xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

REBECCA FERGUSON as ILSA FAUST

Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation (2015) Dir. Christopher McQuarrie

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

I need to be held so bad

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

Wanda and reader being a parent to tons of cats because Wanda won't stop taking home any stray cats she sees.

it may be my sudden emo wanda brainrot but i can totally see her doing this in sokovia too :3 in any orphanage she’d find time to explore and find strays to feed them, and overtime and to pietro’s amazement the cats would always find out where they were living from following wanda around

whenever they got moved around between orphanages or even when they got out of them and started living on their own, in a few weeks a hotspot of kitties would develop somewhere on the block

tho wanda could never keep them because of her living conditions and how she didn’t actually have a home for them to stay in, even when they worked for hydra

so now that she has a stable place and a family, wanda is infinitely blessed by the cat distribution system and can now finally adopt the kitties she finds!!

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

Take Me Softly

Wanda x female reader

Summary: You've been waiting for Wanda to return from a mission, making sure everything is in its rightful place, tidying the house and ordering food, but when she gets home there's a strange feeling you just can't shake…

Content: 🔞 Domestic fluff, smut, mommy kink, fingering, oral, light dom/sub, improper use of dubiously acquired shadow powers, restraint (kind of), bottom!Wanda, light angst, brief reference to hydra captivity

Word Count: 3 ,663 Can be read below but is also available on [AO3]

Everything was exactly as it should be.

The smell of lemongrass incense hung in the air as a period mark on a day spent cleaning and tidying. The bedsheets were changed, the fridge was freshly stocked from a grocery delivery in the morning, and the living room was awash in cosy hues from fairy lights and candles.

You walked through the house, appraising your surroundings with a keen eye, taking in the mix antique hardwood furniture softened by plush blankets and pillows, natural rustic hues complimented by soft black, warm burgundy, and hints of sea green. It pulled a smile from you, seeing your colours together.

Being at ease with this place had taken time. You were so used to the nearly constant activity of others in the compound or the tower that the unassuming quiet of a private dwelling was, at times, rather disquieting . But you grew to appreciate it. 

You loved seeing the Hudson river glittering in the morning sun and the abundant greenery that rushed to fill the space as the concrete dominion of New York City fell away–Sleepy Hollow was a pretty place to live. It certainly helped that it was almost perfectly situated between the Tower and the Compound so no matter where the team deplaned it would only be an hour’s drive to get home, so as soon as Wanda texted saying she had landed and was on her way home, you had more than enough  time for final preparations.

Brimming with excitement, you took the wine out of the fridge and ordered some takeout, knowing that Greek food would be very appreciated. A platter of roasted tomatoes and peppers, fresh flatbreads, and juicy lamb kebabs seasoned to perfection, naturally with a healthy helping of tzatziki to go with it. To say nothing of the sweet pastries for after, nutty and decadent with citrus infused syrup.

Yes, everything was perfect, the only thing left was Wanda walking through the front door, safe and sound, and you could finally release the anxious knot in your stomach.

Wanda’s mission had been a long one, longer than yours at any rate which meant you were home first and spent the last few days trying to occupy yourself, trying not to think about everything that could go wrong and send yourself into a spiral of ever darkening thoughts. 

You took pride in how far you’d come since your early days with the Avengers, no longer a nervous wreck expecting the worst at every turn, reflexively disappearing in a plume of shadows when you felt overwhelmed, but able to calm yourself and work through it, even if familiar words rattled in the corners of your mind.

“You can’t be proud of yourself . You sound arrogant, egotistical. Only other people can be proud of you.”

Words from a wounded mother, projecting her pain like love, wielding life lessons like a knife to cut away everything the world could hurt you with, never realising how much you bled because of her.

No.

Making you bleed was what Hydra was for.

The warmth is draining, burning out of you, leached away by a dense, icy cold that latches onto the heat of your soul like a starving thing. It’s hungry, it's so hungry, and it has you between its teeth, gnashing, chewing, swallowing, more and more and more. It feasts until you are cold, until you are empty and frozen and dead, and you are violently flung back to the waking world screaming for the mother who put you here.

The memory passed over you, acknowledged, observed, and gently pushed aside.

Today was one of the good ones–therapy had been kind to you.

You distracted yourself from counting down the minutes by drawing, situating yourself in the den with your tablet, music playing on low volume as you simply let the image take shape.

Separate missions weren’t uncommon, you and your shadowy powers were far better suited to covert ops and even in group missions that often meant scouting ahead alone or infiltrating the location with Natasha to provide better intel.

Rationally, you knew that.

Spiritually, you were more at ease when you could fight by Wanda’s side.

Checking your phone, you smiled at the message Wanda sent announcing her pending arrival and hurried upstairs to put on something a little more flattering than shorts and an oversized t-shirt. You settled on some black yoga pants that hugged your legs like a second skin and a dark red halter top Wanda was especially fond of seeing you in because it showed off your shoulders and back, not to mention how she appreciated the colour on you.

Keys in the door had you rushing downstairs, heart leaping, excitement and relief mixing into a lightheaded rush that nearly made you stumble at the last step.

There she was, back in civilian clothes for the drive home, hair still damp at the tips from a post-mission shower, and hanging up her go-bag in the entryway.

“Welcome home, mein herz (my heart) ,” you grinned.

Wanda brightened upon seeing you, eyes all but sparkling as she quickly closed the distance, drawing you into a hug that made the house feel like a home again, its missing piece finally in place.

Sliding your arms into her jacket, you burrowed into the warm space between her neck and shoulder, arms firm around her waist, greedily soaking your hands in the warmth of her back, relishing in the weight and realness of her, the unbreakable assurance that she was home and she was okay.

“ Malyshka (baby girl) ,” Wanda whispered, sinking a hand into your hair. She breathed deeply, taking in the scent of your perfume, and let out a long, gentle sigh as if exhaling all the stress of the last several days. “I missed you.”

The rest of the world felt a million miles away at that moment.

The doorbell startled you both, and Wanda peered down at you with an amused quirk to her lips. “Dinner?”

“Of course, I ordered Greek.”

“That sounds perfect right now, thank you.”

With tender swiftness she kissed your nose and headed off to the kitchen while you fetched the delivery. The food was easily plated up and brought to the table that split the kitchen from the living room, already set, and you made sure not to forget the wine.

Between bites of food the details of respective missions were shared, less a formal debrief and more bridging the gaps in the timeline where one of you was missing. It was also an opening to vent if something stupid or unexpected happened to complicate things but thankfully, no such thing had occurred this time, small victories amidst the stress that came with being an Avenger.

The ‘debrief’ helped put a neat little bow on things, a capstone to the time apart. The missions were over, you were both safe and sound at home, having a nice, peaceful meal together like any normal couple after work, and chances were good you would have at least a week to yourselves.

After putting the leftovers away, you eyed Wanda at the sink, just finishing up with plates and glasses, absently drying her hands. She looked relaxed, content, the warm light of the kitchen bringing out the red in her hair.

She must have noticed you just standing in her periphery and glanced, catching you staring with a silly, besotted look on your face that you made no attempt to hide.

A soft laugh slipped out of her and she returned focus to her hands, making sure they were dry before she slipped her rings back on. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were in love,” she teased.

Oh, you were, hopelessly, deliriously so.

Humming in shameless agreement you approached her from behind and embraced her, propping your chin on her shoulder.

Wanda put the kitchen towel aside, laying her hands over yours. She started swaying a little and you followed her movement, sighing happily at the warmth, the closeness, the indelible weight of her presence in your arms.

Remembering the pastries, you tilted your head enough to catch her eye. “I was thinking we could melt on the couch for a few hours, continue with Brooklyn-99?” you said, smiling, a little coy. “There were pastries in the delivery too.”

Wanda gasped in faux shock, lightly slapping your arms. “You should have led with the pastries!”

An hour later and you were happily snuggled together in the den, surrounded by the cosy illumination of candles and fairy lights, pajamas on and blankets askew, only half paying attention to the hijinks unfolding on screen. You were far more preoccupied with the steady sound of Wanda’s heartbeat under your ear and the feeling of her slender fingers absently sliding through your hair.

When the occasional giggle or laugh resonated in her chest, warmth bloomed in yours and the urge to snuggle closer grew until it simply couldn’t be ignored.

Adjusting your position, you ended up with your head tucked against her neck, breathing in a warm mix of spiced almonds, amber, and white tea leaves, her go-to perfume a deeply sought comfort while she was gone.

Your intentions were perfectly innocent, you just wanted to feel closer to her, and a pleased little hum escaped you when Wanda’s hand slipped from your hair and down your back, fingertips tracing patterns between your shoulder blades.

But your lips were awfully close to her neck in such a position, surely you couldn’t be blamed for being enticed by your girlfriend’s wonderfully soft skin.

Nosing down the line of her jaw, you slowly mouthed at the tender flesh within reach, not fully kissing or biting, just careful little motions meant to tease.

Wanda’s breathing hitched momentarily.

She didn’t acknowledge it, but the hand tracing your spine became firm in its touch, blunt nails digging against you just enough to be felt.

Feeling encouraged, you began to leave light kisses and bites, enamored with the way Wanda subtly shifted under you. 

Ordinarily you’d be waiting to see how far you could go before she turned the tables and put you in your proper place, you weren’t much of a brat, you enjoyed being her good little dolly far too much, but you liked teasing her, getting her worked up and lusting, wanting . You knew how to dress and style yourself to catch her attention, the words and tone of voice that made a switch flip in her brain just as she knew all the same tricks to make you a pretty, obedient mess for her.

Tonight, however, tonight was different.

The entire day felt different, in fact, like there was a charge in the air, and you’d dismissed it as anticipation while you waited for Wanda to arrive home, but now you could feel it in her as well, simmering under the surface.

Finally, Wanda acknowledged your mischief. “And just what do you think you’re doing down there?” she asked softly, an accusation without its edge.

The words came out in a low rasp, hungry with intent, “just trying to make you feel good, mommy.”

A light flush came over Wanda’s face. “Is that right?” she asked.

Slowly her hand slid down to your hip, tracing the thin band of skin exposed by your top riding up.

You smiled and lowered your head, kissing the pulse point in her neck. “You work so hard for the world, for friends, and for me,” you murmured, trailing your lips up to the shell of Wanda’s ear. “Shouldn’t you be taken care of like the precious thing you are?”

Wanda sucked in a breath.

You expected to feel her hand tighten on you, nails digging in as she prepared to flip your over, and yet. The charge in the air felt like a current running between your bodies.

Purposefully, you rocked your hips against hers, biting your lip at the friction. “Would mommy like that?”

Her hips rocked back and the little whimper that escaped Wanda nearly sent your thoughts into a feral tailspin, a flash of heat warming your belly and sinking lower.  “I’ve got you,” you said hurriedly, scattering kisses down her jaw. “You don’t have to worry about anything tonight. Please, let me make you feel good, mommy.”

Wanda shivered under you. “Go ahead, malyshka (baby girl) .”

You slipped your hand down her front and underneath the hem of her sweater, relishing the warmth of her skin as your fingers splayed against her stomach.

She arched, tilting her head back to give you more room, and you greedily took what she offered, licking a hot, wet stripe along the column of her throat.

Another whimper hit your ears and you all but growled against her skin, dragging your teeth against it with enough pressure to draw a soft groan out of her.

Every little shift made you painfully aware of how wet you were, the tingling rush of blood pulled to your lower body, the throb of your clit demanding attention–you pushed it out of mind.

Moving your hand down, your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her pajamas, relishing the way her hips canted to meet your touch, and you grinned upon finding your girlfriend in no better state than you. She was soaked, her cunt hot and sensitive as you gathered her wetness on your fingers and circled her clit.

Wanda shivered, opening her thighs to make room for you. 

Her free hand sank into your hair but didn’t try to direct you, only pulling enough to make you look at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes dark and hazy in a way that almost reminded you of when lust overpowered her patience, only this was softer, needier.

Biting her lip, Wanda said, “Please, kiss me.”

A hot frisson ran down your spine and settled between your thighs at breathless quality to her voice, the urge to fuck her into the couch cushions almost intense enough to make you dizzy.

Smiling, you shifted until you were level with her, the hand between her legs slowly toying with her clit and drawing out those pretty little noises. “What was that, mommy?” you asked, far too innocently.

You added pressure when it looked like she was going to answer, her expression fracturing with pleasure, her moan swallowed by your lips.

The kiss was slow and deep, indulgent. Wanda welcomed the sweep of your tongue with a whine and an eager roll of her hips, needy hands trying to pull you closer yet she didn’t put any real strength into it.

It would take no effort for her to take control of the situation. That she didn’t made your heart swell, fluttering between protectiveness, love, and desire all over again.

You broke the kiss for air, propping your brow against hers. “Does mommy need my fingers inside her?”

“Yes, please, yes, malysh (baby) . Mommy needs you inside.”

“You’re so wet, is this all for me?”

Wanda bit her lip, rocking her hips in search of more. “Please, I need you,” she pleaded quietly.

You smiled, kissing her sweetly. “You’re so pretty when you beg for me, mommy.”

You didn’t let her say anything else, sinking two fingers into her pussy and scattering her thoughts to the wind, all focus falling to the delicious stretch of her walls and the grind of your palm against her clit. You could feel it pulsing against you, swollen and slick—your mouth watered.

Sinking your free hand into Wanda’s hair, you focused on the pace, listening to each and every sound she made as you pumped your fingers, curling them to hit the spot that had her twitching in your grasp.

The slap of your palm meeting her pussy left you almost breathless. You could feel wetness spreading on the inside of your thighs, your own cunt throbbing with need.

In want of a distraction, you growled and sank your teeth into Wanda’s neck, not hard enough to draw blood but definitely enough to leave a mark, and more than enough to send your girlfriend over the edge.

Clenching hard around your fingers, Wanda came with a loud, sharp moan, thighs shaking, hips jogging to ride out the waves of her orgasm by grinding her clit against your palm.

When she relaxed you gently pulled your hand free, sitting back a little so you could admire how slick it was.

You waited until her eyes fluttered open to suck your fingers clean, groaning at the taste.

Wanda wet her lips, dark eyes hooded. “You like how mommy tastes, malyshka ?” She husked, her accent thick as the translation to English became harder to remember. You couldn’t blame her, it was getting difficult for you too.

You nodded, fingers lingering at your lips. “I love how you taste, mommy,” you said, neediness creeping in. “I think I need more.”

Leaning down, you gently grasped Wanda’s chin between your thumb and index finger, meeting her in a slow, grounding kiss. “Would you like that, mommy?” You asked against her lips, tongue flicking out to tease them. “You want to cum in my mouth?”

Wanda nodded shakily and that was all you needed to slide off the couch and gently maneuver her to sit at the edge, pulling her pajama bottoms down her smooth, slender legs and tossing them aside.

You kneaded the muscles of her calves and moved up her thighs, scattering indulgent kisses across her skin that often devolved to bites and hickeys in a leisurely journey, delighting in each noise Wanda made, the way her hands sank into your hair for some semblance of stability.

She didn’t pull or try to control where you went, it was obvious she wanted to whenever her fingers tightened but then she just begged in breathless little whimpers, eyes boring into you, desperate and pleading.

You couldn’t possibly stay away for long.

At the first swipe of your tongue against her clit she jolted, head tilting back, nails digging into your scalp. You moaned at the taste of her, moving her thighs onto your shoulders and holding her hips.

The faint smell of snowdrop flowers and charcoal tinged the air as your energy seethed to the surface. It flowed out of your skin like oily smoke and rippled down your arms to coil around her waist, carefully securing her as she writhed in your grasp.

Wanda gasped at the chill of them on her overheated skin, eyes fluttering shut as wildly different sensations warred for her attention.

The tendrils snaked further, pushing her loose pajama top up just enough to expose her breasts and gently wrap around them, lazily teasing her hardened nipples.

Sinking down, you pushed your tongue as deep as it would go, your nose pressing against her clit. With her thighs around your head you could’ve sworn you could hear the blood rushing through her body. All you knew at that moment was heat and wetness, and a taste you couldn’t get enough of, savouring the way Wanda shivered and twitched with every flick of your tongue.

You could barely breathe and you didn’t care, your only goal was making her feel worshipped, as if you were dying of thirst and she were a fresh spring in the desert. You wanted Wanda to unravel and forget her own name, to trust that you had her and you weren’t letting go, that you would hold on so she didn’t have to.

English was no longer in reach but you knew the words falling from her lips in gasps and moans were full of praise, warming your gut and flooding your head with fog, leaving nothing but the desire to please.

Flattening your tongue, you eased your grip just enough to let her hips move, allowing Wanda to grind against you, her pace frantic and artless, feral. The throb of her clit on your tongue had you moaning and you dug your nails into her skin hard enough to bruise.

Wanda came with your name in her throat, low and strangled, desperate in its vulnerability. Her thighs shook, her back arched and you held her with firm, soothing touches, letting her ride it out on your tongue until she was too sensitive to continue, loose-limbed and panting.

Gently untangling yourself from her, you climbed up her body until you could straddle her lap, adjusting her top back into place, brushing loose hairs away from her brow until she caught her breath.

With a pleased groan, Wanda sat up. 

She slipped an arm around your waist and brushed her thumb against her lips, taking in what a mess you were, hair askew and face slick with her cum, all with that same silly, besotted look on your face as before.

You knew your eyes were completely black now, only the faintest pinprick of sea green light piercing the darkness. Your loss of concentration in moments like these revealed your less human aspects, the pallor of your skin, your black eyes, the fading darkness that stained your hands and feet as if your limbs were dipped in ink.

Part of you still hated to see it, but not like this, not when she looked at you with so much love and adoration, meeting your abyssal stare as if you were the most heavenly thing she ever laid eyes on.

She kissed you softly, tasting herself on your tongue. “You did so well for mommy,” she whispered, squeezing your waist. “My lovely little shadow.”

Melting at her words, your chin dipped towards your chest, suddenly shy.

Wanda smirked lazily. “I think another shower is in order but I don’t think my legs will cooperate just yet. Would you carry me, malyshka ?”

Of all the things to make you blush tonight, scooping Wanda into your arms and carrying her upstairs felt almost childish compared to everything you just did to her, but that didn’t stop you from smiling the whole way.

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

I crave a quiet love.

Watching you play video games while i lay on our bed and hyping you up. Going grocery shopping together and laughing at a bad pun in the spice aisle. Waking up in each others arms. Stopping by the others work to drop of food on our day off. Sending each other memes even though we're sitting in the same room. The soft touches whenever we pass by each other. Cuddling while watching a show on netflix. Having a cup of tee or coffee on a lazy Sunday morning and sitting, legs tangled, on our couch, being in love.

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

there, beneath

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader summary: fame hit fast for Wanda Maximoff and so did the mistakes. One night of recklessness and a single phone call shattered everything she had with you. warnings: this story contains sensitive themes including alcohol poisoning, death, and implied cheating. reader discretion is advised. word count: 7472 a/n: if you are struggling, please know you are not alone, reach out to a trusted person or a mental health professional. my dms are always open, your well-being matters <3

general masterlist

When the night has come

And the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we'll see

No, I won't be afraid

Oh, I won't be afraid

"Just as long as you stand, stand by me." 

Every breathing person's piercing eyes are situated at Wanda Maximoff. 

The lights illuminate every curve of her face, the rose-colored lights and hues of blue made its way into her face, casting a mystical light on her beautiful features and despite the dim lights of the bar, she glows splendidly. 

She looks magical underneath all the stage lights, with her fingers wrapped tightly upon the mic, her mouth forms easily as she sang the lyrics of your favorite song. You watch her closely, watch how her chest moves slowly, intakes of breaths, the bobbing of her throat, the low tunes of her voice.

Owing to the fact that while everyone is looking at her, Wanda Maximoff has her eyes set on you.

Her green eyes are settled on you as she sang the song you deeply love, the low baritone of her voice comes out breathy and feathery, her voice sways alongside the harmonious sound of the song, tunes of soft notes consolidate with her angelic tone making everything magical. 

Your heart flutters as you watch her sing, her eyes stayed on to your figure, tucked in the corner of the room, you can clearly understand what she wants to say as her voice occupies all the spaces of the dim lit room. 

When the song ended, her voice fading out of the room, Wanda quickly gets off the stage and briskly walked towards you. The corners of her mouth twitched up as she quickly jogs and wraps her arms around your figure.

You giggle, "That was the best performance ever." 

Wanda blows out the stray of hair dangling in front of her face, "That's weird, I am the only one who performed in this bar." 

You give her a sheepish smile, bumping your shoulders playful at hers, "Why? Can't I compliment my girlfriend?" 

Wanda blinks then smiles widely, she pats your waist, her arms tightening around your body, she mutters quietly, "Of course you can, baby."

Then she leans in, capturing your lips as she tries to memorize every inch of your mouth. The hands wrapped around your body easily moves towards your cheeks, caressing it tenderly, her thumbs drawing soothing movements around your skin making you sigh against her lips. 

You fisted the jacket she wore tightly, eyes closed as you taste her flavored cherry mint balm, you heard her sigh, comes next is the feeling of her nose brushing softly against yours. 

"God, I love you." she mutters, kissing your forehead as she leans back to look fully at your face.

You shy away from her stare, "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I hung the moon and stars." you uttered.

"You did hung the moon and stars for me." she casually declares, her warm hand clasp around your cold ones, intertwining your fingers with hers as she pulls you towards her.

"Come, I want you to meet someone." she gives you a reassuring smile, squeezing your hand firmly. 

Wanda easily navigates you through the crowd, stopping each time someone recognises her, saying she did a good job, words of compliments for her as you watch how her face lights up in every word a stranger shares. 

You love her, too much.

She's a woman born to be a star, born to let the world hear her angelic voice, she's destined for greatness and watching her slowly progress to a place she deserves with you made your heart thump too merrily. She had always promised to be with you in every milestone she takes and you grasp her promise tightly closed in your chest, giving all your trust to her oaths and promises because you knew Wanda would always hang onto her words especially if it's the words stated for you.

"If it isn't the star of the night!" A booming voice resonates prominently around the bar, making your eyes settle onto a man in a suit with bold tailoring, glasses placed coolly on his face. 

Just by his aura, you know he's rich, arrogant, maybe sassy. 

"Mr. Stark, pleasure to see you here." Wanda replied, her smile plastered calmly on her gorgeous face. Your figure hides behind her, trying to not let your presence be known to an intimidating man.

"I had to be here, right? Newly signed artist in my company, it is just right to see you perform in a well-known bar." the Stark man declares, his eyes flickering over yours for a second then shrugs off your presence as he settles on Wanda's figure. 

You froze on his words. Signed. Artist. Of course. But why would she never share this good news to you? didn't she promise to bring you to every milestone she had reached?

Wanda notices your stiff posture, she winces at the words. Squeezing your hand once again, she pulls you beside her, "Mr. Stark, I want you to meet Y/N, my girlfriend."

Stark's grin widens, "Oh! The inspiration to all your lovely songs, that's great. Pleasure to meet you. Keep doing your job as her girlfriend, you bring her too good music." his voice sounded practised, fake, phoney but your heart still fluttered on his words. 

You let out a tight smile, watching as Stark says his goodbye to Wanda and moves on to a blonde woman. You are left alone with Wanda in a place too crowded, their voices combined with your loud thoughts as your breathing slowly fastens as each seconds passes by. 

Mindful of your sudden change in breathing, Wanda instantly wraps her arms around your shoulders leading you out of the bar, she mutters soothing words, kisses your temple, her eyes flickering over every second all while steering you away from the crowd. 

Outside, the chilly air of the night splashes into you instantly, making you intake a breath so cold and icy. You blink under the light of the moon, aware of Wanda's silence as she lets you take in the change of surroundings. 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Wanda sighs, "I'm sorry, I didn't know he would mention it. I was supposed to say it tonight, i had dinner planned for the both of us, I also brought this promise ring to give you but now you're upset with me so I don't really know—"

"Hey, hey," your body turns instantly, gripping her hands as you kiss it gingerly, "I'm listening, no need to rush."

Wanda's eyes blazed with affection, her chest constricts painfully at your understanding eyes, thinking how did she end up with someone like you — so magnificent, deserving of all the universe. 

She nods, "Sorry, I– um– I love you,"

You smiled.

"I just– I want everything to be perfect with you, I didn't mean to keep this as a secret, Stark signed my contract yesterday and I immediately wanted to tell you this good news but then I want it to be special for you, for the both of us." Wanda's voice wavers and she deeply regrets the stumbling of her words, she wants it to be strong, firm, she doesn't want you to doubt the words she had said.

Your hand grips her cheek, she nuzzles into it immediately making the corners of your mouth turn heavenwards. "You don't have to make it special for me, it's your good news. Do it for yourself."

Her head shakes, her auburn hair weaving gorgeously along her shoulders, "No. It's for the both of us, it's for you. Every milestone with you, remember?" 

"With me?"

"Yes, with you." leaning in, Wanda takes your lips tenderly, kissing you under the moonlight as the chilly air surrounds the both of you, fighting with the warmth your chest is blossoming with. 

"Always with you, detka."

Always with her. Absolutely, you would always be with her, no questions asked, no doubts. Even if it means waking up in the early mornings of the day just to accompany her in a studio, listening to her sing the songs she had written for you, watching her record it, eyes glazing as you finally see her dreams finally come into life. 

She would always grin whenever both of your eyes meet, the glass only the barrier in between you two. You would always see her eyes closing as she let out the tunes she had made, her voice soulful with the lyrics she had delicately written. You would never get tired hearing her voice especially if it's with a song sung for you.

And as days passed by with you in the studios, the songs she needed to record slowly dwindled down to zero, and you are left to face a painful farewell for your significant other. 

"I will be calling you 24/7, even if I'm tired of all the promotions they want from me, I will make time for you," she firmly said, her eyes settling on your shiny ones as her thumbs softened the skin under your eyes. "You can come with me, detka. You know that."

"I know." 

"And yet you refused to be with me."

Your eyes snap at her green eyes swarmed with dejection and hurt. 

"I can't — I can't take a gap year in college, Wan. You know that. Even if I'll start late in college, the time spent with you in exchange for my studies would never suffice the time I want to spend with you." 

Wanda's eyes soften at your words, she musters up a smile, nuzzling her nose into yours as she kisses you slowly, "I'm sorry for asking too much."

"You are not. It just that, I want to spend time with you forever, it's just better to settle your dreams first, our dreams. And then we could be physically together." Resting your forehead into hers, you peck her lips, "I will visit you, you will visit me. Everything will be fine."

Sighing, she repeats your soothing words, "Everything will be fine."

Everything was fine. 

Wanda clutches the promise she had made with you, she had called in the time she would always promise, sending you pictures in every place she had visited in New York, making you wish you're not stuck in a small town with small dreams. Life was blissful despite the distance in between you and Wanda.

"I miss you." she declared on the other side of the line, you could hear her slow breathing and the rustle of her blankets.

"I wish you were here." you replied, eyes glazing over the night sky. 

"New York would be so much better with you here, this sucks. I miss you too much, I wish I could just snuck inside my phone and kiss you." she rambles, you could see the furrowing of her brows as her mouth forms a pout.

You chuckle, "Me too, me too."

Silence ensues, only the faint white noises of her room surround your ears. Then she suddenly mumbles, "I love you, you do know that right?"

Your heart jumps, "I know, I always know."

"Thank you for being with me, detka. I really love you."

Everything was fine.

Until it wasn't.

"Baby, hi." Wanda's voice muffled over the loud blaring of music in her background. Your face grimaces at sound, wanting it to just be your girlfriend's voice.

"Can't hear you, Wan." you replied, eyes blinking as you tried to make out the background noises.

"Sorry, I'm at a club right now. Stark wanted me to meet someone." Wanda shouts over the line, her timbre of voice swaying slightly as you hear her laugh over something.

"Having fun?" you ask quietly.

"Absolutely — Hey, I have to go. I'll call you later?" 

Later never came.

I miss you, Wan. Can I call? you asked her over the text.

Her reply came two days after. Sorry, super busy. I'll make it up to you, promise.

That too didn't come. She never tried to call, completely forgetting the promise she had made.

Her fame gradually increased as her songs were publicly released along with the demanding promotions she had faced, the frequent calls she made with you became nonexistent, the pictures with long paragraphs of her adventures turned into just pictures and then to nothing. 

I hope you're doing well, Wan. I saw the charts! Congrats! I love you : ) Call me if you have time? 

The last message you have sent remains unread.

It was a month of radio silence from her and you completely understand. You watch her life through the photographs circulating online, how she looks just like your Wanda but completely different. Her eyes are sunken, her cheekbones are more prominent now than before, her red eyes say it all. So, you understand her busy life. It was her dream to be known to the world, you let her break the only promise she had made because it's her, it is Wanda. 

This is for her, she's doing this for her dream. So, you let her break your heart. 

When she finally called, it was in a different number. Her voice was hoarse, she was crying, weeping, her hiccups swallowed the words she's trying to say. You tried to comprehend her blurry words, your chest constricting painfully at the sound of her sobs.

It has been months since you had heard from her and when you finally heard her, it was painful.

"I'm sorry, please. F–forgive me, baby, please." she hiccups, then her sobs resonate in your ears, making you close your eyes tightly.

"What happened, Wan. I'm here, tell me what's wrong." your voice was soft, calming a raging wave of sadness from your partner.

"I'm sorry, please forgive me." she pleaded again and again. You let her say it a thousand times, asking for forgiveness for something you had not thought of, maybe it was the radio silence of hers. But you have forgiven her the minute it happened. 

You let her repeat the words of forgiveness, letting her take out all the emotions she had bottled. Oblivious to what is coming next.

"I was drunk." she finally says.

Your heart dropped.

"I was intoxicated," a hiccup comes next, her breathings are swallowed and heavy, "I woke up with someone and—"

"Stop, can you please stop." You pleaded.

A minute ago she was the one pleading, begging. Now, you were the one telling her to stop. Begging her to take back what she had just spurted out. 

"No– no, you have to listen–"

"Fuck you, you left me alone, Wanda. With no calls and texts and now you're calling me crying because you fucking fucked with someone when I'm miles away?" your voice glowered heavily, "Fuck you."

"Baby, it was a mistake. I was drunk, she was a mistake, she is a mistake. I was not thinking, I was not–"

"You are my fucking mistake." you let your words settle heavily on your phone, the angry timbres of your tone sounds dangerous and then it just sounds pathetic and sad. 

You had let her break your heart again but this time much more painful. 

Pain was an understatement of what you are feeling. Is there a word worse than pain? If so, that's what you are right now. 

You ignored her calls, her texts, the packages she had sent. Your living room fills up with different sizes of boxes from her, you ignored it, donating it to the ones who would benefit from it. How could she just kiss another woman, much more make love to another? 

Are you not enough?

Maybe distance plays a role in this too. Of course, she would feel lonely. You never visited her and when she asked to visit, you would always decline due to conflicting schedules. It was like fate mocking you, screaming at you that this has not been working for months. You are just turning a blind eye to it.

Maybe you were at fault too.

If you had just been enough for her, she wouldn't do this. She wouldn't find another woman, she wouldn't even think of doing this. Drunk or not, it was still painful. She still did it, she had asked forgiveness through a fucking phone call. 

Was that what you deserve?

Being cheated on and then getting her apologies from a call?

Wanda knew you deserve more than a phone call, she booked a flight, a week after you had ignored her. She had given you time, time to grieve, time to think. And in those times, Wanda was scared and fright engulfs her whole being at letting you be alone with your thoughts, with no clear explanation from her.

She knew it was unfair to ask for a chance to speak her side. Nothing really happened, she didn't remember anything. But that was not enough, was it? She had given you damage, too big of a damage to hope for things to be better.

A knock comes at your door, it was faint, hesitant. The warm early lights of the sun trickle heavily on your open windows, cascading a balmy air into your apartment. 

Despite the balmy weather of the day, you can't help but feel a chill run down your spine as your eyes settle onto a familiar green eyes. Wanda stood outside your door, flowers in hand, her eyes were red and puffy, the mascara she had worn was smudged and there's a tight smile plastered around her face.

"Y/N, can I please—" Before she could finish whatever words she had practiced, your hand works fast as it tries to shut your door in her face but significantly fails as Wanda manages to get a hold of it.  "Y/N, please."

"What do you want, Wanda?" you asks, your voice wavering slightly at the sight of her pleading eyes. 

"I want to explain."

"Do I even need an explanation, Wanda? You cheated, what's there to explain?"

Stumbling to catch her fleeing words, Wanda sputtered aimlessly as she tries to explain, "That's the thing, I didn't cheat. I swear, nothing happ–" 

"Nothing happened and yet you called sobbing. What? Are you trying to be an actress now, is being a popstar not enough for you?" the harshness of your voice cuts deep into Wanda's scarred heart, her face falling as she glazes with dejection and regret. 

"That's not it," she whispers, you see the tight clutching of her fist. "I– we were celebrating at a club. Tony got drunk so Happy needed to take him home. I was left alone and this–this woman kept on making me drink and I can't refuse because she–she, Tony said I needed to be on her good side."

Your jaw ticked, "You're using your body now in exchange for fame?"

Surprise dawns on Wanda's fatigued face, she blinks, registering the words you have just said and then sadness looms over her features.

"Y/N, I wouldn't —"

"Go home, Wanda. Take some microphone and sing your heart out, that's what you're good at, right?" 

Silence ensues, "That's not fair." she mutters.

"What is not fair?" At this point you're just tired of hearing her voice, tired of trying to comprehend what went wrong and why did this have to happen.

"You can't just throw our relationship away just like that—"

"Are you kidding me?" your voice raises. "You're the one who threw our relationship away, Wanda. You're the one who cheat–"

"I didn't cheat, we just slept together in one bed. Y/N, baby, pl–"

"Get out. I don't want to hear any of it," you fired back, tight and leaden. "I don't want to see you, get out."

Wanda stumbles on her feet as you harshly pushes her back, her hands manage to swiftly wrap your wrist tightly, pulling you close to her, arms snaking around your body. You thrash from her tight grip, trying to unlatched her arms chained into your whole being, unwilling to let go. 

You felt her shoulders shake as her sobs ring out your surroundings, your arms fell slack hearing her cries as she tightens her hold on you, "Please, please. I didn't do it. You have to believe me." 

Sympathy blooms in your chest despite the betrayal she had made, hearing Wanda cry always has a strong grip on your heart. It's like putting alcohol in a gaping wound, it breaks your heart to hear her plead endlessly even though it's something out of hurting you. 

"Okay, okay. I'll believe you, you have to let me go." your voice is quiet, the edge of it wavering slightly.

"No. No, I won't."

"You have to let me go." your voice wavers, hands fisted on your sides as you feel her hands on your head. Caressing it gently, her lips on your temple as she whispers her love and devotion to you. 

"Do you believe me?" Her voice was whisper-like, strained.

"I do believe you," you stated, feeling the slow untangling of her arms. You quickly move back, watching her wipe her tears as she gazes over you, the shaking of her hands making its way into your sights, you darted your eyes away. "I believe you. You didn't cheat, okay. I forgive you but whatever we have is over—"

"No, that's not–"

"It's over." your voice hardens, staring directly at Wanda's green eyes. Her face fell, contorting into regret and confusion. You step back, hands gripping into your door as you watch her, blinking away the tears, you turn your back and slam the door shut.

Signifying the end of yours and Wanda's story.

It was not easy. Moving on from a relationship you had thought that would last longer, you watch her on the television. Her life is moving forward while yours seems to be stuck in a loop. 

That's not fair. 

Everything is not fair.

"You have to get out of your room, Y/N. You've been here lurking, when was the last time you had seen the sun?" Carol's voice echoes throughout your room, you shrug her off. 

Bottles of alcohols spreads throughout your room, a clear reminder of how you cope.

Closing your eyes shut as you fade out the voices in your head and the lingering sound of your television, you body felt the coldness of your surroundings.

"Hey!" you scream, eyes furrowing as Carol raises her eyebrows at you, holding your blanket tightly away from your body. "Give it back, Carol."

"Stop being pathetic and get your shit together. Wanda cheated on you and she's out there partying her life out in every tabloids while you're here rotting. Do better." she snaps, glaring at you.

"I'm trying." your voice is low and quiet.

"Well, try harder. Do it for yourself, jesus." Carol moves away, her soft footsteps reaches out into your ears as you dart your eyes away.

"Wanda Maximoff, the rising popstar, has been—" 

"I'm gonna throw your television away, I swear to god." Carol groans, reaching towards your television to shut it off.

You quickly get off your bed, stumbling hard as you yell, "Stop, stop. Wait—"

"..hospitalized just this morning. Her management has not yet given any updates but has confirmed the critical condition of the singer." 

Everything seems to stop, Carol's breathing seems to be louder now and more prominent. Your eyes searches for Carol's wide ones, seeking balance in a world crumbling so fast. The blonde woman curses under her breath as she jogs towards you, panic rising as she sees how your breathing stumbles painfully, hands wrapping around your shoulders, "Breathe, she's fine. She's okay, Y/N."

"No, she's— something happened. I have to be there."

"You can't, stay here. You are no longer in her life—" you yank your figure away from her, figure frantic as you throw clothes after clothes in a bag. "—stop, what the fuck are you doing?" 

"I'm gonna go, Carol. I–I have to. Wanda, I have to–" Carol clutches your shoulders tightly, her face etched with worry.

She mutters, "Okay, okay. We are gonna go but I want you to calm down first. Breath, darling, please." 

"Please." You begged the nurse, "I'm her girlfriend, I have to see her." 

Jetlags don't exist when all you could think about is Wanda. Pictures of her spreading around the internet, news of the sudden downfall of the rising singer. Begging at the nurse to let you visit Wanda was the very first thing you did upon arriving at New York. 

The nurse gave you a tight shake of her head, "I'm sorry, miss. We have been getting different people claiming they're family, it's just for security measures." 

"But I am her family, I can show you pictures," you hands quickly searches inside your pouch, hands flailing everywhere as you search for a specific polaroid picture, "I— I have pictures, sorry. I have many in my phone, look—"

"Y/N?"

Whipping your head around, your chest heaves out a sigh at the sight of Tony Stark, "Tony, is she okay?" 

Tony manages to flick his eyes over the nurse to give a nod of approval, his ears bombarded by your desperate voice as you asks many questions in a quick span of minutes, "Calm down, she's stable now."

"What happened?" you asks quietly.

"Alcohol poisoning. She has been drinking all the time." Then his eyes hardens at you, "It's you, right? The reason for her constant drinking."

Your feet stumbles back, "We broke up."

"Clearly, she stopped writing songs." Tony tilts his head, tongue clicking inside of his cheek, "Fix this, Y/N. I invested everything for an unknown girl in a small town. Don't waste my efforts and her efforts to achieve the dream she wanted just because you can't suck up a simple fight."

"It's not a simple fight, Stark. She–"

"Doesn't matter. If you love her, fix this. She's throwing her whole life away because of you. Get your conscience working and fix this."

Fixing. You're good at fixing things that have been broken by others. That's your specialty, to disregard your needs and settle to fix the needs of others. This should be easy, right? To forget she cheated in exchange for her to stop harming herself. It would do you good, to fix her, to fix things, to fix everything but your broken heart.

Caressing her cold hands as your mind drifts off to her actions, her betrayal, restraining yourself to wince or even possibly shudder at tenderly touching her hands, your eyes scans her tranquil face. Eyes deeply shut, the rising and falling of her chest gave you the relief you never knew you needed. Despite the disgust looming at the corners of your chest, she is still the woman you have deeply fell in love with.

Wanda stirs, the beeping of the monitor reaches into your ears as you watch her carefully. Her eyelashes fluttering, green eyes staring right back at you. 

You let her ingest the image you projected, surprise settling on her face as she tries to sit up but winces at the sudden pang of ache on her head. 

"Lay still, you need to rest." your cold voice echoes at her empty hospital room.

"Why–" Wanda gulps, staring at you deeply, her eyes eyeing down the grip you have on her hands, a tinge of pink spreads at her face. "Y/N, why?"

"You poisoned yourself. What were you thinking? You'd think I'll forgive you if you die? Never, Wanda. Keep that in mind."

Your words hurt but it soothes her to see you with her, holding her hands like you're afraid she'll vanish into thin air. Let it be selfishness to feel happy you're concerned despite the betrayal she had done but she would gladly grasp that selfishness if it means to be with you again.

"I'm sorry." her voice came out hoarse, it scratched in her throat painfully.

You nod at her, standing up as you lean down, collecting your things. Wanda sits up swiftly, ignoring the throbbing pain of her head, panicking at your actions of fleeing.

"Y/N, wait." she uttered, holding your wrist tightly. 

"I need to go home." you replied.

"Can you please stay?" Wanda pleaded, her eyes on the verge of tears as she tightened her hold on you.

"Why?"

"Let's talk, please."

You sigh, "There's nothing to talk about."

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I can call Val right now, she could tell you nothing happened between us. She just let me sleep in her room, nothing really happened. I was just so scared when I called you, I had to tell you. I can't do anything without you, Y/N. Please."

You dart your eyes away, unable to look at her broken face, "You said she was a mistake. You're lying, I just know it."

"She was, I was not supposed to sleep in the same—"

"Wanda, you can't pull shit like this. You can't cheat and then poison yourself. It's unfair to me. I still love you and you knew I would come running back to you if you got yourself harmed." your chest heaves out. Wanda's heart sinks as she lets herself drown with your words. She can't think of any excuses to let you stay with her, she's running out of ideas and it's making the panic inside her rise. 

"Then run back to me. I'll be better, I'll do better. I love you." she begs, her face leaning in your chest as she wraps her arms around you, pulling you closer to her.

Your arms lay slack beside you, "You should've thought of that before touching others. Let go of me."

"Please, don't make me do this."

Your chest staggers, "Do what?"

"Be with me then I'll stop drinking."

Your face fell. She can't possibly say this, right? 

"Fuck you." your voice hardens, yanking your figure away as you glowered at her. "Fuck you."

"You… are you okay?" Carol greets you, taking your pouch out of your hand as she leads you swiftly into the couch. Her eyes scans your tear-stained face, the quivering of your lips makes her want to rip out the one who caused you this much pain. 

"Y/N, talk to me. Did something happen?" she asked once again, kneeling in front of you as she grabbed your hands laying steadily on your lap. 

"She — Wanda, maybe it was a mistake, Car." you started, eyes welling up. 

Carol leans back, anger pooling down her face.

"Mistake? Do you think cheaters make mistakes?" she snaps. "What did she say, Y/N?"

"Nothing." you quickly answered, eyes flickering away as your hands shook lightly. 

Carol's face darkens, standing straight up, she asked in a dangerous tone, "What hospital is she in, again?"

You gaped at her, eyes wide as you clenched her wrist tightly, "No, she— she said she'll stop drinking if I take her back."

Carol's mouth sets in a hard line, a muscle in her jaw twitches as she tries to calm down the leaden feeling of anger bubbling in her chest. "She's threatening you? What the fuck is wrong with her."

"Maybe, maybe, it was a mistake. She told me they just slept in the same bed."

"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Carol scowled, "Do you really believe her? She just threatened you, Y/N. Wake the fuck up. Pack your things, we're going back home." 

When silence ensues, Carol whips her head to look right back at your unmoving state. Frozen, time stopping as you watch unmovingly in a wall settled in front of you, no sign of following Carol's actions. 

The blonde woman's jaw went slack, "Are you serious? you're running back to her? Y/N, are you serious?"

"I had to, she– She'll drink again, she will do it, Carol."

"Then let her do it. Let her ruin the life she have, let her fucking do it." Carol took a step, grabbing your hand, forcing you to come with her but your body remains unmoved, unpaced. 

"Y/N, why would you… why?" Carol resigns, her eyebrows furrowing so deep. 

"I'd rather have her than nothing at all." you uttered quietly.

Quiet surrounds Wanda's hospital room, its white walls and cold temperature didn't help the loneliness she had felt, it runs deep in her veins along with it are guilt and regret. She hadn't meant to say those words to you, watching the downfall of your face, the crestfallen expression you have given her were enough in wanting to take back the words she had muttered. 

She didn't mean any of it, the desire to have you, to be able to be with you, was just too heavy for her to handle. She just wants you back, the weight of it latches into her being driving her to say those words, to make up anything to make you stay.

She hadn't meant to be this… bad. 

She just wants you, she will do anything to have you back. She'll villainize herself if she had to.

"You're up early." Wanda looks up to stare at Natasha's half-smile. 

"Yeah, can't sleep." she replied, sighing as her mind drifted back to you. "Nat, have you– have you contacted Val?"

The redheaded woman sat beside Wanda's bed, her expression solemn as she shook her head, "Got blocked. She's pissed at you, by the way. Good thing she signed the contract that night so she really can't back out now." 

Natasha has been Wanda's right-hand woman, trusted by Tony, a loyal worker at his company for so long, it's not gonna be a surprise if months from now she's gonna take a much higher position in the company but that would be up to Wanda's popularity. If Wanda succeeded, Natasha would be too.

Then Natasha gazes at her, eyes curious, "Why do you even need to contact her?"

Guessing Wanda's expression was not hard for the redhead in fact it was so easy that her eyes widened at the thought, "You have a girlfriend, you're guilty."

She continues on, "You fucked Val? Is that why she's pissed? I thought you just ran your mouth dirty at her. What the hell, Maximoff."

Wanda groans, "We did not do that. I did not remember anything at all."

"Doesn't mean nothing happened. She's pissed, you two clearly did something." Natasha then leans her back, her eyebrows scrunched up, "You cheated with your girlfriend. The media would eat this up, cheating scandal always outrages the public. Who's the girlfriend so I could contact her, asap."

Wanda's head throbs at Natasha's reverberating voice, "She's from my hometown."

Wanda could see how the redhead visibly relaxes at her words, "Oh, thank god. So, she's a nobody."

"She's not—"

The knock cuts deep into Wanda's blossoming tensed energy, her eyes lingers on the door as Natasha walks up and greets the woman outside Wanda's room. 

Green eyes stare at yours, blown and wide, you awkwardly stare at the redhead before you. Doubt claws its way out of your chest as insecurities dangle within it. Natasha, ever the bright woman, notices the shift of atmosphere, she excused herself, leaving you and a green eyed woman alone.

Wanda wants to run towards you, to meet you halfway, to fall in her knees and beg but she remains unmoved, her eyes following the hesitant steps you took towards her. Then, her eyes settled on your face, guilt engulfed her, seeing your eyebags prominent, no lightness casted upon your features, it was just dark and sad. 

"Y/N, I'm sorry." she started, voice whisper-like. "I didn't mean to say those words."

"What are you trying to do, Wanda?" you asks.

There was no exasperation evident on your voice, no tiredness, no sharp edges, it was just a genuine question for her to answer.

"I–"

"What are you trying to do?" you asked once again. 

Wanda lets out a shaky breath, her eyes welling up with tears, "I just want you back."

"Okay."

Wanda whips her head up, pupils dilated as her chest thumps wildly, "Okay?"

"You'll have me back," you declare, voice hardened, eyes piercing right at Wanda's. "You'll have me back after a year."

"Baby, I can't do that."

"I don't care. Do it. I want to see your songs doing well, I want you to continue writing, to stop drinking, to be better. I will forget what you had done if you'll do this."

A year. It's too long for Wanda, she'll be back again chugging drinks after drinks just by missing you. She can't do this, months without you was enough for her to be hospitalized what more for a year? 

Will she be dead by then?

"Your wants will not be followed here, Wanda. You betrayed me, you can't possibly think I'll take you back just like that?" you uttered, the look on Wanda's face made your heart sink, it's doubt, hesitation. "You have my word. We will be together after a year, I just don't want to lose you."

"Is that a promise? Only a year and then we'll be together, here?" Wanda finally muttered, she reaches out for your hand, caressing it softly.

You nod, "Every milestone with me, right?" 

Wanda's chest staggers, her heart beating wildly as she nods quickly, pulling you close, her arms wrapping instantly around your body. 

You remain slack, of course she wouldn't notice the bitterness in your words.

Anything could happen within a year and Wanda achieved all of it quickly. Sweeping awards everywhere, charts all on top, her songs coming in like a big wave crashing through the crowds. 

Her only motivation was you. 

It was torture, no contact from you, the only thing she's holding on was your words, your promise to be with her. She remembers it clearly, the conversation in the hospital, the joy she felt after finally having the assurance of being with you. 

"We'll meet at the bar, the one where you sang my favourite song. Do you remember?" Wanda remembers clearly that bar, the song, the notes of it, everything. So, she nodded, leaning in as she kisses your cheeks, sighing at the contact.

That was the last of it, the last of your words before you flew back to North Carolina, leaving her alone, her heart clenching on your promise. She never touched another drink again, never took a sip of it, even looked at it. She avoided it all, focused on becoming better for you. She behaved, became the most beautiful version of herself, just because of you. 

The weight of the guitar hanging low on her body snapped her out of the trance, she eyed the crowd in front of her, a faint smile playing in her mouth as she grabs the mic and lean towards it.

"This song is a favorite of the most important person in my life. She loved this so much that she would beg me to sing it every single time and I never got tired of it." she started on, her eyes shining with tears as the longing for your being starts to pool down her chest. "This song has been engraved rightfully in my heart and soul."

Then her eyes settled in front, "I love you, you know that, right?"

And then tunes of melodies surrounds the place.

When the night has come

And the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we'll see

No, I won't be afraid

Oh, I won't be afraid

"Just as long as you stand, stand by me."

Wanda's voice trembled with the words slipping out from her lips, quiet and uncertain. Her eyes remained pinned on the crowd before her, shining stage lights dulled low for once—nearly like they understood this wasn't a show, not exactly. The guitar lay against her, her fingertips touching the strings with more trepidation than sound.

Her fingertips trembles under the strings of her guitar, the longing, the heartbreak, the painful thrumming of her chest reverbates throughout her whole being, just as she was about to continue singing, a painful sob broke out of her. 

Wanda takes a deep breath, her eyes settled onto the crowds in front of her, her voice trembling as she once again continued forming her mouth to let out melodious tunes of the song, of your favorite song. 

She dared not glance to her left.

She couldn't.

If she did, the dam would break.

The heaviness in her chest had been building for weeks, crushing and relentless, but she pushed on. She owed it to you, to the promises she'd promised and broke and the ones she never got the chance to keep.

Her fingers stuttered along the frets. She drew a quick breath, straining to force past the constriction in her throat, to continue the melody. But it wasn't a song anymore, it was a memory of stolen nights, whispered words, your voice humming the chorus against her skin.

The first tear escaped before she realized it.

Wanda still didn't glance to her left.

She attempted to play again, but her hands were shaking too hard now, each chord becoming brittle under her fingers. Then, finally, her eyes betrayed her, pulled, like gravity, to the center of the room.

To the white flowers.

To the candlelit photo frame.

And only then, softly, like a last note in a dying song, the truth came home, you weren't in the crowd at all.

Sadness clouded in Wanda's features. She sets her eyes out for the crowds, never at you, never at the open casket settled in the middle of the premises.

Anything could happen.

Anything.

Anything means breaking the promise you had forged in her heart.

She should've been the one to promise you not to drink, it must be her karma. Fate must be laughing at her right now.

Minutes from now you're gonna be there, beneath her, beneath in the ground, away from her, out of reach from her.

It was in the tenth month, october. A single phonecall was enough to crumble Wanda's world.

"She's gone." It was Carol's voice that greeted her.

Confused, Wanda asks, "Y/N? Is she going somewhere?"

"She's dead, Wanda." 

She could clearly remember the painful blaring of her ears, the ringing of it as her mind stops midway, her heart beating out fast and painful. She remembers not breathing fine and then muffling Carol's voice. 

"She must've gotten the idea from you." Carol's voice reverberates throughout Wanda's ringing ears. 

"She must've thought she could understand the thing you have done if she had done it herself." 

Wanda stepped back, clutching the phone so hard it was going to shatter in her fingers. Her legs buckled beneath her, but she braced herself on the kitchen counter's edge, a harsh breath rippling between her lips like a shattered sob.

"No," she whispered, the sound shuddering out of her lips as if it could reverse reality. "No, she—she wouldn't—”

"She did," Carol broke in, her tone harsh, thick with controlled anger. "She stepped into the line of fire, Wanda. Just vanished, just like you did once."

Wanda's eyes flashed, the burden behind them tugging at tears she could not yet let free. Everything seemed distant like she had been yanked underwater and everyone else stayed behind at the surface. She felt her lungs filled with water, every breath she took felt like a fire, burning, sizzling in every corner of her chest.

“She told me," Carol went on, voice shattering under the pressure of unexpressed sorrow, "—that if she could see your pain, perhaps she'd know why you left, why you cheated, why you broke her."

Wanda's breath hitched like something like a glass is stuck in her throat.

"I didn't mean to," she murmured, barely childlike. "I am better, if she— if— I’m sorry."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, again and again.

It was pathetic, really. Fragile. Helpless against the snowbank of quiet that lay in wait for her. But it was all she could do. Two words, quivering on her lips like a surrender flag held far too late.

Because what else was she supposed to say?

I loved you but broke you.

I was better, but not in time.

I thought there would be time.

But none of that mattered anymore.

So she said it again, quieter this time like if she spoke it gently enough, maybe it would travel across the wind, down through the earth, and reach whatever corner of the universe you now called home.

“I’m sorry.”

Because that was all that was left of her now—regret in a red coat, a voice without a stage, a promise she kept too late.

And even if the stars wouldn't reply, even if the grave wouldn't answer, she would still say it.

Until only a memory was left of her voice.

general masterlist

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ELIZABETH OLSEN as Mia Grey The Assessment ✧ dir. Fleur Fortuné — 2025

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

stalker!wanda maximoff x governor!reader

but but make wanda have a fling she fucks here & there when she can’t get her hands on the governor & have her be cold when/ any time she’s around the gov, and could she be a femme ? If not it’s ok:)!!! I love ur writing so much

Rumor Has It

Pairings: intersex!Wanda Maximoff x governor!reader

Word count: 1080

Warnings: smut, Wanda is established as a stalker but there’s no stalking (I apologize), breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, fluff, some angst, mentions of cheating (not really cheating tho), arguing, jealousy, obsessed!wanda, daddy kink, intersex!wanda

Wanda groaned as the pounding on her door continued, her feet quickening in speed to open it. She was met with the sight of an angry you. She raised a brow.

“Uh, you need something?” You pushed past her, storming into the house and ignoring how your boots left rain-padded footprints on the floor. You turned to face her, a scowl marking your expression as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, I do, actually. Who the fuck is Lindy?” Wanda looked at you in confusion before realizing who it was you were speaking of, making you scoff.

“Oh, Lindy! Yeah, her…what about her?” Your eyes were wide, as if she had just asked the most unreal question, and to you, she did.

“What about her?! I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re fucking her behind my back! You didn’t think to tell me about that?!” She chuckles, taking a step closer and putting her hands on your arms, making you quickly push them off to which she rolled her eyes at your dramatics.

“Okay, relax, you’re pissing me off. Lindy is just a fuck buddy, I don’t give a shit about her. I didn’t even remember who she was!”

“It doesn’t matter! You still shouldn’t be sleeping with someone else when you’re with me-“

“Woah, woah, woah, I’m not with you, Y/N. You’re the one who said it, you don’t do the whole dating thing.” Your mouth opened and closed again, your voice box suddenly being unequipped and your throat feeling dry.

“Well- you don’t do the whole dating thing either!”

“No, no, I said I’d date you and only you. I don’t date anyone else, I don’t give two shits about anyone else other than you and I’m real fucking tired of you acting like I do, you got me? Lindy-“

“Stop talking about her, please…” Wanda slowly formed a grin, her hand falling to your hip as she pulled you in closer. She glanced down at your lips, knowing you were staring at hers, but she didn’t lean in. Her warm, soft breath fell on your face.

“Lindy is just some girl I screw when I’m bored, when you’re in your conference meetings, or when you like to deny how much you want me. She asked me on a date before, you know what I said? I said no, Y/N. You know why? Because you’re mine, and I’m yours. Whether you want to date me or not, I can’t get enough of you and this fucking body of yours…” She groaned out, swallowing thickly as your breath slowly began to quicken in pace the more she spoke. You glanced down in shame and in desire, but her hand on your chin redirected you quickly.

“She has a stupid name anyway.” You scoffed, and Wanda formed a smirk and a chuckle, shaking her head yet she agreed. She agreed with anything you said.

“But, uhm…I- I’m sorry. For, you know…not, uh, being good with feelings, I guess.” You struggled to get out, and the brunette's sly look only made it worse.

“Yeah, you better be sorry, baby, you put me through so much these past few months…why don’t you formally apologize?”

—

Your loud moans filled the room as her cock thrusted deep inside of you, her balls slapping against your ass, a groan escaping her with each breath. The bed frame was slapping against the wall, your hair in a tight ponytail held by her hand.

“You like that, hm? This all you came here for, you dirty slut?” She chuckled, pulling your face back and leaning forward so her lips were near your ear. “That look on your face when you realized you weren’t the only needy pussy I fucked, oh, it was hysterical.” She slapped your ass, making you whine out and grip the bed sheets tighter.

“Don’t you worry, baby, yours will always be my favorite.” She moaned at the end of her sentence, your warm walls trapping her inside as your jaw fell slack, your eyes squeezing shut. She had reached it before plenty of times, yet it never failed to amaze you when she hit your G-spot.

“D-don’t stop! Please don’t stop, Daddy!” A sly smirk fell on her face at the name, and if it wasn’t for the coil building further and further inside of her she would’ve kept you on edge for as long as she could. But instead, her pace somehow grew quicker, and your desperation enhanced.

“You’re Daddy’s only cock-whore, no one will ever fucking compare to you. No one. Fuck, I need you so bad.” You nodded quickly, tears brimming your eyes at the immense satisfaction.

“I- I’m gonna cum! Please- I wanna cum for you, Daddy,” You meekly begged, feeling her lips on your neck. “A-and I want you to cum inside me. I wan’ everyone to know I-I’m your slut, and I want that bitch to know you’re mine.” Her kisses paused, her eyes looking into yours to see if you were lying, but there was a genuine look in them.

“Yeah? You’re gonna let Daddy fill you to the brim with her cum? Oh, you’ll be the prettiest Mommy for me, Princess…” It didn’t take long for the two of you to release at the same time, coordinated by the woman on top of you. She smiled to herself, realizing she had finally got what she wanted. The next morning you were still in her bed, a rare occasion. And she quickly grabbed her phone to text Lindy, ‘Don’t come by, this is over.’ Without explanation. She didn’t feel bad for blocking her and deleting her contact, she only felt instant relief at what she had now.

The months on you still had your conferences, meetings, and so forth, everything Wanda didn’t understand but still supported. She was finally invited, sitting front row as she cheered whenever your section ended. She’d give you a warm smile to look upon, and it only grew the more she noticed your evolving bump. Eventually, the rumors would come out, and you were seen walking with the woman on multiple occasions. Some were you two holding hands as you ventured to a destination, in one you two even wore matching sundresses from her selection. People were shocked to see you with a woman, and even more so seeing the obvious pregnancy belly you wore with pride. But Wanda couldn’t be happier, and neither could you.

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

Gentle Hands Part Four

Ilsa Faust x Fem!Reader

Summary: The mundane has overtaken the life you once knew. Have things changed for the better?

Warnings: Emetophobia warning- R vomits, mentions of nausea/vomiting

A/N: ... Long time no see. I hope this olive branch meets your needs! I plan to open my inbox in the near future, (YIPPEE!), more series updates coming soon!

Word Count: 3.3k

She groans in the morning, her hair falling over her shoulders like a pelt, a living part of an animal with pearly teeth and brush sculpted features. Her hands dig into your thighs, first unconsciously, and then a little harder as she wakes. Ilsa’s breathing is distinctly feminine, much softer than her blunt nails that tend to leave marks in your flesh to match her desperation. It’s been almost six months since the imprisonment began, since you watched the last bits of your autonomy fall away at the hand of this angel-faced machevellian, this elfin maiden with brutality built into her every action. But on this morning she’s much softer, her nails receding, pulling away from your flesh not unlike the claws of a cat receding into their paw. Ilsa nuzzles, presses soft kisses to your neck where dark bruises were forming.

You’d caved, done the one thing you’d promised never to do after the first intimate encounter. And then the second, the third, and so on until you knew that this particular promise rang hollow like the rest. Her kisses were fire, her tongue the water that cooled them. It had been just as sexually fulfilling as every other, you couldn’t resist the way she touched your body. Guilt followed, like it always did. Freedom was a point in the distance, a benchmark that moved further and further away the more you gave in; allowed her to maintain her control. So when she started kissing your throat, her hand creeping down to stroke over your pubic bone, you tensed like always.

“Don’t.” Ilsa whispered, sounding more pleading than demanding. 

It gave you pause, hearing just how sad she sounded, genuinely exhausted with the dance you two played after every bi-monthly encounter with each other’s bodies. So you took a breath in, opening your mouth to argue. What came out was a weak squeak, a warble that sounded too indecisive to be a cough or a wheeze.

“We don’t have to go again.” Ilsa continued, that wandering hand cupping your hip instead. “... I just want more time holding you. I never get all that I want.”

Never got all that she wanted. You didn’t laugh at it, the irony of her words had lost all comedic light for some time. Ilsa was never satisfied, always whiling somewhere around the house, finding ways to improve the routine that had become your hell; her purgatory.

“Ilsa, I want to call my Mom.” you said, tapping her shoulder mindlessly, feeling all too fragile in the moment.

Ilsa didn’t respond for a moment, choosing to nuzzle into your neck, her mouth half open, like she was trying to taste you and smell you all at once. It felt like she was trying to devour you, sizing you up to devour your flesh like she’d devoured your time, energy and hesitant affection.

“... You can call her whenever, I told you that you have access to your phone whenever you’d like.” Ilsa replied, trying to be placating, the ‘good cop.’

“No, I want to call her unsupervised. My access to my phone is always supervised, you’ve completely revoked any true autonomy I have.” you said, more hollow than argumentative.

A low growl came from Ilsa’s throat, one you knew not to fear. Silence was the indicator of Ilsa’s rage. If she was still voicing her frustrations in one way or another, she could be reasoned with. 

“Don’t say that awful word. I monitor you for your safety, nothing more.” she replied, sing song.

Again her nails dug into your thighs, a pain so normal that you were sick of it, willing to indulge her in intimate touch if she would simply stop. Your hands slid up her neck, beginning to stroke at her tense muscles, coaxing her anger down, bringing out the soft purr that seemed to vibrate from her whenever she was pleased.

“You know I’m too tired of fighting to tell her anything silly.” you murmured, scratching her scalp now.

Maybe it was the dullness of your tone, or the fact that you’d skipped the usual cleansing cold-shoulder routine you pulled after sex, but Ilsa seemed to relax, to believe. 

“... Alright princess.” she murmured, using the one nickname that still felt genuine. “One call. If I listen back and hear anything amiss there will be consequences.” she cooed, entirely too patronizing.

The muscles of your throat spasmed, tightening up as bile crept up your throat. You felt suddenly very sick, very certain that you were trapped forever in Ilsa’s grasp. The anxiety hadn’t come from nowhere, it was the air. You’d woken up fighting nausea. She must’ve heard the pained grunt you let out, or noticed that sallow hue to your skin because she was just as quickly sitting up, pulling you until your head was between your knees.

“It must’ve been the Chablis.” Ilsa murmured, blaming the alcohol instead of herself, like she usually did. “We should cut it out of your diet.”

The thought of diet restrictions only made that anxiety worse, your nausea doubling. The control she had, the way she continuously hooked her fingers into all aspects of your being was sickening, more than any wine or food.

“No! Please.” you whimpered, trying to move, to slip out of the bed and make it to the toilet.

Ilsa was faster, capitalizing on your vulnerability to guide you to the bathroom, hands under your arms that you didn’t need, hands pulling your hair back that you didn’t want; didn’t ask for. You vomited, emptying everything out of your stomach, tears slipping down your cheeks in sobs. It was therapeutic in a way, the emptying of your body, the relief that came when it was over. Ilsa was there, gently pulling you back, rocking you in her arms as she cooed softly. 

“It’s alright, we moved too fast for morning, I know, I know.” she murmured, kissing the bridge of your nose with suffocating tenderness.

Vulnerability had clawed an open cavern inside of you, aching for any sort of affection, any sort of love. You were clay in her hands, lying soft, limp. You shut your eyes so you didn’t have to look at her, to meet crystal blue eyes and know she saw you for the mess she’d made you. But no judgement came, just the soft wipe of a moist towelette, the smell of baby powder and cleansing balm. 

“What do you want for breakfast, princess?” Ilsa murmured, speaking into the crown of your hair.

“… Pancakes.” 

<->

Something seemed off about you. Ilsa had noticed it early on, the way you seemed so apathetic towards her morning advances. The breakdown had made sense, she’d overwhelmed you, pushed her luck too far. But the vomiting was extreme, a sign of psychological distress Ilsa didn’t like. She resolved to be delicate, sensitive to your needs, the needs of a girl too brittle for much more poking.

For the last few months Ilsa had been looking into therapeutic techniques to help those adjusting to stressful environments. Routine was a huge factor for comfort, reliability of conditions and health both played a role. So Ilsa started with minimal talking in the mornings, let you get up and brush your teeth, wash your face, even put on music.

Doomscrolling was a no. Excessive gaming, reading, engaging in social media… Ilsa had put restrictions on those from the get go. You’d benefited from the routine initially, growing physically fit, continuously engaging in home improvement and even spending quality time with Ilsa, and the monitored calls with friends and family.

The past month? A plateau. 

This breakdown seemed to be rock bottom, one Ilsa was almost sure she didn’t have the expertise to navigate. She cooked the pancakes one handed, the other wrapped around your back. For whatever reason you hadn’t let go of Ilsa since the bathroom, another alarming change. 

The closeness was nice, but the abrupt shift in behavior felt… Troublesome. 

“Blueberries in your pancakes?” Ilsa asked, hoping to dispel her own anxiety with the mundane.

“… Yes.” you decided after a moment, decision fatigued.

Ilsa hummed once, sneaking a few kisses in between pancake flips, hoping to stir any reaction out of you, even disdain. Your eyes remained listless, your face entirely too blank. She set the cooked pancakes to the side, cupping your face in her hands.

“… (Reader).” *she said, using your name.

You seemed to see her now, and the exhaustion in your eyes was clear.

“Can I call my Mom now?”

<->

You were curled in Ilsa’s lap, not because you had to but because it was the closest to steady you felt. The phone call with your Mom hadn’t helped much. You explained your new part time job, let Ilsa talk about the home renovations a bit and adamantly assured them both you were doing just fine.

It wasn’t true, you weren’t fine. But the best you had was Ilsa’s lap, a TV buzzing in front of you to dull out what touch didn’t. Something had shifted, perhaps it was your perspective, or maybe the fight had drained out of you. Ilsa’s body was warm, her heartbeat steady. You could bury your nose in her neck and know the smell before you breathed it in. Confusing familiarity and affection was dangerous, but to an extent they were related. It was you that broke the silence.

“… Can we just stay in our pajamas today?” you murmured, face squished against her bare collarbone.

Ilsa turned, looking down at you with an uncharacteristically gentle expression on her face.

“Would that make you feel better?” she murmured, her tone coaxing for once.

The attentiveness she was showing didn’t feel performative, the stiffness of her body betraying just how nervous she was about being so close, so comfortable with you. Preservation made her placating. The two of you were finally hearing each other.

“Yeah. I just need an off day.” you sighed, resting your head against her shoulder.

A low chuckle came from Ilsa, and she pulled you tighter, pressing soft kisses to your hairline. 

“We all do sometimes. We’ll have an off day, maybe an off week. As long as you’re feeling more like yourself.”

Yourself. A person you hadn’t felt the space to be in sometime. The depression, the extreme anxiety and fits of nausea were all connected to something so simple, you realized. Ilsa had taken such an autocratic approach to your life, it was a form of abduction after all. If you were able to learn how to be yourself in it, accept that Ilsa was an inevitable cornerstone in this new way of living…

This had to be Stockholm’s slipping into your brain and delicately tweaking the wires a day at a time. The awareness that you were trauma bonded with Ilsa didn’t make the truth any easier to swallow. It was guilt that kept you from making use of your freedom.

Guilt, of course. That’s all it was, and as you say in Ilsa’s lap, hearing the distant explosions of the tv in the background, you resolved to feel a little less guilty about enjoying Ilsa’s presence in your life.

<->

“No please… Uhhh… I can’t take anymore… Please! I can’t…!” Ilsa moaned, clutching at the bed rails.

You giggled, digging your fingers into the awful knot in her back. She’d been putting off physical therapy for some time, and now she was paying for it, scented oils aiding the slip of your hands as you brutally worked out all the lactic acid in her muscles.

“You’re such a baby. If you let me take care of this every other day it wouldn’t hurt so bad.” you cooed, nibbling at her trapezius as your thumbs dug into her lower back.

A disgruntled whine was her nippy response. Ilsa didn’t want to admit you were right, especially when she was at the receiving end of your attention, and witness of her wrongness.

“It hurtssssss.” 

“I said I would kiss it better after, just let me finish these muscles.” you coaxed, eyeing the ripple of her back as she belligerently winced away from your massage.

True to your word you rained kisses down along her spine, earning a soft sigh from Ilsa. She languidly rolled around, torso exposed as she yawned. It was late, probably two am on a Thursday. Ilsa had been tossing and turning, too sore to sleep. Ibuprofen hadn’t shut her up, she’d been too frustrated to try anything else.

“Can’t sleep…” she whined, pulling you down against her chest. 

It was hot enough that the two of you had elected to sleep naked, the simple sheet clinging to your back. Ilsa smelled just a little stinky, the kind that was comforting instead of repelling. You amused yourself with kissing her belly, tracing over lightly defined abs and soft skin.

“Tease.” she hoarsely whispered, hands slipping into your hair.

That was no reason to quit, but you knew she was warning you. Push further and the two of you would be awake until morning. So you crawled up, curling in her arms until your face was squished in her boobs.

“Favorite place?” Ilsa smirked.

“Maybe.”

“Mrrrrrrh?” Bella chirped from the foot of the bed, curious as to why you were awake.

“Nosey Nelly.” Ilsa stuck her tongue out at the black and white fuzzball.

Instead of scolding Ilsa, you opted for a direct response, scraping your teeth at the underside of her boob.

“Heyyyyyyyy.” Ilsa whined, tugging at your hair in response.

It was all fun, and you curled into her arms properly, head on the pillow.

“Be nice to my baby.” you murmured, no bite to your tone.

“… But I’m your baby.” Ilsa pouted.

“No.” you smirked. “Bella is the baby. She’s my baby, has been longer than I’ve known you.”

Ilsa let out a long, dramatic sigh, milking the performance for sympathy she wasn’t likely to get,

“I hate it when animals come between us.” 

“There’s a lot more than just a cat between us.” you sardonically quipped, earning a cackle of delight from Ilsa.

“Still sore over the kidnapping thing?” she preened, showing not one ounce of remorse.

“I’m an adult, it’s abduction.” you said, fighting off that nagging frustration that rose to the surface whenever your situation was made so transparent.

Sensing your emotional discomfort, Ilsa pulled you closer, soothing with soft kisses over your cheekbones and the bridge of your nose until those lingering upsets faded back into subconscious.

“Goodnight, my love.” she whispered.

You hummed once, mulling over those words as sleep crept over you like a bandit in the night. ‘My’ implied possession, a degree of ownership that should’ve felt as discomforting as candidly referencing the truth of Ilsa’s relationship with you. Instead it felt tender, remotely true. It stirred something lovesick and hopeful in you, breaking out the softest of truths in your psyche.

“I love you too.” you whispered, barely audible against her neck.

It wasn’t what she had said, but you suspected it had been the closest Ilsa was ever going to come to uttering a similar confession. Her breath hitched all the same and she held you crushingly tight, breathing unsteady.

“Oh princess…” she rasped. “I’m the luckiest woman alive.”

And then her chest heaved, a spasm that was too close to a sob to be intentional. Wet tears slipped into your hair, mingling with her rapid breaths. It was you who bridged the gap, tilting your head up to meet her lips in a messy, uncoordinated kiss. The rhythm came slowly, your lips slipping into a familiar dance. She tasted like the salt of her tears, cherry tobacco that still lingered after brushing her teeth. 

Ilsa was a tender animal, capable of immense destruction and immeasurable patience. It had won your heart, this earnest commitment to waiting until you were able to love, to get past the birth of your relationship and appreciate the person behind the wrongdoing.

If it had stayed this simple, the two of you might’ve been set for life.

<~-~>

The computer screen blared blue-white in the dark bedroom. Ilsa was gone, out on an early morning jog, something she’d picked up now that the seasons were changing, the weather more fair. It was insufferable, the computer turning on and off at seemingly random intervals. You resolved to set it right, hauling yourself out of yours and Ilsa’s bed to fix the issue.

Spamming the space bar a few times brought up the log in information. You yawned, clicking on Ilsa’s account out of curiosity. A password, three step verification appeared. There was an option to log in via a mobile device,  Ilsa’s phone buzzing on the desk. You clicked at the notification, typing in Ilsa’s phone password twice. It worked, immediately opening the computer. 

The mouse moved aimlessly around the computer as you searched for a button to mute notifications, at least temporarily. There was nothing about this computer that seemed to be commercial, but the documents and folders made no sense. Abbreviations, odd nicknames for files… It was Ilsa’s madness you assumed. Until you found a file titled with your initials. It wasn’t your business, it could’ve been coincidence. 

You decided to click on it anyways. 

Videos. Loads and loads of videos all organized into files. Your neck prickled in alarm, foreboding, the cursor slipping towards a file titled ‘Best hits’. The door creaking open didn’t stop you, your finger double clicking the file and displaying video after video titled with a location and a date.

Ilsa’s face went white, her hands moving too fast, and yet not fast enough. She was panicking, mumbling words, demands, pleads all at once.

“Stop… Stop, don’t click… (Reader) please! I can explain everything…”

The first video loaded just as soon as her hand grasped yours in a painfully tight grip. ‘December 22nd, bedroom’.

You’d been right all along, she did have cameras. And she recorded everything, every intimate encounter, compiled into files. It wasn’t a minor breach of privacy, of trust and consent… Ilsa had a colorful past, even if she did know how to encrypt files there was no guarantee that she was keeping these videos private.

Moans came from the speakers. You remembered this night, remembered the sex faintly, moreso the Christmas decorating that happened before it. It wasn’t disgust you felt, there was no urge to vomit, even if it made you slightly queasy to know she’d video taped it all. Calmness flowed into your body, a sure sign of adrenaline. Ilsa’s face was the first thing you saw when you turned your head.

Blue, teary and terrified eyes stared back at you, her hand was shaking over yours, her entire body was shaking. Silence stretched between you.

“… I’ll delete it all, every file, I can wipe the computer.” she hoarsely whispered, lip trembling with suppressed sobs.

Your response felt… Outside of yourself. You didn’t recognize the head shaking, the sudden conviction you felt. It was certainty, relief. Things had been too good to be true for too long, and now the pin had dropped. This was what you had known all along, and the relief to be right outweighed the emotional distress that would come later.

“I’m moving out tomorrow.” you said. “This isn’t something that we can come back from, and deleting the files is the bare minimum.”

You stood, ignoring the way Ilsa clawed at your midsection, holding you with strength you’d only theorized she had.

“No, no, please.” she sobbed, pressing sloppy, revolting kisses to your neck and shoulder. “I’ll fix it all, I’ll fix this, we never have to have sex again!”

She dropped, bringing you down to the floor with her. Her grasp, her wails and sobs were like the wallpaper, boring, known and routine. Light was creeping through the windows, inching towards your toes. Hands were no longer gentle, she no longer had any power.

Tag List: @bjoerkumlaut, @lovelyy-moonlight, @coffee-is-my-oxygen, @appparadox407 @ilovehotactresses @marvelwomenrule @midnight-lestrange @itsfleetwoodmac

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

Gentle Hands (Part Three)

Stalker Ilsa Faust x Fem! Reader

NSFW 18+- MINORS WHO INTERACT CAN AND WILL BE BLOCKED.

Summary: Fights, make-ups, another fight, a badly arranged foreplay and cameras. What does good for Ilsa really look like? And what cost does it come at?

Warnings: Allusions to a physical fight between R and Ilsa, angst, losing Mario Kart because of Toad, brief panty sniffing (Ilsa you creep), bad foreplay that results in hurt feelings (brief), consensual SMUT (oral Ilsa recieving, masturbation via partner (Ilsa touches R), sweet talking, breast fondling, Ilsa being a creep with cameras).

A/N: Took a break mid-smut sequence to complete tasks for the big green bird. He is sated (for now).

Word Count: 5.4k (Eat up gremmies)

It had been a week since Ilsa had abducted you. Ilsa, not Lisa. She insisted that you call her by her ‘correct’ name now that it was just the two of you. Ilsa was horrendously efficient at erasing your past life. She sent in your urgent notice of resignation the morning after she’d taken you into her apartment. She’d also installed brand new locks inside your home, all electronic, finger-print coded locks. They were high-tech, you couldn’t fake it with a thumb print on a piece of tape. She allowed you to move between her house and your home, mostly to move your things into her town home. You were never allowed outside without her knowledge. You also couldn’t open any windows without an alarm going off. Every single exit in the home was barred, and every single moment of your life was spent with Ilsa.

“Darling, can you make us a cup of tea?” Ilsa asked, brow furrowed as she cracked into another bank account. 

Ilsa’s new hobby was re-establishing her wire transfer network. By this point you knew she was a former intelligence operative, or more likely a seasoned criminal. She had connections and skills that didn’t make sense otherwise. Your new hobby was Mario Kart and baking. You cooked incessantly, as it was the only thing that felt ‘normal’. That and making lattes. You could really only make two for yourself in a day. Ilsa wasn’t fond of you increasing your caffeine intake more than what she deemed ‘healthy’. She was so fond of ‘healthy’ endeavours. So you worked out with her in the mornings. She was teaching you how to box. It was therapeutic, getting to take out all of your frustrations on the person who was the root of them. Mostly. Ilsa had a nasty habit of getting too into it and treating you too roughly.

“Darling?”

“Sorry, yeah. I’m on it.”

You moved into the kitchen, turning the kettle on and preparing the two mugs. Ilsa liked her coffee bland. Cream. Zero sugar. In Ilsa’s mind, sugar was the devil. Mostly because she made up for it in alcohol. With the cup of black tea with just a splash of cream, Ilsa was back at work. You left her side, hoping to skip out on the mandatory ‘morning couple time’.

‘Ah, ah. Not so fast. You come back here.” Ilsa chuckled.

You sat back down next to her.

“Why so frigid, hmm? Come, sit in my lap for a bit.” Ilsa gave a sly smirk.

You remained put, and Ilsa sighed, giving a playful pout.

“You’re no fun.”

Crossing your arms and ignoring her comments felt like second-nature at this point. You were upset with her, as was reasonably so. She’d abducted you and disconnected you from the outside world. It was infuriating, watching her snip off the connections you had to society, to your family bit by carefully timed bit. But last night was the worst. Your Mom had called. You’d tried to send her some sort of message that things weren’t fine, that you were being held against your will, but Ilsa wouldn’t have it. 

‘Are you still upset about Bella?”

At the sound of her name, the cat let out a soft ‘meh’ sound, stretching out her fur-encased arms.

“Why wouldn’t I be? Holding a knife to my cat’s throat? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Isa sighed softly, giving you a soft glance that said, ‘I know, I know’. Her eyebrow and lip were still taped up.

“I paid for it, I knew that it wasn’t fair to you, and I paid for it.”

Moreso, she’d let you hit her. You’d lost count of how many punches you’d given before she finally restrained you. There was a bruise on one of your knuckles. You didn’t feel vindicated, the contrary. Hitting her felt weak. She was stronger than you, quicker, skilled in a thousand ways that you weren’t, and she’d taken the punches until she deemed that it was enough.

“I’m angry.” you huffed. “Why couldn’t you have used a different method.”

“Like what? Holding a knife to your throat? We both know I’d never mean it. I couldn’t intentionally harm you, but if it came down to it, I’d do a lot of awful things to keep you around.”

“I thought you liked Bella!”

“I do, princess, I do. It’s just that I needed you to not raise suspicion.” Ilsa sighed.

“Yeah, not tell the fucking truth about what’s going on.” you spat back.

“I know you don’t like this life, but I have given so much to ensure it’s better than your old-”

“Better how? It was my life before! Mine! It wasn’t perfect, but at least I was working towards a better future with honest work!”

Ilsa laughed.

“Oh, and what I do isn’t honest?”

“I don’t steal.”

“No, you were stolen from. You were spending hours working one of the most difficult, draining jobs for sub-par pay and zero safety net aside from the government’s shitty one.” Ilsa scoffed. “I steal, sure. But it’s from people who steal from people like you. And I steal a small amount from a lot of wicked, evil people. And I’m using it to protect something good.”

“Exhausting, isn’t it.”

“Oh come off it.” Ilsa groaned.

“Your personal fable is maintained at the cost of morality-”

“Do you really think I have what society considers to be ‘morals’?” Ilsa cut you off.

“No.”

“Then stop wasting your time. You’re upset, you’re angry, and I’m not doing anything to make it better. You’re not getting your old life back, accept it and move on.”

Ilsa reached for her desk, grabbing a cherry vape and inhaling slowly. She pushed out a series of rings, momentarily focusing on vape tricks.

“I’m not in the mood for couple time.” 

You made it about three paces out of the office before Ilsa’s arms were around your waist and restraining you. She pulled you back into her office, attaching a handcuff from her chair to your wrist.

“This is supposed to make me hate you any less?”

“Forced proximity does wonders for the mind.” Ilsa mused, taking another hit off of her vape.

“So Stockholm syndrome?”

Ilsa chuckled, reaching over to ruffle your hair.

“The academic.”

You rolled your eyes. 

“And look where it got me? Working at a damn coffee shop.”

Ilsa hummed, amused by the interaction.

“You know what you need?”

“My freedom.” you cracked back.

“Day drinking.” Ilsa rolled her eyes. “This little mood swing would just fade away with some alcohol.”

“I’m not getting drunk so you can fuck me.”

The former agent groaned, turning off her computer. She wouldn’t deny it. She did want that, but not while you were intoxicated. She had some morals.

“I can’t work in such a hostile work environment.” 

“Wasn’t your entire thing working in hostile environments?” you smirked, poking at her ex-operative past.

“And I’d never go back.” Ilsa sighed. 

She was nice enough to unfasten your cuff, giving you free reign, or so you thought.

“No, no, no.” Ilsa chided, pulling you back into her body. “You and I are going to do something fun.”

You were out of one-liners at this point. In all honesty, it was exhausting being angry with her. That’s all you were, angry with her. She led you through the kitchen, and then she opened the door to the garden. It was a decent day, but chilly. Ilsa shoved a sweatshirt over your head, which you begrudgingly put on all the way. The fresh air felt good.

“Bella, goddammit!” Ilsa swore, the fat tuxedo evading the dirty blonde before she could catch her once more.

“Just let her outside. She deserves it as much as I do.”

Ilsa sighed, shaking her head. 

“Only because you’re upset with me.”

“Kills you, doesn’t it?” you snarked back on instinct.

But the barbed jab you expected in return never came. There was just silence, which Ilsa broke by clearing her throat. You’d inadvertently hit the nail on the head. She was upset, and she was anxious. You’d forgotten how much she did care. Ilsa didn’t just abduct someone because she could. She wasn’t a ‘because I can’ person. And the arguments you’d been having all morning, all week really, they were upsetting.

“I’m not going to feel bad just because you’re playing the victim card.”

“Stop. Just fucking stop.” Ilsa’s voice broke. “Get your ass back inside.”

“Ilsa, I’m-”

“No, nope. Inside.”

You walked inside the house, shutting the door behind you. You never did get a good glance at Ilsa’s face, but you didn’t need to. Through the screen door, you saw her slump to her knees on the back door steps, and her shoulders heaved. And there was that guilt again. Bella had slunk inside with you again, pawing at the door in confusion.

“I can’t let you out.” you whispered.

“Meh.” she protested.

“It was your own fault, you should’ve stayed outside.”

The walk upstairs to yours and Ilsa’s room felt a lot harder than was reasonable. You knew that it wasn’t all that rational to feel guilty about tormenting someone who was equally, if not exceeding you in torment. But you could empathise with her pain. She was doing a lot for you. And even though you couldn’t go outside without her, even leave the garden, she was doing a lot for you. The food in the fridge, you didn’t pay for. The furniture and games you wound down with hadn’t been out of your pocket, and the skills she was teaching you, the boxing, the german, the little tricks for hacking, those were all things she’d given you for nothing much, other than a few small requests.

Out of the second story hallway window, you could see Ilsa leaving the garden, slipping into her Benz. She’d be gone for hours, probably. And your time felt… Hollow. Mario Kart was repetitive and infuriating. Language learning with help from the green bird didn’t amount to shit, even with Ilsa’s super membership. Nothing you did was fulfilling. So you did as your cat did, slumping into the bed and taking a nap. But still, that didn’t feel right. With great mortification and a small degree of realised irony, you picked up Ilsa’s pillow and buried your face into it. Then, and only then, did you sleep.

<->

Ilsa didn’t do anything but drive. She ended up in a farmer’s field, sitting behind a hedge and just fucking fuming. She was mad. Mad at herself, mad at you, mad at her life. In another life she could have pursued you normally. In another life where she could walk into a supermarket at rush hour without fear of an anxiety episode, she could have struck up a conversation with you there. But she wasn’t normal. And so she’d resort to abnormal methods to get you, because something with you was better than nothing. 

“Bella, you silly girl.” Ilsa sighed as she walked into the house, blocking the fat tuxedo from getting out.

It was quiet, too quiet for Ilsa’s tastes. She rushed through the house, looking for you in every room until she eventually burst into the bedroom. You were curled up, sleeping. Ilsa slumped against the doorframe, letting out an audible sigh of relief. And… Was that her pillow? Jesus Christ, you were precious. Ilsa took off her shoes and her overcoat. She was wet from the rain, so everything came off, aside from underwear and a sports bra. Slipping into bed with you felt so right. Ilsa needed that physical contact with you, and she’d sneak it where she could. The pillow was replaced by her arms, a delicate act of shifting. You smelled so good to Ilsa. 

“Oh… Princess.” Ilsa whispered, almost ready to cry again.

This week had been the most infuriating week of her life. You almost never touched Ilsa, unless it was in a boxing set-up. Training you had been a lovely way to break tension. She could guide your posture, adjusting your body with her hands. Showers were the best thing for Ilsa. She’d let you finish up a few exercises while she showered, using the head to relieve the ceaseless aching that came when she was too close to you for too long. And the emotional whiplash. Ilsa was fatigued of the constant bickering, arguing and overall tension between the two of you; not the sexy kind. Drugging you again was a thought that flicked through her head daily. Just long enough to cuddle you, to breathe in the smell of your skin without the threat of you waking up.

“Mmph.” she heard you softly complain.

You shifted your body, wiggling deeper into her arms. With every exhale, your breath would ghost over her neck and it was driving her insane.

“Princess, don’t tease, I know-”

“Shut up.” you mumbled, clumsily pawing at her face to get her to stop talking.

Ilsa let out a startled laugh. She’d forgotten you were a light sleeper.

“Shh… Let me sleep.” you continued to complain.

Ilsa rolled her eyes, holding you closer, half-listening to your complaints. 

“Let me hold you.”

And this time you didn’t push her off. She was warm, body temperature raised from her run, or wherever she’d been. She smelled like hay, for whatever reason. Bella, sensing the cuddle puddle, hopped up on the bed, sniffing around the two of you, turning about four or five times before she slumped into the bed, yawning. 

“Are you still upset with me?” Ilsa eventually asked.

“A little.” you admitted. “It would be hard not to be. I don’t like feeling guilty for making you upset.”

“Because you want to hurt me for what I’m doing to you?”

You let a frustrated sigh. When she put it like that, it made you sound like an asshole. It was complicated.

“I don’t like that I can feel myself starting to like you. Because you’re not mean, you don’t hurt me, and you take so much of my shit. I’d be lucky to find someone like you, but you’ve taken my entire life.”

Ilsa hummed, shifting you in her arms. She took another deep breath, and you felt her thigh graze your pant leg.

“Are you just in a bra and panties? Seriously?”

And just like that, whatever understanding you were going to reach disappeared. She was a constant voyeur. When you baked, when you read, and you suspected when you were changing. You’d never seen one of the cameras, but you were sure they were there somewhere. Hence you hadn’t been masturbating at all. It was infuriating, the lead up to your period didn’t make it too difficult, but still. A week with nothing? 

“Hey, hey, hey.” Ilsa sat up, trying to pull you back. “Stay on the bed, I’ll go change. My clothes were wet, Jesus Christ.”

Ilsa grabbed a change of clothes, shutting the bathroom door behind her. She stripped completely, mumbling something under her breath about ‘not catching a damn break’. That’s when she saw them. You never left your clothes out anymore, shoving them in the hamper. You were religious about home cleanliness with nothing else to do, so most laundry was collected and washed. You’d left your panties out after your morning shower, probably because you still had Bella on your mind.

“I think I’m just going to take a shower, my hair’s all wet.” Ilsa called from inside the bathroom. 

“Yeah, whatever.” you called back.

Ilsa turned on the shower, stepping in the water for a moment, then stepping right back out. She needed her body wet to maintain the lie, long enough for her to enjoy the remnants left in your panties.

“Oh my.” Ilsa whispered to herself.

Her body heated up almost immediately, nasty thought after more damnable nasty thought flicking through her head. She wanted to pin you to the bed so badly. What would you smell like at the source? And the taste? How rich it would be, how debaucherous and unsoiled. Not these cloth remnants. She dropped the cloth garment to the floor, staggering back into the shower. She needed to focus, to breathe, to run her fingers over the dripping wet seam between her labia. It wasn’t enough. When had this stopped being enough?

<->

You hadn’t seen Ilsa since she’d gotten in the shower. You were fully awake by the time she had left the bed, and there was no sense hanging around. Not for her, anyways. By this point in the mid-afternoon, day drinking seemed excusable. So you slipped into the basement and found one of Ilsa’s wine bottles. You weren’t a wine drinker. Especially dark wines. But alcohol was alcohol. A glass of wine and Mario Kart on a weekday afternoon? The lap of luxury, truly.

“Hey.” you heard a breathy sigh near your ear.

“Hi Ilsa. I’m busy.”

The woman sat next to you. She smelled nice. Vanilla cashmere lotion. How long had she been grooming for? Not that you cared.

“Can you be a little less busy for me?” Ilsa asked.

You turned, looking at her full on as you paused the game. You opened your mouth to snark at her, but she looked… Good. Her hair was a little damp and she’d taken pains to get herself clean.

“Umm, what is this about?” you gestured to her sweats that were just a little too tight.

Ilsa took a deep breath in. 

“I want to spend some time with you. Do you mind if I pour myself a glass of wine?”

“It’s your house and your wine, don’t ask me for permission.” you shrugged.

Ilsa chuckled, a breathy sound. What was up with her. You didn’t care, you just unpaused the game, returning to the high stakes race that was ‘Rainbow Road’. Ilsa busied herself, pouring herself a glass of wine. She settled beside you, eyeing the glass of wine you’d barely touched.

“I keep thinking…” Ilsa whispered in your ear. “About that night you came over with my friends…”

She was distracting, and you had to fight to stay on course.

“Ilsa, please, I’m trying to get a trophy right now.”

Ilsa had other plans. Better plans. Plans that involved you paying attention to her. So she scooted closer, using the distraction of your hands on the switch controller to place her hands on your waist.

“Just wait, I’m almost fini-”

The former spy leaned in, her mouth meeting your neck. Wet, sinful kisses placed one after the other on your rapidly accelerating pulse, tongue slipping out just past her lips, tracing lines and patterns over the sensitive skin.

“I can’t get your taste out of my mouth, I can’t unhear your little moans.” Ilsa whispered, a distinct reediness to her voice, like she was speaking with a sore throat.

“I have one more lap, please, Ilsa.” you groaned, searching for anything to get away from the woman, even briefly.

But was it her you were trying to get away from, or yourself? You couldn’t deny how hot it had been to makeout with her, how sexy and commanding she had been. And her hands were slipping lower, squeezing and releasing your hips in time with those kisses trailing up your neck, to your jaw, to your ear.

“You said you didn’t do hookups, but I think we can both agree that it wouldn’t be a one time thing.”

There was a lump in your throat. You had to cough to dislodge it. You were in first, you could let down your guard for a-

“Fucking toad!” you growled, all of your senses back in gear to win rainbow road.

“Toad can wait.” Ilsa growled.

She swung her leg over your lap, settling her pelvis in the space created by your crossed legs. This time her mouth was hungry, nipping, sucking licking. Over your neck, your jaw, biting and sucking your earlobe into your mouth. The grip on the controller grew lax, and you shut your eyes, not even caring that it caused your car to slip off the race track right before the finish line.

“I’m listening, I’m listening, Jesus.” you swore. 

Ilsa looked into your eyes, nibbling on her lip with mixed desire and anxiety.

“One night.” Ilsa begged. “Just one.”

You opened your mouth to say no. But that look in her eyes… One night couldn’t hurt. She was a good kisser, she’d treat you right… And then you could go back to hating her in the morning. But a little steam. Just letting loose a little.

“... Okay. Just one night.”

Ilsa didn’t delay. She didn’t wait. Her mouth was on yours, and she let out a sound in between a hum and a huff, like she was relieved and yet still frustrated that it had taken this long. Placing your arms around her waist felt right. She had a firm, muscular backside, but in the jumper she was wearing, she had a softer feeling. And though her mouth was demanding and needy at first, Ilsa slowed down, pressing her lips against yours slowly, tongue lightly gracing your bottom lip with every soft smooch. You opened your mouth just a little, gracing your tongue with the feeling of her bottom lip, her tongue. Ilsa held your head steady, leaning in and drawing your tongue out, just long enough to divert it so she could slip her tongue in. She tasted like red wine, and… She’d been chewing that cherry tobacco again. She tasted like sin. One of your hands slipped beneath her jumper, tracing those abs that were always peeking out below her sports bra. She had a soft layer of tissue above the muscles, like a padded layer making her harder points comfortable.

“Princess, take off that t-shirt for me.” Ilsa whispered.

You chuckled.

“I will, but you’ve got to tell me why I’m ‘princess’ in the first place.”

Ilsa smiled, kissing your jaw softly.

“Innocent, gentle, and those hands.” Ilsa smirked, cupping one of your hands against her bare waist. “Princess hands, so dainty and gentle.”

You blushed, and you didn’t resist as she brought one of your hands to her mouth, gently kissing your palm, your knuckles, and then eventually, enveloping your fingers in her mouth entirely.

“Mmm…” Ilsa hummed, a wrinkle relaxing around her eyes. “Finally.” she whispered, kissing your hands again, one after the other.

There was a gentle beat, and then she reached for your t-shirt, pulling it off as you raised your arms. Ilsa spent a good minute just looking at your bare chest. She reached out, aiming to touch one of your breasts, but she paused.

“May I?”

There was irony here in her asking consent, but you weren’t focused on that. You were focused on those soft eyes and how they twinkled with excitement.

“You may.” 

She reached out with both hands, cupping your breasts, humming softly. She didn’t stay in one place for long, massaging your sides and gently kissing your collarbone. It was easy to relax, even as she lowered you to lay sideways on the couch, it was easy to relax. You helped her take off your pants and your panties, and Ilsa was quick to pull off her sweats, leaving her in nothing but a sheer, see through bra and panty set.

“I didn’t know we were dressing up.” you flushed, trying to hide your arousal.

“It doesn’t matter. I’d have ripped off whatever you were wearing anyway.” Ilsa husked, settling atop your hips, crossing her arms.

“... Do you know that Ankah meme?”

Ilsa rolled her eyes, not giving two shits about you and your little memes. Her lips attacked your neck again, urging you to just get lost in the moment. Her hair was soft under your fingertips, and her back… You wanted to take a moment to just admire every curve of her spine, of her trapezius, her deltoids, her latissimus dorsi. She made you smarter, you realised. It was her training, her attention. She’d taught you the names of these muscles, and she’d teach you more, you realised.

“I can’t be slow, honey, I’m so sorry.” Ilsa whispered.

You met her eyes. She looked so… 

“What do you need?”

Ilsa tugged off her panties, then the bra. You watched in shock as a literal string of arousal extended from her entrance to the cloth of the panties, before eventually snapping back.

“Oh.. My go-”

Ilsa wasn’t in the mood for talking, rather only in the mood for one thing. She shoved the soiled panties into your agape mouth, nearly causing you to gag.

“No talking, none.” Ilsa huffed.

She slipped one leg over your hip, the other leg slipping beneath one of yours on the opposite side. Ilsa was going to press your bodies together, but the shocked look on your face gave her pause.

“Sorry, I’m not thinking.” Ilsa sighed, pulling her panties out of your mouth. “Do I have your consent?”

“Can we maybe slow down?”

Ilsa let out an angry noise. You weren’t expecting her to just… Get up and leave.

“Woah, woah, this isn’t effective communication, you’re not telling me what you need!” you ran after her, noting how her ass would jiggle a bit with every step.

“I’m too frustrated, and it’ll be better for me if I just do it myself.” Ilsa spat.

Now you were confused. She’d begged you to have sex with her, and now she didn’t want it.

“Hey, hey, let’s talk about this.” you tried, snagging her elbow.

Ilsa had tears in her eyes. Now you felt like an ass, and it must have showed on your face, because Ilsa blubbered out reassurances immediately after.

“I just… I am so frustrated, it hurts.” Ilsa stammered.

It was those eyes. It had to be those eyes, because you wouldn’t have done what you did next without some explanation. Taking her hips, you pushed her against the hallway wall, falling to your knees in front of her, hooking one of her thighs over your shoulders.

“Just let me take care of you, hmm?”

Ilsa groaned, tangling her hands in your hair, tugging at the roots. The tension in her body evaporated as your arms glided up her thighs to rest on her hips. Your eyes looking up at her, so glassy and reassuring. Your mouth open, wet, hot, air ghosting over the mess that was her core. And then those lips, closing over her entrance, tongue parting her labia, drawing steady strokes up and down, igniting pleasurable sensations that slithered up and down her spine. Ilsa relaxed, letting out a long, satisfied moan. All these months of stalking, of monitoring, of tirelessly working to get you here… And now you were on your knees, gently servicing her with those wet, warm lips. She nearly cried when you wrapped your lips around her clit, licking and sucking, drawing steady circles over the buzzing nerve. 

But for you… This was a different experience. You were nervous, anxious to please, anxious to bring her relief, and almost too focused on the process… That was until her fingers drew up and down your scalp in little scratching motions. You moaned into her, to which she gasped, and whimpered. It was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard. You trailed your hands down, parting her outer labia and pulling the clitoral hood up, only to let out a deep moan around the nerve. 

“Fuck!” Ilsa cried out, her hips bucking. “Oh my god, pleaseeee.”

You hummed again, licking and sucking at her clit with full abandon. Her hips canted in circles, grinding herself into your mouth, against your chin. You felt a mix of saliva and her own arousal slipping down your chin, to your neck.

“Just like that, oh goddd.” Ilsa whined again, struggling to stand. 

She grabbed the hallway cabinet to her left for leverage, her muscular thighs rippling as she focused on the sensations of your blessed mouth tracing patterns over her hyper-sensitive clit. You pressed your face deeper into her, spelling out sentences with your tongue, letter by letter, suckling in between the messages. ‘Lover’, ‘Sexy’, ‘Needy baby’. Whatever you could think of, whatever her whines and moans stirred in you, that was what you wrote.

“Oh.. Oh.. Oh, oh oh!” Ilsa panted, the motions of her hips growing desperate.

You knew better than to stop, so you doubled down, drawing your tongue in steady circles, even as your jaws ached, as your head buzzed, as your neck screamed. Both of her hands flew to your head, shoving you into her. You moaned as she tugged on your scalp again, and that is what sent her over the edge. Ilsa’s back bowed, her thighs tensed, and she threw her head back in a silent scream, followed by intermittent pants. She held on for as long as she could, but her legs were too wobbly to safely remain standing.

“Coming down.” Ilsa warned, sliding down the wall and into your arms.

She was panting and flushed, you were panting and massaging your jaw which ached like a bitch. Ilsa took several moments to just commit the image to memory. 

“Turn around.” Ilsa rasped.

You sat down on your back, giving your sore knees a break. You’d have tender bruises there soon, visible or otherwise. Awkwardly shuffling around, you managed to slump into her back, to which Ilsa let out a sound that almost sounded like a purr.

“Hike your legs over mine.” Ilsa cooed.

You flushed, placing your knees on either side of her bent ones. Her lips returned to your neck, her hands sliding up and down your front. One of her hands found a breast, gently toying with one of your nipples again. 

“Ilsa…”

“Shhh, princess. Let me make you feel good too. You deserve it after loving me so spectacularly.” Ilsa murmured, pressing slow kisses to your jaw.

Her other hand travelled lower, parting your glistening labia. Two fingers held your labia taught, the middle finger drawing slow circles over your clit, a gentle stimulation. 

“... Oh.. Ohhh.” you hummed.

It felt better than when you touched yourself. She wasn’t doing anything unusual or otherwise groundbreaking, but it felt so good when it was her hand. Ilsa smiled against your neck, gently kissing over your neck. Her lips attached themselves right above that flickering pulse of your artery, sucking, leaving her mark. You shut your eyes, letting her just work you over.

“Moan for me, let me hear how good it feels.” Ilsa whispered, kissing your ear.

The spot on your neck where she’d sucked an angry hickey throbbed, electrifying the other senses her hands were creating on your body. You let out a tentative moan as she sped her fingers up just a little.

“Can you talk to me?” you whispered.

Ilsa chuckled, nibbling your ear.

“Of course I can, princess. I’ll tell you all about how wet you are for me, hmm? And how good you’re doing, sitting so pretty with your knees in place…”

You whimpered again, and you were rewarded with a bit more pressure from her finger.

“Oh, good girl. It feels so good, doesn’t it? Having your body loved like this?”

A head lean into her and another needy moan was enough assurance that Ilsa was doing what she needed to do. 

“Mhm, just like that, are you feeling yourself getting close?”

A shuddering breath and a soft head nod was enough for Ilsa. She gently sped up her fingers, drawing harder circles over your clit until your thighs trembled and your hips bucked.

“Ilsa!” you moaned, arching your back against her hand.

Ilsa cooed softly, continuing to roll her fingers at that steady pace until your hips relaxed, and her hand with it. Her arms wrapped around your sides, and she kissed you up and down your face, your jaw. She smiled, cuddling you to her. In the dark light of the hallway, Ilsa looked up, noting the little red dot that flashed. Once was enough for now. She could replay this on her laptop as many times as she wanted to now, she could see the angle of your body from the front as you bucked into her arms. She’d recorded this, after all. And she’d save it for as long as she needed to. 

This was just the beginning.

Tags (For previous askers and people who might want this): @lakita-fisher, @ilovehotactresses, @gay-and-sad-tm, @needyformilfs

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

Gentle Hands (Part Two)

Stalker Ilsa Faust x Fem! Reader

NSFW 18+- MINORS WHO INTERACT CAN AND WILL BE BLOCKED.

Summary: Accidents happen all the time, cats get loose, and amidst all that chaos, there’s usually someone around to help.

Warnings: Stalking (duh), drugging, masturbation, proximity kink (?), abduction, Ilsa being a toddler and breaking shit for like a hot second

A/N: Lisa/Ilsa used interchangeably, refers to the same individual.

Word Count: 2.7k

"Bella?" you called, frantically searching around your house for the fat black and white cat. "Bella? Where are you?"

You'd slept in through your alarms again, and now you were late for work. You'd called your employer to let them know, and in the duration of the phone call, you realized your cat had gone missing. Looking about frantically, you found your backdoor open, which was odd. You always had the backdoor locked, it was second nature. Coming outside in your pajama top and shorts, you were hit by the still-winter weather that kept everything in a perpetual state of sogginess.

"Bella!" you called, checking the time. "Bella, come on!"

A loud bellow that could be identified as a cat sound came, and to your horror, you found Bella wedged behind several of your heaviest flower pots.

"I don't have time for this!" you groaned, trying to muscle the pots to the side.

A soft knock on the garden gate.

"Yeah, I know I'm being loud on a Monday morning, deal with it!" you bit back, groaning as you struggled with the giant dirt filled ceramic.

A second pair of hands appeared next to yours, and you managed to muscle the pots back enough to grab the cold, wet cat.

"Thank you." you groaned, trying to catch your breath.

Bella looked at the woman in mild curiosity, sniffing her outstretched hand. The woman smiled.

"Of course. I'm your new neighbor, I figured it would be a good idea to introduce myself this way." she laughed.

You smiled, nodding at the woman. She seemed familiar, but you couldn't put your finger on it. Her hair was a solid dark brown, and her eyebrows matched, so you assumed it was her natural hair color.

"You look familiar, have we met?"

The woman shook her head.

"No, I don't think so. My name is Lisa Favere. I moved in next door, house eighteen."

You nodded, but you had the uncanny sense that you knew her, somehow, somewhere.

"Oh, well then I suppose we share a yard you chuckled. "I've been meaning to repair that fence for a while..."

"Don't worry, it might be nicer just to leave the fence down, that way we can observe the other's gardens come spring." Lisa suggested.

"Maybe..." you smiled, trying to find a way out of this conversation. "I really don't mean to come across as rude and cut the introduction short, but I'm already late for work. I'll see you some other time, Lisa."

You left the woman in the yard, hauling your wet cat inside. As you rushed to catch the bus for work, you realized you'd never given the woman your name.

<------------->

Ilsa chewed the inside of her cheek. That introduction was supposed to have been far more memorable. She'd even gotten tea ready. Sure, she knew you had work, but it was a shift you'd picked up, not one that was on your schedule. You should have called out, you should have spent the morning with Ilsa. Trudging back inside, Ilsa found herself on the verge of some kind of outburst. She'd been working for months to ensure that when she did finally meet you face to face, it would have been perfect. That meeting wasn't perfect, far from it. Instead of breaking something, instead of losing control of herself through anger, Ilsa went into work mode.

The past week had been spent moving things into the apartment, generating as much noise when you were home, and virtually none when you were away. Ilsa's move in was supposed to catch your attention. The furniture she brought in was supposed to be suited to your tastes, and the little door in between the two of your houses was supposed to be just a little too loose. But none of it had worked. You'd been too busy with work, too busy with picking up shifts and making a living to notice Ilsa's presence.

"Dammit." Ilsa swore, dropping onto the couch. "That's it, you're cutting back your work hours."

Ilsa logged into your employee portal, checking your schedule. She looked through all of the possible shifts you might sign up to take, manually hiding them in the computer system. You wouldn't be taking any bonus shifts at all this week, that much she was sure about. Once that was done, Ilsa looked into your bank account, trying to get to the bottom of why you were suddenly so desperate for money. Your savings account was nearly bone dry, and your checking account had less than 50 pounds in it. You were suffering, that much was clear. Ilsa opened a different file, routing you a check through several of her various accounts. It took a little over an hour to ensure the 'welfare grant' would go through, but once she was finished, Ilsa felt more confident. Within the next few days, a check worth £450 would slide through your mailbox, a check that would provide you some padding until your next paycheck.

"Princess, you should know I'll always take care of you." Ilsa chuckled.

<------------->

"(Reader), can you pick up my shift tomorrow?" one of your coworkers asked. "I have a doctor's appointment."

You sighed. You'd been working for the past six days without a break. A slew of 9 hour shifts that were wearing you down.

"How many hours is it?"

"It's a 6 hour shift."

On your day off? If you didn't need the damn money.

"I'll think about it." you sighed. "Let's just get today over with.

The rest of the shift dragged on. You finished it with tired feet, a sore back and a nasty headache. The bus ride sucked. Some old man tried to engage you in a conversation about Brexit, blatantly ignoring your physical and verbal cues that told of your lack of interest. By the time you made it past your garden gate and into your house, you found that you had little patience for any more bullshit. No bullshit appeared. Hopping in the shower, you tried not to cry, but you were miserable. It had been a shitty week, and it was getting harder and harder to stay afloat with the various expenses that came at the end of the month.

From her bird's eye view of your house, Ilsa sighed as she watched you cry. You were trying so hard, she knew that to be true.

"Princess, go to sleep." Ilsa whispered.

After toweling yourself off and throwing on pajamas you'd worn for the past four days, you dropped into a deep sleep, neglecting your special vitamins. Ilsa used the pocket door that connected your apartments, quietly sliding into your bedroom. She didn't dare climb into bed with you, for that you'd most certainly wake. Instead she held your hand, whispering subliminal messages as you slept.

"Lisa is a good woman. Your next door neighbor is helpful and kind. Lisa will take care of you. Lisa wants to be close to you." Ilsa whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your ear before she left.

<------------->

Waking up after the shitshow that was the past week felt like taking a long gasp of air after holding your breath for a century. You woke up refreshed, with more energy than normal. Putting on the last clean outfit in your closet, you made up your mind to clean your room. A soft knock came on your door at about half past three. It was the woman from yesterday morning... Was it Lisa.

"Hi, nice to see you again." you smiled, trying to be courteous. "Sorry for the clipped introduction, yesterday was a shit show."

The woman laughed.

"No of course, I understand. I came by to invite you over. I'm having a housewarming party today at 7, you're more than welcome to attend."

You nodded, a little surprised to be receiving an invitation.

"Oh, well thank you." you nodded, and then sensing the awkwardness, "I'm (Reader), by the way."

Lisa smiled, nodding once.

"I'll see you then." she smiled, and her blue eyes sparkled.

She waved goodbye, as did you. A party. Jesus, you hadn't been to a party in ages.

<------------->

The timing for the party needed to happen perfectly. The people Ilsa had brought in were all old friends of the MI6, plus some new acquaintances in town. All of them mixed together in what Ilsa hoped would be a welcoming, rambunctious group where alcohol intake would make sense. By the time you showed up to the party, it needed to be lively. Thus the time for everyone else was 6:15.

"Ilsa, how are you!" one of her former coworkers smiled, hugging the brunette tight.

"It's Lisa, you dumb shit." Ilsa whispered back.

"That's what I said." he shrugged.

The party was a chore for Ilsa, up until her favorite little project knocked on the door. Gesturing in the flustered looking woman, Ilsa was quick to engage her in the party. Drinks were going around plentifully, card games and food up for grabs. It was a party worth showcasing. Bit by bit, moment by moment, Ilsa watched as her little neighbor warmed up to everyone. Wine, cider and mixed cocktails softened (Reader), and Ilsa was delighted to see how well everyone meshed. Slowly but surely, members began to leave, partygoers headed home.

"Lisa, thank you, this was lovely." you smiled. "But I'm almost sure I have work in the morning."

Ilsa smiled softly, her face twitching slightly. You didn't have work tomorrow, of course you didn't, she'd checked. No, you were looking for an out.

"Almost sure?" Ilsa teased.

Her final colleagues waved goodbye, and Ilsa waved back. But you, you weren't going anywhere.

"Yes." you nodded.

Ilsa didn't wait until the door had shut. You were trying to leave, and she wouldn't have that. Grabbing your waist loosely, Ilsa pulled you in for a soft hug, dragging her nails down your back.

"Sleep well, then." Ilsa husked into your ear.

Surely that hadn't been intentional, you thought. The party had been wonderful, and Lisa had remained more or less glued to your side, ensuring that you mixed well with her friends, you'd assumed. But the hug was forward. You'd just met. Even being invited to the party had seemed informal, almost too relaxed. And as the woman whispered so suggestively in your ear, you wondered if it had been her intention the entire night to hit on you.

"Thank you." you cleared your throat.

Her eyes were half-lidded, and the nice button up she'd chosen had about one too many buttons undone.

"You sure you don't want another drink? I have barely a quarter bottle of wine left, no sense storing it for later."

Looking into her eyes as she drew soft patterns over your back made few things certain. You no longer knew if you wanted to go home, if you wanted to finish the night alone, if you wanted to kindly reject the woman's advances. But one more drink couldn't hurt, right?

"Sure. Just to finish it."

Lisa smiled, pouring you both a glass. You noticed that she had a rather heavy hand, but you didn't mind. Her taste in wine was good, if a bit strong.

"To a new chapter as neighbors." Lisa smiled.

"Indeed." you smiled, touching your glasses together.

You'd taken barely two sips of wine before Lisa made a move. Her hands were on your waist, and she was swaying to music with you. Draping your arms around her neck felt like second nature.

"Sinatra?" you asked.

"Who else?" Lisa smiled.

She was light on her feet, and her hands dragged up and down your back as you danced. The music took a more romantic turn, and with that came more sensual dancing. Lisa cradled your head with one hand, holding you flush against her with the other arm around your waist.

"You know... I've met few people in my life who have struck me as you have.." Lisa smiled. ".. Such a busy girl."

You blushed. It was impossible not to be flustered at this proximity.

"Just trying to make a living." you shrugged.

"A hard worker, how attractive." Lisa purred. "Perhaps you should take a night off, live a little."

The sway of the music, the alcohol, the way she looked at you, it was all too difficult to resist.

"I think I will."

Lisa smiled, bringing her lips in to meet yours. The kiss was perfect, sensual, a little spicy. Her hand massaged your scalp, pressing her hips against yours as she teasingly nibbled on your lips. The kiss deepened further, and you allowed her to softly make-out with you, her tongue sliding over yours in a wine-tainted dance of desire and lust. Her kisses trailed lower, finding your neck. This was moving too fast, you could feel your control slipping.

"I don't do drunk hook-ups." you gasped, still leaning into her kisses, your body incapable of catching up with your higher brain's desire for rationality.

"Then get sober." Lisa answered, nibbling at your neck.

It was too much, too soon. You gently pulled away from your drunk hostess, grabbing your jacket off the chair.

"Goodbye, Lisa." you whispered, rushing out of her house.

Ilsa was left with flush cheeks, smeared lipstick and her shattered expectations. This time, this particular mishap, Ilsa didn't hesitate to break something. Going into the basement, Ilsa broke the various wine bottles on the concrete floor, beating her punching bag until her wrists ached, until the bag split. You were supposed to be in her arms right now, you were supposed to be raking those gentle hands into her scalp as she sucked and licked at your clit. She was supposed to be tying you up as you begged to be able to touch her, Ilsa was supposed to be burying the strap she'd bought into your aching pussy, watching as your legs spasmed at the spread. Ilsa screamed in anger, rushing to her desk, looking for some kind of sign that you were as affected as she was.

The cameras into your home showed you taking a shower. Nothing sexy, nothing pretty, just you showering. And then you had the audacity to go to bed without taking your meds. Ilsa snarled, slamming her hands on her desk. She needed some kind of show for the progress she had made, and if she couldn't have you tonight, she was going to get as close as possible.

Bella meowed when she barged into your house. She was still an agent, she still moved quietly, but in her haste the movements she made were sloppy. Ilsa didn't stop to feed the cat, no, she ran right up the stairs, syringe in hand. It was a sedative of a higher dose than the meds she had you normally taking. She was on the verge of doing something irrational, that much Ilsa was aware of. The needle was in your neck before your brain had time to process the presence of the intruder, the hand against your skull.

"Princess, how dare you." Ilsa seethed, the vein on her forehead bulging dangerously.

She flipped your unconscious form on your back, kissing and biting at your neck furiously, marking you up impatiently.

"This wasn't the plan, Ilsa panted. "You absolute..."

Ilsa held back the insult. It was her fault, obviously. She just hadn't used the right groups of people. No, she'd been too forward, too vague with the subliminals. But after the months she'd put into learning your schedule, Ilsa didn't have the patience left to be slow with you anymore, not when she'd worked for three weeks evicting the next door neighbor who'd lived there for the past decade. Too far didn't exist to her at this point, not when she'd learned you so well, not when she'd exhausted her resources to the point of settling into the townhome next to you.

"Princess, you're coming back with me tonight." Ilsa whispered.

Hauling you over her shoulder felt like breathing freely after an hour of breath hold training. Bringing you into her house through the shared door felt like her first successful mission in a decade. Dropping you onto her bed and tying you there by your wrists felt more rewarding than capturing a terrorist. Ilsa collapsed in her bed beside you and began to laugh. She kicked off her shoes, pulling off her pants. She pressed her face into your neck, inhaling your scent as she pulled her panties down, furiously rubbing her fingers over her clit.

"Enough is enough, princess, you're mine now. And they'll never find you.

Tags: @lakita-fisher, @ilovehotactresses

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

Gentle Hands

Ilsa Faust x Fem! Reader

NSFW 18+- MINORS WHO INTERACT CAN AND WILL BE BLOCKED.

Summary: What happens when a dangerous spy gets disavowed? She goes right back to her roots. It’s unfortunate that those roots land her into a months long obsession with the current tenant of her childhood home.

Warnings: Yandere/Stalker Ilsa- Non-consensual watching of intimate activities, clothes stealing (panty stealing), non-con touching of non-sexual areas, masturbation (Reader and Ilsa)

A/N: I do not condone this behavior in real life. This is a character study, get OFF my ass. <3

Word Count: 2.0K

[Told from Ilsa's POV, third person.]

It was normal, to be this involved in someone’s life, certainly. If everyone had the skills that Ilsa did they would do what Ilsa did. This girl, this (Reader), she was interesting. Unusually so. She'd done good things to Ilsa's childhood town home. There were plants everywhere, and the windows no longer fogged over in the winter, which meant she'd probably renovated the old town home herself. Or perhaps the landlords had changed. Ilsa didn't look into those details; those were boring, useless details. What was more interesting than the renovations was the person who continued to spruce up the home. Fresh wallpaper had been put up the day Ilsa had knocked on the door. Ilsa remembered this very clearly, using her proficiency for keen detail retainment to remember the day vividly.

Fall leaves clung to the stone pathway that led up to the town home. Ilsa knocked on the door of her childhood home, fully prepared for any sort of introduction, any sort of grumpy old geezer swinging the door open and letting out a tired 'What are ya ringing the door bell for, love?'. But that wasn't what happened.

'Hiya, how can I help you?' a soft voice asked, opening the door to reveal a kind looking young woman.

'Hi, I'm Ilsa Auster, I used to live here. I wanted to take a look around the old house for a moment, check to see if anyone I knew still lived here.' Ilsa softly explained.

The young woman smiled back.

'Oh, I see. My name is (Reader). I'm afraid I don't recognize you or know too much about the previous tenants.'

'I wouldn't expect you to, this was years ago, you see.' Ilsa smiled thinly.

The young woman seemed to pause for a moment, deciding on something.

'Well if you'd like to come in and have a cup of tea, you're more than welcome to.' she offered, so sweet.

Ilsa had come in for tea. She'd seen the freshly wallpapered living room, smelled the drying paint, and she'd run her fingers along the new countertops the new landlord had installed. You were sweet to Ilsa the entire time, giving her the little information you had about Simon Faust, the elderly gentleman that had passed on from complications related to kidney failure, as well as a few tenants in between. The tea you served was made the proper English way, with loose tea leaves in a metal tea strainer, left to steep in a pot for five minutes while Ilsa had chatted with you. The sugar cubes you offered were sickly sweet, just like you. None of it would have made Ilsa do what she did next, none of it would have been something she'd dwell on at all, had you not touched her.

You'd given a soft squeeze to her shoulder as you bade her farewell at the door. A tender touch, full of trust, goodwill, kindness. Not too many people trusted Ilsa enough to touch her like that. In her line of work people didn't touch. A hand for support, a brief handshake for introduction, but mostly punches, slaps; hands wielded like weapons to leave bruises at the bare minimum, to end her life in the extremes. A kind touch was unheard of in her past life. With one small gesture, you had given Ilsa a taste of the life she'd given up working for MI6. It was this touch that ruined her; that made her ravenous for more.

That's why she was in front of her computer, browsing the cameras she'd placed inside your home. Hundreds of cameras to capture you from every angle as your hands worked. Those hands, petting your cat, watering your plants, cooking dinner (breakfast, lunch), touching anything and everything in that gentle way of yours. Those hands that soaped up your body in the shower, scrubbing yourself clean after a long day, those hands that lingered in the valley of your breasts and over the soft expanse of your stomach and roved over your bare thighs.

Those hands.

Tonight Ilsa was in for her favorite treat. You were tired, shifting uncomfortably, but not quite satisfied with something about yourself. Ilsa opened up a period recording app, tracking your cycle. She'd set this up this early on. It was interesting how predictable your behavior was in relation to your cycle; fascinating, truly. She smirked with glee. You were ovulating tomorrow. No wonder you were so uncomfortable.

'Feeling extra uptight, princess?' Ilsa whispered as she watched you squirm. 'Gonna give me a show?'

You gave in after five minutes. Phone down, reaching into your bedside table, bringing out that tiny little vibrator of yours that you adored. Ilsa had seen you use it a few times, but you used it most frequently during this window of heightened hormonal activity. You browsed on your phone, bringing up a cute little story. One of your 'fanfictions'. Ilsa could open your phone's software and see what you were reading if she really wanted to, but she didn't. Not now, anyways. She watched in excitement as you pulled your pajama pants down your legs, underwear too. Ilsa bit her lip. If you were taking them off all the way, this was going to be a good show.

The vibrator buzzed quietly. She watched in anticipation as you placed it against your clit, the soft gasp when you did.

'Princess, I might need to join in on this.' Ilsa smirked, crossing and uncrossing her legs.

You swiped through your phone reading avidly as the buzz continued. Your hips would wriggle a little, and you'd let out a soft 'hmm' or a breathy 'hihch' every once in a while, but that was it. Ilsa knew you weren't vocal. No, you were quiet. Ilsa shifted in her seat as you increased the vibrator's speed. She watched breathlessly as you seemed to be getting more into whatever you were reading.

'Oh, princess, now I know you're the quiet type, but you're putting on a show.' Ilsa whispered to the screen, eyes dilated.

She watched as your eyes rolled back and you panted quickly, going rigid for a few moments and then relaxing. The vibrator was back in the drawer before Ilsa had taken her jeans all the way off.

"No, damn it!' Ilsa slammed her fist on her desk. 'You're not playing fair, we're supposed to do it together!'

She watched as you walked into the bathroom, sitting on the toilet and peeing. Ilsa groaned, slapping her mouse on the pad, browsing through her stored videos. She found her favorite of you, the shower video. It was sixteen minutes long, eye candy for the intense voyeur that Ilsa had become. The setting of the video was sensual. You were in your shower, and you'd set up candles, a singular soft light illuminating the otherwise candlelit bathroom. Your hair was tied up to prevent it getting wet, and all your movements were slow. You started out carefully, using that expensive bar soap you'd bought, lathering up your arms and legs, moving slowly. Ilsa groaned at the sight, pulling her panties down her legs, running her thumbs up and down her inner thighs.

You reached for that special scrub you bought, the expensive shit. She watched as you exfoliated, paying special attention to your breasts and your ass. Ilsa moaned at the sight, starting to rub slow circles around her clit. You rinsed the scrub off, shaving your legs and your armpits. Ilsa moved her fingers slightly faster as she watched, you were propping your legs up one at a time, and that angle was spectacular. Ilsa felt herself moving too close to orgasm too quickly, so she moved her fingers down, circling her entrance, dipping her fingers in carefully. She didn't want to orgasm yet, not when the main act was just starting.

Ilsa watched in silent awe as you reached for the shower head. It was new, another addition you'd added sometime ago, before Ilsa. You carefully adjusted the setting until the pulse of water was thin and violent. Your water pressure was too high, so you unscrewed the shower head just a titch. One leg on the shower ledge, the other straight, albeit barely bent, and when the water hit your clit just right, you allowed yourself to moan. Ilsa let out her own breathy moan in response, her fingers rubbing that spongey spot inside her while she used her other hand to rub her clit. She bit her lip as she watched your thighs shake, one of your hands slamming against the shower wall, keeping yourself up. Finally, it happened. You let out a soft series of gasps and whines, your leg shaking as you came.

The sight of that, the sound, the angles of the cameras, it was enough to get Ilsa orgasming. She let out her own quick pants and soft moans as she rubbed her clit furiously, working herself through that high. The video ended with you gently running a softer stream of water between your labia, rinsing everything clean.

'Divine.' Ilsa let out a breathy chuckle.

Flipping tabs, Ilsa returned to checking up on you, skimming the video feed. You hadn't done anything interesting in the sixteen minutes she'd been replaying your best performance yet. You'd done a few housekeeping things such as returning to clean your vibrator, remake the bed, change your panties.

Your panties.

Ilsa switched cameras, zooming on them. They were soaked, caused by ovulation no doubt. Ilsa bit her lip, envisioning just how wet they would feel in between her fingertips. You looked tired, throwing the panties into your laundry basket. Your exhaustion was to be expected. Ilsa had ensured that you would always be ready to sleep at a set time; she'd switched your vitamins you'd take at night with sleep aids. You wouldn't know the difference, they looked the same as your iron pill, and you weren't tasting them to know the difference.

Ilsa smiled, pulling up her pants, grabbing the key she'd had made for your home. You were a silly girl, leaving that spare key in the flowerpot for when your Mom came over. It was a three hour errand to go to the locksmith, and no one ever asked a polite English lady about why the key was a spare instead of the original.

She slipped into your house through the back door, walking nonchalantly. Your neighbors didn't pay attention to who you had over anyways. Ilsa had talked to them a few times. They smoked too much weed to remember her, asking for her name everytime. Upon slipping in, she fed your cat a small treat. The 'Temptations' kind.

'Gonna stay quiet for me pretty girl? Yes you are.' Ilsa whispered, petting the cat until she purred, leaving a few treats to keep her occupied.

Slipping up the stairs, Ilsa quietly walked into your room, smiling at your slumbering face. Opening your closet, she grabbed those still wet panties, rubbing her fingers over the slick. Ilsa pocketed them. Ditsy girl you were, always forgetting which pairs of underwear you'd worn and which ones you hadn't. Ilsa creeped up to your bed, touching your sleeping form. You were too sleepy to notice, with your special pill and all.

'Hi princess. Don't you know better than to tease me like that? Your performance today wasn't all that stimulating.' Ilsa quietly cooed.

Taking your limp body in her arms, Ilsa was tempted to touch your new pair of panties, to see if they were wet, but she felt like that wasn't necessary. Besides, she wanted you to be awake the first time you two were together. She wasn't into fucking people when they were asleep; Ilsa didn't like how quiet they were. Besides, she'd already gotten off today. Ilsa decided on pulling you into her lap, cradling you quietly. She took one of your hands in hers, squeezing gently.

'Love these hands. Such gentle hands you've got.'

Ilsa kissed your face softly, but not your lips. No, she wanted you to be awake for that. She wanted you to remember Ilsa when she finally decided to make her move. But it wasn't time for that yet. Ilsa simply wasn't finished making the perfect person for you to love.

<----------------------------->

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

ok remember that funny time when i did the biting request? hear me out now, muzzle. do with that what you will :3

- 🦊💕

Yes! I’m still working on the biting request but this one is a little shorter so I’m posting it first.

“Mamaaaaa!” You whined, rubbing your face with your paws and against the carpet, trying to get the dark black muzzle off.

“Puppy,” Wanda chided, grabbing you by the wrist and hauling you upwards. From how you were acting, you’d think she’d put you in a saw trap. It was a far stretch from the softest and most comfortable muzzle she could find at the store. “You’re going to hurt yourself. Cut it out.” She was firm, but not unkind despite having wrestled with you for almost half an hour about this now.

“Mama, I don’t wanna wear it!” You pouted, yanking your paws out of her grip and crossing your arms over your chest. You schooled your face into a sneer, ears pitifully sagging from the top of your head.

“Awww, baby,” she cooed, scratching behind your droopy ears. “Don’t give me that look. It’s just for the party. There’s gonna be a lot of people here, and sometimes when we excited by all the people we can get a little bitey, can’t we?”

“That was one time!” You grumbled. Wanda shot you an amused glare. You turned away, shifting uncomfortably. “And the other… couple of times.”

“You can take it off as soon as everyone leaves. It will only be for a little while, I promise,” Wanda reassured. “And we’re still gonna have so much fun.”

You pouted grumpily, continuing to look unconvinced. You refused to even look at her.

“Natty and Bowie are gonna be there, and Yelena and Kate are bringing Franny,” Wanda explained, trying to cheer you up.

You sat in unamused silence, seething and angry like a defiant toddler. You didn’t even bark when the doorbell rang. You just stayed firmly planted on the couch.

“That’s Nat and Bowie right now! Come on let’s go give Natty a hug. Just this once I’ll ever let you jump on her, yeah?” Wanda said, trying to get you up off the couch.

You huffed, not budging.

“Alright, suit yourself,” Wanda sighed, leaving you to stew while she greeted the guests.

You were still sat in the same position 5 minutes later, when Natasha came into the living room.

“Oh, there’s my favorite puppy,” she said, sitting down next to you. “What’s got your tail in a knot?”

“Mama’s being mean…” you grumbled. “She’s makin me wear a muzzle!” You leaned on Natasha, crawling into her lap.

“Oh,” Natasha cooed sympathetically. “That is very mean. I bet she’s the meanest mama in the whole world.”

“Yeah!” You pouted, curling up against Natasha’s chest.

“Well,” she started, rubbing your back in soothing circles, “since she’s the worst mama in the whole world, you probably wanna come home with me and Bowie, right? You wouldn’t want to snuggle with that mean old mama, would you?”

She felt you tense as you looked up at her. There was a slight crack in your resolve.

“We can set up a crate for you, since there’s no puppies on the bed at my house, and you can sleep all by yourself. No mean mamas allowed. You wouldn’t have to worry about slimy goodnight kisses, or silly little bedtime songs, or anything else,” she continued.

You froze starting to think you’d made a mistake. Still you didn’t speak up.

When Wanda walked in the room a moment later, Natasha started to scold her. “Wanda! How dare you make this poor angel wear this… torture device. Clearly they need to be removed from your home immediately. From now on, they’ll be living with me, right puppy?”

“B-but…” you started to protest. You look to Wanda, staring at her for a long moment before reaching your arms out for her to pick you up. “I’m sorry, mama! Please don’t send me away.”

“Aww,” Wanda chuckled, pulling you into her arms and carrying you on her hip. She kissed your forehead and rested your head on her shoulder. “You’re okay puppy. You’re not going anywhere. You’re stuck with mama’s snuggles and slimy kisses until the end of time.”

You sniffled into her neck. “Are you mad at me? For being a bad puppy earlier?”

Wanda laughed and rested her head on top of yours. “You’re not a bad puppy,” she assured you, rocking you gently. “You’re my good puppy. A very very silly puppy sometimes, but you’re my very silly puppy. And not even Natty can have you. You’re all mine.”

She smothered your head in kisses, making you squirm and wiggle in her arms. “Now, go have Bowie help you get your toys ready. Your friends are gonna be here soon.”

She set you down, winking at Natasha and mouthing a ‘thank you’ before patting your bottom and sending you off to prepare for the party.

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

Mean emo!Wanda forcing you into a double ended dildo and holding your hips down while she fucks herself on the other end.

"God, you feel so good, baby. Can you feel that? Can you feel me fucking myself on your dick? Yeah? I bet you wanna cum, huh?"

"P-please... I-"

She chokes you suddenly, her hand wrapped tight around the sides of your throat."

"Did I say you could fucking speak? No, I didn't. Lie there and be quiet like a good little toy."

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

We Never Argue

Elizabeth Olsen x Fem Reader

Warnings: Not really any other than Lizzie trying to cause an argument but failing

AN: Just another one shot from my wattpad account. Im sorry I haven't quite been motivated to write anything new in a while guys

18+ MINORS DNI

Y/N pov

When I came home from work this morning I saw my beautiful fiancé and scarlett both sitting in the sofa with some coffee. I had just come home from doing a night shift at the station and I am tired. I go into the kitchen to get myself a beer out of the fridge since technically its my evening now. I walk into the living room and sit down next I Lizzie.

"Hey baby." I said as I kissed her cheek.

"Hi love bug." She said as she pressed a gentle kiss to my lips.

"Oh hi Scar, it's so good to see you." Scarlett said sarcastically making both lizzie and I laugh.

"Oh hi Scar, would you like a welcome kiss too?" I teased her with a smirk which resulted in Lizzie playfully slapping my arm laughing. "So what brings you here?"

"Oh just Colin being an obnoxious twat. All we seem to do now is argue even over the smallest thing." She said as she took a sip of her coffee. "Anyway isn't it too early to be drinking. Its only 9am."

"Well I just finished work and I dont start my shift until 8pm tonight." I said taking a sip of my beer which she just nodded.

"How do you guys do it?" She asked us both as we just looked at each other.

"Do what?" Lizzie and I said in unison looking at Scarlett.

"You know, you guys have the perfect relationship. I don't think I've ever known you to argue. Well lizzies never complained about you." Scar said as she looked between us.

"Well I don't know really." Lizzie said with a smile.

"I just guess we have a very strong understanding of each other. We both understand the importance of our jobs and we both try to put a lot of effort into our relationship." I said truthfully.

"I don't follow." Scar said making me chuckle.

"Well, I know pretty much all of her tells, like of she's irritated at something so I just tend to give her her favourite anchovies on toast. It always makes her feel better even if it does taste horrible." I said with a smile.

"It doesn't taste horrible." Lizzie said with a small pout.

"Well each to their own I guess." I said as I gave her a sweet kiss making her smile.

"See that right there. It was like a little disagreement. If you didn't watch that whole interaction with you two you wouldn't have thought you dissed her favourite snack." Scar said as she slightly bounced in her seat.

"I just guess we can't argue." Lizzie said with a shrug.

"That's sickening." Scar said with a scowl making us both laugh. "How about we make it a threesome?" She said jokingly.

"I think im good. I have the woman I need right here." I said as I looked at lizzie.

"Well I'm going home because I can't stand to be in the same room as you're perfect relationship anymore." She said with a huff. "Well I'll see you guys later." We both watched as she walked herself out of our house.

"Do you think it's normal that we never argue?" Lizzie asked as she turned to face me

"Yeah, I guess. I just like to think that we're soul mates." I told her as I finished my beer. "Well I'm going to get a shower and sleep OK baby." I gave her a soft kiss before heading up to our bathroom.

Lizzie's pov

I just watched as my fiancé walked upstairs to our room. Is it normal that we don't argue. I just dont really know. Pretty much every couple I know argue at least 5 times in their relationship but we haven't argued once. So I got the crazy idea that when she goes to work tonight I'm going to do some things to try and cause an argument for when she comes home tomorrow. So for the rest of the day I plotted in my head what I could do to make her mad. So I decided to hide away all of her beer out of the fridge in the cupboard under the stairs knowing that will be the first thing she will go for in the morning. As I was running around like a mad woman I didn't hear Scar make her way into our house.

"Whatcha doing?" She asked curiously.

"I don't know. Its just that every couple I know has arguments and we don't seem to have any. Whenever we have a small disagreement it doesn't really count as arguing because in the end she always agrees with me." I told her which just made her laugh. "Would you be quiet she's still asleep."

"Oh sorry, what time does she wake up?" She asked me making me check the time.

"Shit. She'll be in the shower now. I best start dinner. Would you like to stay?" I ask her as we both make our way into the kitchen.

"Yeah sure. I think I might just stay tonight. I want to see what happens in the morning." She said with a smirk making me chuckle. I decided on doing some pasta today, something simple and filling so she's energised for work.

"Mmm that smells gorgeous love." Y/N said as she wrapped her arms around my waist. I naturally leaned back into the touch as she pressed a kiss to my neck.

"Well I hope it tastes as good as it smells." I said with a smirk as i started to plate it up.

"Why is there three plates. Do we have company?" She asked me. Both scarlett and I laugh because she literally walked past her and didn't realise Scar was here. When she shot her head around Scar just done a small wave to her.

"I honestly don't know how your a detective when your not very observant." Scar said with a smirk.

"Well I'm sorry that my first thought after I wake up is to see my beautiful fiancé." She said with a smile making me blush. Lucky I was facing away from them to notice.

"Well dinner is served so stop bickering children." I told them both as I sat there plates in front of them. The three of us all ate in a comfortable silence while I kept thinking of ways to make her argue with me. As soon as we had all finished Y/N went upstairs to finish getting ready for work. She keeps her gun holster in her safe underneath our bed. I know the code to it incase I need to use the spare that's in there whenever she's at work. She taught me how to shoot it on our fourth date and let me tell you. The way she held my waist and guided my arms to help with aim as well as her breathing on my neck. Well let me tell you that was our first time together, and it was the best sex I ever had. I made her sandwiches and handed it to her as she was on her way out.

"I'll see you tomorrow my love." She said as she gave me a kiss. "I love you mi amor."

"I love you too baby. Be safe." I said as I watched her walk out the door and get in her car. When i returned to the kitchen to clean up Scar was already doing it.

"Hey thats my job." I told her as I crossed my arms across my chest.

"Well I'm doing it so take the night off." She told me as she splashed me.

Then I remembered the perfect way for her to argue, I already got rid of her beer the only other thing she loves to have when she comes home is cuddles off me. "So what else do you plan on doing to try and make her mad?" Scar asked as she dried her hands grabbing the wine and two glasses.

"Well she her love language is touch." I said with a smirk.

"Ok I don't need that picture in my head." Scar said before I could finish making me laugh.

"No not that you dirty minded fucker. I'm not gonna give her her morning cuddles." I said with a smile.

"Really, that's the best you can come up with. What happened to hiding her favourite hoodie. Smashing her favourite cup or hiding her xbox." She said with an unimpressed look.

"Well I already stole her favourite hoodie. And I can't smash her favourite cup or hide her xbox because that's just mean." I said as I glared at her for suggesting it.

"Well try and give her the silent treatment when she comes home. She'll soon get pissed off wondering what she did wrong." She told me making me realise that is perfect.

"You're right. That is genius thank you Scar." I told her as I gave her a bone crushing hug.

"I really can't wait for tomorrow now." She said with a smirk.

We both decided it was time to call it a night. When I woke up the next morning, I was excited to see if she would argue. Both scarlett and I sat on the sofa watching some TV while having a coffee waiting for Y/N to come home. And right on cue she comes home and goes straight to the fridge. I'm trying hard to keep a stoic expression on my face.

"Love, did you guys finish the beer last night?" She asked as she walked up behind the sofa. I just ignored her while scarlett had a smirk on her face. "It's OK I can just buy some more. I hope you girls had fun last night."

I was really struggling at keeping a straight face. She doesn't seem to want to argue at all. So I'm guessing it's the silent treatment.

"Did you guys have breakfast already?" She asked as she sat down in a chair with a cup of coffee.

"Yeah, we woke up pretty early this morning." Scar said matter of factly

"Ok, well I'm going to get a shower ok love." She said as she came over to give me a kiss which I turned my head and she caught my cheek instead. She just shrugged her shoulders and went up stairs.

"Why won't she argue?" I asked scarlett clearly frustrated by my perfect fiancé.

"I don't know. It seems like she just really loves you." She told me quietly.

"Even the silent treatment isn't working?" I said as I ran my hands through my hair.

"Well maybe I don't know. Well I'm going to go home now and silently envy your relationship." She said which made me chuckle as she made her way over to the door. I made my way into the kitchen I didn't hear her come down until I felt her arms wrap around me. I almost melted into her touch but then I remembered the plan. I removed myself from her embrace and went to make a fresh pot of coffee.

"Love, have I done something wrong?" She asked with a furrowed brow. I just ignored her and carried on with my task. "Please mi amor, I can't fix it if I don't know what I did." I honestly started to feel bad making her feel like she done something to upset me. "Please tell me love, I've missed hearing your voice this morning. It's the best part of my day coming home to you."

I honestly melted and gave in at her words. So I decided to tell her the truth.

"We never argue like normal couples. I've been trying to get you to argue with me." I said as I walked to where I stashed the beer and gave her one. "I started by hiding your beer since I know you're a creature of habit and want one every morning after you finish your shift. But that didn't work obviously. So I thought the silent treatment would work but that didn't either. I just want to know why we don't argue." I had started to raise my voice at her without realising.

"Ok love, we don't argue because whenever we have a disagreement, we see it from the others perspective before it blows out of proportion. Like what your doing now." She said calmly as she made her way over to me.

"Just one heated argument is all I want so we could have amazing make up sex afterwards." I said with a slight blush.

"Well if you wanted amazing sex I could definitely help there." She said with a smirk.

"No I wanted make up sex. Its more exciting than normal sex." I told her as I walked away from her.

"Ok so what other ideas did you have to make us argue?" She asked me calmly.

"Well I thought about smashing your favourite mug." I said shyly.

"My thundercats mug." She said quietly. I watched as she moved to the cupboard where we keep our mugs and she handed me the mug. "I love you baby."

"I love you too." I told her softly.

"Oh no I was talking to the mug. I don't know how I'm gonna feel about you after you do this." She said waving her hands at me making me chuckle. I looked at the mug before I threw it the wall making it shatter. I watched her face change through so many different emotions. I was expecting a shouting match but I was surprised when she started crying. I quickly walked over to her and hugged her tightly.

"Shh it's ok. I'll get you another one." I whispered as I hugged her close.

"You can't they don't make them anymore." She said between sobs.

"Huh i guess we can't really argue." I realised as she just looked at me in disbelief.

"Really you couldn't have realised that before you murdered my mug." She said sternly which just made me chuckle as I kissed the top of her head.

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[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

So, I’ve been thinking a lot about stockings and high heel shoes and pantsuits and businesswoman and… 🥴😵‍💫🫠🫠

“I’m dirtying my favorite heels for you, puppy,” Wanda crooned. “What do you say?”

You knelt on the floor beside her desk chair, knees shoulder width apart and hands obediently behind your back. Unlike Wanda, who was fully clothed in a wine colored pantsuit, you were almost entirely naked, save for your underwear. The toe of Wanda’s pointed black heel ground against your clit, providing just enough friction to keep you panting and breathless.

Your mind was so muddled, you forgot to respond to her question. She grabbed your chin, letting her nails dig into your jaw. “Puppy…” she chided, “What do you say to mommy for rubbing her pretty heels on your dirty cunt?”

“Tha-thank you,” you stammered, whining and straining against her grasp. “Thank you mommy… for dirtying your heels on my… on my cunt.”

“That’s my good girl,” she said, releasing your chin. She leaned back in her chair, twirling her pen between her fingers as she watched you squirm beneath her.

You whined when she lifted her shoe away, almost daring to complain before you felt the pointy leather toe tap your chin. You tilted your head to look up at her.

“You’ve made a mess,” she stated plainly. She lifted the shoe higher placing it right in front of your face. “Clean it up.”

Your eyes went wide. “W-what?”

She tapped the leather against your lips, smearing a bit of your own excitement on your face. “You heard me. Clean. It. Up.”

Hesitantly, you stuck out your tongue, licking up the mess you’d left on her shoe.

“You can use your hands,” she said, watching you struggle to keep the shoe in place as you recklessly licked it clean.

You cradled the shoe with one hand, wrapping the other around her ankle to keep it still. When the shoe was clean, you lifted your head, silently begging for her approval.

She smiled and put her foot down, settling it back on the floor with a satisfying click. “Good girl,” she cooed, moving her now gentle hands to your hair.

She softly guided your head to rest on her knee, carding her hands through your soft hair. “Do you think you’ve been good enough to cum for mommy?”

You looked up at her pleadingly. You were already so worked up it would hardly take anything to make you cum. You tucked your face against her leg, giving her the best puppy dog eyes you could muster. “Please… please mommy… please let me cum. Please.”

“Aww,” she cooed, “But you just look so precious, all desperate and needy at your mommy’s feet. I’ll tell you what, I’ll let you fuck yourself on my shoe. And if you keep begging and crying for me, you can cum just like that, okay?”

You whined, but didn’t dare protest. Instead, you adjusted to straddle her leg, grinding yourself down against to toe of her shoe. You wrapped your arms around her leg, resting your head on her knee. “Mommy… mommy please… please let me cum… please I’m already so close please….”

“Sweet girl,” she hummed, running her hands through your hair. “You’re doing so good for me. Keep going just like that.” She bent forward, leaning in so close you could feel her breath hot against your ear. “And if you ruin my stockings, I’m stuffing them in your mouth while I fuck you over my desk.”

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

Mommy Wanda gripping your hair tightly while she fucks her strap up into your mouth, moaning every time you gag and making fun of you.

"You're such a fucking mess, you know that? Awww, look at you, drooling all over Mommy's cock."

"You look so pretty like this, you know. Mommy's perfect little slut, hungry for Mommy's strap. You want it deeper?"

"Don't cry, darling. You know that only makes me want to fuck you rougher. Oh... you want that, huh? Good girl."