xxxtwilightaxelxxx

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

SPOTTED

sue storm x fem!reader

wc: ~7.6k

ao3

summary: A picture of you and Sue winds up in the news leading everyone to think you’re together. You panic thinking she’ll be offended.

warnings: minor wounds and medical speak (if incisions gross you out, don’t read the paragraphs starting with “you designed a beautiful machine” and “not even a scar”), angst that gets resolved, some kissing, a little miscommunication, limited use of Y/N, reader lowkey has anxiety but it’s probably undiagnosed

notes: hate the title but oh well. another contribution to sue fics in the hopes that more people write for her. I wrote more than i thought I would again. i kind of hate the pacing but i don’t feel like fixing it so oops if the ending feels rushed.

The air outside is sticky, and the sun beating down on your back doesn't make it any more bearable. The heat distorts the busy sidewalks as you wind between people, doing your best to avoid making any physical contact with them. 

There are many things to be said about the city in the summer—that the foliage is beautiful, the streets are bright, the sky is always wearing its best shade of blue. You would never argue with anyone on those fronts, but those qualities don't exactly make up for the near oppressive heat that blankets the city at every waking hour. Thanks to the concrete on the ground and the tall buildings blocking off any airflow, temperatures easily reach into the 90s. Every time you step outside, no matter how long you're out there, you somehow find yourself drenched in sweat. You're itching for fall to come. 

During the weekend the streets are filled with city residents and tourists alike, all of them eager to soak up the sun. You try not to let the stuffy crowds dampen your mood, but almost nothing could raise your spirits in this weather. 

"If you keep making that face, it'll get stuck like that forever," Sue says, poking your cheek. 

"I feel like I'm melting," you complain, though you're smiling despite yourself. "Why are there so many people out? Don't they have jobs?"

"It's Saturday, babe," she answers you with a grin. 

"Okay, so get a side hustle." The heat makes you unreasonable.

"They're doing exactly the same as we're doing," she giggles. As you walk, people crane their necks to get a glimpse of The Invisible Woman. She smiles and politely nods at them, but says nothing. She interlocks her arm with yours and says, "Come on."

You allow her bare arm to touch your own as she pulls you off to the side, away from the flow of people. She's warm against you as she guides you towards the shade of a nearby florist shop. A worker stands a few feet away, holding a long nozzle attached to a hose that's misting the colorful flower arrangements displayed outside the shop. The combination of the water spray and the shade does well calm your nervous system.

"I need to get some flowers for the kitchen," she tells you while she looks at an arrangement of carnations and chrysanthemums. You remain attached to her. "Maybe some for my room too."

"Do you need anything, Miss Storm?" the worker asks once he notices who is standing in front of him. 

Sue smiles kindly before replying, "No thank you. We're just looking."

"If you need anything, please let me now." The man returns to watering the flowers, but he continues to steal glances at Sue while he does so. 

"Hello, Sue!" someone shouts as they pass by. 

"Great work last week, Sue!" another says. She turns her head and waves to them, and anyone else who passes by noticing her. 

There's a lot of things you like about Sue, but one of the main things is how gracious she is with everyone. You don't think you'd be able to handle the level of fame that comes with her job. You can't imagine everyone gaping at you while you walk down the street, or people addressing you as if they've known you your whole life. Everyone wants a piece of her, demands her time like it's owed to them. You'd go mad if that was you, but Sue handles it with a level of grace that you didn't know existed before you met her. 

"What do you think?" she hums, nudging you with her elbow.

"What?" you ask.

"Which arrangement?"

"Oh," you say as you take a closer look at the available flowers. "They all look the same to me, you know this. You have a much better eye than I do."

"I don't know," she begins, "you picked out a beautiful arrangement for my birthday."

You did pick out a rather nice set of flowers for the occasion. You'll never tell her but it took you hours to make your selections—the shop owner was practically begging you to just make a decision so she could close up for the night. Even though you looked at a book about flowers and their meanings beforehand, you still struggled to find anything that you liked. You wound up making a custom bouquet of yellow daisies, red gladiolas, and orange roses—it felt like the perfect combination of flowers to express your feelings about her. She adored them and placed them in a vase as soon as she received them. You dropped by that florist's shop a few days later and tipped her generously for putting up with you. 

"Those ones are nice," you say, pointing to a pink and orange arrangement.

"Yeah?" she asks before she nods in agreement. She flags down the man from earlier and requests the arrangement you pointed out. "I think I'll take the gardenias too, please."

You and Sue leave the florist, each holding a bundle of flowers—you with the gardenias and her with the orange and pink assortment. Your arms brush occasionally as you make your way to the Baxter Building a few blocks away. The heat hasn't let up, but the flowers are cool against your skin and you two are walking with more purpose than earlier. You were grabbing brunch at a little diner that you discovered together a few years ago, in the early days of your friendship. Brunch is now a weekly affair that's usually followed by meandering through the city, chatting about whatever comes to your mind. 

•••••••••

The blast of cool air is a welcome greeting when you walk into the Baxter Building. The receptionist, Barbara, looks up when she hears the door open. The sound of your and Sue's heels clicking against the glossy linoleum floors accompanies the sound of her typing.

"Hi, Barb," you greet as you pass the desk.

"Hi, girls," she smiles as she turns back to her computer. "Oh, Sue, I just sent a package up for you. It should be waiting for you when you get out of the elevator."

"Thank you, Barb," Sue says as she calls the elevator.

"A package? For what?" you ask. The doors open and you step in. Sue says nothing and presses the button for the penthouse. "Sue."

"You'll just have to wait and see," she smiles coyly and continues to look ahead. 

You're about to question her further when the doors open and she breezes out confidently, leaving you in a cloud of roses and something clean and airy that you attribute to her perfume. You follow her, noting the small package that she grabbed from the front table on her way to the kitchen. You suppose you won't pry if she doesn't want to share with you, but you can't help but wonder what it is and why she's being so tight lipped about it. Perhaps you're being ridiculous worrying about it; it's not like she has to share everything with you. There's still a pang in your chest knowing your best friend is hiding something from you—even if that thing is only barely bigger than your hand. 

In the kitchen, Herbie whirs appreciatively when he sees the flowers that you're both holding. He pushes an already prepared vase towards Sue, who already is cutting the stems to the orange and pink bouquet. You gently lay the gardenias down on the table. 

"Hi Herbie," you say, scratching his head. He presents a little dish of Swedish Fish to you. "Thanks, buddy. How'd you know I liked these?"

"I told him," Sue says affectionately as she puts the flowers in the vase. She takes a step back, "How does that look?"

"I like it," you say, holding a handful of candy up to your mouth. 

"I still don't know how you can eat those," Sue grimaces as she puts a hand on her stomach in disgust. "They're so sweet."

"That's the point," you laugh as you hold one up to her. She shrieks and turns away as you shrug. "More for me I guess."

"You can gladly have them." 

Sue pushes the vase towards the center of kitchen island and Herbie admires them from his spot next to you. She's about to say something else when she's interrupted by Johnny waltzing into the kitchen. 

"You two have a good date?" He grabs a piece of candy from the dish in front of you. Your stomach flips at his words, and you have to remind yourself that he's just teasing.

"It wasn't a date," she asserts as she turns to him. She leans against the counter and rests a hand on her hip.

"Sure it was," Johnny insists. "It was planned ahead of time, you sat down for it, and you never let the rest of us come along."

"That's because it's just for us girls."

"Exactly," he concludes. "Like a date."

"Do you need something, Johnny?" you ask, eager to put an end to the conversation. The guys have been teasing the two of you since you first started spending time together. Johnny could go on and on about it if you don't stop him. 

"Yeah. I'm here to kidnap you from Susie," he says, nodding at you. "We need a non-super guinea pig down in the lab again. We finally fixed the DermaHealer."

"No." Sue's reply is instant and firm. "I said no civilian tests."

"She's not a civilian," Johnny defends himself. "She's Y/N."

Reed and Johnny are in the process of developing a machine that will quickly heal any small lacerations without the use of stitches. It's meant to be placed in ERs around the world, starting with hospitals in Manhattan. As a linguistics professor at NYU, you have nothing else better to do during the summer holidays, so you agreed to help them test it out. You figured if you're going to hang around superheroes, you might as well rise to the occasion and do what you can. Also it can be fun, sometimes.

"It's not going to rearrange my internal organs again is it?" you ask, remembering what happened when they first tested their machine on you. The feeling of your organs sliding back into their rightful places was the weirdest experience ever. 

"No, that's been fixed. We just need to see if it works on something larger than a grape," Johnny says. He pauses before continuing, "Also Reed and I still feel really bad about that—"

"Good, you should," Sue cuts him off. 

"Sue, it's fine. I don't mind," you try to reassure her. She holds her hand up while she stares Johnny down like a hawk. Your mouth slams shut.

"Sue, I promise she'll be safe," Johnny assures with his hands out like he's taming a wild animal. "Please, we told Mount Sinai we'd have it ready by now. We wouldn't test it if it was dangerous."

She takes another look at you and then back to Johnny. "Fine. But if she ends up in the hospital again…"

Thank you, Sue!" Johnny takes your hand and drags you away before Sue can change her mind. You wave goodbye and thank Herbie again for the candy on your way out.

"What am I going to do with them, Herbie?" 

Herbie shrugs his arms in reply as Sue shakes her head. She grabs the gardenias off the table and walks towards the stairs so she can take them up to her room. 

"That is one scary woman," Johnny says once you're out of ear shot. "I wasn't sure if she was gonna let you go."

"Weren't you just saying, yesterday, how she wasn't the boss of you?" you ask him as the elevator takes you down two floors to Reed's brightly lit lab. 

"Yeah, but she's different when it comes to you. She cares more," he says simply. He jabs the button for Reed's lab a few times in a row, trying to get the elevator to move faster. 

Your brows furrow at what Johnny said—different could mean a lot of things, and of course Sue cares; she cares about everyone. You can't imagine how you're any different than anyone else in her mind. The only explanation to Johnny's words that you can come up with is that you have no powers. She did say no civilian tests after all—and, despite Johnny's protests, you are the very definition of a civilian no matter how close you've gotten to her family over the years. 

The same feeling that you get when the guys tease you and Sue about dating begins to bubble inside of you. They mean no harm by it, but you can't help but wonder how Sue feels about it. Is she able to decipher their words? Does her stomach skip weirdly every time she thinks about them like yours does? She's quick to end the teasing, but she's never outright told them to stop. You've known her for around six years now, and you'd like to think you're good at reading her, but there's still moments where she's just as elusive as the day you met. 

The doors open and you see Reed standing at his chalkboard, writing out equations that you can never decipher. Johnny exits excitedly with a fast pace as you follow behind him, a little slower. You look at the shiny equipment that's spread along every flat surface. Some things you recognize, like fancy microscopes, but most of the contraptions are foreign to you. Your knowledge of science stops at tenth grade chemistry and eleventh grade anatomy, both of which you barely managed to scrape by in. You were always much more skilled in the humanities. 

"Oh good," Reed says when he sees you walking towards him. "You managed to pry her away from Sue."

Reed ignores the way you frown as he takes you by the shoulders. He has you sit down on a stool in front of what looks like a small-scale X-ray scanner. Next to it, is a shiny tray with a suture kit on it—in case it fails again, you guess. He puts on a pair of gloves and grabs a q-tip before sitting down next to you. You look towards the machine, examining it.

"Looks good doesn't it?" Johnny is suddenly behind you, breathing down your neck.

"No, it's ugly," you say sarcastically, ducking out of the way. He gives an disgruntled huff before moving to stand between you and Reed. 

"It looks great, you know it," he says, puffing out his chest. You roll your eyes at him. 

"Yes, you designed a beautiful machine, Johnny," Reed says, humoring his excitement. He dips the q-tip into jar and continues, "I'm going to numb the area before I make the incision."

He takes your forearm and begins to apply the cream. He picks up a small scalpel next and looks at you, waiting for your go-ahead. When you nod, he makes a small incision on your arm. Johnny winces at the motion and you're thankful that Reed thought to use numbing cream because you're sure you would've passed out otherwise. 

You place your hand under the scanner and Reed switches the machine on. It lights up and begins to hum quietly. You feel a pressure on your arm as you watch the machine patch the deep cut seamlessly. In only a few moments, the angry red line where the incision was is nowhere to be seen. Johnny pumps his fist triumphantly and Reed sighs in relief. 

"Not even a scar," Reed says holding your arm up to examine it. "How do you feel?"

"Good," you say. "All my organs are still in place too."

Johnny holds his hand up to Reed for a high five, which isn't returned because Reed has already buried himself in a notebook to record his findings. Undeterred, Johnny swings his arm around to you and you slap your hand against his. 

"You're staying for dinner?" he asks as he picks up something that looks like a top. 

"Johnny put that down," Reed says, not looking up from his notebook. 

"I can't stay tonight," you say. "I've got an early morning."

Johnny doesn't say anything, but he gives you a look—like he knows you're lying. You always stay for dinner. You spend so much time in their home, and with Sue, that there's even a permanent spot at the dinner table reserved for you. You avoid his eye and look around the lab. For all of his energetic, and seemingly careless, personality Johnny is incredibly perceptive. To your relief, he doesn't push it though, and begins to talk about a girl he met at some coffee shop instead. 

•••••••••

Later that night, you find yourself unable to fall asleep. You toss and turn in your bed as your mind tries to make sense of all the ways that Sue might be "different" around you, and whether or not that's a good thing. You come up empty though, and are left with the same conclusion that you had earlier—which is that you have no powers. You can take care of yourself just fine around regular people, but maybe she worries about you being around them specifically. That explanation doesn't feel right though. Sue has never made you feel lesser for not having powers, none of them have. They're all happy to treat you like an equal, normal person as long as you extend to them the same courtesy. 

The clock next to your bedside table glows as you look at the time and see that it's well past midnight. You really do have an early morning tomorrow, and being up this late isn't ideal. Your friend, Alex, is starting as a professor in the fall semester and has never taught before, so she requested your assistance with her preparations. In your opinion, she's overqualified for the position and will do just fine, but you agreed to look over her syllabus and lesson plans anyway. 

You roll over and close your eyes, trying to push your troubled thoughts away. You still can't fall asleep though. However illogical it sounds, the concept of Sue finding you weak refuses to leave your brain, except now you fear she just finds you annoying because of it. She already has to worry about the safety of the entire city—maybe even the world—and you're probably only adding to the stress by being around her all the time. 

You think about all of the conversations you've had with her, and all of the times you laughed too loudly or talked too much. You cringe when you think of all the ridiculous jokes you've told her. It's a miracle she's stayed friends with you for as long as she has. 

"What am I doing?" you whisper into the quiet of your room. The muted sound of cars passing by finally lulls you to sleep. 

•••••••••

The next morning, you're walking in the direction of your office with bleary eyes. You had a fitful sleep with dreams of Sue telling you off for being too much of a burden. People watch you with questioning eyes as you walk along the sidewalk. You look down at your body thinking maybe in your sleepy haze you put your clothes on wrong, but you're fully dressed. The people look away as soon as you meet their eyes, but you can feel them turn back to you as you walk away. You smooth your hair down self consciously and run your tongue along your teeth to check for food in between them. Nothing.

You get to the building that holds the linguistics department's offices, and you scan you ID and go through the turnstile. The security guard that monitors the front desk is busy flipping through the morning paper. You trip over your feet as you do a double take when you watch him turn the page. You could've sworn you saw a flash of a familiar face. You look again but only see the crossword puzzle. You should've gotten more sleep last night.

The floor that your office is on is quiet and deserted, and there are only a few lights on. The door to your office is already propped open with light spilling from it. Alex is sitting in one of the chairs in front of your desk, reading the same paper that the security guard was reading downstairs. She pulls her head out from behind it when she hears your muted footsteps against the carpeted floors. 

"You didn't tell me you were seeing someone, much less Sue Storm!"

"What are you talking about?" You set your bag down next to your desk and drop the blinds enough to block the rising sun.

"This," she says as she tosses the paper onto your desk. She spins it around so you can read it from where you stand.

Your eyes bulge when you read the bold headline:

IS A NEW ROMANCE BLOOMING FOR OUR FAVORITE SUPERHERO? Summer's not the only thing in the air as Sue Storm is seen out and about with a mystery woman. We have no word on the identity of the lucky lady who captured Storm's heart, but the two looked happy as they shopped for flowers at a local florist in Midtown. Some claim to have seen the pair around the city before, but it is unclear how exactly they know each other. One thing that is clear, however, is how close they appeared, with Storm's arm linked to this mystery woman's arm throughout the entire visit. For more on our favorite family's dalliances check page 13.

There's a large picture of you and Sue from yesterday while you were at the florist. It's grainy, black and white resolution makes it difficult to fully make out the entire scene, but viewers are able to see each of your faces and linked arms clear as day. Your friend turns the page to another set of photos from yesterday. In one of them, your arm is linked to Sue's as you walk down the street while Sue directs a dazzling smile at you. 

"What the hell is this?" you blurt out, not believing your eyes. Suddenly everyone staring at you this morning makes sense. 

"You tell me," Alex says, taking the paper back. "You're the one in the picture."

"I had no idea those were even being taken," you say. 

"I think that's the point of these kinds of pictures," she states with an amused smile. 

"I don't even know where to start," you say after a moment. "Put that away, I can't look at it anymore."

"I think I'll frame it."

"You most certainly will not," you scold her as you move to swipe it from her hands, but she's too fast. "Also, we're not dating."

"Are you sure?" Alex tucks the paper into the safety of her bag. 

"That I'm not dating Sue Storm? Yeah, pretty sure," you retort dryly. 

"You might want to tell her and her love sick smile that, then," she says. 

"She smiles at everyone like that, it's her smile," you say back. 

"Okay, I can't fight you on that one since I don't know her," Alex amends and you let out a sigh. "But, I do know you, and that's definitely not your regular smile."

You get that same feeling of uncertainty that you felt yesterday in Reed's lab. The idea of dating Sue isn't an unpleasant one, far from it actually. Not only is she the most beautiful person you've ever had the privilege of knowing, but she's also the smartest and most interesting one. So no, dating her is not a bad idea at all—but that's all it is, an idea. An idea that can never happen and one you scold yourself for even entertaining. 

Alex lets the topic go when she notices you spiraling. Wordlessly, she produces two hard copies of her syllabus and a notebook full of lesson plans from her bag. You're grateful for the distraction as you take the syllabus from her and begin to read through it. 

Throughout the rest of your meeting, the story floats around your head like a balloon waiting for the most inopportune time to pop. You try your best to focus on suggesting the best texts to supplement Alex's lessons, but thoughts of Sue continue to poke at you. She reads the paper every morning, so you're sure she's seen the pictures of you two by now. Maybe one day down line, once this has all blown over, you'll have the time to be flattered that you made the front cover, but that day is not today. You can't stop imagining her face as she reads the article—the widening of her eyes, the sharp upturn of her mouth, Johnny's loud guffaw when he sees what she's looking at. 

Alex leaves your office around lunchtime to grab food for the both of you. You're way too exhausted to go anywhere but home, and you're not too keen on everyone staring at you like they were this morning. So, she offered to pick something up and bring it back to the office instead. While you wait, you get up to stretch your legs and open the blinds to let the afternoon light in. 

Your office is just tall enough that you can see pieces of the New York City skyline. From where you stand, you can see the Baxter Building twinkling in the sun. When you first moved into this office, you were delighted to see that you had such a beautiful view. You and Sue like to stand at your windows and wave to each other even though realistically, neither of you can see that far. Now the sight of the building makes you queasy as you think about the current situation you've found yourself in. 

"People say things about the Fantastic Four all the time," Alex says later, over her sandwich from the deli down the block. "I'm sure everyone will have moved on by tomorrow."

"Let's hope," you reply as you lean back in your chair and cover your face with your hands. 

•••••••••

It does not go away the next day. In fact it spreads even further, finding its way onto the international news circuit. A nosy reporter was able to sniff out your name and employment information as well. No longer able to hide behind the title of 'mystery woman,' you had nowhere to run to. Everyone knows who you are now, and more people are beginning to come forward with stories of all the times they supposedly saw you out with Sue. You're losing track of the amount of news outlets that are calling you up to ask for a comment—you've denied every request so far. Apparently no one has ever bought flowers with a friend before. 

You initially resolved to stay in your apartment until everything calmed down, but once it passed the 72 hour mark, you realized that might not be the most sustainable option. As tempting as it was to burrow into your bed and pretend that everyone wasn't talking about you and Sue, you still have a life you need to live. So on day four of the news frenzy, you decide to venture out into the world with a scarf wrapped around your head and sunglasses on your face. While you're out, you avoid any block within a five block radius of the Baxter Building. 

Thinking about Sue leaves you with a pit of dread that sits uneasily in your stomach. What scares you the most about this isn't the fact that people think you're dating, but rather the fact that you don't mind it as much as you maybe should. Sue is constantly batting away men who can't take a hint, why would you add to it as a friend and someone she trusts. But, the more you think about dating her, the more pleasant it sounds, which just won't do. 

You already worry that she finds you annoying, what would she do if she found out that you have a crush on her? The thought is mortifying and it stops you in your tracks every time you think it. She's too polite to say anything negative about it, which is probably worse than if she did have something bad to say. You'd rather a hard rejection than some pitying smile that would kill you inside—though a rejection might also kill you.

"You should talk to her, sweetie," your mother's tinny voice says over the phone. She heard about the article the day it was released, but has only just now been able to get her calls through your busy phone line. 

"No," you say immediately, "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I just can't. I don't know how to explain it to you," you say. 

"Try," she pushes stubbornly. 

You pause, trying to collect your swirling thoughts and assemble them into something coherent. "I don't want her to be weirded out by it, especially because it'd probably mean that she'd reject me. She's my best friend, I don't want that."

"How can you be so sure she'd reject—"

"Also, she's busy. This is probably more convenient for her anyway. She has much better things to be doing than worrying about something as trivial as relationship rumors," you interrupt.

"If it's so trivial, I don't see why you can't say something."

"You're supposed to me on my side, Mom," you groan petulantly. 

"I am on your side, honey," she laughs. "But, I'm also reasonable."

"I'm reasonable," you argue.

"If you want to avoid your friend, you're welcome to do it. You're an adult," she says, ignoring your protests. "But, I think it'd be worth it to talk to her."

"Can we talk about something else? Like, how's the cat?" Your mother could go on and on about her loaf of a cat. She got it when you and your siblings moved out of the house and she found the empty nest life was not for her. 

After you hang up with your mom, you think about what she said. You want to go see Sue—the past six days have been dreadful without her—but something stops you whenever you try to walk towards the Baxter Building or pick up the phone. You can't help but imagine Sue's reaction once she realizes that you have a crush on her. Your face heats up thinking about that soft smile and gentle tone she'd use to let you down softly. Being around her after that would be painful and embarrassing. It might ruin her for you, and you don't think you'd survive that. Maybe she wouldn't even want you around anymore, which be a worser fate. No, seeing Sue right now cannot happen. 

•••••••••

People only move on when a devastating earthquake hits California a little over a week later. You wouldn't say you're happy about a national disaster, but you're not exactly as sad about it as you could be. The story about you and Sue is now forgotten almost completely. People still stare at you a little when you go out, but you no longer need to disguise yourself and you can turn on the TV now without having to stare at your own face.

You're about to get in the shower when you hear a knock. You stare in the direction of your front door, double checking the time. You elect to ignore it since there's nothing good that could come from answering a knock on your door at 10 P.M. You continue on your path to the bathroom when another knock comes. And another. And another. 

You roll your eyes and stalk over to the door, tightening your bathrobe around your waist. You hope people haven't graduated from phone calls to actually coming to your home to demand answers about Sue. 

"What do you want?" you bark as you rip your door open. The sight that greets you makes you pause. "Johnny?"

"Nice robe," Johnny says as he takes in your state of dress. You pull your robe closer to your body and he rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna look."

"What are you doing here?" you demand.

"I could ask you the same thing," he says as he sees himself into your apartment like he owns it. 

"What am I doing here? In my apartment? Where I live?" you ask incredulously. 

"Yes," he speaks as if his point is obvious. "You know, you missed Sunday dinner twice." 

"That's what this is about?"

"Sue has been worried sick about you," he tells you. His tone isn't aggressive, but it's not the playful one you're used to. "Why are you ignoring her?"

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"You know what I'm talking about," he says as he makes himself at home on your couch. "Was it that article? Because those people don't know what they're talking about."

"No, I've just been busy," you say. 

"It was the article, wasn't it?"

You deflate and fold your arms. "I just don't want her to feel weird about it. That's all. I'm giving her space."

"Space?"

"Yes," you say, trying to sound convincing.

He rolls his eyes, "You're an idiot. Both of you."

"Hey!" you shout, standing up straighter at the insult.

"She doesn't feel weird about it," he says it as if it's the most simple fact in the world. "She feels the exact opposite of weird actually."

"What are you talking about?" you question.

"You really don't know," he says as a look of realization crosses his face. 

"Know what?" you ask, throwing your hands up.

"Look, I'm not gonna spill all of my sister's secrets," he says, getting up now. "All I'm gonna say is you should talk to her about it. In person."

"That's it? That's all you're gonna give me?" you ask, annoyed. "You came here all the way to tell me to talk to your sister."

"Yes," he says, opening your door. "I'll see ya tomorrow."

With that he's gone and you're left standing in the middle of your apartment in a robe, confused.

•••••••••

The Baxter Building shines brightly under the glare of the mid-afternoon sun. You squint up at it from your place in the courtyard out front. There are children playing on nearby benches and suits walking around on their lunch breaks. All around you, people move, but you remain glued to the floor. You thought about what Johnny said last night, about Sue and the article and her 'secrets.' It must be pretty serious if Johnny was actually willing to come to your home, which was nowhere near his own. It felt so easy to pretend as if nothing happened, to just bury your head in the sand. But in doing so, you realized you hurt others along the way. Embarrassed by your own behavior, you wonder if you should even be here right now.

You're about to abandon the plan, maybe send Johnny an apology letter, when you hear someone call out to you from behind. You turn around and see Sue standing in front of you, a bag of groceries in her hand—a box of Swedish Fish is poking out of the top. 

"Hi," you say. The sun makes her hair glow like a halo around her head and you wish you were able to say more but you have no idea where to start. 

"What are you doing out here?"

"You went grocery shopping," you observe instead of answering her question. She doesn't usually do the grocery shopping, Ben does; says he's the only one who knows what good food is.

She looks down at the bag in her hand as if suddenly remembering she was holding it. "I had some free time."

"Oh."

"Would you like to come up?" 

You will yourself to nod and she adjusts her grip on the bag. She hesitates in her spot for a split second and you think she's going to say something, but instead she walks ahead of you towards the entrance. You follow after her wordlessly.

The living room is bright as you sit on the plush couch next to Sue. As soon as you got up to the living area she put the grocery bag down on the kitchen counter and directed you to the couch. You're both quiet as you wait for Herbie to bring in coffee. Neither of you are very thirsty right now, but it'll give you something to do with your hands. You sneak a glance at her out of the corner of your eye—she looks exhausted now that you're inside and out of the sun. There are dark circles forming under her eyes and a deep frown is set into her face. Your eyes dart away when she senses your stare. 

Herbie breaks the silence as he rolls into view carrying a tray of with two cups of coffee as well as a selection of things to add to it. Sue thanks him and takes the tray. You awkwardly stir your coffee, the clinking of your spoons against the ceramic mugs rings out loudly and painfully. 

"I'm sorry."

"Have I done something wrong?"

You both speak at the same time. Your heart sinks when you hear her question. The last thing you wanted was for her to worry about her own actions, which have been nothing short of kind. You wring your hands against your cup of coffee nervously. 

"No, no, you haven't done anything wrong," you say, ashamed. You feel so selfish now.

"Are you alright?" she asks next and your heart sinks even further. You ignore her for an entire week and the only thing she cares about is your well-being. 

"Yeah," you say. "I'm fine."

"I've been worried about you," she says, finally turning to you.

"Yeah, Johnny said you were."

"Johnny spoke to you?"

"No?" She smiles just the slightest at your poor attempt to lie. "He came to my apartment last night."

"I'll have to thank him, I guess," she says. "Though, I wish you would've come on your own accord."

"I'm sorry, Sue," you take a deep breath as put your cup down and turn to look her in the eye. "I shouldn't have run. It's not even that big of a deal, really. I don't know why I reacted like that. It was just gossip."

"You're not the first person to be weirded out by the thought of dating me," she says in a rare moment of self deprecation. You squirm knowing you caused the insecurity in her voice. 

"I wasn't 'weirded out' by the thought of it," you correct her. "And I don't think that's true. People fall over their feet trying to get your attention."

"Sure, but I don't know any of them, not really," she says, she chews her lip before continuing, "not like I know you."

You look at her. You've never seen her so unsure of herself. Her eyebrows are set high and her eyes look a little teary. She worries her bottom lip again as she waits for a response. 

"I'm sorry. I've gone about this completely wrong," you offer.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" she asks desperately. "Why act like we didn't even know each other? I thought I did something wrong."

"I thought if I stayed away, it would be easier for you to deal with," you reason weakly. Now that you're saying the words out loud, you realize how foolish you are. "I thought maybe you'd be annoyed with me."

"Why would I be annoyed?" She almost sounds offended at the notion. "Do you really think that lowly of me?"

"No, I don't," you say firmly. This is going terribly. "I don't know, you're busy. And I'm around too much. You shouldn't have to put up with relationship rumors with your best friend. It's bad enough that I'm—"

You cut yourself off abruptly. You break away from her gaze and stare at your coffee that's going cold.

"You're what?"

"Nothing. I just got carried away."

Sue looks at you for a moment, not saying anything. You fear you've completely messed things up with her now. But before you can contemplate your worries any further, she's taking your head in her hands and crashing her mouth into yours. It takes you by surprise; your eyes blink, trying to process the sudden movement. She pauses but her mouth remains on yours. 

You begin to kiss back and Sue starts up with the fervor that she initially dove in with. Her hands move from your face down to your waist to pull you closer. Your own hands fly up to her shoulders to steady yourself. Your lips move in sync together, as if you've been doing this your whole lives. You only pull away when you've both run out of air. 

"Does that seem annoyed to you?" she asks, her bright blue eyes looking into yours.

"I don't know, maybe we should try again just to be sure," you tease in a daze. 

She laughs at that, actually laughs. It's a nice change of pace from the awkward pauses and lingering glances earlier. She sobers up and says, "You could never annoy me."

"I really am sorry. I've been idiot."

"Clearly," she says bluntly. "But, I haven't been very smart about this either. I should've told you how I felt a while ago."

"When did you realize?"

She smiles fondly at your question, "About a year and half into our friendship."

"Sue," you breathe out.

"I know, I know."

"I only figured it out a week ago," you say quirking your lips sheepishly. 

"We're both fools," she remarks. "I don't know what this will be, but we'll figure it out together. Please don't run away again."

"I won't. I promise," you vow shaking your head back and forth. 

She wraps her arms around you securely and you feel yourself mirroring her. Her hand comes up to cradle the back of your head gently. You turn your head into her neck and breathe in her perfume. Her hair is soft as you stay nestled in her neck.

"I'm glad we're on the same page again," she says, pulling back. She smooths your hair down before tucking a loose strand behind your ear. 

"Oh good, you two made up," Johnny says loudly. Your head swivels in his direction and you see him standing at the bottom of the stairs. 

"Johnny," Sue says turning towards him as well. "Is there something you need?" 

"No, just came down for a snack," he says easily, crossing the way to the kitchen. "You're welcome by the way."

"Yes, thank you John," Sue rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to you. She smiles and leans in for another kiss. 

"Ew, don't do that in front of me!" Johnny shouts indignantly from kitchen. 

You laugh as Sue closes her eyes and breathes in. She gets up, pulling you up with her. She waves at him before dragging you off in the direction of her bedroom. You follow gladly.

•••••••••

"Keep them closed."

"Sue, I've already seen you in that dress," you say with amusement. "I was there with you when you bought it."

"It's not the dress," she says. "Humor me."

"You know, we have a reservation make," you remind her without any real urgency in your voice. Your eyes remain closed though, and you hear her moving around the room.

It's your birthday tonight, and you're meant to be going out to dinner with the rest of the family to celebrate. Reed, Johnny, and Ben are all waiting for you downstairs currently. You mentally calculate the minutes you have left before one of them comes looking for you two. A sweet scent from the vase of lilies sitting on Sue's bedside table wafts over to you and you breathe it in. You feel the bed dip and relish in the weight of her next to you.

"Okay, open," she whispers.

When your eyes open she has a wide smile on her face, and she's holding something in the palm of her hand. Your eyebrows crease and you look down to see that she's holding a small velvet box open. On a delicate metal chain sits two, small gems, each a color of your birthstones. A soft gasp escapes you as you look back up at Sue. She's watching your reaction carefully, the soft light of her bedroom dancing along her pale skin. You look back at the gem.

"Sue, that's beautiful" you admire. 

"You like it?" she asks.

"I love it," you say. 

"I bought it a few months ago," she says bashfully. She takes it out and gestures for you to turn around so she can put it on. "I was gonna give it to you if I ever worked up the courage to tell you how I felt."

Suddenly you remember the package that she was being so secretive about. You had completely forgotten about it in the whirlwind of the past year. Once you cleared the air about the newspaper article, you two agreed to see where things went. It wasn't a difficult decision—it was the most natural thing you've ever done, being with Sue. Nothing in your life changed, except now you spend your nights in her bed and wake up next to her in the morning. 

With the necklace around your neck, you turn around and she takes you in. She places her hand over the necklace where it lays on your sternum. "Perfect."

"I love you," you say, leaning in to give her a few chaste kisses on her lips. Anything more and you'd miss your reservations. 

"I love you too," she hums back. 

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

Fucking Cramps with Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Cramps are miserable and Wanda wants to make you slightly less miserable <3

Warnings: are periods a warning? Pain, tooth-rotting fluff

A/n: Literally miserable and dying rn so I wrote this through tears 👍 need my own Wanda to help me through my cramps I'm not even joking I cried like four times while writing this

Of course.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the heaviness. It presses down on your lower abdomen like an invisible weight, making you curl up under the covers before you’re even fully conscious. For a moment, you think maybe you just slept weird, that your body is stiff from the way you twisted around during the night. But then the dull, familiar ache blooms deeper, spreading from your stomach to your back like a tide of molten lead, and you groan into your pillow.

You really thought you’d have a few more days before it hit, but your body clearly had other plans.

The cramps twist again, sharp enough to make your legs instinctively draw up to your chest. You wince, pressing the heel of your hand against your abdomen like you can physically force the pain away. The room is quiet except for your muffled groans and the faint hum of the heater Wanda insisted on keeping at the perfect temperature all winter long. You could stay here forever - cocooned in the warmth, pretending the world outside your blanket fort doesn’t exist - but then the door clicks open, and a voice you know better than your own drifts through the dim light.

“Sweetheart?” You peek out from under the blanket and find Wanda standing in the doorway, her hair a soft halo around her face, still mussed from sleep. She’s wearing one of your old sweatshirts - the one that always hangs off her shoulders just right - and a pair of dark leggings. In one hand, she’s holding a mug that smells faintly of chamomile.

When her eyes land on you, her brows knit together immediately. She crosses the room in two strides, setting the mug on the nightstand before kneeling beside the bed.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly, reaching to brush a stray strand of hair from your forehead. Her touch is so gentle it almost makes you melt, but the cramp that follows keeps you firmly rooted in misery.

You shake your head and burrow deeper into the pillow. “Period,” you mumble into the fabric.

There’s a beat of silence, then a soft hum of understanding. “Ah,” Wanda says, her accent curling around the word like velvet.

“That explains the face.”

You crack one eye open to glare at her, though the effect is ruined by the fact that you’re half buried in blankets. “The face?”

“The very sad, very grumpy face,” she teases, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “My poor darling. How bad is it?”

“Bad,” you admit without hesitation. “Feels like a demon’s trying to claw its way out of my uterus.”

Her lips twitch, fighting a smile, but her eyes are pure sympathy. “That does sound unpleasant.”

“No kidding,” you mutter, wincing as another cramp rolls through you.

Wanda doesn’t waste another second. She pulls back just long enough to kick off her slippers and climb into bed beside you, tugging the blankets until she can slip under them too. The moment she’s close enough, you roll toward her instinctively, seeking out her warmth like a plant reaching for sunlight. She welcomes you without question, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and pulling you against her chest.

“Better?” she murmurs, pressing her lips to your hair.

You nod, because it is. It’s not a miracle cure - your body still feels like it’s waging an internal war - but the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your ear makes the pain feel less sharp, less consuming.

“I hate this,” you whisper after a while.

“I know,” she says, stroking her fingers through your hair in slow, soothing lines.

“But you are very strong.”

“I don’t feel strong,” you admit, voice small.

“Strength is not about never hurting,” Wanda says simply. “It is about enduring. And you are enduring beautifully.”

You snort into her sweatshirt, which only makes her chuckle and tighten her hold on you. For a few minutes, you just breathe together, her hand drawing lazy patterns along your spine. It’s enough to lull you into a state that’s not quite sleep but far from fully awake - until the cramps return with a vengeance, dragging a strangled sound from your throat.

Wanda feels it immediately. “Okay,” she murmurs, sitting up slightly. “Time for reinforcements.”

You blink up at her blearily as she slips out of bed. “Reinforcements?”

“You will see,” she promises with a little wink, and then she’s gone.

When she returns ten minutes later, it’s like she’s waging her own small war against your pain. She comes armed with a heating pad, a bottle of water, and a plate of something that smells suspiciously like chocolate chip cookies.

You stare at the tray she sets on the nightstand. “You made cookies?”

“They were in the freezer,” she says, plugging in the heating pad and carefully tucking it against your abdomen. The instant warmth makes you sigh in relief. “But yes, I baked them. For emergencies. Like this.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, even as you take one and nibble at the edge. It’s gooey and perfect and everything you didn’t know you needed.

“I'm resourceful,” Wanda corrects, sliding back into bed beside you. She grabs the remote and flicks the TV on, scrolling through options until she lands on one of your favorite comfort shows. “Now. We will watch something light, eat cookies, and ignore the world. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not a doctor,” you point out, though you’re already sinking back into the pillows.

“I am your doctor today,” she declares, settling in with an arm around your shoulders again. “And my prescription is cuddles.”

You can’t even argue with that.

The day drifts by in a haze of blankets and laughter, Wanda keeping you cocooned in warmth and softness. She feeds you cookies and eventually insists you drink tea - “Hydration is important,” she scolds when you protest - and massages your scalp while you lean against her shoulder. At one point, she disappears again and returns with a small bouquet of flowers she conjured from thin air, their petals glowing faintly with crimson energy.

“Wanda,” you say, staring at them in awe.

“You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to,” she interrupts gently, tucking one behind your ear. “You deserve beautiful things, even on difficult days.”

Your throat feels tight, and for a moment you can’t speak. So you just kiss her knuckles instead, and she smiles like it’s the easiest thing in the world to love you.

By late afternoon, the worst of the cramps have dulled to a bearable throb, thanks to the heating pad and Wanda’s constant care. You’re curled up together on the couch now, a blanket draped over both of you as the TV plays something neither of you are really watching. Wanda’s fingers trace idle shapes along your arm, and every so often, she presses a kiss to your temple like she can’t quite help herself.

“You really didn’t have to spend the whole day taking care of me,” you murmur at one point, guilt creeping in at the edges.

She tilts her head, studying you with a soft, amused expression. “Of course I did,” she says simply. “I love you. When you hurt, I want to help. That is not an obligation - it is a privilege.”

The words sink into you like sunlight after a storm, warm and steady and achingly tender. You swallow hard and tuck yourself closer against her side, letting the beat of her heart remind you that you’re safe, that you’re loved, that even the worst days can hold moments of grace.

By the time the sun starts dipping low, painting the sky in hues of violet and rose, Wanda stands and offers you her hand.

“Come,” she says softly.

“Where?” you ask, eyeing her suspiciously.

“To make you feel better,” she answers with a little smirk.

You let her lead you into the bathroom, where she’s already run a warm bath. The surface glimmers faintly with a crimson glow, her magic swirling through the water like liquid starlight. Candles line the edge of the tub, their flames dancing gently in the dim room. The scent of lavender fills the air, calming and sweet.

“Wanda,” you breathe, overwhelmed.

“Clothes off,” she says matter-of-factly, and you laugh, cheeks flushing as you obey. She helps you into the water, her hands careful and reverent, and the heat envelops you instantly. Relief floods through your body, making you sigh so deeply it feels like you’re exhaling all the pain from your bones.

“There,” Wanda murmurs, kneeling beside the tub to trail her fingers through the water. “Better?”

“Much,” you admit, eyes fluttering closed.

“You’re spoiling me.”

“You deserve it,” she says simply, pressing a kiss to your damp hairline.

She stays there the whole time, massaging your scalp, humming softly under her breath. At one point, she dips her hands into the water and lets a swirl of scarlet magic drift to your lower abdomen. The warmth seeps deeper than the bathwater, easing the ache in a way nothing else can.

When you finally climb out - wrapped in the fluffiest towel Wanda could find - she helps you into fresh clothes and guides you back to bed. The sheets are warm, the lights dim, and the air smells faintly of lavender from your bath.

Wanda slips in beside you, pulling you close until your head rests against her chest. Her fingers trace soothing lines along your back, and when she whispers, her voice is soft as a lullaby.

“Sleep now, my love. I will keep you safe.”

And for the first time all day, you believe her completely.

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

I've never had the chance to wear something pretty for a partner and get to watch as their face shifts from waiting patiently to complete shock and awe as they watch me enter the room.

I really think that would just make me melt...

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

rare soft sfw post but thinking about mindlessly playing with my partner's hands whenever we're outside. i have a habit of fidgeting with my hands and so a femme giving me their hand while we're sitting at a restaurant or something and me just playing with it <3 flitting my fingers down the length of theirs, tapping on the pads of their fingers. testing out different hand holds and drawing shapes with my thumb. tracing the lines of their palm and them giggling because it's ticklish. taking in the feeling of their soft skin and meeting it with my lips.

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

general curiosity about your lives post

reblog & tell me one thing you did yesterday, one thing you've done today, and one thing you plan to do tomorrow, big or small, that someone might not expect

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

Chocolate guy... What the fuck!?

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

I ❤️ SUBTITLES

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

would've started saving money in kindergarten if i knew my life was like this

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

my wife tried to do the thing where you pull a tablecloth really fast and the dishes stay in place but instead of a tablecloth it was a towel and instead of dishes it was our poor long suffering cat that was just trying to sleep on said towel. poor baby got whipped across the room fast enough that its meow got dopplered into meeeeeeOOOWWwwwwww

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

ceo!wanda who uses you as a stressball, just randomly groping and squeezing any part she can reach when she's pissed at something from work; she will apologize for leaving bruises/scratches on your skin

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

how is she so majestical princess but also goddess mommy. like dykwim Guys

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

strap me sunday — m., wanda

power bottom!wanda x service top!f reader

summary: lazy sunday turns into strap-me sunday!

warning/s: STRAP, rough sex, dirty talk, breast play, mommy kink (slight), spit kink, hair pulling, slapping, L-bombs; a little aftercare at the end.

word count: 1, 948

author’s note: a little prelude for ‘you’re a smart girl’ (not affiliated) because not writing for an entire year and a half and producing something big here is terrifying. btw, it’s sunday today. don’t let a bunch of calendar’s convince you otherwise. yay 1st post after a year and a half! 🥳

“yeah?” wanda pants, whimpering as you nod your head, mouth wide open in fascination as you stare above you. it’s not every time you get to do this to her. “you want me slow, darling?” you aggressively nod your head, “y-yes! i-i want to see it disappear inside you…” your hands fisting the messy sheets, afraid to touch her body. her slicked, glistening, smooth body.

wanda shakes her head, her tongue flicking the roof of her mouth, making ticking sounds. “you filthy girl,” she sniggers, “you’ve learnt a lot from me, haven’t you?” teasing her hole on the tip of the red didlo clamped around a harness, the squelch causing you both to moan in tandem.

“yeah…”

“yeah?”

“mhmm,” you whimper as she finally slides her hole down into the strap-on, a trickle of wanda’s cum coating the length. her cheeks are fluffed out red from the past hour of indulging; the ceremonious lazy sunday turned into strap-me sunday just because you decided to tempt the devil by wearing nothing underneath the apron whilst you baked pie. her fingers magically appeared in between your legs as you checked the oven midway the timer, ass in the air.

you’re not complaining at all, though. you’re right where you want to be.

you feel the strap pressing against your pelvis as wanda descends further, the dildo stretching her pussy in a way you’ve never seen before. they’re so swollen and puffed out, and oh-so slick with her thick cum. it didn’t matter you cleaned it off a while ago after she came in your mouth twice, as with the idea of riding you was something she has been fantasizing about for a while.

“you see me, baby? you see my pussy stretched out for you?” she grunts, mostly to herself. you whimper in response, the words lost in your head. wanda hits the base and a full deep moan lurches out of her throat, folding herself over by your torso to get a good grip at the sheets.

“are you okay?” you ask, sitting up to get closer to her, which only makes her yelp.

“i’m sorry!” you exclaim, your eyes bulging out of your eye sockets. wanda whimpers and reaches for you, gripping the back of your head, “i-it’s okay, my love, i-i was just getting used to t-the angle, that’s all,” she consoles, squeezing your hand and giving you a strained smile.

you fall back down the mattress holding her hand, “okay, tell me when to start moving!” taking breaths in between.

“o-okay,” wanda sighs and gulps down her saliva. giggling to herself, “i’m not even moving yet but i’m about to drool,” giving a little bounce and contorting her face in pleasure at the process.

you squirm at the pressure on your pelvis as wanda bounces again, this time with more intent, another heavenly moan falling from her swelling red lips.

“y-you can drool all you want, wanda, i don’t mind,” you say, obediently, naturally.

she nods her head, eyes shut tight, catching the feeling of the shaft hitting her at the spot. she squirms and finds herself arching her back, her hands firmly placed on either side of your knees behind her, fully displaying herself to you.

wanda’s breasts move in tandem with her thrusts, her nipples peaking and just begging to be sucked. her chest and torso littered with love bites both purple and red, the colorful blotches marking your territory. sweat begins to form around her forehead.

“y/n, baby,” she whines in both sweetness and need, your attention automatically scanning her gorgeous face, her hands gripping onto your hips. she looks at you with a pleasure-stricken face you can’t help but to match, both of your inhibitions melting away.

“a-ah! please-“

“right there?” you tease as you drive your hips roughly into her, the momentum causing her to plop down against your torso. “OH!” wanda yelps and immediately gets back on top, her entire body convulsing in pleasure. ““god, baby! yes! yes! right there! right there!”

each moan comes out deep and guttural, continuously leaving her swollen mouth like an avalanche.

“you like that?”

a long, animalistic growl comes out, “if you don’t shut up-!”

“if i don’t what?” whilst you tease yet again, abruptly sitting up from your previous position. grabbing her hips, completely ramming her very own strap-on into her, fucking her to oblivion.

her pussy is so drenched, each thrust sets a disgusting squelch, your thighs wet with her cum.

“fuck,” you pant, “your pussy sound so fucking good!”

pressing your lips against wanda’s molded into a sloppy kiss, more wanton than the next, inhaling every moan coming from her mouth. the pounding goes on, your tempo and precision never once faltering. sucking her tongue and biting her lip simultaneously as she weakly tongues you back, giving your all to stimulate her to the brim.

as you do so, your right hand finds her hardened nipple. a tiny flick causes her to get more feral as she grabs at your hair, pulling at it. you both moan at the same time when you begin to twist and pull at her nipple, your name falling from wanda’s lips like a mantra.

“please, baby, n-need your mouth, please-!”

“oh you want it?” wanda nods her head with a whimper.

“you want it so bad?”

you take her in your mouth before she could respond, giggling as a scream falls from her mouth.

“oh my god, y/n!”

you suck profusely as if it’s your last lollipop in the world.

“oh my god, no! no!”

wanda pushes you until you land on your back again, her hands pinning your wrists on the mattress as her bouncing degrades into grinding.

“i-i can’t, baby,” she whimpers, a frown etching on her glowing face, brows furrowed as the pleasure glues itself there, “i don’t want to come yet. let me savor this.”

“whatever you want, wanda,” you smile, caressing her hip, “i love you,”

“i love you, honey. thank you,”

“anything for you,” you say and then flick at her nipple. “hey!”

you giggle, “sorry, i can’t help it,” biting your lip. “i know,” wanda responds with a smirk, “i’m irresistible!”

“cocky!” you retort back with a roll, causing her to yelp. she raises her brow, slapping the side of your abdomen. “pun?” she asks, beginning to thrust her hips again. you mewl at the sight, “no ma’am.”

“good. good girl,”

you moan in approval at the pet name as you drive the fake cock slowly into her pussy, meeting resistance at every squelchy thrust. your own clit twitches at the sound, so close to the edge.

“wanda, come on, please, oh, you feel so good,”

“you feel so good to me, baby.”

“you feel so good around me!”

one hard thrust, “yeah?” her pitch getting higher, “yes, i can feel you squeezing this cock so hard,” her moans erratic. “you’re about to come, aren’t you, wanda?”

she whimpers and nods her head, her moans getting higher and breathier.

“a-and who’s c-cock is t-this?”

wanda’s as magnificent as ever — hair undone, sweat clinging onto her temples, swollen mouth open, in pure bliss.

“my mommy’s cock.”

“fuck! me! fuck!”

wanda bounces on top of you like there’s no tomorrow, each one pressing harder against your clit. her tits goes along with the flow of it all, your hips obeying her commands. “please, wanda-!”

“open your mouth,”

you thrust harder, only caring about her, obsessed at the sight of her, glistening in both sweat and cum, her command going over your head.

“i said, open your mouth!” she yells and squeezes your jaw, your mouth hanging open immediately.

you unclench then, wanda’s two fingers plunging inside of you, opening your jaw wider than they already are. before you could swipe and suck, she pulls them away only to be greeted by her spit.

it hits you then, your back arching into a perfect curve, “that’s right,” jackhammering the cock into her tight pussy, taking her spit after spit, choking on it, crying for more. “i-i’m sooo close!”

“w-what’s my name?” wanda snaps, slapping your tits. she smirks, then nods, when you say, “mommy, i’m yours!”

another slap lands against your face, this time in approval, your eyes blurry due to the haze and lust, your apex minutes before you.

“that’s right, my baby,” wanda croaks, “but you’re not fucking me hard enough to still be able to say these big words.”

“oh wanda,” you murmur incoherently, your tongue lax and melting away with your brain. you grip her sides and slam your hips into her, pinning her hands on either side of her so she has no choice but to just take it.

““i-i can’t any-m-more—i’m s-so-! i want to come!” and she only moans at my neediness. “mommy’s close too, baby, come with me, okay?”

you nod your head as you whimper, “p-please,” your sight turning glossy as you reach over wanda’s clit and rub over it. she tells and falls into you, curving her back as she bites into your shoulder.

“come with me, y/n,” she pants into your ear, whimpering as you scream into your climax, your hips stuttering, wanda coming apart with you.

you fall into the mattress, exhaustion mingling with gravity, the full weight of wanda’s body furthering you into the post-bliss of it all. you’re giggling as wanda catches her breath, joining along as she kisses your jaw, moaning in content.

“oh, wanda!” you sigh. what a heavenly way to die.

“what was that?” she teases, palming your abdomen, her fingertips trailing close to the strap clipped around your pelvis. you squirm and whimper, shaking your head.

“just your average strap-me sunday, i think,” you cackle as soon as the words left your mouth, tilting your head to admire the soft pinks dusting wanda’s cheeks, and her oh-so green dilated orbs you so love to see. she takes your cheek into her hand and pulls you into her, her bright, gummy teeth blinding your sight.

“so pretty, my baby,” you whisper, tangling your fingers into the locks of her auburn hair, meeting your noses together for an eskimo.

the giggles that fill the bedroom remind you of two high school girls discovering the peculiarity of kissing another of the same sex. the endless possibility of taking it further, knowing no one will suspect. the possibility that no one ever will. the relief that no one will take it away.

“i think…” wanda begins with a rasp in her voice, her sokovian accent taking over, “that…” throwing over her leg across your torso, climbing on top of you without breaking eye contact, “…no one could ever compare…” pecking your lips with soft kisses, her hair falling over your faces like a curtain.

“i certainly hope so!”

she giggles, kissing down your body, fluttering her eyes close as you sigh above her, taking it like all the kindness given to you.

“i love you so much, moy malysh,”

wanda, with so much concern, slowly takes the strap-on off your pelvis, gasping at the sight before her. she laps at your juices as you squirm, the touch of her warm tongue blossoms a riveting adoration within you, sighing at the affection she’s nurturing you.

“after this,” she starts, her words muffled as she licks a stripe off your pussy, “i’ll get us on a warm bath,” kissing your clit as you moan, “i’ll dress you up for comfort,” sucking into your bundle of nerves like she never gets enough, “and we’ll eat that pie you so sexily baked for us,” prying apart your thighs to make more room for her ministrations.

“how’s that sound?”

[xxxtwilightaxelxxx]

The Psychology of Love and Serial Killers Part Five (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: The aftermath of the riot... in so many ways.

Words: 2032

Warnings: Mild smut, language, blood and gore near the end.

A/N: Part five, witches. You eatin' good today. You're welcome.

Taglist: @starry-night17 @puta1 @traveler-at-heart (I tagged you because you brought it up lmfao)

-X-

The mirror in the women’s restroom was cracked.

Possibly from the riot, possibly because of some idiot who just didn’t know how to keep their temper in check. It was thin, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the mark, seeing both sides of herself on each half. She should be furious, wary, disgusted by you and your actions—

But all she could hear was your voice in her ear, asking if she was okay. Your arm around her waist as you pulled her away from Rumlow’s weapon sights. The way you told the inmates she was yours and that you’d destroy the entire prison to keep her from harm.

It shouldn’t have left her stomach burning, but god help her, her panties were drenched and it was genuinely one of the most fucked up situations of her career.

She splashed water across her face, trying to hide the flush of her cheeks and watching the droplets roll down her throat and soak into the collar of her blouse just so. Wanda had been saved before, as a child in Sokovia, by men who thought they understood but were just as invasive and useless as every other person in her life. But this?

This was different—and she hated it.

Hated that she felt safer in the arms of a murderer than she did in a room full of FBI agents.

She gripped the edge of the sink, breathing deeply through her nose. It had been logical to protect you after what had happened. To defend you from the agents as they rounded on you, but logic couldn’t explain away the warmth blossoming in her belly and the way she craved your arm around her again.

The door creaked open behind her and Wanda straightened instantly, eyes flickering to an agent of the bureau she hadn’t cared to learn the name of.

“Debrief room is available. Assistant Director Hill is requesting your presence. Now.”

-X-

Hill sat at the end of a long table in a glass-walled conference room, her face carved from stone as Rumlow stood beside her, arms crossed and expression dark, like he’d been reprimanded but didn’t want to admit it. Natasha was on Maria’s other side, face impassive but clearly unimpressed by whatever tale Rumlow had attempted to spin before Wanda had arrived.

Wanda sat across from them with her spine straight, hair still damp near her temples. She looked calm.

She wasn’t.

Hill clicked her pen once, touching it to her notepad. “Walk us through what happened, Doctor Maximoff. Every detail.”

Wanda nodded, folding her hands in front of her.

“There was a security breach moments after I arrived and scanned into the hall. I was enroute to interview room 6 when I heard the alarm. I was already within proximity—closer to it than any exit, especially since the wards lock down during riots so I made the decision to attempt to reach the room and secure myself.”

Rumlow snorted, mouth pressed into a thin line.

Hill didn’t blink. “And then?”

“I encountered three inmates in the corridor. They were armed. One of them moved to touch me… or worse. Before she could cause harm… (L/N) intervened.”

Rumlow’s arms dropped to his sides. “Intervened?” he repeated. “She fucking choked out the inmate often referred to as Hela and told the others you were off-limits. That’s not intervening, doc. That’s some weird possessive serial killer shit. And she threatened my life.”

“Correct.” Wanda nodded without hesitation. “Except she only threatened your life when you continued to point a loaded weapon at me.”

“So what, you think she was doing you a favor?” Rumlow sounded incredulous, like it was beyond his comprehension that you could’ve chosen to protect Wanda freely.

“She de-escalated a life-threatening situation without harming anyone beyond what was necessary,” Wanda replied simply, locking eyes with Natasha. “You saw her, Agent Romanoff. She wasn’t unduly aggressive upon your arrival. In fact, she was actively shielding me with her body. She could’ve left me to their hands in that hallway but she didn’t while you—” she shot a look at Rumlow, “threatened her life for… protecting me.”

Hill pressed her lips together before she calmly asked, “Doctor Maximoff, do you believe your safety is compromised by continuing to interact with Inmate 643?”

She was certain she already knew the answer, but the question was necessary for protocol.

“No. Not at all,” Wanda replied without hesitation. “She’s a killer. A murderer… but I feel safer in a room with her than I ever do with him—” she nodded towards Rumlow, “or Agent Ward.”

Hill’s jaw tensed slightly as she leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly.

“She didn’t have to help me, but she did.” Wanda’s voice never wavered, even as she looked between the three agents. “That says more about her and you know it.”

Natasha sighed slowly through her nose. “I’m not one to side with murderers, but…” Natasha’s nose scrunched like the idea of admitting this would feel like glass in her throat, “Inmate 643 did not appear to use any unnecessary force nor did she lash out when guns were pointed at her back. She simply seemed to care about keeping Dr. Maximoff safe. Even when Rumlow acted like a jackass.”

“I did my job!” he barked, glaring at Natasha like her words had betrayed him.

“No, you pointed a loaded service weapon at a goddamn civilian and then continued to keep it trained on the back of an unarmed, compliant prisoner!” Natasha snapped back. “Honestly, if you had fired and hit Wanda, I don’t know that I would’ve stopped (L/N) from making good on her promise. Because that’s what it was. A woman like her doesn’t threaten or posture, she would’ve—”

“Enough!” Hill’s hand slammed onto the table, her face twisted in frustration and utter irritation. “Fine. Prisoner (L/N) won’t be reprimanded for her actions during today’s riot. If you truly believe she was only acting in your best interest, then I won’t pull you from her case. But—” Hill leveled Wanda with a serious look, “the moment I start to think you’re getting dragged into her madness, I will pull you. Do you understand? Because clearly Inmate 643 has decided you have a bond and she will attempt to capitalize on that.”

“I understand.” Wanda nodded, her face impassive despite the war burning deep beneath her ribs. She hated herself for defending you, because you were supposed to be this monster, this boogeyman… but she hated the idea of being ripped away from you more.

-X-

That night, the door to Wanda’s apartment slammed open with a heavy thud against the wall as she stormed in. She threw her bag aside, closing the door a little too hard as she pressed her forehead against the wood. Her hand fell to the lock, flipping it once… then twice. Once for safety, once for control. An old coping mechanism she’d picked up over the years, after dealing with her troublesome childhood in Sokovia.

She’d lied to Hill.

Not outright, but by omission. She hadn’t told her the extent of what she was feeling. That your hands guarding her, that your violence against the other inmates in order to protect her, left her aching in ways it shouldn’t have. She hadn’t told her that she feared she might already be in too deep. No, she’d called you a hero in front of four Bureau agents and walked out like it was nothing…

Except she feared it was everything.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Wanda dragged her hands down her face, exhaling a breath that trembled at the edges. She should be filing her report. She should be journaling or baking or watching old sitcoms and drinking wine.

She should be in control.

Instead, she was standing in the dark with her thighs clenched and her mind spiraling into the place she didn’t let herself go. The place where you were waiting, with a cocky grin and blood on your hands.

She didn’t make it to the bed, exhaustion settling in her bones like goddamn concrete.

She passed out on the couch, half-dressed, tension bleeding from her body only as sleep took her violently—

-X-

The room was in a haze, most of the features obscured except for the cracked mirror Wanda stood in front of. She was panting, pupils blown wide with need as she stared at the figure in the glass. You stood behind her, your hand snaking around her throat and breath hot against her ear as you whispered…

“You’re just like me, Wanda.”

A noise escaped her throat, like it had once meant to be a protest but became a low, aching moan instead.

“The blood on my hands…”

Your free hand skimmed over her belly before dipping lower, sliding between her thighs as she arched into you.

“…you want to taste it.”

Her moan was guttural, but she didn’t argue. Couldn’t. Didn’t want to as your other hand tightened around her throat, fingers tracing her drenched, heated flesh before sinking deep into her cunt. She stared at herself in the mirror, entranced as your mouth brushed along her flushed throat, tongue dragging over her neck.

“Don’t lie to me, Wanda.”

She ground down into your hand, silently pleading as her eyes rolled back…

-X-

Wanda woke with a jolt, sitting upright on her couch as she gasped into the darkness of her living room. Her chest was flushed, panties soaked through.

“…fuck.”

-X-

At the same time, you—unfortunately—were not having the same joy.

Locked in your cell, eyes cold with fury, you glared at Rumlow as he paced in front of your cot. Your hands were bound by chains to the hook on the floor, meant to help keep you “contained” should you act out. But here? Now?

“She defended you,” Rumlow spat, sneering at you in disgust. “A fucking murderous bitch!”

Baring your teeth in a cocky smirk, you tilted your head. “Aw, what’s wrong, agent? Upset she didn’t appreciate your heroics and drop to her knees to suck your pathetic co—”

His fist slammed into your cheek, just below your eye, cutting off your jeering. Head snapping to the side, colors bloomed behind your eyes as you breathed through gritted teeth, tasting the slight copper blossoming on your tongue from where you’d bitten it. You could already feel the familiar ache of a bruise forming as his other hand caught your mouth, the sting of a split burning across the sensitive flesh of your lip.

“Shut up! You think you’re better than me?! You’re an inmate in a federal prison! You’ll die here.” His chest was heaving, fists clenched as he snarled down at you.

Slowly turning your head back to face him, the expression on your face chilled him to the bone.

“…so will you, agent.”

But Rumlow—stupid, arrogant, idiotic Rumlow—didn’t hear a warning. Only a challenge.

He stepped closer until you were inches apart, his breath hot and vile as it fanned across your face. “What makes you say that, (L/N)? Because from where I’m standing, you can’t do sh—”

You surged forward, forehead meeting his nose with a sickening crack before you shifted just enough to sink your teeth deep into his shoulder. Through the thin material of his uniform. Harder and harder until his blood flooded your mouth—

And still you didn’t let go.

Not until his howls of pain sent Ward rushing into your cell to yank you off. You fought against the man’s hold for a moment before letting him finally peel you away, only to watch in amusement as Ward gagged. Because your mouth had never slackened…

So he’d simply helped you rip a hunk of meat from his shoulder. The same hunk you spat in front of them as Rumlow shouted, his hand pressing against the heavily bleeding wound.

“…you think you’re in control, agent? You know nothing about control. But… you will.” You offered a feral smile, teeth slicked in crimson as you chuckled. “My face? It will be the last thing you ever see. That I promise.”