she pushed boundaries or when she made your life harder. Wanda tested every ounce of your self-control and you never truly gave up on her.
Just now.
"You really would do everything for your child," she whispers. "You don't even realize you're doing it already."
Her fingers brush a strand of hair from your face.
"You're going to be such a good mom."
ᱏ
You blink awake to the dull ache of numbness crawling up your forearm, the weight of something warm pressing down on it through the sheets. When you turned your head, your eyes widened as you stared at Wanda whose arms wrapped around your waist, your brain scrambling to remember how the hell you'd ended up hereânothing. Just a headache, a few blurry flashes from last night, and a growing sense of panic.
The last thing you can remember isâŠ
IsâŠ
What was the last thing you did last night?
You slipped out of the bed carefully, making sure not to wake Wanda. She was still asleep, curled beneath the blankets. You watched her for a moment before quietly leaving and made your way to your room. When you pushed open the door the first thing you noticed was that Tony wasn't there where you expected himâthe bed was untouched on one side. No sign he'd slept there at all. Your stomach tightened, but you forced yourself not to think about it. You moved toward the dresser, grabbing a fresh set of clothes before catching sight of yourself in the mirror.
You froze.
Just above your chest was a faint mark you didn't remember getting.
"What the hell?" you muttered.
Your fingers brushed over it instinctively. The second you did, something flashed through your mindâa fragment of a memory.
Warm water.
A voice.
A hand reaching toward you.
Then it was gone so fast you almost convinced yourself you only imagined it.
You immediately shoved the thought away and got dressed as quickly as you could. Whatever this isâit could all wait. Right now, you need to find your husband. The absence from his side of the bed was already making your stomach twist.
The moment you step downstairs, you are welcomed by a disaster. Dirty plates were still scattered around the living room and dining area, half-finished drinks abandoned on tables, remnants of last night's chaos left exactly where they had fallen. Nobody even had cleaned a thing.
Then your eyes landed on the kitchen counter.
Two glasses of wine.
You found yourself walking toward them before you could think better of it. One sat beside the other. Slowly, you picked one up. The second your eyes caught the faint lipstick stain smeared across the rim, something inside you dropped.
"Tony?" you called out as you stepped away from the counter, but still no answer came.
The silence felt heavier than it should have. Swallowing hard, you glanced around.
"FRIDAY, where's Tony?"
There was a brief pause before your husband's invention answered calmly.
"Tony departed at 11:43 PM last night. He accompanied Ms. Potts to take her home."
The thought hit you so hard you had to grip the counter.
A bitter laugh escaped you.
Instead of checking on his wife, he went with Pepper. The same woman who had already caused enough damage to your relationship. The same woman he once cheated on you with. Out of everyone in the house, that was the person he chose to accompany.
And what were you supposed to think about that? That it was innocent? That he was just being nice? That he somehow didn't realize how bad it looked?
You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. God, you always did. But standing there with the wine glass and the lipstick stain staring back at you, all you could think was that when you needed him most, Tony had chosen someone else.
Again.
For a second, you just stood there staring at nothing. It felt like everything was falling apart all over again.
You and Tony, the assessmentâthe future you had been fighting for. The dream of finally having a child with your husband after years of waiting, years of defending and choosing him, years of trying to build something stable enough to bring a family into. It suddenly felt like someone had grabbed that future and started tearing pieces off it right in front of you.
You pressed both hands against the counter as you tried to breathe. But the harder you tried to hold yourself together, the worse it got. Because you had done everything right? Every-fucking-thing.
A broken laugh escaped you before turning into a sob.
You could feel it building now. That horrible pressure in your chest. Your hands were shaking and your breathing was uneven. You were seconds away from crashing out right there in the kitchen but when you looked up you saw Wanda standing at the doorway. You wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, your voice cracking.
"Are we both needed to withdraw from the assessment?"
The assessment itself had been hard. God, it has been hard. It tested your patience, your marriage, your ability to keep going even when you felt like falling apart. You had poured so much of yourself into it because you wanted that future so badly. You wanted the child at the end of it. You wanted the family. But ending it? Ending it took less than five minutes. Somehow, that hurt more than anything else.
You sat across from Wanda in complete silence, the screen glowing in her hands as she handed it to you. Your eyes barely focused on the final confirmation prompt as your hand hovered over the screen. Wanda didn't say a word, she just watched. The room felt strangely still as you took a shaky breath and clicked CONFIRM. Just like that, it was over.
Wanda stared at the darkened screen for a long moment after you clicked the final confirmation.
"The assessment is over."
You nodded and didn't say a word.
Wanda watched you carefully. She looked down for a moment before nodding slowly. "I should probably start packing my things now."
This wasn't how Wanda imagined things would go. The assessment wasn't supposed to end this early and you definitely weren't supposed to be pulling the plug on it. Everything had gotten messy way too fast. Tony, Pepper, the withdrawalânone of it was part of the timeline she had in mind, well maybe Tony and Pepper was. But as disappointing as it was to see everything cut short, Wanda couldn't bring herself to be too upset about it. Because at the end of the day, the important part was already done. Whatever she needed to happen had already happened. The rest would unfold on its own.
Wanda quietly started packing her things upstairs while you stood in the kitchen feeling completely lost on what to do next. There were bigger problems waiting for youâTony, your marriage, the assessment you had just ended, the fact that you will never ever have a childâbut somehow your mind kept drifting back to the fact that Wanda was leaving. Somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, you'd grown attached to her. You felt like you and Wanda had connected in a way you hadn't expected, and now the thought of never seeing her again felt heavier than it probably should have.
You knew you should probably be downstairs cleaning up the disaster left behind from last night but instead, you found yourself lingering in Wanda's doorway before quietly offering to help her with her stuff. It was a simple excuse and you both probably knew it. The truth was you weren't ready for her to leave yet. You feel like there was still so much unresolved between the two of you or maybe you're just assuming.
You reminded yourself that she was a professional. An assessorâthis was her job. Everything that happened here was part of the assessment, part of a process she'd probably gone through dozens of times with other candidates before you. The connection you felt, the attachment, the comfort of having her aroundâit wasn't supposed to mean anything beyond that.
"Mrs. Stark, it's fine," Wanda said quietly, reaching for the shirt you were already folding.
"You're too formal," you said with a nervous little laugh, shaking your head as you continued folding one of her shirts.
Wanda paused what she was doing and looked up at you.
"Do you prefer when I call you mommy?"
Your fingers fumble the shirt you're holding, heat creeping up your neck fast, and Wanda just watches you, quiet and patient, her dark eyes soft but unblinking, waiting for your answer. You are suddenly very interested in organizing the contents of her bag.
"You would've been a good mom." She said all of a sudden.
The words almost broke you.
You laughed once, shakily, looking away before the tears could start again. "Doesn't really matter now, does it?"
Wanda wasn't supposed to do this. Once the assessment ended or withdrawn, assessors were meant to remain professional, detached, and impartial. They observed, recorded, and delivered resultsâthat was all. Comforting candidates wasn't part of the job description. Getting emotionally involved certainly wasn't. Yet as she sat across from you, she found herself doing exactly what she was never supposed to do.
"You'd still be a good mom." Wanda said quietly, and although something about the way she said it felt strange, you were too exhausted and heartbroken to think much of it, brushing the comment aside without realizing what she actually meant.
Because even now, with everything seemingly falling apart, Wanda knew things were moving exactly where she wanted them to go.
Like how she set the black silicone peeking out of her open duffel bag for you to see only for her to yank the bag shut, pulling the object out of your line of sight fast.
You blink hard a couple of times, squinting at the closed duffel sitting on the floor, wondering if the bright morning light tricked your eyes. You clear your throat awkwardly, words tumbling out nervous and fast. Your hands twisting in the hem of her folded shirt in your hands before putting it down.
"Iâuhm, I'll go now. I gotta fix all the mess downstairs."
You hear the sharp zip of her duffel opening behind you just as you reach the door. Her soft voice follows, warm and low.
"You looked tense. Wanna destress again?"
You turn, and she holds the unmistakingly black silicone strap-on out, tilting her head.
"Mommy?"
The memory ends there.
Or maybe your brain refuses to remember the rest.
Now, weeks later, you're standing in your bathroom with trembling hands, your mind completely blank as you stare at the impossible reality in front of you, not knowing what the hell you're supposed to do next.
FRIDAY has informed you that your recent biometric scans indicate several anomalies. You laughed it off at first. Maybe because of stress, grief, exhaustion, your husband barely talking to you. God knew you'd been dealing with enough of that lately. But when FRIDAY flagged it a second time, and then a third, and then there's morning sickness and puking around.
That's what led you here, standing in the bathroom with two black-market pregnancy tests sitting on the counter in front of you because tests like these weren't supposed to exist anymore, not legally nor in your world.
Natural pregnancy had become obsolete decades agoâpainful, unpredictable, unnecessary. Children were approved, assigned, and monitored by the government. If you were deemed suitable after assessment, the government will provided everything. Including confirmation, the child, the future you'd spent years dreaming aboutâright up until the moment you withdrew from the assessment.
Your eyes flicked back to the tests.
Positive.
Positive.
Two positives.
The assessment was over. The government never approved you because you yourself had terminated the process.
So how the fuck were you pregnant?
One trembling hand flew to your mouth while the other instinctively pressed against your stomach. Not because you could feel anything thereâGod, it was far too early for thatâbut because your brain couldn't seem to process what your eyes were seeing.
You didn't tell Tony or FRIDAY but you knew FRIDAY would know, at this point he's acting more like your husband than your real husband. The second the panic wore off, one thought kept repeating in your head over and over until it drowned out everything elseâWanda.
If anyone had answers, it was her.
The address took you clear across the city, far away from the polished towers and government housing districts you were used to. By the time you arrived, your stomach was in knots. The building in front of you was old, cramped, and worn down by years of neglect. Nothing like the places assessors were usually associated with.
You were hesitating as you stared at the apartment number in front of you. Then, before you could lose your nerve, you raised your hand and knocked.
The door opened after a few seconds.
Wanda stood in an oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants, looking far different from the polished assessor you'd known during the assessment. Her hair was slightly messy, like she'd just gotten out of bed or had been lying on the couch.
Her eyes widened the second she recognized you.
"Y/N?" she said quietly.
Your throat tightened.
Seeing her again felt strange. Too familiar and too distant at the same time. Weeks had passed since she'd left, yet somehow it felt like no time had passed at all.
Something shifted behind her eyes. The surprise disappeared quickly. And when her eyes slowly lifted back to yours, there was a strange look on her face you couldn't quite place.
"Come in," she said softly, stepping aside.
Like she already knew why you were there.
The moment you stepped inside, the door hadn't even finished closing behind you before the question came out.
"What did you do?" Your voice shook. The apartment was small, barely bigger than a studio and it felt suffocating. Your pulse was roaring in your ears. "What did you do to me?" you repeated.
Wanda stared at you for a long second. "Y/Nâ"
"No." Your voice cracked. "Don't do that. Don't act like you don't know why I'm here."
Your hands were trembling now. You hated that they were trembling.
"I withdrew from the assessment." You say letting out with a disbelieving sound. "I ended it. I signed everything. It was over."
Wanda's eyes never left yours.
"And then I got morning sickness, FRIDAY had detected it. I had to buy illegal pregnancy tests." The words spilled out faster with every breath. "I took two. Both are positive, Wanda."
For the first time since you arrived, Wanda's expression changed. And suddenly, that terrified you more than anything.
"I am fucking pregnant. What did you do?! BecauseâŠbecause this can't be! I can't be!"
The silence that followed felt suffocating. Your chest rose and fell too fast, your hands shaking at your sides as you stared at her, searching her face for anythingâdenial, shock, guilt, anything that made sense of the impossible mess you were standing in. But nothing.
"What did you do?!"
She steps closer, a soft, slow smile spreading across her face that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. She doesn't look surprised at all, just calm and sure, and her voice is gentle when she says the words that make your skin prickle with cold.
"You deserve to be a mother."
"That doesn't answer my question! I couldn't be pregnant. No one can! Iâ"
Wanda took a careful step toward you. "Y/Nâ"
"Don't you dare come at me."
Her expression softened, but it only made your skin crawl.
"Please," she said quietly. "Just listen to me."
The gentleness in her voice felt wrongâmanufactured, rehearsed, like someone trying to soothe an animal caught in a trap.
"People were told pregnancy had become impossible. That the human body could no longer sustain it naturally. It was easier that way. Easier to govern a population that believed reproduction belonged entirely to the State."
Wanda's expression softened trying to get you to listen and understand, though it did nothing to lessen the horror settling over you.
"The government issues every assessor a conception device," she said quietly. "Officially, it's classified as genetic transfer equipment. Unofficially...no one is allowed to call it what it really is." She let out a humorless laugh. "Each device is registered to a single assessor. It carries only that assessor's genetic material, encrypted and traceable. Every use is logged, every activation recorded, every pregnancy tied back to the file of the mother deemed suitable."
You stared at her, unable to speak.
"Every assessor is told the same thing before they're sworn inâYou're not creating a child. You're preserving humanity. That's how they justify it. That's how they convince us we're serving a greater good."
"You stole my choice!" You wailed, not caring about what she's saying now.
A slow smile spread across Wanda's face.
"No, I gave you a future. You deserve this. You deserve to be a mother."
The day she'd left your apartment, you'd said it was just a one time thing, a choice born of loneliness and all the unresolved hunger no one else had bothered to feed. She'd just smiled, kissed your cheek, and told you she understood, even as she'd pressed her government-issued equipment strap onâdeep inside you one last time, slow and soft like she was marking something as hers.
She'd made love to you that morning like she already knew what would happen weeks later. You'd thought it was just a final goodbye, when she finished and pulled out, when you felt that warm cum drip slow down your thigh, and wiped it away with your hand and thought nothing of it, just another messy leftover of a secret you planned to bury.
Not knowing that it would bloom into a life you didn't expect. A life that you thought was impossible to make in this world.
You sink onto the hardwood floor, hands pressed against your temples as the memory finally clicks into place. That last night before Wanda leftâthe wine, the exhaustion, the gaps in your memory. You'd passed out somewhere between the bathtub and her bed, too drunk and overwhelmed to remember much of anything. When you woke up sore the next morning, you'd blamed it on the alcohol, the stress, and everything that happened the night before that. You never questioned it. Never dug deeper. Not until now.
Your stomach is twisting so hard you think you might be sick right there in front of her. The memories and the words came back to you, clear as the night she whispered them against your lightly conscious mind while you were passed out, when you were still playing the parts of a mother and an assessorâher as your child.
"You really would do everything for your child."
"You don't even realize you're doing it already."
It was so wrong, how you'd never have chosen this, never have crossed that line on purpose. You'd never do something so dirty and wrong with your child like what she just said.
"You give so much. You deserve to be a mother."
Fuck, it sounded so wrong! You were so disgusted. It is so fucking wrong you wanted to puke.
But in the dark quiet of her home, the truth hangs heavy and scary. You took Wanda in, gave her every part of yourself, crossed every line no rule book ever dared to name, all out of the soft, generous love that lives in your bones. You never hesitated, never pulled back when she needed more than what a proper mother should give.
You already loved her like your child.
Cared for her like your own.
And you even fucked her while she was acting like your own.
That is the proof no assessment could ever properly captureâyou were made to be a mother, through every line you crossed, every need you filled, no matter how forbidden it was supposed to be.
keeping my hand between her legs even after she's already so worn out, moving in the slowest strokes while she clings to me under the covers. her thighs stay parted just for mommy, body giving soft little shivers as pleasure lingers.
đđđđđIâm humping my pillowđđđholyđđđđđđđđđđđIâm so hornyđđđđđđcurrently squirtingđđđđđđđđđđ
rubbing your clit against yuki tsukumo's nipple ê° à Ë. á”á”
your girlfriend has the best tits ever!
cw: mdni, clit play? nipple play?, art by cheeseboy382
Yuki lays sprawled across the soft sheets in her apartment, you are already straddling her legs when she peels off her top. Her breasts spill free, full and heavy, the kind of perfect curves that make your mouth go dry every single time.
"My eyes are up here," she teases.
You roll your eyes, clicking your tongue. "Do you expect me not to look at them?"
She cups one of her tits in her hand, lifting it slightly. "You're obsessed with these, huh? Can't even pretend otherwise."
Your face burns, but you can't deny it. You've been obsessed with Yuki's tits since the first time she let you touch them. They're so soft, so warm and the way her nipples harden under your gaze makes your thighs press together on instinct. She leans closer to you so those gorgeous breasts hang right next to your face. You reach up, but she catches your wrists gently.
"Nuh-uh," she whispers, her breath hot against your ear. "We're doing something different today."
"Huh?"
She shifts, fully laying down and lining her tits with your clit with help of her hand. She circles her own nipple, making it pebble up nice and tight.
"Yuki, what are you doing?" you ask softly, supporting yourself in the headboard.
She doesn't answer you, instead she chuckles and adjusts herself, guiding your hips up a little as she positions one of her breasts right where you need it. The first brush of her stiff nipple against your slick clit makes you gasp, a soft whine slipping out before you can stop it.
"Yu-Yuki!"
"There we go," she coos. "Go on, baby. Rub yourself on it. Make yourself feel good."
You blink, the anticipation making your mind cloudy. "Are you sure?"
"Super sure, doll, don't waist time."
Your hips roll forward on their own, sliding your wet folds along the hard peak of her nipple. It's so intimate, so filthy in the best way. Her breast is plush and warm under you, giving just enough as you grind down. Yuki bites her lip, clearly enjoying the view, her free hand squeezing the soft flesh around her nipple to make it even more prominent for you.
"Fuck, I can feel how soaked you are," she says, voice dripping with amusement. "Look at you humping my tit like you can't get enough. Whiny little thing."
"Mmh, ahh!"
A desperate moan escapes you as you pick up the pace, your clit catching perfectly on her nipple with every roll of your hips. It's slippery and hot, the friction building fast. Yuki doesn't just sit there though. She's a total tease, tilting her breast away just when it feels too good, making you chase it with a frustrated whimper.
"Aww, don't pout," she laughs softly, finally letting you have it again. She presses her tit closer, letting you grind harder. "You love this, don't you? Riding my nipple like it's your favorite toy. Bet you could cum just from this if I let you."
"Yes, fuck... feels so so good,"
Your hands grip the sheets, knuckles white as you rock against her. Every slide sends sparks through your body, your clit throbbing and aching for more. Yuki's other hand roams, pinching your own nipples lightly, then trailing down to tease your entrance without giving you any relief.
"You're getting so loud," she whispers. "Those pretty whines... keep making them for me, yeah?"
The pressure builds, your hips moving faster, slick sounds filling the room as you rub yourself all over her perfect nipple. Yuki starts moving too, gently bouncing her breast to match your rhythm, making the sensation even more intense.
"Slower," she commands suddenly, pulling back just a fraction. You whine loud, chasing her desperately. "That's it. Beg for it with those hips. Show me how bad you need my tits."
"Please, Yuki," you gasp out. "I need it... please l-let me..."
She rewards you by pressing forward again, letting you grind deep and needy. Your clit is swollen and sensitive now, every pass over her nipple pulling more whines and moans from your throat. You're a total mess, sweat slicking your skin, thighs trembling as you ride her breast like nothing else matters.
Yuki's breathing gets heavier too, her cheeks flushed. She loves seeing you like this, completely undone for her. "God, you're so cute when you're desperate. Cum all over my nipple if you can."
The words push you closer to the edge. You grind harder, faster, the wet slide of your pussy against her stiff peak driving you wild. Yuki squeezes her breast again, angling it perfectly so her nipple flicks right against your most sensitive spot with every thrust of your hips.
Your moans turn into high, needy cries. "Yuki! Yuki... fuck, I'm so close..."
"Make a mess for me."
Your body tenses, hips stuttering as pleasure crashes through you. You whine loud and broken, grinding through your orgasm, slick coating her nipple and the curve of her breast. Yuki keeps you there, letting you ride it out, whispering filthy praises in your ear the whole time.
She pulls back just enough to admire the shine on her skin, then shifts to offer the other breast, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Your turn to make this one feel good too."
"Ahh?" you manage to whine.
"Well, she's going to feel very neglected if you don't ride her too, doncha' think?"
a/n: this is a mess but well i tried :( i got a feeling in the middle of writing this that all my yuki fics sound the same so well
â sit on mommyâs thigh and
make yourself pretty for me. â
summary ::â â high above manhattan, hidden away in one of voughtâs luxury hotel suites, maeve lets you see the side of her no cameras ever get. red silk, bare skin, possessive hands, and the kind of slow-burning tension that snaps the second she realizes just how badly you want her. [ 11k ]
THE HOTEL SUITE'S TOO expensive in that soulless Vought way, all polished marble, low golden lighting, and windows tall enough to make the city look small beneath you. Itâs high above Manhattan, sealed away from flashing cameras and staged smiles, with the whole skyline glittering beyond the glass like itâs trying to impress her.
The curtains are pulled halfway open, letting in strips of neon that slide across the floor and catch on the discarded pieces of Maeveâs armour near the foot of the bed. A half-empty bottle of whiskey waits on the side table beside two untouched glasses, sweating slowly into a ring on the polished wood.
Youâve learned this room because youâve been here with her before, always in between press events, afterparties, and nights where Maeve pretends she isnât lonely until youâre the only person she lets inside.
What started as flirting too sharp to be harmless became something private, messy, and impossible to name, the kind of relationship that lives in locked doors, late calls, and hands lingering too long in public.
Maeveâs claimed the armchair near the window like a throne, one ankle crossed over the other, one hand resting lazily against the armrest, looking like trouble dressed up as luxury.
Sheâs wearing nothing but a red silk robe, deep and glossy like spilled wine, and itâs tied so loosely that it might as well not be tied at all. The robe hangs open down the center of her body, showing the full, heavy curve of her boobs and the relaxed confidence of someone who knows exactly how hard she is to look away from.
Her nipples are visible in the warm light, her skin marked here and there with faint bruises from a fight sheâs already forgotten about, because Maeve collects damage like itâs nothing. Her stomachâs strong and smooth, shadowed where the silk falls aside, every line of her body softened by the gold glow from the lamps.
Lower, the robe parts around her hips, exposing the dark, neatly trimmed bush between her thighs in a way that feels careless and deliberate at the same time. Her bare legs stretch out in front of her, long and powerful, one knee bent just enough to make the robe slip higher.
But itâs her thighs you canât stop staring at, thick and strong and spread with lazy arrogance, like she already knows youâre thinking about climbing onto one.
Youâre standing near the end of the bed in the lingerie she picked out weeks ago, the set she once said made you look too pretty to behave. Itâs black lace with tiny gold details, delicate enough to look expensive and sheer enough to feel like a dare.
The bra barely hides anything, cupping your boobs in a way that makes Maeveâs eyes drag over you slowly, like sheâs taking inventory of what belongs to her tonight. The garter straps sit high on your thighs, clipped to stockings that make your legs feel longer, softer, more exposed under her attention.
The panties are the worst part, or the best part, depending on how honest youâre willing to be. Theyâre crotchless, lace framing you instead of covering you, leaving you open beneath the pretty little illusion of being dressed.
Maeve notices, of course she notices, and the corner of her mouth twitches like sheâs proud of you for wearing them without needing to be told twice.
For a while, neither of you says anything, because the silence between you has always been part of the game. Maeveâs older, more experienced, and far too practiced at acting like nothing touches her, while youâre still soft in places she pretends not to adore.
That difference used to make you nervous, not because she ever made you feel small, but because she carried herself like someone whoâd already survived every mistake you were still learning how to make. She never rushed you, though, not once, even when her eyes went dark or her hand settled too low on your back in crowded elevators.
âYouâre staring again,â she says now, voice low and amused, her thumb brushing along the armrest. You lift your chin, trying to look braver than you feel, and say, âYouâre sitting there like you want me to.â Maeveâs smile is slow, wicked, and unbearably fond as she answers, âMaybe I do.â
You try to keep your eyes on her face after that, but itâs almost impossible when sheâs sitting like that. Her robe slips another inch when she shifts, one thigh flexing beneath the silk, muscle moving under skin in a way that makes your mouth go dry.
She watches your gaze drop, watches it stay there, and doesnât call you out right away. The pause is crueller than teasing, thick with heat and the soft hum of the city beyond the glass. You can feel yourself getting wet, embarrassingly aware of the way the open panties leave nothing to hide behind.
Maeveâs eyes flick down like she knows, like she can see every tiny reaction your body gives her before youâve even admitted it to yourself. âStill shy after all this?â she asks, and your breath catches when she adds, âCute.â
Your face burns, but you donât look away this time. Thereâs no point pretending when your eyes are glued to the inside of her thighs, to the heavy ease of her body, to the dark hair between her legs and the robe slipping open around it.
Maeve laughs under her breath, low and rough, the kind of sound that lands straight between your legs. She lifts one hand and trails her fingers over her own thigh, not touching herself, just drawing your attention exactly where she wants it.
The movementâs slow, almost lazy, but your whole body reacts like sheâs put her hands on you instead. âYou always get quiet when you want something,â she says, eyes narrowed with amusement. You swallow hard, because the answer sits hot on your tongue, and all you manage is, âI want you.â
Something in Maeveâs expression softens before it sharpens again, like your honesty hits her somewhere deeper than she planned. She uncrosses her ankles and lets both feet settle flat against the floor, her robe falling open even more with the shift.
It should feel obscene, the way she lets you see so much of her, but on Maeve it feels like trust dressed up as arrogance.
Her boobs rise and fall with one slow breath, her nipples hardening slightly in the cool air of the suite, and her gaze stays fixed on you the entire time. You know she sees the way your thighs press together, the way your fingers twitch at your sides, the way your breathing keeps catching no matter how still you try to be.
âCome here, then,â she says, quieter now, almost gentle under the command. When you hesitate, she tilts her head and adds, âIâm not going to make you ask twice, sweetheart, but I do want to hear you ask once.â
You take one step closer, then another, each movement slow because the want feels bigger when you donât rush it. âMaeve,â you whisper, and she hums like she loves the sound of her name in your mouth more than sheâll ever admit.
Her legs bracket the space in front of the chair, strong and inviting, and your attention keeps dropping back to them no matter how many times you try to be subtle. âUse your words,â she says, her hand lifting to your hip when you finally get close enough to touch.
You breathe in, shaky and hot, the crotchless lace making you feel obscene under her gaze as you say, âI want to ride your thigh.â Maeveâs fingers tighten just enough to pull you forward, guiding you over her bare leg until the heat of you brushes against her skin.
Then she flexes her thigh under you and smiles like a queen, murmuring, âGood girl, since you couldnât stop staring at your throne, you might as well sit on it.â
You move before your bravery can run out, each step toward Maeve feeling slower than it should because sheâs watching you like thereâs nowhere in the world sheâd rather look. The carpetâs soft beneath your bare feet, plush enough to make the suite feel quieter, warmer, sealed away from the city glittering behind her.
Your thighs brush together as you walk, and the smallest bit of friction makes your breath catch before you can hide it. The crotchless panties donât protect you from anything, not from the air, not from Maeveâs stare, not from the way your own arousal has started to gather hot and obvious between your legs.
You know youâre wet, not just a little, not in a way you can pretend away with nervous laughter or a shift of your hips. Maeve knows it too, and from her chair, sheâs thinking you look almost painfully pretty like this, all lace and nerves and open want. She keeps her face calm, but thereâs heat gathering low in her stomach, sharp enough to make her thighs tense beneath the red silk robe.
Maeve doesnât even try to hide the way her eyes drop. They move slowly, deliberately, from your face to your chest, over the black lace cupping your boobs, down the soft line of your stomach, then lower. Her gaze catches exactly where you knew it would, and the heat in your cheeks gets so bad you almost stop walking.
She sees the slick shine between your thighs, the way your pussyâs already wet enough to make the crotchless lace feel obscene, the way your bodyâs betrayed you before sheâs even touched you properly. âLook at you,â she says, voice lower now, rough around the edges in a way that makes your knees feel weak.
Maeveâs thinking about how easy it would be to pull you down, how good youâd feel against her thigh, how much she wants to make you ruin that pretty little set she likes so much. âAll that staring,â she adds, dragging her thumb over her own thigh, âand youâre already soaked.â
You swallow, but your mouth feels useless, too dry for how wet the rest of you feels. âMaeve,â you whisper, and it comes out softer than you meant it to, more of a plea than a warning. Her eyes lift immediately, dark and amused, and something in her expression sharpens like youâve made a mistake sheâs been waiting to correct.
âNo,â she says, calm enough to make your stomach flip. âTry again.â You blink at her, breath catching, and Maeve tilts her head with that lazy, dangerous patience she only uses when she knows she has you cornered.
Sheâs aroused by the confusion on your face, by how sweetly your lips part, by the way youâre already wet and still somehow shy enough to need reminding. âNot Maeve right now,â she says, thumb still stroking her thigh, âmommy.â
The word hits you so hard your thighs press together without permission. Maeve sees it, of course she does, and the corner of her mouth curves like your body just answered for you. âMommy,â you whisper, quieter this time, and it sounds so much needier than her name did.
Maeveâs breath changes for half a second, barely noticeable, but you catch it because youâre looking at her like sheâs the only thing keeping you upright. From where sheâs sitting, she thinks you might be the prettiest thing sheâs ever ruined, all soft obedience and trembling heat wrapped in black lace.
It makes her wet too, slowly and insistently, her own arousal building beneath the open robe while she forces herself to stay relaxed in the chair. âBetter,â she murmurs, voice rougher now, âcome here.â
By the time youâre close enough for her to touch, you can feel the warmth of her body coming off her in slow waves. She doesnât grab you right away, and somehow thatâs worse, because Maeve could pull you in with one hand if she wanted to.
Instead, she lets you come to her, lets you stand between her open legs while her eyes climb back up to your face. Her thighs are right there, strong and bare beneath the parted robe, one of them angled like an invitation youâve been aching toward since the moment you walked in.
You try not to look again, but you do, of course you do, because her legs are impossible and she knows it. Maeve feels a pulse of satisfaction at that, something possessive and hot, because she likes knowing you want the part of her sheâs been showing off all night. âStill thinking about it, sweetheart?â she asks.
You nod before you can make yourself answer properly. The movement makes your hair shift over your shoulder, and Maeveâs gaze follows that too, slow and possessive, like sheâs memorizing every nervous little detail. âSay it,â she tells you, one hand finally reaching out to settle on your hip.
Her palmâs warm through the lace at your side, firm enough to remind you how easy it would be for her to guide you exactly where she wants you. You breathe in, but it trembles halfway down, because her thumb has started stroking over the strap at your hip in lazy little passes.
The pressure tugs the panties slightly, making the open fabric frame your wet pussy even more, and Maeveâs thoughts snag on the glossy, needy look of you. âI want your thigh, mommy,â you admit, voice barely above a whisper.
Maeveâs eyes darken at that, and for a moment the whole room narrows down to her hand on your hip and the space between your legs.
âYeah?â she asks, soft enough that it almost sounds gentle. Her other hand slides up your thigh, stopping just short of where youâre aching, her fingertips brushing the edge of the lace without giving you what you want.
You jerk a little, not enough to move away, just enough for her to feel it. Maeve feels her own body answer, heat pooling low as she imagines your slick spreading over her skin, imagines you losing that careful little composure one grind at a time.
âYouâre making a mess already,â she says, and the words make your stomach drop in the best, worst way. You know sheâs right, because you can feel yourself slick and exposed, wet enough that sitting on her thigh will leave proof on all that strong bare muscle.
Maeve guides you closer with a slow pull, her fingers pressing into your hip as if sheâs deciding exactly how patient she wants to be. You step between her thighs fully, one knee almost brushing the chair, the heat of her bare leg so close it makes your whole body ache.
She looks up at you from under her lashes, red silk slipping wider around her body, her robe open enough that you can see the dark, trimmed hair between her legs and the shameless spread of her thighs.
Thereâs something devastating about her like this, powerful and half-undone, letting you see the softness beneath all the armor while still making you feel like youâre the one being hunted.
Maeveâs thinking that she wants your mouth, your sounds, the slick little grind of you against her, but most of all she wants to watch you choose it.
Your hands hover for a second before they settle on her shoulders, careful at first, then firmer when she gives you that approving little hum. âThere you go,â she murmurs, flexing her thigh beneath you, âsit on mommyâs thigh and make yourself pretty for me.â
Maeve watches you lower yourself onto her thigh, and for one rare second, the room goes quiet inside her head. Sheâs used to noise, cameras, questions, people wanting pieces of her until thereâs nothing left but the part they paid to see.
But this is different, because youâre not looking at the legend or the brand or the woman in gold. Youâre looking at her like sheâs flesh, heat, want, something real enough to touch. The first slick press of your pussy against her bare thigh makes Maeveâs fingers tighten at your hips before she can stop herself.
Youâre so wet that she feels it immediately, warm and glossy, spreading over her skin with the tiniest shake of your body. Maeveâs breath goes shallow, and she thinks, almost viciously, that she wants to see just how messy you can make yourself on her.
She keeps her face composed because she likes watching you unravel first. Itâs cruel, maybe, but Maeveâs always had a thing for control, especially when control is the only part of her life that still feels like it belongs to her.
Your hands grip her shoulders, delicate at first, then harder when your hips twitch without permission. She notices that too, notices everything, the tremble in your thighs, the little catch in your breath, the way your mouth opens around a sound youâre trying not to make.
âThere,â Maeve murmurs, voice low, her thumb stroking your hip through the lace. âThatâs what you wanted, wasnât it?â She feels your wetness smear against her thigh again, and thereâs a hot pulse between her own legs that makes her jaw tense.
You nod too quickly, too sweetly, and Maeveâs chest tightens with something dangerously close to affection. Sheâs always thought you look prettiest when you forget how to pretend, when all that softness spills out of you and leaves you honest.
Tonight, dressed in her favourite lingerie, open and trembling on her thigh, you look like every bad decision sheâs ever wanted to make twice. Her robe has slipped farther open, red silk pooling around her waist and sliding off one shoulder, but she barely cares about covering herself.
She wants you to see her too, wants your eyes on her boobs, her stomach, her spread thighs, the trimmed dark hair between them. Maeve wants to be wanted without the cameras, without the script, without someone telling her what that want should look like. When you whisper, âMaeve,â she clicks her tongue softly and tilts your chin up.
âCareful,â she says, and her voice is gentle enough to make the correction worse. She sees your eyes go wide, sees the way your hips stutter against her thigh as if the reminder alone touches something needy inside you.
âWhat did I tell you to call me?â Maeve asks, letting one hand slide from your chin to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there like a warning. The word comes out of you shaky and small, âMommy.â Maeve feels it hit her low, filthy and sharp, and she has to fight not to pull you down harder.
âGood girl,â she says, because she knows what that praise does to you, and because sheâs starting to need the sound of you reacting to it. Her own arousal is becoming impossible to ignore, slick heat gathering between her thighs beneath the robe, making her feel almost as exposed as you are.
She guides your hips before you can overthink it, hands firm but slow, teaching your body the rhythm she wants. Forward, back, just enough pressure to make your breath break, just enough friction to make your thighs tense around her leg.
Maeve watches the exact moment it starts feeling too good for you to hide, when your lashes flutter and your fingers dig into her shoulders. Thereâs a shine on her thigh now, proof of you, proof that the lace is useless and your bodyâs been begging long before your mouth caught up.
She loves it more than she should. It makes something possessive in her purr, ugly and satisfied, because the world gets the performance, but she gets this. She gets you wet and needy on her thigh, whispering mommy like itâs the only name sheâs ever had.
Maeve leans back in the chair, not because sheâs unaffected, but because she wants a better view. Your body moves over her in tiny, desperate rolls, the crotchless panties framing your pussy while you grind against her bare skin.
She can see the slick glide of you each time your hips move, can feel the heat of it soaking into her thigh, and it makes her swallow a groan. She thinks about putting her mouth on you, about spreading you open with her fingers and tasting exactly how worked up youâve gotten.
But not yet. Not when youâre making such pretty little noises from something as simple as her thigh. âLook at you,â she says, rougher now, âyouâre making such a mess for mommy.â
Your reaction nearly ruins her. You whimper, small and embarrassed, and Maeve feels your hips press down harder like your bodyâs chasing the praise even while your face burns. She likes that contradiction in you, the shy mouth and the shameless body, the way you try to hide while dripping all over her.
Her hand slips to your lower back and pushes you closer, making the angle meaner, making the friction hit exactly where you need it.
Maeve feels you jolt, and the sound you make drags a low laugh out of her. âThere it is,â she murmurs, eyes fixed on your face. âDonât run from it now, sweetheart.â
Inside, Maeveâs less composed than she looks. Sheâs wet, aching, and painfully aware of how open her own robe is, how close your knee is to where she wants pressure.
Every little grind of your body against her thigh makes her think about dragging you down between her legs after, letting you see what youâve done to her too.
She wants your mouth on her, wants your hands shaking against her hips, wants to stop pretending sheâs above begging when you know better than anyone that she isnât. But for now, she keeps you where you are, because watching you use her feels like worship in reverse.
It makes her feel powerful and wanted and soft in a way sheâll deny later if anyone asks. Maeve tightens her grip on your hips, flexes her thigh beneath your soaked pussy, and says, âThatâs it, baby, ride it like you mean it.â
The next grind steals the breath right out of your mouth. Maeveâs thigh is firm beneath you, warm and slick now, every slow roll of your hips dragging your bare pussy over hard muscle in a way that makes your whole body tremble.
Thereâs no fabric to soften it, no barrier to pretend this is anything less than filthy, just your wet cunt sliding over her skin while the ruined lace frames the mess youâre making. The pressure catches your clit each time you move forward, sharp and sweet, enough to make your knees tighten around her leg.
You can feel how wet youâve made her, how your slick spreads with every desperate little rock, and the knowledge only makes you grind down harder. Maeve watches your face like sheâs waiting for the exact moment you stop being embarrassed and start needing it. âThere you go,â she says, voice thick with amusement, âlook at you using mommyâs thigh like youâve been thinking about it all night.â
You try to answer her, but the only thing that leaves you is a breathy little sound that makes her fingers dig into your hips. Maeve smiles like sheâs won something and pulls you down harder, forcing the pressure right where you need it.
The friction makes your head tip back, your mouth falling open as heat sparks low in your stomach and curls through your thighs. Itâs messy and humiliating, the slick slide of your pussy against her bare skin loud enough in the quiet room that you want to hide your face. Maeve doesnât let you.
She catches your chin with two fingers, dragging your gaze back down to hers while you keep rocking helplessly against her. âDonât look away,â she tells you, low and mean-soft, âI want to see exactly what my thigh does to that pretty pussy.â
Your hands tighten on her shoulders, fingers curling into warm skin and red silk, but Maeveâs attention shifts lower. Her eyes drop to your chest, to the black lace bra still holding your boobs up so prettily for her, and her mouth curves with intent.
âThese have been distracting me,â she murmurs, more to herself than to you, before her hands slide up your sides. She tugs the cups down without any real patience, pulling the lace beneath your boobs until your nipples spill free into the cool air. The sudden exposure makes you gasp, especially when your body jerks and grinds harder against her thigh at the same time.
Maeve notices that too, because of course she does, and her laugh is low enough to make your clit throb. âSensitive little thing,â she says, brushing her thumbs over both nipples, âyouâre leaking all over me and still getting worked up over this?â
Her thumbs circle your nipples slowly at first, almost tender, and somehow that makes it worse. Each pass sends a tight little pulse through you, dragging pleasure from your chest straight down to where youâre grinding, until your body canât decide which feeling to chase.
You whimper her name, then catch yourself too late, because Maeveâs eyes snap up with that dangerous look. She pinches one nipple just enough to make you jolt. âWhat was that?â she asks, voice calm, but her hands donât stop.
Your hips stutter against her thigh, slick and needy, the pressure catching your clit so perfectly that your answer comes out broken. âMommy,â you breathe, and Maeveâs smile turns satisfied as she says, âBetter, baby.â
Then she leans forward and spits directly onto one of your nipples. The sight of it, the feel of it, warm and sudden and obscene, makes your whole body clench so hard you nearly slip against her thigh. Maeve rubs it in with her thumb, spreading it over the tight bud before lowering her mouth to you.
The first pull of her lips around your nipple makes you cry out, your hips bucking down against her leg without permission. She sucks slowly, wet and deliberate, tongue flicking over you while her other hand keeps you steady at the waist.
The sensation is too much layered together, her mouth on your chest, her thigh between your legs, her hands holding you exactly where she wants you. âThatâs it,â she murmurs against your skin, âgrind on me while I suck on these pretty tits.â
You do exactly what she says because you donât know how not to. Your hips roll faster, messier, dragging your swollen clit over her slick thigh while her mouth moves from one nipple to the other.
She spits again before sucking the other one into her mouth, and the dirty sound you make feels like itâs dragged out of somewhere deep and helpless.
Maeve groans around you, and the vibration makes your spine arch, pushing your chest closer to her mouth. Your pussy slides against her with a wet, needy rhythm, and you can feel the orgasm starting to build, hotter now, less gentle, tightening every muscle low in your belly.
âMommy,â you gasp, fingers slipping into her hair before you can stop yourself. Maeve bites lightly at your nipple, just enough to make you shudder, then says, âYouâre close, arenât you?â
You nod too quickly, too desperate to lie, your thighs trembling around hers while your hips keep moving. âPlease,â you breathe, and then louder when she doesnât answer fast enough, âplease, mommy, Iâm so close.â
Maeve pulls back from your chest, lips wet, eyes dark, your nipples shiny from her mouth and spit. She looks down between your bodies, watching your pussy grind over her thigh, watching the slick smear youâve left all over her skin.
âFuck, youâre pretty like this,â she says, voice rough enough to sound almost ruined. Her hands move back to your hips and guide you harder, making each stroke longer, meaner, perfect. âAsk properly,â she says, âtell mommy what you need.â
Youâre beyond pride by then, shaking so badly you can barely keep yourself upright. âPlease let me cum,â you beg, grinding down hard enough that your clit catches and makes your voice crack. âPlease, mommy, please, Iâll be good, I just need to cum on your thigh.â
Maeveâs expression flickers, hunger and affection tangled together, and then she pulls you close enough that her mouth brushes your throat. âYes,â she says, low against your skin, âcum for me.â
The permission snaps something loose in you instantly, your body locking up as pleasure hits hard and bright, spilling through you in hot waves. Maeve holds you through it, thigh flexed beneath your soaked pussy, whispering, âThatâs it, baby, make a mess on mommy, give it all to me.â
Your orgasm leaves you trembling against her, thighs shaking around Maeveâs leg while your pussy keeps pulsing helplessly on her skin. For a few seconds, you canât do anything except breathe through it, forehead falling against her shoulder as the aftershocks roll through you.
Maeveâs hands stay on your hips, not letting you collapse, not letting you pull away from the wet mess youâve made on her thigh. You can feel it beneath you, slick and warm, your cunt still pressed against the muscle she kept flexing until you broke for her.
She kisses the side of your neck, slow and almost sweet, except her voice is still rough when she says, âThatâs it, baby, breathe for me.â You try, but every little inhale comes out shaky because your clit is still too sensitive,
still rubbing faintly against her every time your body twitches. Maeve laughs softly into your skin and murmurs, âLook at you, came so hard you forgot how to sit up.â
You whine at that, embarrassed, but she only holds you tighter. Her thumb strokes through the slick on your hip where the lace has shifted, and the casual filth of it makes your stomach flutter all over again.
Your bra is still tugged down under your boobs, nipples wet and swollen from her mouth, cool air making them ache after the heat of her tongue.
Maeve pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dragging over your ruined chest, your parted lips, the messy way youâre still perched on her thigh. âPretty fucking thing,â she says, almost under her breath, like sheâs talking to herself and not you.
Then her gaze drops between your bodies, and you follow it before you can stop yourself. Her thigh is shiny with you, a visible smear of arousal spread across her skin, and the sight makes you hide your face against her shoulder with a broken little sound.
âNo,â Maeve says, catching your chin before you can disappear fully. Her fingers are firm, not painful, just enough to make you look back down at what you did. âDonât get shy after soaking my thigh like that.â
Your face burns so badly it feels unfair, but your eyes stay where she wants them, fixed on the glossy mess between your legs. She slides two fingers through it slowly, gathering your slick off her own skin, and your breath catches when she lifts them between you.
âSee that?â she asks, voice low and filthy, turning her fingers so the light catches the wet shine. You nod, throat tight, too ruined to pretend you donât love the way sheâs making you look. Maeveâs mouth curves, and she presses those fingers to your lips with a soft, cruel, âOpen.â
You do, because thereâs no part of you left that wants to disobey her. Her fingers slide onto your tongue, tasting like you and the faint salt of her skin, and the sound she makes when your lips close around them goes straight between your thighs.
You suck them clean slowly, eyes watering from how intensely sheâs watching you, how open her robe still is, how her own thighs have shifted wider beneath you. Thatâs when you notice it properly, the way Maeveâs breathing has changed, the way her stomach tightens, the way sheâs wet too.
The red silk has fallen open enough that you can see the dark hair between her legs, and beneath it, the shine of her own arousal glistening where sheâs been pretending to be patient. Your mouth goes slack around her fingers. Maeve sees you notice and smiles like sheâs been waiting for it.
âYeah,â she says, withdrawing her fingers from your mouth with a slow drag over your lower lip. âYou did that.â The words make your body throb, even through the oversensitivity, even with your orgasm still melting your bones.
She leans back in the chair again, letting the robe fall open wider, giving you a better look because Maeve is never shy when she wants to be wanted. Her cunt is wet, framed by the trimmed dark hair youâd been staring at earlier, and the sight of her aroused because of you makes your head feel light.
You shift on her thigh without meaning to, and the sudden rub against your overstimulated clit makes you gasp. Maeve catches the sound instantly, eyes narrowing with satisfaction. âStill sensitive?â she asks, and when you nod, she hums, âGood.â
Her hands move from your hips to your waist, lifting you just enough to slide you off her thigh and down between her legs. Your knees hit the plush carpet, and the position makes your whole body go hot with want all over again.
Maeve looks unreal above you, robe open, boobs bare, one hand resting on the arm of the chair while the other strokes your cheek. Thereâs something softer in her face now, but it doesnât make her any less devastating.
âYou wanted to stare so badly,â she says, voice thick, ânow do something useful with that pretty mouth.â You lean in before she has to tell you twice, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh first, right where your slick is still drying on her skin. Maeveâs breath catches, and the tiny break in her control makes you feel brave enough to kiss higher.
The closer you get, the more you can smell her arousal, warm and intimate and enough to make your mouth water. You drag your lips along her inner thigh, slow because you want to feel the way her muscles tense under you.
Maeveâs fingers slide into your hair, not forcing you, just holding on like she needs something to ground herself. âDonât tease too much,â she warns, but thereâs a rasp in her voice that tells you she likes it.
You glance up at her from between her legs, and the sight makes her jaw tighten. âCareful,â she says, though her hips shift toward your mouth like sheâs betraying herself. You smile against her skin and whisper, âYes, mommy.â
Maeve groans at that, low and wrecked, and her grip in your hair tightens. The sound gives you permission, or maybe it just ruins your last bit of restraint, because you finally put your mouth on her. The first taste of her makes your eyes flutter, and Maeveâs head tips back against the chair with a sharp exhale.
Sheâs wet against your tongue, warm and slick, and the moment you lick through her properly, her thighs tense on either side of your head. âFuck,â she mutters, no polish left in it, no queenly distance, just need. You do it again, slower, greedy now that you know what she sounds like when you get it right.
Maeve feels the orgasm take shape before it fully hits, low and heavy, pulling tight through her stomach while your fingers keep curling inside her. She tries to hold onto the last thread of control, but youâve got your mouth sealed around her clit and your fingers buried deep enough to make that impossible.
âFuck, baby,â she breathes, voice cracking in a way that makes your whole body shiver against the carpet. Your eyes flick up to her, wet and eager, and the sight of you looking so ruined while youâre still eating her out sends another brutal wave of heat through her.
You donât stop, not even when her thighs clamp tighter around your head, not even when her grip in your hair turns rougher. You just moan against her pussy like you want her to use you through it. âThatâs it,â she pants, hips lifting into your mouth, âkeep going, donât stop, donât you fucking stop.â
You whimper your answer into her cunt, the sound muffled and desperate, your fingers moving faster when you feel her start to shake. Maeveâs back arches off the chair, red silk slipping lower around her waist, her boobs rising with each broken breath as the first hard pulse of pleasure tears through her.
Her orgasm hits deep, sudden and messy, forcing a low, wrecked groan out of her chest. She comes against your tongue, soaking your mouth while your fingers keep stroking her through every sharp, trembling wave.
You drink her down eagerly, lips and chin slick, swallowing everything she gives you like youâve been waiting for it all night. Maeve looks down just in time to see the way your eyes flutter closed when you taste her, and something in her goes almost feral at the devotion of it. âGreedy little thing,â she gasps, voice ruined, âyou like mommyâs cum that much?â
You nod without lifting your mouth away from her. Itâs clumsy and needy, your lips still pressed to her pussy, tongue dragging through her wet folds to catch every bit of her. âMhm,â you hum, and the vibration makes Maeve jolt so hard her fingers twist in your hair.
Youâre aching again, your own pussy throbbing with every sound she makes, every twitch of her thighs around your head. Without thinking, you start rocking your hips against the carpet, small at first, then more desperate when the pressure sparks through you.
The lingerie digs into your hips, your ruined cunt still oversensitive from riding her thigh earlier, but you canât stop yourself. Maeve notices almost immediately, because of course she does, and her blown-out eyes sharpen through the haze of her orgasm.
âOh,â she says, breathless and darkly amused, âlook at you.â You freeze for half a second, embarrassed, but your mouth stays on her and your hips betray you by grinding down again.
Maeveâs laugh breaks into a groan when your tongue licks over her clit, too sensitive now, but she doesnât push you away. Her hand slides from your hair to your cheek, smearing your face with the wetness coating your lips.
âYouâre humping the floor while you swallow mommy down?â she asks, voice thick with disbelief and hunger. Your cheeks burn, but the humiliation only makes your pussy clench harder, your hips pressing into the carpet again in a helpless little roll. You pull back just enough to whisper, âCanât help it, you taste so good.â
Maeveâs eyes shut for a second, like the words hit her harder than your mouth did. âJesus,â she mutters, dragging in a shaky breath as your fingers slip out of her slowly, coated and glistening.
You immediately bring them to your mouth, cleaning her off your own fingers without being told, and Maeve watches like sheâs considering ruining you all over again.
âYouâre filthy,â she says, but it sounds like praise. âYouâre so fucking filthy for me.â You nod, lips shiny, voice soft and wrecked as you say, âOnly for you, mommy.â
Maeveâs stomach tightens again despite how sensitive she is, because you sound too sweet to be saying something that obscene. It makes her want to keep you there until youâre shaking apart beneath her gaze.
You lean back in, unable to resist, and lick her pussy again, slower this time, cleaning the slick from her folds with soft, worshipful strokes. Maeve hisses through her teeth, thighs twitching around you, one hand gripping the armrest hard enough to make it creak.
âSensitive,â she warns, but her hips still tilt toward your mouth. You glance up at her with your lips pressed to her, and the look in your eyes makes the warning useless. Sheâs still flushed from coming, still wet and open, trimmed dark hair damp from your mouth, her cunt glistening under the low hotel light.
You lick her again, gentle but greedy, and grind down against the carpet with a broken little moan. âMommy,â you breathe against her, âyouâre making me wet again.â
Maeveâs expression turns sharp, satisfied, almost cruel in its affection. âAgain?â she echoes, pushing damp hair back from your forehead so she can see your face properly. âBaby, you never stopped.â
Your breath catches, because sheâs right, and because the way she says it makes your hips rut harder against the floor. Maeve watches the movement, watches your body chase friction while your mouth stays devoted between her legs, and her voice drops lower.
âDoes licking my pussy turn you on that much?â she asks. You nod quickly, too needy to pretend, and press a kiss to her inner thigh before whispering, âYes, mommy.â Her thumb strokes your cheek, tender and filthy all at once, as she murmurs, âThen keep going.â
So you do. You lick her clean like youâre starving, swallowing every trace of her while your hips move against the carpet in helpless, needy little rolls. The friction isnât enough, not really, but itâs something, and something is all your body needs when Maeveâs watching you with that ruined, possessive look.
Every time your clit catches against the pressure, your mouth falters for half a second, and Maeve notices every single time. âDonât get distracted,â she says, still breathless, still recovering, but somehow fully in control again.
âYou wanted to taste me, so taste me.â You whine, nodding, licking back into her with renewed hunger while your thighs tremble behind you. Maeveâs fingers tighten in your hair again, and she smiles down at you like a queen on her throne, whispering, âThatâs my good girl.â
âYour good girl,â you agree, voice muffled against Maeveâs pussy, the words soft and ruined as you lick the last of her juices from her folds. Your mouth moves slowly now, tender where youâd been greedy before, dragging your tongue through every slick little place sheâs still wet for you.
Maeveâs thighs twitch around your head, her body still too sensitive, but she doesnât push you away. She watches you from above with flushed cheeks and parted lips, red silk tangled around her hips, sweat shining faintly along her collarbones from how hard she came.
Thereâs a damp warmth between both of your bodies now, the hotel air thick with sex, perfume, and the heat of skin pressed too close for too long. Youâre sweating too, your chest rising hard in the pulled-down bra, nipples still wet from her mouth earlier, thighs sticky from your own arousal and the carpet beneath you.
Maeve thinks you look obscene and angelic at once, mouth shiny with her, eyes hazy, still trying to be good even while youâre humping the floor for friction.
When you finally lift your head, Maeve doesnât give you time to feel shy about it. She hooks her fingers under your chin and pulls you up toward her, strong enough that your knees leave the carpet before you fully realize youâre moving.
You stumble into her lap, breathless and messy, and then her mouth is on yours. The kiss is filthy from the start, all tongue and heat, Maeve tasting herself on your lips with a rough sound that vibrates straight through you.
She kisses you like she wants proof, like she wants to know exactly how eager you were to swallow her down. From Maeveâs side, the taste of herself in your mouth nearly wrecks her all over again,
because itâs intimate in a way nothing staged or polished could ever be. She thinks, mine, with a sharpness that surprises even her, and her hands drag you closer until your sweaty bodies press together.
You melt into her immediately, because thereâs nowhere else you want to be. Your bare pussy brushes against her stomach as you settle over her, the crotchless panties useless and twisted at your hips, leaving slick smears on her skin every time you move.
Maeve groans into your mouth when she feels it, one hand sliding down your back to pull your hips in tighter. Youâre still wet, embarrassingly so, and the pressure of her body against yours makes your clit throb with that raw, post-orgasm sensitivity.
She can feel you trembling, feel the way your thighs tense around her lap, feel the needy little rock you try to hide while kissing her. âStill aching?â she murmurs against your mouth, lips brushing yours with every word. You nod, breath catching, and whisper, âI need you, mommy.â
Thatâs what snaps the last of Maeveâs patience. Her mouth leaves yours only to drag down your jaw, then your neck, kissing hot and open-mouthed over sweat-damp skin. You tip your head back for her before she asks, giving her access like your body already knows what she wants.
Maeveâs lips move over your throat slowly at first, almost sweet, then her teeth catch just beneath your pulse and make you gasp. She feels the sound against her mouth and smiles into your skin, biting a little harder, not enough to hurt badly, just enough to leave a mark youâll feel later.
Your hands clutch at her shoulders, nails pressing into muscle, and Maeveâs thoughts go hazy with the satisfaction of having you shaking in her lap. âPretty baby,â she mutters into your neck, âall wet again just from tasting me.â
You try to answer, but Maeveâs hand slides up and wraps around your throat before the words come together. Her grip isnât there to steal your air, not fully, just firm enough to hold your attention and make your whole body go still.
Your eyes flutter, and Maeve feels the way you react instantly, pussy clenching against nothing, breath catching beneath her palm. She watches your face carefully because she always does, reading the heat in your eyes, the way your lips part, the way you lean into it instead of away.
âLook at me,â she says, voice low and steady, and you do, dazed and desperate. The moment your gaze locks with hers, her other hand slips between your thighs. Before you can brace for it, she shoves two fingers inside you.
The sound you make is broken, sharp, and helpless. Your whole body jerks in her lap, cunt stretching around her fingers while her hand stays wrapped around your throat, keeping you close enough that you canât hide from her face.
Maeve feels how wet you are immediately, hot and slick, swallowing her fingers like youâve been waiting for it since the second she pulled you up. It makes her own stomach tighten, makes heat flare between her thighs again even though sheâs still sensitive from your mouth.
âFuck,â she breathes, almost to herself, because youâre so soft and soaked around her that it ruins the little control sheâd gathered back. You clutch at her wrist, not to pull her away, just because you need something to hold while she fills you without warning. âMommy,â you gasp, throat moving under her palm, âoh my god.â
Maeve smiles like thatâs exactly what she wanted to hear. She keeps her fingers buried inside you for a second, letting your body flutter around them, letting you feel the sudden fullness while her thumb strokes once along the side of your throat.
âThere she is,â she murmurs, eyes dark as she watches you try to breathe through the shock of it. Then she starts moving, slow at first, dragging her fingers out just enough to push them back in deep. Your hips chase her hand immediately, needy and shameless, slick spreading over her knuckles with every thrust.
From your side, it feels like too much after everything, like your bodyâs already been wrung out and sheâs still finding places to make you ache. From Maeveâs, it feels like owning every sound you make, every clench, every soft little collapse of your face when she curls her fingers just right.
âIs this what you needed?â she asks, mouth back at your neck, kissing over the mark she left before biting another one lower. You nod frantically, sweat cooling across your chest while her robe rubs against your skin,
the silk damp where your bodies press together. Her fingers fuck into you harder, not rushed, just confident, every stroke slick and deep enough to make your thighs shake around her.
âUse your words,â Maeve says, tightening her hand at your throat just enough to make your focus snap back to her. âYes, mommy,â you choke out, voice thin and wrecked, âneeded your fingers, needed you so bad.â
Maeve groans against your neck like the confession gets under her skin. âI know, baby,â she says, curling her fingers until your whole body arches, âI can feel how badly you need me.â
Maeve doesnât let you drift away from it, not even for a second. Her hand stays at your throat, firm enough to hold you still but careful enough that you can breathe around the pressure. The other keeps two fingers deep inside you, slick to the knuckle, moving with a slow confidence that makes your thighs tremble around her lap.
âThere you go,â she murmurs, eyes locked on yours as she curls them just right. Your breath breaks into a whine, and she feels your pussy clench hard around her fingers.
Maeveâs stomach tightens at the feeling, arousal sparking low again even though sheâs still sensitive from your mouth. âThatâs the spot, isnât it?â she says, voice rough and pleased. You nod quickly, too ruined for pride, and she smiles like sheâs proud of how easily your body tells on you.
You can barely hold yourself up, one hand clinging to her shoulder while the other wraps around her wrist. It isnât to stop her, and Maeve knows that because your hips keep rolling down onto her fingers every time she pulls back.
The wet sound of her fucking you fills the quiet suite, obscene and soft under the hum of the city beyond the glass. Your chest is still bare from where she pulled your bra down, nipples swollen and damp from her mouth, rising and falling with every shaky breath.
Sweat beads along your collarbones and between your boobs, making your skin glow under the hotel lights. Maeve watches it all with a greedy kind of focus, memorizing the way pleasure makes you sloppy. âYou look so fucking pretty like this,â she tells you. âAll messy and desperate on mommyâs fingers.â
The praise hits so hard your eyes flutter. Maeve feels the reaction instantly, feels your cunt grip tighter around her fingers like your bodyâs trying to pull her deeper. âOh, you liked that,â she says, and thereâs a smile in her voice even before you open your eyes again. You try to answer, but her fingers curl and your words dissolve into a gasp.
She leans in, mouth brushing the corner of yours without giving you a proper kiss. âDonât worry, baby,â she whispers. âYou donât have to think.â Her thumb strokes the side of your throat once, gentle beneath the command. âJust take it and let mommy make you cum.â
Your body obeys before your mind catches up. Your hips rock harder, grinding down with every thrust of her fingers, chasing the pressure until your thighs start shaking for real.
Maeveâs robe is damp where your body presses against hers, red silk sticking to both of you in the heat of the room. She can feel your slick running over her hand, coating her palm, making every stroke smoother and deeper.
The feel of it turns her on more than she expects, because thereâs nothing polished about you now. Youâre all heat, wetness, need, and broken little sounds against her mouth. âListen to yourself,â she murmurs, kissing your cheek. âThatâs what needing me sounds like.â
You whimper at that, embarrassed and turned on so sharply that it almost hurts. Maeve tightens her grip on your throat by a fraction, just enough to bring your attention back to her face. âEyes on me,â she says.
You force your eyes open, and she looks devastating beneath you, flushed from her own orgasm, lips swollen, hair mussed, robe open around her body. Sheâs sweating too, a fine shine on her chest and stomach, proof that sheâs not as untouchable as she pretends.
That thought makes your pussy clench again, and Maeveâs eyes darken because she feels it. âThereâs my girl,â she says, dragging her fingers out slow before pushing them back in deep. âYouâre so close, arenât you?â
âYes,â you gasp, the word cracking on the way out. Your forehead drops toward hers, but she keeps you upright with the hand at your throat, making sure she can see every second of you falling apart.
âPlease, mommy,â you beg, breathless and shaking. âPlease, Iâm close.â Maeveâs own breath catches at how sweet you sound begging for it, so needy and ruined and still trying to be good for her.
She curls her fingers harder, pressing into that spot inside you until your whole body jolts. âI know, baby,â she says, voice low and filthy. âI can feel you squeezing me.â Her mouth brushes yours as she adds, âGo on, make a mess on my fingers.â
The permission snaps through you like a lit fuse. Your orgasm rises so fast you barely have time to breathe before it takes over, hot and violent and blinding. Your thighs lock around her lap, hips jerking against her hand as your pussy pulses around her fingers.
Maeve holds you through it, hand steady at your throat, the other buried inside you while you cum hard enough to shake. âThatâs it,â she talks you through it, voice softer now but still commanding. âGood girl, just like that.â
You cry out against her mouth, body trembling as pleasure rolls through you in wave after wave. Maeve watches your face the entire time, awed despite herself, thinking thereâs no camera in the world that could make her feel as powerful as this.
She keeps her fingers inside you until the worst of the shaking passes. Not moving now, just holding you full while your body flutters helplessly around her.
You make a tiny, broken sound when she finally eases them out, and Maeve kisses it off your lips before it can turn embarrassed. âIâve got you,â she says immediately, the shift in her voice subtle but unmistakable. Her hand leaves your throat and moves to the back of your neck, warm and grounding.
She cups you there while her other hand rests on your hip, keeping you close against her. Youâre boneless in her lap, sweaty and sticky and still pulsing with aftershocks. Maeveâs expression softens as she looks at you, all the sharp edges folding inward for once.
âYou with me?â she asks, brushing damp hair back from your face. You nod, but itâs weak, so she waits until you manage words. âYeah,â you whisper. âIâm here.â Maeve hums, satisfied, then presses a slow kiss to your forehead.
Her lips linger there longer than they need to, and it makes your chest feel tender in a way the orgasm didnât. âGood,â she says quietly. âStay with me, sweetheart.â She shifts carefully, strong arms gathering you closer so your trembling body isnât doing any work.
For a while, she just holds you. The suite feels different now, less like a stage and more like a room two people have ruined together. The sheets are still too white, the skyline still glittering, the whiskey still untouched, but none of it matters with Maeveâs arms around you.
Your sweat cools slowly against her skin, and she rubs your back in steady circles until your breathing evens out. You tuck your face into her neck, catching the scent of her perfume,
her skin, and the faint trace of sex still clinging to both of you. Maeveâs fingers are gentle now, combing through your hair instead of gripping it. âYou did so well,â she murmurs. âSo good for me.â
You make a soft, embarrassed sound, and Maeve smiles against your temple. âDonât hide,â she says, but thereâs no bite to it this time. âNot from me.â She reaches for the robe with one hand and pulls it around both of you as best she can, covering your bare chest and cooling skin.
The silk is warm from her body, and you sink into it without thinking. Maeve notices the tiny shiver that runs through you and immediately tightens her arms. âCold?â she asks. You nod against her shoulder, and she kisses your hair. âIâll get you cleaned up first, then weâre getting under the covers.â
She lifts you like you weigh nothing, but she does it carefully, one arm under your thighs and the other around your back. The movement makes you whine from sensitivity, and Maeve pauses right away.
âToo much?â she asks, searching your face. âJust sensitive,â you whisper. Her mouth softens, and she kisses your cheek before carrying you to the bed. âI know, baby,â she says. âNo more teasing.â
She lays you down on the sheets with ridiculous gentleness for someone whoâd had her fingers inside you minutes ago. Then she disappears only long enough to wet a warm cloth in the bathroom.
When she comes back, her armour is still on the floor and the red robe is loose around her body, but her whole focus is on you. She cleans between your thighs slowly, avoiding anything too sensitive unless you guide her closer. Every time you twitch, she pauses and checks your face before continuing. âYouâre okay,â she murmurs, more promise than question.
âIâve got you.â You watch her through heavy eyes, still dazed from pleasure and affection, and whisper, âYouâre being soft.â Maeve glances up, a small, tired smile tugging at her mouth. âDonât tell anyone,â she says, and you laugh quietly enough that it turns into a sigh.
After sheâs done, she tosses the cloth aside and climbs into bed beside you. She pulls the ruined lingerie straps back into place just enough that nothing digs into your skin, then tugs the sheets over both of you. You curl into her immediately, cheek pressed to her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart beneath all that strength.
Maeve wraps one arm around your waist and keeps the other hand at the back of your head, holding you like something precious. âWater in a minute,â she says when she feels you getting sleepy. âThen sleep.â
You hum in protest, and she kisses your forehead again. âDonât argue with mommy after she just made you cum that hard,â she murmurs. You smile against her skin, soft and spent, and let her keep you there.
i need to suckle on mommyâs nipples while she comforts me after a bad day, calls me her sweet angel and plays with my cunnie to make me feel better >.<
doctor!shoko ieiri and nurse!suguru geto think you need another check up ê° à Ë. á”á”
they're sooo worried about your health!
cw: mdni, fem!suguru, this is bordeline harassment, fingering, nipple play, art by Dio_saurr
Every time you visit them, you always think the same thing: they are so unprofessional. Not only does the nurse wear the worldâs shorter skirt and deepest neckline, but the last time you had an appointment because of your terrible backache, their diagnosis was that you should touch yourself more, and even invest on some sexual toys.Â
When you received a call that your check up that you had scheduled six months later was moved up to next week, you knew something was up. You couldâve cancelled the appointment, but a part of you was also curious about what crazy thing they will do this time.Â
Suguru opened the door of the doctorâs office, her usual, borderline-pornographic outfit on. You look her up and down, her thick thighs and hips straining the fabric as well as the buttons on her shirt about to snap.Â
âHi, darling, how are you feeling?â she asked, taking your bag and coat away from you. She kept her hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the exam table. âYou can get naked and Doctor Ieiri will arrive shortly.â
âG-Get naked?â you repeated, looking at her a little terrified.Â
âWell, obviously, dear. Itâs a check up!âshe said, voice soft like she was explaining something obvious to a shy little patient. âHow else are we supposed to give you a proper examination?â
Your heart hammered while you peeled off your clothes under her gaze. âO-okay⊠if itâs really necessary,â you mumbled, voice shaky as you folded everything neatly.Â
Suguru didnât even pretend to look away. She leaned against the counter, thick thighs pressed together, the short skirt riding up so high you could almost see the curve where her ass met her legs. Every time you hesitated, she hummed softly, encouraging you.
âSuch a pretty patient.â
By the time you were completely bare, sitting on the edge of the exam table with your arms awkwardly crossed over your chest, the door opened and Doctor Ieiri stepped in. Shokoâs white coat was barely buttoned, the deep V of her cleavage on full display, black lace bra peeking out like it was part of the uniform. Her hair was messy in an effortlessly hot way, and the smirk she gave you made your stomach flip.
âOh good, youâre already undressed,â Shoko said as she walked over. âI hate wasting time. Howâs my favorite girl been?â
âI-Iâve been okay, Doctor,â you whispered, trying not to squirm too much under their stares. Suguru moved behind you first, warm hands sliding over your shoulders, thumbs pressing into the tight muscles there. âStill carrying all that tension in your back, hm? Poor thing. We told you what would help last time.â
Shoko stepped between your parted knees, gloved fingers already tracing lightly down your arms, then up your sides. Her touch was clinical at first, but the way she squeezed your waist, letting her thumbs brush just under your breasts, felt anything but.Â
âHave you been touching yourself like we recommended?â Shoko asked casually, eyes locked on yours while her hands roamed higher, cupping your breasts and giving them a thorough squeeze. âBe honest, sweetheart. We need to know if youâve been following doctorâs orders.â
Your breath hitched as you nodded quickly. âY-yes⊠almost every night.â
Suguruâs hands drifted lower, massaging your lower back before sliding around to your hips. Her breath was warm against your ear. âWe worry about you when you donât listen. A healthy pussy needs regular attention, you know. Orgasms help with everything; stress, sleep, even that stubborn back pain.â
âI know, Nurse Suguru,â you breathed out, voice soft and embarrassed. âIâve been trying.â
Shokoâs fingers teased your nipples until they hardened under her touch, rolling them gently while she watched your face. âMmm, responsive as always. Good girl. Now tell Nurse Suguru the truth. Have you been playing with this pretty cunt? Or have you been a naughty patient who needs us to demonstrate again?â
âI⊠I have been,â you admitted, cheeks flaming hotter. âBut sometimes I donât know if Iâm doing it right.â
Suguruâs hand slipped down to your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh as she spread your legs a little wider on the table. âWe can check everything today. Youâll let us, wonât you? Youâve been such a perfect patient so far.â
âYes⊠you can check,â you whispered, already so wet from their touches and words. The heat between your legs was unbearable.
Shoko leaned in closer, lips brushing your collarbone as she said, âShow us how you usually touch yourself, baby. We want to make sure youâre doing it right. And if youâre not, well, weâll have to correct you.â
You hesitated for a second, then slowly reached down, sliding your fingers between your slick folds with a shaky little moan. âLike this⊠I ah usually rub my clit in circles when I get really worked up.â
Suguru chuckled softly, her fingers tracing teasing circles on the inside of your thigh, inching closer but never quite there. âDonât be shy now. Weâre professionals. Just spread those legs a little more for us and show Doctor Ieiri exactly how you make yourself cum. Weâll watch very closely.âÂ
You spread your legs wider like they wanted, cheeks burning as you started circling your swollen clit with shaky fingers. Both of them watched so intently it made your whole body flush hotter. A needy whine slipped out before you could stop it.
âThat's my good girl,â Suguru praised, she leaned in closer, one hand still on your thigh. âA little faster, darling, you donât have to be so gentle with it.â
You moaned softly, fingers moving quicker under her guidance, hips twitching a little. âIt feelsâ ngh⊠so much better when youâre both watching,â you admitted, voice turning whiny as the pleasure built fast. Your pussy was soaked, slick sounds filling the room while Shokoâs eyes stayed glued between your legs.
âSuch a pretty cunt,â Shoko said, licking her lips. âKeep going, baby. Show us how desperate you can get.â
You got louder, needier, little gasps and whimpers falling from your mouth as you rubbed tighter circles. âPlease⊠Iâm getting mmphâ close already.â
Suguru smiled, her fingers stroking your inner thigh encouragingly. âDonât hold back. Let us hear those cute noises.â
Right when you were right on the edge, thighs trembling and breaths coming in short desperate pants, Shokoâs hand suddenly caught your wrist, pulling your fingers away. You let out a frustrated whine, hips bucking into nothing.
âNo, no, not yet,â she said calmly, though her smirk was pure teasing. âWe canât let you cum that easily, sweetheart.â
You squirmed on the table, so close it hurt, pussy throbbing and aching for release. âDoctor⊠please, I was so close,â you whimpered.
Shoko tilted her head, still holding your wrist while Suguruâs hand stayed teasingly close to where you needed it. âIf you want to cum today, youâre going to have to ask us nicely.â
You bit your lip, face burning with humiliation and heat as you looked between them. âPlease⊠I need your help. My pussyâs aching so bad. Can you please touch me and make me cum? Iâll be so good for you both, just⊠please donât leave me like this.âÂ
Suguru hummed approvingly, her fingers finally brushing against your slick folds. âSee? Wasnât that easy, darling? Now letâs take really good care of you.â
Suguruâs fingers didnât waste any time. She slid two thick digits right into your dripping pussy while Shoko moved in closer, taking over your tits with both hands. You moaned loud, back arching as Suguru started pumping slowly, curling her fingers just right against that spot inside you.
âOh fuck⊠Nurse Suguru,â you whimpered, legs shaking already.
âThatâs it, darling. So tight and wet for us,â Suguru cooed, leaning down to suck one of your nipples into her hot mouth while her thumb found your clit and rubbed firm circles. Shoko pinched and rolled your other nipple, squeezing your breasts like she owned them.
Shoko smirked against your skin. âListen to how sloppy your pussy sounds. You really did miss us, huh?â
You could only nod frantically, hips grinding down on Suguruâs fingers as they fucked you faster. âYes⊠I need it so bad. Please donât stop, Iâm gonnaâahh!â
Suguru switched to three fingers, stretching you open while her thumb kept working your swollen clit in messy strokes. Shoko bit down lightly on your nipple, then soothed it with her tongue, her hands groping and kneading your tits the whole time.
âCome on, baby,â Shoko whispered. âCum hard for us. Make a mess all over Nurse Suguruâs hand like a good girl.â
The pressure built so fast it made your head spin. You got whinier, desperate little cries spilling out as your thighs clamped around Suguruâs wrist. âIâm cummingâ fuck, Iâm cumming ahh!â
Your whole body tensed up, pussy clenching tight around Suguruâs fingers as you came with a broken moan. Slick gushed out around her hand, dripping down your thighs and onto the exam table while they kept touching you through it. Suguru didnât slow down, fucking you through every wave until you were shaking and oversensitive, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from how intense it felt.
Shoko kissed your neck softly, still playing with your tits. âGood girl. Such a pretty orgasm.â
You panted heavily, still twitching from the aftershocks. âT-Thank you⊠that felt so good,â you whispered, fucked out already. Suguru pulled her fingers out slowly, showing you how shiny and wet they were before licking them clean with a filthy little smile.
âSee? Told you regular check-ups are important,â Suguru said sweetly, her hand going back to rub your sensitive clit lightly. âNow breathe for us, darling. We still have to make sure you cum even harder next time.â
â summary it slipped out of your mouth before it even registered in your brain, you just called wanda âmommyâ by accident and she doesnât seem to mind ? [f!reader x mommy!wanda]
â warnings mommy kink , fingering, finger sucking, thigh riding, marking, teasing, feral wanda :3, overstimulation, degrading, biting, spanking, name calling (sweetheart, good girl, malysh, etc.), kinda badly written aftercare ngl, not proofread, men & minors dni
â a/n comeback after 5 months, i've been busy bc of school :(( hope yall like this and are as feral for mommy wanda as i am
wanda had you cradled against her. your back against her front as she slipped her ringed fingers in and out of your crying cunt. she spoke the dirtiest words with the sweetest fucking tone as she thrusted her fingers into you, her other hand wiping tears away from your cheek.
"i can't, i can't, please! s' too much!" you cried into her chest, thighs begging to be closed because even you came down from your third orgasm, wanda never stopped the pace.
finally, she pulls her glistening fingers out of your cunt for the first time in⊠god knows how long, then holds it up to your face, spreading her fingers to show you the string of wetness connecting them.
âif you wanted me to stop you wouldnât be making such a mess, hm ?â wanda hums, her lips brushing against your ear. she pushes her fingers into your mouth, pressing them against your tongue and making you taste yourself before thrusting the spit-soaked fingers back into your dripping cunt with a low groan.Â
âyour mouth is telling me to stopâŠâ she sighs, âbut your pussy,â she lightly pinches your clit, sending waves of electricity up your spine and a loud moan out of your mouth, âis telling me a different storyâŠâÂ
âf-fuck !â you cry, tears brimming in your eyes, your thighs are trying their best to clamp shut but wanda keeps them open by hooking her legs around yours.Â
your back arches against her front, âmommy please ! i canât-âÂ
the title slips out of your mouth before it even registers in your brain.Â
then your eyes widen, you realise your slip up. wandaâs fingers stop their relentless thrusting.
âi- i donât know why i said thatâŠâ you push yourself away from wanda and quickly scramble to explain yourself, âi- i didnât mean to say that, it just slipped out, im sorry wand-â
before you can even complete your sentence, wanda reaches for your waist and flips your body around so youâre now lying on your back, she hovers over you and her fingers enter you again, âno, not wanda,â she shakes her head lightly, her face right above yours as her eyes darken in a way you havenât seen before, "i'm your mommy, isnât that right ?â she fucks into you even harder.Â
hearing wandaâs words, your pussy clenches around her fingers, a moan slips out of your lips as your hips jerk upwards against her hand, the movement presses your clit against her palm and your thighs immediately attempt to clamp shut despite the intrusion that is wandaâs body between them.Â
âyeah, thatâs it sweetheart,â she mumbles, pressing kisses against your neck, her movements are sloppy and feral, teeth scraping against your skin and her free hand grabbing for whatever part of your body is available to her. she palms your breast before her nails dig into the soft skin, sure to leave red crescent moon shaped marks for the next few days.Â
but wanda still needs more, needs more contact, so her legs straddle your thigh as she continues pumping her fingers into you, her hips grind against your thigh and you can feel the wet patch forming on her panties.Â
âw-wanda what are y- too much- fuckâŠâ you cry, her fingers pushing in and out of your pussy in a way youâve never felt, her fingers repeatedly hit that spongey part inside of you making you let out a whorish moan at every thrust.Â
then a bite against a particularly sensitive part of your neck, the pain shoots through your body sharply but then melts down into a hot achy feeling between your legs that makes you grind against wandaâs fingers. you gasp and immediately reach for wandaâs head, not exactly pushing her away but your fingers tangle in her red hair, grasping at her scalp.Â
âwhat did i just tell you, huh ?â wanda asks you condescendingly, her lips brushing against your neck as she spoke, âjust a dumb little girlâŠâ she murmurs.Â
wandaâs lips finally leave your neck so her head can come up to look you in the eye, her pupils are blown in a way you never thought possible and glued to the way your eyes are brimming with fresh tears. her hand cups your cheek and her thumb brushes against your lips with uncharacteristic sweetness, you lean into her touch as you let out unintelligible whines.Â
âtoomuchtoomuchtoomuch,â you cry, your face almost trying to burrow into wandaâs hand for some form of comfort as you squirm in her grasp, trying to escape the way she's plowing her fingers into your pussy. you were feeling so fucking sensitive after the many orgasms she gave you and she was anything but caring towards the way you were feeling right now. your hands reach between your thighs for wandaâs, grasping at her forearm to try to get her to slow down.Â
âuh uh, malysh,â she tuts, removing her hand from your cheek to grab your wrists and pin them above your head, âyou wanted me to be your mommy, right ?â she asks with a slight tilt of her head, a small smirk forming on her lips, âiâm just giving you what you want.âÂ
âmaybe my ears are broken but⊠i donât hear you saying your safe word, so lie there and take it like a good girl,â wandaâs voice is smooth as honey as she speaks, âyou donât want me to tie you up, do you ?â and it isn't a threat, it isnât a question either, itâs a promise of what sheâll do to you if you deny her.Â
you panickily shake your head, âno- no i dont want that.â you hiccup, already imagining how long you'll be in this position if she ties you up, body vulnerable to everything she wants to do to you and more.Â
âthatâs what i thought,â she smiles and then leans down to kiss your tear stained cheeks ânow be a good girl for mommy, hm ? let mommy use you.â
wanda removes her grasp from your wrists, trusting that youâll leave your arms up there and you do, hands curling up in an attempt to stop yourself from pushing wanda away from your sensitive cunt.Â
âwhatâs my name ?â she asks, her eyes scanning your face for every tremor of your lips and flutter of your eyelashes, she wants to make sure you give her the right answer, the answer you were giving her just now before getting so embarrassed.
you know what she wants to hear but that embarrassment adorning your cheeks doesnât want to give in, doesnât let you say what she wants to hear or what you, deep down, want to say. you open your mouth nervously, lips trembling as you give her your answer.
âwan-âÂ
wrong answer.Â
suddenly thereâs a red hot sting between your legs. wandaâs hand comes down on your clit, smacking it with precision, your thighs immediately try to clamp shut but wandaâs knee between your legs pushes outwards and makes sure that you canât.Â
âno mommy, no !â you cry, hands immediately leaving their position above their head to try to push her hand away, âiâm sorry mommy ! please mommy !â you sob, immediately giving in to what she wants to hear, you didnât need anymore convincing.Â
wanda hums, a little sound of satisfaction.Â
âhands back up.â wanda gives you a look, a reminder of her previous promise. her hand hovers above your clit as well, prepared to smack you again if you didnât listen.Â
you agonisingly slowly put your hands back up above your head with a whine, a small protest of your own that wanda chooses not to do anything about. your legs are trembling, prepared to clamp shut again if she tries to smack you again.
âgood girl.â she praises, her finger delve back into the velvety walls of your pussy with a small smile on her lips.
as wanda settles back into her rhythm, the pace is no longer just frantic, itâs relentless and methodical, every thrust of her fingers aim to draw a noise out of you, a whimper, a moan, a whine, itâs all music to wandaâs ears. her pussy continues grinding against your thigh, her arousal spreading across the expanse of your skin as she angles herself so that her clit hits against you perfectly every time, when she finally finds that spot her eyes roll back and she bites her lip, she lets out shallow breaths and small grunts as her hips grind against your thigh with the same rhythm that her fingers are fucking into you. her fingers hook deep in your cunt finding that sensitive, swollen spot and your hips buck upwards involuntarily.Â
âfor someone who wanted me to stop, you seem awfully desperateâŠâ wanda mutters, her voice dropping into that register that makes your stomach fill with jittery butterflies.Â
your cheeks grow into an even darker shade of red if possible from hearing her words. your hips grind against her hand as she fucks you, everything that happened, the way she smacked your pussy, her fingers in your cunt, the humiliation from accidentally calling her mommy, her lower register, it all melted together into a hot tingly knot in your lower stomach.Â
âfuckâŠâ wanda groans, her hips pushing against your thigh with her head keeled back. she looks down at her fingers disappearing in and out of your pussy and almost has to stop herself from letting out a moan.Â
âgonna cum all pretty on mommyâs fingers like a good girl ?â wanda watches you get closer, watches that feeling build up again despite the overstimulation, all while knowing that you know sheâs not gonna stop.Â
âi canât, mommy⊠its too muchâŠâ you whine.Â
âyes you can, malysh. youâre gonna cum for me one last time, just- fuck- one more and weâre all done,â wanda bites her lip, rubbing your clit even harder, her hips starting to grind against your hips sloppier, her breaths get shallower, clear that she was also close.Â
your back arches violently with the way her fingers curl into you and your walls clench around her fingers, practically sucking her in.Â
âjust one more lyubov, i know my good girl can do it.â her voice feels like a hot chill running down your spine. her voice trembles as she speaks, sheâs almost there too.Â
every muscle in your body locks tight, your back bowing off the mattress as a loud combination of a moan and whine gets torn out of your lungs. itâs all too much and too everything and all you can do is ride the sensation that wanda is making you endure.Â
before you know it, your legs shake and you cover wandaâs hand with your release. wandaâs hips press particularly hard against your thigh and she cums not too long after, her fingers in your cunt stopping their motions as her pussy squirts all over your thigh.Â
âgood girl- good fucking girl- god- mommyâs dirty little girlâ wanda gasps, she leans forward and trails kisses against your neck, moving up until her lips meet yours.Â
âmommy donât stop, mommy please-â you cry against her lips, hips wiggling, clearly wanting her fingers in you again. wanda lets you ride out your orgasm on her fingers, it feels all too much and you were clearly too sensitive down there right now but it just felt so fucking good you couldnât get enough.Â
âthank you mommy- thank you thank you thank youâ you mumble as you come down from your orgasm, âthank you mommy.âÂ
your head gets fuzzy and goes to that floaty headspace wanda loves you in, you feel like youâre floating, held in place and still on earth only by the weight of wandaâs body and the heavy intoxicating pull of her presence.Â
when the aftershocks begin to subside, leaving you heavy limbed and too tired to move, you feel wandaâs fingers leave you and you whine, not enjoying the fullness that was taken away from you. then you feel a kiss against your forehead, wanda says a few words that didnât register in your brain and her presence falls away.Â
a few seconds after she leaves is only when you truly realise that sheâs left. your eyes blink against the lights that look way harsher than usual and you bite your lip anxiously.Â
âmommy ? mommy where are youâŠâ you mumble, curling in on yourself, missing her warmth.Â
her voice comes from afar, âiâm coming malysh, mommyâs right here, she just went to grab something to make you feel better, okay baby ?âÂ
it all went in one ear and out the other for you, just a string of words pieced together that didnât make any sense.Â
just as you were about to call for her again, she appears in front of you, you smile and your arms weakly reach out for her.
âwant you.âÂ
wanda lets out a happy sigh, âwe gotta clean you up moya lyubov, afterwards we can cuddle okay ?âÂ
you nod sleepily, feeling wanda press the warm towel against your skin. you wiggle a little when wanda softly rubs the towel against your sticky inner thighs, they still felt sensitive and the towel felt rough against your skin.Â
âshhh itâs okay baby, weâre almost done,â wanda reassures you, making quick work with cleaning your thighs before moving on. it was probably only 5 minutes but it already felt like hours to you.Â
when wanda was finally done, she leaves you again for a moment, but this time she gives you a pillow to cuddle while you waited.Â
she took her time away to put the towel in the laundry basket and clean herself up but before you knew it, you felt a dip in the bed and slender arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to wanda.Â
she pulls you close and guides your head to rest against her chest, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.Â
âyou did so good for me today malysh, i love you so much,â she mutters praises between kisses against your head. all the while, your eyes slowly flutter shut as you drift away, listening to the sound of wandaâs voic as you fall asleep.
â a/n can u guys tell idk how to write orgasms and aftercare idk. i like lowkey need to start reading more orgasm and (especially) aftercare writing this is embarrassing đ like i want everyone to know that this fic was delayed by a day bc i didnât like how i wrote the aftercare, i still donât and cringed at it but i gave up đ„Čđ„Čđ„Č
extra a/n this is my third attempt at posting this tumblr pls stop being mean, im just a girl who wants mommy wanda inside of me okay thank you
â summary it slipped out of your mouth before it even registered in your brain, you just called wanda âmommyâ by accident and she doesnât seem to mind ? [f!reader x mommy!wanda]
â warnings mommy kink , fingering, finger sucking, thigh riding, marking, teasing, feral wanda :3, overstimulation, degrading, biting, spanking, name calling (sweetheart, good girl, malysh, etc.), kinda badly written aftercare ngl, not proofread, men & minors dni
â a/n comeback after 5 months, i've been busy bc of school :(( hope yall like this and are as feral for mommy wanda as i am
wanda had you cradled against her. your back against her front as she slipped her ringed fingers in and out of your crying cunt. she spoke the dirtiest words with the sweetest fucking tone as she thrusted her fingers into you, her other hand wiping tears away from your cheek.
"i can't, i can't, please! s' too much!" you cried into her chest, thighs begging to be closed because even you came down from your third orgasm, wanda never stopped the pace.
finally, she pulls her glistening fingers out of your cunt for the first time in⊠god knows how long, then holds it up to your face, spreading her fingers to show you the string of wetness connecting them.
âif you wanted me to stop you wouldnât be making such a mess, hm ?â wanda hums, her lips brushing against your ear. she pushes her fingers into your mouth, pressing them against your tongue and making you taste yourself before thrusting the spit-soaked fingers back into your dripping cunt with a low groan.Â
âyour mouth is telling me to stopâŠâ she sighs, âbut your pussy,â she lightly pinches your clit, sending waves of electricity up your spine and a loud moan out of your mouth, âis telling me a different storyâŠâÂ
âf-fuck !â you cry, tears brimming in your eyes, your thighs are trying their best to clamp shut but wanda keeps them open by hooking her legs around yours.Â
your back arches against her front, âmommy please ! i canât-âÂ
the title slips out of your mouth before it even registers in your brain.Â
then your eyes widen, you realise your slip up. wandaâs fingers stop their relentless thrusting.
âi- i donât know why i said thatâŠâ you push yourself away from wanda and quickly scramble to explain yourself, âi- i didnât mean to say that, it just slipped out, im sorry wand-â
before you can even complete your sentence, wanda reaches for your waist and flips your body around so youâre now lying on your back, she hovers over you and her fingers enter you again, âno, not wanda,â she shakes her head lightly, her face right above yours as her eyes darken in a way you havenât seen before, "i'm your mommy, isnât that right ?â she fucks into you even harder.Â
hearing wandaâs words, your pussy clenches around her fingers, a moan slips out of your lips as your hips jerk upwards against her hand, the movement presses your clit against her palm and your thighs immediately attempt to clamp shut despite the intrusion that is wandaâs body between them.Â
âyeah, thatâs it sweetheart,â she mumbles, pressing kisses against your neck, her movements are sloppy and feral, teeth scraping against your skin and her free hand grabbing for whatever part of your body is available to her. she palms your breast before her nails dig into the soft skin, sure to leave red crescent moon shaped marks for the next few days.Â
but wanda still needs more, needs more contact, so her legs straddle your thigh as she continues pumping her fingers into you, her hips grind against your thigh and you can feel the wet patch forming on her panties.Â
âw-wanda what are y- too much- fuckâŠâ you cry, her fingers pushing in and out of your pussy in a way youâve never felt, her fingers repeatedly hit that spongey part inside of you making you let out a whorish moan at every thrust.Â
then a bite against a particularly sensitive part of your neck, the pain shoots through your body sharply but then melts down into a hot achy feeling between your legs that makes you grind against wandaâs fingers. you gasp and immediately reach for wandaâs head, not exactly pushing her away but your fingers tangle in her red hair, grasping at her scalp.Â
âwhat did i just tell you, huh ?â wanda asks you condescendingly, her lips brushing against your neck as she spoke, âjust a dumb little girlâŠâ she murmurs.Â
wandaâs lips finally leave your neck so her head can come up to look you in the eye, her pupils are blown in a way you never thought possible and glued to the way your eyes are brimming with fresh tears. her hand cups your cheek and her thumb brushes against your lips with uncharacteristic sweetness, you lean into her touch as you let out unintelligible whines.Â
âtoomuchtoomuchtoomuch,â you cry, your face almost trying to burrow into wandaâs hand for some form of comfort as you squirm in her grasp, trying to escape the way she's plowing her fingers into your pussy. you were feeling so fucking sensitive after the many orgasms she gave you and she was anything but caring towards the way you were feeling right now. your hands reach between your thighs for wandaâs, grasping at her forearm to try to get her to slow down.Â
âuh uh, malysh,â she tuts, removing her hand from your cheek to grab your wrists and pin them above your head, âyou wanted me to be your mommy, right ?â she asks with a slight tilt of her head, a small smirk forming on her lips, âiâm just giving you what you want.âÂ
âmaybe my ears are broken but⊠i donât hear you saying your safe word, so lie there and take it like a good girl,â wandaâs voice is smooth as honey as she speaks, âyou donât want me to tie you up, do you ?â and it isn't a threat, it isnât a question either, itâs a promise of what sheâll do to you if you deny her.Â
you panickily shake your head, âno- no i dont want that.â you hiccup, already imagining how long you'll be in this position if she ties you up, body vulnerable to everything she wants to do to you and more.Â
âthatâs what i thought,â she smiles and then leans down to kiss your tear stained cheeks ânow be a good girl for mommy, hm ? let mommy use you.â
wanda removes her grasp from your wrists, trusting that youâll leave your arms up there and you do, hands curling up in an attempt to stop yourself from pushing wanda away from your sensitive cunt.Â
âwhatâs my name ?â she asks, her eyes scanning your face for every tremor of your lips and flutter of your eyelashes, she wants to make sure you give her the right answer, the answer you were giving her just now before getting so embarrassed.
you know what she wants to hear but that embarrassment adorning your cheeks doesnât want to give in, doesnât let you say what she wants to hear or what you, deep down, want to say. you open your mouth nervously, lips trembling as you give her your answer.
âwan-âÂ
wrong answer.Â
suddenly thereâs a red hot sting between your legs. wandaâs hand comes down on your clit, smacking it with precision, your thighs immediately try to clamp shut but wandaâs knee between your legs pushes outwards and makes sure that you canât.Â
âno mommy, no !â you cry, hands immediately leaving their position above their head to try to push her hand away, âiâm sorry mommy ! please mommy !â you sob, immediately giving in to what she wants to hear, you didnât need anymore convincing.Â
wanda hums, a little sound of satisfaction.Â
âhands back up.â wanda gives you a look, a reminder of her previous promise. her hand hovers above your clit as well, prepared to smack you again if you didnât listen.Â
you agonisingly slowly put your hands back up above your head with a whine, a small protest of your own that wanda chooses not to do anything about. your legs are trembling, prepared to clamp shut again if she tries to smack you again.
âgood girl.â she praises, her finger delve back into the velvety walls of your pussy with a small smile on her lips.
as wanda settles back into her rhythm, the pace is no longer just frantic, itâs relentless and methodical, every thrust of her fingers aim to draw a noise out of you, a whimper, a moan, a whine, itâs all music to wandaâs ears. her pussy continues grinding against your thigh, her arousal spreading across the expanse of your skin as she angles herself so that her clit hits against you perfectly every time, when she finally finds that spot her eyes roll back and she bites her lip, she lets out shallow breaths and small grunts as her hips grind against your thigh with the same rhythm that her fingers are fucking into you. her fingers hook deep in your cunt finding that sensitive, swollen spot and your hips buck upwards involuntarily.Â
âfor someone who wanted me to stop, you seem awfully desperateâŠâ wanda mutters, her voice dropping into that register that makes your stomach fill with jittery butterflies.Â
your cheeks grow into an even darker shade of red if possible from hearing her words. your hips grind against her hand as she fucks you, everything that happened, the way she smacked your pussy, her fingers in your cunt, the humiliation from accidentally calling her mommy, her lower register, it all melted together into a hot tingly knot in your lower stomach.Â
âfuckâŠâ wanda groans, her hips pushing against your thigh with her head keeled back. she looks down at her fingers disappearing in and out of your pussy and almost has to stop herself from letting out a moan.Â
âgonna cum all pretty on mommyâs fingers like a good girl ?â wanda watches you get closer, watches that feeling build up again despite the overstimulation, all while knowing that you know sheâs not gonna stop.Â
âi canât, mommy⊠its too muchâŠâ you whine.Â
âyes you can, malysh. youâre gonna cum for me one last time, just- fuck- one more and weâre all done,â wanda bites her lip, rubbing your clit even harder, her hips starting to grind against your hips sloppier, her breaths get shallower, clear that she was also close.Â
your back arches violently with the way her fingers curl into you and your walls clench around her fingers, practically sucking her in.Â
âjust one more lyubov, i know my good girl can do it.â her voice feels like a hot chill running down your spine. her voice trembles as she speaks, sheâs almost there too.Â
every muscle in your body locks tight, your back bowing off the mattress as a loud combination of a moan and whine gets torn out of your lungs. itâs all too much and too everything and all you can do is ride the sensation that wanda is making you endure.Â
before you know it, your legs shake and you cover wandaâs hand with your release. wandaâs hips press particularly hard against your thigh and she cums not too long after, her fingers in your cunt stopping their motions as her pussy squirts all over your thigh.Â
âgood girl- good fucking girl- god- mommyâs dirty little girlâ wanda gasps, she leans forward and trails kisses against your neck, moving up until her lips meet yours.Â
âmommy donât stop, mommy please-â you cry against her lips, hips wiggling, clearly wanting her fingers in you again. wanda lets you ride out your orgasm on her fingers, it feels all too much and you were clearly too sensitive down there right now but it just felt so fucking good you couldnât get enough.Â
âthank you mommy- thank you thank you thank youâ you mumble as you come down from your orgasm, âthank you mommy.âÂ
your head gets fuzzy and goes to that floaty headspace wanda loves you in, you feel like youâre floating, held in place and still on earth only by the weight of wandaâs body and the heavy intoxicating pull of her presence.Â
when the aftershocks begin to subside, leaving you heavy limbed and too tired to move, you feel wandaâs fingers leave you and you whine, not enjoying the fullness that was taken away from you. then you feel a kiss against your forehead, wanda says a few words that didnât register in your brain and her presence falls away.Â
a few seconds after she leaves is only when you truly realise that sheâs left. your eyes blink against the lights that look way harsher than usual and you bite your lip anxiously.Â
âmommy ? mommy where are youâŠâ you mumble, curling in on yourself, missing her warmth.Â
her voice comes from afar, âiâm coming malysh, mommyâs right here, she just went to grab something to make you feel better, okay baby ?âÂ
it all went in one ear and out the other for you, just a string of words pieced together that didnât make any sense.Â
just as you were about to call for her again, she appears in front of you, you smile and your arms weakly reach out for her.
âwant you.âÂ
wanda lets out a happy sigh, âwe gotta clean you up moya lyubov, afterwards we can cuddle okay ?âÂ
you nod sleepily, feeling wanda press the warm towel against your skin. you wiggle a little when wanda softly rubs the towel against your sticky inner thighs, they still felt sensitive and the towel felt rough against your skin.Â
âshhh itâs okay baby, weâre almost done,â wanda reassures you, making quick work with cleaning your thighs before moving on. it was probably only 5 minutes but it already felt like hours to you.Â
when wanda was finally done, she leaves you again for a moment, but this time she gives you a pillow to cuddle while you waited.Â
she took her time away to put the towel in the laundry basket and clean herself up but before you knew it, you felt a dip in the bed and slender arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to wanda.Â
she pulls you close and guides your head to rest against her chest, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.Â
âyou did so good for me today malysh, i love you so much,â she mutters praises between kisses against your head. all the while, your eyes slowly flutter shut as you drift away, listening to the sound of wandaâs voic as you fall asleep.
â a/n can u guys tell idk how to write orgasms and aftercare idk. i like lowkey need to start reading more orgasm and (especially) aftercare writing this is embarrassing đ like i want everyone to know that this fic was delayed by a day bc i didnât like how i wrote the aftercare, i still donât and cringed at it but i gave up đ„Čđ„Čđ„Č
extra a/n this is my third attempt at posting this tumblr pls stop being mean, im just a girl who wants mommy wanda inside of me okay thank you
shoko ieiri knows a way for your period to go away faster ê° à Ë. á”á”
cw: mdni, clit play, overstimulation, period sex
She finds you on the verge of dying in the couch, with an empty tub of strawberry ice cream and a half-eaten sandwich. You're watching the last season of Community, because you were in the mood of something slightly nostalgic, but your pillow was wet with tears after any minor thing.
"The fuck is happening with you?" she asks, stopping right in front of you.
You clutch your stomach in pain, whining and twisting. That's enough for her to realize what's happening with you.
"You know, I read somewhere that if you get in the bathtub and have six clitoral orgasms and after every orgasm you cover and blow your nose, apparently your period lasts like... two days."
You blink up at her, wondering why is that the first thing that you best friend tells you after appearing in your apartment without any message.
"Shoko, it's too early for this shit," you whine, flopping your head back and switching positions, but you can't because any other way of laying down either hurts your boobs, your back or your stomach. "Maybe I should remove my vagina."
"Maybe you should, but while you make that decision, I think cumming six times it's an affordable solution," she says, sitting in the couch.
"Shoko, you're a doctor, would you make me a discount to remove my uterus?"
You can hear her sigh and she's definitely smiling at you. "Try with the orgasms first and we'll talk about it."
You blink at her, your brain foggy from the cramps twisting through your belly. You force yourself to stand a little, resting your back in the arm of the couch, staring at Shoko with tired eyes and crumbs in your mouth.
"There's no way I can make myself cum six times," you tell her, pouting a little. "I'd pass out after two, tops. Probably die after three."
"That's fine, I can help."
"Huh."
"I'll help you cum six times."
"Yeah, I heard you."
"Let's go to the tub then."
"I haven't agreed to this."
ORGASM NÂș1
She prepared a nice warm bath with low water because you're definitely the type who kicks when their close and you would splash water everywhere. Shoko gets in first, completely naked, her pretty nipples hard against your back as you position yourself between your legs.
"This is crazy," you whisper.
But you let her press her hands in your lower belly, just that and the warmth of the bathroom making you feel much better.
"Mmm," you let out a little sound involuntarily, your breath becoming louder.
"Can I touch you? Or do you want the first one?" she asks, pressing her cheek to yours.
"You can touch me uh, all you want."
You don't want to think about how weird this is, so you just part your legs, giving her access to find your clit easily and start circling it slowly.
Her fingers somehow know exactly how to make you feel good, because with a few circles she already has you gasping and moaning.
"Fuck, that feels fucking good," you say, your head dropping to her shoulder.
With one hand she flicking your clit and with the other she's playing with your breast while she whispers filthy things in your ears. She knows what a sucker for praise you are, so she makes sure you know how hot and pretty you look right now.
"Sho, 'm cumming!" It's the only warning you can give her before your back arches and your orgasm breaks through your body.
"That was fast. Your body really needed this, huh?" she whispers to your ear. Her hand moves to your nose, pinching your nose. "Blow."
You obey, blowing your nose as hard as you can.
"Good girl. One down," she says softly against your skin, grinning. "Five more to go, cutie. Think you can handle it?"
ORGASM NÂș2
When you nod, she starts moving again, exploring and learning exactly how you like it. Two fingers glide over your clit, then dip down a little before coming back up.
You let out another soft sound, your head tipping back once again against her.
"Shoko... just like that." Your legs part wider without you even thinking about it, one foot sliding along the tub. She takes the hint and speeds up just enough, rubbing you in tight little circles that make your tummy flutter.
The second one builds slower, you grab onto her thigh under the water, nails digging in a bit as your breathing gets loud and shaky again. She just holds you closer, free hand rubbing your lower belly in time with her fingers on your clit.
"Come on, baby. Let me have another one," she whispers, nipping at your earlobe.
Oh and that sweet, sexy voice of her is what does it. The orgasm rolls through you deeper this time, making your whole body tense and then melt back against her. Water sloshes a tiny bit but nothing crazy. Shoko keeps you safe in her arms the whole time, murmuring soft praises while you ride it out.
"Two," she counts with a grin you can hear in her voice. She's covering your nose again and you blow hard without a command. "Do you need a little break?"
You turn your head just enough to look at her, eyes half-lidded and heart racing. "Don't stop," you breathe out. "Feels too good... and my stomach doesn't hurt as much."
She smiles, soft and a little fond, and slides her hand lower again. "I've got you, baby."
ORGASM NÂș5
You wonder if you're a person anymore. Your body feels boneless, every muscle loose and heavy, Shoko's still behind you, holding you up with one arm around your waist while her fingers work between your legs.
You've been in the bathtub for more than an hour, each of your orgasms more intense and hotter, the cramps decreasing every time.
"Shoko, I-I can't... mmmh," you babble.
Tears are slipping down your cheeks now, not from pain but from how overwhelming it feels. Everything is too much and not enough at the same time. Your head lolls back against her shoulder, mouth open as soft, dumb little sounds keep falling out.
"You're doing so good for me," she whispers, kissing the side of your wet face. "Two left, baby, just two left."
Her fingers circle your clit perfectly, not too fast, not too slow, exactly how you need it after four orgasms already. You try to say something else but it just comes out as a shaky whimper, legs twitching weakly in the water. You're crying harder now, quiet sobs mixing with moans as the pleasure coils tight in your belly again.
"I⊠I'm gonna⊠Shoko, pleaseâŠ" you mumble, not even sure what you're begging for anymore. Your hand weakly grabs her wrist, not to stop her but just to hold on.
She presses her cheek to yours. "Let go. Come for me."
The fifth orgasm crashes over you like a heavy wave. Your whole body shakes, thighs trembling as you cry out her name in a broken sob. Itâs not sharp like the first ones. Tears keep rolling as the pleasure rolls through you, leaving you gasping and babbling nonsense.
"Too much⊠love you so much I canât⊠ShokoâŠ"
She slows her fingers but doesn't pull away right away, gently stroking you through the aftershocks while you float there, completely dumb and spent. Her free hand rubs your belly in slow circles.
"You're incredible, baby," she whispers proudly against your hair, pressing soft kisses to your temple. She covers your nose once again. "Just breathe, okay? I'm right here."
"Mhm," You can barely nod, eyes half closed, still sniffling and twitching every few seconds as little waves keep hitting you.
ORGASM NÂș6
You're so tired now. Tears won't stop coming, slipping quietly down your flushed cheeks as you lean completely against Shoko.
"Last one, baby," she whispers gently, her fingers finding your clit again. "You've been so good for me. I'm so proud of you."
You let out a shaky sob, nodding even though your head feels too heavy. "Shoko⊠I'm so tired," you mumble.
Your legs are barely staying open anymore, trembling every time she touches you. Everything feels too sensitive, too raw, but her touch is still so perfect it makes fresh tears roll down.
She kisses your temple, then your wet cheek, whispering soft praises the whole time. "You did amazing. Look at you, taking everything I give you. My strong girl. Just one more and we're done, okay? Let me make you feel good."
Her fingers move slow and careful, circling your swollen clit with just the right pressure. You cry harder, little whimpers and sniffles mixing together as the pleasure starts building again.
"I love you⊠thank you⊠feels so much," you babble through the tears, not even sure if the words make sense.
Shoko's voice stays so warm and full of pride. "Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me one last time. You're doing it so well."
Your whole body tenses for a moment then melts completely, shaking with soft cries as waves of pleasure roll through you. You sob her name, tears streaming while your thighs twitch weakly in the water. It lasts longer than the others, leaving you completely boneless and floating in that hazy space.
Shoko keeps whispering over and over how proud she is. She taps your shoulder so you blow hard one last time. "That's it⊠there you go. I'm so proud of my girl."
When it finally fades, you're just a tired, teary mess in her arms, sniffling and breathing hard. She pulls you closer, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair. "All done. You did it. Rest now, okay? I'll take care of everything."
"Mm." You nod weakly, eyes closing as the last of the tears slip out.
"Don't pass out, okay?"
"Mm."
You don't even know if that's going to make your period go away sooner, but all those orgasms and all those praises felt so fucking good coming from your best friend
