jokeconic

[jokeconic]

Heat

Wanda Maximoff x G!P Reader

Summary: Something had been off with Wanda for days, and Y/N only discovered the reason when she came back from her mission.

Word Count: 6,057

Warnings: fluff, smut, (18+), A/B/O dynamic, Omega!Wanda, Alpha!Reader, heat, knotting

A/N: This story contains A/B/O dynamic. For those who don’t know what it is, I suggest you search before reading it. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Main Masterlist

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The compound’s entrance slid open with a quiet hiss.

Y/N stepped through first, laughing—windblown and flushed from the mission adrenaline—shoulder brushing Nat’s as Clint mimicked an overly dramatic dive-roll he definitely hadn’t done during the op. Her laughter rang through the corridor.

“Come on, that was graceful as hell,” Clint argued, wagging a finger as he walked backward toward the living area.

Nat shot Y/N a smirk. “You nearly face-planted into a trash bin.”

Y/N opened her mouth to fire back—then froze mid-step.

The air hit her.

Sweet. Heady. Overwhelming.

Her pupils contracted. Her muscles tensed like a wire pulled taut. Wanda.

Wanda’s pheromones.

But they weren’t just her usual scent. This was thick, potent, laced with Omega-heat and need and desperation. The scent coated the hallway like a drug.

“Shit,” Y/N hissed under her breath.

She barely heard Nat say her name—barely registered Clint’s confused look. Her alpha instincts overrode everything else.

Wanda. Wanda was in heat. And she was alone.

Y/N cursed herself harshly, breaking into a sprint down the hall. I should’ve noticed this morning. She’d been so focused on the mission—so used to Wanda brushing off her morning fatigue as nothing.

But she should have known.

Her Omega had been off.

Y/N’s boots pounded against the compound floors as she reached their shared bedroom. The closer she got, the stronger the scent became. It wrapped around her—seductive, intoxicating, and tinged with anxiety.

She didn’t even knock.

She flung the door open.

And stopped dead in her tracks.

Wanda was in the middle of a nest.

Y/N’s clothes were scattered everywhere—layered, crumpled, tugged into a circular haven of soft textures and her scent. Sweatshirts, flannels, even the leather jacket she usually kept in the closet. It was all wrapped around Wanda like a protective cocoon.

And at the center of it—

Wanda.

She was curled into the pile, flushed from head to toe, lips swollen, eyes glassy and heavy-lidded with need. Her thighs were slightly parted, slick glistening on her skin. She wore only one thing—Y/N’s shirt, hanging loose and far too big, the fabric barely covering her hips.

“Detka…” Wanda whimpered, her voice fragile. “You’re back.”

The Omega’s scent hit her again—thicker this time, laced with longing and relief.

Y/N’s mouth went dry. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Her alpha instincts surged to the surface, possessive and fierce.

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Locking.

“Why didn’t you tell me, baby?” Y/N whispered, her voice hoarse.

Wanda’s eyes fluttered. “Didn’t want to distract you…”

Y/N’s throat tightened. She moved toward the nest, slowly, carefully—hands up like she was approaching something sacred.

“I’m your alpha. You’re never a distraction to me.” Her voice dropped to a low, protective growl. “You should never go through this alone.”

She knelt at the edge of the nest, and Wanda immediately reached for her—fingers trembling as they curled into the front of Y/N’s combat suit, clinging like a lifeline.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She leaned in, cupping Wanda’s cheek with one hand, her thumb brushing gently over her flushed skin. Their foreheads touched, noses grazing. She inhaled deeply—and it nearly knocked her flat.

Wanda’s scent

It was everywhere. In the fabric of the nest, in the air between them, soaked into her skin. It wrapped around Y/N’s senses and settled in her bones. Her alpha stirred violently beneath the surface—needing to claim, to soothe, to protect, to mate.

And under it all… her body reacted just as fiercely.

Y/N’s member was already painfully hard, pressing against her suit’s pants, throbbing with every shaky breath she took. Her jaw clenched. She could barely hold herself back, could barely remember that Wanda was sensitive, in pain, vulnerable in this state.

She exhaled through her nose and whispered, “You smell so good, baby…”

Wanda blushed beneath her touch, cheeks turning an even deeper shade of pink. She nuzzled into Y/N’s palm, eyes fluttering open with a soft, almost shy look.

“Do you… do you like my nest?” she asked, voice small and hopeful. “I tried to make it good for you…”

Y/N’s breath caught.

Her Omega—drenched in sweat and heat and trembling from need—had still thought about making the nest right for her. She glanced around, taking it in again—how it was layered perfectly with her shirts, jackets, even that ridiculous hoodie Wanda always teased her for wearing to bed. It smelled like both of them. Like home.

A low, tender growl rumbled from Y/N’s chest as she leaned in, kissing Wanda’s forehead. “It’s perfect,” she whispered. “The best nest I’ve ever seen. It’s so you… and it smells like me. You did so good, my love.”

Wanda gave a soft, pleased whimper at the praise, her thighs squeezing together as her body shivered.

Y/N swallowed hard, her control slipping again.

She ran her fingers down Wanda’s side—slow, reverent—and let her voice drop. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart. I’ll give you anything.”

Wanda’s lips parted, her gaze hazy. “I just… I need you. Please. I tried to wait, but it hurts, and I can’t sleep without you, and—”

That was all Y/N needed to hear.

She pulled Wanda gently into her lap, burying her face in her Omega’s neck, breathing her in like oxygen. “I’ve got you now,” she murmured roughly. “I’m gonna take care of you, sweetheart. I promise.”

Wanda whimpered softly against Y/N’s shoulder, her body trembling with need—too hot, too sensitive, every nerve screaming for touch and closeness. Her skin was flushed and slick with sweat, her scent spilling wildly into the air, sharp with distress and unfulfilled heat.

Y/N could feel her Omega slipping—overwhelmed, desperate.

So she closed her eyes.

And let go.

Her alpha pheromones surged.

They rolled off her in a slow, steady wave—warm, grounding, dominant. The shift in the room was immediate. The air grew thicker, heavier, but calmer. Where Wanda’s scent had been frenzied, now it softened. She stilled in Y/N’s lap, her panting slowing just enough for her to let out a shaky breath and sink into her.

Y/N whispered against her hair, “That’s it, baby. Breathe me in.”

Wanda did.

She melted.

The tension in her small frame eased as her Omega instincts responded to the pheromones—to her Alpha. She curled tighter into Y/N’s body, pressing her face to her neck, where the scent was strongest. Her lashes fluttered.

“I missed you,” Wanda murmured, voice small. “It got worse after you left. I couldn’t— I just needed—”

“I know,” Y/N said gently, fingers threading through her hair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

Wanda’s lips brushed her skin, clinging tighter. “But you’re here now.”

Y/N’s heart ached at how raw she sounded.

“I’m here,” she promised, her voice laced with more pheromones, dominant and warm like a blanket. “And you don’t have to be scared anymore. I’ve got you.”

Wanda sighed against her, body completely relaxing for the first time all day.

Her scent—though still thick with heat—grew more content. Safe. Grounded.

The alpha inside Y/N purred in satisfaction. This was what she was meant for. This was her Omega. Her mate.

And no matter how hard the mission or how far she had to go, this would always be her priority.

Y/N held Wanda close, grounding her with steady hands and slow breaths, letting her alpha pheromones continue to roll out like calming waves. Wanda’s heat-sharpened whimpers had softened into soft sighs, small trembles easing as her body slowly surrendered to the comfort of her mate.

But Y/N hesitated just before fully stepping into the nest.

She glanced down at herself—her combat suit was still grimy, streaked with dust and dried blood, the faint scent of gunpowder and tension clinging to it. It didn’t belong anywhere near the haven Wanda had built.

She pulled back slightly, pressing a kiss to Wanda’s temple. “Let me get this off first,” she murmured. “It’s filthy. You made a beautiful nest—I’m not dragging this crap in with me.”

Wanda whined, her fingers instinctively tightening around her. “No—don’t go.”

“I’m not leaving,” Y/N promised gently. “Just staying right here—just gotta get this off.”

She peeled away carefully, sitting on her knees at the edge of the nest. Wanda stayed close, eyes wide and hazy, following her every move like she was afraid she might vanish.

Y/N reached back and began unzipping the tactical suit—pulling it down her arms, her torso, the black material sticking slightly to her damp skin. Beneath it, she wore only a black sports bra, already strained from the way her chest heaved with heat-born tension.

Wanda moaned softly the second the suit slid off her shoulders.

The scent that had been partially muted by the synthetic fabric suddenly burst into the air—Y/N’s true alpha scent. Earthy, musky, threaded with strength and dominance and comfort.

It hit Wanda like a physical wave.

She scrambled forward in the nest, hands greedy and small as she reached for the discarded suit. The moment her fingers touched it, she let out a needy, broken sound—half whimper, half moan—and dragged it into the pile.

“Oh my god…” she whispered, clutching the fabric to her nose, inhaling deep. “Y/N…”

Y/N froze, watching her Omega collapse into the suit like it was made of silk.

“You smell so good,” Wanda whimpered, her voice muffled as she nuzzled into the jacket, her thighs instinctively rubbing together, slick coating the inside of her skin. “It hurts less when I breathe you in…”

Y/N’s heart squeezed in her chest. “Wanda…”

“I need you in here,” Wanda whispered, looking up at her with blown pupils. “Please, Alpha.”

The title wrecked her. Every ounce of restraint Y/N had left frayed at the edges.

She kicked the rest of the suit off, tugging her bra and boxers down in one motion, baring herself completely. Her breath trembled as she stepped forward, climbing carefully into the nest.

Wanda reached for her immediately—desperate, aching—and Y/N went willingly, wrapping her arms around her Omega, pulling her right into her bare chest.

“Alright, baby,” she murmured, voice low and raw. “I’m here now. Let me take care of you.”

She kissed Wanda’s temple, her hand gently moving to the front of the shirt Wanda wore—her own button-down, now clinging to Wanda’s flushed body from the heat. With slow fingers, she undid each button, revealing more and more of the trembling Omega beneath.

Once it hung loose, she pushed it off Wanda’s shoulders, letting it slip away entirely before pulling her into her embrace, pressing their bare bodies together.

Wanda moaned softly at the contact, the relief almost overwhelming.

Y/N settled into the nest with her, the soft scent of her mate’s need wrapping around them both like a heavy fog. The second her skin touched Wanda’s bare thigh, she felt the heat radiating off her in waves—searing, needy, consuming.

Wanda was trembling—beautiful and flushed and writhing. Y/N kissed her shoulder, then down the delicate slope of her collarbone, taking her time, reverent in every motion.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Y/N murmured, lips brushing softly over heated skin. “So perfect, my Omega…”

She let her hands roam gently down Wanda’s sides, fingers exploring every curve with aching devotion. She wanted to worship her. To love her slowly. To taste and soothe and calm every inch of her.

But Wanda—

Wanda was losing it.

Her body was drenched with slick, thighs slippery and trembling with each breath. Her back arched under Y/N’s touch, her hips grinding into nothing, trying to chase the pressure that wasn’t there. Her walls fluttered desperately around emptiness, clenching and clenching and clenching, her body screaming for what only her Alpha could give.

And it hurt.

“Y/N—” Wanda gasped, her voice breaking into a whimper. “Please…”

Y/N’s breath hitched. “I know, baby. I know—”

“No,” Wanda cut her off, her voice high and desperate. She grabbed Y/N’s wrist with trembling fingers and dragged it between her thighs, right to where she was slick and hot and soaked. “Please—just—just put it in already!”

The whine that followed shattered Y/N’s self-control.

Wanda’s thighs were soaked, her core dripping and pulsing and unbearably tight, and the way her body begged for her—

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore.

“Okay,” she whispered roughly, voice almost shaking from how hard she was. “Okay, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”

She reached down, guiding herself slowly between Wanda’s legs, her member thick and throbbing, already slick with need. She rubbed the tip through Wanda’s folds, coating herself in the wetness that clung to her.

Wanda sobbed at the contact, hips jerking up. “Please, Alpha—please—”

Y/N leaned in, forehead pressed against Wanda’s, her breath hot and ragged. She pushed in slowly—inch by thick, pulsing inch—feeling Wanda stretch around her, impossibly tight, impossibly wet. Wanda’s walls clung to her like a vice, fluttering desperately with every inch that sank into her.

And then—

Fully buried.

Wanda’s body arched hard, a strangled moan tearing from her throat. Her fingers dug into Y/N’s shoulders, head thrown back as a wave of heat crashed through her—

Her first climax hitting the moment Y/N bottomed out.

She came with a cry, her slick gushing, her thighs trembling uncontrollably around Y/N’s hips.

But even as the orgasm rippled through her, Wanda’s face twisted—not in satisfaction, but in frustration.

“More,” she gasped, panting against Y/N’s lips. “God—it’s not enough—please—it’s not enough—”

Y/N cursed under her breath, feeling Wanda’s walls still pulsing greedily around her. She was right. This heat—this one was deeper. Her Omega was starved, aching beyond what one climax could tame.

Wanda whimpered, grinding up into her, desperate and wild. “Y/N, please—I need it. I need you to move—harder—deeper—don’t stop—”

Y/N’s instincts roared to the surface.

She gripped Wanda’s hips tight, her jaw clenched as she pulled back only to slam back in—deep and fast. Wanda screamed, hands gripping harder on Y/N’s back.

Y/N pressed her lips to Wanda’s ear, voice low and rough, almost feral. “You’re not gonna stop cumming, baby. Not tonight.”

Wanda sobbed out something unintelligible, her body already tensing again—chasing, always chasing, what she needed most.

And Y/N would give it to her.

Over and over and over again.

Y/N snapped her hips forward again, harder this time—deeper—her movements sharp and relentless, driven by every whimper, every plea Wanda gave her. The slick sounds of their bodies meeting echoed through the room, obscene and raw, mixing with Wanda’s cries.

Wanda was soaked—her thighs sticky, the nest beneath them damp and clinging. Her body met every thrust with desperate need, arching into Y/N, taking every inch like it still wasn’t enough.

“F-Fuck—Detka—” she choked out, sobbing now, her nails clawing at Y/N’s back. “I c-can’t— it’s too much—but…not enough—”

Y/N kissed the corner of her mouth, feral and loving. “You can, baby. You’re doing so good—taking me so well. Let go again. Come for me.”

She shifted her angle slightly, tilting Wanda’s hips up just enough—and slammed back in. Wanda screamed, her body locking up as another orgasm tore through her.

And still—her heat didn’t let go.

Still aching. Still pulsing. Still pulling for more.

Wanda was crying now, helpless in the best and worst way—drenched in pleasure, frustration, instinct. Her heat had her in a chokehold, and only her Alpha could free her.

Y/N’s mind clouded with instinct. Her body moved on autopilot, rutting into Wanda with raw, possessive need. Her fangs throbbed in her jaw. Her knot was swelling at the base, pressing against Wanda’s entrance with each thrust—threatening to lock, to claim her again.

“Do you want it?” she growled lowly, lips brushing Wanda’s jaw. “My knot. Tell me.”

Wanda’s legs wrapped around her waist like a vice, her walls spasming hard around her cock. “Yes,” she sobbed, “I want it—I want everything, detka—please—just give me all of you—”

That was it.

Y/N let her weight fall forward, driving in with one final thrust—her knot popping past the tight ring of muscles.

Wanda screamed in pleasure as her body locked around her Alpha, her womb clenching greedily, milking every inch of her.

They were tied.

And Wanda came again—violently. Her back arched off the nest, her vision whiting out, every nerve alight with fire as slick poured down her thighs.

Y/N held her through it, panting, whispering broken praise against her skin. “That’s it, sweetheart. You’re mine. My Omega. So fucking perfect—”

Wanda was shaking, her body still trying to move even though she couldn’t. Her heat was still simmering beneath the surface—but her Alpha was inside her now. Knotted. Holding her. Filling her.

Safe.

Claimed.

Wanda’s body convulsed once more, her final orgasm leaving her limp and gasping, barely coherent. Her limbs trembled around Y/N, her breath shallow against her mate’s skin. Her thighs twitched faintly, but her grip around Y/N was weak now—spent.

And then…

She went still.

Y/N felt it happen—felt the way Wanda’s body gave in completely. Not out of distress, but from sheer exhaustion. Her Omega’s heat-fueled high had burned through her like wildfire, and now that she was safely knotted, claimed, and filled—

She was sound asleep.

Y/N softened immediately, instinctively wrapping her arms around her, cradling her gently in the center of the messy, drenched nest. She could feel her knot still locked inside—pulsing faintly, keeping them tied. Wanda whimpered once in her sleep, a tiny sound, then burrowed her face against Y/N’s neck like she couldn’t bear any distance, even unconscious.

Y/N stroked her hair softly, whispering, “Rest now, my love… I’ve got you.”

Time passed—slow and warm and quiet. Wanda’s breathing steadied, deepened. The scent of heat still clung to the air, but the wild edge had dulled.

Eventually, Y/N felt her knot begin to soften. The pressure eased. She pressed a gentle kiss to Wanda’s forehead and carefully pulled back, moving with the slow reverence of someone handling something sacred.

Wanda whined faintly in her sleep, shifting with a furrowed brow, but didn’t wake.

Y/N looked down and her heart clenched—her Omega was a mess. Both their cum coated her thighs, her inner skin red and puffy from overstimulation. Her body was still twitching occasionally, even in sleep.

So Y/N got to work.

She reached for the towel she’d stashed near the nest for moments like this—heat season protocol—and cleaned Wanda with infinite care. Every swipe was gentle, her touch respectful, even reverent. She murmured apologies each time Wanda stirred, though her Omega never fully woke.

Once Wanda was clean and dry, Y/N pulled her close again, settling them deep into the center of the nest. She didn’t bother cleaning herself off—not yet. That could wait.

What mattered was Wanda.

Y/N lay back against the plush, crumpled pile of clothes and blankets, drawing Wanda into her chest. One hand splayed protectively across Wanda’s bare back, the other curling into her soft hair.

And sure enough…

Wanda latched on.

Even in sleep, her fingers clutched at Y/N’s side, her leg tossed possessively over her Alpha’s hip. Her breath came out in a long, content sigh—like her body finally believed it was safe.

Y/N smiled softly to herself.

She knew how it would go. Wanda’s heat would come in waves. She might sleep for a few hours now, but as soon as the next wave hit, she’d wake needy again. And this clingy, unconscious grip?

It wasn’t going anywhere.

For the next week, Wanda would be latched to her like a vine. She wouldn’t sleep unless she was touching her. Wouldn’t eat unless Y/N fed her. Wouldn’t let her out of arm’s reach.

Y/N didn’t mind. Not even a little.

She pressed her lips to Wanda’s temple and whispered softly, “I’m not going anywhere, Omega. You’ve got me.”

And with Wanda’s heartbeat steady against her chest, Y/N finally let herself fall asleep, too.

Wrapped in scent.

Wrapped in love.

Wrapped in the bond that tethered them—Alpha and Omega—so tightly it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

---

Few Hours Later

Y/N was dreaming—something slow, warm, and hazy. Wanda’s scent was everywhere, wrapping around her like silk, thick and cloying with sweetness and spice. Her body was heavy with exhaustion, muscles sore in the best way, but something tugged her from the edges of sleep.

Something wet.

Warm.

Moving.

She blinked awake, breath catching in her throat—and the sight that greeted her almost knocked the air out of her lungs.

Wanda was on top of her.

Straddling her hips, completely bare, her flushed skin glowing in the low light of the room. Her lips were parted, cheeks pink, sweat already glistening at her temple. Her lashes fluttered, and her bottom lip jutted out in a soft pout.

She was whimpering, rocking her hips in shallow little movements, clearly trying to behave—but failing.

“Y/N…” she whispered, voice thick with heat and tears and unbearable need. “You weren’t waking up…”

Y/N’s hands instinctively came to rest on Wanda’s hips, steadying her. She was already soaked, her slick coating both their thighs, and she was so tight around Y/N’s cock, having taken her fully without waking her.

Y/N let out a low groan. “God, baby…”

Wanda whimpered again, her walls fluttering around her desperately. “I tried to wait. I really did…”

She sniffled, pout trembling. “But I needed you so bad, and you were just lying there, and I couldn’t—I can’t do this by myself…I need my Alpha—”

Y/N sat up in an instant, wrapping her arms tightly around her trembling Omega, her lips pressing firm and reassuring kisses to Wanda’s jaw, cheek, temple.

“I’m here now,” she breathed. “I’ve got you, moya lyubov’. You did so good.”

Wanda’s fingers clenched at Y/N’s shoulders as she rocked her hips again—needier now, almost frantic. “Please,” she whispered. “Please just hold me and let me come—I’m gonna break if I don’t—”

Y/N growled, low and protective, her hands guiding Wanda’s movements, anchoring her. “You don’t have to break, baby. I’ll give you everything. Again and again until this heat has nothing left to burn.”

She kissed Wanda hard, fangs grazing her bottom lip, then thrust up—once. Deep. Wanda let out a strangled sob and clung to her.

And then—

They moved together.

Wanda riding her with trembling thighs, her eyes wide and glossy, her body already fluttering on the edge of climax again. Y/N’s hands never left her hips, grounding her. Worshiping her.

This heat was far from over.

But Y/N would be there.

Every time Wanda woke up aching.

Every time her body cried out for her Alpha.

Y/N would be there.

Wanda rode her with a shaky rhythm, hips rolling as best as her trembling muscles allowed, whimpers slipping from her lips like prayers. Her head tilted back, sweat beading at her throat, chest heaving with every shaky breath.

Y/N couldn’t look away.

Her Omega was divine like this—completely unguarded, flushed and needy and full of her. Every time she sank down, she clenched tight around Y/N’s length, sopping wet and pulsing, like her body still hadn’t recovered from the last wave. Slick was dripping down her thighs, pooling under them, soaking the already-ruined nest.

“Detka—” Wanda sobbed, trying to ride faster but stumbling. “I-I can’t—m-my legs—”

“I’ve got you,” Y/N growled, voice low and feral.

In one fluid motion, she shifted, gripping Wanda’s thighs and lifting her slightly, then began thrusting up from beneath—deep, powerful strokes that had Wanda gasping, moaning, breaking.

Wanda collapsed forward into her chest, holding on tight as Y/N fucked her through the wave, each snap of her hips deliberate and full, hitting the spot that made Wanda cry out helplessly.

“I can feel you—s-so deep,” Wanda babbled, tears slipping down her cheeks. “F-filling me up again—My Alpha, please, I’m gonna—gonna—”

Y/N could feel it. The way Wanda’s walls were tightening even more, fluttering erratically around her, her Omega body desperately milking her for release, her heat spiraling out of control again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Y/N whispered into her ear, voice wrecked with love and lust. “Let go for me. Come on my cock again—so I can give you what you need.”

And Wanda shattered.

Her entire body convulsed, back arching with a scream as she came violently—her climax ripping through her like lightning, slick pouring down over Y/N’s thighs. Her walls clamped so tightly that Y/N nearly lost it herself, groaning loudly as she thrust deep and stayed there.

Wanda twitched in her arms, moaning brokenly as she trembled through the aftershocks, completely overwhelmed.

Y/N held her close, kissing her temple over and over. “Good girl. You did so good. I’ve got you.”

Wanda sobbed softly, body limp now, breath stuttering in her chest.

Y/N didn’t move yet—she stayed buried deep, letting Wanda ride out the last ripples of her orgasm while gently rubbing her back.

“Too much?” Y/N murmured.

Wanda shook her head, eyes closed, lips swollen and parted. “N-No. Just—don’t pull out yet. Please. Just stay. I feel so full when you’re inside…”

Y/N kissed her again and nodded. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

She cradled Wanda in her arms, still joined, her Alpha instincts humming in contentment.

Because this?

This was what she was made for.

---

Three days into Wanda’s heat, and Y/N was running on pure instinct.

Her hair was a mess. Her body ached in places she didn’t know could ache. Her hips were sore, her thighs burnt out, and every muscle in her lower back screamed for mercy.

But none of that mattered, because Wanda was still going.

Right now, she had her Omega bent forward in the nest, on her hands and knees, Y/N still buried deep inside her—sweat-slicked and slow-thrusting, letting Wanda take what she needed as she rocked her hips back against her.

The room smelled like heat, sex, slick and them. Days of it. Raw and intense and primal.

Y/N grabbed the massive bottle of water they kept in the room for this—a full two-liter—and lifted it to her mouth.

She drank half of it in one go.

Then paused. Gasped. Drank the rest.

Wanda whimpered in front of her, her back arching, her hips grinding back impatiently. “Don’t stop,” she pouted, her voice thick and hoarse. “Detka, I still need you…”

Y/N let out a deep, winded groan and leaned over her Omega’s back, pressing a lazy kiss to her shoulder. “Baby, I love you, but if I don’t hydrate, I’m going to die.”

Wanda just whimpered, still rocking her hips back onto Y/N like her body didn’t know how to stop anymore.

Y/N held her gently in place with one hand on her waist and leaned forward again, voice warm but firm. “You need to drink too. Now.”

Wanda let out a little annoyed whine but obeyed, reaching shakily for her bottle. She drank greedily, nearly sloshing it onto the nest, her lips shiny and jaw trembling.

Y/N watched her with a fond, exhausted smile.

When Wanda finished and flopped forward onto her forearms, hips still raised, Y/N gently slipped out—ignoring the way Wanda cried out in protest.

“I’ll be back,” she promised, stroking Wanda’s back. “You need food. We need food. You can’t live on my knot alone, sweetheart.”

Wanda grumbled something unintelligible into the pillow that sounded suspiciously like, “I could try…”

Y/N chuckled, wobbling a little as she stood on shaky legs, thighs definitely not ready for another marathon round.

She limped her way to their private storage—where they’d prepared exactly for this kind of emergency with protein bars, fruit, electrolytes, and pre-cooked meals sealed in containers. The “heat kit.” She silently thanked past-them for having the foresight.

As she loaded up a tray, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

Wanda was still in position, face buried in a pile of Y/N’s shirts, her ass raised invitingly like her body just refused to register the pause.

Y/N smirked to herself and muttered, “One meal… then we’re back at it, huh?”

She grabbed some bananas and a few granola bars—fuel first. Then knot.

Y/N walked back into the room, tray balanced in one hand, still naked and sore as hell, but determined. She stepped over the mess of clothes and towels they hadn’t bothered to clean, heading back toward the center of the nest where her very clingy, very insatiable Omega was waiting.

Wanda was exactly where Y/N left her.

Down on her elbows, ass still raised, back arched beautifully, slick glistening between her thighs. Her hips gave a little twitch as she heard Y/N approaching, like her body knew.

Y/N huffed out a laugh and set the tray down beside them. “You’re gonna kill me, you know that?”

Wanda lifted her head, dazed eyes blinking slowly. Her lips were swollen, cheeks flushed, hair wild and curling in every direction.

“You left me,” she mumbled in the smallest, saddest voice imaginable.

“I was gone for two minutes.”

“Too long,” she pouted, butt giving another slow little grind like she didn’t even know she was doing it.

Y/N settled down behind her, brushing sweaty hair off Wanda’s neck and leaning in to kiss her spine. “Eat something and I’ll be nice to you,” she murmured. “Keep doing that thing with your hips and I’ll lose all sense of reason.”

Wanda turned her head just enough to flash her a cheeky, heat-drunk smile. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Y/N groaned and reached for a protein bar. She unwrapped it and held it to Wanda’s lips. “Open.”

Wanda obeyed, biting down obediently but never taking her eyes off Y/N, even as she chewed. She looked ridiculously cute, naked in the nest, cheeks full like a squirrel, staring at her Alpha like she was dessert.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable,” Y/N muttered, holding up a banana next.

Wanda nibbled that too, sucking on the tip just a little too playfully.

Y/N stared. “That was a threat, wasn’t it?”

Wanda chewed and smiled sweetly. “I would never.”

“Mhm.”

Y/N handed her a drink, and Wanda took a few gulps before wiping her mouth on her arm and—yep—immediately started wiggling her hips again.

Y/N set the food tray aside and exhaled dramatically, flopping back onto the nest beside her. “You have no off switch.”

Wanda turned, crawling into her lap, still flushed and purring from her core. She curled into Y/N like a cat, all limbs and heat and instinct, pressing kisses to her Alpha’s throat.

“I’m just… still really full of need,” she whispered, nuzzling her. “But I’m also full of granola now. That counts as balance, right?”

Y/N snorted, wrapping her arms around her. “That’s Omega logic.”

“I’m in heat,” Wanda said sweetly. “That means I’m always right.”

And as Wanda slid her thigh over Y/N’s lap again, lips already trailing down her collarbone, Y/N knew:

Food or not, rest or not, she wasn’t getting out of this bed anytime soon.

---

The sun was just beginning to rise when it finally broke.

The air in their shared room was still thick with scent—Alpha musk and fading Omega sweetness mingling with sweat, slick, and love—but the edge had softened. No more sharp pulses of need. No more desperate whines or trembling thighs.

Just silence.

Stillness.

Peace

Y/N stirred slowly, her body aching in that deep, dull way that came after too much exertion. Muscles heavy, throat dry, lips bruised from endless kisses. She blinked open her eyes to soft morning light and—

Wanda

Curled up in the mess of their nest, pressed tight to her chest, cheek resting just below Y/N’s collarbone. Her breathing was even, gentle. Her legs tangled possessively around Y/N’s hips, arms folded between them, face soft in sleep.

And for the first time in nearly a week… she was cool.

Her skin wasn’t burning. Her scent wasn’t laced with fire and pheromones. Her thighs were no longer slick with instinct-driven arousal.

Her heat had passed.

Y/N exhaled slowly, threading her fingers through Wanda’s wild hair. “You made it,” she whispered.

Wanda stirred a little, then blinked open her eyes.

“Mmnnnnh…” she groaned softly, voice wrecked and raspy, so hoarse it barely made sound. “What time is it…?”

“Too early,” Y/N replied, brushing her thumb gently over Wanda’s cheek. “Go back to sleep, baby.”

Wanda blinked again, eyes glassy but focused now—really seeing Y/N. She smiled, soft and small.

“It’s over,” she whispered, almost in disbelief.

Y/N nodded, her voice thick with tenderness. “Yeah. You’re okay now.”

Wanda’s bottom lip trembled just slightly, exhaustion catching up with her in a wave. She pressed closer into her Alpha’s chest, burying her face there, breathing in deep.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “For staying. For… everything.”

Y/N kissed the top of her head. “You think I’d leave you during that? You’re stuck with me, my Omega.”

Wanda made a sleepy, satisfied noise. “Good.”

Her body went slack again, finally able to rest for real. Not just from exhaustion, but from the relief of no longer fighting her own biology. She was sore. She was empty. But she was safe. And full of love.

And her Alpha was still holding her.

Y/N watched her for a long while, fingers tracing lazy patterns on Wanda’s back, heart full.

Then finally, she closed her eyes too.

And in the center of their destroyed nest, wrapped in each other’s scent, the Alpha and Omega drifted into the first true sleep they'd had in days.

Together.

Always.

---

Later

The hot water poured down over their bodies in soft waves, steam curling into the air like a blanket around them. Wanda leaned heavily against Y/N, arms loose around her waist, head tucked beneath her chin, her entire body pliant and warm in her Alpha’s arms.

Y/N stood behind her, supporting her gently, one hand combing through Wanda’s damp hair while the other held the loofah, slowly running it along Wanda’s side with a kind of reverent care.

They hadn’t said much when they woke. Just a quiet kiss. A soft groan. Wanda had mumbled something about feeling like she’d been hit by a truck, and Y/N had just laughed, scooping her up bridal style and carrying her straight to the shower.

Now they stood under the gentle stream of water, letting the heat soak into their aching muscles.

Wanda sighed. “You’re spoiling me.”

“I just lived through six days of mating press and desperate moaning,” Y/N teased, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Let me have this.”

Wanda laughed sleepily, then tilted her head up, eyes fluttering open. Her gaze dropped to Y/N’s chest and shoulders—and she blinked.

“Oh.”

Her fingers brushed over one of the deeper bite marks on Y/N’s collarbone. There were more—faint bruises along her ribs, red lines from clawed nails down her back, fading bites near her neck. They were everywhere.

“I did all that?” she asked softly, guilt slipping into her voice.

Y/N raised a brow and shrugged, water dripping from her jaw. “Yeah. You were a menace.”

“I’m sorry,” Wanda murmured, looking up at her through damp lashes. “I didn’t mean to leave that many…”

Y/N chuckled, brushing her thumb gently across Wanda’s cheek. “I didn’t say I minded.”

Then, with a cheeky little grin, she spun Wanda around so they both faced the mirror across from the shower.

Wanda blinked at her reflection, then gasped.

Her back.

Covered.

There were bite marks trailing down from her shoulder blades to her waist—some shallow, some deep, one or two that looked like Y/N had really lost herself for a moment. Her hips bore fading bruises from where strong hands had gripped too tight, and the inside of her thighs were still marked with faint finger-shaped prints.

Wanda’s mouth fell open. “Oh my god—you were worse!”

Y/N smirked behind her, chin resting on her shoulder. “Exactly. So let’s call it even.”

Wanda flushed, equal parts mortified and pleased. “I look like I got attacked by a wild animal.”

“You did,” Y/N murmured into her ear, voice dropping low. “And you liked it.”

Wanda groaned and swatted at her arm, but didn’t move away—leaning back into her mate’s chest with a playful pout.

“You’re impossible.”

Y/N grinned and pressed a soft kiss to her damp cheek. “But I take good care of you.”

Wanda hummed. “That part’s true.”

They stayed like that a little longer—letting the water wash away the remnants of their week-long storm, wrapped in each other, safe and full of something deeper than instinct.

Love.

---

I don't see much Omega Wanda, so I needed to make one. Let me know if you want more with A/B/O dynamic!

[jokeconic]

practical magic - wanda maximoff oneshots

summary: study nights with wanda were supposed to be all about magic theory… until you discover the private magic Wanda’s been exploring - and what she’s been using it for.

warnings: smut, bottom!wanda, enchanted strap; overstimulation; suggestive dialogue; fingering; creampie; vampire feeding; mild roughness; humorous, soft aftercare; friends to lovers; emotional intimacy; reader is a vampire | words: 6.388k

a/n-> accidentally posted the unfished version before, just pretend i didn't. this was written with a mission, we need more bottom wanda fics.

General Masterlist | AO3 |

-&-

You've been friends with Wanda for a little over three years now.

When she officially joined the Avengers, you were still elbow-deep in the impossible task of recruiting more witches for what was not-quite-yet a coven. Agatha refused to call it that - “a nosy vampire and three witches who had one joint spell session does not a coven make,” she'd scoffed.

She had a point. The so-called group was mostly chaos: Agatha and the girls argued every other day, Jen technically wasn’t doing magic anymore, and Lilia had a rather violent aversion to the concept of community, possibly because of the whole plague situation. Still, you were trying. Someone had to.

So when the new Avengers were announced and vampire networks started buzzing about humans playing gods again, it wasn’t just politics or prophecy that drew your attention. It was the unmistakable pulse of magic laced in Wanda’s powers, bright and wild and untrained.

The others warned you against mingling with the superhero crowd, especially dragging magic into mortal affairs. But as usual, you ignored them. You knocked on the Tower’s door anyway - literally - and extended an invitation to the witch who didn’t yet know she was one.

Wanda had resisted the label as much as your group had resisted hers. But something softened over time. Bit by bit, routine rooted itself in the quiet moments: delivering spellbooks to the Avengers Tower every week, practicing basics on quiet Sunday mornings, sharing rituals and stories passed down through your centuries-long memory.

You grew close. Agatha would tease - “maybe too close,” always with that knowing lilt - but you both pretended not to hear her.

Which is how you found yourself, for the fourth time this week, sprawled across Wanda’s bed like you belonged there, magical books open in a circle around you. One hand flipped a page absently while the other nursed a stolen blood bag (donation room, New York Hospital - nobody missed it).

You looked up just as the door creaked open. Wanda entered slowly, flushed from her last training session of the day. Hair tousled, breath caught halfway between a sigh and a laugh, she offered you a soft, worn-out smile.

“I guess you don’t do doors anymore, huh?” she asked, voice light but teasing.

You paused mid-drink, fangs still out, mouth curved in a guilty little grin that made her look away too fast. She found sudden interest in the dirt on her sneakers.

“Portals are more efficient,” you said with a lazy blink.

Wanda smiled despite herself, that warm kind of smile she tried to hide. “Make yourself at home,” she muttered, already peeling her hoodie off, adding over her shoulder as she headed to the bathroom, “As usual.”

You mumbled something back - half smirk, half acknowledgment - but your attention had already started to slip.

The blood was sweet, warm enough to relax every taut line in your shoulders. You let your head tip back, fangs still buried in plastic, arm tucked under your neck, legs crossed at the ankles in the middle of her bed like you lived there.

Maybe you did, in a way.

You didn’t mean to listen. You didn’t try to notice the way her footsteps padded across the carpet, or the soft rustle of clothing falling to the floor. You didn’t mean to hear the sigh she let out as the hot water hit her back - or the way the scent of soap slowly replaced sweat, steam curling through the air like incense.

But you noticed anyway.

It wasn’t the first time you found yourself a little too aware of Wanda. Of the way her energy shifted when she entered a room. Of how the scent of her skin after a shower made your brain short-circuit for reasons you refused to unpack.

You blamed the blood. It was easier.

You discarded the empty bag in the container she’d sweetly labeled for you months ago - “blood trash 🩸🗑️ only” - and made a valiant effort to gather the books. Your limbs felt too relaxed to cooperate. Your brain, fogged with warmth and the remnants of adrenaline, wandered somewhere it shouldn’t.

She could skip tonight’s lesson. You weren’t really in a teaching mood, anyway. A movie under the covers sounded more tempting by the second.

By the time Wanda stepped back into the room, towel around her neck and damp hair dripping onto her collarbone, you’d transformed the bed into a cozy nest. Pillows fluffed, blankets piled just right, snacks from the Tower kitchen arranged with near reverence on a tray between the two of you.

Wanda’s gaze softened instantly.

“You spoil me, you know that?” she murmured, walking past you with bare feet and warm skin. One hand ruffled her damp hair, while the other reached out to give your shoulder a playful squeeze. The casual intimacy of it sent a flutter through your chest you definitely ignored.

She climbed into bed with a tired sigh, half-buried herself under the covers, and smiled at the little altar of treats you’d made for her.

“Although I love it… if I keep skipping our lessons like this, I’ll only learn the fundamentals by the time I’m thirty.”

You smile at her, the corners of your mouth twitching with playful softness as you click your tongue.

“We can do a whole day of studying tomorrow,” you say, voice low and warm as your fingers move to the buttons of your shirt. “Tonight, I can sense the exhaustion in your skin, sweetheart. You deserve a break.”

There’s the faintest blush on her cheeks at the nickname - she pretends to focus on drying her hair, but you catch the way her eyes flick toward your hands.  Your shirt is halfway unbuttoned now, revealing a smooth stretch of skin.

Wanda’s brow furrows almost instantly.

“What are you doing?” she asks, eyes narrowing as if trying to read your intentions.

You shrug, lips twitching upward in mock innocence. “Getting more comfortable for bed?”

She lets out a breath of a laugh, light but incredulous, her gaze trailing, just for a second, along the exposed line of your collarbone before she catches herself and lifts a finger in warning.

“I know you came here straight from one of your vampire errands. There is no way you’re sleeping in my bed with whatever blood-slicked demon germs you picked up tonight.”

“But I was already in there - ”

Her look is sharp. Final. You sigh, dramatic and defiant, arms dropping to your sides.

“Fine,” you mutter, letting your shirt fall open completely as you pad toward the bathroom. She calls after you, “Towels are in the bottom drawer!” - with a grin in her voice that only deepens when you growl back, “I know where the goddamn towels are.”

Wanda’s still chuckling softly to herself when her eyes catch a glimpse of your silhouette in the ajar door.

She was not expecting the sound of the shower to affect her the way it does - soft splashes, the shift of your body behind thin walls, steam curling like lazy magic through the cracks. Her mouth goes dry. She tells herself to focus on the screen. Instead, she finds herself watching the way your shadow moves behind the glass.

By the time you return, the scent of her shampoo lingers on your skin, mingling with the heat of the shower in a way that’s almost intimate. Familiar. Her breath catches when she glances up - and then immediately flicks her gaze away again.

You step into the room like it’s yours, skin still damp, droplets trailing down your collarbone and disappearing beneath the towel slung low around your waist. You hum under your breath, hair dripping onto your shoulders, leaving little wet marks on her floor.

Wanda makes the mistake of looking again - just a peek - and nearly chokes on her own breath.

You don’t seem to notice. Or maybe you do. It’s hard to tell with you.

A low chuckle slips from your throat as you move toward her dresser, digging through drawers like you’ve done a hundred times. “What the hell are you watching, Maximoff?”

Her eyes go wide, a guilty flush creeping up her neck. She thinks you caught her - thinks the heat in her chest must be visible somehow. But you add, casual as ever, “Your heart just skipped. Don’t tell me you’re scaring yourself with horror movies again.”

Lucky. Very lucky.

Wanda exhales, relief blooming like smoke. “Guilty,” she says quickly, flashing a nervous smile as she gestures to the screen. It’s some old monster flick - practical effects, over-the-top gore, and all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Something Natasha lent her as a joke.

You glance over your shoulder and laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s what got you riled up? Weak.”

She’s about to retort, something equally sarcastic on the tip of her tongue, when you let the towel drop.

Wanda stops breathing.

There’s nothing between her and the sight of your bare back, the elegant lines of muscle, the quiet strength carved into your form like poetry.

She’s seen you naked before. You were once a maid, then a pirate after your transformation - sharing cramped quarters with others became second nature, which explains your complete lack of modesty when it comes to nudity. But for Wanda, lately, it’s felt less like a habit and more like a divine trial of restraint.

You don’t seem bothered. Not at all. You stretch, slow and cat-like, and turn just enough for her to see the faint veins beneath your skin beginning to darken, the glow in your eyes blooming red for a heartbeat.

“Honestly,” you say, voice lower now, more playful, “I don’t know why you’re impressed. You’ve seen me transform a hundred times. Real-life horror movie, free show just for you.”

To prove your point, you flash her a half-formed vampiric grin - sharp fangs, darkened veins webbing lightly across your cheeks, just enough to make her pulse stutter.

Wanda groans, her thighs pressing together under the blankets as she throws herself dramatically onto the pillows. “Don’t do that,” she mutters, eyes squeezing shut. “You’re gonna give me nightmares.”

You laugh again, completely unbothered.

What she doesn’t see - what she misses, because she’s too busy pretending she’s annoyed and not aroused - is the way your eyes linger on her just a second longer than necessary. The way your smile softens when she hides her face in the pillows. The way your hands move a little slower now, as if savoring the comfort of being here, in her space, like it’s something sacred.

Wanda makes the mistake of not noticing where your hands are searching now. She’s too distracted by her own thoughts - by the fire licking at her skin, the way her body is betraying her with every heartbeat.

You find a shirt that’s comfortably oversized - definitely Wanda’s - and pull it over your head. As you fold a few other pieces and rummage through the drawer for something else to borrow, your fingers close around something far too structured to be clothing.

You freeze for a second. Then a slow, wicked grin curls your lips.

You’ve shared a house with Agatha Harkness for more than a century - there are very few enchanted accessories you haven’t seen. And besides, you lived through the entire pro-discovery, post-puritan, human-rights-to-sexuality era, so your fingers wrap around the leather strap with practiced curiosity rather than shock.

But enchanted magical straps? Those are always tethered to the witch who conjured them.

So when your hand tightens around it and lifts it ever so slightly from the drawer, you don’t miss the snap of Wanda’s head in your direction - eyes wide, mouth parting slightly in panic, cheeks already flushed a deep rose.

“Well, well,” you begin, voice dripping amusement, “what do we have here - ”

Before you can finish the sentence, the item yanks itself from your hand with a rush of scarlet magic and flies back into the drawer, which slams shut with finality.

You burst into laughter, fully delighted.

“Oh my god, Wanda. You don’t have to panic like that!”

“Shut up,” she hisses, crossing the room fast - but her voice is trembling and her face is practically glowing red. “Not a word about this!”

“Too late,” you grin, teasing mercilessly. “I love that you’re getting creative with your magic. Really taking your spellwork into… practical territory.”

She groans, turning away from you, face buried in her hands for a moment.

“I knew Agatha would be a terrible influence when I brought you into the coven,” you continue, folding your arms, expression mock-thoughtful.

Wanda wheels around, cheeks still pink. “Agatha has actually been… very mature about this. Extremely helpful.” She points at you, flustered but trying to sound stern. “You’re the one being insufferable.”

Your grin only widens as her hands press to your shoulders, gently but insistently trying to steer you away from the closet. You’re still laughing, still half-dressed, still entirely enjoying yourself.

But then you cheat.

Vampire speed kicks in, and in a blur, you’ve crossed the room, the object once again dangling from your fingers. Wanda’s horrified gasp echoes off the walls.

“Y/N!”

You hold it up between two fingers, smile cocky, eyes glittering with mischief. “You do know Agatha invented this spell, right? I’m just curious - did she teach you all the tricks, or just the basics?”

Wanda groans in frustration. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

But she doesn’t use her magic to pin you down, not yet. She’s chasing you the mortal way, half-hearted, half-laughing through her mortification, her fingers swiping at the air just inches from your hand every time you dodge.

“Come on,” you tease, voice lilting. “We’re all adults here. Sex is natural. Magic-enhanced sex? Even better.”

“You’re the absolute worst. Worse than Agatha.”

You laugh harder, and that’s when she finally has enough - her magic tugs sharply at your wrist, yanking your arm down and finally letting her seize the toy. But as her fingers close over it, so do yours. Neither of you lets go.

Your eyes meet.

There’s a sudden shift - like the breath is sucked from the room. The laughter lingers on your lips, but something deeper pulses underneath. You tilt your head slightly, tone dropping lower, velvety.

“As your mentor, Wanda… It’s only natural I keep up with the kinds of spells you’ve been exploring.” Your voice is a caress now, the teasing thick with heat. “I just want to make sure you’re reaching your full potential.”

Her breath hitches - she feels the pulse of magic through the toy, the heat it responds to like a heartbeat. Her heartbeat.

You step a little closer, gaze locked to hers. “I could’ve helped you, you know. If you’d told me about this. We could’ve crafted something together. Something designed just for you.”

Her fingers tremble where they hold the object. She tries to speak, but it comes out as a half-broken, “I - I…”

You let go of the strap and take her wrist instead, the shift in contact gentle but commanding. Your other hand rises slowly, carefully, to cup her cheek, and she leans into the touch before she can stop herself.

Your thumb strokes her jaw, and when you speak again, your voice is barely a whisper, warm with sincerity beneath the sultry lilt.

“It’s no problem, really. I still know a few tricks… and I’d be more than happy to teach you. If you want me to.”

There’s a question in your eyes - no pressure, no assumption, just quiet patience. Wanda stares at you, breath shallow, caught between the rhythm of her own desire and the weight of her affection for you. You’re looking at her like she hung the stars, like you’d follow her anywhere if she only asked.

Her voice fails her again. So she nods, slowly.

And the way your smile shifts - softer, sweeter, reverent - makes her stomach flip.

“Oh, Wanda,” you murmur, voice like a promise. “The things I’d do for you... If you only asked.”

Her heart skips.

The hand you still have around her wrist begins to guide hers lower, slowly, deliberately - until it rests just above your waist. Wanda’s breath catches, her lungs refusing to function properly under the pressure of what that might mean. Her mind is racing ahead, heart in her throat, and nothing - nothing - prepares her for what you do instead.

“We’ll have time for you to lead another night,” you murmur, your voice raspy, grounding, commanding in the softest way. “Right now, I’m the one in charge.”

It’s only then that Wanda looks down to where her hand connects with yours, and the sight stops her breath entirely.

The strap, deep crimson and laced with faint magical etchings, is no longer simply something she was holding. It’s now fastened snugly to your body, the enchanted harness shimmering with scarlet runes, secured perfectly around your hips like it belonged there all along. Magic. Old, tailored magic. Magic that listens to arousal.

Her fingers twitch, then squeeze instinctively - and your body jolts forward slightly with a soft, fractured groan.

Wanda’s mouth falls open.

“I bet she didn’t teach you this trick,” you manage through your teeth, your smile strained by the pleasure that flashes visibly across your features.

Wanda doesn’t reply right away. She just releases the strap, palms sliding up to your shoulders instead - firm, grounding, trembling with adrenaline and something deeper. Her eyes lock with yours, voice low but resolute.

“Please stop talking about other people.”

And you’d agree to anything she asked in that moment.

The kiss she gives you is tentative at first, almost uncertain - like she’s afraid you’ll pull away, even though she’s the one fully dressed and you’re still barefoot and mostly naked in her bedroom. Her lips brush yours gently, a silent question.

But when she pulls back, cheeks flushed, eyes searching your face for any flicker of hesitation, you only stare at her like she’s the answer to a question you’ve been afraid to ask for centuries. You don’t need telepathy to know what she’s thinking: Am I crossing a line?

You don’t let her linger in that doubt. Your hands are already cupping her face, guiding her back to you. This time, the kiss is deeper, hungry in the way repressed feelings always are, tender in the way confessions often feel.

It’s the kind of kiss that anchors you. That rewrites the air in the room.

You lose yourselves in it for a while, long minutes of breath shared, lips parting slowly, tongues moving with lazy, reverent rhythm. Wanda's fingers twist into your hair, nails grazing your scalp in ways that make your knees threaten betrayal. And yet it’s the way her hips start pressing forward, restless and seeking friction, that truly tests your restraint.

She’s beautiful like this - messy and warm and open. Lips swollen from your mouth, skin flushed from the weight of wanting. Her whole body hums against yours.

When you finally pull back, it’s only to bury your face in the slope of her neck, placing slow, burning kisses along her collarbone, each one landing with weight. She shudders, fingers tightening around your arms. You feel her lean into you, legs weakening.

Then your fang grazes her skin - barely, a passing scrape - but Wanda’s response is immediate: a high, needy whimper that stokes something primal in you.

“You can feed,” she whispers, breath hot in your ear as she tilts her neck for you. “I don’t mind.”

You close your eyes, inhaling slowly as your grip on her waist tightens. The scent of her skin, still laced with soap and arousal, clouds your thoughts.

“I already have,” you murmur against her throat, voice hushed with restraint. “I don’t really need more tonight.”

Your tongue replaces the fang, a slow, wet stroke against her pulse point - soothing. Grounding.

But Wanda doesn’t want you grounded.

She reaches down suddenly, hand wrapping firmly around the base of the strap between you. The pressure is immediate - blinding - and the groan that rips from your chest is not subtle.

Her voice drops an octave. Confident now. Taunting even.

“I’m offering,” she says, eyes gleaming. “Don’t be rude.”

The enchantment responds at once, feeding off her arousal and yours, sending waves of stimulation back into your body. Your knees nearly buckle at the sensation, and your fingers dig into her hips just to stay steady.

The room spins slightly, heat swirling around you like smoke, thick with magic and want. You swallow hard, regaining your footing - but your fangs have already dropped, lips parting as you hover at her neck again.

There’s something sacred about the way she leans in, baring her throat to you like it’s instinct.

And something dangerous about how much you want her.

She whines sharply and low,  the sound of it vibrating in your throat like a tether pulled too tight. Her back arches into you, desperate for friction, and just as your fangs sink into her neck with controlled precision, her fingers move again - this time teasing the very tip of the strap.

It’s too much. Too much.

A sharp jolt runs through you, spine tightening, and you lose your rhythm in feeding as your hips press forward on instinct. Wanda gasps, not from pain but from impact, because the two of you stumble across the room, limbs clumsy and tangled, until her back hits the wall with a dull thud.

You try. You try to keep your fangs in her skin, your lips at her throat, to hold your body in check and drink without falling apart - but she’s a natural at destruction. Her grip on the toy doesn’t loosen. She keeps moving her hand with shameless precision, masturbating you through the strap like she knows exactly what she’s doing. And maybe she does.

You’re panting against her throat now, ragged and struggling, blood thick on your tongue and arousal hotter than anything you’ve felt in decades. Her power sings under your skin, and it’s not magic, it’s her. Wanda.

She giggles - soft but wicked - and the sound is a spark to dry kindling.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” she purrs in your ear, voice molten. “Let go.”

Your fangs scrape her skin again, unintentionally, because your whole body is shaking from how tightly you’re holding the knot low in your belly.

“I want to see the big, bad vampire break for me.”

Then her tongue flicks your earlobe, her breath warm and wet. Her hand tightens once, twice - and it’s done.

You come undone in her hand with a raw, guttural groan. Your body convulses, the force of it dragging a cry from deep in your chest. One of your hands slams against the wall for balance, the strength behind it splintering the paint, your fingers flexing as your release pulses through you hard and hot. You’re left shaking, panting, head bowed against her shoulder, clinging to her waist like she’s the only thing keeping you from burning alive.

Wanda giggles again, and it’s unfair how pleased she sounds - mischief and something softer curled around her smile. Her hand finally goes still, slick with your cum, and when she lifts her palm to look at it, her expression flickers with something curious.

“I wasn’t sure that would happen,” she says, a little breathless, a little stunned. “But I’m definitely not disappointed.”

It takes a moment for your brain to connect the dots. She's not talking about the sex. Not exactly.

Her eyes flick back to yours, questioning but hesitant. “Is it…?”

She doesn’t finish the sentence. Doesn’t have to.

Still catching your breath, you manage a nod and a rough, low reply.

“Mine. Real. Yes.” Your voice is hoarse, but steady now. “Functions like the traditional kind… if you want it to. Witches have very creative, non-male methods for building families.”

You kiss her quickly, nothing but warmth, grounding yourself, then pull back, fingers pried from the wall with effort. Cracked drywall and bruised pride. But worth it.

Wanda’s biting her lip, the implications of your words flickering behind her eyes. It makes her look so devastatingly her -  intellect and feelings always working together. You use that second of distraction to inhale, gathering some of the control she just stole from you.

Not because you mind her leading. You don’t. You love it. But you're not about to let yourself lose control of your strength - not in this space. Not with her. She deserves better than unbridled force. She deserves intention.

You let the back of your knees find the bed, falling into a seated position, legs spread, arms behind you for balance.

The enchanted strap is still vibrating faintly between your thighs - hard and slick, pulsing in tune with the magic it fed off. A bit of your cum leaks down your thigh, gleaming in the soft lamplight.

You look up at her.

“Take off your clothes, darling.”

The flush that blooms over her cheeks spreads down her neck. Still, she doesn’t look away. Her hands move to the waistband of her pajama bottoms, fumbling slightly, awkward in a way that makes your stomach ache with affection.

You sigh, all heat and hunger.

“If you take too long,” you warn, “I’ll rip them off you.”

That gets her.

Wanda swallows hard, visibly trembling. She lets go, magic sparking in the air around her, and in one motion she’s out of her shorts. But her panties are still clinging to her hips when your patience runs out completely.

Your hand reaches up, fast, closing gently but firmly around her wrist. In one motion, you pull her down into your lap, chest to chest.

Centuries old. You've fought monsters, conquered cities, danced with death, and kissed gods. But nothing - nothing - compares to the feeling of Wanda Maximoff grinding into you, panting into your mouth, whispering your name like it’s holy and begging to be fucked.

Your grip on her waist tightens, enough to bruise if you weren't careful, but you’ve never been anything but careful with her. It’s hard when she’s like this, moving her hips in frantic circles, riding the enchanted strap nestled between your legs like her life depends on it.

You manage a breath, a brief second of stillness, just enough to let your mouth travel down her body. Open-mouthed kisses trace along her collarbones, then lower, tongue teasing one nipple, then the other. You suck her tits until she's trembling above you, grinding halted, too overwhelmed to do anything but shake and whimper under the weight of your mouth. Her hands dig into your hair, and her chest heaves, breaths ragged. You didn’t expect her to be this close already.

But because the strap is magically connected to her arousal, her orgasm takes you out of orbit. You don't come physically - but you feel it, the echo of it, the way the spell is designed to drag you along with her, the throbbing ache of your own desire flaring bright. Your hips jolt. You groan into her chest.

She whines, too, writhing, overwhelmed, and pretty sure she's going to combust if you don’t fuck her now.

“I need- ” she pants, trying to pull away just enough to yank off her panties, still in the way because you were too impatient before. But you grab her hips and hold her against the strap, grinding her down onto it. “I’m just - just trying to-”

You rip the fabric with a single swipe of your hand.

“Really?” she protests, glaring for a second. “Those were nice.”

But you’ve already flipped her onto her back, pinning her against the pillows. “I’ll buy you new ones,” you promise, eyes flicking down as your hands part her thighs. “I’ll buy you everything. The whole damn world if you want it.”

Wanda laughs, cheeks flushed. “God, you’re such a sweet talker.”

Scarlet sparks hum around her fingers as they tug your shirt away. Her hands hover nervously at her sides, the way they always do when she’s trying not to tremble.

“I’m not,” you murmur, gaze locked between her legs. You’re barely listening, distracted by the sight of her - dripping, swollen, aching for you. “I’m cranky. Suspicious. You just bring out the version of me worth loving.”

Her expression softens, and she reaches for you, not for a kiss, not for your hand.

No, she’s guiding you. Down, between her legs, until your fingers find her heat and sink inside with an obscene wet sound. She moans, breath hitching.

You take your time with this, one finger, slow and deliberate. Then two. Twisting, curling, finding the spot that makes her clench around you with a cry.

“I want- ”

“I know, baby.” You hush her, your voice thick. “Just stretching you first. You’ll take me easily like this.”

She mewls, hips stuttering, her hands clenching the sheets. And just as you're adjusting, the strap between your legs pulses hard - your body jerks, gasping. Wanda came again.

It’s fast, sharp - her body is too sensitive now - but it still rocks through her like a wave. Her cunt flutters around your fingers, and you don’t know how much longer you can wait.

“Please,” she begs, voice high and thin. “Please, I can’t-”

“I know, shh,” you murmur, soothing her while you line up the strap with her soaked entrance. You press the tip against her, barely nudging inside, dragging it through her slickness just to hear her whine. “You’re so ready for me. You’ve been ready.”

You try to keep teasing her, only because you can. Because centuries have taught you patience in the face of primal hunger.

But then-

Scarlet sparks push at your back, a rough shove that drives your hips forward. You sink in, deep, with a single sharp thrust.

Both of you cry out.

The strap fills her completely, pulsing with her magic, thick and hard and vibrating just enough to keep you both panting. Her heat wraps around you, squeezing like her body’s trying to keep you there forever. And you're a goner.

The bed creaks violently with each thrust. Your hips snap forward, steady and punishing. Wanda claws at your back - literal blood under her nails - but you barely feel it. She's shaking, gasping, her legs wrapped around your waist so tightly there's no air between your bodies.

You don’t relent.

Your pace is ruthless, fucking her deep, fucking her through it. The room smells like sex and magic and sweat, and your hand finds her clit mid-thrust. She sobs at the contact.

"Fuck-!" Her whole body jerks, her fourth orgasm slamming into her so hard the lights above flicker.

You falter, nearly losing rhythm, groaning against her throat. “Wanda-fuck-where should I-?”

“W-What?” she gasps, dazed.

“Should I pull out?” you manage. “Or - ”

“What?” she says again, this time angry. Offended. “Don’t you dare fucking stop, Y/N.”

Her ankles lock around you.

You don't argue. You can’t.

You slam into her, thrusting hard as your orgasm rushes through your whole body. You bury your face in her neck, a long, drawn-out groan leaving you as your hips roll forward, grinding deep inside.

The strap pulses, spilling your cum into her in thick, slow waves that make you both tremble.

Her cunt is a soaked mess around the toy, slick and clenching, and when your hips roll again just to stay grounded in her warmth, the wet noise that follows is so obscenely loud it makes her eyes roll back.

And still, she doesn’t let go of you. Doesn’t let you pull away. Her legs hold you in place, her magic curling around your spine.

You're both still struggling to breathe, lungs heavy with the weight of satisfaction, limbs warm and slack after the intensity of climax. But you fight the sleepiness clawing at your body - fight it hard - because Wanda lets out a soft, desperate whine when you try to pull away.

“I gotta pull out, sweetheart,” you murmur, biting back a groan when she clenches around the strap, undeniably on purpose. You push gently against her hips, trying to ease out of her hold.

“I don’t want you to,” she breathes, less demanding now, her voice languid and soaked in exhaustion. Her ankles have slipped from behind your back, but the longing in her tone still tugs at something primal inside you.

You laugh, quiet, honey-sweet and it makes her blush. So does the tender kiss you press just beneath her ear.

“Oh, I know you don’t, baby,” you whisper, adjusting slightly. The enchanted toy slides out of her, and you both sigh at the loss, overstimulated nerves fluttering. Your voice drops, playful but rough with restraint. “But this kind of magic runs on intention. And I’m having all sorts of unholy thoughts right now. I’d rather not knock you up by accident.”

Wanda chuckles breathily at that, but doesn’t protest further. Her body, well-fucked and trembling, is already past its limit. Even your gentlest touch now makes her flinch more than melt.

You slip the strap off with the same ease you'd show removing a coat, as though tonight - the spellbound lust, the raw confessions, the whole fucking-your-best-friend-into-the-mattress thing - was just another Thursday.

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, Maximoff,” you tease, catching her eyelids fluttering. Her tired smile is pure surrender. She tries to respond, but her body’s already slipping. “We made a mess, sweetheart,” you murmur, brushing her sweat-damp hair back from her face. “Don’t you want me to-”

Scarlet sparks answer you before she does, pulling you back down and holding you there, face resting on your chest, her magic clinging to your skin like a second blanket. That’s all the answer you get.

And honestly? It’s more than enough.

You settle in with her, bodies tangled, her breath steadying into your collarbone. She’s asleep within seconds.

It doesn’t take long for you to follow.

-

It isn’t the warmth of the sun that wakes Wanda  -  it’s the absence of yours.

The chill that slips into the sheets in your place is subtle but unmistakable. Still tangled in sleep, her hand stretches across the linen instinctively, searching for your body. When she finds only the faint impression of your form on the mattress, her brows knit together in a drowsy frown.

Footsteps shuffle across the wooden floor. The sound is light, familiar. The rustle of fabric follows  -  and something in Wanda's sleepy brain registers it as you.

"It's too damn early, Y/N," she rasps, voice rough with sleep, eyes only half-open. But she doesn’t flinch from the light bleeding through the window  -  because even as her voice breaks the silence, she sees you standing there, reaching up to draw the heavy curtains closed.

"I know, sweetie. That's exactly why I got up," you reply gently, not looking over your shoulder, too focused on shielding the room. "We forgot to close the curtains last night."

It takes a second  -  two, maybe  -  before her still-sleep-fogged mind catches up to the words. Vampire best friend. Sunlight. Her eyes snap fully open.

“Sorry,” she mutters, suddenly wide awake, guilt flooding her features as she tries to sit up.

But you're already crossing the now-dim room, waving off her concern with a shake of your head. “It’s alright. Didn’t get me,” you reassure her with a soft smile, and she breathes out, easing back into the pillows just as you crawl up onto the bed  -  and settle on her waist.

It’s a position that feels far too natural for something so new. And Wanda feels her cheeks bloom red at the thought  -  at how much she wants you to stay exactly like that.

"I know I promised you a day of studying," you murmur, eyes drinking her in like you haven’t seen her in years, “but I was thinking… maybe I could take you on a date instead? What do you say?”

Her answer doesn’t come in words  -  it comes in the small sound she makes when your lips press against hers, hungry and warm and deeply familiar. It steals her breath. She only manages a weak, dazed nod as you pull back with a teasing laugh.

You lean closer to press another kiss to her cheek, but your gaze lingers, catching sight of the scattered constellation of hickeys and bite marks blooming across her collarbone. It makes you pause, and your voice drops as you murmur, “I’ll be gentler next time. I promise.”

Wanda immediately frowns. “Don’t you dare,” she counters, and you snort at the conviction in her sleepy voice.

"Very kinky of you." You grin, and she rolls her eyes, sticking her tongue out at you like a defiant schoolgirl  -  except her fingers are already curling around your hips, pulling you down against her again.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” she says, gaze sharp despite the blush on her cheeks. “I know how much you like leaving your mark, Miss Vampire. The thought of showing me off must drive you crazy.”

You raise an eyebrow at her smugness, and the glint in your eye is all the warning she gets before you strike  -  fast, fluid, effortlessly dominant.

You pin her wrists above her head, your palms encasing her wrists like cuffs of silk and fire. She gasps, startled, and then gasps again as your hips grind into hers with calculated force.

“Oh?” you purr, low and dangerous, “You’ve been reading my mind, you naughty witch?”

She flushes, caught between embarrassment and arousal, unable  -  or unwilling  -  to deny it. Her thighs shift beneath yours, trying to find friction, but you don’t let her.

You adjust your position, sliding your thigh between hers. The slow, deliberate pressure makes Wanda moan  -  long and breathless  -  as her hips press down against you.

“Just practicing what you taught me,” she whispers, voice trembling, eyes wide with want.

“Let me teach you more, then,” you say, tone dipped in velvet, watching as she tries again to grind against you  -  only for you to shift back just enough to make her whimper.

“This,” you say, voice thick and sinfully sweet, “is called edging.”

Wanda's breath hitches. She opens her mouth to ask  -  what it is, why you’re doing it, maybe even to protest  -  but your lips are already back on hers, and your next words are spoken against her mouth like a spell:

“Questions are only allowed at the end of class.”

[jokeconic]

Across the Street (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: You're in need and it seems your neighbor, Wanda, might just be home... not knowing she's been wanting plenty from you too.

Words: 3589

Warnings: pervy neighbor!Wanda, flashing, kitchen sex, allusions to sucking a strap-on (it's mentioned, not done), voyeurism, language, SMUT, bottom!wanda (receiving), top!reader

A/N: It's an AU so like, don't look too much into it.

-X-

The window of Wanda’s bedroom was cracked open just enough to let in the sticky July breeze, the humidity clinging to every gust as it washed over Wanda’s skin. She sat barefoot on the windowsill, legs folded under her, barely hidden by the robe that looked older than her. She was watching you again—trying to pretend she wasn’t—but these days?

She always was.

And it wasn’t innocent. It hadn’t been for months. Even if she tried to convince herself that the brand new binoculars she’d bought three months had been for bird watching. That she hadn’t gotten them specifically so she could gaze into your bedroom when the night was late and the curtains were cracked just enough to see your hand buried between your thighs, head tossed back on the pillow. Wasn’t so she could read your lips as you fucked yourself on that nicely made bed of yours…

Of course not.

You were on your small balcony again, watering the struggling basil plant she’d gifted you when you first moved in across from her. You were wearing nothing but a sports bra and those damn basketball shorts that always rode up in a way that should’ve been illegal for the things it did to her sanity. When you turned, fabric swaying just right, Wanda’s breath hitched. It was barely audible, honestly, but in the dead silence of her room, it might as well have been a thunderclap. Her fingers curled tighter around the chipped ceramic mug that housed tea that had long gone cold.

She had meant to drink it but then she noticed you and well… priorities.

You glanced up once, not at her window but just in the general direction of her house, like you’d felt her gaze even if you couldn’t prove it. She knew you couldn’t see her—she made sure of it—but she still froze, eyes drifting along your features like you were the prettiest painting she’d ever been allowed to witness in person.

She leaned her head against the glass, heart pounding with something akin to shame and desire in equal parts. She hadn’t meant for this to happen—and she wanted to stop, she really did—but she’d never been great at giving up vices. Because every time she considered it — considered throwing out the binoculars, hell maybe even moving out of the neighborhood entirely — she imagined you. Your hands in her hair, her name on your mouth, not as a courtesy but as a moan, and suddenly she’d find herself staring down at your house all over again.

-X-

A few hours later, there was a steady knock at her door. She wasn’t expecting it, startling like she’d been caught. Like you’d heard her thoughts, like you knew the way she fantasized about your nails in her back and your mouth on her cu—

“Hey, Wanda? You home?” you asked, quiet but hopeful, through the door.

Hesitating, Wanda considered not answering before opening it. Curious but wary.

“Uh, hey, weird question… do you maybe have cornstarch? I’ve been trying to thicken a sauce for like, twenty solid minutes and I’m out of starch and I really don’t want to have to go to the store if I don’t have to?” you grinned at her sheepishly, lip snagged between your bottom lip.

Your neighbor was gorgeous, always had been, and you were desperately trying not to stare at the way her old but silky robe clung to her body. It was evident she wasn’t wearing a damn thing beneath it, her nipples straining against the fabric but you were a respectful woman. You wouldn’t gawk…

Hopefully.

Blinking at you slowly, Wanda tilted her head as your words finally cut through the haze her daydreams often left behind. Her eyes wandered along your torso, the way you’d tossed on a tank top—tragically—before walking across the street to her abode.

She cleared her throat, eyes lingering at your mouth. “Mm,” she hummed, “I might. I haven’t cooked much lately.”

Stepping back from the door, she let it swing wider but not fully. Just enough for you to slip in, your body forced to brush against hers if you came through. “You can check the pantry. I think it’s behind the vodka,” she added dryly with a faint smirk. “You’ll have to check.”

You slipped inside with a grateful grin, trying desperately to ignore the way your arm brushed a straining nipple as you passed. “Oh thank God, you’re a lifesaver. Because if I had to go ask Ms. Harkness for something again, I’m pretty sure she’d have spent the next two hours discussing preparedness with me… again. Asked that woman for an egg one goddamn time and it turned into a dissertation.”

Wanda let out a soft laugh.

“She gave me a pamphlet once when I asked her how to care for a fern,” she murmured as she followed you, the door easing shut behind her with a muted click. “Typed. Double-sided. Glossy paper. The works.”

The inside of her home smelled faintly like sandalwood and old books, the air a little cooler than yours thanks to a vintage ceiling fan that clicked softly overhead. The kitchen was neat, but lived-in. There were mugs in the sink and a book splayed open on the counter—Russian, from the looks of it.

Walking over to her pantry, you bent down as you perused the shelves looking for something—anything—to save this fucking sauce of yours. She was leaning against the doorframe, robe gapping slightly as it exposed the barest hint of her bareness beneath.

“I always thought you liked her,” Wanda said after a moment, voice quieter now. “You smile at her the way most people reserve for friends. Or... for women they might sleep with.”

“Who, Agatha? No, I mean, we’re friendly enough but I’m not trying to sleep with her,” you replied absently, fingers combing through her shelves until your fingers made contact with something that might work.

"I see," she murmured.

Her gaze roamed lazily down your back, along the slope of your shoulders. The way your muscles shifted under that tank top like they had no idea they were being watched. Or maybe you did know and were just teasing her. She couldn’t be sure.

“Strange,” she added after a beat. “I could’ve sworn you had a type.”

You found the corn starch. Or something like it—unlabeled, half-used, tucked beside a vodka bottle and a box of stale granola bars. She shifted closer as you began to rise, her hand trailing slowly along the counter’s edge, her nails faint against the wood.

"Would you have slept with me if I were more like her?" she asked suddenly, voice low and unsteady—not sad, but there was something in her tone that made your chest ache. "Polished. Precise. Prepared."

You froze, breath catching in your chest before you turned to face her fully. “I… um… hold on, sleeping with you was an option?” you squeaked, eyes wide as you stared at the bare skin slowly coming into view beneath her blood red robe. Every step left it open a little more, pale flesh flushing under your gaze.

Wanda’s lips curled into a lazy, wickedly pleased little smirk. The kind that made your skin prickle in places that weren’t polite to mention. Lashes lowering, her eyes darkened as she stepped closer, her fingers ghosting along the center of her robe. “It’s always been an option,” she purred, “You just never knocked.”

She stopped barely a foot from you, her gaze dragging over your face, eyes lingering on the way your lip caught between your teeth.

“And I’ve been so patient…”

Then, with no further warning, Wanda loosened the belt at her waist. The robe slid open, falling back over her shoulders and pooling at her feet as she opened herself fully to your hungry eyes in the warm kitchen light.

Her voice was calm. Almost amused. "Still need that cornstarch, or...?"

“Holy fuck,” you breathed, staring at her like she was heaven and hell wrapped into one delightful package.

Wanda didn’t flinch. She stood there, shameless and still, like a painting that dared you to look away. Her bare skin caught the light, curves cast in soft amber, her nipples drawn tight from the air or the moment—maybe both. Probably both, honestly. Her hair spilled over one shoulder, tousled and wild, framing her chest like something sacred and obscene all at once.

Her eyes never left yours.

"Mm," she hummed, head tilting. "That’s not a no, detka.”

She took a step closer. She was warm where she pressed against you—warm and magnetic in that way that made your knees want to forget their purpose.

"You’ve been teasing me for months," Wanda whispered, voice dropping into something sultry and low. “All those little outfits. Bending over your balcony. Laughing like you didn’t feel me watching.”

Her hand lifted, fingertips ghosting over your wrist.

“Are you really surprised that I wanted to taste what you’ve been offering?” she whispered, mouth mere inches from yours.

“…I thought I’d caught you one time, but I wasn’t sure,” you admitted breathlessly, setting the box aside like it was contraband as your hand lifted to ghost along her collarbones. “Thought I saw your fingers buried in your panties… staring into my window…”

Her eyes fluttered shut for just a moment as your fingers brushed over her collarbones, and when they opened again, they were blazing with hunger. “You did,” she whispered. “I wanted to see how far I could push it. How close I could get before you noticed. Before you’d come for me.”

Her hand reached up, fingers threading gently—possessively—into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back so she could look at you properly. Her other hand ghosted down your side, not quite touching, just hovering over the curve of your waist, warmth soaking into the cut of your hipbone.

“I thought about you, just like that,” she breathed, mouth brushing so close to yours it was barely space. “Wondering if your fingers would feel better than mine.”

Her eyes narrowed just slightly, hungry and unafraid.

“Want to find out?”

A guttural sound escaped your throat as you bent down and gripped her thighs, lifting her onto the kitchen island before settling between her naked thighs. A gasp hitched in Wanda’s throat, sharp and involuntary, as her bare skin met the cool marble of the island. Her thighs parted around you without hesitation, wrapping loosely around your waist as if her body had been waiting for this exact moment.

She looked wrecked already. Flushed cheeks, chest rising in fast, shallow breaths, lips parted in something between a moan and a plea. One hand braced behind her, the other sliding up your chest, fingers curling in the fabric of your shirt like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to pull you in or tear it off.

“Fuck, detka…” Her voice cracked, thick with disbelief and arousal all at once. Her nails dragged gently over your collarbone, and her knees pressed firmer to your sides, holding you there, grounding herself against you like she needed the contact to breathe.

“I used to imagine this,” she whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear, her voice shaking with every word. “You, between my legs… fucking me like this…”

You gripped her chin, bringing her face to yours as your mouth met hers in a brutal, needy kiss while your hand glided along a breast before palming it gently, feeling the way her nipple stiffened even more beneath your palm.

Wanda moaned into your mouth—raw and desperate, the sound vibrating against your lips and along your tongue. Her hand shot to your neck, fingers digging in like she was anchoring herself to you, grounding herself in the feel of your mouth devouring hers. She kissed back hard, lips pliant but unyielding, tongue sliding over yours with a practiced hunger that betrayed just how long she’d fantasized about this. She was burning beneath your touch, breath catching every time your fingers grazed the soft swell of her.

Her thighs tightened around your waist, dragging you closer, grinding her heat against your stomach shamelessly now as your tank top rode up, slick and wanting and soaked through with months of pent-up obsession.

“Fuck, Wanda, I can feel you dripping on my stomach,” you rasped in her ear, mouth trailing hot, desperate kisses down her throat.

Wanda whimpered, head falling back as your lips scorched a trail down her neck, each kiss igniting fresh tremors that rolled down her spine. Her nails dug into your shoulders, clinging like she might lose gravity entirely if she let go.

“God, detka—” she choked out, voice cracked and shaking, “—you make me so fucking wet just by looking at me. I—”

Her words dissolved into a moan as your mouth found that perfect spot just beneath her jaw, and her hips jerked against you instinctively, grinding into the plane of your stomach like her body couldn’t help it. You could feel her, slick and hot and desperate where she was spread open for you, all modesty gone, nothing left but raw need.

Her legs tightened again, trembling, breath hitching with every pass of your tongue against her neck.

“I’ve touched myself to the thought of this,” she confessed, voice trembling with the weight of it, the confession pouring out like something sacred and sinful. “So many fucking times—right there, at the window, watching you move, dreaming about what your mouth would feel like—fuck, please—”

She gasped again as your hand slid lower, lower, every nerve in her body arching into your touch like it was the only thing keeping her alive.

Your hand dropped to her cunt, fingers spreading her lips open as you pulled back just enough to study the slick, glistening sheen between her thighs.

Wanda’s entire body jolted at your touch—hips twitching helplessly as you exposed the flushed, dripping heat between her thighs. The cool air hit her folds and she whimpered, unabashed, cheeks flushing darker even as her legs fell wider, offering herself up completely.

“Such a messy girl,” you cooed mockingly, tongue dragging along your lip at the angry red of her clit.

Her breath stuttered, lips parted around a broken sound that was somewhere between a moan and a plea.

“Oh, fuck—” she gasped, voice hoarse, “I can’t— I’m gonna come if you keep talking like that,” she admitted, voice pitched high and desperate now. “You don’t even have to touch me and I’d come—”

“Look how swollen it is,” you murmured, dragging your thumb over her clit teasingly. “So swollen I bet it’s throbbing, isn’t it? Begging for a mouth around it…”

Wanda let out a strangled, broken moan, her head thrown back and eyes fluttering shut like she couldn’t bear the weight of your words and your touch at the same time. Her hips bucked involuntarily, grinding up into your hand the moment your thumb grazed her clit, that soft, deliberate tease enough to send sparks shooting through her entire body.

“Yes,” she gasped, voice ragged and soaked in need. “It’s—fuck, it’s pounding.”

Her voice dropped lower, guttural and soaked with something so filthy it made your own center ache.

“I’ve dreamed about it. Grinding down on your tongue until I come all over your face—crying for it—so fucking desperate while you hold me there and make me take it.”

She was panting now, clit twitching under your thumb, the swollen nub aching for pressure, for more—slick gushing with every shallow thrust of her hips, her thighs trembling from how close she already was.

“Fuck, please touch me,” she begged.

You smirked, crouching down just enough until your mouth was level with her. “Tell me what else you’ve dreamed about,” you commanded, leaning in and licking a stripe through her heat.

Wanda shuddered, her entire body jolting as her thighs clamped around your shoulders. Her fingers threaded into your hair, tightening, anchoring herself to the sight of you between her legs, devouring her like you owned her.

“Fuck,” she gasped, voice cracking. “I’m gonna make such a fucking mess—soak your face—God, detka, don’t stop—”

Your tongue flicked her clit and she nearly screamed, hips jerking forward, back arching.

“I’ve dreamed—fuck—about your mouth there,” she choked out. “About waking up with your fingers already inside me, slow and deep, while you kiss the back of my neck and tell me how much you missed this pussy.”

You licked again, firmer and filthier—and she damn near sobbed.

“I’ve dreamed about you pulling my hair while I’m on my knees… about you calling me your slut while you fuck my throat raw w-with that strap of y-yours—oh fuck, your tongue—”

She was writhing now, breathless, on the verge of breaking, cunt pulsing around nothing and clit throbbing against every flick and suck of your mouth.

“You want my strap buried in that pretty mouth of yours?” you rasped before wrapping your lips around her clit, sucking hungrily—teasingly—before pulling back again. “I bet you’ve seen me wearing it around my house, haven’t you? That red dildo on my hips… bet your mouth would look so pretty stretched around it. Bet you’d love choking on it while I call you my filthy little thing…” before your tongue was buried deep inside her.

Wanda cried out, the sound raw and filthy, echoing off the kitchen walls like a confession torn from her throat. Her thighs clamped around your head with almost bruising desperation, her nails digging into the island’s edge behind her as her whole body convulsed with the force of your tongue plunging into her, wet and deep and so goddamn relentless.

She was drenched, every clench of her cunt coating your tongue, your chin, every breath soaked in the scent and taste of her.

“Fuck, fuck, yes,” she babbled, voice high and trembling, head thrown back as her hair stuck to her damp skin. “I’ve seen it—seen you with that strap—saw you through the fucking window with it once and came on my fingers just imagining you down my throat—”

Her body jerked violently as you sucked again, lips closing around her clit just long enough to send her spiraling. Her voice shattered into broken moans, hips grinding against your face now with pure instinct, slick gushing over your tongue.

She was shaking, hands in your hair, pulling, holding, like she wanted to fuse you to her body, like she needed your mouth locked between her thighs until she came so hard she forgot her own name.

Wanda screamed, a sharp, feral sound torn from somewhere deep in her chest as your fingers slammed inside her, three at once, stretching her open with no warning and no mercy. Her cunt clenched around them instantly, greedily, like her body had been starving for this and you’d finally, finally given it what it needed.

“FUCK—detka—!”

She was thrashing now, hips rocking helplessly against your mouth, head thrown back as sweat slicked her flushed skin. Her pussy pulsed around your fingers with every hard thrust, your knuckles slamming against her with each pump.

Your mouth—God, your mouth—was locked onto her clit, lips sucking and tongue flicking in rhythm with every brutal stroke of your fingers. The combination was lethal.

Wanda was gone.

A mess of curses in a language you didn’t speak but desperately wanted to learn and sobs that sounded like prayers, her voice broke as she writhed under you, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it.

“You’re gonna make me fucking cum—!” she wailed, thighs trembling, every muscle tensing under you like a bow drawn too tight.

“I—” her voice shattered again, high and desperate, “I’m gonna cum so fucking hard—don’t stop, please, don’t stop—”

Her body locked around you, a full-body quake of release tearing through her as she screamed, clit throbbing wildly under your tongue, cunt clenching around your fingers as waves of ecstasy crashed over her again and again. She gushed around you—loud and messy and so fucking pretty you wanted to cry as she soaked your hand, your mouth, the edge of the counter, everything.

She collapsed back with a broken moan, chest heaving, hair plastered to her flushed face.

“…I didn’t really need cornstarch,” you finally admitted with a sheepish grin. “I just wanted a reason to talk to you.”

Wanda let out a hoarse, breathless laugh, her chest still rising in deep, uneven pulls as she looked down at you, her body trembling in the aftermath. She was stunning like this, her thighs splayed wide and glistening, cunt still twitching around your fingers buried deep inside her.

“God, detka,” she rasped, lips curved into a half-smile that was equal parts awe and disbelief. “You could’ve just said hi like a normal fucking person.”

But her voice was thick with affection, hand sliding to your cheek, thumb brushing your jawline, her body still melting from the inside out.

“Says the woman who’s been spying on me,” you muttered with a smirk.

She dragged her fingers slowly through your hair, then gripped it lightly, pulling your face up toward hers with quiet insistence. “Next time,” she murmured against your lips, voice low and spent, “just bring your strap.”

[jokeconic]

Y/N: Alright, babe. I'm gonna go to bed.

Wanda: Already?

Y/N: Yeah, I'm really tired.

Wanda: Okay, but why are you wearing clothes?

Y/N: What else should I wear?

Wanda: Nothing..

Y/N: But then I will be cold.

Wanda: I will heat you up with my body.

Y/N: Oh.. okay.

[jokeconic]

First Time Is A Mistake

—You've never what?

Pairing. Escort!Wanda Maximoff x Milf!Female Reader

Tags & Warnings. None so far, Wanda is 29 and reader is 52 and married, cheating, eventual smut, power imbalance, dom/sub dynamic (dom!Wanda & sub!reader)

A/N. Reposting, I know because we are so back, this series of mine haunts me everyday so here I am bringing it back (I don't know how tags works anymore)

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

"You've never what?"

"Rio, behave." Agatha called down her girlfriend as they both listened to you. "Y/N, that's…completely understandable but, you don't deserve that."

"You've been married to Tony for how many years now? 30?" Rio couldn't help but ask but Agatha only slapped her thigh.

"Yes, 30." Your answer came short, feeling embarrassed at what you just had shared with your two best friends.

"And he never made you orgasm?" Agatha gently asked, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable.

"Well, I never…I feel like I never felt it whenever we have sex." You bit your inner lip, sighing before sipping your cup of tea. The two only listened to your rant. For the whole life you have known them, this was the first time you had shared something about your sex life.

"God, you've ripped your pussy open for your three children and no org—" Rio was cut off with a pinch on her thigh now. "Okay, I got an idea." Rio shifted on her seat, from leaning on her girlfriend’s front she now leaned towards the table. Not wanting another slap or pinch from her girlfriend unless it's in bed. "We know someone, from the service…"

"Service?" You couldn't help but ask.

"Yes, service business but with women you know. And we can get you hooked." Agatha continues.

"With w-women?" You asked again, you're not homophobic, you told yourself but why did it feel like your question sounded like it?

To be honest, you could've just gotten yourself some male escort if you so wanted, but something in the idea draw you in. You've never got turned on by a woman but you didn't know why you got intrigued and excited but, still, the fear overpowers those feelings.

"Yes." Rio confirms. The couple looked at each other, before two pairs of eyes stared at you. "Only if you don't mind breaking your vows."

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Now, here you are standing inside the hotel room you had booked. Nervously fidgeting with your wedding ring as you paced back and forth like a caged animal.

"What am I doing?!" You whispered to yourself, realizing what you put yourself into. You're old, so nervousness immediately sets in you. You took your coat, ready to ditch and ghost the service you had booked when a knock made you jump, making your nervousness be put at a max level. You breathe in and out, maybe there's no way you're getting out of this situation.

You rushed towards the door. Opening it you saw a young girl, taller than you, wearing a suit that hugged her body so well and a pair of pointy heels.

"I...what can I do for you?" Your eyes immediately watered at your nervous state seeing the young lady.

"Well, what can I do for you?" She asked suggestively, "Mrs. Stark, I believe you have an appointment?" You sinked, feeling intimidated by her when in fact, you are way older.

"You must be mistaken." You breathed out and rushed to close the door but the woman immediately put her foot to prevent it from totally closing.

"Mrs. Stark, 5 o'clock?" Her voice was sultry and husky as she asked and it made you feel more intimidated. Like she's going to eat you alive.

"W-well, yes. I do have an appointment but, but...I believe I asked for...you see I think there's been a mix up. I asked for someone my age." You stuttered out in a whisper, not wanting to disappoint, offend or hurt her feelings and at the same time feeling embarrassed. But the lady can only bite her lip, a smirk crippling on the side of her mouth as she listened to you, noting how cute you were as she slowly dragged her gaze up to your head, checking you out.

Being conscious of the passersby in the hall of the hotel, you defeatedly asked her to come inside. And she made sure to lock the door behind her. You followed her every movement, she removed her suit and went straight to the bed, making herself comfortable as she put her bag down. You were standing, palming the invisible crease on your skirt—one of the habits you do when you're nervous. Meanwhile, the lady just watched you get lost, walking inside an invisible circle you made not so far in front of her.

"Are you from the service?"

The lady, taking the hint, smirked, "Oh, so this is your first time?" She fought not to suck her lip a little harshly. She loves taking first timers in the service. She watched you now fidget with your necklace. Eyes not settling. "You're nervous. Don't worry. We will go as slow and easy as you like." She spoke, her voice almost tickling your ears on how raspy it is.

"Look, Miss…"

"Maximoff. Wanda Maximoff."

"Miss Maximoff, I asked for someone my own age." You pressed.

"Age is a state of mind." She said as she leaned back to the soft mattress, her arms keeping her upper body upright.

"Of course you'd say that. What are you like…24?" You huffed, consciously putting your hairs at the back of your ears. You are not going to lie but you didn't know whether to admire her or to be jealous of her young beauty.

"29…" She corrects.

You rolled your eyes, "You're not what I asked for, I'm not paying you. So don't start your clock…or—"

"Well, then…" She uncrossed her legs, "I'm so sorry for misunderstanding Mrs. Stark. The woman who was supposed to be here had an emergency and she asked me to fill in." She says, gathering her suit and her bag on the bed. Then, she walked towards you, extending her hands as if she's asking for something.

"I'm not paying you." You say, stepping back, thinking she's asking for money. If this is a court hearing, what she's asking of you is an appearance fee.

She let out a few chuckles, finding you adorably cute. "I'm not asking you to. I'm just politely taking my leave. No hard feelings."

You chin up. Hesitantly reaching her hands, it linger for a couple of seconds before you pull back. Her hand slightly chasing yours.

"I hope next time you get what you're looking for, Mrs. Stark."

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

"Agatha, she looked like she could date Peter." You cringe bringing your first born in your attempt of infidelity.

"Okay, don't do that. You're sabotaging the plan. Why don't you try again?" Agatha asks.

"Yes, honey." Rio second the motion. Of course she would.

"I just…I don't know. It was embarrassing, I just wasted her time." Sucking your lip, remembering how sultry her voice is, how soft her hand is to yours.

"This time, you won't."

"Mom?" You immediately knew the voice, it was your son, Peter.

"Baby, hey. Where are you going?" You asked as he kissed your temple. And proceed to hug your friends, which were his godmothers.

"Work stuff, mom. I have a meeting with an investor in…" he glanced at his clock, "45 minutes. So, I gotta go."

"Okay baby, good luck."

"I love you, mom! Bye, aunt Agatha, aunt Rio!"

The two waved their hands on your son as he disappeared. After, they focused back on you. "How old is he again?" Rio asked.

"27," you sighed. "See?"

"Age is just a state of mind, Y/N."

"That's exactly what she said," you let out an exasperated sigh this time. "You lesbians think all the same." The two palmed their chest in unison, offended, making you laugh. "You all act the same as well."

After talking you through it, they were able to make you reconsider. You told the two that you will not do it again, that you were just confused—that it was a mistake. But now you promised them you will call if you feel like it. You gave yourself a couple of days, if you didn't think about it and totally forgot about the whole ordeal the next few days, then you won't. But if you did, the first number you will be dialing is the service' number.

And it's hard not to think about the encounter with the young woman.

"Okay, Mrs. Stark. Same person last time and same room?"

"Yes…"

[jokeconic]

fearsome fangs friday!!!!!!!!!! bite everyone

[jokeconic]

I LOVE PREDATORY WOMEN!!! I LOVE WOMEN WHO ARE PERVERTS!!! I LOVE WOMEN WITH DEPRAVED AND ‘GROSS’ KINKS!!!!

[jokeconic]

Mommy Wanda rewarding me for doing my chores just in time before she got home from work

"Mommy will now give you her special kisses baby, so open your legs, there we go just like that. Stay still yes? Such a good girl for me"

I need her

[jokeconic]

Sweet As Apple Pie x W.M

Southern!Wanda x City!Reader

When Wanda invites you to hers for a dinner, you thought it'd be one with the neighbours as well, but when you arrive at the door with some red wine and anxiety rushing through your blood, you figure out very quickly that this dinner is a private one.

Warnings: smut, fluff, cunnilingus (W), switch!wanda, switch!reader, teasing, banter, sexual tension, older woman x younger woman, country!wanda, sexual innuendos, dancing, domestic, (reader is so bad at dancing, but wanda's gentle as she teaches reader to dance with her), makeout session, masc presenting reader, stem presenting wanda (both masc and fem), fingering (R), aftercare.

Word Count: 4.9k

A/n: the third instalment in the series, and the final one. If any of you have any ideas for one-shots/headcanons/drabbles let me know in my inbox.

Some Young Lovin'

Tag List:

@tobiaslut

@alexawynters

@inluvwithfandom

You could feel the way your throat closed up as you neared Wanda's house, which was a picture perfect view of a farm house, traditional but with obvious modernisations as you walked up the steps to the front porch.

Raising your fist you make two firm knocks upon the wood as you adjust your standing.

Your eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion as you couldn't see any cars other than what you assumed to be Wanda's as you hummed in thought.

You hadn't driven as you were only a quick walk down the old dirt road out the back of your house.

As you looked around the front of her porch, a small smile spread on your lips as you noticed the beautiful apple orchard spreading over the wide expanse of the property, following behind the property as well.

Just as you had started hearing the soft sounds of sheep, you whipped around at the sound of Wanda's southern drawl,

"Look who it is, nice outfit, honey..."

You smiled brightly as you found her eyes, yours drifting over her body as you hummed at the softness of her whole look, before you shook your head as you stepped forth.

Your fingers clenching around the wine bottle as you offered it to her before rambling nervously,

"Uh, I wasn't sure what you liked, but I remembered that you had this wine the last time you had been at my parents, so I uh.. I just got you this as a gift to say thank you for inviting me over."

Wanda's lips spread into a grin, and you're blinded by how beautiful and adorable she is as a dimple forms in her left cheek as you watch in slow motion as she reaches for the wine bottle before speaking softly and with slight amusement,

"Oh, such manners, thank you darlin', but I am curious, how did you manage to get such an expensive wine when you're underage?"

You nervously scratched the side of your neck as you hummed before shrugging your shoulders in indifference, mischief shining in your eyes as you speak,

"Hm, don't know, now are you going to invite me in or not?"

Wanda raised an eyebrow but shook her head before stepping to the side to let me in.

My feet took me forward as I glanced around at the decor, it made me smile as I shrugged my coat off my shoulders as I hung it near the front door.

Stepping further forward, my eyebrows furrow as I frown, a picture near the front door of Wanda standing next to a young man, similar to that of her, but hanging over her shoulder with a bright grin as Wanda looks back at the camera in what seems to be slight annoyance.

It makes you grin as you brush your fingertips around the gold frame of the picture.

Your voice is soft as you question Wanda,

"Who's this in the photo?"

Your breath stalls in the back of your throat as you can feel Wanda lean over your shoulder, her breath warm as it wafts down the side of your neck as you shiver slightly at the close proximity to her,

"That... that's my brother, my twin brother, Pietro."

You furrow your brows as you turn your head to the side, your eyes looking at the side of Wanda's face as you blink a couple of times before Wanda continues with a heavy sigh,

"He- he died when we were 15, along with my parents who all died in a freak bombing accident, that's why I moved to America, to live with my father's parents.."

You frown as you speak up, your voice hesitant but ever so soft as you part your lips,

"But, don't you miss him?"

You watch as Wanda's head turns towards you, her eyes glancing over your face as she hums, her lips shining with something unsaid as you are about to say sorry when she speaks,

"I do, but I believe I have someone... more prevalent to look after.."

You blush as you find her eyes looking directly back at your own, your eyes glazing over as you suddenly are reminded of the kiss you two shared at your parents house party.

Wanda pulls away with a knowing grin as she offers you her hand, before speaking,

"Shall we?"

You're mesmerized by the way her eyes shine with bemusement as you grab her hand which is warm as you clasp it with your own, which feels like its pooling and drowning in sweat from nervousness at being alone with Wanda.

Wanda smiles as she walks ahead of you while you remain at a respectable distance from behind her.

Walking into an open doorway, your eyes focus on the beautiful sliding glass doors that lead into the dining room and kitchen, however they're already slid to the side to allow for both Wanda and myself to walk in.

My eyes look back at Wanda as she smiles gently at me, the gentleness of it all causing my heart to beat wildly in my chest as she steps back from me, her hand moving away from mine as she begins to speak,

"What do you feel like for dinner?"

You shrug your shoulders in indifference as you nibble at your bottom lip as you mumble,

"I... don't know. Whatever you have ready and whatever you want."

Wanda hums as she nods her head before walking over towards the fridge before pulling out something undisclosed from inside.

You try getting a peak of what it is when Wanda clicks the roof of her mouth with her tongue as she shakes her head at you.

Before gently pushing you back towards the dining room table, and pulling a chair out for you to sit down as she speaks softly, that accent you've fallen in love with leaking through each and every word,

"Nuh uh, don't you dare, I'll do this. You sit down and simply look pretty for me."

Your lips part as you blink a couple of times, your eyes looking up at her wordlessly as you settle back into the seat at the end of the dining table as you watch Wanda move around her kitchen.

You lean your chin on your open hand as you rest your elbow on the arm rests of the chair as you hum in contentment.

You're snapped from your stupor as you jolt in your seat at how close Wanda has gotten to you. You gasp slightly as Wanda chuckles before placing a steaming hot bowl in front of you, alongside a fork and spoon if you need it.

She smiles, almost knowingly as you squirm and adjust yourself in your seat, as she sits down to the right of you.

Her voice leaks out with bemusement as she smirks at you before suddenly looking slightly vulnerable as she pulls her seat in,

"So, I'm not really good at cooking, but I thought I could serve you a dish from my home country, one of my favorites. It's called Sokovian Paprikash."

You glance down at your plate as you smile, before speaking up as you glance back up at her,

"It looks delicious, Wanda. Trust me, when I say I do believe that your cooking will be good enough."

You smile at her in comfort, before reaching forward to grip her hand within your own palm as you squeeze it before reaching for your fork and knife as you cut into the chicken before wrapping some pasta around your fork as you take a tentative bite of the dish.

The flavours burst on your tongue and the overwhelming amount of flavours are intense but the dish is delicious none the less as you hum in pleasure.

You continue to eat away, oblivious to the way Wanda glances at you every so often as you remain in your own world.

Finishing the food with one last bite you grin as you look up before blushing as you realise that Wanda's already looking at you. Your lips part as your eyes flicker down to her parted lips, yours tingling in memory of what transpired last time.

Glancing back up at Wanda, your eyebrows furrow as your tongue anxiously licks your lips before whispering,

"Uh, Wanda...?"

Your heart stutters within your chest as you feel Wanda's fingertips brush against your cheek, her thumb dragging your bottom lip down as her eyes follow the movement of her thumb.

"Yeah..?"

You raise an eyebrow at her weird behaviour before your nose twitches at the smell of something cooking, you must've been too engrossed in eating to notice.

Your voice is hesitant as you speak up,

"Something smells like it's finished cooking.."

That seems to snap her out of her trance as she blushes, her hand snapping away from your cheek as if you had burned her as she stands abruptly, her voice soft and embarrassed as she coughs to clear her throat,

"Uh, oh yeah, that. I baked some apple pie for dessert, I've always been better at baking than cooking so I hope you are still hungry."

You light up as you nod your head rapidly, your mouth salivating at the mere idea of apple pie as you straighten up as you watch her walk into the kitchen before disappearing from your sight for a moment before standing with oven mitts on and a dish of apple pie in her hands.

You swallow roughly as the smell gives you flashbacks to how your mum would bake for you when she wasn't being such a deadweight.

Not now, Y/n. Can't think about that right now.

Wanda cuts you a slice as she gently places it down in front of you coupled with vanilla ice-cream as she sits down next to you again, her fork digging into her portion as you follow suit.

Wordless comfort spreading between the both of you as you bask in the domesticity of the moment.

You finish the dessert quickly as you gently place your cutlery in your bowl as you watch Wanda stand and move towards the kitchen where she places the dishes inside the dishwasher with the rest.

Swallowing roughly you awkwardly rub your palms up and down your thighs as you drum your fingertips against the clothe covered skin.

Your breath catches in your throat however as your head turns to the side to find her staring up at you, as she kneels at your side, her hands warm and a little rough as she cups both of your own.

"Y/n... I- we need to talk. I'm not one to express feelings well, but I- I like you. Like really like you, and I'm interested in pursuing a romance with you, courting you if you will. Now if you-"

You can't help it as you snort as you place a hand over your mouth to try and stifle your laugh as Wanda looks up at you confused as she speaks,

"And... you're laughing... why are you laughing?"

You shake your head as you cup her hands within your own as you lean down to peck her parted lips as you tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as you rub your thumb over her cheekbone as you speak softly,

"It's nothing, just you- you... you sound like you were born in the 1800s."

Wanda blushes as her lips part before she gives you a bashful grin as you lean down to kiss her again before pulling back an inch as you speak in the space shared between you,

"I would love to date you, Wanda."

Wanda's lips spread into a grin as she excitedly glances up at you before she stands and wraps her arms around your waist to spin you around, you squeal as your nails dig into her biceps as you giggle alongside her.

She places you back down onto your feet as she cups your face before leaning down to kiss you, her hand combing through your hair as you respond eagerly.

You're left winded as she smirks at you, her lips pulling away from yours as you whimper, she shushes you gently as she speaks,

"Ah, ah, ah, not yet. I haven't yet been able to dance with you m'lady."

You raise an eyebrow at her, suspicious at her words, but she simply grins back at you as you realise with sickening truth that she's being serious.

You open your mouth as you try to argue, your voice high-pitched as you do.

"Wanda, I- I can't dance, really-"

She shakes her head as she opens her phone, before the beginning chords to a soft melody drifts through the speaker near the kitchen counter.

Her face is soft and gentle as she cups your hands before placing one on her shoulder and gripping the other one as she pulls you in close as she speaks,

"Don't worry, just follow my lead."

You stumble slightly as you try and follow her lead, sloppily, you thought she'd make fun of you but she simply alters your position slightly before trying again with you.

Not long after the first song has finished, and the second song begins you finally manage to succeed in getting the hang of it, a grin spreading over your lips as you do.

You glance up at Wanda who's already looking at you, a soft pink blush spreading over your cheekbones as you smile bashfully up at her as she speaks gently,

"See, I told you you'd get the hang of it quickly."

You hum as you follow her lead, the song wafting through the silence as you finally come to a halt, Wanda simply swaying the both of you as you rest your head on her chest as your eyes flutter closed.

Your chest feels warm as you can't wipe the grin from your lips as you feel Wanda stop.

You furrow your brows as you glance up at her green irises, which have noticeably darkened as she speaks,

"Okay enough dancing, I need you..."

She slams her lips down on yours, and you're rendered speechless for a moment before you cup her face and tilt your head slightly to the side as you make out with her.

You stumble backwards as your heart beats rapidly as you can feel her fingertips brush against your exposed collarbone as she hums against your wettened lips.

She pulls back and you're left panting heavily as you desperately clench your fingers around her collar, not daring to let go as you whimper, she chuckles before whispering against your parted lips,

"I need to ask consent, love. May I unbutton your shirt?"

You huff playfully before rolling your eyes as you sigh heavily before nodding your head and whispering heavily a 'yes'.

Wanda doesn't waste much more time as she quickly and impatiently unbuttons your shirt as she pulls it down and off of your shoulders as it drops forgotten to the floor as you blush, slight embarrassed.

Your eyes watch as Wanda's looks you up from head to toe as you swallow roughly, before her darkened eyes look back at your own eyes.

It makes a lump grow in the back of your throat as your lips part slightly while Wanda speaks up, her tone of voice breaching no argument as she does so,

"Jump. I'll catch you."

You furrow your brows but follow her command nonetheless, as you let out a yelp as Wanda surprisingly catches you in her arms, her fingers digging into the back of your thighs as she wraps your legs around her waist.

You raise an eyebrow at her as you tilt your head to the side as you dig your nails into the back of her neck for dear life as you speak,

"You can carry me? Are you sure I'm not too heavy?"

Wanda chuckles, the feeling reverberating through her chest as she shakes her head at you before speaking up,

"Darlin', I'm quite fine, I've had to wrestle quite a lot of wild hogs in my lifetime, simply carrying you is no problem for me."

You blush as you hum, before loosening your grip around her neck slightly as you play with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck before leaning forward to leave a gentle but firm kiss against her already parted lips.

She hums against your lips as she begins to walk, one of her hands roughly gripping the nearby railing so as to balance herself as she walks up the stairs, her lips not moving once from your own as she moans against them.

Her hand wraps around the doorknob digging into your back as she kicks the door open, her legs stumbling over pieces of clothing as she falls onto the king sized bed with you beneath her.

You moan against her lips, as you pull at the blonde strands of hair as you tilt your head to the side as you kiss her deeper, before feeling her nails drag up the inside of one of your thighs as you shiver at the feeling of her nails on you.

Her fingers make quick work of your pant buttons and zipper, her fingers then unclasping your belt as she drags her lips hotly over your neck and down to your pulse point.

You let out a staggered breath as you feel her lips enclose around your pulse point, her mouth suctioning as she brings the blood beneath closer to the skin.

Your nails dig into her shoulders as she finally rips your pants off of your lower half, her breathing heavy as she glances at you, as she pulls away from your sweaty neck, her lips kissing the bruise growing on your pulse point as she speaks,

"Did you want my fingers?"

Your lips part at the sound of how husky her voice is, her eyes darkened and desire leaking off of her in waves as she waits patiently.

You nod your head rapidly before whispering breathlessly,

"Yes, p-please..."

Wanda's deep chuckle makes your thighs twitch slightly as her finger moves to brush against your clit ever so subtly.

It makes you jolt at the feeling, as if your whole body is one live wire.

Wanda hums as she tilts her head slightly to the side while dragging her eyes from the top to bottom of you.

It makes you shiver as your lips part as her other hand moves to unbutton your shirt, her voice low as she speaks,

"You know, I've felt an attraction towards you since that first night we kissed. God, did I want more, but I knew it would be safer to simply just allow you to come to me on your own accord. I didn't want to push, I'm now so glad I made that call."

Your shirt comes apart as her fingers dig into the skin that consists of your breasts as her fingers rub your outer lips before two fingers make their way inside of you.

You jolt as your lips part, but Wanda's right there as she shushes you gently, her fingers combing through your hair.

"Shh, baby, it's okay. You'll adjust."

It takes a while but soon it begins to feel good, as your fingers spread over her shoulder blades as you dig them into her skin, your eyes growing heavy but remaining eye contact as your lips part.

Wanda smirks dangerously, a smirk that makes even more wetness rush to your pussy as she leans down to kiss your pulse point.

Her lips are gentle against your earlobe as she whispers across your skin, causing shivers to break out across your soft skin,

"That's it, darlin', honey, be a good girl and get closer. You don't have to be scared. I'm here."

Your legs wrap around her waist as the back of your heels dig into her lower back as you tilt your head back, your teeth digging into your lips as you whimper, your hips thrusting forward as you pant heavily.

Wanda giggles and it makes your head swim as your lips part, moans softly exhaling from them as you tense up, your pussy clamping down onto her two fingers as you let go, elation and pleasure mounting as you moan out Wanda's name.

Wanda gently coaxes you down from your orgasm, as she kisses your face wherever she can reach.

You smile goofily at her as you lean forward to kiss her, she pulls back as she gives you a wink before pulling her fingers from your warmth.

She sucks them both into her mouth, which makes your eyes darken as she whispers hotly in the space between your faces,

"So damn good..."

Using your legs that are still wrapped around her waist, you flip her over and onto her back as you sit on her lap, your hands rubbing up and down her shirt before quickly unbuttoning her shirt as you rip it off.

You groan softly at the look of her red laced bra cupping her tits so beautifully.

You lick your lips as you glance up at her your voice, soft and hesitant as you speak,

"May I- uh... may I return the favour? I mean... I want to- to taste you."

Wanda smiles as she hums, her tongue poking out to lick her lips as she nods her head gently. You grin yourself as you lean down to kiss her firmly but gently before pulling away as you begin to unbutton her jeans.

You struggle slightly to pull them off, laughing slightly with Wanda before throwing them to the floor.

You're stunned for a second too long as you simply just admire Wanda's frame, your fingers brushing over her skin, your nails dragging gently over her creamy skin, causing goosebumps to break out over her skin as you glance up at her eyes.

She gives you a slightly confused look and you speak softly as you smile,

"You're beautiful."

Wanda's cheeks blush, and it's one if not the most adorable sights you've seen to date as you hook your fingers into either side of the waist band of her underwear as you drag the underwear and your nails down the backs of her thighs and legs.

She shivers in response as you lick your lips as you look down at the spot between her legs, your throat going dry as you smirk darkly, your fingers moving forward as you brush the knuckle of your thumb against her clit.

Wanda jolts, her tits jiggling with her movement as you pout mockingly down at her,

"Aww, sensitive, are we? You're so fucking wet, Wands..."

Wanda's eyebrows furrow as she tilts her head to the side, her voice confused and slightly intrigued as she speaks,

"Wands? Is that a nickname?"

You shift in slight embarrassment as you nod, and she hums as she tilts your chin up before speaking as her finger brushes over your bottom lip,

"I love it."

You smile bashfully before glancing back at her entrance, you groaning lowly as her pussy practically sucks your finger in as you brush it over her outer lips.

You pull your finger away before not even a second later you lean down and take her into your mouth.

You moan lowly, your eyes practically rolling into the back of your mouth at the salty and sweet taste of her on your tongue, you quickly grow addicted to the taste of it as you grip her hips roughly.

Your nails dig into the dips of her love handles as you suck her clit, your tongue making its way inside of her pussy as you can feel her begin to grind against your face.

You pull away, but not by much as your bicep slams her abdomen back down against the bed, stopping her hips from thrusting.

Your voice is a grit as you narrow your eyes up at her,

"No. I didn't say you could grind against me, be a good girl."

Wanda seems surprised and shocked as she blinks down at you, your mouth closes around her clit again as you continue your pace, your fingers gripping her thighs as you throw each one over your shoulders.

Wanda's moans are like heaven to your ears as you glance up at her from between her thighs, your happiness growing as you realise that she's enjoying herself.

You double your efforts as you feel her deft fingers thread through your hair as she stabilizes herself with your hair.

You pull back slightly as you flick your tongue rapidly over her clit as you mumble through a mouth full of her arousal,

"I'll allow you to cum, this one time."

Wanda's chest heaves, and your eyes are mesmerized as you watch the sweat roll down her body, but especially between her cleavage as you force her thighs to clamp tighter around your head, you struggling to breathe as you move your mouth quickly.

Your jaw's beginning to cramp but you refuse to stop before you get to see her cum as you watch her eyebrows furrow.

And then the dam breaks as you watch her face screw up, hear her moan out your name, feel her heels dig into your shoulder blades, and taste her come undone on your tongue.

You don't move from between her legs until she's panting heavily and finished as you kiss your way up her body, before kissing her on her lips.

Your voice is soft as you speak,

"You did so well for me, Wanda, good girl."

Wanda blushes as she combs her fingers through your hair.

You sigh softly as you lean against her breasts, your eyes watching in wonder as you watch her come down from her orgasm.

You shift and sit up as you move to get off the bed, Wanda's eyebrows furrow as she reaches for you and you hum softly before explaining,

"I'm just going to get a washcloth to clean you up. Where's your bathroom."

Wanda's face flushes with realization as she simply points to a door to the left of the bed, you ho behind the door before grabbing a washcloth and rinsing it under the water, while emptying out the cup with her toothbrush in it.

You fill it with cold water from the tap before moving back into the bedroom.

Wanda's sat up in bed, waiting patiently as she glances over at the sound of your bare feet against the wooden floorboards of her bedroom.

You sit on the edge of the bed as you hand her the cup of water.

She drinks majority of it as you take it from her when she hands it to you, your fingers placing it on the bedside table as she stares at you and then at the wet washcloth in your hand.

You move to sit between her sticky and hot thighs as you glance at her bashfully before speaking softly,

"Now, just let me know if it hurts or anything, okay?"

You begin, with the utmost care and gentleness, wiping down her pussy before moving back into the bathroom.

When you come back out, Wanda's laying on her side, her hand patting the spare space next to her as she pulls back the blankets.

You shift on the spot before awkwardly moving forward and you slide in next to her, she pulls you against her as her hands pull the blankets up and over your shoulders as you sigh heavily before resting your cheek in the crook of her neck.

Wanda's fingers comb through your hair and you relax against her as your eyes begin to drop in exhaustion.

A couple of minutes go past as you bask in the comfort of Wanda, until she speaks up, her voice husky as she sounds like she's about to fall asleep herself,

"Y/n, I didn't ask you earlier... but- I-.. I would really like to have you as my girlfriend."

You smile softly before glancing up at her before kissing the underside of her chin as you whisper into the quiet night,

"Yes, Wanda, I would love to be your girlfriend."

And as you both quietly and peacefully drifted off to sleep, you knew that this is where you belonged at least for a couple more minutes.

[jokeconic]

Little Bunny Heart

Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: You don’t know why your dreams are getting fuzzier, or why your tummy aches when Mommy holds you close. But Wanda does. She knows just what her sweet little bunny needs—warm hands, soft words, and milk to quiet your busy brain. You don’t have to think anymore. Mommy will take care of everything.

CW: Mommy kink / Caregiver x little dynamic (non-age regression), Power imbalance (soft control, magical influence), Non-sexual lactation kink / nursing for comfort, Emotional dependency, Orgasm control / light D/s, Semi-hypnotic language and dream manipulation, Soft possessiveness / manipulation (consensual), Submissive adult reader

Men and Minors DNI

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

You weren’t sure when it started. That feeling. The one that bubbled up in your chest and made your thoughts get stuck like thick syrup in your brain every time you looked at her.

Maybe it was the lavender scent that clung to her clothes no matter how many battles she fought. Maybe it was the way her arms always felt just right—like they were made for holding you. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the soft lull in her voice when she called you “bunny” and pressed your head to her chest.

Whatever it was, it made the world feel hazy. Distant. Like the only thing that mattered was Wanda. Your Mommy.

And today had been a hard day. Not for her, obviously—Wanda had returned from work flushed with energy, cheeks kissed pink by the wind, brushing off alien guts from her sleeves like dust. But you? You’d woken up from the kind of nap that left your heart pounding and your face hot, dream fragments trailing behind you like spider silk. You’d tried to watch cartoons, tried to snack, tried to distract yourself from the lingering ache in your stomach and the guilt crawling just beneath your skin.

Because the dream had been about her. Again.

You didn’t remember most of it. Just warm hands. Red light curling like smoke. A voice calling you sweet girl, good girl, Mommy’s girl—until your body tensed in your sleep and you woke up already halfway to tears.

You didn’t want her to know.

But of course she did.

She always did.

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By the time she finds you, you’ve curled yourself into a tight little ball on the sofa. You don’t even hear her footsteps—you just feel her presence, like gravity. And then her arms are around you, warm and strong, lifting you into her lap like you weigh nothing at all.

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs, like it’s a lullaby only you get to hear. “Have an icky dream, did you?”

Your face burns. You don’t answer—just nod against her chest and try not to cry. You’re too old to cry over dreams. You’re too old to—

“Shhh,” she hushes, stroking your hair. Her fingers slip through the strands like silk, carding slowly, rhythmically. “Mommy’s here now. You’re safe. My sweet little bunny…”

Your bones practically melt under her voice. You want to say thank you, to apologise, to explain. But all that comes out is a shaky breath and a soft noise—something between a whimper and a sigh as you press closer.

She smells like laundry detergent and burnt ozone. Her red magic hums faintly beneath her skin. It always does when she’s holding you like this. When she wants something.

And even though you don’t understand what that something is, not really—you feel it.

You squirm in her lap, not because you want to leave, but because it’s too much. The heat, the comfort, the quiet sense of wrongness that you don’t have the words for. Her hand brushes your cheek—so gentle it makes your stomach flip.

“There she is,” Wanda whispers. “My soft little lamb. I missed you today, you know.”

“You did?” you croak, voice small and hoarse.

Wanda lets out a soft chuckle. “Of course I did. You think I save the world for fun, baby? No. I do it for you. So you can live in this cosy little house, with your soft blankets and silly cartoons and all the applesauce you could ever want. That’s why Mommy works so hard.”

You nod, ashamed again. You hadn’t even thanked her. You hadn’t done anything today. And here she was, acting like she was the lucky one.

She presses a kiss to the top of your head, lips lingering for just a second too long.

“Dreams getting strange again?” she asks softly, her voice like warm honey.

You tense.

Her arms tighten slightly—just enough to remind you that she’s there. That she’s not letting go.

“Baby…” Her fingers move to your chin, gently coaxing your face up to meet her eyes. “You can tell Mommy. You know that, right?”

You look at her—really look at her. Her eyes shimmer with concern. Her lips are soft and pink. She’s so pretty it makes your head hurt. You want to tell her, but the words curdle in your throat. How can you say it?

That the dreams are about her. That you wake up aching, confused. That sometimes you think her voice is still in your head, whispering things that don’t make sense but feel right.

You blink, and her expression shifts. Something darker settles behind her gaze—smug, maybe. Or knowing.

“Was I in them again?” she asks, and you freeze.

“I—no—”

“Oh, bunny,” she sighs, but there’s no real disappointment in it. Just amusement. “You’re such an adorable little thing. Don’t have a single clue, do you?”

You shake your head slowly.

Her hand slides down to cup your cheek. “Poor thing. Your little brain can’t handle all these grown-up feelings, can it? That’s okay. That’s what I’m here for.”

You should pull away. You know that. But all you do is nuzzle into her touch.

Wanda smiles.

And you never see the faint red shimmer that flickers behind her eyes.

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You lose track of how long you lie there. Safe in Wanda’s arms. Curled up like a kitten, pressed to the rise and fall of her chest, your breathing syncing to hers without you even realising. Her touch doesn’t stop—not for a second. Fingers in your hair, on your cheek, across your back. Always gentle. Always there. Like if she stopped, you might unravel.

You want to speak, but your mouth doesn’t work right. Every time you try to form a word, your tongue gets stuck. You feel… stupid, almost. But not in a bad way. Just fuzzy. Floaty. Like you’re drifting underwater in a dream where everything smells like lavender and feels like Wanda.

“Mmhm,” she hums, as if responding to a thought you didn’t say out loud. “That fuzzy little head of yours is running in circles again, isn’t it?”

You nod slowly, dizzy from the sound of her voice in your ear. It’s like she lives in your head. Always has. But lately it’s gotten worse. Or better. You’re not sure anymore.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whisper.

Wanda pulls back just enough to look at you. Her expression is so full of pity you could cry.

“Oh, sweetheart.” She presses a soft kiss to your temple. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just sensitive. You feel things deeper than most people. And that’s okay.”

“But the dreams—”

“Are just dreams,” she says, cutting you off with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Your little brain’s still growing, still trying to make sense of big things. Of feelings. That’s normal, bunny.”

You shift in her lap, and her hands slide to your hips—holding you steady, keeping you right where she wants you.

“Still,” she says, tone dipped in honey and something else, something darker, “if those dreams are making my baby uncomfortable, maybe we should do something about them.”

Your heart stutters.

“Like… like therapy?” you offer weakly.

Wanda laughs. Full and warm and rich with amusement. “Oh, no, no. Therapy’s for other people. Strangers. You don’t need some stranger poking around in that precious head of yours, do you?”

You shake your head. That sounds awful. You wouldn’t want anyone else inside your head. Not when Wanda’s already there. Already knows you better than you know yourself.

“No,” you murmur. “I want… I want you.”

You don’t even really mean to say it like that. But the way her eyes light up? The little inhale she takes? It makes your stomach twist in that now-familiar, shameful way.

“I know you do,” Wanda whispers, and her hand cups the back of your neck. “You always want Mommy. Even when you’re sleeping.”

Her words send a bolt of embarrassment through your spine. You squirm instinctively, trying to hide your face in her shirt, but she won’t let you. She tilts your chin up with one finger, forcing you to meet her gaze.

“You’ve been dreaming about me,” she says. Not a question. A fact. A gentle accusation.

You nod. Barely.

Wanda sighs again, all softness and control. “You poor thing. You don’t even understand what you’re feeling, do you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise, bunny. It’s not your fault. Your brain’s just trying to tell you something. And it’s too little to make sense of it all on its own.” Her fingers tap your temple, affectionate but firm. “That’s why I’m here. To help.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You don’t even know why.

“I feel weird,” you mumble. “Like… itchy inside.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Wanda purrs, already shifting you closer. “That’s called longing. You want me. And it feels scary because you don’t know what to do with it.”

You blink slowly, like your brain’s catching up one second at a time.

“I do want you,” you whisper, and it comes out like a confession. A sin.

Wanda smiles again. This one is softer. Sadder, maybe. “Of course you do. I’m your everything, aren’t I?”

You nod helplessly.

“Then there’s no need to feel guilty,” she says, leaning in to brush her lips over your cheek. “Your dreams are just your heart’s way of trying to be close to me. That’s sweet, bunny. So sweet.”

Her hand moves to your chest, right over your heart. Her palm is warm. Steady. Your breath hitches.

“You don’t need to be scared of your feelings,” Wanda says, like she’s reading straight from your subconscious. “They’re natural. And you’re such a good girl for telling me. For trusting me.”

You bite your lip.

“I feel bad that they’re about you.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Why would you feel bad about that?”

“Because… you’re my Mommy.”

She leans back just slightly, eyes narrowing—not with anger, but interest.

“And what does that mean to you?” she asks.

You don’t know how to answer that. Your head’s spinning again. You want to curl up and cry and crawl inside her shirt like a baby animal and never leave.

Wanda pulls you forward, your cheek resting over her heart.

“It means I’m yours,” she says. “And you’re mine. That’s all that matters.”

You nod against her chest, the ache in your belly easing a little at her words.

“You’re so lucky to have me,” she murmurs. “Most people don’t get this. They don’t get someone to love them like I love you.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Her voice hardens by a hair. Just enough to make your stomach clench again.

“Yes, Mommy,” you say quickly. “I do.”

She strokes your back again, slow and lulling. “Good girl. That’s what I want to hear.”

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You wake up trembling.

You're not even sure what startled you-the dream was warm, not scary. There was no running or screaming. Just Wanda. Her voice. Her touch.

The way she looked at you like you were hers-not just emotionally, but physically. Entirely. Like every inch of your skin belonged to her.

And now you're soaked between the legs, face hot, body aching with a need you don't know how to satisfy.

You whimper softly, trying to shift away, to hide, to think. But you can't. Because Wanda's already awake.

Already watching you.

Like she never slept at all.

"Oh, bunny," she murmurs, voice like velvet and syrup and everything. "You're squirming again."

You try to apologise, but all that comes out is a gasp as her hand moves-down.

"You thought you were hiding it, didn't you?" she coos. "Poor baby. You're always so embarrassed when your body tells the truth."

Her hand cups your cunt over your panties, slow and firm and inevitable. You bite your lip hard, trying not to cry out. It's too much. You're too sensitive. She always makes you too sensitive.

"You're soaked," she says, mock-scandalised. "From dreaming about Mommy. That's what this is, isn't it?"

You nod-shamefully, helplessly.

Wanda's smile could ruin you. "Of course it is. My needy little thing. You can't even sleep without me pressing into you. Holding you. Touching you. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Mommy," you whisper, voice trembling.

"There's my good girl."

She kisses your forehead, your nose, your lips-soft and teasing, like she's so proud of you for admitting the truth.

"You were trying to be good, weren't you? Trying not to wake me?"

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks from sheer overstimulation. "I'm sorry-"

"No, no. Don't apologise," she says, sliding her hand into your panties without warning. Her fingers stroke through your folds, slick and slow, like she has all the time in the world. "Mommy's so proud of you for feeling this much. It means your heart is open. Your body's honest. You're letting go."

Your hips jolt against her hand. You're not trying to grind down. You're not trying to be bad. But your body's desperate, and she's so good at this.

"Shh," she whispers. "Don't fight it. You want this."

You nod, gasping, breath catching in your throat as she circles your clit with a soft, wet stroke.

"Say it."

"I-I want this. I want you, Mommy."

"You want Mommy to touch you like this? Make you come in her bed?"

"Yes-yes, please-!"

"Such a sweet, well-mannered bunny," she coos.

"You're doing so well. Just keep letting me take care of you."

You melt. That's all you've ever wanted. For her to take care of it. Of everything. And Wanda knows that.

She slides a finger inside you-slow, deliberate. You cry out, clinging to her like she's oxygen.

"Good girl," she breathes. "So good for me. My perfect little pet."

You whimper into her shoulder, brain full of fog and heat and her. Nothing else exists. Nothing else matters. Just this. Just her. Just the way her fingers curl just right, pressing into your walls until you're gasping her name like a prayer.

And then she stops.

You let out a sob, hips bucking, frantic. "No-Mommy

—please—!"

"Shh, shh," she murmurs, kissing your ear. "You'll come when I say. You're not in charge of your body anymore, baby. That's my job, remember?"

You nod frantically, tears slipping down your cheeks, thighs trembling around her hand.

"You're mine," she says again, slower. Deeper. Like it's a spell. "Say it."

"I'm yours."

"Again."

"I'm yours, Mommy. All yours."

She smiles. And starts moving again.

The second finger pushes in with ease, and you gasp at the stretch. Her thumb finds your clit. The rhythm she sets is almost cruel-perfect, punishing, loving.

"There you go," she whispers. "Now let go for Mommy. Be a good girl and come for me."

You do.

It rips through you like lightning. A tidal wave of pleasure, guilt, relief, and need. You sob against her as your body shakes in her arms, every nerve lit up like a firework.

She doesn't stop. Not until you're trembling, overstimulated, and still pressing your hips into her hand like a bunny in heat.

"My poor girl," she says softly, pulling her fingers free and licking them clean. "So starved for affection."

She doesn't stop. Not until you're trembling, overstimulated, and still pressing your hips into her hand like a bunny in heat.

"My poor girl," she says softly, pulling her fingers free and licking them clean. "So starved for affection."

You can't even speak. You're crying and whimpering and curled up against her chest like a baby, and it feels right. Like this is who you were meant to be.

Like this is where you belong.

"Shh, it's okay," Wanda murmurs, stroking your hair.

"It's all better now, isn't it? You don't have to think anymore. You don't have to want. You just have to let go."

You nod, delirious. Happy. Empty and full all at once.

"Mommy will keep you safe," she promises, tucking you back under the blanket. "Forever. You never have to leave. Never have to grow up."

And you believe her.

Because your dreams already belong to her.

And now, so does everything else.

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You're still shaking when she lays you down.

Not from fear. Not even from the orgasm. But from the come-down. The emotional unraveling. The way your brain turns to cotton after you've let yourself go that far, that deep, with her.

Wanda tucks the blankets around your body like you're something precious. Fragile. Something she owns, but not in a cold way— in the way a mother holds her child like they're the axis her world spins around.

"Easy," she murmurs, brushing your sweaty hair back from your forehead. "There's my good girl. You did so well for Mommy."

You want to respond, but your throat's tight. All you can do is cling to her shirt and try not to dissolve.

She doesn't rush you. She never does.

Instead, she sits back against the headboard and gently pulls you up with her, until you're resting against her chest, your head over her heart. You listen to the soft beat of it-steady, certain, like it could anchor you even if the world was ending.

Which, you suppose, she's probably prevented a few times this week already. "Breathe with me," she whispers. "Can you do that?"

You nod, inhaling shakily.

"That's it. Just like that, bunny. In through your nose, out through your mouth."

She guides you through a few slow rounds, her hand tracing slow circles on your back, her other hand cradling the back of your head. And little by little, your muscles begin to loosen.

"There we go," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're safe. I've got you."

You nuzzle into her without thinking. Still floating, still fuzzy.

And then, softly:

"I love being like this."

Wanda hums warmly. "Like what, sweetheart?"

"Little," you murmur. "Just... held. Protected. Like you're the only thing I have to worry about."

She smiles against your skin. "That's because you don't have to worry about anything. That's Mommy's job."

You hum, sleepy now. Your head rises and falls with each of her breaths. There's something primal about it-being curled against her like this. Something ancient. Deep. You feel like a baby animal safe in its den. Like you never even knew you needed this until she gave it to you.

"Mommy?" you whisper after a long moment of silence.

"Mhm?"

"..Can I ask something?"

"Anything, my love."

You hesitate. You don't know why you feel embarrassed. She's seen every inch of you. She's held you while you cried, while you begged, while you came apart in her arms. But this feels... different. Vulnerable in a new way.

"I've been thinking about something," you say quietly.

"And I don't think it's sexual. It's just—comfort."

Wanda doesn't press. She waits. Letting you find the words.

"Sometimes," you say slowly, "when I'm like this... when | feel really small... I get this... urge."

You pause. Wanda strokes your cheek, so gently it almost hurts.

"Tell me."

"I want to... I think I want to nurse from you. Not like a sex thing. I just want to feel close. Safe. Like I'm yours."

You go quiet again, afraid to look up.

But Wanda doesn't laugh. Doesn't flinch. She just smiles.

"Oh, bunny," she says softly. "You don't need to be embarrassed about that."

You blink. "

"...l don't?"

"Of course not." Her hand drifts down to cradle your jaw. "Wanting that kind of closeness is normal. Especially for someone like you. You're so emotionally open when you let yourself drop. You crave nurture, not just care. That's beautiful."

You bite your lip. "But I'm not actually a baby."

"No," she agrees gently. "You're not. You're my big girl. My sweet girl. And that's what makes this so special. Because you choose to be soft with me. To let me feed you. Hold you. Love you."

You breathe out a shaky little sigh, the shame in your chest loosening.

"Would you want that?" you ask. "Like….. actually?"

Wanda cups your face in both hands now. Her eyes are soft. Fierce. Certain.

"If it would comfort you?" she says. "Then yes. Without question."

You're quiet again. "You could... make it happen, couldn't you?"

She smiles faintly. "Bunny. I can bend reality. I can defy physics. I think I can manage a little magical lactation."

You giggle-surprised by your own lightness. It feels good to laugh after how intense everything was.

Wanda beams at the sound.

"I'd like that," you admit. "I don't even need it now. I just... I want it to be something we can do. Sometimes. If I feel too small. Or scared. Or like I don't know how to be a grown-up anymore."

Wanda doesn't answer right away. Instead, her hand moves to her chest, and with the gentlest whisper of scarlet, you feel it shift. A warmth, a pull-something ancient and primal awakening just beneath her skin.

You blink up at her, dazed. "Did you just—?"

"I told you," she murmurs, voice wrapped in love and power, "I'll give you whatever you need."

She reaches for the hem of her shirt and pulls it up slowly, revealing one soft, full breast, the peak slightly flushed, already responding to you. There's no eroticism in it-just invitation. Tenderness. The kind of gesture a goddess might make to her most devoted worshipper.

"Come here, sweetheart."

Your breath stutters, but your body knows what to do before your mind catches up. You shift up, still trembling, still so small, and Wanda gently guides your head to her chest.

"That's it," she whispers, brushing your hair from your face. "You're safe. Just take what you need."

Your lips close over her nipple slowly, hesitantly, and -

Warmth.

It's warm. Her milk is soft and subtly sweet on your tongue, and your whole body melts as you begin to suckle. Shame evaporates instantly-there's only the overwhelming, complete right-ness of this. Of her hand stroking your spine. Her heartbeat in your ear.

Her soft voice murmuring praise as your breathing slows and the fuzz in your brain dissolves like sugar in tea.

"There you go," she whispers. "Good girl. Mommy's so proud of you."

You feel like crying again. From relief, this time. From how utterly full you feel, in every sense of the word.

"That's it, my little bunny," Wanda hums. "Drink up. Fill that aching tummy. Let Mommy hold you.”

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A/N: I’ve never wrote anything in this style before, so please let me know how I did and if you enjoyed it! And if you guys want more then tell me.

Masterlist

[jokeconic]

MINORS DNI‼️

MommyDom!Wanda x Reader🧚‍♂️

Imagine Mommy!Wanda catches you touching yourself without permission🥹

‘Oh what do we have here? Oh baby were you really that desperate? You look absolutely pathetic.’

‘You really couldn’t wait for mommy to finish work? My poor little baby couldn’t even last one day.’

‘Here baby. Mommy will make you cum like you so desperately need.’

‘Too much? Oh no baby you wanted to cum so you’re going to cum over, and over until Mommy is satisfied. This is what you wanted princess. Good girl, let Mommy give you what you need.’

‘Shh shh I know angel. Mommy knows. You can do it baby. You wanted this, remember?’

[jokeconic]

you KNOW she and Peggy Carter fucked nasty

[jokeconic]

Wanda: Babe, I'll call you at 9

Y/N: Okay

Y/N, at 9:01: All a woman do is lie

[jokeconic]

As much as it sucks to be perpetually in love with women who are way too old for me, I am incredibly thankful that my attraction to women is not dependent on their youth. I cannot wait to watch a woman I love grow older and more attractive every day.

[jokeconic]

like clockwork (part 1)

SUMMARY: Wanda wears a bunny suit and you lose your mind a little.

TAGS: 18+ only, wanda x transmasc!reader, reader calls wanda bunny, wanda calls reader sir, reader has a penis, creampie, breeding kink, blowjob, they will be fucking like rabbits

AN: i have nothing else to say in my defence other than i got possessed by the thought of wanda wearing a bunny suit. thanks for coming to my ted talk and im not sorry for this pure filth. there's a part 2 btw.

"Bend down for me, bunny."

You hear Wanda huff before doing as she's been told, bending down on the arm of your couch. You're delighted to know, through the connection Wanda has graciously shared with you, that she's trying not to seem as eager as she actually is. The little witch did always love her tricks and brattiness. Something that you know you'd sooner fuck out of her than later.

You spread her feet wider as you step closer to Wanda, your clothed bulge flushed against her core. Her heat and wetness seaps through the fabric of your slacks at the brief contact.

"Pretty bunny," you whisper, trailing your palm across Wanda's back — the red bunny suit clinging tight on her skin — until you reach her nape and grab it, squeezing a little. "Aren't you such a pretty bunny?"

You can't help it, not really, not when Wanda looks as delicious as she currently does. So fuckable and so pliant. So wholly yours. And so you start grinding against her ass, the shape of your cock sliding between her drenched folds, bumping against her engorged clit.

"I believe I've asked you a question, my darling bunny."

Just like you couldn't help but tease yourself and her of what's to come by letting her feel you against where she needs you the most, you couldn't help the way your palm meets her right ass in reprimand.

There's something so intoxicating about Wanda's trust, freely given to you, without any expectations nor conditions. It's addicting. Maddening. The power she grants you in your bedroom.

"This is a reward, bunny, don't make me turn it into a punishment. Not when you've been so good to me."

The wanton moan coming out of her mouth is but a prelude to the other sounds you'd be pulling out of her.

"Sorry, Sir, I am your pretty bunny," Wanda says, turning to look at you. You watch her lick her lips slowly, seductively, before it gets snagged between her teeth. "I'll be good, I promise."

By the dark glint in her emerald eyes, you know she won't, and she knows that you know she won't be good. That she'd challenge you all throughout the night, until you and her have consumed each other's desires.

It's this incomprehensible dynamic you've built with her that actually gets you going. That trust she places on your hand, and your's in her's.

With a small smirk you send her way and your other palm colliding against her left cheek, you say, "We'll see."

You gather her arms at her back and with your belt, you tie them together. You lean down closer to her head, kissing just behind her ear, you murmur, "Not too tight, sweetheart?"

You feel Wanda testing her restraints before she answers you. "It's perfect, just like you, my love."

You give her a quick peck on the lips.

As you resume your upright position, you push her to sink deeper against the couch, her ass higher in the air with her on her tiptoes. The sight makes you salivate.

You caress her ass before gripping it harder, before you part it forcefully until the shape of her open cunt is visible through the underwear part of her costume. You slap her pussy.

You fish your cock out of your pants and boxers, fisting it on the head to stave off your impending orgasm. You never knew if Wanda's effect on your libido is a testament of your desire for her or if her magic has fundamentally reshaped your being to desire her as much as you do.

No matter the truth, you really do not care. You've long accepted that you could come untouched by the sight of Wanda alone. But you're not here to come untouched, nor make Wanda be untouched, never when she's in your presence.

You tug the fabric of her sheer pantyhose until it rips.

You and her have a collection of ripped clothing, by you, by her. But she still plays along the indignant lover whenever you destroy any piece of clothing that keeps her intimate parts from your gaze and your touch. You let her be with her dramatics as you hear the sound of its ripping is accompanied by Wanda's indignant cry.

The sight of her bare, sopping cunt still makes you want to drop to your knees and bury your face on it, even after all these years.

But you have promised her a reward and she has asked you to breed her and flood her womb with your seed, and so you shall. They could peel your layers one by one until all you have left are your bones, and they would see Wanda's name branded into every piece like some sick proof of ownership.

You rub your length against her sweetness, coating it generously with her slick.

"Don't tease, please, Sir," Wanda begs.

"I won't," you answer her, snapping your hips in one motion, sliding your shaft inside her in one go.

The heat, the warmth, the softness that grips you is nothing like what you have ever imagined. Wanda runs warm, this you've learned over the centuries.

When Wanda's surprised gasp tapers off into a moan, you pull all the way out until only your tip remains, then you bury yourself to the hilt once more. Her silent moan turning into a pleasure-filled scream that reverberates inside your skull.

Your thrusts are unrelentless and so are Wanda's gasps and moans and "Oh, right there, Sir please, please, please."

You have no intention to, of course, but you do slow down after a while.

The whine that comes out of Wanda is almost enough to make you slip your cock inside her cunt again. But alas, you have a plan.

"Why'd you stop," Wanda petulantly asks, pressing her forehead deeper on the couch cushions, trying to regulate her breathing.

You watch her pussy twitch, slick dripping out of her open hole clenching on nothing.

You tug off her restraints, throwing your belt somewhere off to the side. Rubbing her wrists gently, you press kisses on the thin skin over them.

"Come, bunny," you help Wanda up, her legs wobbly and trembling when she tries to stand.

It gives you a sinful thought.

"Go to the bedroom and wait for me. I want you lying on your back with your legs wide open and a dildo buried in your cunt while you play with your clit. Understood?"

Wanda closes her eyes to the image you paint for her, biting her lip to prevent herself from moaning, surely. "Yes, Sir. Will I wait for long?"

"No more than a couple of minutes."

"Will you tell me what you'll be doing while I'm waiting?" Wanda asks, tone playful and innocent all at once.

"I will be jerking my cock off here, to the thought of your cunt clenching on a plastic cock while you desperately rub your clit to cum. But we both know you won't be able to, would you bunny?"

"Why?" Wanda lets out a frustrated groan, stomping her foot in protest. "My pussy is better than your hand."

Oh, how you love a sexually frustrated Wanda. The things that come out of her mouth are simply... devilish, for they are things she would shy away from uttering if she weren't so desperate. Desperation on Wanda is the best, she'll do anything, allow anything, to get what she wants.

You grip her jaw with more force than usual, drunk off your rocker due to the liquid arousal coursing through your veins. "Careful, princess, brats get fucked, yes, but they don't get bred."

You let go of her face when she looks down, defiance quelled at the show of force.

Instead of obeying, however, Wanda kneels in front of you. Her face is mere inches away from your throbbing erection.

She takes hold of your thighs, fingers digging into the flesh. Wanda opens her mouth and descends on your twitching cock, her tongue guiding it inside her wet cavern.

You let out a soft sigh, closing your eyes when you feel her hollow out her cheeks, sucking you deeper in her throat. You open them shortly, not wanting to miss the performance Wanda's giving you.

You catch her watching your expression down to the minuscule twitches of your muscles and she catches your trained focus on her outstretched lips where her blood red lipstick is staining your crotch and your cock.

"Fuck my face, please, Sir," you hear Wanda say in your head.

At her plea, a smirk blooms on your face. "No."

You push her away from your cock, tugging her to stand before you.

Wanda looks utterly debauched. Lipstick smeared with your pre-cum and her saliva shining on her lips.

You kiss her hungrily, licking at her lips until she gives your tongue permission to explore her mouth.

The way you kiss her is filthy, like you're trying to carve yourself into her. It doesn't take long, however, before you're pushing her away.

"Bedroom, baby, I won't ask again," you say.

Wanda pouts, mumbling incoherently under her breath. She wouldn't be your little brat if she didn't find any opportunity to try and challenge you.

You watch her trying her hardest to steady her legs enough to walk up the stairs toward your bedroom. The sight of her, her bunny suit still relatively covering her save for the obvious tear on her inner thighs, is something you know you'd recall for lonely nights when she's not with you.

You take a firm grip on your cock and you start rubbing it up and down, your thumb swiping against its slit.

When you feel your pleasure doubling, you know Wanda has started touching herself. The connection between the two of you shares every thought and every emotion through the link, no matter where you both are in the universe. You tell her through it, "I'm coming up, bunny."

"Mhm, hurry please," is her breathless answer.

You take the stairs two at a time. If Wanda is desperate for your touch, you're already miles ahead. Sometimes, it feels like you'd die if your hands or any part of your skin isn't tangled or touching hers. A physical manifestation of your desire and longing for the other woman.

What greets you is nothing short of sinful.

In the middle of your bed lies Wanda, her legs spread open and she's fucking herself with her favorite maroon dildo, her other hand circling her clit. Still wearing her bunny suit with the bunny ears headband.

You don't waste time climbing on top of her, pulling her hand with the dildo away from your prize. Without nary a word or a warning, you slip your cock inside her quivering hole. You take her other hand in yours, fingers drenched with her arousal, and put them inside your mouth. The second her taste reaches your palate, a moan reverberates deep in your chest.

Wanda wraps her legs around your hips, her ankles digging into the flesh of your ass. The action and the taste of her on your tongue spur you on. You thrust harder. Some part of you registers the sound of your creaking bed but it's easily drowned by the sounds of skin meeting skin, the breathy moans coming from under you.

You lean down until your body is flush against Wanda, your elbow propped beside her head to make sure you don't crush her with your weight. Wanda reaches out and pulls you in a feverish kiss. Her hands snake around you until her fingers are raking red welts on your back.

When Wanda's eyes flutter open and you barely see the emerald green of them with her blown pupils, you know fully that she sees the same look mirrored in yours.

You pull away from her hold and stand on your knees, her legs falling from their place on your hips. At the action, a sob bursts out of Wanda, "No, no, please. Don't go."

You lean down again to kiss her softly to reassure her. "I won't, bunny. I just wanna watch you fall apart for me."

You press kisses all over her face, down to her throat, sucking a hickey on the crook of her neck. You then lick a stripe down her sternum before biting on the exposed flesh of her upper breast. You make a mental note to remove Wanda's corset later to play with her neglected breasts.

When Wanda's distress calms down, you stand straight and look down on her — hair wild on the pillows, bottom lip caught between her teeth, and hands gripping the headboard tight.

You tug her lip down with your thumb before pressing it inside her mouth. Without any command, Wanda wraps her tongue around it, coating it in her spit. With a light grip on her chin, you make her open her mouth wider and press your thumb on her tongue. She looks up at you under her lashes, letting you prod her mouth with your digit.

After removing it out of her, you suck the same thumb in your mouth. Once you're satisfied with it, you press it on her clit.

Wanda comes with a silent cry, her legs tensing beside yours, her head digging on the pillows. You watch pleasure take ahold of your wife's body. Between the sight of her and the way her walls are clenching on your shaft, your climax doesn't surprise you.

The thought of coming directly against her womb suddenly springs on your mind, followed by a soft "Please," from Wanda.

Logically, you don't know how you could. But fuck logic. You promised in your vows to fulfill any wish, any desire, she might have on your wedding night.

And so, for every rope of cum shooting out of your cock, you jog your hips closer. You rest your forehead on Wanda's chest, overwhelmed and overstimulated.

When you come to, you feel Wanda's fingers carding through your locks, humming softly. You look up at her, still nuzzled against her chest.

"Hi," you greet her.

"Hey, you" she says in turn.

You wiggle a little when trying to sit up, only to wince alongside Wanda, when you realize your limp and very sensitive cock is still inside her also very sensitive pussy.

"Sorry," you say sheepishly, pulling out as gently as you could.

Your attention is arrested when you see your cum dripping out of Wanda.

"Pervert," you hear Wanda say in your head.

"I'll show you 'pervert.'"

Grabbing your semi-hard cock, you gather the dripping slick on your tip and insert them back in her twitching hole.

"Fuck."

You lick your lips, watching Wanda's serene expression melt into one of pleasure once more.

"More?" you ask her.

[jokeconic]

just a lil tiktok video to heal the world 🌎❤️‍🩹

one of my fav versions of who mommy!wanda could have been in another universe 🫶🏻

[jokeconic]

When Y/N says some fuck ass Y/N shit so now I just gotta sit there and ponder.