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wlwloverwrites · 2 years

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Everything’s in Check

Pairing: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Innocent!Reader x Dark!Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Dr. Romanoff has a check up appointment with the help of her nurse assistant, Wanda Maximoff.

Warnings: medical kink, latex gloves kink, fingering, humiliation kink, dark themes, smut (18+) crying, vaginal dilators, numbing with the use of injection

stop reading if it makes you uncomfortable! ALSO i’m not a doctor and refuse to do research, so if i say something medically incorrect… ignore it.

Main Masterlist

DO NOT REPOST ANY OF MY WORK. YOU DO NOT HAVE MY PERMISSION TO DO SO. DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK ON AN OTHER PLATFORM OR “GIVE ME CREDIT”

To be transparent, you feared coming in this morning. You never really had a good experience with doctors. You remember your first doctor, his hands were rough, eyes looked bored, and he barely talked to you. He was a big meanie. Your second doctor was almost the same, only his eyes wandered and asked question you knew had no relation to your visit.

This meant if you needed to go to the doctors, you would make sure to postpone that trip as much as possible. So that’s what you did, only you had a new doctor.

“Are you scared?”

The voice makes you jump. The thin medical gown did little to protect you from the cold or cover your backside. You tried leaving your underwear on, but Nurse Maximoff insisted you took them off to ‘make things easy for Dr. Romanoff’.

“A little,” you reply softly.

You try not to move because you know the medical examination table will squeak. Plus, you know the disposable paper beneath you will tear with a single flinch. You’re trying to save yourself from that embarrassment.

“You can always hold my hand if it gets too much, how does that sound?”

You eyes light up from the kind offer before you shyly nod. “Yes, please. I’ve never done this before and all my friends said it hurt them.”

“It can be scary, but Dr. Romanoff is very good at her job. She’ll do her best to keep you comfortable.” You smile at that and giggle when Nurse Maximoff send you a wink before closing the door.

It isn’t long until you hear muffled voices just outside the door. An unfamiliar woman walks in with Nurse Wanda not far behind. Her presence automatically makes you nervous, you don’t know if it’s her bold hair or the way she briefly smiled at you. On autopilot, the two women wash their hands with such grace. It’s almost like watching ballerinas dance, it’s art.

“How are you doing today, Y/N,” she asked before turning over to look at you. You can’t determine whether or not she is truly asking. Did she care?

Her eyes were pretty, delicate but fierce. Enough green to get lost in and think or the plant stems that carry the blooming flowers; however, they were firm enough to make you stutter.

“I-I am doing good, Dr. Romanoff,” you nod awkwardly as you fiddled with your thumbs.

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart.” She pauses looking down at her click board before continuing, “Please call me Natasha.”

Okay… maybe she does care.

“I take it that my best nurse, Wanda, walked you through everything?” She assumes as she grabs the abnormal latex gloves for a doctor. They aren��t their usual light blue, instead they are black.

Nervously, you answered that she had and said no when she asked you if you had any further questions. She motioned for you to change positions on the examination chair. Latex-covered hands tap your ankles as they are moved on their correct position on the stirrups.

“Just as a precaution we’ll need to strap you down, okay sweetheart?” She doesn’t really leave room for discussion when she nods to Wanda. But you think nothing of it, because Dr. Romanoff’s hands rub your calves gently.

Your breath hitches when Wanda tightens the buckle over your thighs. You’re shy when it’s blatantly obvious your parts are fully exposed. You avoid eye contact the second you see Dr. Romanoff’s eyes look between your legs. Your hands go to cover your face when you hear the two women whisper to each other.

“Oh no, honey. Are you shy?” Natasha coos. She motions for Wanda to comfort you. You almost want to burst into tears when your nurse rubs your arms. The friction is a bit awkward her her gloves on, but you think it’s sweet nonetheless.

“A little.” You whine whine softly and choke on your breath when you feel fingers rub between your legs.

Your teeth bite the inside of your cheek when you see her grab the rather large speculum. Your doctor is more then generous with the lube, something you’re thankful for. You’ve heard the horror stories. Wanda’s hand slips comfortably in yours when Natasha pushes the tip of tool inside you.

Hissing at the cold temperature of the metal incanting your most private area. You try your best to hold in your tears, you do, but it hurts. If it wasn’t for your doctor’s worried eyes looking back at you you’d think she was doing this on purpose.

You would truly believe that Dr. Romanoff was just another meanie.

The grip you have on your nurse’s hand is enough to make your fingers cramp. You can’t imagine how Nurse Maximoff’s hand must feel. Restraints wrapped around your thighs and calves only tighten with every flinch. You can already see the marks and imprint on your skin later.

“I’m hurting you too much,” Natasha sighs, defeated.

You want to scoff in her face, as if the tears rolling down your cheeks and small sniffles weren’t enough, but you cry in relief when she pulls the tool out. At that point you couldn’t think about doing anything else but thank her.

“I know a way it will feel better, okay?” Natasha hums. She hums a second time to get your approval. Butterflies fly in your tummy as you watch her snap the gloves off her hands. Your eyes on her hands and widened when you see she is staring at you, staring at her.

“Yes doctor.”

“And if that doesn’t work I have something else we can try,” she shrugs casually as she shuffled through her medical tools.

You nod as your blink away your dried tears. Anything but that. Glossy eyes glance up at the nurse in the room. Even with her mask on you can tell how beautiful she is. Subconsciously your walls clench around nothing when she sends you a flirty wink. Shy, you break eye contact and try to close your legs. You swear you hear a light chuckle.

“Nurse?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“Clean her up.”

Confused you watch your nurse walk around to the corner of the room. You hear the plastic before you see it. Nurse Maximoff settles down where Dr. Romanoff once was with a small pack of wipes.

You throw your head back connecting the dots. This has got to be the most humiliating thing ever. You want to protest and tell both your doctor and nurse that you’re more than capable to clean and wipe yourself away, but your hands are shaky and your heart is racing.

As soon as you feel the first wipe your eyes water once more. You’re ashamed and feel so useless when the nurse grabs the second wipe. She gentle and wipes away all the excess lube left behind from your doctor. You hide your tears and sigh in relief when the redhead sitting between your separated legs is finished. You count to five slowly in your head, blocking out the two intelligent women who seem to have no issue with your nakedness and discomfort.

The colorful box in your doctor’s hands sparks an interest. You barely have a chance to read the label before Dr. Romanoff tears the unopened box. With new clean gloves, she carefully placed these multi-colored, plastic inserts on her sterile tray. There’s five different rod-like devices, each bigger and thicker than the last with a rounded tip.

“I know they look scary, honey,” your doctor paused as she gathered the rest of her tools, “But we will take it slow.”

You nodded, but gave a verbal answer after Nurse Maximoff raised her eyebrows. Once again, the red head found her place between your thighs with the smallest ‘vaginal dilator’ in her hand.

She was quick. Wasted no time.

You gasped when she pushed the small tool passed your entrance. This one wasn’t so bad. Your nails digging into the poor chair could finally relax. Whispers are shared between the two scholars as your doctor carefully switched the tool for a bigger size. This one didn’t sting too much. There was a slight burn.

“Relax.”

The third one hurt. The stretch stun and had your fingernails dig into your palms. Muscles you never knew existed felt sore from the sudden and abnormal stretch. You want to protest when your doctor reaches for the fourth one.

“Too much?”

You nod with shiny eyes.

A silent conversation is shared through the medical professionals with their eyes. Wanda taps your hand before moving to grab something behind you. Your doctor tries to distract you by rubbing her hand on your inner thighs.

“Honey, we are going to try that last thing, m’kay?” she pauses and you swear you have a finger flicking thin glass. “You’ll feel a small pinch,” she squeezes the meaty part of your inner thigh before continuing, “but we will give it a couple seconds to kick in and you won’t feel a thing.”

An intimidating needle is passed onto your doctor which leaves you shaking like a leaf. She explains the small dose will leave you numb for the next thirty to sixty minutes and shouldn’t have any side effects. Your eyes overflowed with tears the second the needle pricks your skin. It’s only for a second and then the pain is gone. Sweet nothings are whispered into your ear as the doctor between your legs waits for drug to kick in. At first it feels funny and weird. Those words are the only ones that can describe it.

“How does that feel?”

You want to laugh at first, because you can’t feel anything, but your doctor is quick to get the message. She works between your legs as a very professional nurse distracts you. Nurse Wanda asks about your day when you see your doctor grab the cold, metal speculum. The same tool that made you flinch before was the least of your worries.

You don’t feel it, but you hear it. You hear how wet the space between your legs is. You can see the fascination in your doctor’s eyes when she replaces her tool with her fingers and you don’t even notice. You don’t notice she has three fingers inside you until she brings the soaked, gloved fingers to your nurse’s mouth. You watch, horrified and embarrassed when Wanda lets your taste sit before letting go of your hand and jotting down some notes. She studies you as if you were unconscious.

Your nurse is no better then your doctor. Humming when your slick hit her tastebuds. She even looks up at the ceiling so deep in a thought before she writes to the words ‘tastes sweet’. Settling her notes on a sterile table, your nurse, Wanda, stands behind Natasha staring hard between your legs.

“Doctor, what about this area here?”

Natasha eyebrows furrowed as her eyes followed her coworker’s pointer finger. She pointed to a small bud you never even knew existed, untouched. Numb between your legs, you jump at the feeling and overwhelming feeling of someone’s touch on the most sensitive part of your body.

“Oh no, looks like our anesthesia didn’t work here,” Natasha pouts with fake sadness. Brushing her latex covered thumb over the bud again making your eyes roll back and mouth fall open. She hums to herself as she continues, “But that doesn’t seem to be a problem, huh?”

A small chuckle that leaves Wanda’s mouth pulls your out of the pleasurable trance. Suddenly, you’re excessively aware of the position you’re in. The straps holding you down are tighter then before, fingernails are now digging into your palms, and the heat between your legs was growing profoundly. Panic start to set when you hear the wet noises. Your whole rocks with each thrust of your doctor’s fingers. The pads of her fingers hitting a spot deep inside you that makes your whole body cry.

Tears fall down your cheeks when you hear side comments like, “if I didn’t know any better I’d say she was a big whore” or “Look here, she can’t even control it.” The image of your doctor’s soaked fingers entering her mouth to “get a taste” for herself was something you knew would haunt you for the rest of your life. You’ll never forget the way she hums at your taste or the intense eye contact she shared with you while she suck her fingers clean. You can’t bare it. The way the two educated women completely disregard you, yet took notes off your body and its reactions. You want to bury yourself in a hole.

“Nurse.”

“Yes, doctor?”

“Bring over a mirror and grab a tissue for our sweet patient.”

If it weren’t for Natasha asking for the tissue you never would have known she cared for your tears. The mirror was something that threw you off. Scared, not knowing what was coming next your eyes follow Wanda as she grabs a circle mirror. The two women share a silent conversation which results in Wanda holding the mirror above Natasha’s head giving you the perfect view of your own body.

You can see Natasha’s fingers glistening with your slick and her spit. You can see the way you drip. You can almost see the way you throb.

You can see it. Her fingers inside, the four fingers stretching you. Your muscles straining to fit the sudden fullest, the fullest you couldn’t feel. You can see the way your muscles contract involuntarily. But you can’t feel it. Not until Wanda’s fingers rub your clit. Your whole body jerks as if Wanda had some type of power. You didn’t see them, but you hear the smirks on the women’s faces.

“There she is.”

Moans fall pass your lips uncontrollably. Wanda’s thumb doesn’t seem to rest as she circles your clit over and over again. Every time you closed your eyes are turn away from looking at the mirror Wanda landed a firm slap on your clit. Each time your thighs flinch and involuntarily vote to shut, but the straps tying them down only tighten. Your eyebrows scrunch in both confusion and pleasure. You’re confused by what you’re feeling. There’s heat in your belly as your hear beats faster than a racehorse.

“Come on, honey. Let go.”

Her directions are comforting, but your mind is foggy. The view of your doctor and her nurse towering over —what used to be— your untouched body. Her fingers inside you move faster, you can hear your body’s reaction and see Natasha’s concentration in her eyes. Weakly you shake your head no. Your skin on your chest feels hot. The medical gown you wore felt itchy on your skin. Your nipples pebbled through the thin material. With every move you whined at the feeling of the cotton dragging against your nipples. So sensitive.

“Let go, Y/N. I’m not asking.”

Natasha’s voice is enough to have you shaking in fear. She has all the power, she’s calling the shots.

“I don’t know how.”

Natasha sends Wanda a look that has the nurse smirking before nodding. You don’t know how her hand wasn’t tired from holding the mirror. It felt like you spread out open for the two of them for years. Natasha leans forward, blocking your own view of yourself. Bambi eyes meet Wanda’s because you don’t yearn for her hand to roughly meet your clit again. Her touch send tingles up your spine from the pain. Instead, you’re meet with something sweeter. Warm lips press a soft kiss on your clit. Eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel her tongue lick parts of you, you never even thought people wanted to taste.

Your hands have a mind of their own when your finger bury themselves in her red strands of hair. Pulling her mouth impossibly closer, whining when the pleasurable sensation would disappear if she lick too low. Your teeth clench when Natasha’s teeth lightly graze your clit. You want to let out a loud moan, but it’s swallowed by Wanda’s kiss.

Wanda, feeling a bit left out, took matters into your own hands and stole your first kiss. The kiss is messy. An inexperienced mouth paired with a brain clouded with first time sex wasn’t a smart choice. Teeth clash together, but Wanda doesn’t seem to mind. Her notebook and mirror were long forgotten as her hands slip beneath your medical gown and reach your breasts. Her lips find themselves wrapped around your tongue as she slowly pulls away there’s spit dribbling down his chin, it’s exotic. You have much time to process the wet dream of a woman right in front of you when Natasha works harder with her mouth and Wand’s fingers find your sensitive nipples. Rolling your nipples between her fingers while Natasha sucks, licks, bites, and kisses between your legs.

You feel your very first orgasm running you over like a truck. Your thighs shake as your body throbs in want. Natasha’s mouth doesn’t stop and Wanda’s fingers found their new home in your mouth. Latex-covered fingers trigger your gag reflex causing your eyes to blur with tears. You can’t see the way you soak your doctor’s face, but you get an idea when she pulls away and drags your hands away from her scalp and onto her face. Fingertips are met with a wet substance, then brought to your lips. Lips smeared with spit and a small hint of Wanda’s lipstick are now taking in a sweet taste.

“Such a sweet girl.”

Tuckered out, you don’t fulling understand the comment. You’re drained, literally, to a point you have no idea who spoke. You hear small shifts and feel hands on your knees. Wanda’s hands find the leather straps holding you down. You sigh, grateful for freedom. Only it never comes, the straps only tighten, you’re not sure how, but they do.

“Let’s try that again.”

Finally, the fic that’s long overdue. Don’t forget to reblog! If not comment :) also thanks for 4.3k followers!!

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wroteclassicaly · 2 years

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Warnings: Language, smut, NSFW goodness, vaginal fingering, finger sucking, & Steve comes in his pants.

A/N: Well, this wouldn’t leave me alone, the dash was horny for Steve too, and my mind spiraled. *Eddie Munson voice* @pastel-pillows & @dr-aculaaa — this is for you! ;-)

You couldn’t stop the way your legs began to shake, calves tense, thighs jiggling from the jostle you accompanied yourself with, toes of your sneakers dipped into the green carpeting and digging in, only to bounce seconds later. You swear you can hear your heartbeat rushing in your ears, bursting the drums, echoing your sinful sentiments, a choir of nasty little devils whispering encouragement into your ears, their sharp teeth sucking at your lobe. It all started with watching Steve rearrange his trunk this morning before you rode with him to work at the store. He’d pulled out his nail slayed weapon, twirling it like it weighed nothing and he did it for a living. You went doe eyed, becoming dizzy and dumb.

Robin had rolled her eyes, following shortly behind for her own ride. “So glad I’m not straight.” She was forever onto you.

And the duration towards Family Video wasn’t any better. With the ping pong weather of the Midwest, you’d all had your windows down and it kept blowing Steve’s unruly mane, resulting in crunching leather, twisting upon by his clenched fingers as they shifted to raise, his wrist tendons flexing beneath a rolled Henley, his digits pushing back the tendrils that had mounted his forehead. With a slow morning, it gave you three some time to unwrap new snacks to restock the front counter with. Only… that packing tape was always tough and you left the letter opener in the back (you could never find it, really), so Steve came to the rescue. He’d fetched his keys from the employee lockers, bringing them into the front with one announcement: the metal ring swinging along his defined pointer finger. With a freshly manicured nail bed and a calloused padding around the digit’s tip, you were all but salivating.

Praying made everything worse for your state, and you’d resigned to indulging in every waking fantasy as you watched Steve roll his sleeves up until they crested over his forearms and rested around his elbows, giving you VIP access to each and every tendon, vein, freckle, mole, and muscle that the limbs possessed, complete with his signature watch wrapped around his left wrist. Robin had backed away and busied herself further towards the front, not wanting to be smothered by your increasingly unstable pheromones. You thought that maybe asking Steve for help instead of watching him grit his pearly whites or lick his tongue out over that dark stubble beginning to work its way into his flesh, circling his mouth in the most luscious ways, all because the tape was being stubborn against his keys — wasn’t a smart choice. He had refused with a smile, leaning over the cardboard and giving you a direct eyeline down the collar of his shirt, curly chest hair peeking back at you. On your way around the counter after nearly collapsing, Robin had poked her finger into her mouth and mimicked a gag, rolling her eyes at your middle finger return.

And that leads you to your current continued predicament, the slutty saga trotting along. Steve makes a noise of eager mirth and that goofy grin of triumph washes over his features, his fingers tucking into the packaging and flipping the lids, curling.

Curling…

You choke on your own spit, a deep breath coming out choppy. You immediately warm with embarrassment and maneuver your way through the stale air towards the restrooms. You’re barely inside a stall before Steve comes in behind you, halfway in the doorway, hand tightened knuckle-white around the silver handle, little denim jeans strapped to his thick thigh that is raised slightly, his Nike sneaker toe pointed into the floor to hold his place. You watch his arm prop, his brows cinch in confusion.

“Honey? Everything alright?”

If you speak it’ll all vomit out in a pornographic moan, so you can merely shake your head. Steve immediately reacts and joins your proximity, nearly caging your airspace in, his cologne draping around you like a fucking winter coat. Your eyelids flutter closed, your body stepping back, then in. This is ridiculous. It’s not like you two haven’t fooled around before, on nights where the action was slow and the adrenaline ran high.

He always said you could talk to him, ask him for and about — anything. It’s a comical slow motion when his hand raises, veins defined and running alongside his creamy skin that will tan in the coming Spring, it never fails to. He seems to feed off of your look, patience his new virtue. You permit his thumbpad to stroke a shred of hair to tuck it behind your ear, causing your nipples to harden in your bra’s confines.

“Steve…” And his breath hitches, because even underneath the sickly fluorescent lighting he can see your dilated pupils.

“Oh.” His own voice has gone rasp, scattered. But there’s a battering jealousy that gnaws at his abdomen, fanning its green flames into his esophagus. He could choke on the bile that someone else might have caused your pent up responses.

It’s like he knows what you’re going to say before you do, but he encourages, stroking ever so softly along your cheekbone now. “What do you need?”

You mewl and sway into him, chests brushing, lips parched when they peel apart. You can practically taste his cinnamon breath spray on your tongue. “Need to touch myself.” You settle for a more hands off approach, not wanting to push, especially at work and with your shared best-friend thirty feet away.

Steve, however, he surprises you. He purses his plush lips into a plop, sclera glazed over with honey hot arousal. “Yeah? You think I can watch you do it? It’s been so long since you’ve let me see you between your legs, baby.”

It didn’t matter anymore if you were thinking about someone else, because you’re going to be thinking of him now — only, just. He wants to make sure.

You’re almost warning him, but when your jaw drops and your tongue is present, his thumb glides along your skin and presses inside and over the wet muscle. Steve has never seen you react so strongly, your left hand reaching out and fisting into his shirt, bunching it and yanking him into the stall with you, kicking it shut, his back falling upon the cool, doodle littered metal. He hisses, a fuck being spat into the air. You’re trembling into your ragged breathing, vest rippling with the waves of your heaving breasts. You look at him from beneath your lashes, fluttering, sucking with purpose on his thumb.

His cock swells instantly, straining uncomfortably against the zipper of his light blue Levi’s. It hits him then, what you have wanted. Or rather, who. He feels a possessive pull that’s stronger than gravity, polluting every bit of air that enters his lungs. His arm wraps around your lower back and his forearm jostles a chill down your spine.

You make room and claw your vest off, letting the cheap polyester hit the tile floor, helping yourself to his arm around you, bending to having his palm splay along your tailbone, caressing, moving upwards seconds later. Your hand untangles from the now wrinkled fabric of his shirt and moves to your jeans, pushing and twisting, getting them to a place where they drift down your hips and pool around your knees. Your panties are next, so sticky and hot between your thighs that it strings from you to glistening fabric, Steve’s mouth watering.

“Dammit, honey. How long have you been like this for?”

You’re panting, whimpering, his light kneading in your tense muscles, finding him eventually cupping your neck with a heavy and large palm, fingers tickling your jugular. Your pulse is thumping sporadically beneath his touch, he notes with fascination.

“All day.” You reveal. “Because of you and these.” You say full out, tongue lolling out and licking another one of his fingers into your mouth — salty and all Steve.

Those carmel colored brows, they rise into a question. You nod once more. “Please?”

Steve dips in, drops his wrist to nudge the meat of your thighs further apart, and he swipes a finger through the soaked seam of you, collecting what he can, rubbing along the rim of muscle that keeps your beautiful inside from him — pushing it when you begin to shake and plead. Your whispering praises and thank yous, ready to worship at the temple of Steve Harrington. He adds a third finger to your mouth and thrusts, wiggling them along the wetness, marveling at how it pools in the creases where your lips meet your cheeks.

“Like that?” He draws out a gruff groan, tossed about by the electric force and your perfect lips closing around his fingers, sucking him like it’s his dick and the world is about to end.

You give him that look, and that familiar adrenaline finds its way to the surface and screams, taking you and Steve within its clutches. He’s smirking at your mumbling around him, a pathetic but purely diabolical sight. He’s so hard it hurts to move, knees bumping yours, and your body pliant and fucking yourself on his hand, your lips spread apart and scattering your cream across his palm each time you push back down against him, arching to help nudge his fingers into a deeper crook. You grip his wrist bone and tap, tracing those veins, and you finalize by digging your nails into his forearm. He retaliates and holds on the back of your tongue, making you sputter and choke, spit dribbling out and squishing around his knuckles.

“Yeah, gag on it. Fuck, you’re about to cum already, do you feel it?”

And you do come, seconds later, licking and biting at Steve’s fingers, squeezing his arm and practically humping his hand until it subsides. Your head is spinning when you touch back to planet earth, Steve shaking and folding in on you, his sticky fingers falling from your pussy, the softest noise coming out of his throat and barreling past his lips.

“Holy shit…” you look right at his crotch in time to see the denim darken with his load.

He finds your neck and kisses, returning cute and shyly, his own hand leaving your mouth, pruned and sated.

“I can’t believe I just got off in my pants. Christ, honey. You’re fucking ridiculous today.”

Steve-speak. All dopey and cheesy, uncaring that he busted like a horny teenager. But you didn’t care either, so he didn’t feel the need to be ashamed.

Whilst he helps you readjust your clothing, a shrill voice sounds from the other side of the room.

“You better wash your hands,” Robin yells.

You’re sheepish, wincing, but Steve… he winks at you and slides his still—wet fingers into his mouth, making a nice show of cleaning them, looking proud once he finishes, responding with a vocal, “They’re clean, doofus.” And he leans in towards you, an afterthought, your noses brushing, as he whispers lowly, “Just gotta run home and change my pants now.”

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raleighcarreras · 2 years

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it's all so incredibly loud

Part 6: there's a flood coming to sweep us away

Pairing: wanda maximoff x black!fem!reader

Rating: M (sexual content, language)

Warnings: sex, not very descriptive but still evident, vaginal fingering (r receiving), pietro is the best wing man ever, he's going to make sure his sister gets laid or die trying

Wrd Cnt: 1.9k?

Parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Notes: one more chapter (unless i decide on an epilogue) to go! The song is teenage dream but specifically the glee version (stop looking at me like that) 18+ only im so serious

"I'ma get your heart racing in my skin-tight jeans. Be your teenage dream tonight."

You had gotten maybe an hour of sleep all night. First, the fiasco with the boys, and then with Wanda less than a foot away from you, relaxation was hard to come by.

You told her you needed her with you to calm down, and in all honesty, you thought you were telling the truth. But the opposite had occured. As soon as you heard her soft breathy snorts of air, you were riddled with energy.

Sleep didn't find you until the 10 O'clock hour in the morning. After Pietro came into the room with Alexis hanging off of his hip, chewing on his shirt. He told you he'd take the boys out to a 24 hour arcade he saw during his 6 am run. Promising to feed them, give them a stern Uncle Talk (TM), and thus giving you space to rest for as long as he could keep their attention.

You whispered a small, grateful 'Thank you' and Wanda grunted out something unintelligible. Otherwise, she had been dead to the world all night and well into the morning.

Wanda slept like she hadn't slept in months. And you did too, for an hour.

At 11: 06, you awoke to an arm tightening around your waist. Wanda also awoke to an arm tightening around your waist.

She tried to peel away from you, "Shit, Y/N. I'm sorry. Force of habit I guess."

You stopped her with a grip onto her wrist that presented itself more forceful than you intended, "No don't. Please."

Wanda replaced her arm, "Ok. I'm not going anywhere."

You had no business feeling this vulnerable. No business feeling like your ex-wife was the only thing anchoring you to the ground so you wouldn't float away into the stratosphere.

And yet...

That's exactly how you felt.

You felt like you needed to roll over and bury your face into Wanda's neck or else you would lose your mind. So, you did. And Wanda let you because she understood. She just got you.

You reveled in it.

If Wanda hadn't started speaking you would have gotten your second hour of sleep.

"Are you okay?"

And of all the things she could have asked, she chose something hard. You would have been better off with a calculus word problem.

You shrugged, "No. Yes. I don't know. I just feel, y'know?"

"Yes. I do. I just feel all the time."

"How do you deal with it?"

You could feel Wanda's eyelashes flutter on the side of your forehead, "Well, lately? By talking about it. Normally, figuring out why I feel like that helps a lot."

Could you tell Wanda why you felt the way you felt? Could you tell her how your stubbornness was leading to your children thinking they were a burden? Could you tell her that in some ass backwards turn of events it was you who dreaded when she had to leave, and prayed for her return?

Could you tell her that Pietro took the boys out to the arcade so they didn't get the wrong idea seeing the two of you in the same bed, and now it seemed he should have taken you too because you were getting the wrong idea seeing the two of you in the same bed?

"I feel-I feel like I should have gone to therapy too."

Wanda laughed at that, "Don't go to Dr. Raynor. She just looks at you until you realize what you just said was stupid."

But you don't laugh, "I feel like I missed you. I feel like I missed this... being with you. I feel like I shouldn't feel those things. But I also feel like it doesn't matter if I shouldn't because I already do."

Wanda shrugged you away from her side so she could look at you better. The two of you mirroring each other on your sides.

"Can I tell you something?"

You nodded with a look of concern, "You can tell me anything." And you've meant that for years. You've never stopped.

"When I went off the deep end and Strange helped me come back to myself, and I said I'd never use my powers again unless it was the last resort...that flipped something in me. I had just lost my family and then I couldn't use the tools I was gifted to protect them if it ever happened again..."

Tears crawled slowly out of the corners of Wanda's eyes but she didn't bother swiping them away and neither did you.

"...that ruined me. Last night was the first time I've slept throughout the night in a very long time."

You grabbed at Wanda's face, your thumbs sliding over her cheekbones and smearing tear tracks in their wake, "Wanda, why didn't you tell me?"

"Didn't want to seem weak. I didn't want you to worry about my problems. Yes, I realize how stupid that sounds now."

"We're a team, you know that, right?"

"I do, I just got a little lost somewhere in there."

"Good."

You assume that the fact that you can't tell who leans in first, probably insinuates that you both do at the same time.

But it ultimately doesn't matter when your lips touch for the first time in months, and as your hand trails down from her face to fist into her T-shirt, you realize just how lost you had been too.

You're still not too keen on telling her how her bottom lip between your own felt like coming home. And that her solid grip on your barely covered waist practically had you purring.

You sure as hell weren't going to tell her the last time you had been touched this way was by Sharon all those weeks ago and it didn't feel even a bit like this at all.

Though, when she repositions you onto your back to kiss at that spot below your ear, and you moan breathily into hers, you have a feeling she somehow knows.

Wanda's hand slithers up to your chest, raising your shirt up as it goes. Eventually, Wanda gets tired of the garment and slips it easily over your head. Her own following suit soon after.

Her hand tweaked at a nipple, smiling at your squeak of a response, "You're beautiful."

Another unoccupied hand trailed over your stomach before stopping at the hem of your shorts and underwear.

You've got the sudden urge to scream, maybe even beg, "Wanda...please."

"Are you sure?"

What about any of your body language in that current moment said 'unsure'?

"I'm sure. Touch me."

It's not make-up sex that you're having. At least, not really. Not...yet. It's more of 'thank god you're here with me and not letting me slip into a state of mortal peril' sex. Which is, of course, the next best thing.

When Wanda does finally slip underneath your thin garments, and the pads of her fingers trace delicately over your center, you think you might cry.

Whether it be from relief or some other feeling is the least of your worries at the moment.

In some way, you feel bad for Wanda, there's no way she doesn't feel your nails currently digging into her arm, but judging from the glimpse you get every time you manage to pry your eyes open, she seems pretty pleased with herself despite any pain she may be feeling.

The worst part? She's not even inside of you yet.

You're losing your mind over her fingers circling your clit and slipping, sliding over your lips. And you're drenched. Dripping some might even say.

"You're soaked, Detka..." Is what Wanda ends up whispering over your parted mouth. And you have no choice but to cosign.

You could feel her fingertips teasing at your entrance and your chest heaved. It took everything in you not to buck your hips to speed the process along. Only because you know Wanda. You know she likes to bask in your impatience. In your neediness. You know she likes it when you beg.

And you can't find it in you to do anything but.

"Wands, please fuck me."

She's leaning over you now. She had forgone general confidence and went straight to cocky, for lack of a better word. There's no need to pretend like you don't like it.

"Open your eyes." A simple request, it would seem. But it was easier said than done.

Soon, you manage to open your eyes, unfocused as they are. You stare back at Wanda with a bite to your lip and a strain to your neck.

"Say it again."

The words dribble from your lips like milk down a chin, "Wanda, please fuck me. I need-"

Your expletives cut off in exchange for a sharp inhale of breath.

Her fingers slipped into you easily, your resulting moan is the loudest one yet and just as sinful as your whimpers.

Wanda eyed you through her eyelashes, most of your energy was being used to stare back at her.

Her fingers rutted out, then back in. Pumping into you with enough force for your breath to hitch in rhythm.

You whimpered and panted, urging Wanda to pick up the pace. And she happily obliged.

"You look so gorgeous like this." The praise fluttering throught your ear and wrapped softly around your chest.

The hand that wasn't permanently glued to Wanda's poor bicep, reached for her neck, bringing her down into a deliriously arousing kiss.

She pumped into you, as firmly as your underwear allowed. Your bud caught against her palm. It was almost too much for you.

Your hips rolled against her hand, moans increasing in pitch and volume until Wanda had no choice but to muffle the sound with her lips again.

"God...Wanda!"

The kids may be gone, but you did still have neighbors.

It's not much longer after that you let go into Wanda's hand. Your legs trembling and your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

Wanda brought you down softly. Her hand on your waist to keep you from moving.

"But-"

"I'm good. Get some rest. I know you didn't sleep. I thought you would pass out somewhere in the middle of that, if I'm being honest."

You pouted and playfully swatted at her shoulder, "You snore and I got unused to it."

"That's not why you didn't sleep."

You bit the inside of your cheek, "It's not. I find your hog calling cute for some reason."

Wanda ignored the insistence that she snored, "What kept you awake?"

You weren't exactly sure what to say. The simple answer; you had been thinking all night. Too much and too little.

The complicated answer; you missed your fucking wife. And then, she was right there next to you and you didn't know what to feel. You didn't know if you wanted her back permanently or just needed the temporary comfort.

There was still a big question about this entire situation that you had yet to receive an answer to, and maybe then you could begin to figure things out.

"It's my turn to tell you something." You breathed out softly.

"Tell me everything."

You swallowed around the metaphorical lump obstructing your throat, "When I found out about...y'know....I couldn't help but think it was my fault, it was something I did to push you away. I thought that, and even though I didn't know what it was, I still tried to fix it, to fix me. And, that wasn't good...I-I just need to know if it was something I did."

"No. No, it was never you. After Strange, I guess I just felt like I wasn't enough. Like I couldn't be enough. And instead of talking to you about that like a normal person, I got so drunk I couldn't see straight and went home with someone who couldnt either. Fuck, I am so sorry I made you feel like that. I promise it was never you. You're perfect."

Your tears soak into the skin of Wanda's neck. Marking her in a way you've never done.

The silence that results is somewhere between comfortable and not, but Wanda breaks it anyway.

"Go on a date with me."

You hum, that time you really were seconds from passing out, "A date?"

"Yes. A date. I think we've changed a lot and should probably reintroduce ourselves to each other."

You nodded slowly, "Okay. You have to find a babysitter though and it can't be Pietro because he needs a babysitter too most days. I have a feeling he let Alexis chew his shirt right off his body today."

"Deal."

Another bout of silence. This time, you're the one who breaks it.

"Fuck, we're going to need so much therapy."

Wanda laughs.

"I'm sorry."

"I know." And you do. You know she is.

Eventually, you do fall asleep, and right before Pietro and the kids get home, Wanda slips out of your room into the livingroom. Making it look like she was there the entire morning.

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximoff #marvel female reader insert #marvel fanfiction #wlw fiction #jessicas fanfic #its all so incredibly loud

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pansyboybloom · 1 year

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What is is like going to the gyno while trans? I’m 19 and haven’t gone to one before, as a trans person the idea scares me. I don’t mind being referred to as a girl or women and I’ve accepted it’s not something I can change in my life right now, but I know the whole situation of being at a gyno will make me start to feel even worse about my situation. Do you have any tips on hyping myself up before and then calming down after wards?

so, it really depends on your doctor imo. I've worked with mine since I was 19, and while I don't necessarily like her, I trust her to respect me and my body. i went through my local lgbt clinic to find her via requesting some recommendations for trans/nb experienced and affirming gynos, and made sure to contact her ahead of time to let her know any and every detail she might need regarding my gender to make our appointment go more smoothly, including anything medical ive had done or plan to do. Obviously, this is the best-case scenario and not possible for everyone, but if you're in the central texas/austin area i def recommend the Texas health action's list of trans-friendly doctors. I see dr. kaufmen and even if she's a bit cold, she's always been respectful.

as for getting there and hyping up/down, unfortunately, im not the best to ask. i have a major fear of doctors and extreme dysphoria regarding others touching my genitalia so i usually cry the entire time :| but bringing a trusted friend to hold your hand and getting ice cream (or other treats) as a reward is what i do! Does anybody else have tips they'd be willing to share? i'd super appreciate it

all and all, having people to help affirm your gender prior to and after the appointment helps the most for me. it's very personal and takes time to find what works and what doc you like, but gyno health is important, esp if you start T. it doesn't get talked abt as much as id like, but t can cause vaginal atrophy (which is fully treatable!) and trans people w vaginas often develop vaginismus, which is when trauma/sex anxiety/fear of penetration/dysphoria causes an involuntary tightening of the pelvic floor, causing extreme pain and difficulty during penetrative sex, and so talking to a gyno can be helpful to have a healthy sex life. also, cancer screenings are important, so finding a way to make the gyno work for you, while hard, is really necessary!

Anyway, off my soapbox. if anyone else has advice, pls pls pls reply/reblog/send an ask in!!

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breedaboyd · 11 months

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Dr Rice does an experiment on Pierce that gives him a pussy?? 🤩 then he has to come to terms with it with his partner?

A/N: I wonder what kind of experiments they're performing in Transigen... 🤔🤔

(Gif by me.)

Pairing: Donald Pierce ☓ AMAB!Reader.

Word Count: 2.1k+

CW: Creampie, face-sitting, oral sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex.

The stark, fluorescent lights of the Transigen facility cast an unforgiving glow over the sterile surroundings. Don stands in the centre of the examination room, his prosthetic hand glinting faintly under the harsh lights. Doctor Rice surveys the room with clinical detachment.

"Donald." Rice's voice is steady, unwavering. "We have a proposition for you." Don narrows his eyes, a wariness settling in the depths of his gaze. He's been in these rooms before, subjected to tests and experiments that have left their marks, both seen and unseen.

"'M not one of your lab rats, doc." He retorts quietly, the edge in his voice betraying his reluctance. Rice raises an eyebrow, unperturbed.

"Consider it a special assignment. We require someone with a particular skill set." Don's jaw tightens. He knows what 'special assignment' often entails in this place – a high-risk mission, the kind that leaves no room for error. It's not a task for the faint-hearted, and Don's no stranger to danger.

"Already got shit to do." Don counters. Rice studies him for a moment, then steps forward, his gaze piercing.

"I'm aware of your…financial inclinations, Donald." Don's eyes narrow further. "Let's just say there will be a substantial bonus attached to the successful completion of this assignment. Consider it hazard pay." The promise of extra cash hangs in the air, tantalising and tempting. It's an offer that, while fraught with the chances of horrible side-effects, could really help in the long run.

For a moment, the room is silent, save for the sterile hum of machinery. Then, slowly, deliberately, Don nods.

"Alright, doc. You've got yourself a deal."

Don stumbles into the mess hall, dazed and looking very concerned. You leave your food and rush over, holding him up, getting him steady, as the Reavers look over from their usual table.

"Don? What's up? You okay?" You ask and Don shakes his head.

"The doc…did somethin' to me. Not sure…what he did but…makes me…sick…" He seems scared, completely frightened and disorientated, and your heart pounds in your chest. The doc is the worst of the lot. He's in charge of experiments and drug development.

"Okay, let's get you upstairs, right? Sit you down. I'll give you a once over, make sure you're okay. C'mon, Don."

Taking him upstairs isn't easy, you're half carrying him, doing the majority of the work, dragging him with you. Finally, you both collapse on his bed. As best you can, you strip him of his coat, followed by his shirt. Nothing so far. He's just clammy and terrified and possibly a little sick. You untie his boots and pull them off before moving your fingers to his belt. He stops you, prosthetic laid on your hands. You glance up and he gives you this look. He's concerned, scared.

"It's okay, Don. Just let me look." Gently, you remove his belt, then rest your fingers against the zip on his fly. "I just wanna make sure you're okay." You push him back and tug off his pants and boxer-shorts. And, sure enough, he's not the same as he was when he woke up this morning. Instead of the thick, flaccid cock you're used to seeing dangling between his legs, he's got this beautifully wet cunt, pretty lips and a thick, hooded clit peeking out at the top. Don watches you down the length of his body.

"Wh…What is it? What is it?!" He demands and he sits up, flesh hand palming between his legs. There's panic on his face now. "The fuck?!" You place your hands on his thighs.

"You in any pain? Still nauseous?" You ask. He looks down at you, confused.

"… No? Don't think so. Just feels…hot…down there." He tells you and you nod. "He turned me into a fuckin'… Into a… Into…"

"You mind if I check how you're doing down there, Don? Have a…feel around?" Because, Christ, his pussy's calling to you. Those thick lips begging to be touched. Don doesn't say anything, just goes red all over and lies back down on the bed, letting his thighs fall open a little more.

You shuck off your jacket and lean in a little. Slowly, oh-so slowly, you run your index finger around his clit and he shudders.

"F-Fuck, what're you d-doin'?" He stammers airily.

"Relax, Don. Trust me. I'll stop if you want me to." You say and he looks away, closing his mouth, and your lips quirk slightly. "That feel good?"

"F-F-Fuck, yeah… Ngh…!"

"Shh, shh, I've gotcha, Donnie. Just lie still. Let me take care of you." You soothe and he stills, gripping the bed covers like his life depends on it. "Seems you're all good there…" You say, mainly to yourself, before sliding your fingers down and pressing one inside him. He tenses at the sudden intrusion and then relaxes and bites his lip. Oh, those walls are warm. Clamping around your finger and drawing you in with that delectable heat. Like silk on the inside. You move your finger around a little, pulling out then pushing back in, gaining more confidence as Don stays docile. He's so pretty in his submission and your dick's standing to attention, pressing against the rough fabric of your pants. "Yeah, you're… Fuck, what did they do to you in there, Donnie?"

"D-Dunno… Fuuuuck… Wouldn't tell me." Don replies, the hint of a whimper in his voice. You pull your finger from him and it takes all your self-restraint not to suck the finger clean of his slick.

"Want me to leave you to it or…?" You don't finish the sentence, hoping Don's at the point of needing a little help. He glances to the side and chews his lip, flushed from the shoulders up.

"Could you…keep goin'? Jus'…touch me?"

"All you have to do is ask, Donnie."

You lean in to seal your lips over his clit, giving it a long lick, and he shivers. You trace your tongue over his folds, tasting the heady, sweet slick he's producing, moaning yourself at his musky scent. You hook your arm under his thigh, forcing his leg up over your shoulder, leaving the best view possible for you. And, Jesus Christ, what a view. You go to work on him, lapping at him, and he whines, his heels digging into your back. This is all new to you but you're enjoying every second of it. Fuck knows how this is possible but you're not sure you want to think about the science behind it right now. All you know is that this incredibly tight, swollen pussy is being presented for your pleasure.

You pull away for a moment and he huffs at the loss. You're rock hard in your pants and you need to let off some steam, quick.

"Donnie, you wanna ride my face?" You murmur and Don looks at you, biting his lip.

"Yeah… Mhmm… Wanna do that…" He replies breathily and you nod.

You stand and strip down, laying down on his bed and watching as he straddles your head, hands braced against your chest. He has such a pretty, pink cunt, your eyes roaming him hungrily. You hook your arms over his thighs and pull him down to bury your face in him. He gasps, muscles clenching as he adjusts to your face between his thighs. You groan in appreciation, your cock throbbing as he moans, as he presses himself against your face. And then he does something you don't expect; he leans down and takes your cock into his mouth, groaning around it as you swipe your tongue across his folds.

The filthy sound of him sucking you while you lick that pretty cunt rings through the room. Don moans and whines around your cock, mouth slipping over you as you trace patterns across his flesh with the tip of your tongue. The way he tightens up around you when you take his thick clit in your mouth is so perfect, you're already close. You feel him growing closer too. His whines get breathier and louder, the bucking of his hips growing more erratic. He takes your cock down again, shuddering as you grab his ass, kneading the soft, doughy flesh there. Fuck, you're in heaven. The weight of him on your face, the taste, the smell… He bucks down on you, sucking harder, taking you deeper. Fuck, Donnie…

Your heart skips a beat, heat twisting in the depths of your gut. Don tenses against you, cunt clenching up. He's whining, mewling, bucking against you as his body tenses, grinding himself down against your face. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's cumming and, fuck, he cums hard. He fucking squirts into your mouth, right over your face, and you lap it up, moaning in time with the strokes of his tongue around your cock.

When the aftershocks subside, he slumps against you, panting hard and still shoving his cunt against your face. Your cock throbs, dangerously hard, but Don needs to catch his breath first.

You let him slip off and roll him onto the mattress beside you, breathing heavy, flush covering his face. He manages to smile at you, a soft, sated, little look that you're more than familiar with. You use your shirt to towel your face before kneeling back between his thighs, your cock achingly hard and slick with spit.

"Turn over for me, Donnie. C'mon, get up on your hands and knees." And he obeys. You lean down and kiss a trail along his spine as you take yourself in your hand. "You ready?"

"M-Mhm… Yeah…" His back arches, looking over his shoulder as you get into place behind him. Your hands grab at his hips, fingertips sinking into the soft flesh there. You stroke yourself a couple times and, in spite of yourself, your hips jerk forward as you angle yourself against him, his hot cunt drawing you in slowly. Holy fuck. That tight heat. Soft flesh clamped around you. Don curses, gasping, pushing back onto your cock, your grip on his hips keeping him from taking any more than you're willing to give.

You sink in slow and it's a good thing too because you damn near hit a wall at his hymen. God, the doc turned him into a fucking virgin. That's probably why this all feels so good. Keeping your hand on his hip, your free hand moves to cup his ass, squeezing and kneading. "Fuck, feels so big… F-F-Fuuuuck… Don't…fuckin'…stop…!"

He sounds so whiny and fucking perfect. You go so slow and gentle, in a drawn-out, languid thrust, bury your cock in his cunt. Hot. Tight. Pretty, pink lips stretching around your cock, snug and velvety. You nearly cum on the spot as those muscles clench and flutter around you. You pick up a steady rhythm, smooth, even strokes. Want to enjoy this as much as you can.

Your thrusts slowly get harder and faster, building up speed. But you can't go too fast or you'll cum too quick. Don's bracing against the force of your thrusts and they're hard enough that they send him sliding a little way along the mattress. You hear him whimper. What a gorgeous sound. He buries his face in the covers, clamping his walls around you again.

"God, Donnie, you fuckin'… Jesus, I'm gonna… Gonna cum, can't hold it back any more…" You feel his skin break out in a shiver at your words, his cunt fluttering a few times, clenching down around you. His fingers fist in the bed covers, prosthetic tearing at the thin fabric. "Can I cum inside you, Don?"

"Mhm… C-Cum in me… F-Fuck… Can I-I cum again?" And it's so fucking adorable that he's asking. You lean down to whisper in your ear, your pace not slowing for a second.

"Cum for me, Don. Wanna feel you squirt all over my cock." You growl in his ear and that's all it takes.

Don stutters out a harsh curse as he cums again. He squirts on your cock. His cunt pulses around you, so tight, so slick, so eager to take your cum as you fuck him through his orgasm. You clench your jaw, your grip on his hips tightening. And then you cum, buried as deep as you can. You fill him to the brim, warmth spilling into him. You buck up a few times, teeth gritted as you finish.

When you pull out, a thin trail of cum connects the head of your cock to his fucked-out cunt. You land on the bed and collapse beside him, pulling him to your chest, a mess of sweat and slick. He's breathing hard, short of breath, his heartbeat so strong you can feel it pulsing in the veins of his neck. He rests his head on your shoulder and laughs in disbelief, letting his eyes fall closed. You pet his hair and nuzzle against the crook of his neck. "Not so bad, hm? Not bad at all. Could get used to this." He smiles at that.

#character: donald pierce #source: logan #misc: chariot writes #misc: ask #type: reader

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