#wanda maixmoff

[togrowoldinv]

The Clubhouse

WandaNat x Female Reader

When the richest members of the country club approach you about joining their relationship, you can’t say no to them.

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, oral (N and R receiving), strap on sex (R and W receiving), essentially sugar mommies

Note: Enjoy!

WandaNat Masterlist, Main Masterlist

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Natasha’s raspy voice asks.

You barely hear her over the sound of your own heart beating. She is so close to you. Her hand is on your thigh, just a little too high to be friendly. Her nose presses against your neck.

“Yeah. It’s just- this is coming out of nowhere,” you say.

“Is it?” Wanda asks. Her tone is a bit condescending. You can’t help but press your thighs together at the way it makes you feel.

“We’ve been flirting with you for months now,” Natasha says. “You haven’t noticed?”

You shake your head. Wanda grabs your chin a little roughly to force you to look into her eyes. This is way too intimate for a public area of the clubhouse. A corner booth doesn’t offer much privacy.

Wanda and Natasha frequent this bar area often after their visits to the course. You never knew that they paid any attention to you working.

“Use your words, baby,” Wanda instructs.

“No, I didn’t notice,” you reply.

“That’s a shame,” Wanda says. “We thought about you every night. Didn’t we, Natasha?”

“Mhm, we did,” Natasha agrees. She moves her mouth to your neck and leaves a few opened mouth kisses. “Every night as I buried my face in my wife’s pussy I thought about what yours might taste like.”

You bite your lip and can’t help but close your eyes at the feeling of her lips, and her words make you feel unspeakable things.

Wanda presses her lips to the other side your neck, following the same delicate pattern that Natasha did.

“And when I rode her strap, I thought about how good you’d look doing the same. Being so good for us,” Wanda says.

“What did you say, baby? Will you join us?” Natasha asks.

You almost nod without speaking, but you remember Wanda said to use your words.

“Yes,” you breathe out. You’re not really sure why you agree, but you know that you want to see where this goes. “I- um- I don’t get off until 8.”

“I can fix that,” Natasha says. She gets up from beside you. You miss her warmth already.

“Let’s go to the car,” Wanda says. She holds your hand and walks with you to the door. Natasha meets you there.

“You’re free to leave,” Nat says. She places a hand on your back to lead you out of the clubhouse. “And don’t worry, this will be better than any tip you’ll get from these men.”

Outside, there is a car waiting for Wanda and Nat. They help you into the backseat with them. Their thighs press against yours as they sit close. Natasha fields a few calls on the car ride to their house.

When you arrive, the driver opens the door to reveal the absolute mansion Wanda and Nat live in. The two women walk you inside. They share a nod and Wanda walks to the other room. Natasha ushers you into the living room.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Natasha says. She gestures to the couch. You sit and watch as she makes a drink. “Would you like one?”

“I’m okay,” you reply.

“Y/n,” she says as she walks to the couch. She is wearing a fur coat that reveals enough of her chest that you want to see more. Her blonde hair is styled perfectly. “Are you afraid of me?”

“No,” you say too quickly. “Intimidated by you is actually it.”

“Ah, okay,” Natasha says. “And Wanda?”

“Same thing,” you tell her.

“We’re just people, you know.”

Wanda enters the room. She shed her blazer and is now wearing dress pants and a white blouse. Her brown hair cascades over the material.

“I made you a drink,” Natasha says to Wanda.

“Thank you, my love,” Wanda replies. She takes her drink from the table and sits on the couch on the other side of you. “So, what did I miss?”

“Oh nothing,” Nat replies.

“Did you tell her what we want?” Wanda asks as if you aren’t there. Nat shakes her head. “Well, then I will. Y/n, we are very attracted to you. And we wanted to ask you to join us. No strings attached. Just sex. What do you think?”

“I- um-”

“Wanda, don’t scare her,” Natasha jumps in. Her hand rubs your back. “We can take it slow. For example, can I kiss you?”

“Okay,” you agree.

Natasha’s hand comes to your neck as she pulls you in for a kiss. Her plump lips brush against yours softly. You feel your entire body burning with pleasure. She doesn’t deepen the kiss, but it was enough to make you think you’d say yes to anything she asked.

“How was that?” Natasha asks.

“Wow,” you say seriously. The blonde chuckles.

“Wanda, why don’t you try,” Nat tells her wife.

Wanda pulls you her way and kisses your lips much in the same way that Natasha did. She tastes different though. Her kiss is hungrier. You get the feeling this was her idea and Nat is doing it to make her happy. Not that she minds.

When Wanda stops kissing you, Natasha is quick to bring her in for a kiss. The two of them kiss in front of you. The sight of their tongues mingling alone is enough to get you off.

“You like that?” Natasha asks you. She noticed the way you were staring.

You nod. Wanda suddenly leans forward and bites your neck. It hurts but not more than it feels good.

“Words, detka. Words,” she says.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

Wanda seemingly forgives you as she kisses your lips again. Nat moves her deft fingers over your button up. It seems she is magic as she unbuttons all of them by the time Wanda moves her attention to your chest.

The brunette uses her hands to push open your shirt. Your bra falls to the side. You assume Natasha also took that off you when Wanda was distracting you with her intoxicating lips.

“So beautiful,” Wanda breathes out. “I have imagined this.”

Natasha stands from the couch. She opens her coat to reveal she is completely naked aside from a red strap connected to her hips. Your eyes go wide at the sight. Wanda grins. She takes your nipple into her mouth while she takes the other with her fingers.

“Do you want to ride my strap, baby?” Natasha asks you.

“Yes please,” you say.

“Good girl,” Natasha says.

She sits on the couch next to you, pulling you onto her lap. She moves the tip of the strap over your folds. Wanda sits up higher on the couch and takes her wife’s breast into her mouth. Natasha slips the strap into you. You press your forehead against hers as she fills you up.

“Fuck, I knew she could take your cock so well,” Wanda says.

“I know, sweetheart. She is so fucking wet and tight,” Natasha says.

“I can’t wait to taste her for myself,” Wanda says. “To make her feel so good.”

Natasha’s hands move your hips back and forth as she pounds the strap into you. She hits the sweet spot over and over again. You feel yourself losing control.

“Come for me, y/n,” Nat instructs you.

You come hard against her strap, slowing your movements until you fall against her. She kisses your head softly. A stark contrast of how she was just pounding into you. The two women give you a moment to catch your breath.

Nat helps you slip off her strap. Wanda kneels on the floor in front of the couch. She spreads your legs open again before burying her face between them. Nat situates herself behind Wanda. She pulls her pants down her legs enough to gain access to her. Nat presses her strap into her wife.

Wanda groans as she feels Nat bury herself deep into her. The taste of you gets her high quickly. You squirm under her tongue and that spurs her on further.

“So fucking good,” Natasha says, accentuating each word with the movement of her hips.

“Fuck,” you mumble. You won’t last much longer.

You see Natasha smirk as she feels Wanda coming against her. Her pleasure is enough to finish you off. Coming hard against Wanda’s tongue, you fall apart.

The two women stop their ministrations and catch their breath. Wanda takes the strap off of Natasha’s hips. She kisses the woman before directing her to sit on the couch.

“I want to see you eat her out,” Wanda says to you.

“Yes ma’am.”

You stand from the couch and kneel before Natasha. Her strong hands direct you exactly where she wants you. Natasha smirks at how in heaven you look between her legs. Wanda moves her fingers over Nat’s pussy lips to work in tandem with your tongue.

“That’s it, baby. Make her feel so good,” Wanda says. She lifts your head to kiss you before pushing you back to Natasha’s clit. You suck her until her hips stutter beneath you.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” Natasha says.

Wanda removes her hand to let you have the moment when Natasha comes to yourself. She is so beautiful falling apart underneath you. Once she comes down from her high, she pulls you up into her lap. You rest your head on Natasha’s shoulder.

Wanda sits next to you and the three of you recover together.

“How do you feel, y/n?” Wanda asks.

“I’m good,” you say. And you really are.

“I think this is going to work out just fine,” Natasha says.

After that day, Natasha and Wanda continue to see you at the clubhouse. Whenever they ask you to leave with them, you never turn them down. Why would you? They are absolutely perfect.

[lis-likes-fics]

Never Knew You Needed Me

Pairings: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Reader Word Count: 18.4k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, stalking, masturbation, voyeurism, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, obsessive/possessive behavior, lesbian sex, strap-on use, somnophilia (so technically dub con), dacryphilia, oral (f receiving), overstim, multiple orgasms, fingering, degradation (name calling), praise kink, scratching, language... A/N: I got a little carried away with this fic but I finally finished and now it is ready for all of you to enjoy! It's been a while since I've written for Wanda, so this has been a joy to work on. I also tried writing in a new perspective, which was really fun! Thank you and happy reading! <3

My beautiful zajačik.

If only you knew how much you need me.

A new employee at the little café around the block, you were a sweet thing. Every morning, when I come in for my Chai or salted caramel latte, you greet me with a kind smile and kind eyes.

"Welcome back," you'd say. "What am I getting you today, Wanda?"

And I would smile back, memorize the sweetness in your face before replying with my order. Oh, you are beautiful. Your eyes, your lips, your nose, your hair—you are the picture of perfection. My perfect zajačik.

From the first moment I saw you, I knew you were meant to be mine, all mine. You're a little clumsy, nearly dropping the cup in your hand as you pluck it from the stack to write my name along the side. But you are smiley, giggling here and there at your little mishap and apologizing gently as you go along.

Poor thing, I had thought to myself.

I know you love me—or you will. You will love me, crave to be in my protection, held in my arms, close to my heart like some cherished little thing.

You will feel the heat of my love for you, the warmth of my soul protecting your own. You will be mine. As soon as I heard my name fall from your sweet lips, I knew you would be mine.

As I walk up to the little counter where you wait with a black apron and a smile, I feel my heart clenching in my chest. You mutter those same words to me, affection licking each one and drenching it in a saccharine endearment.

"I think I'll have my latte today," I reply warmly, my eyes assessing every inch of what was new.

You wear a new blouse today, one I had watched you buy from the expensive store around the corner. A gift to yourself. Curious that you decided to wear it this Tuesday, your first workday of the week, the first day you would be seeing me again.

Aww, precious thing, I think. She wants to impress me.

"I love your new blouse," I smile, deciding to give you what you want since you have been so sweet as to think of me.

Your smile spreads wider as you grab my cup to write my name on. "Thank you," you chuckle. "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it," I reinforce, almost a correction. Your smile widens. "Anything coming up this week?" I don't want you to stop talking. The sound of your voice is a salve to the noise of humanity around us.

You shrug adorably. "Not that I can think of. Wake up, work, go home, sleep. That's about my schedule for the week. What about you?"

What about me? I stifle my laugh, glancing at my shoes and shaking my head as I bite my lip. I look back up at your sweet gaze. "Entirely uneventful."

You chuckle, looking at me with that hopeful gaze of yours. "Well, then, maybe you and I could figure something out, hm?"

I could kiss you, those pillowy lips which taste of fruit flavored chapstick.

"Maybe," I agree, stepping away from the counter to finally relent to the impatient woman I can feel burning holes into the back of my head. I have no care for her, she is not important, but if I must, I will.

My eyes stay glued to your face as I shift off to the side to allow you your next customer. From where I stand in the little café, waiting for my order, I continue to watch you. So beautiful, so perfect.

You treat everyone with such kindness, so impartial to the follies of man in order to rely on whatever good you can pull from them when they choose to offer it. Do you not get tired? Hungry for more of that virtue held so tightly in the palm of everyone's greedy hands, only to be given in scarcity at exclusively the most necessary times?

If you do, you don't show it. So trusting of humanity. My perfect, foolish zajačik.

But it's okay. Soon, you will not need to worry about such things. Your mind will be put to rest from the horrors of man. I will take you in my arms and give you the only world you will ever need.

But for now, you hand me my latte and a kind farewell, smiling at me all the way out of the door and some time after as well.

~

You roam the aisle, your delicate fingers skimming the spines of a variety of library books. One book is clenched in one hand, held to your chest as you look for another. Pretty and Reckless, a book you picked up last week in search of a good read.

I try not to pull myself away from the bookmark rack too quickly, but you're so pretty. I can't help but to want to hear your precious voice.

"Whatcha reading?" I finally ask as I approach you with just as warm a smile.

You turn to me, and your eyes are as bright as the stars that shine over your apartment in the dead of night. "Wanda!" you exclaim quietly, respectful of the peace of the library. "What are you doing here?"

So precious.

"Well, it is a library. Pretty sure it's public domain," I nearly coo, entranced in the cute little look on your face, the blush rising on your cheeks.

"Right. Um, yeah," you stumble over your words, nervous and awkward and mesmerized by me. Me. The woman I know you love, will love. Soon. "I just finished this book by Charity Ferrel," you shake your head, clearing your thoughts, "it's called Pretty and Reckless."

"Sounds interesting."

You nod excitedly, "It's about this girl named Elise who basically falls for her polar opposite: he's cool and collected, she's fiery and reckless. In the description it says, like, 'He tried to save her. She tried to ruin him.'"

I hum, nodding gently as I cling to every word that falls from your lips. "I might have to check that one out sometime."

You nod again, shifting the book to your other hand. "You should; it's a good read," you smile. You tuck some hair behind your ear, and my fingers itch to do the same, to touch your smooth skin, to caress you. "What about you?" you ask, gesturing toward my own book. "What were you reading?"

"Tell Me to Stop."

"Oh," you hold your breath, so delicate and small. For a moment, I thought I startled you. But, now I see in the darkening of your cheeks, you're enticed by the title.

I knew you would be.

"Charlotte Byrd," I smile. "She owes a debt. He decides she can settle it with a deal: he gets her for a year and she has to do basically anything he tells her to. But," you hang onto my every word like I've put a spell on you, "she refuses to sleep with him. So he promises that, by the end of the year, she'd be begging for it."

Perhaps I got lost in the description a little as I stare at your beautiful face, soft lips parted and eyes focused on me. Either way, you're not affected in any way that tells me to stop.

You breathe a gentle sigh. "Sounds like Stockholm Syndrome."

I raise a brow. "You don't like it?"

"On the contrary," you shift. You recover your smile and shake your head, glancing back and forth between me and your shoes. "You're so much better at descriptions than me."

I shrug my shoulder. "No worries. You're cute." I probably say it with too much fondness, but you shudder at the gentle compliment.

You clear your throat. "Why don't we switch? Read and reconvene?"

I lean forward slightly, just to be a little closer to you as I charm you with a grin. "That sounds like a beautiful idea."

"Great!" you beam. "So…" You struggle to come up with something else to say, to propose a meeting.

That's okay. Once you're officially mine, you'll never have to worry about such things.

"Come back in a week?" I suggest. "Or we could get coffee sometime before then?" I reach out, my movements out of your line of view, and you shudder when my tender touch grazes your wrist.

"Oh," you breathe, "sure!" You think for a moment before reluctantly moving from my embrace in favor of reaching into your purse. You pull out a pen and a crumpled up receipt and write down your number.

"Just…" you finish writing and look up with a smile to offer up the receipt, "feel free to call me anytime?"

I take it, despite the fact that I already have your number memorized.

"Will do," I promise. I hand my book to you, and you take it with a lingering gaze. "Let's go check out."

You agree, beginning to walk at my side. You stiff and lean into my hand when I set it on the small of your back. You're so responsive to my touch, you always have been.

When we gather outside of the library, our new books in our arms, you shuffle in your spot and I watch you with my adoring gaze. "I hope you enjoy the book," you smile sincerely.

"I'm sure I will. You suggested it. I trust your taste."

"Oh, uh, thanks." You lick your bottom lip and roll it between your teeth. You look at me again, a twinge of regret lingering in your gaze as you offer a gentler grin. "I should probably go."

Aww, you don't want to leave me. But that's okay. It will always be okay. I'll never leave you.

"Okay," I reach out and grab your hand. It's so soft, I can't help but to glide my thumb over the back of your palm. You shudder at my touch as your smile falters.

"I'll be seeing you around, sweetheart."

Your breath trembles and your lips curve up once more. "See you."

I linger there a moment longer than I should before I separate from you and turn on my heel to walk down the street. I feel your eyes gaze after me, and I smile to know you want me so badly to be next to you.

~

This night is still and silent. The stars glint off of your windows and the full moon in the sky gleams with a beauty you easily trump. It is your last day at work for the week, and you had a tendency to stay up a little longer on such nights.

You're so pretty, laying in front of the window just wide enough to showcase your bed, your feet kicked up behind you. Your curtains are wide open, unafraid of the eyes that may wonder into your home. It's like you know I'm here, like you can feel the heat of my gaze over your skin and you crave more. You're reading the book I suggested to you, and you have been reading it for nearly an hour now.

I'm distracted from you as a set of bright headlights shine down the road and onto my car. My smile falls a little when I see it slowing to a stop in front of your home before I realize just what it is: a delivery truck. The man steps out of his truck with a small package, making his way up to your door where he knocks.

You perk up, excited for the expected delivery as you rush out of your room. You disappear from my view for too long before reappearing at the door with one of your kind smiles.

You thank him kindly as he hands you your package before he retreats from the door with the wish of "have a good night". You close the door and disappear for longer than you had before.

When you get back to your room, you turn off the main light and replace it with the gentle glow of your lamp. Your gaze lingered on your package for a moment before you set it on your nightstand. Grabbing your book, you venture to your tiny desk and set it down, gliding your hand over the cover.

You let a gentle sigh pass through your lips, and I watch you sit on your bed and lay back on your sheets. You don't cover yourself with your blanket, and my breath stalls as I watch you brush your hands over the skin of your bare legs uncovered by your tiny shorts. Your palms knead your flesh, dipping in the valley of your thighs and just rubbing the skin as you breathe.

Your hand rubs along the clothed junction of your thighs. Your fingers tease the band before you dip your hand underneath to feel yourself. You're so beautiful, touching yourself with your closed eyes and open curtains.

Your hips shift slightly against your own touch before your relenting, pulling your shorts down your legs and leaving you in nothing but those sweet panties of yours. Your fingertips graze over the fabric, and your legs twitch at the sensations. I watch as your other hand glides along your belly before dipping underneath your shirt and cupping your breast. You grab and grope and flick at your nipple under the shirt as the movements relay to your other hand.

"My sweet girl needs me," I whisper to myself, but I make no move to get out of my car. No, it isn't time yet.

I reach into the glove department, wrapping my hand around the fabric neatly folded in its place. I bring it to my face, inhaling a deep breath as the scent of you fills my brain. On a long exhale, I open my eyes again and raise my hand. The scarlet flicks of my fingers twirls in the air and seeps through your window. "Take your clothes off for me, baby."

My magic reaches you, soaking into your skin and filling you with my will, the will you so desperately need. Like the obedient little toy you are, you obey me and strip down until you are bare for me.

Fuck, you're so pretty. My pretty zajačik.

Your finger glides through your folds before you're circling your little clit. Your body squirms, arching into your hands as your peaked nipples keen to your touch. I want so badly to touch you, to do as you do as you finally press your finger into your little hole.

Immediately, your mouth falls open and a tiny moan leaves from your throat. You grind your hips into your hand and you grab your breast roughly.

I can't help myself, watching your fingers sink in and out of your squelching pussy is like a drug to me. Slipping my hand under the waistband of my jeans, my finger meets my own throbbing clit. I rub gentle circles on it, enough to calm my burning ache for you.

You fuck yourself with your fingers, and the sound of your wetness dripping from your cunt is hypnotic.

But then you stop, and you pull your fingers from yourself. I watch, curious as to what has pushed you to stop granting yourself the pleasure you so desperately deserve.

And then she sees you reach for your nightstand, grabbing the package you'd just received. Opening it with trembling hands, you slowly reveal the new toy you'd gotten. It's crude, a red dildo of no impressive size, but nothing particularly disappointing. My lips quirk into a smirk and I lean forward toward my window to watch you.

You stare at it for a moment, catching your breath as you stroke it in the palm of your wet hand. With bated breath, you position the thing between your legs, gliding it through your soaking folds to lather it in your arousal.

And when you poke it inside of you, you stifle a moan. I watch with vivid fascination as you take it inside of you, inch by inch, until it is sheathed all the way to the hilt. You let out a breath, breaking off into a moan.

My finger digs inside of me, pressing through my wet folds and filling me as I curl and pump it in and out of my hole in rhythm with the dildo inside of your own. You're reduced to gasps and moans, whimpering around the length that fills you.

"Oh, baby," I moan. My sweet little zajačik just needs someone to fuck her, doesn't she?

As if you can hear me all the way from where I watch, you moan and gasp out a chant of yes, yes, yes. Your finger keeps circling your clit, bringing you closer and closer to that explosive release you so crave.

My fingers curl and I clench around them, sucking them in as I ride my hand like you ride your new toy. I can feel myself getting closer, and closer, and closer. I need you, just like you need me.

Your gasps are short and rough, your hips are stuttering, your back is arching. You're so close now. So close.

"Cum for me, my love, my zajačik. Cum for me," I sigh out, breathless.

And like the good girl you are, you obey. You suck in a deep breath, closing your eyes and moaning as a pathetic whimper rises within you. You cum hard, riding the wave to the very end as I follow behind in just as powerful a release.

Fuck, you're perfect. You need me so much. You need me to fuck you like you deserve, my good girl.

You lay limp on your sheets for a while, coming back to yourself before you pull the dildo from your spent cunt. You stand on trembling thighs, retreating into your bathroom to clean yourself up before you crawl into your sheets after turning off your lamp and allow yourself to succumb to sleep.

You're asleep in no time, so tired, so precious. I stare for a while longer before I'm looking back through my windshield and then down at my wet fingers. I smile, chuckling a little as I shake my hand. "You've made such a mess of me, baby," I whisper, bringing my finger to my lips and sucking on them absent-mindedly before I'm collecting myself again.

I let out a gentle breath before glancing at your window again, your sleeping body at peaceful rest. "I love you," I promise.

Starting the car again, I pull out of my spot and drive away from your house, excited to see you again tomorrow.

~

"How's the reading going?"

The question falls easily from my lips as I see her once again at the café.

"Actually," you smile almost bashfully, shrugging a shoulder cutely. "I finished the book. It was really good."

I smile wide, "Yeah?"

"Yes," you bite your lip. "Thanks for recommending it."

"Of course."

You sigh, "What about you?"

I scoff lightly. "Oh, I'm almost finished. I've been so busy lately," I smile gently to myself, "I haven't been able to read as much."

"I get it," you chuckle. You become bashful again, licking your bottom lip and glancing down at the counter. "Hey, so I was thinking. Wanna, like—I mean, if you're not busy… We could get lunch? Or even just coffee if you don't have a lot of time."

My sweet girl, finally working up the nerve to ask me out yourself. The pride swells inside of me as I nod and smile. "That sounds amazing."

Your face lights up with pure jubilation, eyes flashing with light and smile full of joy. "Okay, good!" you exclaim softly. "Um, I'll text you."

"Alright," I agree, reaching over to pluck the marker from your fingers to write my number on a small cup for you. "In the meantime," I hand the cup to you, "I'll have my Chai."

"No problem," your grin is so sweet. I fawn over your beauty as you ring up my order and finally force yourself to tend to the next customer.

And when we finally go on that date, stealing your lunch hour away to sit in the café with our books in hand, I know now more than ever that we were meant to be together. You laugh and talk and express every feeling you have about your book. Then you talk about how pretty you think I am, and I tell you how beautiful you are in return. You reach out to caress my fingers across the table, and I reach over and take your hands in mine to finally stop this teasing wandering of touches. You brush hair out of my face, you tell me I'm lovely, and when your lunch break ends, I depart reluctantly from the table and let you get back to work with the promise of seeing you again.

Sooner than expected.

For that night, when you're sound asleep in your bed, your front door opens with a gentle swing. I walk into the house, closing the door gently behind me as I venture through the house. I wander into your little kitchen, opening the fridge and cabinets to see the food not entirely stocked. Your other cabinets are full of paper plates, a few glass dishes for guests, and mix-matched plastic dishes.

I tut gently, shaking my head with a gentle sigh before heading over to the tiny living room. There's one small sofa, big enough for three people at most. The television is just as small, but it's hardly ever used due to work and reading. There's a small blue ceramic dolphin on the coffee table. Picking it up, I chuckle at the little tape note hidden on the bottom that reads "demon". This, I will bring with me. I put it in my pocket, patting it twice for safekeeping.

I walk down the slim hall to your room, opening the door as silently as I can as my eyes fall on your sleeping form. So peaceful.

I glance around the room, content with being in this cozy space again. My fingers graze the top of the dresser, opening the top drawer as they feel the soft fabric of underwear messily tossed in the space. I grab one—for safekeeping—and wrap it around the dolphin.

Bending down to my knees in front of your bed, I lift the covers spilling over the edge and reach underneath the frame for the little box waiting there. As I pull it from under its hiding place, I open it up to be sure and smile at the sight of the new toy I've watched you use a number of times now. Yes, I would keep this, too.

I flick my wrist and the box shifts out of view with red dust drifting around the space it once occupied. As I stand to my feet, I join you at the side of your bed and kneel once more just to see your pretty face as you sleep.

I linger there a moment. You're so pretty, I want to kiss those soft lips of yours. I could do more. You usually slept so heavily, you would only awaken if I spoke to you…

I could graze my hand along your side, I could spread your pretty thighs, I could let my hand slip under those shorts where you wore no panties and do what I wanted with you until the touch became too obviously real for your little mind to dismiss it as part of a dream sequence. You would wake up to my lips wrapped around that pretty cunt of yours, and you would moan and gasp my name.

How I wanted to do it… I wanted it so badly…

But I would not. Not yet. You needed to know you were mine first.

So I leaned down and I pressed my lips upon your own until I was satisfied with the tingle of my bitten flesh and pulled away. Placing a hand on your cheek, my thumb stroked your cheek as I smiled warmly.

"Hey," I whisper, brushing my hair away from my face so you would be able to see me. "Hey, sweetheart."

The way you awake, soft at first before the shock of it all startled you, is hypnotic. A flash of urgency strikes through you until you are rushing to get up. But I don't let you, holding you down gently by your shoulders.

"Wanda?" you suddenly recognize me. "What are you doing here?" Your voice is heavy with sleep, but frantic with what is probably fear. You don't need to be afraid.

"I came to get you," I smile, trying to ease your nerves. It's just me. You can trust me.

But you're just a little slow, my slow little zajačik.

"What? Why?" you stutter in a hurry to get the words out.

I shake my head as my smile widens. "Don't worry about that," I coo softly. "I've got you, baby."

It feels so nice to be able to call you that: baby, my baby, my precious little thing. Because now you would know, you could know, how much I love you.

Tears begin to sting your eyes. How sweet. You must be so happy to see me, you can't keep it in. You close your eyes as my thumb swipes under them and wipes your tears away. You don't miss the way I bring my thumb to my lips and taste the salty taste of your tears for me.

"Please," your voice trembles and I smile. "Just let me go, please."

My smile falters. Let you go? Why would I do that? You must be so confused, just waking up and finding me here. Silly little thing. Not to worry, everything would be okay.

My hand strokes your cheek, and I reassure you in a gentle tone to accommodate for my lack of a smile. Your breath shudders, your lips tremble. You're so pretty.

"Shh…" I whisper as another tear slips down your cheek. "It's okay. It's okay. Just breathe. Everything will be okay."

You shake your head, your voice squeaking on an inhale. "Wan–"

You don't get to finish my name, for my magic has already seeped into your skull and willed your mind to relax. You fall limp into your bed, your face returning to that peaceful rest that I love to see on you. I smile, stroking your cheek again and kissing your forehead before wrapping my arms around your body.

I pull you into me, your unconscious body allowing me to hold you like I've never been able to do better. You feel amazing, heavenly. I crave more of your touch, but I mustn't get sidetracked. I glance at your sleeping face and trail my hand through your hair.

"Everything is okay, zajačik."

~

"Hey, hey, hey," I bid softly as you slowly stir, finally coming to after being asleep for so long. Poor thing, you were passed out.

That same startled expression from the night before springs you awake as you shoot up and out of the bed. I hold you down to prevent your little head from spinning.

"Calm down," I whisper. "You're safe."

"Where am I?"

You precious thing. You don't have to worry, you don't have anything to be afraid of. This is a new place, you're going to be a little disoriented. But that's okay. Nothing a little bit of food can't fix.

I smile wide, in awe of the truth I get to tell. "You're home." Home at last.

But you shake your head, looking around frantically. Your breath is so quick, you'll start hyperventilating if you don't calm down.

"This isn't my home." Your voice is trembling. You're adorable when you're scared. You're not adorable when you deny my love.

But you're just a little scared. You don't mean it.

I sigh and tilt my head. I raise my hand to your cheek, my thumb stroking down the length of it as I keep my smile. "It is now."

There's silence where you absorb what you've just been told. You stare at me with wide eyes, and I can't help but admire just how pretty you really are.

I pull away and clap my hands lightly. You flinch at the sudden movement, your eyes frantic again. "I'm making breakfast." I stand to my feet and venture toward the door. "I hope you're hungry."

As my hand touches the handle, your words stop me in my tracks.

"Wanda, you kidnapped me."

They hit my chest and my head at the same time. My fists clench, my lip twitches, and I must calm myself before I do something we'll both regret.

I turn slowly, clenching my jaw as I look at you. The fear in your face has only grown and I force myself to smile to ease your nerves. From what I see, it does not work well.

"I…" I sigh and my wavering smile struggles to stay. "I brought you home."

You continue to oppose.

"You took me from my home." Tears are falling again, streaming down your cheeks and reddening your eyes. You're shaking.

My patience is wearing thin, but I try to keep it for you. "You should be grateful," I say, the irritation clear in my voice, though I try to hide it. "You'll never have to worry about anything anymore." I take a step closer, reaching out to you. "I'll keep you safe, and I'll take care of you, and I'll make sure you're never alone." I sigh and tilt my head, smiling wide. "You need me."

You speak so fast that you stumble over your words, silly girl. This is why you need me–

"No, I don't need you. I need to go home."

"You are home."

"No, I'm not!"

"Enough!"

You jolt, looking away from my reddening gaze and down to your lap as my command frightens you. You tremble and shake as you hide away from me.

Oh, my sweet girl, my darling. It hurts to see you like this, to see you cower because of my harsh words. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.

The silence thickens and the air feels sticky with fear, which, to my discomfort, smells sweet as sugar. I had hoped your fear wouldn't stick to my fingers like syrup, saccharine and honeyed.

"I'm so sorry," I sigh, the sorrow clinging to my stomach as I walk toward you. I fall to my knees before the bed, taking your face in my hands so you can see my remorse. "I'm so sorry. You'll never have to worry again." I pull you close, resting my forehead against yours. Your breath shakes and your body is still quivering.

"I've got you," I assure you, pulling away to gaze at you. You're so pretty.

Your voice is so small as a mouse, a tiny little squeak. "I wanna go home."

I smile gently, stroking your cheeks again to let you feel the warmth of my palms. "Oh…my love," I whisper. I bring your face closer, barely a distance away from my own. "You are home."

You don't respond. Perhaps you've finally accepted me.

I press my lips to your forehead, leaving a lingering kiss that I feel you need as much as I. I sigh, granting you another smile before standing to my feet.

"Now go get cleaned up." I walk toward the door once more. This time, you do not stop me. I glance over my shoulder before leaving the room. "I want to show you around."

~

Wanda gives you a small tour of her home. It's bigger than your own, but it still looks cozy and lived in.

The experience is so surreal. She smiles at you, holds your hand, tells you anything you need to know so you're not blindsided. She tells you which rooms are where, where to find this and that and those, what to do if x, y, and z, and about the fact that she is a powerful witch who has the whole place spell protected so no one could ever dare threaten to harm either of you—which means you likely couldn’t escape if you tried (and even if you did, she would be able to find you). She would always be able to find you.

The clothes she had laid out for you were new but it fit to a T. It would have been enduring, had it not been so creepy due to the whole fact that you've been kidnapped by this deranged woman.

"If you need anything," Wanda smiles, turning toward you in the hall, "you are more than welcome to ask." She sighs and sets her hand on your cheek. "I'll be right back."

Then she's walking away, descending down the hall and leaving you alone in this unfamiliar place.

You watch her leave, still not coming to full terms that this would be your life now. What was even going on? It didn't make sense.

Wanda is sweet and gentle. She's kind and thoughtful and loves complimenting you. But now you're a prisoner in her house, stuck here because she thinks you need her.

Nothing made sense.

You glance around the hall, spotting a few paintings and pictures and nothing much else—although some of them look eerily similar to the ones in your own home.

Then you see a door. It looks plain and unimportant, but you're curious. It's probably just a broom closet—but it might not hurt to look.

You place a trembling hand on the knob, turning it slowly before pushing it open with a tiny creak.

This isn't a broom closet.

As the door opens, you're met with an unexpected scene. It’s a small space—bigger than a closet but barely a room—but it’s filled to the brim with possessions and items that have only one thing in common: you.

Covering every inch of this space were pictures of you, trinkets belonging to you, clothes, recipes, books, movies, candles—you are overwhelmed by the amount of things here that are associated with you. Your wide eyes stare and stare at everything in this room. Reaching a shaking hand out, your fingers brush a photo pinned to the wall of you at a strange angle, just walking down the street on your way home from work. Next to it, there’s another picture of you talking with a tiny group of friends when you’d gone to a birthday party. Another is a photo of you behind the counter at the café handing a coffee to a customer, a large and unsuspecting grin on your face. They’re all taken from angles that only supported your worry: that Wanda is even more deranged than you assumed, she was stalking you.

From photos of you at the café, at the library, at home on the phone or on the tiny sofa in the living room or in your fucking bed with your hand between your legs. Your face pales, your fingers twitch, frightened tears sting at your eyes. You were never alone. She was always there.

She was always watching you.

Ice shocks your skin at this realization, and you stare in horror at what you’ve found. What were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to respond? Why are you even here? Why has she done anything of this? Why you?

The ice is replaced with fire. You tense as heat burns at your back, at the base of your skull, rushing through your spine and making you tremble as you feel it—her gaze, her red-hot gaze surveillancing you as it always has.

You don’t turn around, shocked still as you stand like a frozen relic of the past. When you feel her hand rest on your shoulder, you close your eyes and try not to startle as you catch your breath and ease your tears before she sees you like this. You feel her move closer to you, stepping right behind you as her face inches closer to your own. Her breath fans over your skin, her lips right next to your ear and her smile clear in her voice as she whispers, “Do you like it?”

You swallow hard, inhaling a trembling breath as your legs threaten to give out at the cutting edge of your terror. As calmly as you can, you breathe out your response, quiet and rushed. “Yeah.”

Wanda’s lips curl at your ear and she fights her urge to take your soft lobe between her teeth. “Good,” she responds, proud of her good work here. Taking in a breath far steadier than her own, she wraps her arms around your body until they’re circled around your waist, pulling you in with a tiny giggle. Your body stiffens and you swallow your urge to fight her, anxious and trembling.

“Come on,” she chirps, “I have something to show you.”

She pulls you from the room, closing the door securely behind her before unraveling herself from you and taking your hand to guide you with her. She takes you through the house where you pass doors she’s shown to you and a couple others she didn’t mention. She brings you to stand in front of one, letting you go and standing next to the door with a grin.

Wanda’s calculating eyes watch you as she crosses her arms over her chest. She tilts her head toward the door, inviting you to open it with a burning excitement behind her eyes. You carefully reach out, setting your fingers on the chilly handle before allowing yourself to twist it open.

When you open the door, you do not expect to be greeted with a grand library. The room is bigger on the inside, likely bigger than the size of the house she had stolen you from. It’s huge, each bookshelf stocked to the brim with books you have read, would read, and wouldn’t even know existed if they had not been shown to you now.

Wanda walks in behind you, a face-splitting grin painting her face as she looks around with you, watching you stare in unexpected awe at the sight before you. When she takes your hand, you’re stiff again, but you don’t think she notices much (or maybe she simply dismisses it entirely as irrelevant). “I know you like reading,” she says. “So do I.” She gestures toward the library, taking a step forward to encourage you to look around.

You swallow hard, thinking carefully about every word that ever leaves your lips around her. “I don’t read…this much.”

Her smile widens, unbelievably proud of herself. “Now you can,” she says. When she leans into your ear again, you do startle this time as she whispers a few words that chill you to the bone: “You’ve got nothing but time.”

~

As the sun finally sets, you and I sit in the kitchen. The steam bellowing off of your plate is slowly becoming thinner and thinner as the heat leaves your untouched food. You sit and stare at it, your face fallen as you frown.

I watch you sit there, my head tilted and my brows furrowed in concern. I set down my fork and extend my hand toward you across the table. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

You glance at me for half a second, but you don't respond for much longer. When you do, it's in a low, monotonous voice that does nothing to convince me of your well-being. "Nothing."

I sigh, trying to reach out again, though your hands are hidden under the table and away from my view. "Come on," I mutter, offering a gentle smile to ease her nerves. "You can talk to me. Anything you want, I'll give it to you."

You finally allow your eyes to meet mine, though yours are pleading and scared and a concoction of anxiety to my steady gaze.

"I want to go ho–"

Don't say it.

You cut off, catching yourself before you can make the mistake of doubting me again as my eyes pierce through you with an intensity I do not intend. I watch you shift, closing your eyes and taking in a steady enough breath before rephrasing your unreasonable demand.

"I want to go back to my old house."

I sigh, pulling my hand back and lifting my fork once more, shifting food around my plate. "Except that." How I wish you would ask me for anything else, something I could safely give you. I want to spoil you, I want to give you anything you want, but such a request that could risk me losing you after I only just got you? How could I ever allow that?

You huff out a breath, one that shakes at the end like the beginning of a sob. "Why can't I leave?" you ask, helplessness clear in your voice. My heart aches and I want to hold you, but something cold and dirty in me tells me that you would not let me. "Am I your prisoner now?"

I shake my head, dropping my fork with a clatter as I move to dismiss such hateful thoughts. "You're not my prisoner, or my hostage, or whatever word you would use to describe yourself like that," I assure her, finally just shoving my plate away in favor of reaching out toward her. My magic surrounds her hands in red fog before pulling them into my sight over the table. From there, I simply hold your hands in mind and stroke my thumbs over your palms. You stiffen at my touch and my heart crumbles.

She just hasn't settled yet, I must remind myself.

I sigh and turn my gaze toward you again, my pleading eyes mirroring your own. "I'm… I'm scared that if I let you go back…" I close my eyes, breathing once more before I continue, "you'll run away from me, and…and I'll never see you again."

Being this vulnerable so soon feels wrong… I'm supposed to protect you. How are you supposed to trust me to protect you if I admit such fears to you so meekly?

You stare at me for a moment in silence and consideration before your lips press in a fine line and you straighten your spine again, shaking your head as your eyes well with tears and you pull your hands away. The slip of your touch against mine has a variety of emotions swelling in my chest, none of them good.

"So is this going to be like the book?" You demand, recalling the one I had suggested to you before, the one you'd finished within less than a week and had been all too eager to share your experience with. "Do I do whatever you want?" There's a pause. "You gonna make me sleep with you?"

I shake my head and scoff. "Of course not," I insist. I lean back in my seat, shrugging a little as I glance at you with a ghost of a smile at the ideas flooding my brain. "But, eventually… you'll crave that just as much as I do."

You shake your head furiously, though you look more like you're denying a truth than you do turning down a ridiculous offer. "I won't," you say, convincing yourself. "I really won't."

I look at you through my lashes, and the smile on my face looks sinister for a half a second as the images of your naked body arching into mine flash behind my eyes.

"You will."

You shudder, but you try not to make it obvious.

Shaking off the goosebumps, you begin again in another attempt at denying my love for you. "What about the title, hm?" you ask. "Tell Me to Stop."

You reach across the table and take my hands. My fingers twitch, aching to grab you and pull you close. Your eyes plead to me, begging me to heed your senseless words.

But still… the gleam in your eyes threatens to break my resolve.

"Stop, Wanda," you whimper. "Just stop, let me go."

I let one of your soft hands go, raising my palm to your cheek and sighing as you lean into it, your eyes closing gently. I shake my head and you let out a helpless breath. "No," I whisper. "No, not yet."

You pull away from me and my shoulders sag. I'm shaking my head quickly now, trying to make you understand and frustrated that you don't. "You don't know how good I am," I whisper, my voice breaking when a tear slips down your cheek. "You don't know how good we could be together."

You wipe your face. "This is sick, Wanda."

"No, it's not," I smile. "Maybe it's a little…unorthodox, but this is love."

Your entire face shifts, almost horrified. Why are you still afraid of me? "Love?" you pale, leaning back again.

I smile, nodding as I reach out to her. "I love you, my zajacik."

The confession flies from my lips, rushing out of me quicker than I can even stop to think about how much I love you. My perfect, perfect girl.

But you shake your head and my smile shakes. "You don't know me." You stand to put more distance between us. I do not follow, though I know you will not make me.

"Yes, I do." I state it as a fact, tilting my head slowly as my gaze never falters from your own. "I know everything about you."

You hold your breath, anticipating.

"You're an only child. Your mother died when you were ten, your father raised you until you moved out here for college. You have a good relationship with him, but you're not immediately close—mostly because of how long you have been separated from each other. You love romance novels that border on thrillers, you have a handful of friends who you hardly ever hang out with because they make you feel like you have to compete to stay important. When you were sixteen, you had a dog named Rango after that chameleon from Rango. You got your first job when you were seventeen, and–"

"Okay."

I stop. You stare at your feet, unmoving as we both just breathe. I stand and walk over to you, slowly and silently. When I step in front of you, I take one hand in mine and set the other on your cheek, lifting your face to look at me. You don't fight me, and I smile.

"You'll see, baby," I whisper. "You need me. You don't know it yet, but you do." You stare at me, searching my eyes for something as your own well with another set of tears. I wipe them away briefly before pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Just let me show you how great we are. Okay?"

You don't respond. You just stare at me, your beautiful, glittering eyes watching me. I brush my thumb over the apple of your cheek and sigh gently. I squeeze your hand once, "I am going to take that as yes," I smile. I linger there for a moment, enjoying our closeness before I pull away and lead you back to the table. I lower you into your seat and set my hands on your shoulders, leaning forward to set my chin in the crook of your neck.

"Finish your food," I say. "You're probably exhausted."

I tilt my face and press a kiss against your neck. Your shoulder closes at the contact, flinching away from my affection because of the unfamiliarity.

Another reason you need me: affection. It's not often you receive it, and no one could ever give affection to you the way I could.

I take my plate back into the kitchen to leave you to eat while I clean. By the time I finish, so have you. So I wash your plate and lead you to the bathroom to shower before bed. You take a while, probably just standing under the water to enjoy the heat, to savor the tension leaving your body.

When you come out, you're wearing the clothes I gave you, and you look so pretty in them. I beckon you with open arms to the bed, and you hesitate for a moment before finally walking over. You just stand there as I wrap my arms around you, submitting to me and my embrace as I hold you for a moment, just a moment to really appreciate the fact that I have you now. I have you all to myself, and there is no power on this Earth that could tear you away from me.

~

The only light in the room is whatever slips through the blinds from the gleaming moon outside. By now, your eyes have adjusted to the lack of light as you lay in bed, covers pulled up to your chin to wrap you in warmth.

But it isn't the only thing wrapped around you.

Wanda lays at your back, sleeping peacefully as her steady breaths ease in and out of her, lifting her chest in a gentle rhythm. You have it memorized at this point, breathe in…and out, in…and out, in…out.

Her arms are secure around your midsection, and sometimes her fingers twitch against you. Sometime in her sleep, her hand had wandered underneath your shirt, splayed across the expanse of your belly. She keeps you in place, and you dare not squirm in fear of disturbing her as she slumbers on without you.

You're definitely not asleep. It's your first night here—your first night knowing you were here at least—and the day you'd just had, all the emotions that had run through you were swarming in your belly and making you uneasy.

But that isn't really why you aren't asleep.

You're afraid to sleep, but not because you feel she may do something to you while you aren't aware of what it was. You know—deep down, you know—that Wanda would never hurt you on purpose. You're afraid to sleep because of what that might mean.

You're forcing yourself to stay awake because the feel of her body against yours is one of the best feelings you've experienced in a very long time. You feel safe and secure, you feel at ease with the thought of someone wanting you. You want to be here, you want to be wrapped up in her, with her gentle breaths on your shoulder and her hand on your belly.

And you're terrified because that means you're probably just as messed up as she is to feel so safe with a person who stole you in the night to keep you captive in her own home, separated from anyone and anything that was not her. What if you are twisted because she's making you feel so secure?

You want to go home.

But this is your home.

And you are twisted because you want to be here.

And you have already given in to the temptations of sleep as Wanda's fingers stroke the skin of your belly in her sleep.

~

That day was the last day we fought.

The weeks that follow run as smoothly as silk. You…cooperate. From sunup to sundown, you allow me to take care of you—to cook for you, clean for you, read with you, spoil you rotten with gifts and praises to make you feel better. There's never a day that passes that I don't shower you with compliments, there's never a moment that I ever have to raise my voice or convince you that I love you.

It's like you've submitted to me.

You're not as lively as you were before, however, the light in your eyes is not as bright as it was. You move and speak like you're on autopilot. You say please and thank you, you do whatever I ask of you whenever I ask it, you smile when you think it's appropriate to smile, and you don't oppose me.

You just obey.

Part of me wants to fix it. This isn't the you I've come to know and love: something is different. I miss your real smile, your contagious joy, your bubbly giggles. You've been holding back from me. But I have to keep reminding myself that you're adjusting. It takes time, but you'll come around.

Slowly, we'll return to normal. Slowly, you'll feel my love just as much as you've accepted it now. Slowly, I will feel your love. We can be happy. We will be happy.

And today feels like the start of it all.

"Happy birthday, my zajačik," I smile as I step into our bedroom, a cupcake in hand with the tiny candle flickering away.

There's something different in your eyes as I slowly approach you, the smile on my face spreading over your lips with half as much joy as my own. But it's a smile, a genuine smile, and I'd do anything to keep that happiness in your eyes.

"How did you kno–" You stop yourself, mentally kicking yourself as you remember that little thing about me. You just nod once, your smile becomes a little smaller. "Right."

I sit on the bed next to you, handing the cupcake over for you to cradle in your hands. "Come on, make a wish," I gently encourage, "before the wax gets on the icing."

You stare at the candle for a moment, forming your desire in your mind before you lean forward and blow out the small flame with a single little breath.

I smile, "What did you wish for?"

You shrug a shoulder, still smiling at me with a tiny grin that still holds some truth to it. "If I tell you, it won't come true."

I chuckle, scooting a little closer until our shoulders touch. "You know… I could always just read your mind."

You become slightly playful, that glint of mischief in your eyes that I have missed. "Would you deny me my wishes?"

A slightly solemnity strikes your eyes again at your words, but you cover it well. You just keep smiling, and I hopelessly watch the truth slip from your gaze. "You got me," I answer.

Then a sigh passes my lips and I flick my wrist as your present appears in my hands. "I got you a birthday gift." I present it to you.

"Oh, yeah?" You take it, looking over the red wrapping paper with a curious glance. Some of the joy has returned, albeit only a little at the prospect that I was so thoughtful as to get you a gift and make cupcakes.

"Yep," I nod once. "Open it."

You hesitate a moment before your fingernails dig into the wrapping paper and tear it away to reveal a small box. You remove the lid and hold your breath as you stare at the pendent laying inside. It's gold with a dainty chain and a small medallion of my own making. You set it in the palm of your hand and brush your fingers over the front to feel the textures. When you flip it over, I watch you pause to read what is engraved on the back.

"What does it mean?" you ask suddenly, your voice nearly a whisper.

"What does what mean?"

"That thing you keep calling me," you answer, attempting it yourself in a whisper, probably afraid you'll say it wrong.

I smile, chuckling a little to myself at how adorable you are. "Zajačik? It means 'bunny'."

"Oh."

"What did you think it meant?" I wonder as I tilt my head.

You shrug, looking at me again as you carefully pass it to me, turning your back to me and pulling your hair out of the way so that I could fasten it around your neck. My heart swells in my chest, warmed by the thought of you wishing to wear my gift to you.

"I dunno," you say. "That's why I asked."

I clasp the necklace and set it down at the back of your neck, smoothing my hands over your shoulder before setting your hair back into place.

You pick up the necklace and stare at it once more, biting your lip in thought. Then you're speaking again, at first to yourself. "Do you think…"

You stop yourself, but I place my hand on your shoulder and lean closer. "What is it?"

You look at me, still chewing on your bottom lip. "Do you think I could…call my dad today?"

I hesitate a moment, thinking of everything that could go wrong. I should say no. I should tell you that it could risk everything or that you don't need to because you got me—anything to dissuade you from having a chance to leave me.

But the look in your eyes makes me weak and reminds me that I would do anything for you. I sigh and allow myself to smile, reassuring myself that everything would be okay. "Sure," I nod slowly. "Call it another present."

The joy that lights up on your face is worth it.

You smile wide, you even launch yourself forward and wrap your arms around me. I'm surprised at first—you hadn't been so readily affectionate until now—and it should be a sign… but all I can do is hug you back, pull you into my body, and nuzzle my face into your hair at the warmth of your amazing hugs.

I could do this more often.

"Thank you, Wanda," you whisper, oh-so genuine and heartwarming.

I smile. I love you.

"Of course, my beautiful girl," I whisper into your hairline.

You pull away enough to look at me, your eyes big with a silent plea. "Your beautiful…bunny?"

I could cry from how much I adore you. I want to scoop you up into my arms and smother you in kisses.

"Môj krásny zajačik."

~

The call lasts a little longer than I thought it would. Listening in, I can hear your light laugh, your gentle words. You seem to be enjoying yourself.

The rest of the day moves softly, a gentle transition from the bedroom to the library. You're curled against the couch, a pillow and book in your lap as you read your book.

If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio. You'd been reading it over the past few days, and you've been invested since you began. It is part of the new collection of books I'd just brought into the library.

"How's your day going?" I question gently as I walk up to you.

You look up, offering a small smile as you nod. You'd become comfortable recently, adjusting to everything now that you've been here long enough. "It's good," you reply warmly.

I sit next to you. "Are you terribly lonely from the lack of participants?" I chuckle lightly, covering the concern within me that it'll be true.

But you shake your head. "No, I…" you sigh, shrugging a little before looking at me. "I didn't grow up with siblings. My birthday was usually just me and my dad. As I got older, I'd go out with a couple friends, but that was it." You take in a slow breath, "This is…cozy."

My worries are put at ease. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

You close your book, setting it to the side to pull the pillow to your chest, your feet pulled under you. "I've been thinking," you mumble. "You know…way more about me than I know about you."

I laugh to myself, licking my lips. "Well, what do you want to know? I'll tell you anything."

You think for a moment before shrugging. "Do you have siblings?"

My smile falters, and I blink too many times as my frown settles over my lips. The tears sting behind my eyes quicker than I can realize them, but I don't let them fall as I just glance down at my hands.

"I had a brother."

You hesitate for a moment, your curious smile gone as well as you go quiet. "Had?"

I glance at you, but I find it hard to keep your gaze as you stare back at me, bewildered. "He died," I confess, before my expression sours, bitterness nipping at my next words, "or… he was killed."

You swallow hard, holding the pillow closer. "I'm sorry," you whisper.

"Don't be," I sigh and look at you again. "His name was Pietro." My voice slips then as I speak his name for the first time in a long time. "He was…" a tiny chuckle rocks through me, and I shake my head, "he was twelve minutes older than me, we were twins."

You turn away for a moment, running a hand along the side of your face and nuzzling your mouth into your palm. When you look back at me, your expression is soft. "When did he die?"

"A few years ago. We got mixed up in the wrong crowd… we got out, but not for long. He was the one who paid the price." I take in another breath, readjusting myself as I clear my throat to keep going, ignoring the ache in my throat and the sting in my eyes. "We were orphaned at ten, so we were all each other had. And he was taken from me, just like our parents."

You wipe your eyes, sniffling gently. "I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice breaking.

I turn to you, taking your face in my hands. "It's okay," I try to smile, to reassure you. I swipe my thumbs under your eyes to slow your tears. The look in my eyes shifts ever-so-slightly, and you stop breathing for a moment. My voice is slow, hitting every word to ensure you hear what I'm saying. "Because no one will ever be taken from me again."

You're stiff as a board as you stare at me, but you don't fight me, you don't betray any fear, you just watch. "Is that why I'm here?"

I sigh and close my eyes, shaking my head. I lick my lips. "You're here because I love you. And you're mine. And I'm yours," I reassure you. "I will always protect you, my zajačik."

You don't speak. I stare at you, and the anxiety of the alternative to this moment rolls in my chest and captures my throat. I try to swallow the lump away, to be rid of my tears and let us enjoy the rest of this moment, but the tears spill and my lip trembles. I can't keep it away anymore as I set my hands on your shoulders and hold you.

"Please don't leave me."

A hiccup startles my chest as I duck my head. You surprise me. You lean into me and rest your head against my chest, and your arms come to wrap around my waist.

I pull you into me, wrapping you in a hug as I hold you. You allow me to cry into your shoulder, rocking me gently to offer your comfort.

Something in me is put at ease, that writhing feeling often curled in my chest calmed and reduced to a dull churn. A trembling breath passes out of me.

"I love you," I whisper to you.

Your hand rubs my back for a moment and you nod.

"I know."

~

Wanda is gone today, off running some errand. You were watching the news—nothing else was on—and it was really just all things terrible. There was a robbery at the bank, an accident somewhere downtown, an entire building burnt to the ground and a lot of people were hurt, some died.

You turned it off before long.

Then you were walking through the house in search of something to do, and that's when you passed by the room from your first day.

You push the door open, once again met with the shrine painted with your life. You just sit there, looking around at everything around you.

There's so much here you recognize. Your favorite hoodie that you'd lost is neatly folded in a small stack of clothes she'd smuggled. You would put it on, but you don't want to take it from her.

The pictures pinned to the bulletboard are like little memories. Some of them, you couldn't recall the day, date, or relative month. Others, you could pinpoint time of and recall each event that preceded and followed it.

You recognize your dolphin figurine, and you pick it up to see the little note on the bottom reading "demon". When you set it back in place, you notice the delicate fabric it was perched on.

You take it in your hands and quickly realize what it is: a pair of panties, pink with a tiny bow on the front. You should be scared, you should be absolutely freaked out, but you aren't, and you can't be. You smooth the fabric on your hands and a quick thought flashes behind your eyes about "at least this one is clean".

You fold it again and return it to its rightful place. There's so much here, a story of the life you lead that makes you realize just how lonely you really are.

But you were never alone—and you're not alone now.

She was always there. Whether you knew it or not, she was there. She loved you on your way to the library to return a stack of books. She loved you at work, serving rude customers and having shitty days. She loved you on nights when you're left to your own devices with your hands between your legs and your back arched into your pillows.

Every chilling photo, every stolen relic, every folded pair of clothes or underwear is laid out and idolized by this woman. A woman who loves you. A woman who adores you.

She thinks you're beautiful, and you think that's beautiful. She cherishes every good or bad memory, she worships every little breath, every tear, every laugh. She fucking loves you.

And you were ungrateful.

All the crap on the news, everything going wrong, you could have been caught up in that at any moment. You could have been back at the café, hiding behind the counter from some thief trying to rob the shop. You could have been trapped in a burning building or hit in an accident. You could have been hurt, killed at any moment and your left would end right there. No apologies, no warnings, just done.

But you aren't done. You're here, being protected by Wanda, who loves you and wants to keep you safe. All she's wanted to do was keep you safe, prove to you that she loves you, prove that she cares.

And you've just pushed her away.

You fought and you argued that first day. You called her sick, you called her crazy. She fed you, housed you, protected you, assured you that you were loved and wanted. And you tried to push her away, rejecting her by closing yourself off to her love.

How could you do that to her?

She has no one. Her family is gone, she lives in her home alone. She's been so alone for so long, and you are the only thing she cares about now. What kind of person rejects someone like that?

Your chest aches as the realization crashes down on you. Your breath trembles as you shake your head. What kind of person are you to deny her, someone as kind and as caring as her?

But she loves you—she loves you so much—and you need to show her that it isn't for nothing. You need to show her that you're grateful, that you care about her. You need to show her that you won't desert her because she needs you, and you need her.

~

I open the door to our home, immediately stopping as the savory scent of a meal in the air fills my nose. I furrow my brow, my lips tugging in a little grin as I step further into the house. I walk along the tiny hall to the living room, laying eyes on your back through the arch view in the wall displaying the kitchen.

"What's all this?" I ask as I step past the threshold, walking into the kitchen where you're working. You look over your shoulder at me, and your smile is wide, the sparkle in your eyes I have not seen in a while shining at me in a more open display. You really have been holding back from me.

"I wanted to cook for you," you say, stirring the pot for a moment before setting the wooden spoon down and running your hands down my apron on your body. You walk over to me and take my hands, squeezing them gently before leaning forward and touching your cheek to mine. It was so fluid, like we'd had this set in a routine. I do not shy away from it.

"Why?" I chuckle lightly, a little confused by the sudden change, however welcome it is.

"Well," you shrug your shoulders, pulling your hands back to your sides. "You've been cooking so much for me, and I used to be so ungrateful for it…" Your expression shifts, replaced with that same look as before—only, now it seems to hold a little more regret than it had been. Poor thing.

You shake your head, your face unburdening again as you look at me with an apologetic grin. "I wanted to finally return the favor. I've got your favorite." You take a step to the side and motion to the pot of goulash stew, hot and bubbling and absolutely mouthwatering.

My heart warms at the sight as I look back at you. Your smile looks nearly triumphant now at having gained such a reaction from me. "How did you know this was my favorite?" I wonder, reaching forward to grab your hands again.

You smirk mischievously. "You're not the only one who does her research." I can't help my chuckle at that, your light-heartedness rubbing off on me. You let go of me, clapping your hands together to dust them off before shuffling behind me. You press your hands into my shoulder blades, guiding me out of the kitchen and into the living room. "Why don't you sit? I'm almost finished."

I laugh to myself, giddy with my love for you. "Okay."

This is the happiest I've seen you in the weeks that you've been here. I'd been slowly regaining more and more of the old you over the course of our time together, but today was such a huge flip. What's changed?

Was it my opening up to you about my family on your birthday? Was it the gift I'd given you? The phone call to your father?

What could possibly have happened to speed along this process, to make you care so openly for me again?

Whatever it was, I find myself thinking about how happy I am that it happened. To see you smile so much fills my heart, reducing me to a pile of satisfaction.

Finally, I've got my girl back.

~

"I've been thinking," you say suddenly, setting your spoon down. You reach across the table and, taking one of my hands in yours, you graze your thumb over my knuckles as you look at me.

"About?" I inquire, setting my own spoon down to do the same to you. We're connected across the table, and there's far too much space between us, even with our hands joined as they are.

You breathe in slowly, thinking before you answer me. "About you and me–us," you smile, glancing up and down between me and your bowl with a shyness I can't help but fawn over. "I decided, you're right."

Finally.

"About?" I chuckle gently.

"About…" you sigh, "about how good we are together."

"Oh?" My thumb swipes along your knuckles, and you shift your gaze to watch it. You pull your lip between your teeth for just a moment, as if it is something meant to go unnoticed by me.

But it doesn't, because you don't.

"Yeah…" You're looking at me again, though your mind looks like it's lost to something else. I tilt my head to draw your attention again, but you just smile gently as you continue to allow yourself to be distracted by something. A simple glance into your mind, just one little peek and I could see what it is that has your mind so preoccupied. But before I could do such a thing, you're speaking again, so fondly, so gently.

"I…I like when you take care of me. You know just what to say and what to do," you shake your head, struggling to come up with the right words to describe what you're thinking. One glimpse and I could see it all. Just one–

"You're so…good."

Good.

I'm so good.

Now you see, you understand. After all this time, the plotting, planning, waiting—the waiting. After everything, it finally paid off. It was worth it all to see you finally realizing just how perfect we really are, how much better we can be still.

I smile, it's a large smile that makes your own spread along your pretty lips. Oh, my lovely.

"The stew is amazing," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

You breathe gently, clinging to my gratification like cellophane. You glance down at our hands, a poor attempt to hide your beautiful smile. "Thank you."

I reach out and brush my finger under your chin, tilting your head up. You gaze into my eyes, your own sparkling with the adoration I had been dreaming of seeing reflected into my eyes.

"And so are you," I promise, brushing my knuckles up to the apple of your cheek, which darkens under my touch as you try to hide the blush that has spread over your skin.

~

That isn't to say I do not still have my doubts.

A couple of days have passed by us since you confessed how much you enjoy my presence in your life, and things have shifted (for the better). We spend a lot of time together, mostly in the library, even if not to read. Sometimes it’s like a game of Hide and Seek, where you rush around the shelves and I come after you like some predator out for blood. Other times, it’s just you and I on a sofa together with a book in our laps as we read silently, letting the time tick by. You sit a little closer, a little more relaxed. You’re far more at ease than you’d ever been since you arrived.

But sometimes…it feels like it was too easy.

Were you actually happy here, or were you playing along to make the passage of time a little easier? I want to believe you want this just as much as I do, but it’s hard to put my worries to rest when I look at you and see a woman meant to stay in my dreams. I feel like there’s the slightest possibility that, maybe, I’m messing with a fate that even I should not try to reckon with.

I just want you to be happy—and I want to be happy. Don’t I deserve happiness? After everything I’ve lost, don’t I deserve to have something so precious to me that I can keep, forever? What is so wrong about that?

But I do not want to keep a bird caged if she longs for the skies. How would I be able to live with myself if I destroyed your life for the sake of my own?

“Do you like it here?” The question is blurted over the silence of the library as I stand between two tall shelves. You look up suddenly from the sofa, tilting your head as you tear your focus away from your book.

“Hm?” you mumble.

I clear my throat in an attempt to gather myself, bringing my hands together to twiddle my fingers to try and ease the nerves playing in the back of my brain and clawing its way to the surface. “Do you like being here?”

“I…” you hesitate at first, and I hold my breath. You close the pages and set it aside to give me your full attention, furrowing your brow to think. You speak slowly to clearly articulate your words, “I didn’t at first. I felt trapped.” My heart aches, and I want to drop to my knees and cry. But then you look at me with those wide eyes, pupils blown with adoration and care. “But now…” you smile delicately, “now I don’t know if I could leave.” You shake your head, rephrasing your words to more accurately state, “I don’t know if I could leave you.”

I was so close to shattering, and with a few words, you’re holding together the pieces again. “Really? Because…” I clear my throat, “if you wanted to…to go—if you still want to go, I’ll let you.” I have to force the words out in a rush, lest they never see the light of day. I don’t want you to go, I don’t want you to leave me here all by myself, but I can’t trap you more than I already have.

You stare at me for a long time, and I watch the layers peel back into something so small and vulnerable. “I can’t leave you,” you whisper, your voice breaking with another confession. You shake your head, slowly standing to your feet to be closer to me. You speak so quickly, just as nerve-wrecked as me now. “You take such good care of me. You’re so kind and–and gentle. You’ve never done anything to actually hurt me. You keep me safe and…and you love me.” Tears begin to gather in your eyes, and I want to take you in my arms and hold you. Don’t cry, darling.

You shake your head and sniffle, “I’ve never had anyone love me the way you do. You helped me see. I need that—I need you.” Your lip curls and trembles, and you move closer to me as the tears fall. You reach forward and take my hand. Unexpectedly, you fall to your knees and bow your head to me as though I am royalty, keeping my hand in a desperate hold. “Please don’t make me leave.”

I melt and I fall to my knees, joining you on the floor as I set my hands on your face, lifting you to see mine again as I gaze into your tear-filled eyes. My eyes are just as wet as yours, though the tears had not fallen until now as I smile through it all. “I would never make you do anything,” I promise, shaking my head and swallowing hard. “Especially not that.”

You drop your head onto my shoulder, nuzzling into my neck in search of comfort as you smile and reassure yourself with my words. Your hands hold onto me as I keep you close. And then you’re whispering in my ear, “Can you say it again?”

“Say what?” I ask, rocking the both of us gently as the tears slow and the swells in our hearts grow.

“That you…” you sniffle, “that you love me?”

I smile wide, wiping my face. “Môj krásny zajačik,” I rasp into your ear. “I love you. I love you. I love you so much, you have no idea what limits I’d go to prove that to you.”

Your breath catches as you struggle to control yourself, another round of sobs forcing its way from your body as you pull me closer. “I love you more than the earth. I love you more than all the life on it. I love you more than the very air we breathe. I would sacrifice everything for you.”

“I love you, too.”

I pause, stilling completely as your words wash over me like scorching water. “What?” I whisper breathlessly.

You pull away from me just enough to take my face in your own hands. Your face is tear-stained, but you smile at me like I am the universe. “I love you, too,” I confess again, stroking your thumbs over the apple of my cheeks. “I’m so sorry it took so long for me to see.”

Our foreheads press together for a long moment as we enjoy each other’s closeness. You shudder and I hear a tiny hiccup. “It’s okay—hey, it’s okay. It’s you and me,” I whisper, stroking my hand through your hair and soothing you with shushes and promises and little rubs of my hand along your back. I smile, making you look at my face to show that there is no lie in what I’m about to tell you.

“We’ll never be alone again.”

You stare at me, a slow grin beginning to spread over your lips as you take my words to heart. My perfect, special, darling little zajačik. I wipe your tears away and bring the both of us to stand. I kiss your forehead. My lips tingle with the contact of your skin, and I wonder if you can feel it, too.

“Come,” I bid softly. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

~

You look so peaceful.

The moonlight shining down on your face casts you in a gentle gleam that makes you look like a mythical creature.

Perhaps you are a siren: meant to lure me with your sweet song, only to drag me down, down, down to the deepest depths of the ocean where I would breathe my last breath and make you the last thing I see before death took me.

Or perhaps you are an angel: beautiful and powerful but capable of merciless blows that I could never withstand, yearning to redeem my soul but more than willing to damn it to Hell instead.

Whichever you are, you're enchanting.

Standing at the end of the bed, I watch as you rest. There's no worry in your face, no fear or shame, nor care or desire. Just…peaceful. Your breaths are slow and paced, allowing your chest to rise and fall in a steady motion. There's no other sound that comes from you, and no other sound outside of this room to disturb that.

Until that changes with the tiniest hum.

I tilt my head as I watch, listening closely for the next little whimper to escape from your lips as you shift in the covers, your limbs tangled in the sheets and spreading you wide. It's like you're begging for me to do something to you, to take you where you lie and claim you as mine forever.

Just one glimpse into your mind, and I would see everything. I would see what you're dreaming about to make you react in such a way. I could see–

Me.

My body and yours, grinding and moaning and begging for the other's touch. It's passion and lust, blood and sweat, whispers and screams.

I gasp as my mind retreats from your own, and I'm hot all over just recalling what your filthy mind has drawn up.

If you wanted me so badly, all you had to do was ask.

You are already spread wide for me, so all I have to do is crawl into bed, my body towering over yours. I brush some hair off your forehead, tucking it behind your ear as I lean down and nuzzle my face into your neck. I inhale your scent, sweet and light, intoxicating.

Your breath hitches when my knee rises up to meet the dip of your thighs, pressing into your heat. My hand smooths down your side before dipping under your shirt and grazing the bare skin there. I tiny whimper slips through your lips, and I moan with you. Your soft skin under my touch is maddening.

I take the skin of your neck between my lips, kissing you, touching you, embedding my love into your flesh. My lips trace you all the way down until I reach your cute little shorts, pinching the waistband between my fingers and pulling them down your legs slowly, careful not to disturb your slumber.

I stare at your panties, my fingers whispering at the band of the fabric. I dip down, closing my eyes as my lips brush against you. Again, I take a deep breath and your scent swirls around my senses and makes me weak. My tongue darts out and licks a long strip up your clothed pussy, tasting your sweetness firsthand.

A moan hums out of me again as my lashes flutter, before I'm pulling your panties off and ravaging you. You're hot and sweet and a taste that coats my tongue in love. You writhe beneath me, moaning and grinding your hips to seek me out.

I grasp your hips to keep you still, dipping my tongue into your hole, pressing the tip of it into your clit. Your breaths become faster, louder, until your whimpers are desperate moans.

When the sounds stop and your body stills, I look up at you to see what has changed. You stare back at me, your eyes wide and your face flushed. "Wanda?" you breathe.

I suck on your clit and your body kickstarts. Your shock and confusion is overwhelmed by the pleasure I send rushing through you. You try to stifle a moan as you grip at the sheets, but that just won't do. I wrap my arms around your thighs as they set over my shoulders. They push toward you when I reach up to your chest, my hands sliding under your shirt to feel your bare breasts as I squeeze them.

You gasp, your thighs tightening around me. "That's it," I whisper into you. "That's it, baby, let it out for me." A louder moan rises out of you, unrestricted by closed lips as your hands fly to my hair and pull.

"Wanda," you squeak. "Wanda, yes, I'm gonna cum!"

I moan into you, feeding off your pleasure as it rises within you. "Go ahead. Cum for me. Let it out for me."

Your body seizes and your jaw clenches as you curl into me. I take your hands, intertwining our fingers as you cum hard right onto my tongue as I suck and lick at your clit.

You curse loudly, holding tighter. "Wanda, fuck! Mmph, yes."

You grind against my face until you come down, easing from your high as you fall limp against the sheets. But I don't stop. My hands find your hole, pushing inside and feeling your heat around my fingers. You bite your lip hard, clenching down on me and letting out a strained whimper.

I give you no time to adjust, already chasing your next high as I pump my fingers in and out of you, creating a steady rhythm that has you bucking your hips into my hand. "That's it, baby," I coo. "Ride yourself on my hand."

You begin to chant my name alongside breathy moans as your pussy flutters around me. I curl my fingers in a come hither motion, pulling your hips further before pumping then faster. Your moans pick up, louder and higher. "I'm gonna cum, Wanda! You're gonna make me cum!" you exclaim, gripping the sheets so hard I hear a rip.

The tip of my tongue flicks your clit. "Already? Do I make you feel so good, my bunny?" I lick my lips, squeezing your upper thigh as my nails dig into your flesh.

You're a mess as you nod, forcing yourself to look at me. "Yes. Fuck, yes, make me feel so good."

A shudder rushes through my spine and a wicked smile spreads across my lips. I don't stop, even when I move up to loom over your body. My face is inches from yours, and you stare at me with wide, wet eyes. "If you want to cum this time," I whisper, "you're going to have to beg me for it."

You mewl, raising your hand to touch my side, eager to pull me closer. "Please, Wanda," you say quietly, barely a whisper as your shyness sinks into your skin.

But that just won't do.

"You can do better than that," I bid, grazing my lips along the shell of your ear. "Tell me how much you want it, and I'll give it to you."

You move your hand from my waist to my neck, slinging your arm around me to pull me closer. "Please, Wanda, can I cum?" you sigh breathlessly. "I need it so bad, please."

I hum, curling my fingers deep inside you. You whimper, tilting your head up. "I love it when you moan my name, zajačik."

I flick my wrist, and you gasp as I shower you in a mist of my magic. I circle my thumb on your clit, fast and rough as I attune quickly to your body. Your body writhes, legs twitching and fingers flexing. It's not long before you're squeezing my fingers, cumming hard with another desperate moan of my name.

Again, I don't stop, not for a moment. You moan and gasp through your release, you scream my name and grind on my hand, your hold onto me as you ride your high. I pump my fingers in and out, curling and spreading and stroking your pussy as my magic plays with your little clit, keeping you worked up to give you the pleasure you deserve.

You whine and you whine and you whine, and you don't stop as the pleasure keeps building. With my insistence, you don't get a chance to come down. Not when I make you cum a third time, or a fourth, or a fifth as tears build in your eyes and slip down your pretty cheeks, choked sobs tearing your throat with how good you feel—how good I make you feel.

"Wanda," you gasp. "I can't—I can't take it. 'S too much, I can't."

I flick my wrist again and increase your pleasure, pulling another choppy heave from your throat. "D'you want me to stop?" I question, my own breath much quicker as I watch you come undone over and over again. You've made a mess of me, and I haven't even been touched yet. My hips brush against your leg, eager for some sort of friction as I clench around nothing and my clit throbs, in need of attention.

You don't answer me, too busy with the intoxicating pleasure blinding you. I bend down to your ear, taking the soft lobe between my teeth. "Do you want me to stop?" My voice is rough in your ear, and it sends a tremble down your spine.

You finally answer me, shaking your head and fluttering around my fingers still shoved deep within you. "No," you whimper. "Please, don't stop."

I smile wickedly. "Good girl."

But, either way, I do stop. You mewl, your hands flying to your face to wipe the sweat and tears from your skin. I pull your hands away, cupping your chin with my crooked fingers to make you look at me.

I stroke your cheek. "You're so precious crying for me like this," I breathe, pressing my lips to your cheek. "Fuck, you look so perfect crying for me, my little bunny."

Your hands fly to my face, pulling me over so our foreheads touch as you stare at my lips. "Please kiss me, Wanda," you mumble, caressing the corner of my lips with your fingers.

I don't waste anymore time. I dip down and press my lips against yours in a rough kiss, finally tasting you properly after waiting for so long. You taste perfect. Like love and passion, all sweetness like honey and sugar. I'm quickly drunk on you, rejecting breath in favor of kissing you. I moan into your mouth, and you pull me closer, biting my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, which paints your lips red.

When I pull away from you, I'm messy and breathless, already aching to have more of you. "Fuck, I'm gonna make you feel so good, my little fuck bunny," I promise, a little whine to my voice.

I force myself to pull away from you, reaching under the bed to pull out a little box kept nice and safe there. I open it and pull out the little red toy you'd bought yourself, back before you were truly mine. It feels so long ago now.

I show it to you, take it between my hands, stroke it, make you blush adorably. "I saved it," I smile. Your breath hitches when I regain my place over you, one hand brushing your dripping cunt again to coat my fingers. I place my fingers in your mouth, pushing down on your tongue to make you suck on them. Your eyes flutter, tiny moans slipping past your lips, which have been wet and messy.

"I also made a little improvement," I breathe, flicking my wrist again. You watch the red tendrils of magic summon the strap-on I'd created just for us. Your eyes widen and you stop suckling on my fingers. Pushing down again on your tongue, you get back to work as you flush a darker red. The squelching of your tongue as I push my fingers back even further makes a dirty sound that has me moaning a little more.

You reach up to grab my wrist, keeping me where I am. Little indents of your nails in my flesh begin to dig in, and I smile at the sight. "Would you like me to use it?" I whisper into your ear. "Just nod for me." You nod your head, all too eager to be satisfied by me. "Good girl."

I toy with the hem of your shirt before I remove it from your body, finally leaving you bare to me. You're too distracted to be shy, otherwise I know you would try to shield yourself from me. I pull away from you, standing in front of the bed as I begin to strip myself of the constricting fabric still wrapped around my own body. They fall in a puddle to the floor, piece by piece, until I'm just as bare as you.

You stare at me, body limp and fucked out but not nearly fucked enough to deny the growing lust rising within you at the anticipation of the pleasure to come. The strap fits perfectly as I put it on, and you watch every move I make to do it.

I take hold of your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed as I wrap your legs around me. I bend over you, our faces hovering between one another with an intimacy unmatched by anything I'd ever experienced before.

"Are you ready, my little fuck bunny?" I rasp into your ear, my lips ghosting over your cheek. You nod, raising your arms to wrap around my neck.

I raise my hand next to your cheek, and you marvel at the way my fingers twirl around my red enchantment. Your breath hitches when it disappears. "What did you do?" you whisper.

I don't answer your question. Instead, I line the strap with your glistening cunt and push it through your folds, slowly filling your sweet little hole with the toy. Your head falls back and your eyes flutter shut as you feel the stretch of my cock inside of you.

My breath shudders as I push fully inside you, feeling the tightness of your cunt through the enchantment of my spell. You clench around me, losing your breath to take a moment to adjust. But I don't give you long.

Before you have time to get used to the size filling you up, I'm pulling out again to the very tip, forcing myself back into you with a guttural moan tearing from my throat. "Fuck," my voice is rough from the lust welling inside us. "Are you always so fucking tight, honey?"

You don't reply, preoccupied with your nails digging into my back. I don't mind—I crave it, want to feel your love tearing into my skin.

I chuckle a little, thrusting roughly into you again to pull another whimper from your preciously pathetic little throat. I shake my head, taking in a breath through my teeth as I stare at your face, screwed up in pleasure. "Of course you are. There's no one else to stretch you out. Perfect for me."

A whine draws from you and I can't help the bubbling giggle in my throat. "Wanda," you breathe. "Fuck, so big." You hum, biting your bottom lip as I push back inside again. "Please, please, Wanda. I need you," you mewl, holding me tighter.

"'Please, Wanda. I need you,'" I mock, pitching my voice and whining back at you with a little frown on my lips. You pull me in tighter, despite my taunting. "Look at you. Such a pathetic little whore for me, right, bunny?"

You nod, a meek little thing begging me to go faster. "Yes!" you breathe. "All for you."

I take one of my hands around your throat, holding you there as my teeth graze the skin of your collarbone. "You want more of me, pretty girl?"

You nod woefully, grinding your hips against me. "Yes, yes, yes," you whisper in a little chant made of a desperate plea.

I don't make you wait any longer. Gripping the headboard with one hand, I steady myself before I'm moving again. A shriek erupts from you when my hips snap into your own, shoving the cock inside of your tight pussy in an unrelenting rhythm.

Quick and hard, I build the pleasure within you as I thrust and thrust and thrust. I'm breathless as the shockwaves tingle at the bottom of my spine and work their way to the top while my hand tightly grips the wood of the headboard.

A growl seizes my throat when your nails in my back dig deeper, raking down to leave angry red scratches to cover the expanse of skin.

You're sobbing my name, the pleasure becoming too much for you as you break down into a mess of cries. You claw and scream and clench, pleading and erratic. It's empowering to watch you beg for me, to see you so small and aching for what I—and only I—can give to you.

Oh, my darling girl. I love you so much. I love it when you smile. I love it when you laugh. I love when you scream my name, when you sob the words out in a barely coherent plea for more. I love watching you mewl like a desperate little whore, squirming like a pathetic slut for me and my hands and my cock.

"Do you know how long I waited for you?" I husk, leaning down a little so your face is closer. I move my hand from your throat to your face, gripping your cheeks and puckering your lips. "Do you know how many nights I spent touching myself to the thought of you—watching you touch yourself in your little bed with your little fingers? I fucking needed you, baby." A rough thrust inside of you has me crumbling for a moment, burying my face in the crook of your neck with a short whimper in your ear. "Fuck, I knew you felt me. Those nights while you touched yourself, I knew you could feel me there, watching you, protecting you. Couldn't you?"

You can barely think about it the way you want to. Lost in the pleasure, you agree with everything I say as you rake a new trail down my back. "I knew you could," I rasp a laugh. "But now I fucking have you. You're fucking mine. I'm never letting you go."

Another round of sobs escapes you at my declaration. "Never let me go," you cry, begging me. "Please don't let me go."

I can feel the sparks of my release bursting within me and I know you're close, too. Reaching down to your little clit, I circle my thumb around it, a steady rhythm that instantly has your moans climbing higher.

"You want to cum, bunny? You needa cum for me?" You nod your head, tears streaming down your cheeks again. I bend down to kiss them away, drunk on the taste of them, the taste of you as I whisper into your ear. "Go on then. Cum for me, honey. Let it all out for me." I slam my hips into yours, the wet squelching of the impact continuing to echo in the room and fill the pit of my lust.

You throw your head back and scream, rooting your nails once more at my shoulder blades and clawing angry red lines so deep that blood begins to dribble from the scratches. It's too much for me to hold on any longer and I let go of the headboard in favor of wrapping my arms around you and pulling you into my chest, my hips grinding as far as I can go inside of you with a shuddering moan, a thick whimper just as pathetic as your own.

"Yeah, baby, fucking squeeze my cock. Milk me, bunny, take it all," I ramble through my release as I fill you up full of my hot, sticky love for you and what you do to me.

My thrusts slow until they're tiny ruts inside of you meant to draw out the last sparks of pleasure. You're whispering my name under your breath, small and repetitive, a tiny little chant that keeps you reminded of me.

I release the longer, trembling breath that had been pent up within me as I finally pull out of you. The strap disappears in the same stroke, and I grab the headboard again to hold myself up so I do not collapse on top of you.

I stare at your pretty face, coated in sweat and tears, still teased with the little pained expression painted on by your pleasure. Your lips are still forming my name, mouthing the word as you daze in and out of consciousness, your eyes nearly closed and blurry.

I place my hand on your cheek, bending down to you to kiss your precious lips and silence your whispers. I kiss you long and slow, completely different from the urgent, hungry kiss I'd devoured you with before. It brings you back to reality, gently pulls you back down to the ground after you were left floating in the clouds of sweet bliss.

When I pull away, your eyes are still closed and your breath is still unsteady. I shift to lay back down, hissing lightly at the stings of your claws in my back. Seeking my comfort, you move to lay your head on my chest and let me trace circles into your shoulders, along your collarbone. Your legs entwine with mine, and I can feel some of the wetness from your pussy of our mixed releases smear of my thigh.

Now you're mine. Forever claimed by my cum inside of you. No one else can have you.

We lay there in silence for a while. I thought you were asleep until you whispered in the faintest breath, "I'm sorry about your back."

I look down at you, smiling as I shake my head. "Don't be. Just means I'm yours forever."

You smile fondly at my response, "And I'm yours." I pull you closer.

You close your eyes to finally succumb to sleep, but it seems something has been eating away at your conscience, sticking to your brain like honey on your fingers.

"Was there someone else before me?" you whisper your eager question.

Where did this come from? The smallest flare of pain and nostalgia rises within me as I'm forced to think about such a time. I sigh gently, pulling you closer in an attempt at comforting myself. It takes me a moment to respond, uneasiness licking at my insides. "Yes."

You nod gently to yourself. "Who was she?"

I chuckle lightly before shrugging. "He was…everything to me." I sigh, staring at the ceiling through the dark space around us as I think. "We were going to have a life together."

You reach across my body and hold my side, stroking my bare skin with your thumb. You're trying to comfort me, make me feel better with the reminder of your presence. My heart swells. "What happened?" you whisper, your voice sticky with sleep.

I shrug once more. "What always happens… He was taken from me."

When you speak again, you're barely audible as the tiny mumble leaves you. "'M sorry, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. My perfect girl.

I shake my head gently. "Don't be sorry. It's okay." I glance down at you. "Do you know why?"

You peer up at me, a tiny smile on your sluggish face as your hazy gaze meets mine. "...Me?"

I smile wide and nod, reaching down to grab your chin as I pull you in another slow kiss. I hum into your mouth, stroking your cheek.

"Yes. You." I cup your cheek. "You are my everything now. And I am never letting you go." I pull you closer. "Ever."

You lick your lips. "Promise?"

I nod, "Promise."

You reach up to grab the back of my neck so you can kiss me again. Your lips are tired but insistent. "I love you, Wanda," you vow, pressing our foreheads together.

I feel a tear wet my cheek as my love for you wells up. I don't bother with wiping it away. "I love you, too, my zajačik."

~

Your hand is wrapped tightly in mine as we walk into the retail store you told me you wanted to go to. It had been weeks since you stepped out of the house, and you're still adjusting to seeing so many people around again as we step inside. You walk closely next to me, never once straying too far and pulling me with you whenever you are changing course too suddenly.

Bouncing from rack to rack, you pull clothes out and put some back, holding them up to yours and my body to get a visual of the style. You huff as you hold two hangers in your grip, trying to weigh the pros and cons as you struggle to choose.

You whine, "I want to get this jacket because it has deeper pockets, but I also want this jacket because of the zipper." You hold up both jackets: one is two sizes bigger than your own and would sag adorably off your shoulders (another reason you want it), the other is a biker jacket that can switch styles depending on how you choose to wear it.

"Get both," I shrug.

You drop your arms and make a pouting face. "I don't want to get both because it would be really expensive."

I laugh lightly, shrugging indifferently to your dilemma. "Get whatever you want. I will pay for it."

You sigh but still refuse to relent. "I'll get this one." You set the biker jacket on the handbasket on my arm, turning to put the other away.

"Then I will get this one." I grab it before you can put it up, adding it to the basket with a smile. You begin to argue before shaking your head, letting me do what I want.

"You spoil me," you mumble under your breath, failing at hiding your grin.

I chuckle, "I'm allowed to spoil you."

You shame your head again and look away to find something else. Your attention is violently gripped by a poster somewhere in the store advertising a sale. You take my hand and pull me behind you, bringing me to the undergarment section of the store.

"Mine keep disappearing," you comment, glancing slyly at me as I look away and pretend I don't see the look on your face.

You start picking through the folded pile of underwear with different colors and styles and sizes. I just watch you, lost in the way your face scrunches when you focus on something, the way your pretty eyes zero in to figure out what you want.

You notice me after a moment, glancing over my way before taking a double take as your eyes glue to mine. You chuckle, setting your options down again. "What?"

I don't move, humming as I keep looking over your face.

"Why are you smiling at me like that?" you ask, moving to take my hands to give yourself something to do as you stroke the backs of them fondly.

I shrug my shoulders. "You look so happy. I can't help it."

You breathe a laugh, leaning forward to place a quick kiss on my lips. "I'm happy when I'm with you," you confess lightly.

I raise a brow, leaning forward so you can hear my whisper. "You sure it's not because you're finally out of the house after being locked up for the past few weeks?"

You snort, "I would never leave that house again if it meant I got to keep you all to myself." You set your crooked finger under my chin, a quick tap, "You've got nothing to worry about, sweetheart."

Such a sweet little thing.

You move to step away from me, but my hands grip you a little tighter. "Wait, don't pull away… Not yet."

You step closer to me again, lingering there as I stroke the backs of your hands. I take in a deep breath, "I'm glad you're here."

You smile, wrapping your arms around my neck to pull me into a tight hug, my own arms falling to your waist. You kiss my cheek as you hold me for a little while longer.

"I'm glad you know I needed you."

You pull away as I chuckle, squeezing my hands before turning back to the piles in front of you and grabbing five pairs to put in the basket. "I saw some really nice dresses over here. We could get some and go get ice cream after?"

I smile fondly, finding your side and wrapping an arm around your waist. "Whatever you want, my zajačik."

You shudder at my name for you, leaning into my side for a moment before walking again.

There is no way I could ever let you go, my zajačik. I fought so hard to get you and now, here we are, walking around the store with our hands intertwined, smiling and laughing and enjoying the other's presence with an affection that warms my heart enough to light a fire.

I love you so much. I will always love you, my sweet girl.

And I will never let you go.

True Believer taglist:@activebliss @xxromanoffxx @thelastpyle @likefirenrain @babypink224221 @autisticbrie @alexxavicry @evabalexeeva @dumb-fawkin-bitch @hatterripper31 Red-Head taglist: @red1culous @wannabe-fic-reader @imnotsaddude @lovelyy-moonlight @tessarqctt @fanreader @smromanoff Wanda’s Witchlings taglist: @mypoptartburnt @lucydiibi @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @daenerys713 @celestbarnes​ Tag yourself here...

[nightvyre]

Since it's the second anniversary of WandaVision, I just wanted to appreciate something that came out from that show but lacks the recognition it deserves : the Genesis score by Christophe Beck (listen to it here).

It has been two years since it was released and yet, this remains my favorite MCU score and I am so upset it didn’t win an Emmy for Outstanding Music Composition for Limited Series.

To be honest, I am not really a big fan of Wanda’s theme, but Christophe Beck has really outdone himself with this particular score. The build-up was so well done. The way it started with Wanda & Vision’s love theme, and gradually becomes more melancholic as Wanda realized that Vision was truly gone and that she will never got the closure that she wanted.

We as the audience truly felt Wanda’s pain, longing for something that’s already gone, before it finally became too much and her grief exploded (the climax of this score, 3:43).

Wanda unleashing her chaos magic was supposed to be an epic, badass moment. However, during this scene, all you could hear was her heart breaking and you could only felt sorry for her, as the music intensifies while she’s rewriting reality—before finally the music resolves (4:36) and we see Wanda ended up being consumed by her own lies / imagination. The theme started and ended with their love theme once again; because what is grief, if not love persevering?

Also, a nice touch to the title, as Genesis means “the origin of something”, referring to the creation of the Hex.

[tribricies]

Icons Scarlet Witch

follow me for more edits.

[iconslizzie]

like this post if you save/use. ♡

[visionmcu]

★ j u s t   m a r r i e d ★

[kurtty-drabbles]

House of M Redone part 5

N/A: I got Netflix but I´ll not let my writing stop. Here we go, Kurt, you´re so whipped.

@dannybagpipesarecalling @muninandhugin @tieflingteeth

The school has upholds many traditions, smaller and bigger, among teachers and students. It was a way to bond with the old and next generation. So far, so good. Except, a new novelty roaming around the halls and classroom. 

Said novelty is nothing more or less than Nightcrawler, one of the most famous Red guards. Whispers, speculations, including some autographs-sometimes, follow by requests of petting his fur- however, what fuels the rumors are two facts:

1) Nightcrawler is taking his time to visit one person.

2) The said person is none other than Kitty Pryde.

Kitty is spotting a new hairstyle. Fluffy and Jewish style will never out of the menu but is possible to change a few things. So, Kitty has a wavy short style.

(Kitty hairstyle)

At this very moment, Kitty is reading some essays with a knee eye to any strange line regards Namor- some of her students have mothers who like to help in the essays. Some mothers have an extreme adoration- causing an exasperated sigh.

"Oh my God, if I read another line about Namor´s abs..." Kitty taps her pen in a nervous tick. One time, two times, furthermore three times. Now, she´s writing something in the essay. "Tell your mother I´m not interested in knowing about Namor´s sex life...doubt his dick could have stopped the grand war! But rest assured he did try" 

"So, not a fan of Namor?" a male voice draws in. Kitty humms in agreement as she picks another essay.   Doe-eyes lift up to see Nightcrawler smirking at her. "He can be a hassle to deal, let me tell you that... he and his fangirls" mentally add and his obsession with Sue Storm

"Hello, Nightcrawler, what a surprise to see you, in my office, may I help you? Soon, we´ll dive into the history of the Red Guards...I´ll spares no one of my witty" she promises.

"As I would expect of such a teacher like you" Kurt´s smooth line must be appreciated. "I´m here to ask for a favor. Kitty, would you like to go with me to the royal ball? The royal family has many parties and gatherings and I, as a member of the Red Guard, must attend and be on my best behavior" Kurt notes sagely how her doe eyes are glued on his golden ones.

"Oh, you mean ...no orgies?" her question is childish, filled with innocence as her grin got wider.

Kurt wrinkles at this. His fangirls seem to appreciate his sexy appeal too much sometimes.

"No, no orgies." is important to emphasize this as strongly as possible. Again, some of his fandoms really enjoy Kurt´s sex appeal. "But I do need to be on my best behavior..."

Kitty´s eyes look down as her fingers tap on her desk. She looks up again to send the pitiful stare Kurt ever saw. "Oh, elf, I´m so sorry...who is this stupid lady that refused you? Look" she clicks her tongues and has a contemplative expression written on her face. "I´m a big fan of enemies to lovers and all that, but in real life, if a lady says no...date another lady won´t make her magically love you. LET IT GO, elf"

Kurt can only narrow his eyes at this. " Are you...using Frozen/Disney jokes on me?"

Kitty is the image of the innocent. As usual.

"There´s no other girl, just you" Kurt promised never seeing the appeal of dating a girl to make another jealous. "I must say...your self-deprecating humor is not flattering" smirks at her expression. 

"So, let me get this straight, you" points to Kurt vehemently with her pen. "could have any lady to the royal ball and for some reason, one I´m not getting, you want to go with me? What about them?" the pen now points to the pair of eyes staring at them with wide eyes.

It took a minute for Kurt to look. It took a minute for all of them to leave.

"I want to go with you....I feel you, in all your wisdom and wit, won´t let me go to an orgy party" humor is the best weapon. Case and point, Kitty smiles at this.

"Well, I would love to...but, you know, in the program X...they didn´t add in my DNA how to dance and talk to royals" Kurt pouts. Kitty smiles- one must observe, as Kurt did, how her face is perfect to smile- the answer to such line is being waited for.

"You´ll never let me forget that, will you?"

"NOPE"

"Fine, I deserve, I guess. I still think it was strange a ..." thread this line with a clear mind and common sense. "civilian, I would say civilian, manage to handle the situation with Juggernaut so calmly"

"Elf, I´m a teacher...Juggernaut is nothing compared to that" winks at him. "Ok, guess I pick you up at 19hs?"

The nerve of this woman.

Then her face gets serious. "Look, I have to ask...what happened to nurse..." Kitty and embarrassed shouldn´t walk together. She puts her hands in front of her chest to make a point. "you know, the nurse I have a big personality?"

Oh, the nerve of this woman.

"Christine...well, she won´t bother us, I hope"

"She seems ...good"

"You can say she´s not very bright, she asked me if I was German"

"Normally, I hate a man calling another woman dumb or anything like that, but...yeah, in this case...I feel you. Is she alright?"

"Finally got we´ll never happen and took a job in Chicago"

"Well, good for her"

___________________________________________________________________________________________

(Emma´s dress)

Emma Frost is more than used to those social events. Having her school, and her name as well, in such high regard means doors are open for her.  The events that almost happen to her students have prevented only thanks to Juggernaut´s stupidity and Emma is well-aware of that.

Oh, right. Kitty and a certain Red Guard are in this equation as well. Not that Emma needs to point this one out.

Oh, speaking on the devil. Emma´s blue eyes narrow as she notices Kitty Pryde, of all people, present in the entrance gate having her arms locked with a certain Red Guard. Oh, Nightcrawler, you´re as subtle and discreet as an elephant in a china store.

Felicia Hardy is Black Cat. Felicia Hardy is a businesswoman and right now, Emma´s date. Coming closer to Emma´s ear to whisper always have double meanings. "Is that...Nightcrawler?"

Nightcrawler is really that popular.

Emma wouldn´t want to introduce herself or have to speak with Kitty Pryde. Sadly,  Black Cat has other ideas.

"Oh my god, you´re Nightcrawler, sorry, that sounds stupid. You know who you are. I just want to say I´m a fan" Felicia speaks in an amicable tone and shakes hands with the azzure man.

Her eyes notice Kitty. Kitty, for her part, was too busy sending death glares to Emma. It was a mutual action.

"Oh, you must be Kitty Pryde, Emma told me a lot about you" Felicia smirks. "anyone who can make the great White Queen nervous is a powerful foe"

Kitty now is taken back by this line. "She used to parade around wearing a corset and nothing else"

"Only because you know it looks good on me...not my fault you have a problem with your body"

"Oh, Emma, don´t confuse my ability to use pants to shame over my body. And for the records, all those plastic surgeons ...and no change on your terrible personality" Kitty has a mock concern expression.

Emma won´t dare to cause a scene. Not tonight.

"Nightcrawler, careful with this one. She´s a handful" Emma decides to say only this. Felicia and Emma are holding hands and walking away.

Kurt couldn´t leave this reply without a proper answer. "Oh, God. I hope so. I hope she´s the kind of the woman my mother warned about"

Emma has no response. Felicia is cackling. Kitty is looking at her shoes- if anyone asks, she can say how she was admiring such expensive shoes. Only that- and Kurt wonders if that is the right thing to say.

(Kitty´s dress)

__________________________________________________________________________________________

(Wanda´s dress)

Wanda Maximoff is the Witch Queen, as most of her followers and family love to call her, and while she understands traditions and its importance...she must confess how this gathering almost didn´t happen. Wanda is as social as a person can be. 

Tonight, she´s on the edge. Lorna and Pietro aren´t good actors to pretend otherwise.

"Anyone wants booze?" Lorna suggests already with some drinks in hand.

"Sure, but I can´t get drunk" Pietro confessed. "thanks to my powers"

"Wanda?" Lorna asked as Wanda is looking Cap Marvel guiding the boys around - a subtle body-guard. A powerful body-guard- her eyes snap back to Lorna as the other is offering drinks to Wanda.

"Yes, please. I´m not feeling this is a good idea...After everything, I feel we´re sitting ducks waiting to be attacked"

"Wanda...you´re not alone, ok? We´re here to protect you, and everyone else. Let´s be real, not the first time a villain wants to conquer Genosha" Lorna half-joke. No one seems to get her sense of humor.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Kitty was admiring the view. Not Kurt, if he asks, but the people in general. Everyone is so famous and important. Hell, even Emma Frost is important. If her eyes linger on Kurt´s handsome face is only to prove how important he is.

After all, Nightcrawler is the famous Red Guard. The fact he´s here with her still seems a dream.

"Am I that handsome?" Kurt asked smiling showing a part of his fangs.

"I think you know this by now...I´m just impressed by how much important people are here" Kitty confessed. Too honest. Too raw and too afraid at the same time.

"Yeah, everyone here is important"

"I know"

"Even you"

"What?"

Kurt feels this is a small victory. Especially seeing her blushing face. A small victory.

________________________________________________________________________________________

The Queen is not one to ignore heroes. So, once she caught the word Nightcrawler and the famous teacher Pryde are present in her ball, Wanda makes her mission to at least say hi to them.

Poor woman! if she hasn´t thought quickly...her students...

The Queen needs no introductions. Everyone knows her face. Kitty´s eyes widen and without thinking much-if she was thinking at all- she makes a bow and puts her right hand´s palm in her forehead and speaks this line.

"Enchanted to meet you, Witch Queen"

It came out so naturally. Kitty wonders if someone is controlling her movements or something because she feels too abashed to say anything else.

Kurt is at a loss for words here.

Wanda claps her hands together. "Oh, a fellow witch too?" her eyes are glowing. For once, not with her power.

"No, Your Highness. One of my students is a witch and goes to the Cackle Academy in the summer. Her parents believe in education in the magic system and in the mutant system...and I can always learn something new"

Better be honest with the Witch Queen.

Is the wise decision as Wanda nods in approval.

"Still, it's nice to see people paying respects to the Witchcraft rituals. Anyway, you´re Katherine Anne Pryde. I...just want to say how brave you were for dealing with Juggernaut until the Red Guards arrived" Wanda speaks with poison. As a real Witch Queen should.

"Well, he didn´t want to lead me any sword...I had to be creative" Kitty responds.

Wanda chuckles and nods. "You´re creative enough. Maybe next time, Nightcrawler can lean one of his swords" and adds. "still, I´m happy you and your students are unharmed and I promise you...this won´t happen again"

Kurt is really at a loss for words here.

Wanda excuse herself as she has to talk with the Queen of Wakanda. Ororo Monroe.

"Katzchen...what are you?"

"At this moment, I don´t know...Kurt, can I stay the rest of the night holding your arm?"

"Please"

"Thank you"

[commander-writergirl]

ABO Marvel Monday

It’s Marvel Monday! So send in your A/B/O headcanon ideas with the any of the characters listed below.

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Natasha Romanoff

Eddie Brock

Carol Danvers

Wanda Maximoff

Frank Castle

Tags: @outside-the-government​​​ @thefanficfaerie​​​ @onebatch--twobatch​–twobatch​ @poeticandors​​​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​​​ @marvel-winchester17​​​ @marvelous-capsicle​​​ @girl-next-door-writes​​​ @callingmrsbarnes​​​ @imamotherfuckingstar-lord​​​ @woakiees​

[missmonsters2]

Cuts of Your Silhouette (18+)

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda can no longer go to the universe where she'd be most happy but she'll use all the power she's accumulated so far to go the universe where she's most loved. What she finds in this universe is unexpected but in the end, Wanda cannot help but covet it no matter what.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. soft!dark!Wanda. dubcon. explicit smut. Fingering. Oral. choking. overstimulation. strap-on use (cum filled). dirty talk. obsessive behaviour. domestic fluff. angst. MoM spoilers

You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any other platforms (even with credit)

Note: Innocent moots, don't look at me 👀 This is me acknowledging MoM but only in the fact that Wanda is so hot and deserves to be happy in her own unhinged way LOL

miláčik - honey/darling

Count: 7.2k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The universe where I'm most loved.

Wanda chants this only thing in her head, cautious hope blooming where there was only decay. 

Earth-838 was no longer an option, thanks to Strange's incessant determination to stop her from becoming happy.

That universe was closed off to her, but it was okay. If Wanda couldn't have the universe where she was most happy, she could make do with where she was most loved. 

Wanda has just enough of America's power to make one trip, and she needs to make it count before Strange could come and ruin everything again.

The universe where I'm most loved.

A part of Wanda feels like she's missing something important from this universe she's abandoning. It almost feels as if something is resisting her from going to the universe where she's most loved, but Wanda forces her body to traverse. 

Enough. 

Wanda has had enough of the grief and misery this universe brought. She has always loved more and loved harder than everyone else in her life. For once, Wanda wants to be the person who is loved beyond imaginable measures. 

And this new universe will give that to her. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

White quartz. 

It's the first thing Wanda notices. The kitchen island is huge, stretching and covering the middle of the kitchen, and she immediately falls in love with it. 

Wanda misses cooking real meals, a part of her that was subdued over time, with the lack of time and survival at the forefront. But this kitchen looked well-used while spotless. 

The smell of freshly baked cookies invades Wanda's nose, and she almost feels flustered at how homey it makes her feel. 

Looking up, Wanda turns her head and is shocked by her own reflection. Her hair is still a bright auburn, falling just a couple of inches below her shoulder with some natural waves as if she hadn't bothered straightening or fully curling it. 

"Mom, mom, mom!"

The sudden voices and thudding footsteps through the door startle Wanda. She looks to where the front door opened, and two tiny bodies come barreling through towards her.

The arms thrown around her waist almost knock the wind out of her, but the tears sting her eyes because—

"Billy, Tommy," Wanda trembles. 

"Mom, mom! Did you make the cookies?"

"Are they done?" 

"Can we have ice cream with it right now?" 

Wanda needs to swallow down the overwhelming emotion that knots in her throat before she can answer. 

Of course, Wanda thought. Where she was most loved—it'd be where her boys were. Whatever had occurred in this universe to cause Wanda to not be the happiest—it didn't matter because her boys were here, and as long as they were here, she could be the most loved.

"Sur—"

"Wanda Maximoff, you better not be giving in and spoiling the boys' appetite before dinner."

The new voice makes Wanda freeze. It's not familiar, raising Wanda's hackles as she holds the boys closer to her. She looks to the door again, and when you come through...Wanda's at a loss for words.

There's no universe where she's seen you.

You're struggling to hold all the grocery bags in your arms as you peer over to the trio. 

"Did you boys just abandon me with all the bags for cookies?" You cock your brows at them, meant to look displeased, but Wanda and the boys could see the tiny smirk of amusement on your lips. 

The boys giggle before they move out of Wanda's hold towards you. There's a moment where Wanda wants to grab them back to her again, but when she sees them running towards you and taking some of the bags to lessen your load, Wanda can't help but stare.

"Sorry, mum," Billy gives you a boyish smile, trying to take another bag from you to help.

"But we could smell the cookies from outside!" Tommy cackles but still helps you out as well. 

Wanda feels her heart stop.

Mum?

The boys were referring to you as mum?

How could you be—

Now that one of your hands is free, Wanda watches as you ruffle the boys' hair one at a time before kissing the crown of their head.

"I'll forgive this once because I know mom's cookies are the best in the world and if I had been faster...I would've left you two in the dust," you start laughing as the boy screams indignations with squealing laughter. 

You're still laughing as the three of you make it back to the kitchen, placing all the bags on the counter. 

"Why don't you two run up and finish your homework? We'll give you a call when dinner is ready." You look at the boys.

"But the cookies—"

"—Are for after dinner," you cut them off with a look that has the boys sighing as they look at each other and give you and Wanda a kiss on the cheek before running off. 

Anxiety fills Wanda the second she's alone with you. It makes her want to raise her hands, preparing to fight you because who could you be that would make you mum to her boys? Who were you to intrude in on her happiness and the world where she was most loved?

Was this a universe where Vision existed and they divorced? Were you their stepmother?

You turn your face to her, and Wanda's hackles rise like the hair on the back of her neck. You reach out, grabbing her apron and pulling her towards you. Wanda's about to unleash the full force of her magic on you but is stopped short when she feels warm lips against her own.

It's hot—needy and desperate almost. 

Her hand falls against your shoulder and grips at your shirt, and the kiss is broken.

"Hi, darling," you pant just mere inches away from her lips. "I really, really like when you look like this."

The way you say it almost sounds like a whine, and Wanda's lip twitches at it.

"Oh?" is the only thing Wanda can say.

You hum, peppering kisses against her jaw and down her neck, and the sensation is almost too overwhelming. On the one hand, this body feels accustomed to the physical affections, but Wanda is not.

"I missed you all day," you sigh. "Can't believe you're just being all pretty here all the time and I miss hours of it. Should I work from home tomorrow?"

Wanda swallows. Your lips keep peppering kisses, and Wanda almost has whiplash how the needy kisses turn into tender ones, brushing over the tip of her nose and eyelids. 

Something hot stings behind Wanda's eyes. 

"Can you?" Wanda manages to say. She doesn't know what to say otherwise. It's daunting to know she knows nothing about her life here—she knows nothing about you. 

"I don't have any meetings tomorrow," you stand straighter, your eyes drifting up in thought. "Maybe I should take the day off," you muse. "It's been a while since we did something fun with just the two of us."

Wanda doesn't know what to say. She just looks at you, wary and confused. You don't seem to notice her expression too much, taking her silence as agreement to what you suggested. 

You turn to look through the groceries. "What do you want to eat for dinner tonight? I bought a variety of things since you said you weren't sure what you're craving."

Wanda weighs her options and choices. She needs to integrate herself into this life and ensure you don't suspect anything.

"Is there something you're craving?" Wanda asks you in a friendly tone. 

You hum slowly in thought. "Oh, how about those meatballs you made last month? Those were so good, I've been dreaming about them." You start to put away the groceries other than what ingredients you'll need. You mull over what sides to have.

You're mumbling about what's easier to make, and it becomes clear to Wanda you'll be staying to cook with her, and although it's foreign, Wanda finds it endearing. 

Once you finish deciding, you turn to smile impishly at her, and Wanda quirks her brow at it. Despite not knowing you, she somehow feels like she knows that look on you.

"Want to split a cookie? We have to be super quiet, though. I'm pretty sure the boys have a secret power of knowing when we're eating cookies without them."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It becomes clear throughout the evening that while, yes, her boys love her, they're not the reason why this variant of Wanda is the most loved in the universe.

It's you—you're the reason. 

The evening puts Wanda on edge for different reasons. She looks at the ring on her left hand, trying to not fiddle with it again. You helped her put it back on when the two of you were done cooking, seemingly knowing where she always placed it.

She was married, Wanda deliberated, to a woman. It was odd, Wanda had never considered it, but she found that she was at ease with it.

You make her laugh, you look at her with so much love, and Wanda feels suffocated by it. She feels smothered in every way she has ever wanted to be, and she could drown in your love and the way you look at her and the boys. 

They're not yours; it's obvious. You've stepped up into a role you never had to, yet you did. For her, yes, but because you love the two boys as if they're your own. 

You always find a way to touch her, as if you can't be close enough. It's your legs pressed against hers underneath the table, almost tangled together. It's your hand on top of hers at the diner table or on her thigh.

It's all subconscious, Wanda knows. She knows because she looks into your head on a surface level. Things float about and tease deep inside, and Wanda must refrain from breaking into your mind piece by piece. There'd be time for that later. 

"Alright, what should we do tonight? Movies? Games?" You ask as you gather the plates with Tommy to place into the dishwasher. Wanda's eyes trail after you, staring at your form in scrutiny before Billy tugs at her arm. 

"What do you want to do, mom?" He asks her, and Wanda knows he's asking her because he can tell she's been out of sorts, and it makes her heart swell.

"Oh, anything you want to do, sweetheart," Wanda wraps her arm around Billy, placing his head against her collarbone as she strokes his hair and kisses his forehead.

"Movie!" Tommy is screaming from the kitchen as he runs back in with you trailing behind with the cookies and ice cream.

"Do you mind grabbing plates, darling?" You ask Wanda, kissing the crown of her head as you pass by her and set the things down in your arms.

Wanda is about to get up, but you place your hand on her arm.

"Use your powers," you tilt your head in confusion as to why she was getting up.

Wanda is surprised you so openly encourage her to use her powers, but she likes it. Four plates float from the kitchen to the dining table and set themselves down gently. 

"Alright, how many cookie ice cream sandwiches do we want?" You look at the boys.

"Ten!" The boys shout simultaneously as they look at each other, smiling.

You snort, and Wanda finds herself laughing.

"Ambitious," you smirk, "but let's start with two and go from there."

"Mom," Tommy whines as he looks at Wanda like he knows she'll be more likely to cave in. "Tell mum to make it three."

The look Tommy gives her makes Wanda tender. This is everything she wanted, this was everything she deserved, and she'd do anything for her boys.

Wanda looks at you and shrugs. "It can't hurt to have one more."

You point the ice cream scoop at her but grab more cookies. "When either the ice cream melts by the time they get to the third one, or they get too full, you will regret this, Maximoff."

You're still grinning, and the boys are chatting animatedly, and Wanda is surprised to find she wants this moment to last, even with you in it.

The boys grab their plates and take off carefully to the sofa and begin looking for a movie to watch. You diligently make a cookie ice cream sandwich for Wanda.

"Let's go," you say as you pass her the dessert.

"Not going to make yourself one?" Wanda asked as you went to put the ice cream back in the freezer.

You return, pecking her quickly on the lips, and then promptly take a bite out of the dessert you just made Wanda.

"Someone's going to have to eat the third one the boys won't finish," you say after chewing.

"And if they finish it?" Wanda challenges.

You grin at her innocently. "If it seems like they're on track to eating the third one, I'll share with my generous wife."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The boys don't finish the third ice cream cookie sandwich as you predicted, and you look entirely too smug at her when you're eating the soggy dessert. Of course, you generously shared the dessert with Wanda, who tried to refuse, but it was futile. 

The night was peaceful, and Wanda almost hadn't wanted it to end. You spent the evening curled into her, almost purring as she ran her fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp. You fit perfectly against her, warm and alive.

Wanda doesn't know what to think, and she merely goes with the flow, keeping you close as you clearly so want. She strokes the softness of the skin of your arm while you play with the fingers of her other hand.

When you do this, Wanda can't help but think about how you don't know. You don't know her corrupted fingers, blackened by the results of her desperation to be happy. 

"I think it's time for bed, boys," you say suddenly, and Wanda looks over to find the boys half-falling asleep on the couch.

"No, I'm not sleepy," Tommy argues, trying to open his eyes, but they stay half-lidded.

Billy doesn't seem to agree but doesn't speak up either, curling into Wanda's side.

"Bedtime, Tommy," Wanda gives him a look to which he frowns but agrees as he gets up with Billy, and they make their way upstairs.

"I'm going to clean up," you tell Wanda.

"Do you want help?" She offers, but you shake your head.

"No, why don't you start tucking the boys in and I'll be there soon?"

Wanda nods, hesitating for a moment before she leans over and kisses the corner of your mouth, and walks off. She can hear the sounds of dishes clanking as she makes her way up the stairs. Taking her time, she looks around. The hallway is filled with photos of you and her together, and there were photos of all four of them.

But one particular photo made her pause, heart dropping into her stomach as she stared at it.

A photo with Vision with the kids. 

Vision—he was in this universe as well? Had he died? She stares at the photo, finding that the kids don't look much younger—a year at the most.

Wanda stands at the photo longer than she thinks until she can hear someone calling her.

"Mom?"

It's Billy and Tommy, stepping out of the washroom as they've finished brushing their teeth.

"Hey, all ready for bed?" Wanda smiles at them, and they nod. She follows them to their room as they both jump into their bed, only a couple of feet away from each other. 

The scene is all too familiar, and her chest aches. She tucks them in, kissing each of their foreheads as she sits on the edge of Tommy's bed. At this point, you enter the room.

Tommy smiles at you as you grin back at him, walking over to him and kissing his forehead. He rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything.

You then walk over to Billy's bed, sitting on the edge and kissing his forehead.

"Did you have fun tonight?" You ask softly, and the boys nod. "And you finished your homework?"

The boys roll their eyes in union but nod nonetheless.

"Angels, the lot of you are," you tease, and they giggle. 

"Goodnight," you and Wanda bid. "See you in the morning."

"Goodnight," they say together.

"Love you," Billy says sleepily as his eyes close, and Tommy mumbles something similar. 

With that, you stand up, holding your hand out for Wanda. She looks at her kids one more time, chanting to herself that she will see them in the morning, that this isn't a dream and she won't wake to the nightmare. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Were you okay today?" You ask softly. "You were kind of quiet."

The two of you were lying in bed together. You have curled into Wanda again. Your face rested against her chest, arm around her as you rubbed her back.

It's soothing, Wanda thought. It almost made her bitter that she hadn't felt like this in a long time. 

Wanda felt you shift and looked down to see you peering up at her. 

"Of course," Wanda reassures you. "Am I always so rambunctious?"

"Sometimes," you grin, teasing her, and Wanda pinches your side, making you try to wriggle away from her. She holds you tighter, preventing you from moving too far away from her. 

When things settle down, and you wriggle to move back close against her, Wanda stares at you pensively. 

"Do you love me?" She asks.

The question surprises you as you look back up at her. You study her face as if you were looking for answers.

"You haven't asked that since just before our wedding," you comment and that surprises Wanda. Because, at the very least, she knows the two of you have been married for a couple of years. 

This variant of her was so sure you loved her that she hadn't questioned it for years?

It was almost laughable to Wanda. Something jealous brews inside her, simmering just beneath the surface. 

Wanda doesn't say anything, and she thinks you might not either, or you'll say something so predictable and empty like, "of course I do."

But you simply press your face into her chest, reaching to grab her hand and drag it to your cheek.

"Look," you tell her, and Wanda freezes.

Privacy was always an issue for the people around Wanda. They always worried about whether or not she was listening to them, even if unintentionally. 

Now with how her powers had grown, it was a given that people automatically assumed she was breaking into your head. Don't get it wrong, Wanda had. Anything to get the results she wanted, she broke every unspoken rule to get it. 

But here you were, freely offering Wanda access. Here you were, being vulnerable to her with all the trust. 

And Wanda didn't hesitate. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You sleep soundly on your side with your back facing Wanda, and she stares at the back of your head. 

She should kill you, Wanda thinks, make it look like an accident. 

The boys would be sad, but she could help them get it over time, couldn't she?

Seeing into your mind was too much. It was too much to see how lucky this variant of this Wanda was. Sure, she had lost many people to Thanos. She had even lost Vision last year to another villain threatening earth. 

But the loss only makes Wanda laugh bitterly because she had already split with Vision years prior, agreeing to amicable joint custody with the boys. 

All because she fell in love with you. 

But could she blame this variant? Wanda watched everything play like a long sitcom about how you loved her. 

This variant had been as miserable as she, had lost just as much as Wanda had, but she had you. 

It was unfair, Wanda thought distantly. Why had you not been in her universe? Or if you were, why did they not meet? Why was she once again the only Wanda to be alone?

This variant loved you tenderly—desperately. She kissed and made love to you like you'd break if she was too rough. 

And Wanda hates that variant for it. To love something so much that she was capable of treasuring it. 

Wanda scoots closer to you, pressing against you as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you flush against her. She presses a kiss against your shoulder and bites into it.

You whimper.

Wanda resolves that all of this is hers now.

This life, the boys, and you. 

Everything belongs to her.

And the first thing Wanda wants to know is if you will break if she's too rough. 

Wanda's hand slides against your thigh, gripping the inner of it roughly before she moves back up and yanks your panties down.

The sharpness of her touch wakes you.

"Wanda?" Your voice is groggy as you startle. "What are you doing?"

"Touching you," Wanda replies simply, her hand slipping between your folds, rubbing your length slowly, stroking your clit in circles when she comes up.

You moan lowly, your hips moving with her hand as she sucks and nips at your neck. It isn't long until Wanda's fingers are slick from you.

"You got so wet quickly, miláčik," Wanda husks in your ear. "You must want me to fuck you badly."

Your breath hitches at the way Wanda talks to you. The two of you engage in dirty talk often, but not like this.

Wanda guides your leg over her hip before she resumes stroking your pussy until you're dripping and thrusting your hips desperately against her fingers for more.

Wanda's other hand is under you, wrapped around your torso and underneath your shirt as she gropes your chest roughly. Her index finger rolls your hardened nipple back and forth, and she can hear your labored breathing.

Your neck is littered with hickeys, dark and bruising. Wanda isn't even close to being done with you, and you look so ruined already. Wanda wants to see you completely undone. She wants to break you down to nothing so she can build you back up to be hers. 

"Wanda..." you keen, gripping the bed sheet on the side, trying to not cry at how bad you want more. Something feels different, but you can't put your finger on it. Honestly, you could barely even think about it with how your body was trembling.

"Use your words, miláčik," Wanda bites at your earlobe. "Tell me what you want—how ready your body is."

You feel close already with how diligent Wanda had been paying attention to your clit, but you just want—

"Please, please, please," you barely get out. "I want you inside, I wanna feel you...I want to cum."

Wanda mutters about how you're such a good girl and thrusts three fingers inside you until she's all the way in, stroking your walls.

"Oh, fuck, yes," you moan, gripping the bedsheets tighter as your leg tenses against Wanda's hip. 

How you feel on Wanda's fingers has her biting your shoulder again, almost hard enough to leave imprints. You whimper at the pain, but Wanda doesn't let up.

Her other hand abandons your chest and moves out of your shirt up to your neck, grasping it. You feel so delicate against her, and Wanda almost understands why this variant was adamant about being gentle. 

"Wanda—" you say, almost a little alarmed, but Wanda hushes you.

"You're gonna cum just like this," she hisses in your ear, squeezing your throat a little tighter. She licks the shell of your ear, and her voice is throaty when she says, "I missed you, too. You wouldn't even believe how long I've been waiting for you."

Wanda can feel herself dripping for you, but she wants to feel you come over her fingers. She keeps her thrusts inside you, curling her fingers as she strokes that spot inside you that makes you tremble. 

"Wanda—"

"Go on and cum, miláčik," Wanda moves her fingers a little faster, keeping the pressure steady as it finally mounts over, and you come with a long groan.

You feel lightheaded and exhausted as Wanda strokes you through the remnants of the hardest orgasm you've ever had.

Going limp against her body, Wanda releases your throat as she pulls her fingers out of you, earning a hum from you. She sucks the mess you made on her fingers, licking the length of her fingers one by one.

You're panting, trying to regain control of your breathing, and Wanda moves and pushes you to lie on your back. She grips the end of your t-shirt, dragging it up and over your head. She stares at your naked form unabashed, appreciating it for a moment before completely undressing herself. 

Wanda adjusts her body over yours, legs straddling your thigh. You feel Wanda lower herself, her wetness spreading over your thigh as she rides it slowly. 

The low guttural moan Wanda lets out sparks something in your stomach. She looks at you, her eyes glowing red for just a moment. 

"It's good you're taking the day off tomorrow."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Just like that," Wanda moans, grinding her hips more firmly.

Your hair is gripped tightly, hair threading through Wanda's fingers as she uses it as leverage to thrust her hips into your face. Wanda looks down, only able to see a little less than half your face as she's sitting on it while you eat her out. 

Your hands are hooked over Wanda's thigh, securing and occasionally massaging her thighs and hips. Your tongue dips inside her, and Wanda grunts. Her thighs tighten around your head. 

Wanda allows you to drag it out a little longer before she pulls at your hair in a warning, and you quickly fasten your lips around her clit, sucking and keeping the pressure steady until Wanda lets out a high keen, thrusting her hips with reckless abandon as she comes messily over your face. 

You don't complain about how she might be suffocating you, and when Wanda slows her hips, coming down from her high, she looks to the side. The curtains are still closed, but she can tell it's nearing noon. 

Wanda had woken up early to drop the kids off at school while you slept on obliviously. When she came back, she only let you sleep a little longer before waking you by peppering kisses up and down your neck, pressing her body into yours as she lay on top of you. 

Wanda's been working your body since, and she's lost count of how many times she's made you orgasm. Similarly, she's lost count for herself as well. 

Climbing off your face carefully, she watches you use your fingers to clean your face, licking her slick off your fingers. The sight of you exhausted but clearly having enjoyed yourself has Wanda leaving more hickeys down your body. You're littered with them, all marked up by her, and she revels in it. 

"Wanda..." you whine, trying to move your body away, but she holds you still. "I can't anymore."

But Wanda doesn't listen, kissing her way up your body until she's face to face with you. She captures your lips in a messy kiss, licking the inside of your mouth and the teeth pulling at your bottom lip. She can taste herself with the taste of you, and it's all Wanda wants. 

"One more," Wanda tells you, caressing your arms until she reaches your hands, pushes them against the mattress, and holds them down. 

"Wanda, I really can't—" you shake your head. "We've been going at it for hours...I'm too sensitive now."

"Feels better that way," Wanda mutters, barely even listening to you. Her body feels addicted to you. Everything in her tells her to take it, to make you give everything to her. You're hers now; you're always going to be hers. 

You try to reason with Wanda, unsure what's gotten into her. The last time the two of you had this much sex was around the time you were on your honeymoon. 

But even then, whatever was happening now was different. Wanda was always a little desperate. It was just who she was after everything she's experienced. As desperate as she was, though, Wanda was also always careful. 

That carefulness seemed to fly out of the window since last night. Wanda was fucking you with reckless abandon, determined to take everything and more. 

You feel a pressure between your legs, something thick and slick pressing into you. Wanda groans, her forehead dropping against yours. You look down, but the only thing you catch is something red attached to Wanda disappearing into you. 

"Wanda—" your breath hitches, feeling the stretch as Wanda moves inside you. "Oh, god, Wanda, it's too much," your hands strain against Wanda's as she laces them together, bringing them over your head and pinned down.

"Just perfect," Wanda mutters, and you can feel her lips ghosting yours. "Feels good, feels so fucking good inside you."

You know then that Wanda used her power to create some kind of strap-on connected to the nerves of her clit. You can feel Wanda's hardened nipples rubbing over yours as she thrusts slowly into you. 

When she's all the way in, Wanda pauses, taking a deep breath. You were trembling from how sensitive you felt; it was on the edge of being painful.

But then Wanda moves, and you let out a string of incoherent pleas. She barely moves out before she's thrusting back in. She strokes the same spot inside you over and over until tears run down your face.

"One more," Wanda breathes into your mouth. "One more, give me just one more."

"I can't—" you huff. 

"Yes, you can," Wanda cuts you off. Her thrusts get harder but remain the same on moving slightly out before thrusting relentlessly back in. The rough sensation brings you closer and closer to the edge, and Wanda can feel you pulsating as you get near your end.

 She drops your hand, and they immediately go to her back, your nails dragging down. Your roughness makes her moan, and Wanda sinks her head into your neck.

"Fuck, I want to come inside you," Wanda mutters. She wants to coat the inside of you. She wants to own you in there too. Wanda wants it all. "I think you'd like that, wouldn't you, miláčik?"

You don't answer, and Wanda grips your face as she lifts her head to stare down at you. Her thrusts are getting messy as you are nearing the climax. 

"Wouldn't you like it?" Wanda asks you again, more roughly this time. "Tell me you want me inside you like that right now, miláčik."

It's like an unspoken threat that if you don't, Wanda won't let you off until you do.

"Yes," you immediately whimper. "Yes, yes, I want you to come inside me."

Wanda looks satisfied as she brings her thumb to stroke your clit until she's roughly ripping your last orgasm out of your over-wrought body. 

The moan you let out is soundless as Wanda groans in the back of her throat, and you feel something warm gush inside you. The thrusting doesn't stop as Wanda rides out the waves until you stop pulsating around her. 

Your chest heaves just as hers does, trying to calm your breathing. You pray that Wanda finally takes mercy on you and keeps her promise that it was just one more. 

You feel the strap-on disappearing until it's just Wanda resting between your legs. She kisses you softly now, and you almost breathe loudly in relief as you return her tender kisses with your own.

Despite how rough Wanda treated you, your gentle kisses are what sways her completely into you. Gentle, rough—you truly love Wanda as she is. 

"I love you," Wanda mumbles against your lips. "Always love me."

You stroke her head, finally regaining your breath.

"Have I ever not?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The next few weeks for Wanda are complete bliss. Even though you're somewhat wary around her, you still touch her the same.

This life was perfect, Wanda knows. This was the wonderful little family Wanda had ever wanted. 

Weekdays are filled with domestic heaven, while the weekends are filled with various activities.

Wanda wants this forever, which is why the headaches and glitches she's been experiencing as of late are concerning. 

The spell isn't fully complete, and Wanda curses that she should've fought harder to kill America when she had the chance. They were looking for her, Wanda was sure, and they were getting closer. 

On top of that, she could feel her variant fighting to break loose. 

'Get out,' Wanda could hear her variant in her head. 'Get out! This isn't yours. None of this is! She isn't yours.'

'She's mine and I would never hurt her or the boys,' Wanda would repeatedly say to temper down her variant.

"Are you feeling okay?" 

Wanda snaps her head to look at you, unaware you had approached her.

"Yes," Wanda nods. "Just a headache."

You place your hand over her forehead and frown. "You are a little warm. Maybe you should go lie down. I can finish cleaning and cook tonight."

Wanda nods, and you peck her lips as she makes her way up to her bedroom and locks the door shut. All alone now, her hands returned to their true state, darkened fingers as if decaying. Wanda conjures The Darkhold, flipping through the pages.

There had to be a solution to stay here forever. 

There had to be something to keep Strange and America away from her. 

But before Wanda can search deeper, she hears wreckage downstairs and your scream. 

Wanda immediately transports herself downstairs using her magic and is enraged at the sight.

They found her. 

Strange and America stood in her living room with a portal open, posing to fight her when they saw her. 

"Wanda, you need to stop this," Strange tries to reason with her again, but she tilts her head at him with a condescending smile.

"Stop what? Living my life here? You're the one intruding, and you need to leave. I'm past mercy, Strange."

"This isn't your life!" Strange yells at her. "Let the variant of you go."

"Silence!" Wanda yells at him.

"Oh? Scared your girlfriend's going to find out?" America said with bravado, but Wanda can see her wariness underneath as she eyes you from the side.

You were cautious but silent.

Wanda begins to conjure the red wisps in her hand. "She's my wife." Thrusting her hands out, she releases her magic, and a fight ensues.

Strange is still trying to reason with her, but Wanda doesn't want to hear it anymore.

"You were a fool to bring the girl here," Wanda sneers at him when she gains the upper hand and has Strange subdued and America in her grasp.

The young girl is choking in Wanda's grip, and she sees it as a chance to finally get the power she needs to make this universe hers permanently.

"Wanda, stop!" 

The voice makes Wanda freeze. She turns her head and finds you staring at her with a horrified expression. 

The look of absolute fear makes Wanda feel like she's been punched in the gut.

"What are you doing?" You urge her. "Let her go, she's a kid!"

"No, no, no," Wanda tells you softly, trying to show you that she'd never hurt you. "She's a threat—to me, to you, to us and our life."

"This isn't your life," America chokes before she looks at you. "This isn't your Wanda!"

"Be QUIET," Wanda snarls at America, tightening her grip that makes America choke. 

"Wanda, stop it!" You yell at her, your eyes welling up with tears. "You're hurting people!"

The words make Wanda feel like she's crumbling. She drops America, letting the girl fall onto the floor on her back, hearing the wind knock out of the young girl's lungs. 

Wanda looks at you; betrayal is written all over her face.

"Why are you treating me like I'm the villain?" Wanda whispers, her eyes becoming hot with tears. "You said you loved me. How can you love me and think I hurt people?"

You take a careful step towards her. "Look around, Wanda," you say softly.

"I would never—" But the words fall short on Wanda's lips. "I'm not a monster," is all she can say quietly as she drops to her knees.

"I know you're not," you say softly as you kneel in front of her and cup her face gently. "Just like I know you're not my Wanda."

Wanda immediately looks into your eyes, surprised.

You give her a wry smile. "You think I don't know my own wife? I've known since the first night."

"When—"

"When you asked if I loved you and I let you look into my mind," you give her a sad smile. "My Wanda never takes the opportunity. She is adamant about never looking into my mind and I never offer because of it. She prefers talking honestly, even if it's harder and painful."

Wanda's crying, tears welling and overflowing freely.

"Then why—" Wanda sobs.

"Wanda had her own theories about the multiverse. She was always worried it would happen, but I think every version of her should be loved."

You wiped her tears, but new ones would just fall. "You seemed sad," you tell her truthfully. "Even though I knew it wouldn't be forever by me, I wanted you to know you are loved too."

Wanda's face contorts in pain, lips trembling as she shakes her head. 

"You're not a monster," you tell her again sternly. "You're a person who has done bad things out of grief but that doesn't always make you a bad person."

Wanda feels you kiss her cheek, and it's bitter.

"Do the right thing, Wanda," you encourage her. "It's time to go home."

"Is it home if you're not there?" Wanda tries to refute, and you give her a look.

"Am I dead?"

"...I don't know."

"Then look for me there," you drop your hands and move to hold Wanda's. "That variant of me might be waiting for you too."

It's silent for a moment, and America stands in the background, unsure, with Strange beside her.

"We'll be okay, Wanda," you tell her softly. "We are loved, and you will be too."

Wanda looks at you one last time before releasing the body she's held hostage, and America closes the portal to this universe. 

The scene of the home she's grown used to fades into her lonely throne. It's like a hole has grown in her chest, connecting all the missing parts of her until she's empty. 

America and Strange stand in the distance, unsure what their next move is if they have to continue fighting her. 

"You need to leave," Wanda calmly states.

"What?"

"I opened The Darkhold, and I'm the one who needs to close it so it can never tempt anyone again," Wanda stares at her blackened fingertips. "You need to leave because this place is going to collapse."

As if on cue, the temple began shaking and crumbling. Debris fell from the ceiling, and Strange and America looked at Wanda, who didn't spare them a glance. 

"I'm sorry, Wanda," Strange apologizes, and she knows it's for losing what was never hers in the beginning. With that, he takes America and flies off with her. 

The temple crumbles, and Wanda doesn't move, determined to see its end. Even if you can't witness it, she wants to prove to you that she is a good person. 

Wanda lets out a tiny smile, knowing that you probably believed she already followed through.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

-A Year and 6 months later-

Wanda sips her coffee, breathing in the fresh air. She looks down at her hair and finds it strange to see brown instead of auburn. It's been too long since she's seen the real color of her hair, and she wonders if it looks good. 

The day is bright and sunny, and Wanda revels in how the sun feels on her skin. 

"Would you like another one?"

Wanda looks at the waitress with a smile and shakes her head. She's here every day and usually has two cups leisurely. 

But not today.

"No, thank you," Wanda answers politely and pulls out some cash, giving her usual waitress a generous tip. 

The waitress thanks her and leaves. Wanda stays a second longer, waiting and taking in the view. 

There's a loud car door slamming, and a woman gets out and moves to the sidewalk.

"For the last time," an exasperated voice groans. "It's over! How many times do I have to say it? Stop following me! You can’t just show up here because you know I walk through here every day."

"How can it be over? Everything has been going well for the last year! What changed?"

Wanda watches you groan.

"I don't know! I just don't see a future with you," you tap your foot impatiently. "Now stop following me around, I have shit to do and you're constantly making me late. Just—stop."

You turn to leave, but the woman grabs your arm, and Wanda stands up, pulling her hat closer to her head as she crosses the street. 

Each step feels like she's getting closer to your silhouette, and the thin veil separating the two of you slowly disappears.

Wanda pushes and pushes against the veil until—

"You're hurting her."

The two of you look over to Wanda, and you stare at her for a long moment.

"Stay out of this," the woman glares at Wanda. "It's none of your business."

"It is my business," Wanda says simply. "I'm a good person."

"Are you trying to say I'm not?" The woman snaps.

"Yes, if you keep holding her arm hostage."

The woman immediately drops your arm, and you rub the spot she held, moving away.

"Leave," Wanda glares, and the woman is about to say something else, but the flash of Wanda's red eyes startles her, and she's quick to turn and walk back to her car.

The two of you watch the car drive away, and Wanda turns back to you, and you stare at her curiously.

"Have we met before?" You blink with a tilt of your head.

Wanda smiles. "Maybe in another universe."

You snort. "Smooth," you grin at her. "Thanks for that by the way."

You introduce yourself, and Wanda takes your hand.

Something electric passes through your arm, and you lick your lips.

"I'm Wanda."

You keep holding her hand, pensively looking at the woman before you.

"Can I treat you to a cookie ice cream sandwich as thanks? There's a great place nearby that does the best cookies," you gush.

Wanda nods but grins at you. "Sure, but I can make better ones."

"Really?" You look skeptical. "That's a bold statement."

"I've been told my cookies are the best in the world."

You laugh with a shake of your head as you let go of Wanda's hand and walk with her trailing beside you.

"I'll hold you to that."

[smalls-words]

Lights, Camera, Action!

Summary: Breakdowns are no mother’s favourite thing, but with a child like you, your moms know just what to do.

Pairings: Ma!Natasha x Fem!Autistic!Reader, Mama!Wanda x Fem!Autistic!Reader, Wanda x Natasha (married), Uncle!Pietro x Niece!Reader.

Warnings: Meltdowns, unsolicited touch, men, brief talk of Natasha’s defection.

Requested: YES/no

Words: 2,329

A/N - I am not autistic, but I do have friends on Tumblr and off of Tumblr that are, and I have had to help them through meltdowns and breakdowns, so I put some of my own stuff in here! I also wanted to fit two requests into this one-shot, which are linked here and here. 

credit to beautiful piece of art - jaylerdoodles

You were just a toddler when Natasha found you outside of Dreykov’s office. You couldn’t have been more than a year or two old, crying and crying and crying as you sat on the curb with your fluffy jacket. She looked at her driver, a SHIELD agent, and she darted out of the car to grab you. 

She sprinted back in and gave Clint the all-clear, watching the building go up in flames whilst she was driven away. She lightly rocked you in her arms and you soon calmed down, opening your bright and wondering eyes to instantly trap her in your love.

You grew within SHIELD, following your mother wherever she went with deadly accuracy and an irresistible charm, using the Red Room’s teachings for good, not evil. However, she quickly noticed how you would react to light, certain rooms with faint but constant noises and loud music. She had you tested by a SHIELD professional and they diagnosed you with autism and a sensory processing disorder - and even when you thought Natasha would leave you, she didn’t.

Eventually, time passed and you watched Natasha fall in love with a Sokovian woman named Wanda. She instantly took a liking to you and you to her, spending time with her to watch movies and distract her from the daunting events of Sokovia.

Of course, you also loved spending time with your Uncle Pietro, but you preferred your moms over everybody else. 

Right now, you were with him and waiting for Natasha and Wanda to return from a mission. He had sat you down next to him as you watched one of your favourite movies, the screen dimmed by FRIDAY whilst the music wasn’t too loud to set you off. Everything was perfect, until sirens started blaring above you. 

“Incoming medical requirements. Mrs Romanoff and Mrs Maximoff require medical attention.” 

You covered your ears and Pietro quickly sped to grab your noise-cancelling headphones, a gift from Tony for your 15th birthday a few weeks ago that he worked on tirelessly until they were completely cancelling. Instantly, your world fell into silence as you watched your moms stumble in, kneeling in front of you.

You looked at them with confusion before Natasha began to sign to you. ‘Are you okay?’ 

“ ‘M okay.” You murmured, noticing the doctors coming towards them.

Each of them had a variety of gashes across their body whilst their faces were covered in soot, a small cut to Wanda’s eyebrow that you instantly reached out to touch. Wanda held still and you pressed against it, but she didn’t wince.

‘Honey, has Pietro made you dinner?’ Natasha asked. 

You nodded and held still as Wanda’s magic seeped into your mind, connecting yours to theirs. *We’ll be back soon and then we can finish watching your movie.* Wanda smiled, kissing your forehead softly as she stood.

Natasha hesitated as she saw your eyes follow them, taking your hand and bringing you along as they sat in the infirmary. They each had a doctor working on their wounds, applying bandages whilst your moms held your hands. You liked having their hands in yours, the pads of their thumbs gentle across your skin. 

*Y/N, would you like to go and set up the movie?* Wanda questioned, noticing your mind was on it.

*No thank you.* You answered, waiting patiently with them.

Natasha and Wanda glanced at each other before the doctors discharged them, leading you back to the lounge room where you saw Tony, Steve and Pietro sitting on the couch. 

You watched as Wanda and Pietro conversed before the remote settled into your hands with a few red wisps around it. Natasha knelt in front of you and you eyed her hands as they raised to your ears, giving you a soft smile before she took your headphones off. 

“You’re okay.” She cooed, turning off your headphones as she sat down on the couch. 

Steve immediately sat on the couch chair as Wanda and Natasha took his spot, with Tony saying goodnight whilst Pietro sat on the other end of the couch. You pressed play on your movie and FRIDAY set your preferred settings once more. 

After a while, Wanda and Natasha noticed how you had fallen asleep, curled up into them. The two women who never thought they would feel love found it in each other, but most importantly, they found it in you. 

----

A few days later, your moms had healed completely and Tony decided a celebration was in order for the successful mission. Natasha and Wanda gave him a long list of requirements because they wanted you there celebrating with them, so they would do everything in their power to make it happen.

“Music has to be no louder than a conversation, lights can’t be more than 50%, and nobody touches her but us, you and Pietro. Got it?” Natasha asked him.

“FRIDAY, make those adjustments.” He spoke out to the room, watching as everything was set up nicely. 

Wanda and Natasha made their way up to your room as guests started arriving, watching as you slipped your nice silk shirt over your head before clasping a necklace with a combined charm of your mothers’ symbols. 

“Are you ready, munchkin?” Natasha smiled at you and you nodded weakly, alerting her.

She walked over and sat next to you, with Wanda doing the same, and she took your hand in hers. She pressed her thumb into your palm and watched you slowly calm down.

“Y/N, you are our precious little girl. We have made sure that everything is perfect for you and Tony even made you something.” Wanda’s hand glowed before a box appeared in her hand.

She took one of the small chips and pressed them against the skin behind your ear, with Natasha doing the same on your other side. 

“These are nanite headphones that you can wear if things get too loud, and you just press them to make them come out. They’re mostly invisible but Wanda’s magic allows her to be able to see them.” Natasha explained.

You nodded and took a deep breath, taking Natasha’s hand fully as she led you out to the party. The volume was minimal and you kind of liked it, holding your mother’s hand as you went down the stairs. 

You sat by the bar as she worked, serving drinks for the guests and kissed Wanda whenever she came over whilst the Sokovian mother always checked in on you. She didn’t show it, but there was a shield around you whenever somebody got too close, pushing them away subtly. 

“Good evening, kiddo. Shouldn’t you be at home, doing some colouring or some shit?” A man asked you, putting his hand on your shoulder.

“Please don’t touch me.” You stated, sipping on your apple juice that Natasha had poured.

“Fair enough.” He backed off, sitting down next to you.

“Please go away.” 

“What? I can’t have a drink and a chat with a kid?” He scoffed.

You pressed lightly on your headphones and they melted over, silencing the room and him for a few moments before he put his hand back on your shoulder. You could read his lips, his argument of you ignoring him going nowhere, and you desperately felt the need to leave. 

Without blinking, you watched a red tendril snake around his arm to his hand, peeling each of his fingers off of you. You felt a familiar hand come to rest on the base of your back and the man was shoved off of his chair by a red force.

*Malen’kiy (little one), you may remove your headphones if you’d like. I’ve made him quiet.* Wanda reported in your mind and you did.

“Why are you touching my daughter when she has asked you not to do so?” She glared at the man.

“I just…” He trailed off, realising his voice was reduced to a whisper. 

“You were just…?” 

“Being an asshole.” Natasha stepped in front of you and shot a Widow Bite at him, making him spasm on the floor.

“Everybody listen up!” Wanda yelled, muffling the sound for your ears.

“If anyone touches Y/N Romanoff-Maximoff, you will face a fate much worse than death.” 

“You will face us.” Natasha growled, turning back to see your hands start to flap.

“Y/N, Y/N, honey, look at Mama.” Wanda cooed, bringing your eyes to hers.

“Deep breaths, pumpkin. In for four, out for four. You can do it, you’ve done it before, I believe in you.” 

You tried, you really did, but everything overwhelmed you. The music sounded like a cacophony in your ears, the lights blinded you and everyone’s voices tipped you over the edge.

“Mama.” You whined, looking up at them both. 

“Mama, Mama, Mama…” Your breathing turned into hyperventilating and before you knew it, everything stopped.

The bar turned into your room, the darkness helping your light sensitivity calm whilst the sound disappeared. You felt pressure surrounding you and you fell back into your mind, seeing red magic swirl around your body and holding you tightly.

“Easy, my little girl.” Natasha cooed, cupping your cheeks before she wrapped you in a tight hug.

You hugged her back, letting the tears fall as you clung to her suit. You heard the soft twinkling of your other mother’s magic before the pressure surrounding you increased, Wanda’s soft hands tickling the skin of your cheeks.

“We’ve got you, honey. We always will.” She assured you, feeling your mind calm further and further.

After about half an hour of constant pressure, you felt the change in your mind snap and you pushed against your moms, who instantly let go and let you move around the bed.

“I’m sorry for ruining the party. I’m sorry for disappointing you and I’m sorry for being a wreck.” You sniffled, only for them both to come into your vision and shush you.

“No, Y/N, you could never disappoint us. And you are not a wreck - you work differently to others. You are a brilliant artist and such a smart girl.” Wanda smiled tearily, hating the fact that you doubted yourself. 

“Remember when you painted Mama that really nice sunset?” Natasha grinned, distracting your mind even if for a moment.

“Yeah.” You murmured happily.

“It was so pretty… And it was the anniversary of Oma and Opa’s deaths.” 

Wanda nodded, her lips breaking into a toothy grin. “That’s right, fetita mea (my baby girl). Do you remember what you said?” 

“Oma and Opa were there that sunset.” You smiled, hugging Wanda tightly.

“Thank you, Mama. Thank you, Ma.” You muffled against her shirt, making her smile as she tickled her nails up and down your spine.

“Would you like to go to sleep, Y/N?” Natasha asked, tucking a few loose pieces of hair away from your beautiful face.

You nodded and let them tuck you in after changing out of your party clothes, holding tightly onto a stuffed pillow Tony designed to have their insignias on both sides. 

“It's okay. You did well. Rely on me, let me handle the rest for you.” Natasha cooed. 

You closed your eyes as you felt your moms kiss your forehead softly, the door about to close before you piped up.

“Love you, Mamas.” 

They grinned, opening the door briefly to see you smiling. “Goodnight, Y/N.” They blew you a kiss each before the door closed, leaving you in the comfortable darkness and quiet of your room. 

Wanda and Natasha only spoke as they got to the end of the hall, with FRIDAY’s confirmation of the airtight seal in your room. 

“What are you planning?” Wanda asked, taking her wife’s fist into both of her hands.

“I am going to kill him for touching our baby.” The Widow hissed, her Russian accent pulling out from underneath her mask.

Wanda shook her head. “No. No, you are not going to kill him because you are better than that, you are better than him. You are not a god, Natasha Romanoff. You are my wife, you are Y/N’s mother, and you are an Avenger. Yes, he is a scoundrel, but fate will guide him on his doomed path.”

She kissed the very ring she put on Natasha’s finger before she cupped her cheeks and they touched foreheads. “Who are you?” 

Natasha took a few deep breaths before pulling Wanda in by her waist, keeping their foreheads together. “Yours.” 

“Good. Now, let’s go and save some food for Y/N tomorrow. No seafood, and nothing too squishy.” Wanda kissed her softly.

Natasha grinned before Wanda sprinted down the hallway, enticing her wife to chase her but she heard a door creak open behind her. She turned around and saw you, yawning as you walked down to her with your favourite water bottle, empty. 

“Ma…?” You asked, holding it out to her.

“Of course I can refill your water bottle, baby.” She kissed your forehead and walked you to the bathroom, filling it for you before she took you back to bed and tucked you in once more.

“Stay.” You murmured, blindly reaching for her hand since your eyes were closed.

Her heart melted and she gripped your hand, which pulled her onto the bed. She moved up so that you could be close to her heart, gripping onto her shirt whilst you held your stuffed pillow. 

“Lyublyu tebya, Ma. (Love you, Ma.)” You whispered as you fell asleep.

“Ya lyublyu tebya bol'she, moya dragotsennaya malen'kaya devochka. (I love you more, my precious little girl.)” She cooed, kissing your temple softly.

She smirked as she felt a prod against her mind. *You are so lucky that she’s your reason for not helping me.* 

*I love you too, Wanda.* 

*I know you do.* 

Natasha chuckled and closed her eyes, relishing in the fact that not only had she found love, but in her eyes, she was no longer a monster.

How could she be when she had you?

[post-modern-prometheus]

Lorna [busting the door down]: which one of you bitches want to fight?

Wanda: *stares at her book terrified*

Pietro: *eats his twinkie nervously*

Peter [tying his hair up]: me bitch! So what’s up?

yeah so true they would

[chaosmagicss]

spoilt brat (wanda maximoff x reader)

synopsis: wanda maximoff has a wicked attitude problem, and she’s annoyingly attractive. you hate her, and she hates you. or, well, that’s what you thought.

warnings: countryclub!wanda, enemies to lovers friends with benefits, semi-public sex, almost getting caught, wanda is kinda mean and it’s hot

word count: 4.2k

a/n: i finally got this done, everybody gasped! but um, sorry for not posting for a month, take this as a gift <3

Since you started work at the Stark Country Club last summer, Wanda Maximoff has proven to be a thorn in your side.

You’re really not sure what you did to make the girl dislike you so much. She seems nice enough to everyone else; polite and soft spoken to the other staff members and giggly with all her friends.

Hell, she’d even been nice to you the first time you’d met. It was your third day on the job and you were going around collecting finished glasses when you’d reached her table. When you’d asked if she was done with her drink, Wanda turned to look at you, eyes darting down and back up before she blinked rapidly and cleared her throat. You almost blushed the second you saw her cheeks were tinted red, but instead you just took the glass from her when she handed it to you and offered up a tight smile, trying not to shudder when your fingers brushed as she passed it over.

But then, only a week later, it was like a switch was flipped.

Initially, you dismissed the attitude, thinking maybe she was having an off day. But then the attitude didn’t leave. She took every chance she could to annoy you - one time, she spent a stupid amount of money on mocktails just so you’d have to keep going back and forth from the bar - and she seemed to thoroughly enjoy it.

After a lot of complaining to Kate, who never once copped the brunt of Wanda Maixmoff’s attitude problem, you decided to just match her energy. Each sly comment was met with one of your own, and Wanda only rose to the challenge; she took each and every chance to annoy you, and she was good at it. The people her age who she tended to hang out with – mainly her brother Pietro and Yelena Belova, who Kate had told you was Natasha Romanoff’s sister – just ignored it, rolling their eyes each time you and Wanda ended up in the same space.

The first time you’d ever acknowledged that she was attractive (drop-dead gorgeous), you’d been working the bar with Kate when Wanda had waltzed right up in a dress that was incredibly low cut, and when she leant on the bar, effectively pushing her tits up, you honestly struggled to look away. Thankfully, she’d turned to Kate to order, so her attention had been off you long enough for you to pretend you hadn’t noticed at all when she finally looked in your direction.

You honestly can’t remember what snarky comment she’d made, or your equally as snarky response, but when she’d walked off with as many drinks as she could carry, Kate had turned to you, arms crossed over her chest.

“Y’know, I think you two just need to fuck.”

You’d turned to look at her so fast, you couldn’t believe you didn’t get whiplash. “What?”

Kate had just smiled. “You and Maximoff. There’s, like, tangible sexual tension. That’s probably why you’re at each other’s throats literally all the time.”

“We’re at each other’s throats because she's a bitch,” you’d corrected her sharply. “I don’t want to sleep with her.”

Despite your insistence, Kate was just as stubborn, telling you that it would probably help to “get it out of your system.” It’s been a year of that, now; Kate giving you leading looks almost every time you and Wanda interacted, but she’d yet to get you to even admit out loud that Wanda was attractive. She caught you looking sometimes, but who can blame you? She is attractive. Annoyingly so.

Last summer, somehow, miraculously, you’d managed to not ever cross paths with Wanda when she was at the pool. So, when you’re filling in for lifeguard duty for the afternoon, you find yourself struggling to tear your eyes away from where she’s sunbathing in a tiny bikini. The only reason you’re managing to do so is knowing that, if she caught you watching, you would literally never live it down.

You’re an hour into your shift when Kate shows up, and despite your best efforts, it takes her about ten seconds to notice.

“You’re drooling.”

“I am not,” you shoot back without missing a beat. “Go back to flirting with the Belova girl and leave me alone.”

“I can’t blame you,” Kate says, ignoring your comment, “she has very nice legs.”

Now, you aren’t sure why Kate commenting on Wanda in such a way makes your chest flare with what a more honest person would pinpoint as jealousy, possessiveness, even, but you sure as hell don’t like it.

You roll your eyes, settle back in the lifeguard seat. “She looks good in a bikini,” you mutter dismissively, “so what?” Kate’s about to say something when you catch a kid running, so immediately you blow on your whistle. “Hey, no running! You’ll get hurt!”

He immediately slows to a brisk walk. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Kate slaps your arm. “Alright, Miss Lifeguard, I’ll leave you alone now. Happy perving.” You shoot her a look, and Kate grins, turning on her heel and walking away with her hands clasped behind her back in faux innocence.

“Tell Yelena I said hi!”

“I would, but she doesn’t like you.”

You scoff, turning back to the pool, and as always, your eyes seem to be drawn to a certain brunette. Your gaze tracks up her legs, over her taut stomach, her breasts, and then, finally her face. Where you expect to find her eyes closed, face smoothed over as she relaxes by the pool, instead you find her looking right back at you, sunglasses perched atop her head.

You watch a smirk curl up one corner of her mouth, and she lifts her hand to waggle her fingers in a wave. You roll your eyes, shaking your head as you look away from her.

-

The heavy door shoulders open with a creak, and you sigh quietly at the sheer abundance of used shower-towels sitting on the racks. It’s times like these you curse the popularity of Stark’s Country Club in the summer. You do your best to avoid the bigger pools of water accumulating on the tiles as you begrudgingly pull the towels into your basket.

Today has been a nightmare, to say the least. You had a god-awful sleep last night, your bus ran late this morning, you dropped a cocktail down your shirt during the midday rush and thus had to borrow one that was a size too small, and all you could think about was getting back to your apartment and sleeping for at least fourteen hours.

Bed, you keep promising yourself. Sleep.

All you have to do is check every shower room on this side of the grounds for used towels. And you were on your last one. It was fine.

“Oh, don’t tell me they’ve downgraded you to the bathroom cleaner.”

God, today couldn’t get any worse. You roll your eyes to the heavens, putting down the basket full of used towels with a little more force than necessary so you can start adding the ones on the last rack onto the pile.

“No, Maximoff, I’m on towel duty.”

“Oh, well, in that case… Hold this for me, will you?”

You turn to look at her, confused as to what she means, and almost choke on your own tongue when you finally see her. She’s holding out a towel, sure, but it’s hard to focus on that when she’s in a still-wet bikini, the white fabric sticking to her skin in all the right places, covered by nothing but a flimsy floral beach cover up. It’s a test of willpower to tear your eyes away from the water droplets rolling down her chest and between the valley of her breasts, but you manage. Barely.

“Oh, come on, have you forgotten how to take things from people?”

You dart your eyes back up to her face, glowering. Wanda’s lips twitch in amusement, probably at the blush you can feel rising to your cheeks. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure you need a towel for after your shower,” you say dryly.

Wanda chuckles, dropping her arm to hold the towel herself. “What’s got you all riled up?”

You sigh, pulling the last towel from the rack. “I’m not in the mood for this,” you mutter, to yourself more than anything.

She tilts her head, eyes you up and down very obviously, and you feel it like she’d touched you. “Well, what are you in the mood for, then?”

You clench your jaw, do your damndest not to blush again at the implication. “Something much more relaxing than a conversation with you,” you snark, and Wanda clicks her tongue, takes a step closer. You straighten your spine just to gain that extra bit of height, and Wanda blinks up at you as she reaches up with her spare hand, dragging her nails featherlight over your arm.

“I know a way you can relax,” she murmurs, and despite your efforts, your body starts to betray you; your heart skips, your stomach tightens, your skin burns where she touches you. “Or get out your frustrations; either works for me.”

Your eyes dart to her lips like a magnet, and you can feel yourself softening under her delicate touches and sultry tone. Kate’s voice echoes in your skull - Get it out of your system - and for once, you let yourself actually consider it. You lift your gaze back to hers, and her face shifts; her lips curl into a smirk, eyes twinkling in amusement. You roll your eyes, pull away from her.

“God, you’re the worst.”

“Aw, don’t be like that!” Wanda laughs, stepping after you as you move over to the other rack of towels. “I was just messing with you.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t funny,” you say flatly, hardly looking at her. “Grow up a little, huh?”

You pick up the basket and move to step past her, to drop these off where they need to be dropped off so you can clock off and just go home, when Wanda’s smile drops and her hand darts out to catch your arm.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” she says sharply.

You give her a look. “Or what?”

Her jaw flexes, eyes flashing with anger. “You can be a real dick, you know that?”

“Pot callin’ the kettle black, Maximoff.” She doesn’t bite back at you, having lost your little spat, but her gaze doesn’t fall from yours, ever so stubborn. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go do this thing called a job.”

You watch her drop her towel from the corner of your eye, and then a hand curls into the front of your shirt, and before you can blink, Wanda’s kissing you so hard it hurts.

Wanda. Kissing you. Hard.

Her grip on your shirt is unrelenting, keeping you close as her other hand slides around to the nape of your neck. You should pull away, if only to maintain your pride, but all you can really think about is how great of a kisser she is and how good her mouth feels against your own. So when Wanda pulls back for air, eyes opening to find yours and gauge your reaction, you just smother a smile.

“I’d like to note that you kissed me—”

Wanda huffs, cheeks red, and mumbles, “Shh,” pulls you back in. This time, you put your hands on her bare waist and tug her closer, pulling her flush against you as she licks into your mouth, arms winding around your neck.

In between kisses, you mumble a, “Just wanna make sure it’s crystal clear—”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

She leans in again, kissing you in a way that makes you dizzy, her hands up in your hair. She tastes like peach chapstick and cherry coke, and it’s addicting. You squeeze her waist, and when she lets out a pleased sigh, suddenly all you can think about is the other kind of sounds you can pull from her.

Your body starts to move on autopilot.

“You still wanna help me relax?” you mumble, leaning your hips back from hers just enough to compensate for the hand that moves from her waist to brush over her tummy, and then down, beneath the hem of her swimmer bottoms.

“Fuck!” Wanda hisses, knees wobbling at the first touch of your fingers. Your own breath catches when you find her already slick and wanting, arousal coiling tight in your stomach as you run your fingers through her folds. She breaks away from your mouth to suck in air when your fingers find her clit, running slow, deliberate circles over the sensitive nub. “Jesus,” she gasps, “you’re an asshole.”

You smirk, eyes glued to her face as it twists in pleasure. “And you’re soaked, princess.”

Wanda makes a breathy little noise, hands flying up to grab at your shoulders to keep herself upright. You scoff a pitying laugh, watch Wanda’s cheeks flush as she pries her eyes open to look at you.

“Look at you,” you murmur, “I’ve barely touched you, and you’re already a mess.”

“Fuck off,” she spits, but the breathiness in her voice makes the insult fall short.

“Aw, that’s not very nice,” you say. “You want me to stop, princess?”

Her grip on you tightens at the words, perfectly manicured nails digging threateningly into your shoulders. “Don’t you dare.”

Now, you’re a simple woman. If you have an opportunity to piss Wanda Maxmioff off, you’re going to take it.

You pull your hand free and take a step back, watching Wanda gasp at the loss, swaying a little as she blinks at you. Her thighs press together, chest heaving as she catches up to what just happened.

“Oops,” you say.

Wanda clenches her jaw, eyes flicking down, and when she takes a step to close the distance between you and reaches for your wrist, curiosity gets the best of you, so you let her do as she pleases. She pulls your hand up, up, up, and catching your eyes, sucks your slick fingers into her mouth.

How your knees don’t buckle immediately is beyond you, truly. The arousal that pangs down your spine must be poorly hidden on your face, because Wanda smirks around your fingers and then, as she closes her eyes, tongue flicking between your fingers, lets out a drawn-out little moan.

You want to ruin her.

She lets your fingers go with a pop. “I want you to fuck me,” she says softly, in this faux innocent tone that has your mind spinning. She guides your hand back between her legs, and you cup her covered sex, watching her eyes flutter. “If you don’t, I’m just going to have to go home and think about you while I take care of myself, and that’s just getting boring.”

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. “Boring?” you say clumsily. “D’you do it often?”

Wanda nods, teeth catching on her bottom lip, her free hand finding your belt to tug gently as she leans in close. “I can show you pictures, if you’d like,” she whispers. “I get so wet.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out, and you can feel Wanda’s grin as you catch her mouth in yours. You grip her waist before sliding your hands around, and when you take two handfuls of her ass to pull her closer, Wanda moans.

“Showers,” she gasps. “Showers, now.”

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely,” you mutter, separating from her to pull her into the last shower stall nonetheless. You press her into the wall and kiss her again, fumbling to turn on the water, and Wanda makes a confused noise against your mouth as the spray hits your ankles. Luckily, the stalls are big enough that you won’t get your clothes wet, but you couldn’t say the same for your worn-in sneakers. Not that you cares. Not when they’re being sacrificed for this.

You trail heated kisses along her jaw and down her throat. “Don’t trust you to keep quiet,” you explain. “You don’t wanna get caught, do you?”

A hand sinks into your hair, tugging roughly enough that you look up at her, and you find her with flushed cheeks and a determined look in her eye. “You don’t think I can keep quiet?”

You grin, fingers hooking into the hem of her swimmer bottoms and tugging them down until they pool around her ankles. “No,” you say, “not really.”

Wanda’s jaw clenches. “Anyone ever told you you’re cocky?”

You chuckle, cupping between her legs and thoroughly enjoying the way she jolts at the touch. “No, they’re usually too busy enjoying themselves.”

Wanda starts to roll her eyes, but cuts herself off with a moan when you slide two fingers into her. A hand curls into your shirt, fingers twisting into the fabric in an attempt to keep herself upright. You grin.

“That feel good, does it?”

Wanda groans, eyes fluttering open to find yours as you start a steady pace. She cups your jaw, pulling you in close. “Shut up and fuck me.”

As you work her up, kissing her deep and filthy as she struggles to keep up, her nails digging into the hard bone of your jaw, Wanda tries dutifully to maintain her pride and keep quiet; it’s a shocker she hasn’t bit her bottom lip raw yet, every moan and sigh that threatens to come out muffled into a small hum instead.

“Come on, princess,” you coo softly, curling your fingers in search of that spongy spot inside her. “Wanna hear you.”

Her chest staggers, and she shakes her head, opening her eyes to catch yours. So damn stubborn. “Ass-hole,” she says pointedly.

You click your tongue, free hand grabbing under her thigh and pulling it up to your hip, giving you better access between her legs. Your fingers slip in deeper, and you swipe your thumb over her clit, and apparently that’s all it takes. Wanda moans, high pitched and whiny, and you grin, doubling your efforts.

“There you go, pretty girl.”

“Y/N,” she whimpers, nails digging into the nape of your neck, her walls fluttering around your fingers.

You hum, leaning in close to press kisses to her jaw until you reach her lips. “Wanna come, princess?”

“Yeah,” she gasps against your mouth. “Make me come. Please. Please.”

You’re about to bury your face in the crook of her neck and fuck her fast and hard until she comes when you hear the telltale creak of the door opening. Wanda, lost in the feeling of being fucked so thoroughly, doesn’t notice, and you have to clap your hand over her mouth to muffle the whine she almost lets out.

Her eyes shoot open, brows furrowing as your fingers slow, but you just give her a crooked grin and whisper, “Shh…”

A moment later, there’s a small sigh from outside the shower stall, and realisation dawns on Wanda’s face.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but showers are supposed to be closed for the day.” You almost let out a sigh of relief at the voice - it’s Angie, a 50-something who is probably the biggest, most unassuming sweetheart you’ve ever met. Still, Wanda’s eyes widen in a panic; you just move your hand and mouth, Answer. There’s a few footsteps, and then a concerned, “Ma’am, is everything alright?”

“Yes, sorry!” Wanda says, voice just a tad uneven; you twist your fingers just to watch her squirm, and squirm she does. Her fingers tighten warningly in your hair. “I’ll - I’ll be out in a moment.”

“That’s alright, dear. Just leave your towel on the rack and I’ll send someone to come grab it in about twenty minutes.”

“Okay,” Wanda manages as you duck your head to suck on her neck. “Thank you.”

The moment Angie is gone, the squeaky door closed behind her, you lift your head to kiss her, hard and rough. Wanda moans when you start to fuck her again, failing to meet your kisses as she focuses completely on rocking her hips into your hand.

“You fucking loved that, didn’t you?” you growl, pulling back to look at her. You’d thought she was pretty before, sure, but now, with her face flushed and lips kiss-swollen, she’s fucking breathtaking. At your words, she opens her eyes, letting out a broken little moan when she meets your gaze. “You want someone to catch us like this? Catch me fucking you, pretty girl?”

Her eyes wrench shut as a new wave of wetness soaks your hand, head tipping forward. You tsk, wrapping a hand around her throat to pick her head back up. “Uh-uh, angel, eyes on me.”

“Fuck,” she gasps, fighting to keep her eyes open, “‘m gonna come.”

“Yeah? You gonna come?”

She nods, eyes squeezing shut, and the second you swipe your thumb over her clit, she’s toppling over the edge. You muffle her unabashedly loud moans with your mouth, knowing full well that anyone who happens to walk by could definitely hear her otherwise. When she’s stopped twitching, you slide out of her, smiling at the disapproving whine she lets out. You let her leg down as she starts to lazily match your kisses, grabbing her waist when she wobbles a little.

“Holy shit,” she breathes out once you’ve moved your kisses to her neck. You hum quietly, pressing your body closer to hers, sliding a leg between her own. She gasps softly at the touch, but immediately winds a leg around your own.

“Told you you couldn’t keep quiet,” you snark, nipping at the sharp curve of her jaw. Wanda huffs a laugh, pushing at your chest and dragging a laugh out of you before tugging you back before you could get too far from her. She pulls you in for another kiss, this one so slow and deep that it turns your brain to mush in an instant. “Next time, we’ll go somewhere more private so you can be as loud as you want. How’s that sound, angel?”

“Next time?” Wanda asks breathlessly as she pulls back, grinning. “What makes you think there’s gonna be a next time?”

You smile, smug as you lift a hand to pull her lip free from where she’s trapped it on her teeth. “Act like you hate me all you want, Maximoff, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re soaking my pants like a slut.”

Her pupils dilate, a shaky exhale leaving her at the crass words, and you take that as a confirmation that there will certainly be a next time.

-

Two weeks later, there have been many next times.

A few days after your first… encounter, Wanda had practically jumped you while you were in the middle of bringing a bag of golf clubs back to the service desk, dragging you into a storage closet. It was the first time you’d seen her since, and it was a little jarring—disappointing—to realise that she looked annoyed.

Your worries had been swiftly forgotten when she kissed you and practically forced you onto your knees, muttering about how she couldn’t stop imagining how your mouth would feel on her as she flipped up her skirt. Needless to say, you’d gotten her off with your tongue despite the fact that you were at work—you’d have been stupid to deny a needy Wanda Maximoff.

That encounter had led to you inviting her to your apartment after your shift, and since then, the sex had been regular. You’re trying not to get so caught up in it, because it’s casual and fun and you’re genuinely enjoying yourself and her company, but you sort of can’t ignore the occasional flutter in your tummy or the way you catch her looking at you sometimes.

But for now, it’s your own little secret, and you’re happy with it being just that for the meanwhile.

Kate has noticed the lack of hostility between the two of you—she was right, of course, about it all being pent up sexual tension, but you’re not about to tell her that—and you’ve simply brushed it off as not being bothered anymore anytime she’s asked. If she suspects anything more, she hasn’t told you, but you really don’t think she does.

Well, until one fateful Saturday afternoon.

You and Kate are both on shift at the restaurant, and by the time you’re doing your final rounds, Wanda and Yelena have finished their drinks and the shared bowl of sweet potato fries they’ve been munching on for the last hour. It’s the last table you go to, balancing a tray topped with a handful of glasses and plates from other tables.

Wanda’s eyes flick to yours as you approach, eyes lighting up a little as she realises it’s you, and the sight warms your chest. You swallow dryly. “You done with that?” you ask, motioning towards her empty glass. She smiles a little, more a knowing smirk than anything, and picks up both her and Yelena’s glasses to hand it over.

“Yes, thank you,” she says.

You nod as you take it, doing your best not to have a visible physical reaction when your fingers brush hers during the handover. You swallow, avert your eyes, and start to reach for the empty jug in the middle of the table just as Kate joins you to grab the plates.

Your eyes flick to the blonde at the table, both to give her a polite little smile and gauge her reaction to Kate’s presence, to find her watching you closely. As your fingers curl around the handle of the jug, you try not to feel too intimidated by her rather intimidating stare.

Then, her face splits into a grin, and her eyes dart to Wanda.

“Did you two finally fuck?”

[imperiuswrecked]

Wanda and Pietro's first Valentine's day in the Avengers:

Wanda: Oh my Pietro look at all these Valentines! The Americans sure do have strange customs. Look this one has a cupid's bow and arrow.

Pietro: That's nice Wanda. I'm glad you are enjoying this holiday.

Wanda: It's from Clint.

Pietro: *zooms over to Clint's room* HOW DaRe you?! You keep your arrow to yourself! *strangles Clint*

[tribricies]

[mcuiconsposts]

wanda maixmoff civil war icons part 1

[iconslizzie]

like this post if you save/use. ♡