I'm going to *remembers suicide is often not a desire for death itself but rather an attempt to radically change one's life because the current state of being has become unbearable but the person can't think of any way to change it other than death* kill myself
nobody talks about how exhausting it is to live in that space between "things will get better" and "i can't handle this anymore." it's like your emotions are constantly swinging. leaving you both hopeful and defeated in the same day.
the head tilt. the eyeliner. her jawline. those collarbones. the teeny bit of cleavage. her cheekbones. THAT LOOK. her cute button nose. the high ponytail! the necklace. the leather jacket.. OH MY FUCKING GOD. emo wanda is grossly underrated. i will take that to my grave.
please please please can someone indulge me here in my ask box n we can talk about all emo wanda thoughts 👉🏻👈🏻🖤
I just dreamt about meeting Lizzie, and now that I'm awake I feel so extremely sad and empty. Despite the fact that I was basically making a fool of myself the entire time in the dream.
Hey hru? Saw you were online while reading your work, just thought to say hi and check on u
-🦭
hi!! thank you, that's actually so sweet! I'm alright, just finding somthing to do to keep my mind occupied eheh. how are you?? and thank you for reading, btw 🫶🏻
You had been wandering around your neighborhood for some time, hands in your pockets, one tightly clutching your phone, as if holding it close could somehow prevent you from missing its ringing, beeping, or vibrating. Your eyes scanned the surroundings, observing every house, every courtyard, every fence, and every person just walking by. You tried to guess where each one of them might be heading: some to work, some to school, and others to meet a friend, a coworker, or a family member. You found yourself studying their clothes and their expressions, wondering what each of them might be doing in a few minutes.
You had tried everything, your mind grasping at anything and everything at once, your feet moving almost on their own, carrying you down the road as you struggled to focus on anything other than the simple, painful truth: Wanda still hadn't replied to your text.
You had tried to convince yourself she was just busy and tried to tell yourself she might have gone straight to bed when she got home. After all, that was exactly what your mother had done, so it could make sense. You had tried to think of every possible explanation for why she hadn't texted you back yet. Usually, you weren’t so fixated on how quickly she responded, but your mind kept going back to your mother’s words about how Wanda had managed to protect them all, a new side of her power. You were fairly certain that something as powerful as this new aspect of Wanda’s magic could mean she wasn’t used to it yet, that she hadn’t trained enough, leaving her drained, physically and mentally.
As you got completely lost in your thoughts, consumed by worries about the witch, you suddenly found yourself in front of a familiar fence, your eyes locking onto the brownish gate before you. The name “Maximoff” was engraved on a small stone to the right of the gate, and you stared at it as if it were the first time you had seen it, almost as if you were already looking at her.
Your hand rose, almost instinctively, and gently pushed the gate open. You knew Wanda never actually bothered to close it. In fact, that was how you had ended up on her couch more times than you could count. Usually after a small squabble with your mother, whether over your studies or simply what you wanted for dinner. You wouldn’t normally talk it through with Wanda; there wasn’t much to discuss. You just needed space from your mother; a few moments to cool off, to let the sharp edge of your frustration soften into silence. And those were the moments where Wanda seemed to know exactly how to soothe and distract you, how to make you forget about your little tiff with your mother and focus on anything else the witch was more than happy to set your mind on.
You made your way to Wanda’s front door. You had no idea why you were doing it or what you would even say to her. But deep down, you just needed to make sure she was unharmed. That she was as okay as she could be. That, if anything, she was healing, recovering.
Your eyes stayed fixed ahead, scanning the windows of her house, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, anything to let you know she was, at least in some way, okay.
As you reached the porch, your hand lifted once more, this time to gently knock on her door. Your heart was pounding against your ribcage, your mind reeling, torn between what you were going to say to her and what state she might be in.
The door creaked open, and there she was. Wanda stood in front of you, her features a little paler than usual, her hair loosely tied back, strands falling over her face in soft disarray. There was a small cut on her temple, barely dried, and a faint bruise on her jaw. But it was her eyes that struck you the most: tired, yes, but also wide with surprise.
She blinked once, then again, as if trying to make sure you were really there.
“Hey,” she said, her voice softer than you expected; touched, maybe even a little relieved. You didn’t speak. You just looked at each other for a second too long, the silence between you heavy but not uncomfortable. Wanda’s lips curved into a small, tired smile. “You came.”
At the soft sound of her voice, you couldn’t help but smile back, your lips unconsciously mirroring hers as your eyes scanned her quickly, just to make sure she was really okay, before settling again on her face. You nodded, taking a small, almost unnoticeable step forward. Your heart slowed a little, soothed by the simple fact of seeing her safe.
“You didn’t respond. I was worried about you, my mom said— God, I just…” You trailed off, cheeks warming, your heart picking up pace again. “I can’t lose you.” The words left your mouth in a rushed murmur, and embarrassment filled every part of your entire being, but they were nothing if not true. You had never wanted to lose her. But now that you knew about the kind of fights she faced as part of her job, and now that there was something real between you two, no matter the decision not to act on it, the thought of losing her had become unbearable.
Wanda looked at you for a long moment. There was something in her eyes, not just tiredness, not just surprise. It was something warmer. Softer. Like the way someone might look at their home after being lost for too long. She stepped forward, closing the small space between you. Her hand reached up slowly, brushing your cheek with the back of her fingers, a light, tentative touch, as if she still wasn’t sure this was allowed.
“I told myself I wouldn’t do this,” she whispered. “That I couldn’t.” Your breath caught in your throat at her words, your mind catching the meaning behind those words, but you didn’t move, too afraid you were reading it all wrong. “But then you show up… and it all just—” She broke off for a second, searching your face. Her voice came out quiet but certain. “You manage to do something I thought was impossible. You make me feel alive again.”
And with that, she leaned in, pressing her forehead to yours. The moment felt thick with everything unsaid, and then it tumbled down, collapsing into something inevitable as her lips found yours, soft and certain and full of everything you’d both been holding back for far too long.
For a moment, you thought you had actually forgotten how her lips tasted, despite spending weeks thinking about them. But then you realized it didn’t matter.
It didn’t matter if you had forgotten, because now they were on yours again. And they were moving, brushing against your own, and you were responding, softly and eagerly all at once, if that was even possible. Your heart was racing, almost frighteningly fast, and your arms wrapped around her waist, your hands resting flat against her back, gently pulling her closer. When she moved in, pressing against you, a soft sound escaped your lips, something between a moan and a whimper.
Whatever it was, you didn’t have time to think about it, because a heartbeat later, you heard her chuckle. You hadn’t known how hot and adorable her laugh could sound, muffled against your lips, but God — you wanted to hear it again. Over and over. Forever, if she’d let you.
You were waiting for her tongue to brush against your lips, for her to deepen the kiss, but the moment you longed for never came. Confused, you opened your eyes just as you felt her pull back, away from your lips. You stared at her for a second, brows furrowing in both confusion and disappointment, but then your gaze met hers. Her eyes had darkened, and if that alone wasn’t enough to steal the air from your lungs, the way her hand wrapped around your arm and gently tugged you inside her house definitely was.
You followed her wordlessly, your free hand reaching back to shut the door just in time for her touch to shift, from your arm to your back, pulling you flush against her body. A small gasp escaped your lips at the contact. Your skin felt like it was burning; your eyes locked onto hers. Your hands trembled as you tentatively settled them on her hips, your tongue darting out to wet your parted lips as you tried, and failed, to steady your breathing.
Green eyes looked straight into yours, not just watching you, but studying you. Or maybe devouring you. Probably both. And as that thought hit you, your knees nearly gave out beneath you.
Your eyes were locked on each other's for what felt like an eternity, both your breaths a little ragged, the tension in the air palpable; the want, the desire filling the room, making it almost impossible to ignore.
Your hands trembled on her hips, your fingers clenching and unclenching the fabric of her shirt, as if trying to anchor yourself to something, trying to figure out what to do, how to behave.
"Are you nervous, detka?" You heard her say, her voice lower and huskier than usual, and your eyes fluttered closed for a moment as you tried once again to gather your thoughts. You felt her hands move on your back, her fingertips gently tracing random patterns over your shirt, and you let out a soft sigh, feeling your mind clear a little under her touch.
As much as you had longed to find yourself in this very moment, in this very situation; as much as you had almost prayed for it to happen and had nowhere else you would rather be, you could feel your stomach flipping at every breath of hers against your skin, at every beat of your heart, at every breath you released.
You nodded your head slightly in response, the gesture so soft, so quick that she might have missed it had she not been watching you so closely. You allowed your eyes to open once more, your heart picking up its pace as your gaze met hers again, your breath catching in your throat for a moment as you struggled to find the words. You forced your hands to stay on her hips, even as your hesitation and nervousness screamed at you to take a step back, to give yourself space to breathe, to think, to rationalize.
But your heart wanted none of those things, knowing, or perhaps fearing, that if you stepped back, everything between you would disappear completely, and you weren’t sure you could survive that.
Wanda must have seen the conflict raging inside you because her hands moved from your hips to cup your face, her thumbs brushing softly over your cheeks.
“Detka…” she whispered, her voice so gentle it made your chest tighten. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. I need you to know that.” Her eyes searched yours, deep and unwavering. “I just...” She paused, breathing out softly, almost as if weighing every word. “After everything that happened these days, I realized that life is too fragile to keep pushing away the things I want the most. And you...” Her thumbs brushed your skin again, slower this time, “You are what I want. What I need.” She smiled, small and tender, and your heart skipped yet another beat at the sight.
Then your heart began to beat faster in your chest as her words sank in, the meaning behind them striking you like a wave. Your cheeks flushed as your eyes met hers, and your hands gently moved to cover her own. The warmth of her touch on your face made your skin tingle; your lips still slightly parted, your breath uneven as you nodded slowly.
“I want you too. I’ve wanted you for almost as long as I’ve known you,” you mumbled, the words feeling weird on your tongue, despite being aware she already knew everything you had ever felt for her. It still felt surreal to finally say it aloud.
She smiled at your confession, her hand drifting down your cheek, her fingertips brushing your jawline in a way that made your heart threaten to leap from your chest. Her other hand slipped around your waist once more, pulling you even closer, until there wasn’t a single inch between your bodies. Her fingers grazed your neck, and your skin broke out with goosebumps as you tilted your head, silently asking for more of her touch.
When her lips finally met the heated skin of your neck, it was as if all the air had disappeared from your lungs. Your fingers tightened around her shirt, unsure of what else to hold onto. But just as quickly as it started, her lips lifted. A disappointed sound escaped you before you could stop it, and her giggles were like a melody, light and teasing in your ears.
Still smiling, she took your hand in hers and gave it a small tug, silently guiding you toward the stairs. Your hand was tight in hers as you climbed the stairs, your steps slow and quiet, though your mind was anything but. Every movement, every creak of the wood beneath your feet, seemed so much louder. She didn’t speak, and neither did you; her fingers wrapped around yours spoke louder than words, steady and warm, anchoring you to her, to the moment.
When you reached the top of the stairs, she turned slightly, her eyes locking with yours again, and that was all it took for your breath to catch. Her gaze had changed: darker, bolder, but still impossibly tender. She guided you gently into her room, the door closing behind you with a soft click that made your heart stutter.
Wanda stepped closer, her hands now at your waist again, and you felt her lean in, her lips brushing yours, not kissing, not yet, just hovering, teasing, testing your limits, testing your nervousness.
“Tell me to stop,” she whispered, her voice so low and intimate it felt like a secret meant only for you.
But you didn’t say a word.
Instead, your fingers tangled in her shirt again, and you leaned forward, erasing the space between you. This time, the kiss was different: deeper, more urgent, and more certain. There was no hesitation now, only need and the slow burn of everything that had been held back for far too long.
Her hands slid under the hem of your shirt, palms flat against your warm skin, and you gasped into her mouth, not from surprise, you had wanted this, but from the way her touch felt: like relief, like something that had been missing finally clicking into place.
Clothes were still on; movements were slow and deliberate, but every second was building, making you almost shiver with the anticipation of what was to come. You felt yourself melting into her, each kiss a silent confession, each touch a promise.
Her tongue traced your bottom lip, and you smiled against her mouth, the gesture reminding you of your first kiss. This time, though, there was no hesitation; you parted your lips for her instantly, welcoming her in. The moment her tongue slid into your mouth, a soft whimper escaped from deep within you, and you felt her fingers tighten just slightly on your skin, as though the sound had sent a spark through her.
Her body pressed even closer, every inch of her meeting with your body, and only then did you realize she was guiding you. Gently but deliberately pushing, her steps urging yours backward. The thought barely had time to settle before your legs obeyed, slow at first, but the eagerness almost showing immediately. And then your breath caught again, sharper this time, as the back of your thighs met the edge of the bed, the soft sheets cool against your skin, contrasting the heat burning in your body.
You felt Wanda’s lips leave yours just as your gasp filled the air, your eyes fluttering open, instinctively checking on her, half-expecting to find doubt in her expression, a flicker of hesitation, the realization that maybe she couldn’t go through with this. But when your gaze met hers, every worry melted away.
The look in her eyes was burning, pure need, raw desire, and it hit you like a wave, sending heat through your chest, down your stomach, and pooling even lower. You bit down on your lip, your chest rising and falling with every ragged breath, trying and failing to steady yourself as your hands found their way back to her shirt, your fingers clutching at the soft fabric to anchor yourself to her. Then you saw it, that small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, and you barely had time to react before her hand pressed firmly against your chest.
The breath left your lungs in a quiet gasp as she pushed, more confidently this time, her other hand moving to your back, gentle and steady. It wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t unsure either. There was intention in the movement, just like there was in her other hand slipping behind you, a gentle promise that yes, she was pushing you back onto the bed, but she would be right there to catch you, to guide you down with her.
The bedsheets were cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat pulsing through your body, every nerve alight, every sense consumed. Your eyes stayed locked with hers as she followed you down, her body hovering just above yours until her thighs settled on either side of your hips. Your breath hitched at the contact, the position making your heart race wildly in your chest. The look in her eyes was almost too much to bear, so intense, so hungry, yet you couldn't look away.
Your lips parted, maybe to speak, but no words came. Only the sound of your shared breaths filled the room, ragged and uneven.
Then she leaned in, her lips capturing yours again, firmer this time, more certain. Her body pressed against yours, and you moaned softly into her mouth, the weight of her grounding you even as it sent your thoughts into a million pieces. Her tongue slid against yours, teasing and tasting, and all you could do was give in to her completely.
Your fingers clawed at the sheets beneath you, desperate to hold onto something real, something solid, until her hands found yours, slowly lacing her fingers through yours, guiding them to her waist. The moment your hands made contact with her body, you whimpered, the intimacy of the gesture sending a jolt of heat low through your body. Your thighs pressed together instinctively, hips rising toward her in a silent plea for more.
She answered that plea almost immediately, lips growing more hungry, hands leaving yours only when you gripped her shirt tight, sliding down your sides until her fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt. Her nails dragged lightly across your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
A low groan rumbled from her lips as she pulled away from the kiss, her gaze meeting yours, dark, intense, filled with desire. Her mouth curved into a smile that made your stomach flip, and then her hips rolled slowly against yours, coaxing another whimper from deep within you. Her hands gripped your waist, guiding you gently back into the mattress as if anchoring you to the moment.
Your eyes fluttered shut, then opened again, drawn to every small motion, every breath, and every sensation she sent through your body.
Her hands slowly wandered upward beneath your shirt, fingertips dragging along your skin with such slowness that it sent shivers through you. Her eyes remained locked on yours, and your breathing grew more ragged with each second that passed. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, your mind a confusing mix of scattered thoughts and complete surrender under her touch.
When her fingers traced the underside of your bra, a sudden, involuntary moan slipped past your lips, your back arching instinctively, wanting more of her touch. The movement drew a smile from her, almost a smirk, as her gaze studied your every reaction, her hands sliding just past your bra, eliciting a soft, frustrated whimper from you.
“Impatient, aren’t we?” She teased, her voice low and laced with amusement, her lips curling into that irresistible yet infuriating smile, the one you had only now learned to both adore and resent, now that you fully understood what came with it. You wanted to answer, to match her teasing with something clever or defiant, but all you managed was a needy little sound that betrayed how deeply you were already melting for her.
A low chuckle left her lips, eyes still locked on yours as her hands slid higher, pushing your shirt up along the way. You arched your back again, this time to help her, surrendering more of yourself to her touch.
The fabric slipped over your head and was discarded somewhere between the bed and the floor. The moment your skin was exposed, you suddenly felt the weight of vulnerability sink in. But as your gaze searched hers, needing something, reassurance, comfort, anything, you found only adoration in her expression. Her eyes drank you in, darkened now with a hunger so palpable it made you shiver. Your breath hitched as her fingers explored your newly revealed skin, grazing lightly, sending waves of heat and anticipation through you.
Your breath was ragged, your chest rising and falling quickly with every inhale, your eyes locked onto hers as her hand moved slowly across your bare skin, sending a trail of tingles spreading through your body.
Tentatively, your fingers slipped beneath her shirt, your heart racing as you mirrored her movements, lifting the fabric with trembling hands. Vulnerability filled your gaze, yet your need to feel her overpowered your hesitation.
Her hands paused on your skin the moment you touched her, her eyes softening, studying you with a tenderness that made your heart ache. Still, her heavy breathing betrayed just how much she, too, was falling apart.
As you discarded her shirt, your breath caught in your throat. She wasn’t wearing a bra. And the sight of her bare skin made your cheeks warm up immediately. Your gaze lingered helplessly, your lips parting, your hands pausing on her waist as if afraid to move. You forced yourself to meet her eyes again, and the expression you found there made your stomach clench; dark amusement, yes, but something gentler too, as if she knew exactly how undone you were becoming.
“Didn’t quite think about the fact that I was already home, did you?” She murmured, her voice soft but filled with amusement, watching the realization flash across your face.
You swallowed hard, your chest rising in shallow breaths, and managed the tiniest shake of your head. Her smirk deepened, but then softened into something that made your knees weak. She took your hand, slow and deliberate, guiding it up, and the moment your palm cupped her breast, everything else fell away. She was warm and impossibly soft beneath your touch, and the sensation made your whole body tense and tremble with a need you could no longer hide. Your thumb brushed over her skin without thinking, and her breath hitched in response. Your eyes snapped back into hers at the sound, and you mimicked the movement once more, your fingers grazing her soft skin.
Her gaze deepened, her pupils dilating in a way that made you feel even smaller beneath her. She leaned in closer, her body almost flush against yours, a smile played on her lips as you didn't move your hand from her body, your fingers still cupping the soft curve of her breast.
Her hands trailed along your sides, the backs of her knuckles grazing your skin, and your heart seemed to skip a beat. Her lips curved into a knowing smile as she watched you, her body impossibly close.
“Arch your back for me.” She murmured, her voice husky, sending a shiver down your spine. Her eyes locked on yours. You nodded, a small breath escaping your lips as your hand slid away from her breast, your fingers curling into the soft warmth of her back. You arched your back instinctively, and her chest pressed against yours, the sensation making your breath falter and your heart pound.
Your eyes fluttered closed as her hands explored your back, her fingers tracing the fabric of your bra until they gently nudged the clasp. The fabric loosened, and you gasped softly as she pulled away slightly. You opened your eyes, meeting hers as she looked at you with an intensity that made your breath quicken. Her hands moved to your shoulders, her fingers pushing down the straps with slow, gentle precision.
You swallowed hard, your cheeks flushed with heat, your body trembling as the bra was discarded. For a moment, you closed your eyes again, trying to steady your nerves, the vulnerability in you undeniable, yet you felt a sense of safety mixed with anticipation.
Her touch returned to your skin, not where you had expected, but along your sides, her chest pressing flush against yours, coaxing a soft whimper from you. Her body was moving with a fluid, purposeful rhythm, and your legs instinctively parted to let her fit against you.
Her hand found your cheek, her fingers tender as she cupped your face, eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your stomach flutter. “Are you still okay?” She asked, the concern in her voice softening the sharpness of the moment. Her smile, both sweet and protective, made your heart race faster, your breath quickening.
You nodded, struggling to keep your eyes open to maintain the connection, and you felt your chest tighten. “I am, yes.” You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You tightened your thighs around her hips, not wanting to let her go, needing both her body and her reassurance.
“I want this.” You admitted, the words trembling on your lips. “I’ve wanted this for so long, and... I’m afraid of messing it up, of being... me.” You confessed, your voice catching in your throat. Vulnerability filled you, mixing with the nervousness and the weight of the moment.
You felt a soft hum rumble in her throat, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as her lips captured yours again, and you could feel your doubts slowly melting away with every tender brush of her mouth against yours. Your hands moved along her back, caressing the soft warmth of her skin under your fingertips, until they reached her hips. The tips of your fingers brushed just under the waistband of her pants, grazing the fabric of her underwear, making her gasp softly against your lips, the sound sending a shiver through you as she smiled into the kiss.
Her hand slid from your side, trailing down until it reached your thigh, gently lifting it up, guiding your leg around her hip. You followed her lead, instinctively arching your hips into hers, your body pressed closer, your breath faltering as you felt the heat between you both intensify.
Your tongue slid into her mouth, nudging her lips apart, and you felt yourself lost in the rhythm of the kiss. Her lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate, and your hands roamed over her body, exploring every inch, caressing, touching, savoring.
When her lips finally left yours, they started to trail a path along your jawline, kissing and nibbling softly at your skin. Every touch sent electric jolts through your body, making you arch into her, your breath hitching as her lips moved lower, grazing along your neck. You tilted your head back, letting it fall against the pillow beneath you, surrendering to the sensations. You gasped when you felt her lips close around the tender skin of your neck, your fingers digging into her hips as another soft whimper escaped your lips, your chest rising and falling with each labored breath.
Your heart raced, uncontrollable in its fast rhythm, as her mouth moved lower, the hot wetness of her kisses leaving a trail of fire on your skin. Your hands abandoned their grip on her body as she began to shift on top of you, slowly moving down your torso. The sheets twisted in your grasp as you pulled at them, your head thrown back in a silent plea as she kissed and nipped her way down to your chest. When you felt her breath ghost over your skin, you gasped, eyes fluttering shut as heat filled you, your body burning up with anticipation.
"Eyes on me, Zayka.” She murmured, the vibrations of her voice running against your skin before you even processed the words. You met her gaze, your eyes locking into hers, and you felt her smile against your skin. Your lips parted, each breath coming faster, as you felt her soft kisses trail across your breast, then shift to the other. You struggled to keep still beneath her touch, but your heavy breathing betrayed you. Every time you gasped for air, your chest rose, pressing more of your skin into her mouth; her pleasure was obvious as she hummed in approval against your body.
When her lips closed around your nipple, a gasp tore from your throat, and no amount of willpower could stop your body from arching into her touch. One of your hands released its grip on the sheets, burying itself in her hair, your fingers gently clutching at her locks as soft moans fell from your lips, one after the other; each one a desperate plea as her mouth worked its magic on your sensitive skin.
One of her hands slid slowly along your side, her thumb grazing your skin while her fingers left a trail of fire in their wake. Her lips remained wrapped around your breast, gently tugging, while her other hand cupped your free one, sending shivers down your spine. Your thighs instinctively tightened around her hips, drawing a soft groan from her that vibrated right into your skin, and your fingers tugged gently at her hair in response.
Her eyes met yours again, and for a moment, your heart stilled before resuming its pace, your pants erratic and breathless, as a small smile made its way across her lips. Her hand resumed its path down your body, fingers tracing the waistband of your pants before slipping beneath them, just as the other hand left your chest to join.
As she began to ease your pants down, your whole body trembled in anticipation. You bit back a soft, involuntary whine when her lips left your breast, only to gasp as she kissed her way down your torso, leaving warm, wet marks against the sensitive skin over your ribs, trailing lower toward your stomach. Her body slid further down yours as she peeled your pants further down your legs, and you let your grip relax around her hips, letting them ease back against the bed, giving her space to move.
Kneeling between your legs, she slipped her hands free of the fabric and gripped the waistband firmly, tugging it off your legs with slow, deliberate ease. Cool air met your exposed skin, eliciting a sharp inhale from your lips, your eyes never leaving her.
Her palms roamed over your thighs, soft and gentle, and her eyes drank in your now nearly bare form. The hunger in her gaze made you feel bare in more ways than one. You reached out, needing to feel her, and she caught your hand gently, holding it without breaking eye contact. She didn’t move, still kneeling between your legs, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as her gaze traced the contours of your body like she was committing every inch of you to memory.
When her hand slipped from yours, it moved to the waistband of her own sweatpants, and you watched with breathless anticipation as she slowly tugged them down, revealing the soft curves of her hips and the smooth skin of her legs. A soft, aching sound escaped you, involuntary and full of want.
Before you could say anything, ask, beg, or breathe, she was on top of you again, her bare skin against yours, warm and electric. Your legs tangled instinctively, your smile blooming the second your body was met with her closeness. Her warmth met yours, skin melting into skin, and your legs shifted slightly, brushing against hers, coaxing a pleased hum from her throat.
Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, then opened again, darker, heavier, and full of desire. And then your lips were on hers, desperate and tender all at once. Your fingers threaded back into her hair, tugging her closer, your legs moving against hers with growing need.
Then came the sudden, unexpected press of her thigh between yours, and a loud moan escaped you before you had time to stop it, your body momentarily frozen in response. Your teeth grazed her bottom lip, a reaction you hadn’t intended but didn’t regret, not as her soft hiss brushed against your mouth.
She stilled, just long enough to meet your eyes again, reading you, her lips curling into a smirk before she rolled her hips forward slightly, intensifying the pressure between your legs. You gasped.
“Wanda…” Her name escaped you in a soft, broken whisper; your lips parted against hers as your breaths mingled. She leaned in even closer, her nose brushing yours, her forehead nearly resting against yours, before placing a slow, delicate kiss on your lips.
You had no time to kiss her back before her lips trailed along your jawline again, drawing a soft groan from you that made her smile against your skin. Then she began descending along your body, her mouth leaving behind a trail of wet, hot kisses and teasing nibbles. Your back arched under her touch, one hand moving to your own hair, fingers threading through your locks as you threw your head back into the pillow, a cry escaping your lips when her mouth wrapped once again around your nipple.
Your free hand tangled in her hair, both tugging and guiding her, torn between wanting to feel more of her lips on your chest and desperately needing her attention lower.
A low chuckle vibrated against your skin as she caught on to your indecision. Her hands glided along your sides, slow and deliberate, before her fingers reached the waistband of your panties. Her mouth left your nipple with a soft, wet sound, and her eyes found yours, her gaze filled with adoration and desire.
“Do you want me to stop?” Her voice was gentle but edged with something firmer. Your eyes widened slightly at the question, and you shook your head immediately. The idea of her stopping now made your entire body tense in protest, and your reaction made her smile.
She slid her fingers beneath the thin fabric and slowly began tugging it down. You lifted your hips, helping her, and she discarded the garment without once tearing her gaze away from you. Yet her eyes didn’t immediately drop to your now-bare body. Instead, she stayed between your parted thighs, her own resting against your core with firm pressure. Her lips still hovered near your chest, her breath hot against your skin. “Words, detka. Tell me what you want.”
A groan slipped from your lips at her words, at the way her voice hit your ears, tender but unmistakably commanding. Her body had gone still, denying you even the smallest movement as her eyes locked with yours. You tried to gather your breath, tried to piece together enough words, possibly coherent ones, to give her what she was asking for.
“Just… just you.” You breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. Her smile widened at your answer. One hand moved down to your thigh, the touch feather-light and torturously slow. She tilted her head, studying you, clearly waiting for more. “I need you to touch me, Wanda.” This time your voice came out steadier, firmer. Your eyes remained on hers, your gaze wanting to be firm, challenging, as if daring her to say it wasn't enough.
But it wasn’t.
Her fingers continued to drift lazily across your skin, not giving you what you craved. Your legs shifted beneath her as if trying to guide her hand, your body silently pleading for more. But she only chuckled again, her grip tightening on your thighs to hold you still.
She slid up along your body, her gaze never breaking from yours. Her hand moved from your thigh to your hip, pinning you to the mattress, while her other hand danced lower, fingers ghosting over the soft skin where your hip met your leg.
Your breath hitched. Every one of your ragged pants echoed in the room as her fingers finally brushed your core, her touch barely there, just enough to make you squirm and whimper.
“What do we say, milaya, when we want something?” Her lips hovered over yours now, her voice a whisper against your skin.
You bent your knee, your foot flat against the bed as her fingers continued their slow, torturous exploration. Your eyes widened at her question, a whimper catching in your throat as the meaning behind her words set into your brain. She leaned in closer, her smirk brushing your lips.
“Say it.”
“Please. Please, Wan—” You never got to finish.
The moment her fingers pressed more firmly against you, every coherent thought suddenly disappeared from your mind. Her fingertips teased your folds, gentle and maddening, until they found your clit, and her eyes, still locked onto yours, made it impossible to hide anything.
When she began circling the sensitive bundle of nerves, your body melted under her touch. Your head sank deeper into the pillow, your thighs parting further in silent surrender, offering her anything and everything she wanted.
And when her soft circles became more pressured strokes, your body tensed, then trembled. Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as waves of pleasure rolled through you; your every breath became a gasp with her name on it.
Moan after moan slipped from your parted lips, your eyes fluttering as you tried to keep them open, drawn to her hypnotic gaze. Those emerald eyes made you want to never break eye contact, even as her fingers kept building wave after wave of pleasure deep within you.
Her lips returned to your jawline, grazing your skin with soft nibbles, her teeth gentle yet teasing, just enough to make you shiver and whimper beneath her. Your hands clutched at the sheets again, which once felt cool against your skin but now felt as warm and hot as your own body.
Her gaze locked onto yours, filled with so much desire that it took your breath away, and your lips parted, desperate to say something, anything, to beg for more. Her fingers trailed lower, slowly circling your entrance, and your body jolted at the contact.
“You’re so wet, detka. Are you ready?” Her voice was a low purr in your ear, and it made its way through your entire body. Your legs instinctively parted further, your hands letting go of the sheets to grasp her back, fingers pressing into her skin like she was your own personal anchor in that moment. You nodded, eyes still locked to hers. A smirk curved her lips as her fingers teased you, circling torturously slowly. She wasn’t letting go until she heard it.
“Y-yeah. Yes, I am, please…” You’d dreamed of this, fantasized about this moment countless times, but never truly believed it would happen. And now, here you were, begging Wanda to take you, and she was smiling down at you as you pleaded with her.
Then her lips were on yours again, slow, tender. She kissed you like you were something precious, something she didn’t want to break, and it made your heart clench just as tightly as your body.
But then you felt it, her finger pressing inside you, and the kiss faltered. You gasped against her mouth, your head falling back into the pillow, unsure if you needed more air or just needed to scream. Your fingers curled against her back as she slowly pushed in, and she groaned softly into your neck, her face nestled there for a moment while your body trembled.
Then her lips found your skin again, sucking tenderly at the curve of your neck, just as her finger began to move inside you. You were lost in the rhythm of her touch, the sensation of her lips against you, and the warmth of her skin. And from your lips came only a series of moans, whimpers, and pleas, a stream of incoherent words, but mostly her name.
Your fingers kept clutching at her back, your nails digging into her skin as she slowly pulled out, only to fill you again, this time with an added finger. You arched your back, as if trying to melt into her, to let your bodies become one, while she effortlessly found a steady rhythm.
Her lips kept kissing and sucking at your neck, and your cries of pleasure filled the room. Your head was thrown back, your eyes fluttering closed, your entire being focused only on the pleasure she was giving you. You couldn’t stop trembling beneath her. When her free hand found your hip, you thought she might still your movements, but instead, her fingers slid higher, caressing your skin, until her palm once again cupped your breast. Your breath caught in your throat, the sensation overwhelming.
“I’m never letting you go now.” Her words were a soft breath against your skin. You could feel her care and adoration in every movement, every breath, every contact. Her lips on your neck were tender and slow, a stark contrast to the steady precision of her fingers inside you, determined to make you lose control. She kept murmuring against your skin, words you couldn’t fully understand, but their tone felt of love, reassurance, and praise.
Your entire body felt like a tightly strung bow, ready to snap. The sounds falling from your lips were barely recognizable as your own, moans, cries, whispers, pleas. Her hand left your breast, cupping your chin instead, gently guiding your face down. You let her move you without resistance, understanding her silent request as her lips finally lifted from your neck. Your eyes met hers, those deep, emerald eyes staring into yours like she could see everything inside you, and you felt like you were already drowning in her.
Her fingers moved with a pace and rhythm that stole your breath. Your lips parted, panting, and then her thumb stroked your clit, and you knew you were right at the edge. Your legs tightened around her waist, needing her impossibly closer, your hips moving in rhythm with her thrusts. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, as if you were forgetting how to breathe.
She leaned in, her lips brushing yours without kissing you, and you were almost grateful, unsure if you could survive the overwhelming sensation if she had. Her eyes never left yours, making you feel even more naked than you already were, and then she whispered the words that broke whatever was left of your control.
“Let go, detka. Let go and come for me.” The breathless murmur against your lips hit you harder than anything else. You wanted to hold back, wanted to stay in that moment forever, but your body was already answering her. The tension broke. Your entire being surrendered, your voice breaking into a cry as your orgasm crashed through you, her name escaping your lips like the only sound you knew.
Wanda held you tightly, her hand sliding beneath your back, anchoring you to her as waves of pleasure rolled through you. Her fingers slowed but didn’t stop, guiding you gently down from your high. She didn’t speak at first, only touched you softly, soothing your skin until you felt yourself breathing again.
Then, with infinite care, she guided your body back to the mattress and gently pulled her fingers out of you, making your heart melt all over again. Her hands caressed your sides with feather-light touches, and when your eyes found hers, a small, sated smile curved your lips. Your hands relaxed against her back, then pushed her down, needing her weight, her warmth, her closeness. You nestled into the crook of her neck and hummed softly against her skin.
“Just let me remember who I am for a second.” You murmured, your voice breathless and thick with bliss. “And then it’s my turn.” Your lips grazed the soft skin of her neck, and the low chuckle she let out turned into a groan, deep and raw. Her hands on your waist tightened, her nails once more grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.
“I believe you mean it’s my turn, milaya. Or is that your way of asking for another orgasm already?” She teased, her voice low, sultry, her breath brushing against your ear.
You pulled back just enough to let your teeth graze her neck, soothing the mark with your tongue. Then your eyes met hers again, a playful smirk curving your lips as your fingers slid down her back and tugged at the waistband of her panties.
“Depends on the point of view. Your turn to feel good, my turn to taste you.”
You were spiraling.
Your mind was driving you mad, your worries, your thoughts, your paranoia.
It had been nearly a month since you'd finally experienced everything you'd ever wanted with Wanda, since you'd given in to desires and fantasies. Almost a month since the two of you had crossed the line that neither of you, well, mostly her, had dared to cross.
Or rather, the line neither of you thought you could cross without consequences. Consequences that still hadn’t come. And that, more than anything, was what was driving you insane.
You and Wanda hadn’t stopped there, it had become immediately clear that it couldn’t be just a one-time thing. Not when the desire was so deeply mingled with something more: affection, intimacy, maybe even the beginning of forever. So you kept finding ways to see each other, sneaking moments together without raising suspicion, doing everything you could to stay under the radar.
But that couldn’t last forever. Not with Wanda being your mother’s closest friend and teammate. Not with you being the daughter of one of the most capable spies alive.
Wanda was worried too. You’d had multiple conversations about whether, or when, you should come clean to your mother.
Any other couple would have waited a few months, at least until things felt more… established.
But you weren’t any other couple.
While you managed to savor every stolen moment with Wanda, probably because you’d craved her for so long, each day was becoming harder to live through.
You couldn’t even look your mother in the eyes anymore. Talking to her without stuttering felt impossible. And when the three of you were together with the rest of the team? You were a mess: biting your nails, bouncing your leg, barely able to sit still. You knew Wanda hated seeing you like that. You could see it in her eyes: how badly she wanted to soothe you, to wrap you in her arms and ease your anxiety. But she couldn’t. And that powerlessness was eating her alive too.
Eventually, after a week of your nerves being shot, it happened. You found yourselves having dinner with Natasha at home.
It had been her idea, naturally. Something about making sure Wanda wasn’t feeling too alone after the divorce. And you weren’t sure what made you angrier: the anxiety of sitting through dinner alone with them or the fact that your mother was still bringing up Wanda’s ex.
Of course, you and Wanda had talked about it—about the dinner, and what it might mean. Neither of you could come up with a reason to decline, not without raising even more suspicion. So you both had come to the conclusion that it was time.
Time to tell her.
The three of you sat at the dinner table; Wanda at the head, between you and your mother. Somehow, the conversation flowed like it always had, and for a while, it felt almost normal. Until your leg started bouncing again.
“Nat, Y/N and I need to talk to you.” Wanda said suddenly, and you froze. The color drained from your face. You hadn’t agreed on when to say it, only that you would. In your mind, it was going to be at dessert. Or maybe during coffee.
Not like this.
Your leg stilled. Your fork slipped from your hand and bounced against your plate, the noise cutting through the silence. Two sets of eyes turned to you. You wanted to melt into the floor.
Then your mother spoke. “Well. Took you two long enough. I thought you’d break after a week, Wanda.” Your head snapped toward her, wide-eyed. Wanda, too, looked stunned. Natasha’s voice was dry, filled with amusement, and a hint of reprimand. She met your gaze with a knowing smirk. “Wasn’t sure about you.” She added. “Either you wouldn’t care because you’d finally hit your rebellious phase… or you’d cave even sooner.”
You forgot how to breathe. Wanda looked just as shocked. Natasha looked smug, clearly enjoying your reactions.
“I’m not saying I’m thrilled about it.” She said casually, her tone sharpening just slightly as her gaze shifted to Wanda. “She’s still my daughter.” She resumed cutting her food as if nothing had happened. “But I’ve mostly made peace with it, while waiting for you two to stop pretending there was nothing going on.”
You could feel your stomach closing up completely, almost as if everything you had eaten in your life had decided to let its presence known.
“That said…” Natasha continued, setting her cutlery down and breathing out softly. “I’m not going to forbid anything.” She lifted her gaze to look at Wanda, her expression firm, pointed. “But let me be clear.” She said, raising a finger. “I don’t care about your powers. I don’t care who you are or who you’ve been.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “If you hurt my daughter… you’ll wish we’d left you in Sokovia.”
I really miss your writing! I’m here humbly begging for an update of Older series 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻
hii! I promise I have not just completely disappeared and that despite it being difficult, I'm not abandoning Older. I cannot say that I will update today or tomorrow, but I can say that I'm still writing it and I actually do have the plot in mind, so it's gonna be updated.
hey no rush love ur posts just wondering if u have an idea for when part 6 will be ready
hey, honestly I have no precise response to this, I am currently writing it but the whole process is slow for some reason, so I could just get an enormous amount of inspiration and motivation in the next few days or continue to write small bits every now and then. I'm so, so sorry it's taking this long, I just hope you'll be happy whenever I manage to post it and that it won't disappoint.
are you gonna update older take ur time just wondering
hi! yes, I will definitely update it, I'm not just leaving it like that, I promise. as I said before, I'm struggling a bit writing it, I have no idea why, but I'm getting it done bit by bit. I'm managing to write few paragraphs here and there, so I assure you that I will updatenit as soon as I finish it. I'm so, so sorry for how long it's taking me.
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