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romanoffsdarling · 7 months

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Time To Say (Goodbye)

Pairing: Daughter-in-Law!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s something that should have never started in the first place, something you should have stopped long ago. Why does something so wrong have to feel so right?

Word Count: 3,339

Warnings: G!P Wanda, cheating/infidelity, slight daddy kink, oral (R and Wanda receiving), possessive sex, angst. 18+, Minors DNI.

Author’s Note: Sorry if this is trash… I haven’t really written for G!P before.

“How did your date go?”

It’s an innocent question, borne out of genuine interest in your personal life, but you couldn’t stop the smallest of winces from flitting across your face. The feeling of burning eyes boring into the side of your head doesn’t help things, but you meet the gentle gaze of your daughter steadily, a wane smile curling your lips upward.

“It went fine,” you reply, placing your fork back down on the placemat. Lest she notice the shakiness of your hand. “I had a great time.”

“Will you be seeing him again?”

The husky voice, made even huskier by the accent slipping through the cracks, interrupts whatever your daughter had been about to say. A certain note of sharpness laid within it that you could pick out instantly, but your daughter seemed wholly unaware of. Instead, she offers you an encouraging smile too, clearly agreeing with her wife. Knowing that if you didn’t look at her, if you didn’t even try to create a semblance of normalcy, then your daughter, for all of her obliviousness, would pick up on something— that being the last thing you want.

Meeting darkened emerald with your own steady gaze is a test unto itself— staring into the eyes of Wanda Maximoff, your daughter’s wife, and answering a question about your dating life is one thing, but staring at the woman you’ve secretly been having an affair with?

An entirely different matter.

“I don’t know.” Honesty is the best possibility, right? Even though you think that scheme of rules had abandoned you long ago. “He was nice, but I don’t know if he’d want to see me again.”

Your daughter scoffs. “Please, he’d be an absolute idiot to not want to take you out again.” She shifts in her seat, gesturing towards her wife. “Right, Wanda?”

Wanda, who had been staring at you with an unreadable expression, seemingly softens, but you could see the war being waged within her eyes, as she smiles gently. “An absolute fool.” Emerald eyes trace over your face. “Only an imbecile would be able to let you go.”

You shift in your seat, well aware of the double nuance hidden within her words, but your daughter continues forward with the conversation, easily switching subjects to something that happened to her at work the previous week, and you’ve never been more relieved for a shift then right now.

Even though, as you begin to slowly finish your dinner, listening half heartedly to your daughters rambling, you could feel Wanda’s gaze still steadily boring into you. A heat building between the two of you that you know she wouldn’t let go of— no matter what.

You should have known that she’d corner you when your daughter was otherwise preoccupied upstairs, your own attention being on finishing up the dishes.

A warm body suddenly pressing you into the counter, heated lips tracing across your neck, almost makes you drop the plate in your grasp, but you’re able to steady yourself just enough to stop that inevitable disaster from occurring.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you went on a date?” The words are snarled against your pulse point, teeth digging into the sensitive flesh there. No doubt leaving a mark that’d you have for the next few days as a reminder. “That you let someone else ever think they’d be able to have you?”

A small sound escapes your throat before you can stop it. The feeling of Wanda pressed so firmly against your back: hands gripping your hips, a familiar bulge making its home against your ass, and the soothing tongue that’s gently lapping over yet another mark she had just made.

“Answer me,” she hisses, warm breath hot over the shell of your ear. “I want to know why the fuck you thought I’d ever let anyone else have you?”

You shake your head. “We can’t do this, Wanda. What we’ve been doing—” A gasp is wrenched from your lips when Wanda grinds her erection against you, her blatant need for you apparent. “It’s wrong. What we’re doing is wrong.”

Wanda huffs out a laugh. “That’s not what you were saying when I had you screaming on this very counter last weekend. In fact—” She steps closer, pulling you impossibly tighter against her body. “I think you wanted nothing more than for me to continue.”

Turning in her grasp, you’re soon face-to-face with Wanda’s smoldering gaze, the darkness from earlier making its appearance blatantly known. “My daughter, your wife, is upstairs right now.” You glance up, trying to hear any note of disturbance. Fortunately not finding any. “We can’t do this anymore, Wanda. I can’t keep betraying my daughter like this.”

“How many times have I told you that I’d divorce her for you? How many fucking times have I told you that I’m completely in love with you?” She steps forward, forehead pressing against your own, voice dropped to a heated whisper. “You’re the love of my life. No one, not even your daughter, will ever be able to compare.”

You flinch at the reminder of your child. “We’ve been over this. You love what I do for your body, Wanda. You don’t love me, I’m over a decade older than you, much more than that let’s be honest, and there’s nothing you can say that’ll change that fact.” You run a frazzled hand through your hair. “Why can’t you accept that?”

“Because you mean everything to me.”

“And she means everything to me.”

A snarl curls her lips upward, clearly displeased by the turn that this conversation had taken, but you’re well aware that Wanda wouldn’t simply let this be— that she wouldn’t just let you go. Not after everything you’ve been through together.

While you firmly believed that Wanda didn’t love you in the manner she said she did— however much it may cause your heart to flutter whenever she said it— you do believe that she felt a bone-deep attraction to you. That she craved you in the same exact way that you did for her.

Instinctually.

Carnally.

Like the very basis of your beings were meant to be united in an intrinsic way— hence the passionate love affair that you’ve been part of for the last two years.

“Get on your knees.” The command shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, not with how worked up Wanda clearly was, but you still couldn’t stem the shocked expression from making an appearance on your face. “You heard me, baby. I want you to get on your knees for me.”

“Wand—”

A snarl interrupts your rebuttal, surprisingly strong hands gripping your biceps in an iron hold. “No,” she hisses. “This is not the time to argue, this is not the time to make up fucking excuses on why we shouldn’t do this, we only have a little while left before she comes back down here. I’m not going to waste the time I have with you by fighting over something we clearly both want.” Wanda tugs at your arms, showing you clearly what she wants. “Get on your knees. Now.”

Knowing that there’s no use in denying her any further, not with the way your own arousal is currently painting you thighs beneath your dress, you follow her command, eliciting a contented sigh from her. With slightly shaking hands, you quickly make work of both her belt and shimmy her tights jeans down her legs, instantly being met by her hard length.

“Come on, baby,” Wanda coos, threading her fingers through the strands of your hair. “You know what I want.”

Without preamble, or any form of warning, you take Wanda completely into your mouth— from tip until your nose brushes across her pubic bone— delighting in the harsh gasp she lets out, the hand not in your hair steadying herself on the counter behind you. The taste of Wanda, her familiar scent, entrances you completely, surrounding you wholeheartedly. Bobbing up and down, mindful to keep your lips completely sealed to deter any possible noise from escaping, the feeling of Wanda stretching out your throat due to her girth is a heady drug you’ve grown addicted to.

“Fuck,” Wanda curses, hands tightening in your hair. Dragging you up and down her cock, forcing herself further into the back of your throat. “You’re doing so good, baby. Taking me so well. Better than anyone ever has.”

Your nails dig into the backs of her thighs, tongue lashing across the sensitive head, tasting the pre-cum that’s been steadily escaping since you started, the familiar salty, and somehow slightly sweet, flavor making you suck even harder. The action causes Wanda’s hips to jerk harshly, gagging you due to how deep her cock goes, but only a filthy groan is what she gives you in form of an apology— darkened emerald eyes watching you with rapt attention.

Feeling the way she’s beginning to jerk, the way that her hips were beginning to stutter in their momentum, causes you to become aware of how close she is to cumming. Which is why, when Wanda pulls out of your mouth entirely, a small hiss leaving her lips due to the difference in temperature, you’re fairly confused.

With a hand on your neck, Wanda drags you upward, lips descending to filthily meet yours in a twisted embrace. Her tongue meeting yours in a tangle, getting reacquainted with one another, before her teeth nips at your bottom lip when she pulls away. A thin trail of saliva connects you both, so close to one another you weren’t even sure whose air you were breathing anymore.

“You’re so perfect for me,” Wanda murmurs, slender fingers trailing down you face. “The perfect girl for daddy.”

Your thighs clench together at the nickname— one that isn’t used often, as you’re still embarrassed by it at times, but you’ve slowly come to terms with it, how hot it makes Wanda feel, and the erotic thrill it sends down your spine whenever you utter it in the heat of passion.

Wanda’s hands snake down to the back of your legs, placing you so you’re seated on the cold, marble countertop, dark emerald eyes tracing over the expanse of exposed skin that’s at her disposal. Hiking up your dress until it’s situated around your waist, Wanda drinks in the sight of your bare legs, until they settle on her prize. A heated expression taking over the briefly surprised one.

“Not wearing any panties, baby?” A slender finger trials down your slit, parting your folds and barely dipping into the wetness she finds there. “Naughty girl.”

“Only for you.”

A wordless cry is ripped from your throat when Wanda descends onto your clit with a ravenous hunter, tongue lashing against the bundle of sensitive nerves. Drinking you in as if you were her favorite drink, hands making sure you were kept wide open for her. When she lowers herself further, giving her the perfect angle to dip her tongue into your opening, a small keen escapes you. Brief panic settling within your chest as it echoes across the kitchen— not that it stops Wanda in the slightest. In fact, at the confirmation that she was making you feel good, she sped up her movements. Working further and further into your tunnel, small noises of her own, muffled by your cunt, showcasing how affected she is by your taste and the feel of you.

Your climax washes over you quickly, both by how long it’s been since she’s touched you, and the fervency in which she’s currently doing so. Barely being able slap a hand over your mouth before you scream out your release, gushing into Wanda’s waiting mouth, hips flexing and bucking against her solid hold, you feel the tremors make their way down your spine, sending a pleasant chill through you.

Wanda only pulls away once she’s helped you through the aftershocks, face slick with your wetness, but the familiar fire once again scorches you through you at the look she levels you with.

“I need to have you,” Wanda murmurs, standing to settle between your still parted legs. Her cock, that looks almost painfully hard, resting against you, rubbing slightly against your clit, as she situates herself. “We don’t have a lot of time left. Not enough for me to worship you the way you deserve to be worshiped.” She looks almost put out by that. “But, I’m still going to fuck you in a way that only I will ever be able to replicate. Make you mine in the way that you’ve made me yours. Think you can handle that, baby?”

As an answer, you loosely wrap your arms around her neck, tugging her into a brief kiss. You’re well aware you didn’t have enough time left, that idle chitchat would only shave it sway, which is something Wanda seems to register at last. Within the next moment, she’s buried to the hilt in you, your walls stretching to accommodate the familiar length. Tucking your head into her neck, to muffle some of your moans as Wanda begins to thrust, you grapple at her back, nails digging into the leather of her jacket, as Wanda seems to lose herself in the feel of you.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh permeates the air, an occasional grunt or moan intercepting it, and you’d normally be concerned by how much noise you’re making, especially since your daughter is still in the house, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when Wanda fills you so completely, when she plays your body like her favorite instrument.

“Keep fucking me, baby,” you whine, grappling her shoulders, a small tremor making itself known. “I’m so close.”

You were drunk on pleasure as Wanda kept driving her hips forward, one slender finger roughly rubbing your clit in time with each thrust. It’s of no surprise that you find your release quickly after, gushing over Wanda’s cock.

Something that causes her to groan, no doubt feeling the way your inner walls began to constrict around her, trying to milk her for everything she’s worth.

“I’m not going to last much longer, baby,” Wanda gasps, lowering her head to your shoulder. Hips flexing as she tries to stem her climax to extend her pleasure just a bit more, to keep feeling you for just a bit longer. “Going to fill you up.”

With a stuttering thrust, a sharp groan escaping her, Wanda bites down onto the juncture where your shoulder meets your neck, as her climax hits her— jets of her cum painting your inner walls white, warming you up.

Once her own shuddering dies down, when she’s resting limply against your body, your hands gently tracing down her still quivering back, does her voice finally break the silence between you. “I don’t know if I can give this up.” She pulls you back, emerald eyes pleading with you. “I don’t know if I can give you up.”

A bitter smile twists your lips upward, the reminder that Wanda wasn’t truly yours, and that you weren’t truly hers, leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“It’ll be best for everyone,” you reply, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ears. Heart cracking at the way she leans into the gentle touch. “You owe it to yourself, and my daughter, to try and make your marriage work.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“It will.” It’s an affirmation, one you didn’t particularly put your entire heart behind. Something you didn’t want to dwell too much on. “Anyone would be lucky to have you, Wanda.”

Tears gather in emerald eyes eyes, her head dropping to rest against your chest, as sadness swells between the both of you.

“The only person I want to have me is you.”

You press a kiss to the top of her head, closing your eyes to abate your own tears. “I know.”

“Are you going to come up and visit us during the holidays, mom?”

Your daughter’s hopeful face twists the knife deeper into your heart, but you offer her a gentle smile in return.

“If my schedule allows for it.” You open your arms to accept the final hug she wanted to give you, thankful that you had half a mind to clean yourself up further after you tryst in the kitchen. “I’d love to come visit, you know that.”

At her happy squeal, she finally detached from you, shifting to fully stand on the other side of your doorway, where Wanda had been silently waiting for the last ten minutes, emerald eyes never straying far from you, and you offer her one last smile.

“Drive safe you two,” you warn, what you hope is a good natured expression on your face. “I want you two to be intact when I see you next.”

Your daughter laughs brightly at that, already moving to unload all of her bags in the car, leaving just you and Wanda standing on the porch. A tension falling between you two instantly.

“It was nice to see you, Wanda,” you say, trying to be diplomatic about this entire thing. “I hope the journey back won’t be too long.”

Wanda’s lips thin. “Don’t—” She turns to look back, making sure your daughter is still getting situated in the car. “Don’t treat me like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re saying goodbye.”

You shake your head, a bitter feeling welling within your chest. “Aren’t I?” At the clear look that she’s about to rebuke your statement, you continue. “We’ve both agreed that you need to work on your marriage, Wanda. That you need to try and fix what’s been broken. To do that you can’t see me, and I can’t see you. It’d only end us right back where we started.”

“No,” Wanda hisses, making sure to keep her voice low. “I can’t not talk to you, can’t not see you, I won’t be able to survive.”

Your hand twitches at your side, wanting nothing more than to reach out and caress her cheek. Take away the anguish, the grief, that’s slowly settling over her beautiful face. “You’ll have to, Wanda. For the time being you’ll have to.” Taking a step back, deeper into the house, you almost sob at Wanda’s innate need to follow you. “We’ll see each other again. Once we’ve gotten one another out of our systems, once we’ve learned to be near one another without being together, we’ll see one another again.”

Wanda’s anguish is palpable to you, the pain shown so clearly within her emerald eyes, but you can’t back down. Not from this, not when you’ve finally found the strength to do what you should have done from the start.

The honking of the car in your driveway pulls your attention from her to your daughter’s impatient face. “You have to go.” You don’t turn back to her, knowing that if you saw her pain again you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself. “You have a long drive ahead of you.”

There’s a brief best of silence, wherein Wanda clearly waits for you to look at her, to do something, but you can’t. Not now. So, after another moment, she makes a noise low in her throat, almost like a wounded animal, and barely mutters out. “Goodbye.”

Something begins to rot in your chest, but you only allow a sad smile to twist your lips.

“Goodbye, Wanda.”

And, with that, she steps away from you, getting into the car, and driving off, disappearing down the road and out of your life for the foreseeable future. It’s only once you’re sure they’re gone, when you’re safely hidden behind the closed and locked door of your house, that you allow the tears to come, for your own anguish and grief to come to the surface.

You know what you did was the right thing. That it’d be better for yourself and Wanda for the long run, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Nor did it stop you from wishing that she’d come back.

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