quickestsilvermaximoff - Tumblr blog

[quickestsilvermaximoff]

look at this godforsaken mess that you've made me (mcu wanda maximoff x f!reader)

a/n: ngl idk where this came from but y'know what I love Wanda let her have a fic! it is a sad fic with some smut in the middle BFNJEDFB

warnings: major character death (reader and Pietro's death), bi Wanda having her bi awakening, bathroom sex, vaginal fingering, kind of subby Wanda, one use of y/n FBHGBHHGFJHBF

The days following Sokovia are filled with grey. With endless nothingness. Her heart aches, her soul aches. The Wanda Maximoff of before is no longer whole. There is a void in her life, a gaping, agonizing wound that bleeds and aches and bleeds some more, refusing to heal even with time. She is given her space by her new team members, mourning the loss of her country, her brother and...

Losing Pietro was like losing a limb, feeling her connection with him just end like that was something she would never, ever recover from. It's hard not to think of him every day. If he were here, he'd know what to say, would pull her into his arms and reassure her that life would go on. How could it, now? Now that her brother is gone, as well as...

Losing you was like having someone stamp on her already defeated and broken heart.

Finding you had been a surprise, completely unexpected, out of the blue. Pietro had been giving you the eyes, smirking that smirk that made Wanda roll her eyes and that made girls weak in the knees. But you had smiled, given his shoulder a pat and promptly informed him that he wasn't quite your type.

The last part said, naturally, while looking at Wanda from across the bar.

Her brother had gotten the hint, backing off and giving Wanda a wry smile as she blushed, ducked her head down.

She'd never been hit on by a woman before. Had never been faced with considering...

She'd had thoughts, alone, in her bedroom or the shower. Thoughts of what it would be like to kiss a woman's lips, to touch her breasts, to taste her...

"I'm [Y/N]," you had introduced, smile wide and eyes bright, and oh, oh how Wanda's stomach had twisted into confused knots. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Yeah," Wanda had breathed, swallowing. "Whatever you're having is fine, uh..."

"Gotcha. Can I get your name, while I'm at it?"

"Wanda," she'd said, mouth dry and pulse thrumming. The twinkle in your eyes was downright hypnotic.

"Wanda," you repeated, and god, she should have been embarrassed for it, but warmth pooled between her legs at her name coming from your mouth. The way you tasted the word, eyes darting down to her lips. "Pretty, I like it."

It was a good thing that you did, because shortly, the pair of you had disappeared into an empty bathroom stall, hands desperate and mouths hot.

"I've never- not with a woman before," Wanda breathed against your lips, hands clinging onto your waist so tight she's certain she's left marks.

You just smiled, leaning your forehead against hers. "You sure you wanna do this?" you asked, cupping her cheeks, gently brushing her thumbs along her cheekbones.

Wanda nodded, breath hitched in her throat.

You pressed the softest of kisses to her lips, before trailing sweet kisses down her neck, one hand slipping up beneath her blouse, moving underneath her bra and delicately tweaking at the nipple there.

"Oh!" Wanda gasped, causing you to smile against her throat, pinching harder on her nipple. It's painfully good each time you twisted and lightly pulled at the nub, sending little shocks between Wanda's legs. "It feels so good I- fuck it's too-"

"Shh, baby," you smiled, nipping at her neck. "Be a good girl and just enjoy it, alright?" your other hand moved down, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding the zipper down.

Nothing could have prepared Wanda for the feeling of another woman's hand on her most intimate area. Your fingers are light, teasing, a lover's caress. The hint of your touch has Wanda panting, squirming against the wall of the stall.

"Please." she pleaded, and you looked at her, smiling, leaning down and softly pressing your lips to hers.

"You have no idea what you're asking for, do you?" you'd hummed, kissing your way down her throat, down her body. You slid her jeans and underwear down her legs, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to the apex between her legs.

Wanda's legs trembled, her hands scrambled against the wall for balance, a strangled gasp escaping her as you parted her legs and licked a long stripe from her soaked centre straight to her clit. One of your hands moves from her hips to between her thighs, gently stroking, gathering wetness, before abruptly they're being shoved inside her.

"Fuck!" Wanda squeaked, squeezing her eyes shut at the sudden sensation, her cunt throbbing around your fingers. You smiled against her clit, a wicked thing that sent another spark of heat deep in her cunt.

And that was that.

You were both inseparable after that night. Pietro often made fun of you both for it, but Wanda knew it wasn't malicious. She found herself staying at your place more often, found herself growing more and more comfortable with herself each day. You made her feel like herself, like she didn't need to hide a damn thing.

Your smile was intoxicating, your eyes mesmerising, your laugh made her ache with the desire to keep hearing that sound. You were funny, her sides still ached from the memory of laughing at you and Pietro trading barbs and taunts like you'd been brother and sister all along. You were sweet as honey, stern as can be when it came to political rallies and protests. You fucked her so good she'd forget her name, you held her close during the nights and made her feel truly safe.

All of that was gone, now. Buried deep within Sokovia, your beloved country.

You hadn't been found amongst the survivors, hadn't registered in the endless list of names. But Wanda knew, even without looking at the register. She'd felt the loss of you alongside Pietro.

Even now, curled up on her too big, too soft bed, a sitcom playing in the background, the loss eats away at her still. The memories make her hurt, rather than feel fondness. She both wishes to forget and desperately clings to what little shards of you she has left.

"Wanda?" comes the soft voice of Vision, for once having entered through the door. She peers up from her blanket pile. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"No, no, you're fine." she murmurs, sitting up and removing her blankets. Vision smiles warmly at her, and she returns it as best as she can.

One day, perhaps, the ache deep in her chest will abate. One day, she may be able to truly smile again, to laugh, to feel anything but this all consuming pain buried deep down to the marrow of her bone.

[quickestsilvermaximoff]

for you i would ruin myself (a million little times) pietro maximoff x f!reader

a/n: woo woo!! first fic on here hell yeah! tbh this is a more experimental fic. Pietro and reader are not so good people, but neither is Crystal tbh she's also a cheater in this. Unhealthy relationships wooo!! also yes fully listened to illicit affairs whilst writing this

warnings: smut, cheating/extra-marital affairs, slight choking, both reader and pietro are fully aware they're not in the right but tbh they get off on it, semi-public sex, degradation, rough sex, mouth covering, unprotected sex (wear protection folks, this ain't real life!)

word count: 1012

minors do not interact!!! 18+ only

He keeps a tight grip of her throat, relishing in the whimpers and groans being stifled by his grip as he thrusts deep inside her.

It had gotten out of hand, but now he... god, does he want this. What had started out as a way to get back at his cheating wife was quickly divulging into genuine, true feelings.

His pace stutters for not even a second. She won't notice, because he hisses through his teeth and pushes against her, pulling her tighter to him as he changes his pace to be more...

"Fuck-" she breathes, leaning her head back into his shoulder and whining at his brutal pace. It hurts, feeling the head of his cock slam against her cervix with every thrust. But god was it a good hurt. She wanted more and more of that delicious ache. "Pietro, please-"

"You like that?" he grins into her ear, smugness dripping from his tone. "Like getting fucked rough, like a good little whore, hm?"

Her answering whimper and the gush of warmth and throbbing around his cock tells him all he needs to know. He stifles a groan, leaning down and clamping his teeth around her shoulder.

"Yes," she whines, rutting against him. "I like being a good little whore. I like being your good little whore."

"Fuck-" he hisses, his hips stuttering against hers as he feels himself tipping towards- "I'm gonna- I need to pull-"

"Don't." she whispers, leaning her head back to meet his eyes. "Don't you dare. Cum inside me."

His eyes fly open, blue eyes filled with shock as he searches her face. "You're sure-? What if-?"

"I don't care." she tells him, reaching a hand back and tangling it in his hair. "And I don't think you do either. You want your cum to be filling me up, don't you? Dripping out of me..." her lips curl up into a smirk as his eyes darken.

"You're a tease," he growls into her ear, and she giggles, leaning up and pressing her lips to his. It's rare, kissing her during the act. It had always seemed too intimate for the nature of their relationship. He's married, she's the other woman, they don't love each other. They'd avoided kisses like the plague for the longest time.

Lately, they'd been slipping. Their touches had begun to linger, his eyes had begun to search for her the moment he entered a room, and the kissing...

It was gentle, loving, passionate. Things he'd used to be with his wife.

And so, he returns her kiss, moving his hand from her throat to cup her cheek. She sighs softly against his lips, meeting him eagerly.

They could stop at any moment, walk away. He could go back to being a faithful husband, devoted to his wife and daughter.

He didn't want to.

God, he didn't want to. Maybe once, right at the beginning, could he have stopped. Now?

Now he was attached. Had grown used to the soft eyes, the way her hair looked after a particularly rough fucking, the feeling of her laid against his chest with her fingers tracing absent circles. He had grown used to the roll of her eyes whenever he annoyed her, the sweet sound of her laughter that seemed to follow him through the halls and haunt his day until he had to see her.

It wasn't love, he'd insist. Love wasn't sneaking around behind everybody's back, love wasn't making sure nobody saw you together in your most intimate moments, love wasn't frantically rearranging your clothes to fuck her behind a pillar purely because she'd worn her hair in a way that showcased her neck.

It couldn't be love.

He had loved his wife, and that had turned sour. Perhaps he wasn't cut out to be a husband, perhaps Crystal wasn't cut out to be a wife.

It can't be love, he thinks as he moves his mouth against hers, as she tugs on his hair and as his thrusts speed up to chase his release.

It can't be love, he thinks as he spills inside of her, groaning into her mouth and thumping his head to rest against her shoulder, chest heaving.

It can't be love, he thinks as she starts to stroke his hair, pressing gentle pecks to his face. He opens his eyes, finding hers to be closed as she too catches her breath. Her fingers continue to card through his hair.

It can't be love, he thinks as he slips out of her, gently moving her to the bed they hadn't quite made it to. He collapses beside her, tugging her to his side and pressing his lips to her sweaty temple. He takes a deep breath, humming at the sweet smell of her hair intermingled with the sweat of exertion.

Love isn't ignoring each other's company in public. Love isn't fucking your friend's husband. Love isn't betraying your wife, even though it's in the way she had betrayed you. Love isn't fucking another woman and spilling inside of her, uncaring of any consequences it could have on your lives.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks, peering up at him with sleepy eyes and an exhausted grin.

It alarms him when he realises just how far he is willing to take this. How willing he is to keep her, always. He's an idiot. A mess.

He loves her, like the fool he is.

"Nothing at all." he lies, pressing a kiss to her temple. "How can I, with you looking like that, hm?"

She doesn't believe him, and he knows it. But she laughs, swatting his chest and nuzzling closer to his side. He feels the thrum of her pulse against his skin, the warmth of her, and he knows.

He's going to ruin himself. There is no scenario in which this does not end in catastrophe. He wouldn't be surprised if this ended with Medusa strangling him with that ridiculous hair of hers.

He cannot bring himself to care, not if it means he gets to keep her.