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wandasmistress · 1 year

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You Belong to Me

Request- Hello :) could you write Wanda x fem!reader where Wanda loves to tease R by flirting with other people and making her jealous so she flirts with Nat and R snaps, making Wanda suck her strap and fucking her in front of Nat to show her who she belongs to?

Synopsis- You and Wanda have been seeing each other officially on the down low. So when she tests you, you must let her know that she is yours, and only yours.

Pairings- Bottom!Wanda Maximoff x Top!Reader

Warnings- 18+ Content

Word Count- 4.4k

A/N- You already know I had to come back just to show some appreciation to Lizzie mf Olsen, happy birthday wife love u forever <3 This has been sitting in my drafts for a while(months), about time I got it out lol.</p>

*this does not mean im off hiatus, I still cant write a single paragraph for shit :(

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It was currently eleven pm and there you sat on the common room's incredibly comfy couch, staring thoughtlessly at the flickering 146” flat screen tv Tony had bought to lure more people into the living space to socialize. But he was wrong, the tv was so large that it managed to captivate everyone’s attention, leaving them astounded by its presence. So there was no real socializing going on except everyone gathering around to be couch potatoes for the next few hours.

At first, all you could do was helplessly stare at the screen, soaking in all the engrossing action-packed scenes and eye-opening visuals that had your mouth agape in awe, until she walked in. Her long deep auburn locks sway in all types of directions from her steady movements, reeling you in and taking your attention away from the attention-grabbing flatscreen instantly. The way her hips perfectly rocked side to side as she took each step closer to where you were, coming to a full stop in front of you while your eyes grazed over every inch of her faultless figure.

Your mouth stayed parted as you sat silently in front of the staggering beauty, staring at her with adoration, you didn't dare blink once afraid of missing an ounce of her alluring presence.

“Hey, Wanda.” You rasped out, taking in an uneven deep breath as you continued to stare.

She knew how you felt about her since you two have been seeing each other on the low for about five months now, fucking each other senseless most nights you caught yourselves alone together. By now you knew every inch of each other bodies but it still amazed her how much of a lovesick fool you acted around her in public.

You both agreed there was no point in telling the others because their maturity level was too low to uphold that type of information anyway, plus the constant teasing and jokes would make both of you insane. But if the team really wanted to know it wouldn't take much to figure out what was going on with all the time you and Wanda spent out of the compound together, talking secretively, eating lunch together almost every day, and always being close to one another. The proof is evident to those who aren't blind.

Wanda didn't respond to your greeting as she took a seat right next to you, awfully too close to your thighs, almost sitting in your lap. You sucked hard on your cheeks to suppress the urge to touch her to the best of your ability. There were others in the room although their eyes were glued to the screen, you still didn’t want to risk it.

Clint passed out straightaway when the movie started to play, he took up the plush velvet loveseat that was basically his from how often he resided there. While Natasha sat on an armchair to the side of the sectional you were currently sitting on. She was in your line of sight, her legs hanging from the armrests as she intently stared at the flashing screen, unbothered by the both of you.

“Hi,” Wanda answered simply with rosy cheeks, becoming flustered by the way you were staring at her, “what are you watching?”

It took a few moments for you to process what she said and then come up with a response because you were too busy caught in a trance staring at the way her mouth was moving.

“Oh, nothing- I mean just a movie.” You said quickly, your sudden rush in words causing her eyebrows to quark up and a small smirk to form on her lips.

“It seems like the only thing you're watching right now is me, precisely my lips.” She replies with a light chuckle, bathing in your attention.

But all you could do is nod your head subtly, looking off into the distance because of the slight embarrassment you were feeling. Not responding to her as your hand came up to scratch the back of your neck that wasn't itching.

In the next second, she bent down, her face mere inches away from yours as she navigated her mouth to the shell of your ear. “Don’t worry, moya lyubov'. I love it when I make you stutter and act like a fool with just my presence.”

The only answer she receives is a small smile from you and a quick nod. Her stomach doing backflips at the way she has gotten you the noisy, cocky, smart-ass to subdue into a calm and demure version that she adored. She admired every single part about it, the way your eyes would dance around her body sending furtive tingles down her spine, or the way you subtly licked your lips as you locked eyes with her which made her want to jump on you instantly and send kisses down your warm neck that she loved sucking on, dearly.

With her thoughts clouded on the only thing possible for her in this situation, which is kissing you she slowly moves away from your ear and towards your dry lips. A playful smirk appears on her face as she comes forward to capture your lips in a kiss. When she is a second away from taking your lips on you avert your head in the other direction, your lips barely grazing hers. Her eyebrows scrunch together as she takes her head back and looks at you in a baffled mien.

You stiffly get up from your position on the couch and talk to her in a hushed tone while bringing your hand up to her arm, “Come on, you know we can't do that here.”

A small sweet pout finds its way on her face and you quickly look away knowing you won't be able to deny anything she wants if you continue staring at her.

“Your lips were very dry, I wanted to moisturize them for you.” She told you quietly while bringing her hand up to the side of your face so you could look at her again, only then did you catch the disappearing grin held on her face.

But you quickly dismissed her offer, shaking her off. You touched your lips feeling that they were in fact very dry. You gave a quick lick to your lips to tame the dryness, for now, not noticing the way Wanda’s eyes quirked up at the movement. “Well, then I better go get some buttery popcorn to help them.” And you briskly walked off towards the direction of the kitchen not waiting to see Wanda’s reaction. She let out a huff of breath and muttered a fine then sat back on the couch, crossing her arms over her body as she rolled her eyes and looked around the room.

When you came back to your spot on the couch with your arms full of bagged candied junk and a big bucket of popcorn that you drenched in butter, ready to get your hands messy if it meant there was more flavor. You were expecting to see Wanda sitting next to your spot but instead the whole sectional was empty when you picked up your head in confusion that's when you spotted her; in reality them.

There Wanda was, sitting on Natasha’s lap, her position had changed so now she was sitting properly in the chair as Wanda was sitting horizontally on her lap, her legs hanging off the side of the armrest. Your fingers clenched tightly as you squeezed the life out of the candy bags in your fist. Irritation bubbling up inside of you fast, or was it jealousy? You didn't care to figure out which ones it was as you sat down grumpily with a displeased face.

You glanced over to Natasha and Wanda every now and then, seeing the way Nat’s hand was resting too low on Wanda’s back for your liking. Your lip raised in disgust as anger boiled inside of you, all of your focus now on the pair. You turned your head away quickly, rolling your eyes in the process as you glanced back at the screen, a cloud of envy overcoming you. Seeing Natasha be that close to Wanda made your skin crawl, she was yours, not hers, so why was Wanda entertaining that idea with a slick smile on her face,

Wanda could feel you staring daggers into the side of her head and she was enjoying every second of it. It was rare for her to ever see an ounce of jealousy pour out from you but she wanted to try something new for once and see your reaction, and she loved it. From the corner of her eye, she could see how your gaze stayed fixated on her. How your jaw was clenching and unclenching each time Natasha rubbed her backside and gripped her waist a little tighter.

She even made eye contact with you multiple times, staring into your pique-filled irises and she couldn't help but smirk and send a small wave your way, biting her lip to add an extra bit of pettiness because she knew what it did to you. All you could do was look away with a roll of your eyes, their intertwined hands replaying in your mind hundreds of times over, gritting your teeth slowly behind your closed mouth.

You tried to keep your attention on the tv and not on Wanda even though you could hear her snicker and whisper at Natasha every few seconds, the sound of Natasha's laughter adding fuel to the displeasure you were feeling. You sat bitterly munching on the popcorn that you no longer had much enthusiasm for, but it was something that was distracting you for now at least.

When you finished all your snacks and popcorn in record time you continued staring at the glowing screen that was not getting your full attention, your arms crossed with a grudge now accustomed to your face. But it was when a familiar loud muffled laugh reached your ears your head flipped over towards the direction of the disruption, you wished you hadn't turned around because it was an eyesore.

Wanda was chuckling into Natasha’s neck as Natasha’s hand firmly gripped her ass, by this time irritation had fully consumed you long ago and you were just waiting for the breaking point where you went erratic and now was that time.

You abruptly got up from the couch and snatched all your wrappers and empty popcorn bowl, flinging them onto the kitchen counter as you passed it on the way to your room. Your heavy steps thundered in the quiet hallway, followed by a harsh slam of a door. While you were in your room brewing in hatred, Wanda and Natasha had witnessed the sudden outburst that made each of them pause their movements and watch you retreat to your room with hunched shoulders.

A frown came to Wanda’s face when she thought she took it too far, quickly releasing herself from Natasha’s hold and sitting down when you had previously sat, guilt clouding her consciousness as she wrapped herself in her arms. She wanted so badly to go and comfort you but she thought you wouldn't want to see her face so soon after the stunt she pulled. Internally scolding herself for inflicting those images that would have definitely gotten her riled up if she saw you wrapped in Natasha’s arms.

While Wanda was still reprimanding her actions in her head while staring down at her lap she failed to notice you entering back into the common room, concealed in your favorite wool grey blanket. She only noticed your presence when she felt a dip in the couch and your chummy arm wrapped around her shoulders causing her to jump from the abruptness. But when she turned to look she saw a slick smile on your face that made a shiver run down her spine. Her eyes narrowed just slightly as her eyebrows pinched together in perplexity.

She continued to look at you in bewilderment as you squeezed her shoulder with your hand and brought her body closer to yours. She didn't question a thing and went along with the strange behavior you were displaying if it meant that you forgave her for her earlier incautious antics that she deeply regretted. It surprised her greatly when you proceeded to wrap the thick blanket over her body, hiding both your bodies under the large duvet, your familiar scent wafting into her nose. She stiffened in her spot, shoulder tense and mouth tight-lipped. She brought her face back towards the screen and faked interest as she tried to calm herself down from your peculiar behavior.

Then she felt your callous hands slide their way onto her bare thighs, her breath becoming shallow as she started to feel that familiar vibrating pulse that made her shut her eyes tightly and breathe in through her nose deeply. Just like how she knew what her lip-biting did to you, you knew how your touch affected her gravely. You let out a low chuckle into her ear at her reaction that you could never get enough of, tightening your grip on her slightly quivering thigh while your free hand moved the stray hair from the side of her face then sent a soft kiss to her temple.

She let out a soft gasp as her hand unconsciously moved under the blanket toward her heated center. The tension built up too much for her to properly function right now and she had to ease a little of it, at least that's what she told herself. You know exactly what she was doing the moment her arm moved under the blanket, your eyes following it attentively as it stopped above her center, a smug grin overcoming your face. Your hand was quick to move from her thigh and meet her hand at her center.

You clicked your tongue three times to catch her attention and whispered, “Filthy brats like you are always impatient.” You scold her with a sneering tone, biting her earlobe and making her shudder on the spot.

“I’m sorry.” She breathes out, eyes shut as more tension is added.

“It’s a little too late for that, sweetheart.” You hiss into her ear, a small whine releasing from the back of her throat when she feels your fingers rub over her clothed pussy.

“I really am, I really regret it. Please-.” She whispers out to you. Looking you deeply in the eyes, now it’s becoming hard for you to stay mad at her when she gives you that look. Her needy fingers quickly grip yours as she moves them past her pants and thong directly to her clit, “here.” She finishes off by biting her lip tenderly and staring enchantingly into your dour eyes.

You immediately remove your fingers from under her thong and pull it back causing it to snap back onto her aching clit, smiling as you see her close her eyes from the abrupt pleasure she has been longing for.

You bring your mouth impossibly close to her ear and whisper out, “Then you should’ve thought before you acted like such a dirty little slut.” A muffled moan comes from her as you wrap the palm of your hand over her mouth, silencing her.

She squirms in her spot, begging for your fingers to play with her down under again, but she knows she can't be too loud in case she attracts attention and that's what makes the smug smile reappear on your face. When you make eye contact with her, you so badly want to stop the teasing and give her what she so desperately needs when a small pout forms on her precious face while her eyebrows furrow together instantly, but you hold out a little longer.

Everything changes when you hear a loud laugh ring through your ears, disrupting your out-of-control thoughts about all the things you wanted to do to Wanda right now, how your mouth itched to be on every inch of her body. Your head shot towards the irksome sound, your eyes traveling to a very giggly Natasha who was doubling back in laughter.

You started to become infuriated with the way Natasha seemed to keep coming in between you and Wanda and out of anger, your hands squeezed like they normally did when you got too mad and needed to physically expel the energy. What you hadn’t noticed was your hand unconsciously traveling down towards Wanda’s center and encasing it in the palm of your hand, applying harsh pressure when you squeezed your fist.

This caused Wanda to let out a prolonged gruff moan that immediately shut Natasha up, making her head whip toward your direction. A conniving smirk appears on your face when you make eye contact with Natasha whose lips are pressed so tightly together that they form a straight line. While you're too busy reveling in the way Natasha’s confounded face enlightens you, you fail to notice the way her eyes trail to a still Wanda whose head hangs down as she pants with an open mouth while her eyes are pinched shut.

Natasha’s eyes automatically raise at the sight, her head instantly snapped back towards the now not-so-enticing screen attempting to clear her mind of what just happened. Your venomous stare is still on her figure until there is messy panting in your ear, turning over to see Wanda resting her head on your shoulder as she grinds her hips into your still-stiff hand, her movements quenching her thirst for you to give her pleasure.

You decide to indulge in her urges and cup her cunt with such vigorousness that an oncoming moan gets trapped in her throat and her eyes roll to the back of her head in gratification. The next thing she does while she is in this intense moment of nostalgia is bite her bottom lip firmly. Once her plump bottom lip pops out of her pearly white teeth’s grasp you start breathing again.

“Fuck, you’re doing it again.” You groan out. Your other hand snaking up her waist, her trembling figure tucked close to you again, “teasing me like that when you know I can't have you fully.” You conclude which makes her give out a hazy chuckle.

“Who says you can’t?” She whispers back, a little too loud, but you don’t care one bit.

This triggers a ferocious instinct within you when you hear her response and quickly move her hand under the blanket toward your crotch. Her eyes light up at the gesture and she bites the inside of her cheek as she feels a bulge coming from your sweats. Her eyes trail up slowly to yours and she licks her now dry lips, encasing your bulge with her nimble fingers that seemed to fit perfectly around it.

“Suck it.” You burst out quietly, staring her down.

She lets out a laugh in a response to your absurd command but quickly stops when she realizes you weren't joking. Her face drops in all emotion when she realizes you were serious, her eyes shifting around the room to Clint who was, no surprise, still knocked out, and to a tense Natasha. When she looked back at you you were nodding your head for her to do it and that was all it took for her to dive under the blanket swiftly. Her fingers already pulling down at the waistband of your sweats. It caught you off guard how eager she was to do this, but you loved it.

A smug smile sat upon your face at her willingness to do this in front of others, her fingers gripped the false cock as she inserted it in her mouth the next second. Bopping her head up and down, slightly gagging from the pace along with your hand snaking up into her hair and pulling it tightly although not enough to be painful. A quiet moan releases from her lips at the force and she looks up at you from underneath the blanket, through a small crack formed by the blanket. The sight takes your breath away, your lips quivering slightly.

The way she was staring so endearingly at you sent a slight shiver down your back, your hand coming to her chin and pulling up so the strap was no longer in her mouth, she didn't hesitate to obey. She placed her hands on your chest to steady herself while her face was inches away from yours, now out of the blanket.

“Let me kiss those pretty lips of yours.” You whispered softly, your hands finding their place on her hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

Her lips teasingly came closer to yours, when you successfully locked lips you both took your time savoring the taste of each other's lips and not rushing the kiss as it was slowed. Wanda bit your bottom lips so she could have access to your tongue, letting your tongues quarrel together as you held her close.

Your scheming fingers trailed down her spine and towards her plump ass and sneakily went under her pants, passing her thong that held a large damp spot that had spread further up, your hands found her bare ass giving it a tight squeeze. She responded by pressing down harder on your chest, her nails digging through the fabric of your shirt as she tried her best to stifle her moan and you tried your best not to grunt from the pressure.

At the same moment, Wanda’s head found its place under your chin, her strong coconut-scented shampoo wafted into your nose which made you smile more profoundly. You took a few seconds to cherish her warm presence in your arms, and so did she from the way she didn't move out of the embrace.

Wanda’s thong and pants were starting to bother you since they were getting in the way of your hands fully grasping her, so you quickly whispered in her ear, “Take them off.”

Wanda’s head backed up from its place under your chin and she sent a wary glare your way. The pressure from her hands on your chest became lighter and you knew she was questioning if she should really strip, in the common room with others out of all places. But you reassured her as you brought the blanket further up her back for better consolation. She had managed to get out of both her pants and thong in under thirty seconds, surprising you when she returned to give a few sloppy lingering kisses to you while her hips ground down onto you. Making your hands recoil as they came back to her waist

Giving no notice to Wanda you wasted no time in shoving the silicon cock straight into her needy center, inducing a deep muffled moan from the red-headed goddess, and a slight groan from you as she sunk her teeth into your shoulder. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your own center started to be overcome with wetness. Your hips slowly grind up into Wanda’s soaking core, her tight pussy gladly welcoming the thick cock in.

The couch you were both sitting on started to shake violently from your intense deepening thrust that made Wanda see more than a million stars all at once, her eyes shut tight as her mouth hung open. Moans were the last thing to be released from her at the moment as she succumbed to her first climax of the night, you had plenty more to give her from her mischievous acts earlier.

Your hands clung around her waist, sure to leave deep purple marks. She spasmed above you, rigorously moving her hips into you to ride out her high. Your breath got caught in your throat at the sight of the extravagant beauty displayed in front of you, moving your head to the side to catch your breath. Not only did you catch the quick breath you needed but Natasha’s wondering eyes. A cocky smirk appeared on your lips as a single drop of sweat slid down your face to solidify her internal questions.

Eye contact between you and Natasha remained as you kissed the side of Wanda’s sweat-laced temple, Wanda still coming down from her high and attempting to catch her breath at the same time. Her uneven breaths became a soothing melody to your ears as your eyes remained on Natasha. A sadistic feeling clouded over you, telling Natasha that Wanda was yours without uttering a single word.

Your hips wasted no time getting back into action, your thrusts were deeper this time as you continued to stare down Natasha. Wanda practically clung onto you for dear life as her overstimulation made her want to combust then and there. Her futile shaky moans moved you to thrust your hips quicker and harder, making her much more vocal than she would have liked to be in a public setting.

Natasha was all too aghast to look and started to feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise from the uncomfortableness, she wasted no time in staying to listen and watch any longer.

All it took was one second of you turning to look at Wanda as she started to pant your name messily while burying her head into your shoulder. You could feel her perky nipples poking out onto your chest which increased your desire for her even more. But by the time you looked back, there was no sight of the stunned woman, a fiendish smile corrupting your features.

You focused your attention back onto the convulsing woman that held on to you for dear life. Continuing to whisper sweet nothing into her ear as she came down from her second high of the evening, cherishing the way she felt within your grasp. Running your brawny fingers across her back while gripping her enticing curves.

You had enough of your fun for now and wanted to fully admire her behind closed doors where you worked best. “Let’s take this to the room, shall we?” You solemnly murmured in her ear. But she was all out of words as she only nodded against your collarbone and brought her head up to lazily gaze into your adoring eyes.

It took less than five minutes for both of you to be tangled beneath your silk sheets, desires running wild as the fun truly began.

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ceridescent · 1 year

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leviathan of light: martini shot

➛ actress!wanda maximoff x female!reader

summary: wrapping up the film shooting on a heart's day wouldn’t be your ideal course of action if you have plans with your loved ones. and so is a bullet vibrator in you when you're the star of the show. but as long as it's inconspicuous, it's no problem.

tags: bottom!wanda, top!reader, use of sex toy, semi-public, mommy kink, cunninglingus, hair pulling, & brief thigh riding.

word count: 2, 218

author’s note: here it goes!! first part of the series! i hope it's not hot enough you'd burn. :-)

part i of lush ministrations | series masterlist | main masterlist

the paintings adorning the vaulted ceiling, proof of faith and wars, encapsulating the sacrosanct space. the divinity of the cosmic beings, the galvanic echo of every worshiper who ever knelt before the cross, a prayer for every miracle.

the whole crew of leviathan of light have gathered for the final shooting, excited spirits witnesses of the flamboyant setting, and none other than the two main stars — two goddesses molded into human forms, brazening each other accompanied by swords belted at their hips, prepared to swing with one mistake — fulfilling their roles as the camera rolls.

you know a mistake occurs when the director scratches the front of his neck, a blush forming there.

“do you really want me? or is this your way of getting back at my brother..?”

“CUT!”

no one notices the curl of your lip when the director yells the magic word, each and everyone filling the cathedral fixated over the two actors who are now having a small talk — one who provides encouragement, whilst the other spurting genuine apologies. “maximoff! what was that all about…”

“i’m so sorry, william. too much going in my head at-right now. can i take a 10? 15?”

you intently listen to the hollywood star who simultaneously stammers and sighs, bringing her best doe-eyed face; the one that brings her everywhere. you try your best to mask a smirk.

“of course, wanda.” an exchange of an understanding nod with a squeezed shoulder and you’re gritting your teeth, unable to take your sight off wanda’s exhale. pressing the circled button, you hear her faint yelp at the crawling pressure in her, each passing second sending her to hell. no one is supposed to touch her like that.

wanda shuts her eyes tight whilst biting her lower lip, crouching as she grips her sides, causing the clingy man to help her stand, putting his hold around her hips to support her, touching her in places only you could.

an uneasy groan erupts from your throat as you approach both co-workers, veiling your fume with a faux smile. “you okay?” placing your hands above where the director’s are, you tighten your grip around wanda’s waist to pull her over to your side. there’s nothing subtle with how you pushed his body away from her to stray, finalizing the interaction with, “i got her, thanks, william.”

“do you want to rest for a moment?”

miss hollywood nods her head, “yes but, maybe in the dressing room instead? i need-“

“say less, wanda. i’ll take care of you,” mumbling the last part is essential, shielding the exchange to the public eye. you escort wanda into the designated room, your arm possessively clutching her waist as she makes an effort to walk as normally as she does, declining the possible speculation that it’s like there’s something in between her thighs.

“please baby!” wanda maximoff moans the moment you lock the door, pushing you against the nearest wall and latching her lips onto yours. she opens your mouth wide with her fingers, snatching them open, aiming to suck at your upper lip and catching your tongue with hers.

it is rushing and sloppy, wanda pulling everything out of you because she needs you, because you’re the only one who could offer it to her. you’re smug about that, the provocation of wanda’s desperation to have you. with muffling moans and ragged breathing, you wrap your arms around wanda’s neck caressing the back of her hair as she grabs your sides, pulling your body towards her to grind on.

a wanton whine escapes her throat, nipping at your lower lip, “please,” shock overwhelming her she bites your lip hard it bleeds. she licks it clean, and then swirls her tongue with yours, tasting the copper-metal of your blood. “plea-mmm!” a vibrating hum replaces wanda’s begging, her body quaking at the stimulation, falling over you. her grip tightens as another pulls at your hair. “let mommy come, baby-“

“hush, stay quiet. come here,” you prod sharply as you guide her face with your free hand and lock her lips with yours, an encompassing tender kiss. you allow wanda to hump her clothed pussy against your thigh, the firm grip on your sides never ending. a squeak escapes her when you flip places, pinning her against the wall.

the actress shakes her head and pulls her face towards yours to capture the taste of your swelling lips but you are quick to pull away. you chuckle, “easy tiger,” pushing her shoulder blades to rest against the brick wall. wanda nods her head in defeat, “please, princess…” batting her doe-eyes. you chuckle, shaking your head. “that’s not gonna work with me.”

you breath hotly against her left cheek, “we have to be quick,” licking a stripe of her slender neck as you descend down towards the floor. “yes, baby. please me. please mommy,” wanda whimpers and tilts her head upwards, unbelievably enjoying how you handle her. she shivers as the shift of your hands deals with the buckle of the belt, undoing the zipper of her sponsored leather pants, the constricting clothes liberating her.

you let out a teasing noise, “hmmm,” rubbing your thumb on her clitoris, grinning up at her as it sloshes. “you hear that?” you husk and lick your lips, imitating her desperate nods, batting your eyes innocently. “yeah?”

the actress clamps her teeth to her lower lip to suppress a loud moan threatening to spill your dirty little secret as you insert two fingers in her occupied pussy hole to release the bullet wedged in her ever since 7 in the morning. it’s half past 3 in the afternoon now, and there’s nothing more sensual than a domineering woman having all the patience in the world.

you gasp, fake surprise coating your vicious, addicting face. “look what you were hiding in there, mommy!”

certainly drenched with wanda’s hot cum.

your frolic concludes as the hollywood star pushes your face against her pussy, your reflexes kicking in to lick her clean with your tongue.

“yes!” wanda hisses, grinding herself over to you. forcing her hips to plant themselves against the brick wall, “impatient twat,” you mumble, the vibration reminding the hollywood actress who’s barely keeping it together — hand against her mouth — of the toy nestled inside her warmth on set the whole time. you pocket the toy, bringing both of your hands to focus holding her thighs in place.

you refuse to tease wanda any longer, aware of her sensitive body caused by your amusement. watching the renowned wonder actress (derived from wonder woman) struggle reciting the most basic lines, and then enacting them in awe-striking emotions whilst you play with the remote control’s buttons, purposely pressing the highest setting when she was to do something elaborate. thus why miss hollywood deserves her awaiting release before the whole crew comes knocking down the dressing room.

“all the things i want to do to you…” she heaves as she alternates between caresses on your crown and pulling at your mane. you could only hum, lapping at her juices, drinking her in for your own pleasure. wanda’s hot cum drips straight through your welcoming mouth, the scent of butter and almond filling your nostrils.

flicking the tip of your tongue against the actress’ sensitive nub, you press your thumbs on her fleshy inner thigh, digging your nails into it to form red crescent marks. wanda’s legs quiver at the pain, a loud moan echoing inside the dressing room.

“mommy can’t take it anymore, prin-!” a high-pitched keen comes out and no matter how still she makes herself to be you know she can’t prolong it any longer. “do it for me then.”

being stared at by someone above you — beneath you — is a privilege so thrilling you’d be nailed at the cross for it. notably by the most gorgeous actress of the nation, wanda maximoff desperate to rut into your mouth. a moan can’t be helped, the brief cherished moment of having the biggest star — revered by many, applauded by the entirety of the land — her sweet and tangy, her slick and leaking cum.

your scalp burns from wanda’s fingernails scraping you as you fulfill your duty of satiating her, the warmth of her pussy slipping off your lips. you protest with a cry, latching your mouth back in her pussy, throbbing she is, sucking her clitoris getting to the pulse, quicker and quicker coming undone.

“mommy, mmm”

“come on, come on princess,” wanda encourages you, sucking her hard and wanton, the thought of her coming in your mouth is so intense the need becomes primal. “fuck, mommy, fuckkk,” your muffled curses sends wanda over the edge—

she’s riding your face now, your head bobbing up and down at the movement, every sip and slurp messing your face. incoherent promises and assurances coaxes out of her awful, dirty mouth, coming apart onto you.

wanda maximoff, professional as she is, typically an expert in keeping herself hushed in public spaces, especially on set in the middle of the day, howls blatantly like a wolf; hitting her head against the brick wall when she lolled it back, the clutch on your head so airtight you had to pull away from her pussy and bite her thigh. “what the fuck!”

you keep your hands holding her legs because sooner or later she’ll collapse, and you don’t want to be trapped under her.

“we’re never doing this again.”

a breathless chuckle flows out of you, catching your breath as you laid on the floor on your back. you glance across the actress and find her ass sitting on the floor with her back slumped against the naughty brick wall, her pants untucked.

“agreed,” you start now that you’re recovering your breath. “i would’ve teased you more if this wasn’t a quickie.” you stand up with your supporting palms, copying wanda’s position although without the wall.

“you’re dead when i get you home,” she barks, giving you the eye. you tilt your head and give her an eye smile, amused at her habits.

so you do what you know best.

you get on all fours, crawling onto the space in between her spread legs. you get close enough to feel the hitch of her stuttering breath, “i’m not coming into your humble abode then,” biting your lip as you stare at her blown out green obs, down to her lipstick-smudged lips, and back again at her siren eyes.

giggling as you get on your feet by wanda’s desperation to capture your lips again, “how long it’s been?” you leave her hanging, pacing around the dressing room until you find your half-empty apple juice box. you take a long sip, replenishing your system, lounging on the leather chair’s arm closest to the star. “seven.”

“good,” wanda lolls her neck to the side, momentarily closing her eyes. “then i have eight minutes left to ‘take a break’ before i get back on set, empty-handed.”

“that’s funny,” sarcastically, you reply, “i thought it was your pussy that was full.”

“y/n…don’t get started,” she warns, exhaustion and titillation coating her sweet face.

you huff and surrender, putting your arms in the air for great measure, “okay, alright, i’ll stop,” hopping off the leather chair and going over to the vanity mirror. “then we should get you touched up so they wouldn’t notice-“

“y/n?” wanda coughs, the sounds of shifting movement indicate she’s fixing her costume.

“yeah, wanda?” you pick the bobbi brown full coverage face brush and look at her from the far end of the dressing room.

“do you have a date tonight?”

“what,” you chuckle, “you asking me out?”

“o-of course not, cocksure. i was just curious,” her voice drifts and for a moment there’s silence, until wanda rises up from the floor.

“well i’m-“

“never mind i asked. could you send that blue-haired girl here? i have to ask her about the method she uses when she does her foundation trick…”

“let’s get you a touch up first, yeah? there’s no rush.”

“i- of course, just that the time-“

“don’t worry about it, miss hollywood,” you reassure with a tease, squeezing her stiff shoulders as she sits down in front of the vanity mirror. “you’re so flushed, they’d think you’ve ran a marathon,” you chuckle, dabbing the brush onto the finishing powder.

wanda grins, her lust-filled gaze focused on you. “it’s scientifically proven that you burn as many calories when you go to the gym.”

“you dork,” you shake your head, reapplying makeup to return to her fresh, doll-like appearance. “it’s alright,” she whispers, “i’ll just tell them i’ve done 100 push-ups.”

“vouch for me?”

a thick pause allows you to stare at wanda’s still green eyes, her pupils far from dwindling any time soon. it was always like that, anyway. you don’t miss the slight tilt of her head, a signal for her curiosity.

you grin, subtly sultry, mostly taunting. “of course, miss maximoff. you were doing a hundred push ups, while i watched sipping my apple juice, fantasizing on slurping you up instead.”

she slaps your shoulder playfully, “you’re coming home with me! whether you like it or not!”

you wonder whether she’s playing or not by the smile on her face. after sex glow has never looked good on her.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff series #marvel smut #wanda x reader #bottom!wanda

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randomshyperson · 2 years

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High School Sweethearts - Cheerleader!Wanda x Reader [Kinktober]

Summary: The new student captures your attention completely. She's perfect and she's everything you ever wanted.

Warnings: hints of corruption/innocence kink, first kiss, first time, virgin!Wanda, smut, teasing, some edging, fingering, strap-on use, top!reader, high school au | Words: 6.923k

A/N-> My first time writing something of this kink be kind. I'm absorbing the latest episode of She-Hulk yet, someone needs to send Jen hugs.

Kinktober Collection | General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

It was Kate who told you about the new students.

It was Tuesday, and the school was full of burbs all over the hall. You were late and a little irritated because you had argued with your father on the way - Steve Rogers could be many things, and stubborn was most of them. - and so you weren't the least bit interested in the daily gossip that your colleagues might have.

Still, Kate was one of your favorite people and she was so sweet that you didn't have the heart to ignore her attempts to get close during her freshman year, and now, she was a sophomore and you were graduating, and even though you weren't in the same classes, you were inseparable.

"I hear they're the mayor's kids, and Y/N, you have to see, the two of them look like they stepped off a magazine cover." She excitedly narrates her encounter with the new students in the cafeteria. "If they weren't wearing their Avengers High uniforms, I would have mistaken them for models, I swear."

You chuckle, finishing picking up your books and closing your locker.

"Be careful not to drool too much, Bishop. Or your girlfriend will get jealous." You tease, but Kate doesn't laugh, assuming a momentarily fearful expression and looking around to see if Yelena wasn't somewhere listening in on the conversation.

The reaction only makes you laugh harder.

It takes three periods before you finally see the new students. By then, you have heard half the school talking about them, and you know they are twins, and yes, really the mayor's children because Darcy Lewis shows you a picture on her cell phone with the whole family landing in the local paper.

"They're cute, but it's no big deal." You mutter to Kate after looking at the photo, and she and Darcy share a nasal laugh.

"You'll change your mind when you see them in person." Your friend says, looking forward again because Professor Harkness has just entered the room.

Darcy puts her cell phone away, and you sigh, "I highly doubt it, I study with the most beautiful girls in the world, I'm not easy to impress. " You compliment them charmingly and Darcy and Kate laugh softly, rolling their eyes in good humor.

It's not a lie what you said, yet when between the penultimate and last period, a lost-looking girl bumps into you in the hallway, you are momentarily speechless at the greenish irises in front of you.

"Sorry, I didn't see you." She mutters in apology, stooping to grab the book she has knocked over and return it to you.

As you pick it up, you don't let go. "But I did see you. You're the new girl, right?"

She smiles in surprise, hugging her own notebook. "Yeah, that's me. I'm Wanda. We just moved here from New York-"

You raise a hand in the air and Wanda falls silent in confusion, but you smile gently.

"Why don't you tell me that, and whatever you want, over coffee?"

She blushes very hard, opening her mouth a few times before giving a shy laugh. "S-sure, I like coffee."

You move closer and take out the pen attached to her notebook. You take the cap off with your teeth, and Wanda watches the item with hot cheeks the entire time you are pulling out a sheet of paper and writing your number in her notebook.

As you return the pen, you smile at her. "Don't forget to text, I'm dying to know the end of your story." You tell her, offering a gentle nod before leaving.

Wanda sighs loudly, leaning her back on the lockers. A silly smile fills her face, and she stands for a good few minutes trying to understand what just happened and why her legs are so shaky.

–//–

You go out for coffee after class on Thursday, and for thirty whole minutes, you try not to stare at the legs exposed by her cheer skirt.

Wanda is so beautiful it hurts, and her near cluelessness only makes her more attractive.

You clear your throat quietly because she is a really very interesting person and you want to know more about her.

You learn that she was born in Sokovia - which explains her delightful accent that distracts you with every word - and that she moved to New York when her parents divorced. She is the younger twin, but not the sister, as her father has another girl named Lorna who is in middle school. It is also Wanda's first time attending school, and when she says this you widen your eyes slightly.

"Are you kidding me?" You question pushing the coffee creamer with your straw, she laughs lightly.

"No, I swear." She assures you humorously, mimicking your movements without realizing it in her own drink. "My dad is the overprotective type, and Pietro and I have been homeschooled all our lives. But it's senior year and somehow we managed to convince him that it was an important experience. Pietro wants a scholarship for athletics and I, well, I'd like to do cinema."

You smile. "So you like movies?"

Her face lights up even more. "I love movies! I know it's a very competitive industry, but my dream is to work as a film director! I love writing stories, and it would be so amazing to bring them to the screen and... I'm boring you, aren't I?" she interrupts, her cheeks a little red. "Sorry, I get too excited-"

"No, you're not." You interrupt her, "I like hearing you talk, go ahead."

Wanda blushes, even more, lowering her embarrassed gaze to her own lap before smiling shyly.

She tells you more about her dream of being a filmmaker, and about her family not liking the idea of her not pursuing a more secure career, and you make a point of encouraging her to do what she likes and not what others think is right, and Wanda is so flustered she hardly knows how to thank you.

You realize that it is getting late, and if you don't come back now, your father will probably find a new problem to discuss, so you tell Wanda that you have to go. She seems sad about this ending, and yet is still too shy to call you out on anything else. When she builds up the courage to do so, you think your heart won't hold out from all the cuteness.

"We could... I don't know, have tea? Or soda?" She invites clumsily, and you laugh softly just enough to make the redness of her cheeks worse.

Finishing putting on your jacket, you retort:

"I have a better idea, filmmaker girl. Want to go over to the house for Netflix&Chill?"

It's a test or a joke with real intent, and Wanda falls right in.

"Of course! I have like a dozen recommendations, and we could watch something by Kubrick or maybe Burton..."

You bite your lip, you're the one who fell. For her, and it was in the blink of an eye.

"Sure, Wanda, any movie you want." That's what you answer, deciding to keep the not going to be much-watching part to yourself.

–//–

Wanda lived on the edge of Westview, which meant that you could use the subway. But part of you wanted to impress her, so when Bucky let you use his motorcycle, you didn't miss your chance.

"Don't scratch it." He repeated the instructions, the key at face height. You raised your hand to take it, and he lifted the item a little further. "And what's our deal?"

You rolled your eyes. "Three hours out of the house for you to have a date night with my father. I could sue you for the trauma." You joked making him laugh before you managed to steal the key.

"Just text me when you're on your way. And please-"

"No scratches." You completed with an impatient sigh.

While your stepfather had his date night with your dad - whom you were avoiding as much as possible mainly because the deadline for sending admission letters was coming up and you had no idea what you were going to do and didn't want him pressing ideas on you - you made your way across town to see Wanda Maximoff and her stupidly adorable face.

Just as you imagined, she was excited by your arrival on the motorcycle, equally so from Pietro who started asking you questions as soon as you properly introduced yourself, but you noticed that Wanda's father was not too happy.

"You must be Y/N." He said as soon as Wanda guided you to the fancy balcony like all the rest of the house and the well-molded garden.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Maximoff." You spoke, which made him chuckle slightly.

"Actually it's Lehnsherr, Maximoff is their mother's maiden name." He clarified, and you feigned interest, nodding softly.

"Papa, Y/N, and I are going to watch a movie in my room." Said the girl - She was wearing a long sweatshirt and shorts that disappeared with the garment covering it, and you were having a hard time trying to not imagine what it would be like to slide your hand under there.

Erik looked you up and down as if he could read all your naughty intentions at once.

"Open door always, Wanda." He warned with his arms crossed, and Wanda chuckled confusedly, pulling you by the hand toward her bedroom.

You heard Erik ask Pietro questions about you, but your gaze was more attentive to the movement of Wanda's hips leading upstairs.

"Your house is quite beautiful, Wanda." You comment once she leads you into the bedroom. "Not as beautiful as the owner, of course."

She giggles embarrassed at the compliment, and you take the opportunity to kick the door discreetly shut. "Come sit here, I've set everything up for us."

She did, you could see the laptop, the drinks, and the popcorn. A proper movie session with Wanda in her fancy room, and you sighed lightly as you took off your shoes and jacket to sit on the bed next to her.

"What movie did you pick for us, pretty girl?" Your compliments were visually making her flustered, but she still said nothing, adjusting herself on the bed to reach for her laptop. "I was thinking of watching some classic, so I've sorted out some options for us."

She showed you a list that made you smile warmly. All the movies were good, but none had what you wanted to do with Wanda.

"I have a better suggestion, and I'm sure you've never seen this one." You told her as you moved the laptop to your own lap to search. She tried to peek, and you pulled away with a laugh. "No peeking, it's a surprise."

She laughed, shaking her head but holding herself in place. " All right."

"You're Jewish, right?" Your question surprised her a little, but she murmured in agreement the next second. You noticed many things on the way to her room, including the Jewish items that filled the blanks in your head about what you knew about the girl next to you. "Another reason for you to love this movie."

"So mysterious." She murmured humorously getting a soft chuckle from you. Once you had chosen and the start credits began to roll, Wanda bit her lip curiously. "What's it about?"

You crossed your ankles together. "Temptation."

Wanda looked at you. "What?"

"Watch the movie, movie girl." You retorted amused and she chuckled softly before turning her attention back to the screen.

For the first few minutes of Disobedience, Wanda was a little upset. The story is sad in its complexity, and dealt with the fanatical religious obsession of a Jewish community and the harm to the protagonists' freedom. And at first, she didn't catch what the film was really about.

She thought it was sweet that you had brought a movie about her family's religion until the first kissing scene made her cheeks blush.

"Oh, they were a couple..." The words escape you before she can count them, and you lick your lips to contain your own anxiety.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Your whisper is curious in totality, and Wanda laughs in confusion, taking her gaze off the screen.

"What? No, of course not." She retorts, turning her attention back to the film. " They are sweet. I mean, the story is sad as hell, but they're sweet."

You smile, a relief filling your chest. You are about to make a comment when the door opens, and the moody figure of Erik appears.

"I told you I wanted the door open." He reminisces as Wanda pauses the movie.

"Sorry, papa, it must have closed with the wind." She half-heartedly clarifies, and you bite your tongue to hold back the impatient sigh of having your moment interrupted.

"I have a dinner with the Congress people now, I just came to say good night, dear. And please don't delay Miss Rogers' stay here too long, driving late at night is dangerous."

You are about to say you will go as soon as the movie is over when Wanda comments:

"She could sleep here." And Erik hesitates just as you do. Wanda swallows dryly. "If you want to, of course. What if it's okay with you, papa?"

You have trouble hiding your smile, and Erik looks ready to make up an excuse when his cell phone rings. He sighs impatiently.

"Sure, we have a guest room. Good night to you." He says before answering the phone and leaving the room, talking about work until his voice fades from the distance.

Wanda leaves the movie paused, a confused expression on her face.

"He's acting so weird. This bed is big enough, why would I put you on the other side of the house?"

You stare at her and give an impressed laugh when you realize that Wanda simply doesn't know why.

"Wanda, your father doesn't want me to sleep in the same bed as you."

She frowns in confusion, "Why?"

You tilt your head. "He thinks we're going to fu-"

"Hey, I'm going at Quill's, can you cover for me if Dad asks for me when he gets back from his fancy dinner?" Pietro interrupts your speech as he enters the room, already holding the keys to the white pickup truck you've seen him drive a few times to school. Wanda blinks away from your intense gaze, a bit flustered.

"S-sure, Pietro, good night." She says very quickly, and the other looks between you and her with a suggestive expression.

"You two behave yourselves, huh? Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He teases, and Wanda grimaces. You chuckle.

"Sure thing, mary jane." You retort without hesitation and Pietro stops smiling at that instant. Wanda doesn't understand and probably doesn't know that Pietro smokes pot behind the gyms, and so before she can question the nickname, Pietro is muttering goodbye as he leaves the room.

"What was that...?" She asks but you shake your head, giving the movie a play.

"Let's keep watching, it's getting to the best part." Wanda sighs a little as you adjust and stay close enough for her to smell your perfume completely, effectively taking all attention away from the movie.

But she had to pay attention when the first moans started. In an instant, her cheeks burned, and Wanda tried to look as cool about it as she could.

You were tapping your fingers on your stomach, completely at ease with the intimate scene playing out on the screen in front of you, and it is impossible for Wanda to do the same.

Once she shifts uncomfortably, and you notice her clenching her thighs, you sigh.

"How was your first kiss?" Your question almost makes her choke, but Wanda is thankful that at least she has an excuse to look away from the movie's sex scene.

"Hum, I've never..."

"Really?" You cut her off gently, adjusting your weight on her arm to face her, and Wanda feels very nervous about all the attention. She nods, and you smile. "It's really hard to believe you didn't have a line of suitors."

Wanda chuckles embarrassedly, shaking her head. "Well, I don't know many people, you know? It's not like I had classmates studying at home. And when I wasn't studying, I was at some officional event, being my dad's perfect little girl."

The hidden bitterness in her sentence made you raise an eyebrow softly, the interest burning in your mind.

"I know the feeling, my father is a military man and loves to keep up appearances." You say, quietly closing the laptop in Wanda's lap. "But unlike you, I do whatever it takes to annoy him."

"Very naughty of you." She mutters half breathlessly because you are leaning over her suddenly. But it's only to put the closed laptop on the nightstand, and once you notice the way Wanda is blushing and breathing out of rhythm, a smile forms on your face.

"Wanda, I would like to be your first kiss." You whisper to her, and instead of pulling away, you rest a hand on the side of her head. "If you want that of course."

She chokes softly but nods almost frantically. "Yeah... I'd like that."

"Let's start with lesson one then. Close your bedroom door." You guide low against her lips, using every mental control to pull yourself away from her. Wanda gasps, but quickly moves in shaky steps off the bed to the bedroom door, and you hide a smile as you tuck yourself into her bed.

She surprises you a little when with trembling fingers, she locks the door.

"Just... for precaution." She clarifies embarrassed about the look on your face, but you just shrug.

"I'm not complaining." You tease. "Come here."

Wanda swallows dryly and wastes no time in obeying, walking back to the bed. She sits down a little further in front of you, and you hold out your hand for her to take, and once she does, you pull her gently to sit on your lap.

Wanda is trembling with nervousness, and her skin is warm to the touch. You lick your lips, trying to control yourself and not grab her right there and kiss and fuck her until she can't remember her own name, and it takes a lot of willpower when she looks so good all over you.

"You've never really kissed anyone, not even a small peck?" You ask sweetly, bringing your hand to her cheek for her to look at you. When she denies it with her head, you move closer. "Give me a peck then." She does so on the spot, and it's quick as expected, but it turns her cheeks into tomatoes. You smile, "Again. Longer this time."

She sighs, but nods and breaks the distance, pressing her lips over yours.

Instead of letting go, you place your hand on her cheek and kiss her back firmly, eliciting a surprised and affected sigh in return. She opens her mouth to breathe, and you slide your tongue inside.

Wanda makes a noise with her throat, moving restlessly in your lap but you guide the kiss until she gets used to the sensation and soon her breathless sighs sound like gasping pleas, her hands move to your shoulders and she tries to deepen.

Everything in her body begs for more - more of your hands, squeezing her waist, more of your tongue sucking hers, and more of you, everywhere you can touch. She feels hot and bothered, and it is as new and fantastic as it is overwhelming.

You kiss her until she starts to move her hips impatiently against your thigh, and then you know you have to stop now or you won't be able to pull it off later. The way your heart speeds up when she looks at you with puffy lips and dark eyes once the kiss is over only confirms this.

"Is everything okay?" Wanda speaks first, her voice shaky and husky, her face inches from yours.

You take a deep breath, offering her a small smile.

"Sure, I should just go home." You say, and you are already moving her off of you in the next moment, missing the other's confused look.

Once you have your shoes on, Wanda can't contain her concern.

"I...I did it wrong didn't I?"

You frown, turning to her as you put on your jacket. Wanda looks down at her own lap.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Wanda." You tell her, moving closer again to the end of the bed. "Listen." You say gesturing to her ear, and she is confused for just a second.

Next, she can hear her father outside the house, car noises, and something that sounds like complaints about a canceled dinner.

She looks at you again, and you are already kneeling on the bed to reach for her face.

"I'm just trying to keep you out of trouble." You explain as you caress her cheek. "I can't risk you getting grounded in this fancy mansion when I want to keep taking you out."

Her gaze glows hopeful. "You do?"

You smile, leaning in to kiss her intensely for a moment. "Of course I do." You assure her once you break the kiss, your gaze darkening afterward. "And I also want to come to your room, lie on your bed, and elicit all the delicious sounds you make when I kiss you."

Wanda chokes softly, leaning in to break the distance again, but you haven't offered her more than a peck, earning a grumble in return. "When are you going to kiss me again? For real."

"When do you want to?" you challenge back, and despite the pink of your cheeks, Wanda doesn't hesitate.

"Now."

You chuckle, pulling away. You open the door just before Erik comes up the stairs, and he grimaces, but you are already leaving the room. Before you do, you turn and offer a wink to Wanda, who once she is left in the room alone, sinks her face into her pillows, trying to make her heart stop beating so fast.

–//–

You wanted to take things slow with Wanda because in your experience, too fast burns and wears out at the same speed.

It is, however, quite difficult to keep your eyes off her.

Especially when she looks so irresistible in her cheer uniform.

"You're drooling." Yelena sneers beside you under the bleachers as you both skip chemistry class so she can smoke away from any teacher's attention.

"I definitely am." You retort without any concern, your gaze focused on the brunette from meters away. Yelena laughs dryly, taking a long drag on her cigarette.

"When are you going to make it official?"

"Why, so we can end up like Nat and Carol, fighting about the damn weather." You retort half impatiently, and Yelena hesitates a moment. She puffs smoke before answering.

"Carol cheated on Nat." She declares, and you gasp in surprise, looking at your friend with wide eyes. She shrugs her shoulders. "It was with a girl from State, at last year's championship. Nat tried to forgive her, but it''s been the same since summer. They're not fighting because of the weather, they're fighting because they're lying to each other."

You bite your tongue, turning your gaze back to Wanda in the field. She looks beautiful and giggles excitedly with her teammates when she gets her steps right.

"That doesn't make me feel confident about your suggestion, Lena." You murmur to her, and Yelena laughs lightly, taking one last drag before throwing the cigarette on the ground.

"Not every relationship sucks, Y/N." She begins. "Not everyone gets divorced like your parents, and not everyone cheats like my sister's girlfriend. Just look at me and Kate. I fucking love her, and I can't wait for us to be living in the same apartment."

You smile small. "I never said I loved anyone."

Yelena rolls her eyes, laughing softly. "It's in your face. And look where you are, simping over her while skipping class instead of doing anything else."

It's your turn to roll your eyes, a soft pink filling your cheek at being caught. "Shut up or I'll tell Kate you're looking for a place without her help."

Yelena laughs, "And I'll tell Maximoff that you're a stalker."

You grunt impatiently, leaving muttering that the field is a free-for-all, and missing the way Wanda looks through the rails to where you were sitting before.

As the weeks went by, and with the clear yet casual involvement between you, it was obvious to everyone how much influence you had in each other's lives.

You started showing up to more classes, and Wanda stole your leather jacket for her and learned to say no to her father when you learned to show up at family dinners.

She borrowed your clothes with the excuse that they smelled like you, and you brought home her classic DVDs almost every weekend.

And there was also a matching set of hickeys on your necks.

"Wanda, your father looks ready to blow up this car." You reminded her with a breathless giggle against her lips - because she insisted that you kiss her properly - before you dropped her off at home. She grunted impatiently, grabbing your chin so that you would take your attention away from the man with his arms crossed in the driveway, and focus on the girl sitting in the car seat gifted by your father after you said you had sent admission letters to colleges not so far from Wanda.

"I want to ask you something." She says, kissing you again briefly. "Do you want to sleep over at my place this weekend?"

You hum, kissing her again before retorting, "Is it some special occasion?"

She smiles, shaking her head. "Just missing you. And... it's the race finals weekend, so Dad and Pietro are traveling and we'll have the house to ourselves."

You choke softly, caught by surprise that it is Wanda suggesting such a thing. But she seems genuinely naive about it, waiting for your response.

"Hmm, and what would we do with the house to ourselves...?" You tease, rubbing your nose against hers and Wanda chuckles shyly, one hand going up to your neck.

"I suppose whatever we want." She replies, and you smile before kissing her again, this time goodbye.

–//–

It seemed to take a lifetime, but the weekend finally arrived.

Wanda doesn't know why she was so nervous. You had been alone before, between classes, at movie screenings, at snack bars, or bowling alleys.

But then she remembered the feeling of your lips pressing against hers, the panting whispers that made her skin itch, and the way her knees gave way when your hands got bold and she guessed she knew very well why.

She prepares a typical movie session, all the food, and comfy pillows, and you praise her for her dedication before pressing her against the bedroom door.

Wanda loves those hungry kisses - they heat up her body like a furnace, and always leave her wanting more. And today you seem willing to give her as much as she needs.

Your mouth parted from hers only to trail along her jaw, marking your way down and Wanda already panting, threw her head back against the wood, shivering under your rough touch around her body.

"I drove all the way down here thinking about kissing you, princess." You confess huskily against her ear, and Wanda blushes heavily, a low moan escaping her throat. "You're making me crazy, Wanda. I can't stop thinking about you."

"I think about you too." She confesses equally affected, only to gasp when you press a knee between her legs and everything burns, and she can't control the sounds that escape from there, not when you move your hands to her waist and make her grind against your thigh next. "Oh. That feels so nice..." She whimpers overwhelmed by the sensations, and you gently bite the sensitive spot on her neck.

"If you want something, you're going to have to ask for it." You whisper, and Wanda moans in response, her nails digging into your arms.

"Please, Y/N. I just need...you to touch me." She tries with her cheeks burning as much as the rest of her body, her hips never failing against your thigh and making you shiver.

"I'm all over you, pretty girl." You tease back, meeting her gaze and swallowing Wanda's breathless moans with your mouth with each movement of her hips. "Unless you want me to touch you somewhere else..."

"You know I want to." She retorts naughtily, and to that, you bite her lip, a gentle tug that makes her choke on a moan.

"Don't be a smart-ass." You warn, sliding a hand to her thigh to pull it up, and the adjustment makes Wanda see stars. "You can't even tell me to fuck your pussy."

She whimpers at the teasing, closing her eyes and throwing her forehead against your shoulder. You laugh smugly as the wetness begins to stain your pants.

"Baby, please..." She whimpers again, urging her body against you. Her hips are out of rhythm, and the covered stimulation is delicious, but still not enough. She just needs some kind of push that you seem to know what it is and won't grant her.

Instead of answering her, you grab her neck and kiss her hard, adjusting your body to hers until Wanda feels a hardness and jerks up with a surprised, affected squeal.

"It's a gift that I bought especially for you. if you're ready for it, of course." You clarify breathlessly, and she nods immediately, interlacing her hands behind your neck. But you kiss her slowly now and move your other hand down to lift Wanda between the door and your lap so that she now grinds directly against the strap instead of your thigh. She gasps in a whimper, meeting your eyes again as you break the kiss. " Fuck, you're so close and I haven't even touched you yet."

You were absolutely right. The knot in Wanda's belly was ready to explode at any moment, and when you slid your hand down to open your zipper, and the fake cock slipped out, the new pressure made Wanda growl hornily, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

You didn't penetrate her, letting her grind her covered intimacy against the toy until the moisture was enough to wet it. By now Wanda was jerking, holding you by the shoulders as you moved your hips against her. The strap pressed against her clit, sliding in a torturous back and forth over her covered pussy, and you seemed to be having the time of your life driving her to the brink of insanity with that tease.

"Y/N-fuck-I want-need it... inside-ah" She tried, delirious with anticipation, ever so close, and you panted softly in her ear.

"I love it when you cuss, it's so hot." You praise, slowing down and making Wanda moan loudly, her clit throbbing. "If you can ask me what you want, I'll do it."

Wanda whimpers affectedly, her cheeks blushing again. She is almost building up courage when you curse in her ear trapped in your own pleasure, and she is cumming instead of saying anything.

It is an overwhelming pleasure, almost terrifying her. She grabs you to keep from falling to the floor, dripping onto her panties. You grunt as you realize what has just happened and only give Wanda time to stop shaking before you get down on your knees.

"Babe, what are you...?" She falls silent as she chokes on her own breath, throwing her head back hard as her hips try to escape from your hands that hold her just for that. You press your nose against her covered intimacy, sniffing with a loud groan as Wanda whimpers. You don't give her time to complain before you move a hand to push the fabric away and sink your tongue into her.

Wanda practically screams, and you groan as you taste her. You fuck her messily, hungrily as you take your tongue between the folds of her pussy, pushing deep and then shallow to make her twitch, and when you suck on her clit she brings a hand to her hair.

"Oh-OH-blyat', tak khorosho!" Wanda gasps, and you groan as you hear her cursing in another language. It just encourages you to keep going, and this time, you won't stop until you get it out of her again.

It didn't take long - Wanda was sensitive and you only had to slide your tongue inside and suck her clit a few times for her to spill into your mouth with a long moan, her nails digging into your scalp. You moaned too, delighting in her taste and licking her clean before making your way up again.

"That was..." She tries breathlessly, her eyes lazy, and you smile, kissing her and making her grunt for her own taste before turning into a surprised yelp when you take her by the thighs and lift her onto your lap.

"We're not done, pretty girl." You clarify between kisses on the way to the bed. When you place Wanda on the mattress, her hair spreads across the pillow and she stares at you with dark eyes, her chest heaving. You pause, momentarily speechless as you realize how much you care for her.

"Everything okay?" She asks at your hesitation, and you smile immediately, nodding and moving closer to kiss her with intensity. Wanda melts, trying to pull you up but you gently push her by the shoulders.

She thinks to question, but your hand traces its way between her thighs and any question becomes an affected whimper.

"The toy is small, but I still need to stretch you with my fingers." You whisper with a naturalness that doesn't match the way Wanda blushes heavily. She merely nods, shivering under your fingers scratching and teasing around the inner part of her thighs. "You'll tell me if it hurts, won't you, pretty girl?"

She nods frantically, choking softly. "Y-yes, but please, just..." The teasing was driving her insane, your fingers only touching around, never where she desperately needed it. "Please, Y/N, touch me."

You shushed her gently, kissing the corner of her mouth and then her jaw, and when you got to her neck and started sucking on the sensitive spots that made her squirm on the bed, your fingers find her intimacy and penetrated her.

Wanda whimpered, closing her eyes tightly to the invasion. One at first, and then you slid out, and when you came back, two sank into her and she bit your shoulder.

"Tell me when you're ready." You whispered into her neck, moving your thumb to stimulate her clitoris, and Wanda throbbed beneath you. After two orgasms, she was really quite sensitive, but that only made it better. "Wands?"

She sighed, opening her eyes to find your worried ones. Instead of answering, she brought one hand to your cheek and another to the wrist connected between you. She brought your lips together at the same time she moved her hips, and you took the cue, sliding your fingers out and then in to find a rhythm.

Wanda whimpered once you got it, with each thrust she gasped at the kiss becoming harder to return, but once you felt her close again, you stopped.

She grunted confused and annoyed, but you adjusted before she could say anything, and any complaint broke down into an affected moan as you lined up the strap on her and sank in at once.

"Ah, I knew you could take it, pretty girl." You praised her, in a slow rhythm against her as Wanda squirmed and dug her nails into your back, desperate for more. "Damn, you look so beautiful now."

Wanda's moans mingled with the sounds of the thrusts inside her, the wetness of her pussy creating a delicious friction. You firmed your hands on her waist, pushing deeper, and she arched her back, ready to fall over the edge. You fell over her, hugging her and kissing the skin of her exposed collarbone, and Wanda whimpered, moaning under you.

She let out a little squeal, and her body tensed and you gasped against her neck as you came too, your juices mixing and dripping down her thighs.

You stood there for a moment, just breathing against each other as you calmed from your climax, and you smiled as you felt Wanda draw patterns on your back.

Unhurriedly, you moved off her, biting your lips at the image of the soaked toy and the sigh that left her lips as she felt empty before you pulled away.

Wanda looks at you expectantly at once, missing your body on top of her.

"Where are you going?" She asks in a half-hoarse voice, but you smile, now standing in front of the bed, you begin to remove your pants.

"You came three times and we didn't even get to take our clothes off. I'm kind of impressed." You humorously clarify, and Wanda giggles shyly, biting her lips as you take off your clothes in front of her. "How would you like to take a shower with me? And then, lend me something comfy so we can watch the movie you've picked up?"

She finds it incredible, honestly, but once you are completely naked in front of her, Wanda can only sigh and move closer again. She brings a hand to your neck and kisses you hard.

"Later. Now, I want you to do that thing with your tongue again." She asks with a sigh and well, it's not like you're going to complain.

–//–

You awoke to rays of sunlight on your face and a warm feeling on the tip of your stomach.

"Wands...oh...don't stop that." Your natural instinct was to call out to her, but it turned into something like a moan and a sigh as you felt the pleasure electrify your whole body at once. Wanda smiled against you, looking up at you as her hands held your thighs open for her. You squirmed on the mattress, barely finding time to grab her hair before you cum hard on her tongue. "Fuck, baby, that was amazing."

She giggles softly against you, kissing your thighs before moving up your body until she finds your mouth again. It takes a moment for you to recover from the orgasm and wake up properly, but when you do, your hands go around her and you spin Wanda around on the bed, getting on top quickly as she smiles.

"You're a fast learner." You comment against her jaw, tracing kisses downward. "I don't think I've ever cum so fast before..."

But suddenly, Wanda tenses and your hand guides your face back to her.

"I don't want to think about it." She says almost irritated, and you frown in confusion, "You with other people."

A smile breaks on your lips. " Hmm, is that right?"

But Wanda doesn't smile, sliding her legs between yours to switch positions and push you on your back on the bed, straddling your lap the next minute. Her hands at the side of your head, and her hair makes a curtain between your faces.

"I want you to be mine, Y/N. As I am yours." She whispers hoarsely, her gaze intense on yours. You blink impressed but are smiling.

"And who says I'm not already?" You challenge back, moving your hands to her hips and enjoying the feel of her intimacy against your thigh. Her breasts look incredible like this too, covered only by the half-open shirt of yours that she must have stolen during the night.

Wanda studies your face as she risks, "You never made us official, I thought..."

You bring a hand to her cheek as she lowers her head in shame. "Wands, and who says labels are the only thing that makes us official?"

Wanda shrugs, looking away, "I don't know, it's just that the cheer girls have their partners, and they're always talking about going to college together or buying apartments and-"

You straighten up, sitting up and pulling her closer.

"We'll do all that if that's what you want." You tell her with sincerity. "We'll go to NYU together, and rent an apartment. And I'll buy you a shiny ring so everyone will know we're together."

Wanda smiles, blushing as she wraps her arms around you.

"But what do you want?"

You smile warmly, brushing your nose against hers. "Sweetheart, I just want you." You retort caressing her skin. "I don't care about social norms, I just want to be able to kiss and wake up with you every day. If you want a ring, let's buy a ring. If you want to meet me in secret so as not to upset your father, I'll accept that too."

Wanda chuckles softly, pecking your jaw and then your lips.

"There's no way I'm keeping you a secret, you're the best thing that ever happened to me." She confesses and you kiss her, again and again until she starts to heat up on you, breathless whispers leaving her lips with each kiss.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me too, Wands." You retort to her before deepening the next kiss, and this time, you don't stop.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #bottom!wanda #kinktober 2022

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igsuhrheos · 1 year

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Bathtub Fun | Wanda Maximoff

This is my first story so please be kind.

Wanda’s a bottom and Y/N is a people pleaser. What more could you want?

Words-3.7k

Warnings: mention of alcohol, fingering, a bit of degradation, praise, neck squeezing, y/n is AFAB but it’s pretty gender neutral.

Translation: Милый-(sweetheart),

Детка-(baby)

——————————————————————

Tonight was again,a big party Stark put together but tonight he had a reason, a reason he used most of the time but most of the time, it worked. It was because there had been a whole month full of missions and training without any fatal accidents or anything that cost him a lot of money. So all the money he would’ve spent on the injured people he used it to host a party, and more importantly a party with alcohol.

But now it’s the middle of the party and some how it got even louder than before,with you and Wanda all danced out and a bit tipsy you take a break only now you’re realizing that Wanda is nowhere to be found. She said to you awhile ago that she was going to get something to drink and you thought that she was just sitting down some where.

Looking around you can’t find her anywhere, so when you walk up to Natasha and Tony with a confused expression and no Wanda on your arm before you can even speak.

“No, Y/N ,we haven’t seen your girlfriend” Natasha says with a smirk.

“She’s not my girlfriend”

“But you want her to be, we see the way you guys look at each other” said Tony with the same smirk as Natasha.

With a pink face you say “Why am I even friends with you guys?”

Natasha replies with a “because you love us” and Tony follows up with a “but not as much as she loves her little witch”

With a quick “i hate you” you start to walk away but make a u-turn and go to the bar to grab a bottle of wine and some glasses.

When you pass by them again you get a “go get her, tiger” from Nat and a complaint from Tony about stealing his alcohol.

If Wanda walked away from the party without telling you is because, she’s probably stressed. So with the wine bottle in hand you go and try to find her. You look on the balcony, in the kitchen, in her room, etc. So the final place you look is your room seeing how you and Wanda sleep in the same room sometimes, and that’s where you find her but not in your bed watching sitcoms like normal.

No,she’s in your bathroom,in the tub with the door wide open but it’s not the first time you’ve seen Wanda naked it’s been several actually but never like this anyway, just laying there with warm water over her body just so relaxed to the point where it looks like she’s almost asleep.

So as quietly as you can so you don’t scare her you walk into the bathroom and make yourself known “You left me alone down there y’know” and despite you trying not to scare her you know you failed when she shoots up and lets out a little yelp.

“Don’t do that you sacred me” she says, as she lays back down after knowing it’s just you and not some random party goer, but before she can reprehend you some more she gets a good look at you but of course she’s seen you tonight many many times, more than she would like to let on.

Even though it just barely an hour ago she thought back to how you held her close on the dance floor, how your hand was always reaching for her or touching her, how her painted red lips were on your neck and how they left a residue mark of lipstick on your collar.

When she looked down she saw the wine bottle and glasses in your hand and with an airy giggle she asked “Don’t you think we already had enough to drink tonight” as she pointed at the bottle. “Oh you think this is for you, no way, you left me. Out there. All alone.”

She simply just rolled her eyes and shook her head at you “I didn’t leave you alone” she said “Nat was right by you, a little too close” she spoke the last part under her breath but you heard it. “You sound a little jealous don’t you think, Witchy.” Y/N said with a smirk. Now, with her face a more flushed than before, but not because of the heat in the bathroom, it’s because of your teasing tone.

She lets a fake hurt gasp “I am not jealous” and this time she gets even more red by your saying “If you were jealous” before you even get to finish your thought, she interrupts “But I’m not” with her voice going up a bit when she finishes her sentence, a telltale sign she’s lying, you continue from where you left off “If you were jealous, you have no reason to be.” She then titles her head to the side with the perfect look of innocence as if she has no idea where this is going “I’m all yours, pretty girl.” She softly gasps as if she’s never heard such words before, but it wasn’t, time and time again from the moment you first met Wanda from being friends to where you two are right now.

You always put Wanda first no matter what and you always reassured her in anyway she would ask for it. Once she got over her shocked state,she realized you had now sat down outside the tub and opened the bottle. She then grabbed the wine glass you offered her, and of course you poured her glass first. She accepted it with a smile,that she only ever gave to you, “My sweet girl,” she thought.

Once your glass was a little ways filled, you were already tipsy from the drinks you had at the party and just from looking at Wanda and the way she was looking at you, she asked with a smirk, eyes shining with mischief, “So you’re all mine?”

As fast as her brother you answered “Of course I am” with a loving smile, “Would you do anything for me? Anything I asked?” She pondered.

With a questionable look you gave her the sarcastic answer of “What you want me to scream it from the rooftops?” Even though it was said as a joking you and Wanda both knew you would do it, if she had asked you or not.

She laughed at your sarcastic statement and taking a sip of her wine, so she could say her next sentence without chickening out “Would you like to get in with me?” she said sitting up and scooting forward so there’s space for you behind her.

Honestly, you were a little bit caught off guard, thinking that she was gonna ask you to go get her some clothes so she could get out and go to bed. But of course you liked this idea a bit better, you were also a little nervous.

Obviously you and Wanda have had sex before, anyone that looked your guys way either knew or thought that it’s just a matter of time before you “jump each others bones” as Tony put it. You’ve had sex in the bed, a quickie in a broom closet or in the kitchen when you could, even in the shower after not seeing each other for awhile because of missions or even just because you had both gotten out of training, and with all the panting and the sweating done in the gym, it just migrated into the shower along with more panting and hushed moaning.

But this, this felt vulnerable, having to just sit there, it was never easy to sit next to Wanda without having the urge to do something, let alone a naked, tipsy, wet Wanda.

Of course, as always you did it, for Wanda. You asked Wanda to hold your glass for you, then you started to get undressed,starting with your belt that held up your pants, then your white buttoned up shirt. If Wanda was being honest with her self she was a little sad to see the shirt go because of the way it fit your body, to it hugging your biceps and your shoulders, and the lipstick mark that she left.

Then the shirt was completely off and of course she seen you without clothes on but “fuck”, without the shirt she could she everything, the defined muscles of your arms, your tight abdomen that you worked on for hours in the gym.

Then came the pants, she already knew that your legs were pretty defined, of course she would, no, she could spend hours grinding and grinding down onto your thighs. It made it even better when you helped her move her hips.

Then, the boxers, she absolutely loved you in boxers the way they hugged your waist and ass, she honestly couldn’t get enough of you, with or without your clothes.

After you were fully undressed you finally stepped into the tub and laid back. Right away Wanda laid down on your chest with her back to your front and your arms on the side of the tub once you grabbed your glass back from her.

“This is nice” she said in a voice full of contempt.

“This is the only thing you wanted me to do for you?”

She turned her head side ways and looked back at you “Did you want more, Детка?” She asked in a sultry voice, her accent coming out a bit since she’s more relaxed than before.

With a red face and a kiss to her shoulder you answered “N-no I was just checking to see if I could do anything else for you.”

“My sweet girl, wanting to do so much for me, but there is one more thing you could do for me.” She said in a voice that made a shiver go down your spine.

“W-whatever you want, Wands.”

Now with you exactly how Wanda wants you to be, sweet, willing to do anything she desires. It’s no secret that you are the one who is in control in the bedroom, you would most likely go back to having control in the next few minutes, but Wanda couldn’t care less. She liked when you had your way with her, most of the time it was hot and heavy but gentle with praise and on the off chance, degradation.

Wanda was a fan of both, it was you who didn’t really like to degrade her, as you told her time and time again when she asked why you didn’t want to and it was always the same “You’re to precious to say mean things to” or “Your pussy always gets so wet when I praise you, so why would I change that?”

But this time it was an off chance, with the drinks and everything happening around you, you think you could do it just a little bit.

Whilst you were, once again, wondering what she wanted you to do for her. She said “How ‘bout you be a, good girl, and touch me?”

Again, with lightening speed you got to work to make Wanda happy. You took yours and her empty wine glasses and put them on the floor outside of the tub.

Now with your hands free, you wrapped your arms around her stomach and caressed her sides, digging your fingertips into her just enough to get a soft sigh from her. She moved her hands into the back of your head into your hair and pulled you forward so that she could crash her lips into yours.

With her lips moving sloppily against yours you decided it would be a good time to let your hands trail all over her body, from her breasts, to where you twisted and pulled her hard nipples, to her thighs where you squeezed and pulled them apart so that they were opened enough to your liking.

Now with her legs spread you disconnected your lips from hers and let them trail down her jaw, to neck then to her ear, where you asked “Are you needy, my love?” She then proceeded to let out a low moan along with a whiny “yes.”

With that response you brought your hands away from her thighs, and the place she wanted you the most, one of them going to wrap around her neck with a gentle squeeze and the other hand back to right where her hip and legs meet.

With a huff she said “If you don’t get to work soon I’m doing it myself, and you can just sit there and watch.” She was expecting you to do as you were told, but she definitely didn’t expect you to laugh at her, you actually laughed at her and before she could even process getting mad and telling you off, you said, “Stop being a brat unless you want me to fuck it out of your system.” With a playful degrading voice and another squeeze to her neck.

After that she went silent with a red face, which you followed up with a nip to her ear and a “That’s my good girl.” Now with a very needy Wanda who was practically shaking with arousal. Now you just needed one more thing from her before you actually touched her.

With you moving the hand that was on her hip back up to her breast,“I know you like thinking you can boss me around. But be honest with yourself baby, you like it so much more when I’m in charge, don’t you?” You say while sliding your fingers over her wet pussy, and even though she’s wet from the water, you can feel the sticky slick that you could spend hours devouring.

With a buck of her hips towards your hand that you moved before she could get what she wanted. With a hoarse voice she pleaded “P-please, Детка?”

With your hand tilting her head back so it could rest on your shoulder and a kiss to her cheek, you wanted to tease her a little bit more so you asked,”Please what, pretty girl? I know you can ask better than that pathetic attempt. Go on beg for me,my slutty girl.”

A sob made its way through Wanda’s lips and then came her begs for pleasure, “Please t-touch me Милый. I-I’ll be a good girl. Just please fuck me.”

Wanting to push her a little more you asked, “Are you mine?”

“Yes! All yours”

“You promise?”

“I promise! Just touch me, please.”

Your fingers then started to move slowly over her pussy making her squirm and whine. But when you moved your fingers to her clit and teased “Does that feel good, my love? You like when I touch your pussy like this?”

With lust and arousal surrounding her, just nodding and moaning loudly in your ear as a sign of yes and for you to keep going. But of course you were in control, you weren’t just gonna let her get away with her not verbally answering you. So you pulled away your fingers from her pussy and getting a whiny, “Why did you stop” along with a pout.

“When I ask you a question I expect an answer, understand ” you said with a hand still on her throat and a light slap against her inner thigh.

“Y-yes”

“Yes, what?”

With a flushed face she replied “yes, I understand” in a meek voice.

“Very good, see that wasn’t so hard was it.” Whilst saying this your hand slipped back to its position on her pussy, and started to tease her opening.

By now you could tell Wanda was close to her orgasm and so to help her get there you pushed a single digit in her, finally getting what she wants you’re rewarded with a moan, a smile, and a pleasure filled “thank you.”

Whilst pumping your single digit in her you asked,”Is this what you wanted, my Wanda? Me to finger your pretty needy pussy?”

With a hip buck, a loud moan and something along the lines of “more” and “faster” you decided that she had enough teasing for tonight or at least for now. So now replacing one finger with two, you started to pump your fingers faster, just as she had requested.

After a couple of seconds you heard the lust induced “I-I’m close, Детка.” With a sultry laugh from your end, you curled your fingers and with a feigned sad voice “All ready? But I just got started, can’t you hold on a little while longer.”

She nodded her head but you both knew she wouldn’t last longer than you actually wanted her to. So with a “y’know, maybe if you begged me, I might let you cum right now.”

Without having to ask anymore she let out a breathless sentence of,”Please, please, please, can I cum? I’ve been so good for you.” As you acted like you were thinking about it, she turned her head and started to kiss your neck feverishly, in hopes it would help persuade your mind in letting her cum.

With you bringing her head back up so you could whisper into her ear “Since you asked so nicely, cum for me, my beautiful slutty girl, cum on my fingers.” and with your permission that’s what she did. She grabbed your face and brought your lips together while she squirmed, and moaned.

Once she let go of your face and you stared to pepper kisses to her cheeks, neck, shoulders really anywhere you could reach. You gave her time to come down from her high with praises of “You did so good for me.” and “So pretty when you cum like that.”

With her turning her head towards you she showed off a dazzling smile and a “thank you for everything.” and a “No problem, princess.” from you she brought into another kiss but this one was calm and loving but with the taste of the wine from her mouth brought into your mouth you couldn’t wait to ask if you could go for round two.

#wanda maximoff fluff #elizabeth olsen x reader #bottom!wanda #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff smut

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wmarximoff · 2 years

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in secret | w. maximoff

summary: after spending all of her youth trapped in HYDRA's labs, Wanda Maximoff had no contact with outsiders, and therefore never knew the nuances of human pleasures. but when a young amateur photographer travels to Sokovia, in secret, Wanda discovers more about herself than she ever has done before.

warnings (18+): mentions of tragedy, sexual discovery, masturbation, mentions of sex, voyeurism.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 2k

A/N: guess who finally saw In Secret? lol

this is basically Wanda's journey of discovery about her sexuality and maybe her body as a whole. it's more of a character study than anything else, really.

|masterlist|

༺ᱬ༻

Wanda Maximoff couldn't have pinpointed with unerring clarity the first time that dazzling spark flickered in her fiery center when facing another female figure. When she had started to feel that peculiar way around someone like her – when her gaze had started to take too much of its time just scrutinizing the contours of rosy lips and gentle chins, lingering on the newly conceived idea of the fact that she wanted to touch – she needed to feel – something that she also had.

At some point, as in a summer breeze that comes in the form of an announcement of warm and restrained days, like a verging innocent desire to know something new, the curves of pelvic girdles became more attractive than the prominent muscles and roughness of stubble beard trails, when the softness and the fragility were enough to make her want more of that new idea. For Wanda, there was nothing of an assorted nature that would be able to attract her like that feeling did.

It certainly wasn't, however, during the early years of her pre-adolescence, all carried away in poverty worthy of the structures of a country devastated by war, that she realized this outlandish distinction flourishing within herself. A need. A crave, perhaps. Not like other girls, but for other girls.

At the time, the unfaithful hunger had allowed her senses to arise in no other way than to beg for something other than food to digest within the walls of her stomach; there was no room there to consume the dying butterflies of love, for the hunger was cavernous even when her mother barely tried to keep it from being so – her father worked to keep everyone pleased and healthy, it’s true.

But, at that time, there was a girl a little older than Wanda who lived in the apartment next door, next to that scrawny, tiny room in which she lived huddled together with her parents and her older twin brother – a room that wasn’t quite enough to shelter within itself, in four scraggy walls that barely prevented the frosty draft from outside, the size of a family of four. But they had a small television, a handful of old American sitcoms to watch, and a teenage daughter trying to make sense of the unintelligible.

The Maximoffs made it happen because they had no choice but to share the same bed to stay warm through the cold, algid Sokovian nights. When Wanda had to hug her own hands and only hope she didn’t die of hypothermia overnight.

The neighbor at the time was a rather appealing young woman, tall, typical of Slavic Europe, about nineteen years old, who had been babysitting her and Pietro some seasons before in the summer sun. She was a stunning image that captured the senses of a young Wanda at the height of her fifteen years of age, when things began to blossom like a rosebud and the notion of a child's world was slowly fading away from her cognition, every day a little beyond an ingenuous notion.

When she started fancying to have her own room and own bedsheets like the American kids did in these old shows from the last century – the pinnacle of the American Way of Life, a blatant lie for impressionable eyes –, realizing the unfair limitations of poverty and the true meaning of it in one's life, having lonely teenage nights to discover what hadn't been discovered yet.

There was a need effervescent in Wanda’s spirit, as if her lungs were crying out for oxygen to breathe. It was as if she was shedding her own skin without realizing that she was doing it; until it was too late to turn back. Wanda found the girl buried in the ruins of the popular residence after the second bomb fell on the building's terrace.

Only a pale, unresponsive forearm could be seen dragging itself out of the concrete and splinters, but Wanda recognized the silver bracelet buttoned to the length of her skinny wrist that had sporadically caught her attention when that pretty girl passed her in the hallways, always to offer her a fond, complacent smile that made Wanda's little heart, still so foreign to amorous feelings, flutter strangely when her cheeks heated up like an ignition in a fireplace, burning greedily inside her nerves.

On the lonely teenage nights she liked to daydream about, Wanda began to think about what it would be like to sleep next to the warm body of her striking neighbor; how the silhouette of her sinuous body would look under the covers when it was lit only by the silver moon, and how unsettling her sweet, honeyed scent would be when she bent over her straining guts. It made the hollow half withing her thighs quiver beneath her nightclothes every time.

Maybe she wouldn't snore as much as Pietro did, always so loud and so unkempt, or kick her shins under the thin blankets in her sleep. Her skin would be soft and delicate against the hollow of her calves, like a second mantle, silky and subtle to the touch. Wanda would certainly like to know what her sleepy sighs would sound like tenderly in her ear.

She was armed with the best of intentions when she took the bracelet for herself from that frozen dead arm (unlike the image her unconscious had become accustomed to idealizing in dream lines when flanked by the coming sleep, of that warm forearm encircling her waist and bringing her closer and closer) because she liked that girl enough to keep her memory close even after she passed away.

But crying for her parents, she didn't remember shedding any tears for the girl. She was then made an orphan, after all. She was a lonely girl, absolutely helpless.

Wanda lived to grow beyond the age when her neighbor was faced with the abrupt end of her life robbed by a war she hadn't started, and in which she would never be the one to end it. Even in an orphanage, crammed into a single room in the company of dozens of other little orphans, that girl in the next door still made her think and turn in the uncomfortable sheets overnight.

But she was barely twenty years old when she and Pietro (the orphaned twins then imbued with unusual gifts, Mind Stone energy pulsing in fiery golden color within their blood cells) fled the clutches of the HYDRA organization once and for all, after a few years of a poorly misguided volunteering that only resulted in abilities beyond what a normal human would have, the two of them headed into a world they would no longer see in the same way as they did before.

It didn't take long for Wanda to realize that she didn't truly understand the ranges of her new capabilities and how they shaped and transmuted her as a being, just as she didn't understand that ecstatic feeling that took shape, grew and expanded inside her like a crimson mist. The sun of her childhood had set, and it was time for something new to emerge from her insides.

She wanted to be in Pietro's shoes when he narrated to her, always so pompously, about the secret nocturnal encounters he'd been having with some girl and some other boy in the villages they frequented as they traveled across Sokovia with only each other’s company – the long journey only tarnished with a winding trail of experiences through the still shaken country, Wanda curious, dreamy and experimenting at that point among a collection of shabby maps, disjointed guides and fantasies late at night – every night – as soon as she realized that Pietro was falling asleep.

Wanda couldn't care less about the young man's summaries of what boys were like exposed in the minimal, voluptuous light of a dark room, indeed.

Just how they could be rather filthy when stripped of clothing and guided only by the will of their desires. But something in her craved to know more and more about how a girl reacted to being touched in a way that she had never been touched, nor had she ever touched anyone else before. How would it feel at her fingertips.

So she touched herself in the dead of night, in one of those where Pietro ventured out of their rented room, just rehearsing the idea empirically in her actions.

Idealizing the subtlety of a girl’s gentle touch even though her own probing fingers were amateurish and naively sloppy against the middle of the old sensibility that used to throb between her partially spread legs, so elusive against her panting skin.

There was something wet and pulsing that she brushed lightly with her fingertips, still testing, still knowing, but it caused an awakening of chaos inside her that she didn't want to let go of at that moment.

It felt good, as good as something that shouldn't be that good. If she was a person devout in faith, she figured, maybe it was a sin, because sins seemed to be good to taste. But there was nothing to stop her from moving forward, and everything in her screamed for her to keep going until that knot formed below her belly button came undone.

And then, in a rush of scarlet pleasure that sailed hard through her ruffled veins (her brow furrowed as if in pain, her heart racing like a marathon runner, her wrist aching in that newfound position of the tendons in her joint), with her mouth agape, Wanda understood. She truly did.

It was a sweet secret she had kept to herself. Something she secreted to the four walls of a dark room again, again and again. Everything about it, about the cravings of girls, always seemed to be something to be kept in secret – a secret that no soul seemed to dare to reveal.

A few weeks passed then since a new discovery, you showed up in her life. A photographer from another country, someone at the inn where the two of you temporarily settled down clarified the doubts that were circling Wanda's mind when her mouth opened to ask about you, a foreigner who just didn't seem to be from there – because you really weren't.

You were there to capture on screen the feeling of witnessing the pleasing Sokovian spring landscape, to present the result of a project and get your college degree.

Being a college student, then, you were a couple of years older than she was, but you were a new figure for her to discover and you were just as intriguing in Wanda's eyes as a foreigner could be. You, the idea of what you would be – what you could be –, aroused something exciting inside Wanda.

And she devoted her hidden attention to you like a believer who follows a god, always biting her own lips in a veiled excitement for the times in which you looked so intently with your camera and took a picture of some situation unfolding in your lens, preserved for posteriority in the light of your attentive gaze.

Wanda wanted you to look at her in that same intense way; that you studied her behind a camera and immortalize her in your memory.

She was like a red specter behind you on a particularly warm afternoon, heading into the scrawny beech trees of vegetation that skimmed the edges of that tiny village situated somewhere in the heart of Sokovia.

Like an animal looking for its prey, Wanda followed you along the lines of a shy little bunny, only being guided by the long pauses made by your sloppy feet, all directed to photograph the vibrant landscape or peaceful nature, some humming bird exotic in a funny pose.

Curly trees and elemental rusticities encompassed the natural landscape around you, a mist filled with the slow two-dimensional heat of morning hovering over your slow path, trickling through the tall row of trees clustered before the edge of a silvery-surfaced river like a long mirror.

You had taken a shortcut through the forest overflowing with so many emblems of nature and crossed the river before the dew, and at one point, amidst the vegetation, Wanda got on her knees (her fingers crunching fresh grass between the extensions of silver rings, she on all fours like a child still in the beginnings of that primordial phase of crawling, still not being able to walk properly) behind a tall pasture that served as a direct audience for you, as oblivious as you were just around the corner across the river, so far from the one who wanted you, yet so close that her gaze burned at your silhouette in front of a golden pool of sun.

From somewhere deep within that dark vortex, Wanda felt a new awakening of desire; so monstrous was her appetite for such a distinguish figure that, just a few feet away from her hiding place in the tall vegetation, you only raised your camera before your eyes and then snapped a well-articulated photograph.

Sweat ran in hot drops on the milky pale skin of Wanda’s neck, feeling so suffocated even under the damp shade of tall trees, and a hissing sound broke in the hollow of her parched, parted peach lips as she shifted position on the grass, the hem of the scanty maroon dress clad in the hollow of her crotch skimmed lightly against that secret place of hers reserved for lonely nights only.

“S-shit…” she moaned, half shivering, snatching her lower lip hard between a row of upper incisors.

And Wanda wasn't even at all surprised when she realized that, there, that nerve was throbbing, begging to be brushed again against the thin material of her secondhand dress. She spread her legs a little wider, fitting her pelvis better against the grass, the pale skin of her knees, then scattered here or there with small leaves and twigs, brushing against the grass mat down her inner thighs.

Charm and vulgarity clenched at Wanda's core when it was that she daringly rolled her hips forward one more time, in test form then intentional, only to feel the bun of fabric press against her panties beneath the dark layer of the dress. And it was good.

Then she rolled her hips again. And again. And stronger. And more exasperated. And more excited. And she rode out in search of what she already knew, secretly honoring you, that unknown photographer whose name she didn't even know.

Then Wanda lifted her clouded gaze, tilting her chin at a broken angle, the emerald green veiled by a shroud of sullen need that melted into the anticipation she'd compelled herself to feel, only to find you, right next to her in that bank of the river parallel to the one she was on, fiddling with the camera dangling from your neck, so absorbed in your ecstatic actions.

A nervous lump of hidden arousal formed inside Wanda's larynx – something pressed inside her as the notion descended upon her that you, far away, so beautiful and so immaculate, were just ignorant of her there, brushing nervously with the hollow of her inner thighs against the fabric of her own dress and the dewy grass on the ground like an animal in heat.

There was something bestial about the raw brutality that aroused her; Wanda discovered it there, snarling against her clenched teeth, watching you from afar, the knot about to burst.

“Fuc– fuck–! Fuck!” she grunted as that lump untied, her eyelids partially threatening to close against her eyes that would never dare leave your vision.

As Wanda rode, prolonging that vibrating red burst between her legs as long as possible, she never stopped holding her neck to watch you there, practically salivating, wanting it to be you there beneath her — she could rub herself against your hand, maybe your thigh, or even all over your pretty face.

And something in her shuddered, as you raised your camera in front of her face, even if so far away, and pointed the lens right at the place where she was hidden within the tall grass.

Later, the incitement of an impending night crept in, which dawned behind the avenue, between the tops of comfortable trees and along the green hill where the sun set behind the mounts, in the bliss of a due leisure, to which the moonlight of summer alluded to the amenities surrounding that small Sokovian village.

The candid air was clear, dewy, and humid to the lungs, yet a bit chilly in its European essence. The windows around the inn had all been closed. Wanda was lying on one bed and Pietro on another.

“So,” began the older twin, getting better under his covers, “What did you do this morning when you disappeared? I looked for you everywhere, you know? I was worried.”

And a small smile allowed itself to mischievously slip into Wanda's rosy lips.

“I can’t tell you,” she whispered to her brother, like a child who holds an enigma, “It's a secret.”

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chaoticstateofaffairs · 9 months

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FUCK!!!! YEEESSSSSS!!!! YEAH!!!! FUCK YEAH!!!! WOOOOOOOO!!!!!

#wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda imagine #wanda x you #wanda smut #wanda maximommy #milf!wanda #bottom!wanda #bottom wanda maximoff

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marximoff · 2 years

Text

déjà vu | w. maximoff

summary: as you slowly reconnect with Wanda, you feel a familiar feeling of déjà vu.

warnings: heavy make out, smut, strap-on sex (Wanda receiving) mentions of smoking, mentions of drinking, canon typical violence, angst.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 10k

A/N: this chapter sure was long awaited (i know it was you horny gays) but before the hot sapphic sex everyone wanted (emo wanda my beloved), this chapter deals with a character study of both r and wanda, to understand a little more about who they are rn as people

((by the way, I'll be taglisting the chapters from now on, so if you want to participate, just say something in the comments

enjoy!

|series masterlist|

《《《《《《《ᱬ》》》》》》》

A carton of almond milk, a jar of peanut butter, a dozen eggs, a stick of butter, a can of peas, a bag of soft multigrain bread and a sizable bottle of wine are the components of the plastic basket that Wanda carries slung over her right arm.

She doesn't know that she forgot to get a can of corn too.

But the basket is kind of weighty and she might as well use her magic to levitate the items around her own silhouette, but she prefers that way, holding them down herself with her own arm strength.

Sometimes it's good to keep the sense of normality active. Even if normality just means carrying a basket full of groceries around the supermarket.

She then looks at the face of the brown watch buttoned at the base of her left wrist and checks the time, blinking her greenish eyes after squeezing a long, full yawn in the back of her throat.

A gray-haired old lady (Mrs. Sharon Davis, an elderly widow, all wrapped in her pale blue cardigan) in front of her appears to be in a conflict with herself to find some of the change interred in the lowest of her silver wallet.

And Wanda scrutinizes the establishment around herself, between the shelves stocked with groceries and the glossy linoleum floor; the weary gaze wavering absorbedly over her own white-fabric sneakers and contingently fixing on a dark, even smear on the floor between them.

Old Mrs. Davis still hasn't spotted her desired coins, and she's been digging into her wallet for the silver pennies for a good few minutes now.

Wanda listens over her shoulder as someone pulls into a shopping cart right behind herself and lets out an audible groan, evidentially annoyed at the delay of the old lady with her change, but Wanda doesn't see the point in bothering to torment herself.

It's not yet six o'clock and she'll be peaceably walking home, for Westview is a small, undisturbed, reticent suburban town where everything is so close and easy to find. And she knows that, with her house being just a few blocks away from the locality of the modest market, she won't be long in coming to prepare dinner for her and her boys (whom she has left securely at the house, both doing their math homework).

She smiles tenderly to herself when she thinks about Billy and Tommy.

After all, she knows she's never loved anyone as passionately as she loves those two little boys (the grace of her life, the reason for her morning smile and for the blaze of keenness pulsing within the fond fortifications of her warmish heart).

For her they are everything, and that is why she would do anything for them – they are the epithet of the purest form of love that Y/N had ever gifted her with; the culmination of their love converted into two vulnerable little creatures that are made up of the best of the two of them.

She just knows, like a good mother who understands both her children so well, that at that moment, the twin boys are probably watching some silly cartoon on the television set beside the broad fireplace found in the corner of the commodious living room.

And she is placid in a supermarket line, getting a whiff of the eccentric consequence of the odd combination of the full-bodied aromas of cleaning product and some sturdy feminine perfume – an even slightly nauseating aroma, kind of overpowering and suffocating.

(In some aisle away from her, a child is heatedly asking his mother to buy him some treats)

Wanda then ponders about making something a little special for dinner, and recalls about the delicious kugel recipethat her mother used to prepare in the length of her childhood days, back in devastated Sokovia, so many years in the remote past that encompasses the beginning of the disasters that marked her life.

The memory that gushes over her is sentimental and bittersweetly recurring to her core; she deliberates about the sporadic months of starveling and a small humble family of four, when her father was lucky with his sales and there was a sufficient amount of money left to buy the soldiers' leftover ingredients.

But then, she retrieves back to the years of her late youth, all lived in the restful caresses of the compound in upper Manhattan. She was still understanding about how to breathe without having Pietro to hold her hand. She was learning to live on her own.

She was coming to terms with the truth that living didn't inevitably have to be a bad experience at all; not when Y/N showed her that there could still be delight in the little things in life.

And it was Y/N who used to marvelously praise the dish when Wanda found comfort in the act of cooking, and she always repeat a few slices every time Wanda cooked it so long ago, when they were just two teenage lovers (and eventually also young wives, both living in a small bubble of love and companionship on the edge of a comfortable wooden cottage surrounded by dozen of yards of apple orchards).

There was the sweet virtuousness of the warmth of two young girls' lives at that time. It was the first time that Wanda was really fond of being young (of breathing and having a beating heart, of having a life to live valuing every little detail of it).

She memorizes the exultant smile of her ex-wife, looking so light and beautiful even while talking with her mouth full (a half-crocken smirk drawn to her left-side, like the smirk also articulated in the innocuous characteristics of her little Tommy after he was born, which reminds her so much of the radiance that used to gleam in the sweet features of her former companion).

Her ex-wife wasn't always a lonesome and distant creature creeping in the corners of her mind, and it genuinely aches inside her chest to remember that.

Y/N always devoured lavishly every traditional Sokovian dish she has ever prepared and promptly asked for more – and then thanked her with a chaste kiss placed on the pulp of her lips, which promptly evolved into the building of an intimate, sweaty moment with two bodies rubbing greedily against each other.

But she soon lets out a crestfallen, rather disillusioned sigh, repressing herself for having gone back to those secluded memories amorously stored in the edge of her brain in the first place (of the concept of two adolescent girlfriends absorbed in love in the purest sense of the word, emulating the seriousness of a relationship with adult bearing, but never losing, at its core, the youthful sweetness worthy of teenage lovers). Two girls playing love in a world that was a little too hard on them.

She glares ruefully at the bulbous base of the red wine bottle and then lets out a sorrowful exhalation.

Her relationship with Y/N felt like it was straight out of the old sitcoms that she always appreciated so much, where no problem was a genuine obstacle and that, by the end of the day, the two lovers would be in each other's affectionately secure arms again (and that perhaps she let have an effect on her a little too much, when dealing about decisions made early on in her adult life).

But then she reminisces that she was merely turning eighteen years old when she became a wanted on an international scale, and that, prior to that, she had also grown up in a war-torn country.

She never knew how to behave like a normal person per se – whether that was before or after she became able to expel bolts of magical energy from her fingertips. She never quite knew how to fit into the role of a child or a young adult in the first place. Not by herself.

There was no time in Wanda’s life to understand precisely how to fit these labels (she was protesting with so much loathe constricted within her heart, volunteering to save her homeland, being made of little more than a lab rat by the clutches of a bunch of mad men, being used by the being that promised her greatness, but only ended up costing her the life of her darling brother).

In the cramped confines of a bleak, sullied cell, with only a modest television in the corner to entertain her mind away from the needles and the brutality, there were not many allusions of love and passions that elapsed through her life outside a square screen.

Wanda was aware that she just mimicked other people's movements and transcribed them into her own actions, as if it was all just a show and she was its young star, trying to intomb in her core the path of catastrophe and violence that had always shadowed her closely; it was only the years of strict therapy, self-knowledge and self-care, right after being blipped and coming back, that edified her to be her own person in a truly healthy way. There would be no more extremes in her life.

Her cohabitation with Y/N at the time facilitated, of course – even though her wife had changed a lot in the time that followed since the blip, at first, things had worked out well between them. Or as well as possible under the anomalous circumstances.

The two of them took care of the (still) newborn twins and of each other, always with great tenderness and affection while they did it. At least that's how it worked for the first year after their reunion – until Y/N got into alcohol's graces for good, that is.

Their relationship had always felt rather light and jovial before Thanos snapped his fingers. And after that she might even have come back, but it was indeed her marriage that had turned to dust in that remote dreary day in Wakanda. In all honestly, she's not quite sure what's changed in that meantime that she's been away (dead, she was dead). And it's uneasy to ponder about it, but sometimes she does – she can’t help it.

Her corporeal existence had disintegrated into a sift of life, crumbling into her own ashes. There was color, and then the dreadfully wide expanse of emptiness (death); she, as a self-aware being, ceased to exist with just a thought and a snap of two fingers.

Her consciousness faded before she could even realize she was doing it – the palms of both her hands constrained firmly against the wound in YN's stomach that was leaking bundles of fresh blood. And Wanda never relatively questioned her existence before that (she only questioned why she ceased to exist in the first place). Returning to dust, as people of faith would say.

Five long years that slipped through her fingers and dripped onto the floor in the form of a veil of dust.

It still feels odd in her guts, even ten years later, to remember that there's a void somewhere in her life that would be filled with the time that was thieved from her by the Infinity Gauntlet. A void that had once been filled by the subtle presence of Y/N's love.

(Once, when the twins were about a year old after the blip, Y/N drunkenly knelt down with her face defectively reclining on Wanda’s thighs and questioned her as to why Wanda and the babies where the ones erased from existence while she stayed behind, abandoned like an old piece of furniture that no one wants to use anymore. Wanda never knew how to answer it, but they got divorced about a month later)

But she imagines that it, the crumbliness of their relationship, has something to do with the fact that they were both a little precocious in getting married before their twenties properly speaking; maybe if they were older and more experienced before doing it, she thinks, standing in line at the supermarket, maybe then they wouldn't have had the sorrowful culmination that they did (the crying faces and the broken hearts).

Maybe they could have risen together, and not just drifted further and further away as the days passed.

Maybe Y/N didn't feel guilt-ridden every time the twins cried in need to be held or fed. Maybe Wanda wouldn't have queried her for the love she no longer knew how to give – she is fully aware of the fact that she has always had a somewhat pushy nature, after all.

Maybe this, maybe that.

She doesn't know why she's been thinking about maybe so much these past few days. But it's not her fault that her ex-wife happens to be so pleasing to the eye.

The person behind her in line grumbles again, and there is a mischievous chuckle that reaches her ears with airs of grace. Wanda is sincerely considering summoning some coins with her magic for Mrs. Davis.

“Oh my God, this wine is divine!”

It is Sarah Proctor who addresses Wanda, the key to undeniably everything in this town. Wanda knows it's the other woman because a sudden pulsing urge to fade away takes over her nervous system as soon as the voice echoes behind herself.

She is the high-nose blonde woman who lives up the street, is a devoted member of the Westview Elementary School parent-teacher association (in the year before Wanda had witnessed her make a young teacher leave the room in tears after a meeting), proudly cultivates the most exquisite yellow roses in the neighborhood and wears a pair of classy yoga pants that would fit a young teenager with half of her age. A self-proclaimed wine mom.

Her daughter is a classmate of Billy and Tommy, and the children often attend both the Proctor and Maximoff residences – which occasioned in Sarah a vague idea of intimacy that only endures in the head of the blonde woman with bobbed hair.

She has already invited Wanda several times to Westview Pool Club girls' gatherings, but Wanda politely declined with an odd smile and a trivial wave of her hand, because she's never been the socially outgoing kind of type—and she's always been under the impression that every attempt Sarah made from approaching her were due to the fact that the other woman knew of her past as an Avenger (as did most of the small-town citizens), and so was trying to turn her into a kind of living-tourist-spot for the eyes of the rest of the world to witness.

(Rumors had it that Sarah would run for mayor in the upcoming election, and having a former Avenger as the face of her campaign certainly sells well with the predilections of the American public. Little does she know that Wanda won't vote for her)

“Oh yes, it's one of my favorites” Wanda retorts, talking about the dark tall bottle of red wine prudently deposited inside her plastic basket “It's been a while since I've had a drink, so I decided to buy a bottle to open this weekend”

“Some special occasion, I suppose?” Sarah articulates a suggestive grin, but Wanda just frowns uncertainly, half squinting at her neighbor.

“What- no, no. No” she flashes a half embarrassed, half awkward smile, chuckling nervously while doing so “Y/N is staying with the boys for the weekend, so it's just a special little thing for me. All by myself. A quarantine-style staycation. A whole weekend... just to myself"

“Y/N, huh?” Sarah raises a well-crafted eyebrow in a pique of curiosity “Your ex-wife, right? I remember seeing her at the twins' birthday party. I mean, she's pretty, yes, but she's quite the quiet type, huh...”

“Yeah, she was never one to talk much… but neither am I, honestly"

“A pair made in heaven, indeed” Sarah then flashes a smile, but the taste that slides across Wanda's tongue is bitter and kind of hard to swallow.

She shifts her body weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other.

“But wait, she's also an Avenger, isn’t she? Yeah, she's the one in the black and white outfit! Oh my God! Who wore a jacket over it and had that kinda mean attitude, all punk rock and stuff?”

“Herself” Wanda agrees, pressing her lips together in a long, clumsy line. She just wants to go home and cook her damn kugel.

“Oh my, how did I not notice this before? I remember seeing her in the news once, when I was in college. I also had a taste for delinquents back then, if you know what I mean”

Wanda feels a hot twinge high in her face and she bites the inside of her cheek in a rather timid act (but there's no denying that Y/N's somewhat rebellious attitude has always had a lewd effect on her legs as a young teenager with a schoolgirl’s heart).

“She and Black Widow, I think, saved the life of the mayor in that bombing on the Fourth of July in... 2015, 2016, maybe? Yeah, I remember that! She's the one who's super strong, isn't she? Who held up a scaffold once and saved those kids”

"That's her, yes"

The brunette muss in a limp voice, which seems to draw a slightly indecent laugh from the blonde woman with her shopping cart full of knick-knacks and silver hoops clicking in her earlobes. It is from her that the aroma of sturdy perfume comes.

“Well, I imagine that super strength of hers comes in handy in some… situations”

“Situ-“ but then she blinks just one time “Oh”

Mortification hangs over Wanda like a bucket of paint spilled over her dark-haired head.

She opens and closes her mouth like a golden fish, frowning, and her cheeks don't take long to reach strong shades of scarlet, glowing red like one of the tomatoes inside Sarah's cart.

It's inappropriate, and she knows it, but she can't help but feel a certain tingle in her breasts as lapses of memory enlighten her thoughts with the ghost of touches coursing along her body. Then she thinks of Y/N's warm, measured breath against her earlobe (of strong hands pinning her wrists above her head, of a tense, impassive hip against her own hip, of the cracked headboard and the broken bedframe). A movement and a moan. An electrical discharge in her bowels.

And then, fuck...

Just Y/N tearing her insides apart.

The other woman smiles viciously, and Wanda suddenly wishes she hadn't put on a sweater before leaving the house, because she can actually feel herself starting to perspire at the expectant look her neighbor bestows on her.

She's never been one to deal with such intimacies with anyone other than her ex-wife (merely some casual, unsuccessful and sporadic blind dates that's never been more than a few kisses and a few touches here and there, by no means ending up in her or anyone else's bed).

But she permits herself only to flash a wan grin towards the other woman when she realizes that, in front of her, the old lady has lastly found her damn change.

Fucking finally.

And then, with the memory still boiling hungrily in her innards, like a hungry beast devouring her from the inside out, she takes a large step in the other direction, trying to walk away from Sarah as humanly possible, as if the other woman carries with her a toxic cloud that sickens everything that comes in contact with her.

If Wanda couldn't probably get a nice lawsuit for that (or worst), she'd turn Sarah into a disgusting slimy frog.

“Well, I, I, I need to go, Sarah, but it was really nice meeting you around here. Bye” the enchantress raises her wrist, bidding the blonde woman goodbye with a wave of her hand and a small, introverted (half-awkward) grin.

There is barely time for an answer to be formulated on the part of the housewife. Wanda's cheeks are still red hot as she (virtually) dashes through the small supermarket's automatic double doors like a fugitive on the run. Mrs. Davis drops a coin on the floor on her way out.

ᗢ

You don't know exactly how long you've been raising and lowering the joint of your bent elbow above your head. It doesn't feel right to do it, just as it doesn't do it if it feels wrong. It's just necessary – it’s like cracking some eggs if you're in the mood for an omelet for breakfast.

You just have the fullest conception that a few good minutes have passed since the beginning of all the activity, and as in the rehearsal of a play, you are repeating the gestures until you overcome them with great proficiency and your culmination comes out perfect, from your liking.

And you don't bother to intend to stop doing it anytime soon – such a guttural, animalistic and barbaric action. At this point, the movement is already instinctive after being recorded in at the core of your memory, an automatic message engraved between the ligaments of your neurons.

You've done it innumerable times before, and you know you'll do it a few more times after this one.

You lift your right arm, lowers your implacable fist constricted like a steel ball, the resonance of smashed cartilage and wrecked bones echoing in your eardrums, all instructed by the figure of a bloodthirsty invisible conductor within the ramparts of your own cranium.

The face of the bewildered guy lying beneath you looks like a loaf of raw, misshapen meat as you repeat a cadence of sequentially delivered punches against his facial bones.

And he, who is at least twice as big as you, lets out a piercing howl of pain from the cavernous depths of his throat, as even a wild bear would do if attacked deep in a forest.

But in that alley on Long Island there is not a soul available to help him to get rid of your uncomplacent fists – not at the end of a passage that is unpopulated, far from prying eyes that could creep in your direction during the action which takes place there, a beacon of environment squeezed between two amorphous walls of scorched bricks, which gives the illusion of a single long, damp, narrow street.

A sphere of blood is clotted on your face, like an eccentric gemstone, a dark red pearl splattered under the arch of your left eyebrow. And you pant heavily, your veins stiffening.

You've never been one to refuse punching a motherfucker in the face – your forte has always been pounding up things, whether on the countless missions conveyed alongside your teammates or at work during your teenage years, taking advantage of your inhuman gifts to have something to eat at the end of the week.

You've never had a dilemma in whacking someone’s ass. Even more so when that said someone had committed a hate crime against a racial minority and got away with the trial, because that's the way it is in New York City.

The recurring metallic scent of fresh blood squirts in a jet of reddish color, thick and gleaming across your rigid, compact knuckles. The gruesome fragrance is no stranger to your sense of smell, and you're not quite sure whether you want it to be or not.

But it is what you are; as an inherent component of your biological chemistry (like the serum gushing through Steve's veins, altering him from inside out, or the magic pulsing within Wanda's core, changing the structure of her brainwaves), you know that hostility is a primeval part of your nature longer than the placid ends of an ordinary, quiet life.

The peaceable domestic life lived alongside Wanda is long gone, and desolation and wrath are your only roommates within the walls of your morbidly valueless apartment.

You've been living like a cornered animal for fifteen years in programmed mode, always exposing your fangs and your claws at any sign of danger, just self-destructing, dying little by little, not craving to exist for one more day after laying your head on the blandishments of your pillow and staring blankly at the ceiling, whirling through your usual drunken state. Just desiring to somehow wreck your imperishable body that can't be cut or torn by human hands or tools.

People much well-intentioned than you are long gone, and you, by some implausible probabilities, were (cursed) fortunate to have endured thorough all the catastrophes that life directed at you.

The car accident as a child. The blip as a mother and as a wife, as a friend.

The damn journey by the mountain of Vormir, in which three of you went in the grip of that appallingly isolated planet, and only two came back with a chest full of oxygen and life pumping through your nervures. The avid combat for proprietorship of all the six Infinity Stones, and the provenance of the final snap that brought back peace to the equilibrium of the universe by eliminating the existence of its greatest known threat at the time.

You just seem to live confined in this unbearable cycle of misfortune, and it's not fair to others that you are the person left to tell the story of those who are gone.

If only you could, you would swap places with the true heroes who gave their lives for the greater good. You would even be honored to do so yourself.

Your chest heaves and deflates severely within the molds of your leather jacket fitted around your shoulders over a short-sleeved plain shirt, your veins bulging with rushing blood, and you rise to your feet, setting up your knees, and step back to inspect the big man who lies defeated to the floor of the alley, amidst a pool of his own blood and filth typical of places like this — your jacket sleeve shimmering with bundles of fresh blood, a coat of gleaming sweat limping glistening on the beam of skin on your forehead, near your hairline.

He is still alive, groaning in a vital position, and is severely battered. And it was never your intention to kill anyone. He probably learned his lesson. Maybe you should break his legs, just in case.

A tremor rolls under your black sneaker feet as a loud motorcycle passes by in the distance. Sirens also pass presently afterwards, coming and going with their blue and red outcome.

But there, squeezed inside the claustrophobic walls of the dim alley, you are far from any possible intervention. You then register a single shake that travels along the outline of your left leg as your cellphone pulses inside the back pocket of your old jeans, shivering against your hip bone.

You take an elongated gulp of air before diving into your flickering pocket and hooking the device through your fuming, blooded finger length. You know your pupils are dilated and dark.

Your gaze is empty and brittle as you scrutinize between the digitally formed words before your motionless eyes.

Frequent bursts of oxygen are a method of neutralizing the pulses of adrenaline throbbing in the artery inside your neck. But the taste that slips between your teeth is acid and sour, and you lock your jawbone at the information that is cognitive to you.

Hey, Y/N. Are you really going to come get the boys tonight? I saw in the weather forecast that it will rain later, so I wanted to check with you just to make sure

(seen)

It’s Wanda

(seen)

By the way

(seen)

Yes, you know it's Wanda (your sweet Wanda, the trace of humanity lingering inside your icy chest), that she texted you. And it doesn't astonish you at all (not anymore), because not many people contact you lately during the sunny period of the day.

You two have been keeping in touch the last few days, after all, you told her that you wanted to be more present in the twins' lives. And it's not an untruth at all, but your sly creaking anxiety makes you feel like it's a kind of uncertainty inside your throbbing stomach walls.

Maybe it's not the right decision, the voice inside your head spoke. Maybe at this point in life they don't need you anymore. Maybe this is a breakthrough, or even the commencement of a calamity worthy of a Greek novel, you're not quite sure yet.

You turn on your heels and spin your back on the battered man, so you can send your reply to your ex-wife's number without looking at the ferocious outcome of your latent tantrum.

yup, your avid thumbs type along the digital keyboard provided on the screen of the small electronic device, i’ll be there in 1 hour or so. hope they like cheeseburgers.

And then you slide your upper teeth along the flesh of your lower lip, somewhat unsure of how to proceed.

try to enjoy your staycation btw. you deserve it

(seen)

You don't know why you sent her that stupid emoji.

It's not like you're a teenager reproducing a failed flirtation attempt with the girl you have a crush on anymore.

But a lapse of realism is present as your vision aims on the blood folds on your stinging fingers folded around the cellphone, and you feel a heavy ball of constricted lamentation taking shape in the back of your throat when your sorrowful eyes scrutinize thorough the lines of your hands and find there only odious signs of a cavernous viciousness (a raw, physical cruelty also reflected within the mirror of your shattered soul).

In the background, the man is still groaning in pain. And you're not sorry you broke him in a beating. No, no. You're just sorry for yourself, because you didn't bat an eye when you did it.

Vaguely the memory of Wanda placing chaste kisses along your hands invades you, and you realize you wouldn't want her to kiss your unseemly fingers right now (because you find her too pure to dwell on the filthiness of your touch).

The skin on your hands abruptly itches and feels dull, and you don't feel like having those plagued fingers around your children’s immaculate faces anymore.

ᗢ

The twilight of dusk breaks with the trepidation of an ingrained thunder, which rumbles all in a glow of white light that splits along the longitudinal path that comprised the pleasant suburb that is Westview.

So, this is an opaque afternoon resulting from the middle of the rainy day, gray and hazy in its chilly essence, with tenuous threads of a torrential drizzle protecting the foundations of the two-story house on the slopes of the street, making the dewy ivy rustle on its ground, dripping slowly from the eaves of the ceramic tiles.

Standing on the porch of Wanda's house, you ponder that you should have listened to the weather forecast when it was said that during the afternoon there would be a period of rain. Your dark hoodie is really soaked through and your hair, pulled back in a high half ponytail, is damp against the skin of your own forehead. You feel kind of stupid.

Compact, opulent, slate-colored clouds were uneven against the emerald green of the panorama of howling houses, hills and trees, like the leaning of thick smoke from a desolate fire.

A fierce storm, nevertheless, is not anomalous in the face of the oscillating spring climate of the state of New Jersey, which is not a real stranger to the rainy weather of the season. Thus, the nonstop drizzle is not the atypical episode of the day altogether.

The conquering event of such a rank happens when Wanda opens the door and finds you there, standing with your elbows dripping cold droplets water in the light wood entrance, and then pulls you into the cozy embrace of the pleasant climate established within that domestic environment of her own home.

“For God’s sake, Y/N, you're soaking wet!”

She reiterates, surveying you with an apprehensive gaze that runs the length of your head to toe, her slender ringless fingers still pressed worriedly around the outline of your right forearm tucked beneath the humid fabric of your damp blouse – but Wanda doesn't seem to realize as she's still carries with the action, and you kind of don't want her to let go of you anytime soon, so you say nothing about the warm touch tingling on your cold skin.

“Yeah, the rain started when I was halfway there and there was no way for me to avoid it, so I just went with it” you mutter, with a certain lack of interest smoldering in your quiet voice “Sometimes I wish I still had a car...”

“But you didn't bring an umbrella?” Her gaze is accusatory in your direction, the tone of voice sounding dangerously concerned inside your ears.

“Well” you kind of sigh, shrugging your shoulders within your hoodie, without looking her straight in the eye “You see, I, hah… I didn’t think it was actually going to… you know… to rain”

And then you look at her, and the exact facial expression you'd expect to find there makes its way until it slides all over her face. She’s pissed off.

“But I told you it was going to rain!” she then frowns at you, looking a little exasperated while doing it, her beautiful features drenched in an irritated tone of incredulity “Seriously Y/N, you need to listen to what I say more! What if you get sick?”

You flick an eyelid at the grumpy figure of a very upset Wanda standing right in front of you, exhaling aromas of tea and crimson color. It's funny how the pique of nostalgia slips through your bones – there is an air of familiarity when a subtle sense of déjà vu settles into your cognitive system, like the feeling of coming home after a long trip. You feel at home. You feel belonging.

This image is very cherished to your spirit, and you can't help but to articulate a small grin that feels light in your heart in front of your ex-wife, who then aims towards your gaze with a gleam that is an assortment of misunderstanding and irritability flickering in the greenish irises, the color that look like two emerald stones embedded within her eyeballs, curving a single one of her sharp dark eyebrows in an high arching cut.

You feel married to her again for half a fraction of a second – it's like your remote newlywed routine all over again. And the feeling is actually good.

She looks so pretty. It's like you could kiss her lips right there.

“What? What's so funny?”

Wanda questions you in an almost petulant way, and you let out a pleasant chuckle as she tilts her head slightly to the side of her right elbow, her chin pointing toward the tip of your nose – her typical irritating movement as the harbinger of an angry reaction to anything that troubles her spirit.

“You know I'm physically incapable of getting sick, don't you?” you declare, still with a smile carved along the outline of your own lips, and Wanda crosses her forearms close to her chest in an even vaguely embarrassed way in front of you.

She was always a stubborn bratty type anyways.

“It's that super durability mutant thing or some shit like that. At least that's what Banner told me once, and he's a smart guy, so I believe him” you casually shrug, “I haven't had a cold since I was, like, thirteen. Shit, I don't even know if I remember what it's like anymore. You don't have to worry about me, Wanda"

“W-well,” she exasperated in a timidly cute way, even a little childish in essence, pressing her open palms against the sides of her hips well-guarded by a pair of pale mom jeans – the attire so far from the miniskirts and chains and torn clothes she used to wear when she was younger, at the apex of her mean girl phase.

Today isn't the first time you've noticed that her waist got wider as a result of the prudent ripening endowments of late adulthood blossoming into her beautiful body-type. It suits her well. You want to touch her skin through the fabric of those flimsy jeans and the thin white cotton blouse; your fingers itch to do it.

“Just because you don't get sick like other people it doesn’t mean you can walk around in the rain whenever you feel like it. You look like a wet dog right now, you know”

“Alright, alright, I get it” you raise both your hands to shoulder height in a placid gesture of surrender “No more walks in the rain”

“You're impossible, Y/N” she then rolls her green eyes into their sockets, but you just smirk jokily at her reaction.

It only takes a nonchalant magical flutter of Wanda's wrist, with her right five fingers all enveloped in a fading mist of crimson steam, for the well-versed witch to make your garments still swell on your body, expelling from the bristles of fabric, as even in a chemical separation reaction, the water molecules that soaked them in the first place.

It's like a huge hair dryer blowing hot air the entire length of your body and then unexpectedly stopping as if pulled from the socket, making your skin temperature pleasant again like a sunny embrace all around your body.

You find yourself dry in a matter of seconds, from your socks to your underwear, thanks to her remarkable magical gifts.

The tingles consequential from the scarlet mist touching your skin still slither down the length of your body. It is familiar and eccentrically comforting – it's like eating again a candy that you used to eat during the preludes of your childhood; tastes like home and happiness.

“You know what, your powers come in handy sometimes, I’ll give you that” you say in a mocking tone of voice, and she raises a single eyebrow in response.

"I'm still considering throwing you out for dripping water on my carpet, just so you know"

Wanda just casts a weary glance in your direction, but there's a slight lighthearted tone that resides in the green outline of her graceful irises, as if an inside joke has taken hold between you two.

She smiles, and so do you, because you feel comfortable while doing it – a pair of complicit grins from someone whose chest is filled of joy and fullness. The atmosphere that sets in is comfortable, and you feel more relaxed being close to her.

You don't really do it, but it feels like your fingers are entwined with the fingers of her own hand – the specter of touch is written between the two of you, and it's as if your soul can really feel hers at its core, like two magnets that can't stop attracting each other instantaneously. You've always gravitated towards Wanda's overwhelming presence, and things won't be any different now.

“Come on, the boys are watching cartoons in the living room” Wanda says, then turning her back on you so that you follow her lead to the intimates of the house, “You can stay until the rain stops”

You follow after your ex-wife without further circumlocution, the two of you passing through the small and comfy entrance hall as you go after Wanda into the large rectangular living room, your hands always tucked inside the single pocket of your hoodie as you accompany her with phlegmatic steps in your essence.

Your shoulders feel even lighter as she turns to you and casually offers you the sweetest smile you've ever seen in your life.

Torrential rain is still pouring down from the sky outside the house, and the boys Billy and Tommy can be seen wearing warm, comfortable clothes, both the twins snuggled up against the back of the gray linen sofa, their little smart eyes looking smilingly at each other’s faces and not towards the television screen, where some cartoon that seems unfamiliar to you is shown.

They seem to share some secret that only two people with some primal connection as to what unites them would be able to do it, but the sounds of banter irrigated in the air of childish shenanigans reveals the mockery between their giggles.

They are brothers and they are twins, yes, two parts of a whole, born of the same womb that they shared from the beginning of their existence as two living beings, but you were always a little happier to realize the closeness established in the friendship between your children. Billy and Tommy are each other's best friends.

The pair then seem to make themselves aware of the presence of their two mothers as they enter the room, and the smiles of both children scintillate in enthusiasm as the pairs of eyes look up and acknowledge your appearance a little further behind Wanda's still figure, following her very closely, ceasing the small section of chitchats they had between the two of them.

"Mom!"

"Mommy!"

From the sofa the boys joyfully call out to you, beaming in your direction. You can't help but do the same to them.

“Hey, my demons spawn. What are you up to there, huh?”

“We were preparing something! Okay, so, mom,” Billy speaks in response, barely seeming to be able to contain the glee of excitement inside his tiny body.

"Listen to this-!" Tommy complements his brother's phrase, in a tone of enthusiastic anticipation.

"Hey, I want to start it!" but the other twin intervenes promptly, almost indignantly.

Tommy frowns, turning up his freckled little nose towards a rather annoyed Billy, who is sitting next to his left elbow. The little boy briefly tilts his head to the left side towards his brother, and you know you've seen similar action in Wanda's characteristic mannerisms.

“No, I want to start it!”

"I want to start it!"

“But I want to start it!”

“I want to start it!”

“Why don't you both” Wanda then promptly interferes with the small disagreement between the boys, increasing her mother's reproachful tone of voice a little, preventing, at the beginning, that the intrigue takes a somewhat bigger proportions “Start it together?”

“Yeah” you support her in a complacent tone of voice “You two came up with the idea together, so the right thing would be to do it together too. Whatever it is, I mean”

"Okay"

"Okay..."

The two of them mutter almost in almost defeated tune, fidgeting together on the couch. You think that they look cute while they're there, tiny and sitting like two baby rabbits.

"You ready?" Billy questions in a low voice, turning to the brother beside him.

“Yeah” Tommy mussed back, nodding in agreement.

“Okay,” says Billy then, almost proudly, “Three, two, one, go”

And then, you can barely contain a smirk when the boys, in different and discrepant voice tones, begin a silly chant in their thin children's voices. In the corner of your peripheral vision, you notice that Wanda also lets out an amorous smile, melting into a comfortable puddle of kindness, dying in love with her two singing little children sitting across from the two of you.

“We like ice cream like any child should” they hum together, vocalizing playful tones as they proceed through the song's component words, “And if we get some ice cream, we pro-mise to be… good!”

Then they look towards the two of you, displaying expectant smiles written all over their childish faces. And you and Wanda exchange glances, and the smile she offers you is very similar to the one that graces the curve of Billy's lips.

"Nice try, smarty-pants, but you haven't even had dinner yet"

“But mama” Tommy replies in a pleading tone of voice “We really want ice cream!”

“Yes, we want ice cream!” exclaims Billy in agreement "We can't wait!"

“Well, we can have dinner first, then ice cream. What do you guys think?" you offer them, your eyes darting towards Wanda's face "But you need to have dinner first to grow to be strong and healthy, and ice cream is for dessert only. Right, mama?"

Wanda looks in your direction, and then smiles. And you smile back, because the situation is prone to do so. You, for the first time in so long, feel welcomed and hassle-free in the presence of others.

The air inside the house is blissful and warm, so unlike your empty, disdainful apartment forgotten somewhere on the West Side of Midtown Manhattan. Wanda doesn't feel like your ex-wife right now – at least, that's not how she looks at you.

“Right” her eyes flash pale green beams towards you “Let's have dinner first, mommy”

ᗢ

You wake up in the middle of the night, but maybe you just haven't fallen asleep at all.

The sheets that grace the bottom of your body are soft and comfortable, and the pajama set you wear is not your property. It's late in the course of the long night, and like so many that have passed before this one, you just know you wouldn't be able to rest your relaxation anytime soon.

How could you even do it? Perhaps you stayed longer than you realized detailing the gloomy ceiling of Wanda's guest room, counting in your mind as you scrutinized every passing second so that you still had control over something (time being something), so that you wouldn't go mad at being dismembered alive by each of your own inner demons.

If the beginning of the night was watered in jubilation and a serene comforting coziness on your part, the firstfruits of the dawn soon came to frustrate you in the form of intrusive thoughts quite harmful to your twisted mental health.

The torrential rain didn't stop anytime soon, and after having dinner with Wanda and the boys (in a very warm congregation, you were sitting at the table with your family, eating the same food as them and breathing the same oxygen, always supported by grins of pleasure as you chatted eagerly with each other), and the twins were slow to fall asleep after two generous mugs of chocolate mint ice cream each.

Your ex-wife insisted that you stay for the night after the two of you carried them upstairs and deposited them in their respective tidy beds, showering each of them with chaste kisses to the tops of their childish heads – Wanda's little staycation was long-forgotten by then.

You let out a disturbed sigh, both palms of your hands polishing the length of the dull face of yours.

What the fuck, you think, what the fuck are you doing there? This may even be your family, but this is not your house. It's not your home. Not anymore.

Reverberating through your insides you find the throttling need for a drag of a cigarette eating away at the bottom of your lungs like a harmful parasite sucking the life from its source, and then you get up to do it, because lying down feels like it consumes you from within in a profuse haze of bubbling anxiety that bursts from your stomach to your mouth, making you feel so weak inside.

It has always struck you as a somewhat ironic cynicism on the part of the universe that you, who are possessed of an impenetrable shell on the outside, suffer so much from the brittle fragility of your own interior – hard skin does nothing to protect a broken mind.

The lavender bedclothes had begun to tighten the muscle in your neck after a while, and in the room just down the hall, you assume Wanda sleeps comfortably cuddling in her bed.

When searching inside the single pocket of your hoodie, the well-folded garment on top of a plain desk in the corner of the room, soaked in the darkness of the shadowy environment, the absconse pack of cigarettes from a brand that you are quite familiar with, that keeps you company in the acrimonious moments of solitude, you take a single cylindrical unit towards the spaces open to your drooping mouth and then you find the cold lighter with your fingertips, leaving for the entrance door of the room offered to you by your ex-wife.

After descending the stairs, stepping one step at a time with your bare feet, you are surprised that the door leading to the backyard is already open before you are even there, and the cold night wind has blown inside the house like a curious, invisible animal, installing an icy feeling of dysphoria within the broad walls.

But before you could search with your watchful eye for some intruder who went beyond the icy specter of the night, in avid state of alert, you notice an apollonian silhouette hunched outside, sitting on the step outside the door, with a long waterfall of soft hair in the color of a raven's down running halfway down her spine.

The restlessness that weighed heavily on your shoulders eased as the familiar full-bodied scent of hibiscus tea mixed with the sweetness of a mild strawberry shampoo slithered into your nostrils and filled your lungs thirsty for smoke and tobacco.

As you approach, you see that Wanda, wearing a sheer silk robe over a red nightgown, is accompanied by a large cup that exhales small clouds of steam, with the tiny bundle that carries the tea herbs submerged into the hot water inside the dark container.

"You really have loud thoughts" Wanda's small, soft voice ripples through the air and then hugs your body as your ex-wife turns toward you with a lingering slowness that, to you, is as familiar as the taste of your unsmoked cigarette.

Her eyes glow an intoxicating green hue amid the darkness of the night, only supported by the silver light of the moonlight coming from outside the residence.

You feel like a frog being studied on a silver platter in some high school biology class.

Wanda's diligent gaze always seemed to be able to penetrate through the cracks of your soul – she always understood you as if she were an expert when dealing with any subject concerning you.

You let out an uneasy sigh, oddly scratching the inside of your throat as you do.

"Sorry if I woke you up, it wasn't... it wasn't my... intention"

“It’s okay” she mumbles serenely over a sip of hot tea, the pulp of her nacarine lips being moistened by the hot liquid she's ingested.

“I still haven't been able to sleep anyway”

And it's no surprise to you, because you slept and woke up next to this woman for several of the component years of your life span, and it was always well known to you that Wanda is a woman quite affected by long sleepless nights, not being able to afford to actually close her eyes and be fortunate enough to have a good night's sleep.

Countless were the nights turned to morning dawns, when you both resided under the same roof in the compound back at the Avengers Tower, so many years before you were there, standing in the middle of her kitchen, silently watching her perform the simple act of drinking tea at her backyard door.

“Still having trouble sleeping?”

“Once in a while”

Wanda answers you, and with her eyes she indicates the empty space next to her right elbow so you can sit there.

“Sometimes I need to relearn how to sleep all by myself”

Without saying a word, you cross the entire length of the kitchen, passing by the island and the marble sink, to be seated on the marble step that freezes your warm skin, next to the woman who smells of hibiscus with strawberries and deep scarlet tones.

Her eyes recognize the figure of the unsmoked cigarette between your fingers, unlit and forgotten like the insignificant little rolled-up tobacco paper that it is, and then she looks toward the profile of your silhouette, blinking once with her thick eyelashes as she does so.

“You start smoking again?”

“Yeah, it's been a while, actually. Not that I'm proud of it”

Your gaze shifts to the small cylinder, turning it between the digits of your index and middle fingers of your tender right hand.

“That shit helps me calm down, I guess. Or at least I like to think so. I don’t know"

Silence touches both of you shoulders, and there is a moment for Wanda to sip more of the tea that has spilled into her cup. When the drink is gone, then all the way into her stomach, she places the container on the floor, close to her left ankle like a tame kitten, safe from her company.

You are still hesitating in the uncertainty of whether or not to light up that damned tempting cigarette.

“Earlier today,” she begins, immediately drawing your attention to her pretty face, and you're met with her pink lip as she clamps her upper teeth over the contour of her wet mouth.

“You and me and the boys... it was good. They like having you around. And I... I like it too, Y/N”

She hums in the sigh of the night. You feel a crackling feeling swelling inside your swollen chest, but you don't say anything in sequence, because it's Wanda who continues to converse in the silver moonlight.

“I had forgotten what it was like. Me and you acting like family. It's good, It’s… really good"

You choke relatively. For Wanda, a heartbeat rumbled in her ears. And then she looks at you, and you look at her.

And suddenly, you don't want to light that cigarette anymore – because she leans her chin forward, leaning her head towards you, and you do the same when your body cries out for her, lips colliding in midair like the consolidation of a wish, a scarlet fever supernova bursting within your own chest.

And then, the full-bodied freshness of hibiscus darts into the half-open breach in the gap between your lips, pressing a velvety tongue against the slit between your teeth, discharging into your mouth a red-sour-sweet flavor, definitely good though, but rougher than usual as the two of you now share a needy, somewhat sloppy, even animalistic kiss.

Even if there is indeed a need on Wanda's part, and you just need someone to scare you away from the evil inside your head.

Your ex-wife, in a thoughtless act, dives with her clever hands into the thin fabric of the tank top that clothes your impenetrable skin, grabbing the sides of your waist in a needy way, as if all she wanted at that moment was to feel you, as if her entire existence existed based on physically feeling you snuggled into her icy body.

She blinks, consenting to the overflow of her feelings, enraptured by the image of your cheeks burning and your chest heaving.

And she does what she thinks is right to do, which seems to be the only option possible in this small moment of affection and dedication, filled with an ember that if she could name it, she would call it love - because she knows she love you, even if she didn't say it out loud yet.

You are the love of her life, and she is the love of yours.

Wanda then hurls herself even farther forward, a nymph figure smitten with idolatry, and takes her prize, pressing the commission of her red lips against the outlined mouth with the flavor of melancholy that could belong to none other than you, so exotic, and never the same.

You feel the smart hands rest at the end of your spine with an almost practiced disregard, seeking nothing but feeling at first, far from the lascivious idea of consolidating the carnal act. Wanda just wants to feel you close, all to herself, comfortable in her grip.

Between a set of pink lips, a tongue is present, and this tongue curls up in another in a not hasty and exaggerated way. It's elegant. It's careful. It is harmonious.

But a slow kiss unravels, and Wanda holds her breath and returns in search of more of her favorite flavor to keep in her mouth, only to be promptly reciprocated by a devoted you, a soft nostalgic familiarity edging your silhouettes connected by the lips beneath a star-studded sky, with an absorbed perfection that no one else but the two of you would be able to achieve.

Up and down, side and side; surrounded by genuine attunement, lips moved carefully, following an invisible line that dictates your not so reckless actions.

A waltz of delicate, tangible lips that still fit together so perfectly, so neatly, that you might as well cry.

But the pacified kiss soon takes the form of a fervent kiss as you pant hot against your ex-wife's lips, and the fervent kiss becomes little kisses sprinkled around her neck that soon dissolve into a hollow moan, into a world where there didn't seem to be any more worries as long as you were in each other's arms.

In her own time, Wanda drags her teeth along the lower lip of your mouth, which groans deeply in response with a tingling in your throat, a tiny fraction of time passing until, like a buzz, quick, rough lips take refuge again in a tongue inside your mouth, and you feel an icy hand grasp your breast in a primitive way.

Clever fingers, soaked in crimson, traveled to your scalp, and a light mouth caresses yet another moan of yours. In a heartbeat, Wanda swings a leg over your knees and sits right on top of your lap, grabbing your wrists to put your hands around her waist.

The feeling is familiar. Toxically familiar.

It is the red invading your senses, intoxicating you with dense doses of scarlet.

You know very well that, even before the enticements of alcohol and cigarettes, your primary vice has always been the crimson sweetness of Wanda's body.

And, well… you're not known for being resistant to the temptations of your addictions.

ᗢ

A crimson marble glow glistening under the palms of both your hands. Sweat glistened in the hollow of your groin across your burning hips.

Wanda riding on your lap, naked as a Renaissance painting displayed in the dim light of a museum, her chest heavy like a marathon runner. The long, thick length of the red strap brushed against a specific spot on her inner walls that made her delirious and increasingly pivot her hips toward you, seeking more, brushing against each other like two animals in heat.

There was nothing rational in that animalistic act.

The symphony in the room was that of skin beating wet against skin; of her lascivious wetness voraciously swallowing your cock.

You could see it from the single, retracted drop of sweat that poured into the valley between her own swollen breasts, the two mounds swaying just before your lascivious eyes; a delight modulated to your stormy gaze, profuse as sea water, which clouded your young girlfriend's body with a predatory look, immersed in illicit labor.

Your insides tingled in a white-hot tingle, both clits sliding through the material of the strap, the insides of your thighs strong and wet against Wanda's pulsing center.

Her tight pussy pressing against the erect silicone phallus between your legs, the red of the material buffed with the sticky juices from inside of her. That was her bed, her sheets wet beneath your sweaty bodies, the walls of her room reverberating the pornographic grunts and moans from deep in her throat.

“F-fuck-!” she clenched her teeth, her nails lacquered with black nail polish carving red paths in the muscles of your back, “Y/N, fuck, right there, ah-!”

Her thick Sokovian accent spilled into your ears, and something primal and cavernous rumbled inside you, like a spark that explodes in a raging fire.

You wanted to own her.

You wanted to consume her.

You wanted to eat her alive; fuck her until the mold of your strap was forever etched into the walls of her greedy cunt, which was increasingly squeezing the silicone phallus, a delicious pressure forming a red knot just below her belly button.

“Ah-! Ah-!, pozhaluysta, pozhaluysta-!” she gasped in her native dialect, loud and clear against your ear as you fucked her as hard as possible “Trakhni menya... ya pochti u tseli, ya po-pochti u tseli... Ugh, dorogaya!”

“Fuck, are you close?”

“U-uhum! ” she kind of moaned, both eyes squinted two lewd lines “Please don't stop, don't stop Y/N, ah-!”

The scream was loud as you dropped her suddenly onto the sheets, her sweaty back slamming against the thick material of the mattress, her dark hair spilling across the pale material of the pillow.

You slipped your hands between the folds of both her knees and brought her lower back close, barely giving her time to miss your strap inside her dripping cunt before guiding the red material between her sticky folds, resuming the vigorous action of fucking your way against her coccyx.

Your strong hand pressed itself (as did the bone of your jaw) against the upholstered headboard, and there a rip was deferred by your own touch – as it had done to a plucked pillow, and a lampshade shattered to the ground.

The lamp above your heads flashed white. Wanda's eyes glowed a profuse scarlet that swallowed the moss green of her irises, the darkening of her dilated pupils making her eyes look like two bottomless wells of lust.

You buried your face against the beam of sweaty skin that joined her neck to her collarbone, and placed a generous, savage bite there.

"Fuck- I’m cumming, I'm cumming!" she decreed, panting against your bare neck, pressing her fingers against your buttocks in an incitement to the act they so indomitably committed.

“Cum for me Wanda” you murmured against her ear “Cum on my cock, pretty girl”

The bed hit the wall again. And again. And again.

You didn't stop at the first orgasm. Nor in the second. Nor on the third.

《《《《《《《ᱬ》》》》》》》

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