claramelooo

[claramelooo]

Their smiles 🥹🥹🥹

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Don't kill me and enjoy it <3

Pairing: Dark!Witch Wanda x Fem Reader

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warnings: angst, angst, angst (drop the knife now)

Summary: When Seline is born and everything seems to be peaceful, you almost forget what your destiny is… almost.

Hey. Now I've masterlist

OBLIVION

The muffled sound of blows echoed through the training room, keeping pace with the steady rhythm of heavy breaths. You tried to keep up with Natasha, but your growing belly made each movement more challenging. Natasha, as always, was flawless—agile, precise, and sporting a teasing smirk as she effortlessly dodged your attacks.

"You're getting slow," she taunted, circling around you with the grace of a panther.

"You're not carrying a child, Romanoff," you replied, your voice firm but breathless.

"That's no excuse," Natasha countered, throwing a punch that stopped inches from your face before pulling back. "If you were my enemy, this... slowdown of yours would be enough to lose."

You shot her an exasperated look, but there was something in Natasha's eyes that didn’t match her words—a hidden concern, a care she masked behind her teasing.

"I'm here to train, not to be insulted," you replied, blocking another strike but feeling the fatigue build.

"This is training," Natasha said, stepping back and crossing her arms, watching you with an expression that was half-critical, half-amused. "And insults are part of the package."

You huffed, taking a few steps back and resting your hands on your hips as you caught your breath. "Maybe you should try carrying a child and then tell me how easy it is."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smile. "I'll pass. I'd rather deal with hostile agents and assassins—they're more predictable."

You laughed, but the ache in your muscles didn’t fade. As Natasha relaxed, crossing her arms and watching you, her gaze drifted again to your belly.

"You're obsessed, Romanoff," you said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not," she replied quickly, but the lie was obvious.

"Yes, you are. Look at you—you seem like you're about to fall apart."

She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. "It’s just... strange," Natasha finally said, her voice softer, almost hesitant. "Seeing a woman like this."

"Like what?" you asked, challenging, as you grabbed a water bottle.

"Vulnerable and yet so happy."

The word hung between you, heavy yet full of meaning. Natasha, always so controlled, always burying her emotions deep, seemed to be letting more slip than she intended.

"Nat," you said, approaching slowly. "Do you want to feel it?"

She froze, surprise evident on her face. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Natasha hesitated, a rare moment of uncertainty flashing in her gaze. "Because it's not... my thing. I'm not good with this."

"This?" you pressed, tilting your head. "Emotions in general?"

Natasha sighed, a sound of both frustration and resignation. "Yeah."

"Well," you said with a soft smile, taking her hand before she could protest, "maybe you should practice."

You guided her hand to your belly, and Natasha didn’t resist. For a moment, she stayed still, almost as if afraid of doing something wrong. Then Seline responded with a strong kick, right where Natasha’s hand rested.

"She kicked," Natasha said, surprised, her eyes wide.

"She likes you," you replied, smiling.

Natasha remained silent, her hand still on your belly. There was something in her expression you couldn’t fully decipher—a mix of wonder, vulnerability, and perhaps a glimpse of something she rarely let show.

When she finally pulled away, her composure returned, but there was a soft glow in her eyes. "It’s getting late. We’ll train more tomorrow."

Without waiting for a response, Natasha turned and walked away, but you knew there was much more behind that façade than she was willing to admit.

The Tower's dining table was as lively as ever. Plates were scattered, conversations overlapped, and you, at the center of it all, were attacking your third plate like it was a competition. Thor and Tony watched with expressions of mixed fascination and disbelief.

"I swear, I haven’t seen anyone eat this much since I brought that boar to Asgard," Thor commented, resting his elbows on the table as he watched you with a delighted grin.

Tony, of course, didn’t miss the chance to chime in. "Seriously, what’s in there? A black hole? Or are you training for an eating olympics?"

You paused, your mouth full of pasta, raised an eyebrow, and swallowed before replying with a defiant smile. "Are you really going to disrespect a Guardian?"

Thor let out a hearty laugh, slapping the table. "Guardian or not, this is impressive!"

Before Tony could add anything, you leaned in slightly towards him. "And a Maximoff, don’t forget."

That was enough to silence Stark for a second, but the moment was interrupted by a familiar presence. Wanda entered the kitchen, her gaze instantly finding you and then the two instigators.

"Maximoff?" she asked, a sharp sweetness in her voice. Her eyes slowly moved between Tony and Thor. "Is there something I should know?"

Thor, immediately catching her tone, raised his hands in surrender. "We were just teasing her, Wanda. No harm meant."

Tony, however, didn’t know when to quit. "We’re just saying she’s eating like she’s been challenged by you."

Wanda crossed her arms, a red glow starting to emanate from her hands as she tilted her head threateningly. "Challenged by me?"

The room fell silent. You had to admit, Wanda knew how to make an entrance. Feigning innocence, you shrugged and pointed at the two of them. "They’re questioning my abilities, love."

Wanda gave a small smile, but her expression still carried that playful menace. "Are they now?"

Thor stood abruptly, laughing nervously. "I just remembered—I have... training!" He hurried out, muttering something about battles and honor.

Tony took a step back, raising his hands. "Alright, you win. I’m officially out."

As the two left the room, Wanda approached, sitting beside you. She grabbed a piece of bread from your plate, biting into it, her eyes shining with amusement. "Do you really need me to handle them?"

"I do. It’s more impactful," you replied, laughing as you reached for another bite.

Wanda chuckled softly, relaxing beside you. "Well, I think they’ve learned to respect a Maximoff and her Guardian now. Priceless."

"It has a price," you said, grabbing another slice of lasagna. "And it’s paid in lasagna. Want some?"

Wanda laughed again, taking a forkful, her laughter filling the room. It was an ordinary night in the Tower—chaos, food, and veiled threats. In other words, perfection.

The atmosphere in the main room of the Tower was relaxed, as always, when the Avengers began teasing each other. Wanda was sitting next to you on the couch, her fingers lazily tracing circles on your hand, when Clint was the first to start provoking.

“You know, Maximoff, age seems to be catching up with you,” he said with a mischievous grin. “Ever thought about retiring? Maybe taking up knitting?”

Tony laughed, adding, “Yeah, because if it were an agility contest, you wouldn’t stand a chance against us.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, scoffing in disbelief. “Nice try.”

The lighthearted mood took on a competitive edge as Tony leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with mockery. “Show us you can do more than mess around with younger girls,” he said, a sharp smile spreading across his lips.

The comment made you press your lips together to stifle a laugh, while Wanda merely stared at him, her eyes narrowing, and a dangerous calm settling over her face. “Do you really want to go down that road, Stark?”

“Why not?” he replied, casually gesturing with a coffee cup in hand. “We could use some entertainment, and who better than the Scarlet Witch to impress us?”

Clint, laughing in the background, added, “I’ll bet five bucks she can’t take me down this time.”

Thor shook his head, lifting Mjolnir. "I, on the other hand, bet Maximoff has enough tricks to keep us on our toes."

But before she could respond, you leaned in, biting her ear and giving her a pleading look. "Give them a little taste, love?"

Wanda gave a crooked smile, her fingers still tracing circles on your hand, as if the conversation hadn't affected her at all. But you could feel her energy shift, the growing excitement at the provocation. "You're all feeling so confident today," she remarked, standing gracefully. "Let's see how much of that is true."

"Training room?" Steve suggested, already on his feet, wearing that competitive grin.

"Why not?" Wanda replied, adjusting her jacket and throwing a sidelong glance at you. "Come watch, my sweet. This is going to be fun."

The group filed into the training area, and the energy in the room shifted instantly. The banter gave way to focused determination, though each of the Avengers wore playful smirks.

Wanda, for her part, was in her element. With a slight wave of her hand, she tucked her hair back, the red glow of her magic already pulsing at her fingertips.

"Bring it on, Maximoff," Tony began, adjusting his suit as the repulsors glowed in his palms. "Show us what you've got, but take it easy. This suit was expensive."

"If you're worried about the suit, maybe you should sit this one out," Wanda shot back, a mischievous smile curling her lips.

Clint positioned himself nearby, already with an arrow nocked. "Alright, but fair warning, if you destroy another one of my bows, I'm sending the bill directly to you."

"You need to hit something first," Wanda countered, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

Clint didn't wait to respond. He drew the bow and loosed an arrow straight at her. But with an elegant flick of her hand, the arrow froze mid-air, spun around, and flew back, hitting the target in the corner of the room.

"A bit predictable, don't you think?" Wanda commented, her voice full of feigned innocence.

Thor stepped forward with Mjolnir in hand, his heavy footsteps echoing across the floor. He spun the hammer in a wide arc, attempting to catch Wanda off guard. But before the blow could land, a scarlet barrier appeared, blocking the impact effortlessly.

"Ah, the hammer trick," Wanda said in a monotone, tilting her head. "Is that still the best you've got, Thor?" Thor let out a hearty laugh.

"We'll see if you're still laughing when you feel the weight of Mjolnir!" With that, he hurled the hammer at her, but Wanda extended her hand, stopping it mid-air. The red glow enveloped the sacred metal.

"Interesting," she murmured, studying the hammer for a moment before tossing it back to him. Meanwhile, Tony flanked her, raising a hand to fire an energy beam.

Wanda, sensing the move, performed a graceful backflip, landing lightly. "Really, Stark? You'll need to try something more creative."

"I'm just warming up," he replied, adjusting his aim for another shot. The others were clearly struggling to keep up. Clint tried a sneaky approach from the side, but Wanda noticed him before he even got close. A subtle gesture of her hand made him float briefly before she placed him back on the ground.

"Sweetheart, you're making this too easy," she teased, spinning gracefully to dodge another blast from Tony.

"Okay, that was good," Clint admitted as he got back on his feet. The group began to circle her, as if trying to formulate a strategy together. But Wanda was a step ahead, her movements calculated and precise, playing with each of them as if it were a choreographed dance.

"Are you all going to keep this up, or should I start taking this seriously?" Wanda asked, smiling at the group with that playful, challenging gleam in her eyes.

Bruce, already in Hulk form, watched the sparring with an amused grin, his green eyes glinting with mischief. While the others were still focused on Wanda, he seemed to have something else in mind.

His gaze fell on you, sitting outside the ring, relaxed and momentarily distracted. Suddenly, giant green hands lifted you into the air. The movement was so quick that you barely had time to react. Hulk held you as if you weighed nothing, his deep laughter echoing through the room.

"Bruce!" you protested, the shock mixed with a slight smile of disbelief, but he just shook his head, as if saying you were part of the game too. On the other side of the room, Wanda froze. The magic pulsating in her hands vanished instantly, replaced by an intense glow in her eyes.

She turned toward Bruce, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Bruce," she called, her voice low but filled with a warning no one dared to ignore. "Put her down. Now." Hulk laughed as if it were a joke. "Relax, Wanda. She's safe. I'm careful."

You tried to intervene, raising a hand. "Wanda, it's fine, he's just playing—" But she wasn't listening. Not really. Her entire focus was on Bruce and the fact that he was holding you so precariously, so vulnerably. Her mind seemed to race through all the possibilities, each more dangerous than the last.

"You're overstepping, Bruce," she said again, now walking toward him, each step deliberate. Bruce tilted his head, the grin still on his face.

"Then stop playing," he challenged, and, as if to make a point, took a large step away with you still in his hands. That was enough. Before he could take another step, the air around Wanda grew heavy.

Scarlet energy filled the room, vibrating with an intensity that made everyone else stop in their tracks. Hulk hesitated, but it was too late. Scarlet chains of energy wrapped around his arms, immobilizing him.

He tried to resist, but Wanda's magic was relentless, gently pulling you out of his grasp and placing you on the ground as if you were made of glass.

Wanda was by your side in an instant, her hands scanning you carefully, ensuring nothing was out of place. Her face was a mask of calm, but there was something almost feral in her eyes as she turned to Bruce.

"I warned you," she said, her voice so controlled it was more frightening than if she had yelled.

Hulk relaxed slightly, the chains around his arms fading as he met her gaze. "You're intense, Maximoff," he muttered, looking a bit uncomfortable now.

"And you're reckless," Wanda retorted, not taking her eyes off him. "If anything happened to her, or to Seline..." She let the sentence hang, but everyone understood her meaning.

The silence in the room was thick until you laughed softly, trying to break the tension. "Alright, everyone. I think we've had enough excitement for one day."

The other Avengers watched quietly, clearly impressed by the display of power. Clint broke the silence first, laughing nervously. "It's official. I'm never provoking you again, Maximoff."

Wanda only smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist. "If you ever feel like competing, you know where to find me."

You couldn't hold back your laughter, leaning in to whisper, "I love when you show who's boss."

She gently squeezed your waist, a satisfied smile dancing on her lips. “And I love teaching them a lesson.”

[...]

Wanda’s day began with a heavy energy in the air, almost suffocating. She woke up feeling restless, as if something invisible was pressing on her chest, but she ignored the sensation, attributing it to the usual work anxiety and her constant worry for you and the baby.

She arrived at the base early, hoping to get a head start on some reports, but it quickly became clear that the day would be anything but simple. The elevator, which never malfunctioned, got stuck midway for a few minutes. While waiting, Wanda noticed something unusual: a faint purple light flickered on the control panel buttons. She blinked, confused, but before she could inspect it further, the elevator resumed operation.

During the morning briefing, things got even stranger. The projector refused to turn on, even though it had been in perfect working order the day before. When Wanda tried to fix it with magic, the cables vibrated like snakes, and the lights flickered, casting purple hues around the room before everything went completely dark.

“Everything okay there, Wanda?” a voice asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, just... technical issues,” she replied, though her voice lacked conviction.

As she tried to carry on with her day, it felt like the universe was conspiring against her. On the training field, her energy attack spiraled out of control, exploding in a disproportionate wave that knocked over crates and startled everyone around her. The explosion’s reflection flashed purple before fading, sending a chill down Wanda’s spine.

“Maximoff, do you need a break?” another voice asked, but Wanda shook her head, determined to push through.

But the unease only grew worse. Objects disappeared and reappeared in absurd places—a coffee mug she was sure she’d left on the desk was now on the hallway floor, perfectly intact. Important documents went missing, only to be found hours later in another building on the base. Each detail seemed minor, but together they created chaos Wanda couldn’t ignore.

A melody echoed softly in her mind, something familiar she couldn’t quite place. Occasionally, she caught flashes of purple in her peripheral vision, but every time she turned to look, nothing was there.

When her phone buzzed with your message—"Wanda, I feel like something is wrong. Are you okay there? Come home soon."—she almost cried with relief. She didn’t want to be there anymore, stuck in a day that felt completely out of control.

“Enough,” she muttered to herself, dropping the papers on her desk and ignoring the curious looks as she left the room.

On her way home, the traffic seemed worse than usual, cars inching forward as if the universe itself was delaying her return. Wanda closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to stay calm. All she wanted was to reach you, hear your voice, and feel the baby move beneath her hands.

The day’s training was meant to be a distraction. You had decided to leave home and head to the Tower to clear your mind while Wanda finished her shift, despite the slight discomfort you had felt in the morning. A mild unease, perhaps just a normal pregnancy symptom. Or so you hoped.

Natasha watched your every move on the mat with her usual critical gaze, but something in her expression was different. You knew she was noticing what you were trying to ignore: your strikes were slow, your posture clumsy, and every move seemed to require more effort than usual.

“Hey, take a break,” Natasha said, raising a hand to stop the session. “What’s going on? You’re more distracted than usual.”

“I’m fine,” you replied, trying to mask the discomfort, but Natasha’s expression didn’t change. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

“You’re carrying a giant baby inside you, and I’m not going to be responsible for making things worse,” she said firmly, placing her hands on her hips.

Before you could argue, a more intense wave of pain shot through your belly, and you gasped, stopping abruptly. Natasha was at your side in a second, her hand on your arm to steady you.

“This doesn’t feel normal,” she said, now visibly worried.

You were about to respond, but before you could say anything, you felt something warm and wet trickle down your legs. The soft sound of dripping on the mat was enough to freeze the room.

“Oh my God,” you murmured, looking down. “My water broke.”

Natasha stood frozen for a moment, her eyes wide, but quickly recovered. “Okay, it’s fine. Breathe. Just don’t panic.”

As if her words were some kind of signal, the other Avengers on the floor quickly noticed the situation. Tony was the first to appear in the doorway, followed by Thor and Clint.

“What’s happening?” Tony asked, looking at Natasha and then at you. When he realized what had happened, he took two steps back, as if facing a ticking bomb.

“She’s about to give birth!” Natasha replied, exasperated.

“Wait, now? Here?” Clint asked, already visibly panicking.

Thor, on the other hand, seemed more fascinated than worried. “This is a great moment! We must get hot water, towels…”

“Thor, she’s not giving birth on the mat! It’s not sanitary,” Natasha cut him off, already pulling out her phone.

But as the confusion unfolded, a very subtle purple glow flickered across one of the ceiling lights, almost imperceptible but enough to make you shiver. The air seemed to carry a strange energy, something out of place.

You grabbed Natasha’s arm. “I need you to call Wanda now,” you said, urgency in your voice.

“I’m already on it,” Natasha replied, her tone calm, though her eyes betrayed growing concern.

As everyone debated the best course of action, you couldn’t help but look at the ceiling again, where that purple glow had briefly appeared.

The same unease you’d felt earlier returned, stronger this time. Something was happening, and you knew it wasn’t just the imminent arrival of the baby.

“Just get me out of here,” you pleaded, trying to stay calm as chaos reigned around you.

And deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the glow wasn’t a coincidence. Someone or something was playing a dangerous game, and now seemed to be the exact moment when everything was about to change.

The training room had been transformed into an improvised birthing scene, with Natasha taking the lead while the other Avengers tried, without much success, to help. Clint was holding a stack of clean towels, looking completely lost, while Tony, even in his armor, seemed on the verge of a breakdown.

Thor, on the other hand, delivered encouraging speeches that were of no help, and Bruce, now untransformed, murmured something about basic medical techniques.

Natasha, however, stayed calm. She monitored you closely, her steady hand on your wrist as she counted the seconds between contractions. “You’re doing great. Breathe with me, okay? That’s it, just a little more.”

You tried to focus on her instructions, but the pain was intense, and the fear of Wanda not being there yet made everything seem even harder. “Nat, she needs to be here… I can’t do this without her.” Thick tears streamed down your face.

“She’s coming,” Natasha replied, her voice low but firm. “I promise she’ll get here.”

“No. No. This isn’t how we planned it.” You cried out, pushing as another contraction hit hard on your left side. “This wasn’t supposed to happen for a few more weeks. Wanda was going to miss work because I can’t do this without her, Natasha. I could never do this without her!”

And then, as if your words were a prophecy, the entire room seemed to tremble. A pulsing red energy flooded the space, silencing everyone instantly. Wanda emerged from a portal in the center of the room, her eyes glowing a vivid red, her breath labored, and her expression pure panic.

“Where is she?” Wanda demanded, her voice thick with emotion and anger. Her eyes scanned the room until they found you, lying down, sweating but alive.

“Wanda…” you murmured, tears streaming down your face at the sight of her.

The energy around Wanda dissipated instantly, but her relief was short-lived. As soon as she took a step toward you, a sharp pain coursed through her body, and she doubled over, clutching her own abdomen as if she could feel your labor pains.

“Wanda!” Natasha exclaimed, rushing to steady her.

“I’m fine,” Wanda said, lifting her head with effort. Her eyes met yours, and the world seemed to stop for a moment. The two of you connected in a way you had never experienced before—a perfect fusion of love, fear, and strength.

“You can do this,” Wanda said, her voice a whisper but filled with conviction. She approached and fell to her knees beside you, holding your hand firmly.

In that moment, even with the pain you were both feeling, everything felt right. It was as if you were made to face this together, two souls intertwined, meeting the greatest challenge of your lives. Wanda pressed her forehead against yours, your tears mingling as Natasha took control of the situation again.

“She’ll be here in just a few minutes; your dilation looks great,” Natasha said, her voice softer now.

With Wanda by your side, you felt a wave of strength surge through you.

“You hear that, darling? You’re doing amazing.” She stroked your sweaty hair while gripping your hand tightly. “Now push, Dekta. Let’s show the world our little ‘magic moon.’”

The room was charged with a unique, almost tangible energy. Natasha remained calm as the moment approached, guiding you with steady patience. Wanda never let go of your hand, her fingers interlocked with yours as she whispered words of encouragement that seemed to draw strength directly from her soul.

“You’re almost there, darling,” Natasha announced, her tone firm but full of gentleness. “One more time. Just one more.”

Wanda leaned close to you, her eyes locked on yours, love radiating from every part of her. “I’m here, always. You can do this, my love.”

With one final burst of strength, you screamed, channeling all your pain into energy. Then, the sound broke through the silence—the sweet, full cry of a newborn baby.

The entire room held its breath for a moment, as if the world had paused to welcome this new life. Natasha, with careful hands, held the tiny body in her arms. She wrapped the baby in a clean blanket and, with an emotional smile, placed her in Wanda’s arms.

You looked at Wanda holding the little girl, and your heart swelled. Never in your life had you felt anything so pure, so genuine. When Wanda turned to you and gently placed Seline in your arms, it was as if the entire universe had aligned.

“Seline…” you murmured, savoring the name, each syllable carrying the promise of a future you had never dared to imagine. Tears fell freely as you looked at the tiny life that bore your features and Wanda’s spirit.

Wanda smiled, her eyes brimming with tears as she gently caressed the baby’s tiny face with trembling fingers. “She has your eyes,” you said, pointing at Wanda.

“And your cheeks,” she replied, laughing softly as more tears streamed down her face.

Around you, the Avengers were frozen, overwhelmed by a mixture of awe and emotion. Even Tony seemed to have lost his words. Thor discreetly wiped away a tear, and for the first time, Natasha looked vulnerable to the moment.

But for you and Wanda, nothing else existed. Holding Seline in your arms, feeling her small heart beating strong against yours, everything felt perfect. She was the missing piece to your magic, your love, your world.

“Seline,” Wanda repeated, her voice as soft as her touch. She leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to your forehead, then to Seline’s. “You’re everything to us.”

In that moment, there was no more pain, no more fear, no more doubt. Only love. A love so deep and infinite it seemed to expand and fill every corner of the universe. Seline was the center of it all, the miracle you and Wanda had created and would never forget.

A few minutes later, you were offered a room to rest with the baby until the next day. As soon as you lay on the soft bed, your eyes closed in exhaustion.

In the corner of the room, Wanda sat in an armchair with Seline nestled in her arms. The baby slept peacefully, her tiny fingers curled around one of Wanda’s.

As Wanda gazed at her daughter, a wave of emotions overcame her. She remembered the last universe she had invaded, a memory that still haunted her. She had felt envy seeing her counterpart in that world. That Wanda had everything—children who adored her, a home that seemed to embrace every part of who she was. It was a picture so perfect it felt unattainable, so far from what Wanda believed she deserved.

She lowered her eyes to Seline, feeling her heart tighten. “I was right to be envious,” she murmured softly, as if confessing a secret to the little one. Seline shifted slightly but stayed in her tranquil sleep. Wanda couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face, a gentle smile full of love.

“Who wouldn’t be envious?” she continued, her eyes shining with a mix of awe and wonder. “You… your mother… the boys… this life. These are the most precious things anyone could have.”

She traced the delicate contours of Seline’s face with her fingers as if wanting to memorize every detail. There was something almost sacred about that moment, a sense of completeness she had never felt before.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Wanda whispered, her voice breaking. “And now that I have it, I can barely believe it. I never knew something so small could hold so much love… so much hope.”

She glanced at you sleeping peacefully on the bed, your breathing soft and steady, and felt a wave of gratitude that seemed impossible to contain. You were her rock, her salvation, the other half of her soul. And now, with Seline in her arms, the cycle was complete.

Wanda pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead, closing her eyes for a moment. That moment was hers. It didn’t matter the struggles, the challenges, or the shadows that might arise. There, in the quiet of the room, with her daughter in her arms and you within her gaze, Wanda knew she had something no universe could take from her: a family.

Wanda opened the portal to Westview, her heart pounding. The thought of seeing Billy and Tommy again, now with the news of a sister, filled her chest with hope. The familiar red glow enveloped the air around her as she arrived in the town that had once been her refuge. But something was wrong.

The streets were too silent. The wind blew, scattering dry leaves, but there were no laughs or children’s voices. Wanda frowned, her chest tightening as she made her way to the school. No sign of them. Not even the teachers knew where the boys were.

Vision. He must know, Wanda thought as she teleported home. But the android was alone in the living room, a confused expression on his face. "They’re not here, Wanda. I haven’t seen them since this morning."

The world started to spin. Chaos grew in her mind as she searched every corner of the house with her magic, trying to sense any trace of their presence. Nothing.

"This doesn’t make sense," she murmured, her eyes stinging with tears. Vision placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We’ll find them, Wanda. Together."

But something inside Wanda shattered. It was like reliving the worst moments of her life, every time she lost something she loved. The magic around her began to pulse violently as she and Vision prepared to search beyond Westview's boundaries.

When Wanda returned to Avengers Tower, the silence that greeted her was almost deafening. The main corridor was deserted, the air heavy with something she didn’t yet understand.

Until she saw Thor.

He was sitting against the wall, his broad shoulders hunched, the hammer resting beside him, covered in dried blood. Cuts covered every inch of his skin, his armor shattered as if he’d faced an army alone. Wanda felt her stomach turn.

"Thor," she called, her voice trembling. He looked up slowly, shame clear in his eyes. "Where are they? Where are Y/n and Seline?"

Thor shook his head, struggling to find words.

"Wanda... I tried. We tried."

Wanda’s blood ran cold. She rushed to him, magic already flowing from her hands as desperation took over.

"What happened?"

"We couldn’t protect them," Thor admitted, his voice broken. "It was an attack... There were too many. Magic... strong, different."

Wanda staggered back, her eyes wide as the room began to spin. Her mind refused to accept his words. No, it couldn’t be.

"No!" she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls. "Not again!"

The ground beneath her trembled as her magic exploded in waves of red energy. The room seemed to warp, objects floating and cracking around her. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t care. The pain was unbearable.

"Wanda!" Thor tried to stand, but was pinned against the wall by an invisible force.

She looked at him with eyes glowing like embers.

"I’ll bring them back. I won’t lose everything again, Thor. I can’t!"

Wanda opened another portal, the red almost black in its intensity. She was going to find you and Seline, no matter the cost. Because if she couldn’t… she knew she wouldn’t survive this loss.

The room in the Tower seemed frozen in a moment of unbearable tension. Wanda stood in the center, her magic pulsing in waves that made the other Avengers struggle to stay on their feet. Thor was still slumped against the wall, his face heavy with shame and pain.

"Wanda, please," Natasha stepped forward, her hand raised in a gesture of caution. "You need to listen. We found something."

"Found something?!" Wanda spun to face her, her eyes burning a fiery red. "What could possibly explain why they’re not here? Why you—" She pointed at Thor, her voice sharp. "—let this happen?"

Natasha remained calm, extending her hand.

"I know you’re furious, but look at this." She revealed a small object wrapped in a piece of cloth. "It was left behind. I think whoever did this wanted you to find it."

Wanda moved in an instant, snatching the object from Natasha’s hands. When she unwrapped the cloth, it revealed an ancient necklace, its medal depicting a woman pierced by three crossed daggers. The symbol was intricate, the aura of dark magic pulsing from the amulet like a silent warning.

The air around Wanda grew even heavier. Her fingers clenched the necklace tightly, her eyes widening as she processed the revelation.

"Her..." Wanda whispered, her voice filled with hatred. "It’s her. Agatha."

Thor tried to stand, his deep voice breaking the silence.

"Wanda, we tried. Her magic is… different. Darker than anything we’ve faced."

"It’s not dark," Wanda retorted, her eyes now glowing intensely. "It’s rotten."

Her anger grew, and with it, her control over her power.

"She thinks she can play games with me. She thinks she can take my family from me." Wanda’s laugh was bitter, laced with arrogance. "Agatha hasn’t learned anything from last time."

Natasha stepped forward, trying to keep focus.

"Wanda, the necklace might be the key. There could be something in it that leads us to her. But you need to stay calm."

"Calm?" Wanda stepped closer to Natasha, her face just inches from hers, the energy around her flickering like embers. "You talk about calm when my wife and daughter have been taken? When my sons are missing?!"

Natasha didn’t flinch, her eyes steady on Wanda’s.

"Yes, I’m asking for calm because you’re the only one who can face her. But to do that, you need to stay focused. You need to be smarter than her."

Natasha’s words seemed to break through something inside Wanda. Her breathing slowed, and the energy pulsating around her began to stabilize. She held the necklace with both hands, closing her eyes.

Suddenly, she opened them again, now fully immersed as the Scarlet Witch. The red magical crown shimmered above her head, and the power around her seemed to fill every corner of the room.

"She doesn’t know who she’s dealing with," Wanda declared, her voice low but filled with unshakable determination. "I will bring them back. All of them. And Agatha will wish she’d never crossed my path."

Thor, still wounded, raised his eyes to her.

"Wanda, what will you do?"

Her gaze was cold, a mix of authority and fury.

"What I should have done from the start. Show Agatha she messed with the wrong person."

She turned the necklace in her hands, the magic pulsing from it.

"I’ll track her. I’ll tear her secrets from her with my own hands if I have to. And no one will stop me."

The Avengers watched her in silence. For the first time, even Natasha seemed intimidated. Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, was no longer just a hero trying to protect her family. She was a mother, a wife, and a woman determined to take back everything that had been stolen from her.

"Prepare yourselves," Wanda said, her voice cold and commanding. "This ends now."

With a wave of her hands, the necklace glowed brightly, pointing the way to Agatha Harkness’s lair.

~*~

Put the knife down, the happy end is coming...

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[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Hey, lovely readers! Let's see if you are good at getting references heheheh

Enjoy it <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Pairing: Dark!Witch Wanda x Reader

Summary: The life that grows inside you makes you stronger

Hey. Now I've a masterlist

HARMONY

The night was heavy and hot, but the silence in the house was a blessing. The bedroom curtains swayed gently with the night breeze as you slept soundly beside Wanda. Your body, however, seemed to have other plans.

A wave of growing nausea pulled you from sleep, and you sat up abruptly in bed. The discomfort in your stomach was impossible to ignore. Wanda, always attuned to any change in you, opened her eyes almost immediately.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice husky with sleep but full of concern.

You shook your head, already trying to get up. "I need to go to the bathroom..."

Wanda didn’t hesitate. "I’m coming with you."

Leaning on her, you made your way to the bathroom. Your belly was already heavy, big enough to be impossible to ignore. It was a constant reminder that a life was growing inside you—Seline, the child who would change everything.

Upon arrival, you barely had time to kneel before the toilet as the nausea took over. Wanda was immediately at your side, holding your hair back with one firm hand and rubbing your back with the other.

“Breathe, my love. I’m here,” she whispered, her voice gentle and full of patience.

You felt the discomfort draining your strength, but Wanda’s touch was like a safe harbor amidst the storm.

Before you could say anything, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. The twins appeared at the door, still in their pajamas. Tommy’s hair was messy, and he held a glass of water, while Billy had a pill in the palm of his hand.

“We brought this,” Billy said, offering the pill to Wanda.

Tommy stepped closer, the glass trembling slightly in his hands. “You look terrible,” he commented, but the worry in his eyes betrayed his casual tone.

You lifted your head, your eyes watery. “Thanks, Tommy. I love you too.”

He rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I was just being honest.”

“Are you okay?” Billy asked, kneeling beside you.

“I’ll be fine,” you replied with a weak smile.

Wanda helped you to your feet, holding your waist as you took the pill and sipped the water. Even in the dim light, you could feel the twins’ gazes fixed on you—worried, attentive.

“You’re the best,” you said softly, looking at them.

“I know,” Tommy replied with a smug grin, only for Billy to nudge him.

“Don’t inflate his ego,” Billy teased, but there was a warm sparkle in his eyes.

Back in the bedroom, Wanda helped you lie down carefully. Your belly was an elegant curve under your robe, a constant reminder of the life you were building together. You instinctively caressed the top of it, feeling a slight movement that brought a smile to your lips.

The twins were now sitting at the foot of the bed, whispering about what they could do to help the next day. Wanda lay down beside you, pulling you closer.

“This is all I’ve ever wanted,” you murmured, your eyes beginning to close as exhaustion finally won.

“What? The midnight nausea and dizziness?” she asked, laughing at your expression.

“Of course not! This family... You! You’re everything to me.” You snuggled deeper into the redhead’s warm embrace.

“Yeah,” Wanda replied, kissing your forehead tenderly. “And it’s all we’ll ever need.”

In the comfortable silence that followed, you realized something profound: for the first time in your life, you weren’t alone. You had Wanda, the twins, and Seline. It was a rare treasure, and you knew you would do anything to protect it.

As you drifted to sleep, the last thing you saw was Wanda looking at you with a love so deep it seemed to glow in the darkness.

[...]

Life with the Avengers was organized chaos. Between missions, meetings, and continuous training, there were precious moments that stood out. Your bond with them grew each day, creating a web of trust and friendship. But above all, it was the little moments within your new family that truly defined who you were now.

The day began with a controlled tension in the air. Strange had organized a training session to help you access your powers, and the Avengers were both curious and cautious. You stood at the center of the training room in the Tower, with Strange on one side and Clint on the other, while the others watched from afar.

Wanda sat in an elevated corner, arms crossed, her eyes fixed on you. She didn’t like the idea of this training, especially now that Seline was growing inside you. But she knew it was necessary, even if it unsettled her.

“All right,” Strange began, his tone instructional. “We need to access the magic within you. Focus. Feel the energy around you.”

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and trying to do as he said. There was a faint sensation—like an electric current under your skin—but it was fleeting, slippery.

“Nothing,” you murmured, opening your eyes and looking at Strange.

“Don’t give up. Sometimes pressure helps,” he replied.

Clint, on the other side of the room, gave a half-challenging smile. “Maybe she needs something more intense to wake those powers up.”

“Clint,” Wanda warned, her voice sharp as a blade.

“Relax, Maximoff,” he replied, raising his bow and nocking an arrow. “It’s just a simulation.”

But the moment he aimed the arrow at your belly was the breaking point.

Your heart raced, and the world seemed to slow down. The energy inside you, previously silent, erupted with uncontrollable force. A wave of white light burst from your body, pushing Clint back with such violence that it threw him out of the tower, shattering the reinforced glass window.

Your eyes glowed a brilliant white, and your breathing was heavy, uneven. The magic around you swirled like a storm, an extension of your anger and fear.

“Stop!” Strange shouted, raising his hands, but his voice felt distant, muffled. He tried to conjure a spell to contain you, but the energy around you was like an impenetrable wall.

Clint clung to the edge of the tower, gripping a piece of twisted metal. He didn’t seem gravely injured, but his face showed pure panic.

“You need to stop her!” Strange shouted at Wanda, who was watching everything with a calm but serious expression.

“He deserved it,” she replied coldly, not moving a muscle. “She’s protecting our daughter. There’s nothing I can do to stop that.”

“Wanda!” Strange insisted. “If she keeps going, she’ll hurt more than Clint!”

Finally, Wanda stood and walked toward you with an unnerving calm. “Dekta” she called, her voice low but filled with authority.

You turned to her, your eyes still glowing, but there was hesitation. Wanda extended her hand, gently touching your face.

“It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt Seline. No one will.”

The intensity of the light around you began to fade, the waves of energy slowly dissipating. Your eyes returned to normal, and your body gave in to exhaustion, collapsing into Wanda’s arms.

Clint was pulled back inside the tower by Natasha and Tony, breathless but unharmed. He cast a nervous glance at you, still recovering. “That was... wow.”

Strange was more thoughtful than ever. “It’s... wow,” he muttered to himself.

[...]

The kitchen was bathed in soft light, the sound of a simmering pot filling the space as you carefully stirred its contents. The aroma of spices and fresh vegetables wafted through the air, creating a perfect contrast to the comforting silence that only a home filled with love could offer.

You were barefoot, wearing one of Wanda’s oversized shirts that no longer hid the growing curve of your belly. Your hands instinctively caressed it as they worked, as if trying to reassure Seline after the day’s chaos.

"That was sexy, you know, Mrs. Guardian?" she murmured, her voice filled with both teasing and tenderness.

You laughed, a light and happy sound that brightened the room. "Sexy? I don’t think Clint would agree."

Wanda tilted her head, as if considering your response. "He deserved it," she replied naturally, making you shake your head in disbelief.

"You’re terrible, Wanda Maximoff," you said, trying to sound reproachful but failing miserably as you smiled.

"And you’re delightful," she shot back, pulling you a little closer before letting out a sigh. "But seriously… you were incredible today. I didn’t know you had that much power in you."

You stopped stirring the pot, turning to face her. The look in her eyes was a mix of pride and concern, something that made your heart race.

"I just… didn’t want anyone to hurt Seline," you said softly, looking down at your belly.

Wanda lifted her hand, placing it over yours. "And no one will. Not today, not ever. We’ll protect her together."

The moment was interrupted by a light knock on the kitchen door. You and Wanda turned to see Billy and Tommy entering, carrying grocery bags.

"We brought dessert!" Tommy announced proudly, while Billy set the bags on the counter.

"You two are the best helpers," you said, smiling at them.

"Of course, we are," Billy replied, though his focus was more on you.

"Are you okay, Mama? Today was… intense."

You approached him and ruffled his hair. "I’m fine, sweetheart. I just need some food and rest."

"She’s a Maximoff, Billy," Wanda added, crossing her arms and smiling at them. "Nothing can take her down."

Billy seemed a bit more reassured, but Tommy still looked thoughtful. He stepped closer to you, glancing at your belly. "Will Seline be as powerful as you?"

You exchanged a glance with Wanda before answering. "Maybe, but she’ll be just a baby for a long time. And we’ll teach her she can be powerful and kind at the same time."

Tommy nodded, thoughtful, before moving away and rummaging through the bags. "Good, because I don’t want her throwing me out the window."

Laughter filled the kitchen, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. This was what you always wanted: a family, a home full of life, and people who would do anything to protect each other.

As everyone joined in to finish dinner, Wanda discreetly took your hand and squeezed it. "I love you," she whispered.

You smiled, feeling complete for the first time. "And I love you even more."

During dinner, the clatter of utensils and occasional laughter filled the room, but you noticed something different. The twins were restless, exchanging furtive glances and whispering quietly. Wanda noticed too, her expression softening into a mix of curiosity and exasperation.

You cleared your throat, setting your fork aside. "So…" you began, catching their attention. "What’s going on?"

Billy and Tommy exchanged a tense look. "Nothing," they replied in unison, with the kind of synchronization only they could achieve.

Wanda raised an eyebrow and huffed, crossing her arms. "Do you really think we’ll believe that? I gave birth to you two. It’s impossible to lie to me," she said, her voice carrying affectionate authority.

The two gulped, Tommy looking away while Billy seemed to struggle with his words. Finally, Billy let out a long, nervous breath before speaking.

"Tommy’s powers manifested!" he blurted out, as if ripping off a bandage would hurt less.

"Billy!" Tommy protested, his face turning red with embarrassment.

"Tommy!" you and Wanda said simultaneously, a mix of surprise and joy in your voices.

You leaned slightly over the table, a genuine smile forming on your lips. "That’s wonderful, sweetheart. Why were you hiding it?"

"Because it’s weird," Tommy replied, staring at his plate. "I… I don’t know what to do with them yet."

"Weird?" Wanda repeated, her expression softening. "Tommy, you’re amazing. We knew this would happen eventually. It’s part of who you are."

Billy interjected, his voice slightly more animated now. "But you had to see it, Mom! He ran so fast it was like… like a blur!"

Tommy threw a napkin at his brother. "I’m still learning to control it, okay? It’s not something to show off."

You chuckled softly, picking up the fallen napkin and placing it back on the table. "Tommy, we’re all learning. Even me," you said, protectively placing a hand on your belly. "You don’t need to worry about being perfect. We’re here to help."

"And to protect you," Wanda added, reaching out to hold his hand. "Because you’ll never be alone in this, understand?"

Tommy looked at both of you, his expression gradually relaxing. He finally nodded, a small smile forming. "Got it."

Billy wasted no time jumping into the conversation. "Well, since we’re being honest… I think my powers are changing too."

You and Wanda exchanged a surprised look, and you asked, "Changing how, Billy?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering. "I can feel more. Sense more. It’s like the emotions of people around me are stronger now."

"Magical empathy," Wanda explained, smiling proudly. "You’re growing, Billy. And it’s beautiful. You’re becoming more connected to the world around you."

As the twins absorbed your support, dinner continued in a much lighter atmosphere.

After the meal, while everyone relaxed in the living room, you felt exhausted and leaned your head on Wanda’s shoulder. "This is the family I always dreamed of," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion.

Wanda wrapped an arm around you, kissing your forehead. "And this is just the beginning, my love. Our family is growing."

Across the room, Billy and Tommy were laughing together, their earlier worries forgotten. Seline gave a gentle kick in your belly, as if joining in the night’s joy.

"Oh my God. Wanda… Seline," you exclaimed, grabbing her attention. You took her hand and placed it on your belly. Seline, seeming to recognize Wanda’s touch, kicked again, harder this time.

You smiled as you felt Seline’s kick, bringing your hand to your belly with affection. The moment was brief but unmistakable. Your eyes filled with emotion as Wanda, sitting beside you, tilted her head to watch.

"She kicked," you said, a near-incredulous whisper.

Wanda’s eyebrows shot up, a wide, radiant smile lighting up her face. "She kicked!"

The boys, who were distracted by a card game in the living room, froze. Billy was the first to speak, letting his cards fall to the floor. “She kicked? For real?”

“Yes!” Wanda responded enthusiastically, grabbing your hand to place it over her belly. “Here, boys, come feel it.”

Tommy and Billy rushed to the couch, their faces full of anticipation. Tommy placed his hand first, cautiously, as if the slightest movement might scare Seline. Billy quickly followed, both completely absorbed.

When Seline kicked again, the twins' eyes widened. “I felt it!” Tommy exclaimed, almost jumping with joy.

“Me too!” Billy said, laughing, his eyes shining with excitement.

“She’s strong,” Tommy remarked, looking at you with a mischievous smile. “Do you think Seline will have super strength? Like… breaking walls or something?”

“Or run as fast as I can?” Tommy continued, clearly thrilled by the idea.

“Or have magical empathy like me?” Billy suggested, his voice full of hope.

Wanda laughed, throwing her head back. “I think you two are getting ahead of yourselves. She’ll have her time, just like you did.”

You, with a tender smile, placed your hand over Wanda’s, squeezing it gently. “It doesn’t matter what she’s capable of. What matters is that she’ll have you two as her brothers to guide her. That’s already a superpower.”

The twins nodded firmly, taking in the idea of being older brothers to someone so special.

“She’s going to be amazing, obviously. She’s my sister,” Tommy said, his tone filled with confidence.

“And I’m going to pick all her battle outfits,” Billy declared, his expression determined.

Tommy immediately stood up, placing his hands on his hips as if he were about to announce something extremely important. “And I’m going to teach her everything she needs to know. I’ll be the best big brother ever.”

“Hey!” Billy protested, narrowing his eyes. “I’m a big brother too, remember? We’re doing this together.”

“Deal,” Tommy replied, extending a fist bump that Billy accepted without hesitation.

Wanda watched the two, her eyes glowing with tenderness and pride. She turned to you, her hand sliding into yours, squeezing it lovingly.“I think we’re building an incredible team here.”

You looked at her, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude. “We are.”

In the midst of the laughter and lively conversation, Seline gave another kick, as if to remind everyone she was there, joining in. And for a brief moment, everything felt perfect. Chaos had truly shaped something beautiful: a family.

[...]

The day had been long, but you felt fulfilled. Teaching always brought you joy, and even with your rounded belly, you continued to dedicate yourself to your students. Your colleagues were kind, always offering to help, but there was something that made you uncomfortable. Maria Hill.

The principal rarely interacted with you directly, but she was always nearby, as if watching you from a distance. It wasn’t uncommon to catch her staring at you for long moments before looking away.

That late afternoon, after putting away the materials, you walked to the parking lot with your mind focused on the twins. They had a presentation, and you wouldn’t miss it for anything. You got into the car, placed your hand on the door to close it, but something stopped you. A firm hand held the door open.

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Maria Hill standing there. Her face was tense, her eyes filled with something you couldn’t decipher.

“Principal Hill?” you asked, trying to sound calm.

Maria didn’t respond. Instead, she opened the door with a firm motion and grabbed your forearm, pulling you out of the car.

“What are you doing?” you asked, surprised and confused, your hands trembling slightly.

Maria took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Her tone was low but charged with emotion, and it made you even more nervous. “What are you talking about?”

“For years, I did everything right. Built an exemplary career, got married, had kids... And then you show up...” Maria paused, as if the words were stuck in her throat. “You show up with this... this perfect life, and everything I tried to erase from myself comes back in full force!”

You blinked, still not fully understanding. “Maria, I... I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t understand, do you?” Maria laughed bitterly, her eyes glistening. “You have all of this. And now... Now it consumes me!”

The necklace around your neck began to heat up, but you were so focused on her words that you didn’t even notice. “Maria, what are you talking about?”

“You have no idea what it’s like to spend an entire life denying who you are, while watching someone like you... someone who shouldn’t even...” Maria trailed off, but the bitterness in her tone was evident.

Your body began to heat up from the inside out, as if a furnace had been lit in your chest. The necklace resting against your chest started to glow, pulsing with a golden hue that seemed to grow with your quickened breaths. The light became almost unbearably intense, enveloping your body in a warmth that made the air around you shimmer.

“Maria, I’m warning you…” your voice came out hoarse but firm as your fingers instinctively grasped the necklace, seeking control.

Maria didn’t listen. She took another step toward you, a bitter smile on her lips. “Or what?”

And then, as if a dam had broken, the energy exploded. A wave of golden force erupted from your body, expanding in all directions. The sound was deafening, like thunder in the midst of a storm. Maria was flung backward like a rag doll, flying through the air before crashing against the side of a parked car.

The impact was so violent that the vehicle shook, triggering its alarm, followed by the incessant blaring of horns and sirens from the surrounding cars. Sparks of golden energy danced in the air, ricocheting off the asphalt and metal surfaces like tiny bolts of lightning.

You stood frozen, panting, as the heat gradually subsided. The glow of the necklace began to fade, but your hands still trembled, your fingers too hot to touch the metal.

Maria stirred, groaning softly as she tried to get up. Her thin body was dusty and scratched from the impact, but her gaze was as hard as ever. She looked scared, yes, but also furious, as if the explosion had only ignited the resentment within her further.

You felt a hand stroke your hair. The touch was warm and comforting, familiar. “Shhh… dekta. It’s okay, look at me.”

You were breathing heavily, your body still trembling from the explosion of energy that had flung Maria Hill away. The sound of car alarms echoed through the empty parking lot, but all you could hear was Wanda’s gentle voice.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting your heart slow down before facing her. “The boys will understand if we’re late, darling. Let’s deal with this first,” Wanda said, her gentle tone hiding the ferocity you knew she carried.

She took a step toward Maria, who was getting to her feet, visibly dazed. Hill’s gaze was a mixture of anger and humiliation as she dusted off her jacket, but her expression changed when she saw Wanda approaching.

“Wanda,” you called, your voice still hoarse. “What are you going to… do to her?”

Wanda looked over her shoulder, a dangerous smile playing on her lips. “I promise not to kill her. For now.”

Maria narrowed her eyes at the comment. “How adorable. The brave wife defends the other…”

Wanda stepped in front of her, crossing her arms. “Maria Hill. Finally, we meet, don’t we? Though, I’m afraid to say, not under your best… circumstances.” Wanda’s tone carried a raw and unmistakable disdain.

Maria let out a bitter laugh, though her stance was defensive. “Wanda. I’ve heard about you. A successful woman, married with children… And you gave it all up for what? I did everything I was supposed to. I built something you could never understand. And now I see it being dismantled by someone like her—”

Wanda interrupted Maria with her foot, stepping onto the woman’s chest, establishing dominance. “Careful with your words,” Wanda cut her off, her voice low but brimming with power.

Maria ignored the implicit threat. “She shouldn’t even be here. She’s… a mistake.”

The red glow in Wanda’s eyes began to surface. “A mistake? No, Maria. The only mistake here is you thinking you have the right to decide what she does or doesn’t deserve. What did you want, huh?” Wanda pressed her heel harder against the woman’s torso, causing her breathing to grow labored. “Did you want to get into her mind? Keep her for yourself?”

Maria clenched her fists but said nothing.

Wanda straightened slightly, easing the pressure just enough for Maria to catch her breath. “You know, Maria,” she said, her tone almost casual, “You’ve spent your life denying who you are, trying to fit into molds that were never made for you. Now you look at us, and all you see is the reflection of the life you could’ve had. That’s not her fault. Or mine. That’s your burden,” Wanda continued, each word cutting like a blade.

Maria looked down, but the wounded pride still flickered in her eyes. “Do you think you can intimidate me with these speeches, Maximoff? I am Maria Hill. I’m not intimidated by anyone.”

Wanda tilted her head slightly, a cold smile forming on her lips. “I’m not trying to intimidate you, Maria. I’m ensuring you don’t interfere with what’s meant for me.”

Before Maria could react, Wanda raised her hand. The red glow of her magic enveloped Maria, freezing her in place, unable to move.

The crimson energy flowed from Wanda’s hands as she moved her fingers in a precise pattern. Maria tried to resist, but her strength was futile. Her eyes widened momentarily before closing, and her hardened expression softened into something vacant and emotionless.

Wanda stepped back, looking down at the now harmless woman on the ground. She then turned to you, her eyes still softly glowing, but her expression had softened.

“Wanda…” you called out hesitantly, but she didn’t break her gaze.

“Shhh, you don’t need to thank me, my love. I’ll always protect you… and our family.”

Wanda murmured something in Sokovian, ancient words laced with power. Maria blinked a few times, confused, before looking around as if she didn’t know where she was.

“What did you do?” you asked quietly.

“I erased all her memories involving you. Now she’ll move on, as if she never met you.”

Maria glanced at the two of you, her face void of any emotion. She adjusted her posture, muttered something about needing to get back to school, and walked out of the parking lot as if nothing had happened.

Wanda turned to you, her face softening when she saw your expression. “She won’t bother you anymore. Now, come on. Hamlet awaits.”

You blinked, still processing everything that had just happened, and nodded slowly. You let her take your hand and guide you back to the car. Wanda opened the door for you, ensuring you were comfortable before walking around to take the driver’s seat.

As she drove, her free hand held yours tightly, as if needing the contact to ensure you were really there, safe. You gazed out the window, watching the city lights blur past, trying to calm your mind.

The silence was comforting, but Wanda finally broke it with a soft, concerned tone. “Are you okay?”

You turned away from the window, meeting her eyes for a brief moment before blurting out, almost without thinking, “I’m craving a Snickers.”

Wanda blinked, clearly not expecting that response. Her lips curved into a slow smile, and soon she began to laugh. “Oh, my poor pregnant wife,” she said, her voice filled with affection as she gently squeezed your hand.

“I’m serious,” you insisted, trying to sound indignant, but a small smile betrayed your attempt. “I really need a Snickers right now.”

Wanda shook her head, still laughing, and turned the car toward a nearby market. “Alright, dekta. Hamlet can wait a little longer. A happy, well-fed wife is top priority.”

You laughed, feeling warmth in your chest replacing all the tension from before. Wanda parked and leaned over to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Stay here. I’ll be back with your Snickers and maybe… a few other treats.”

You watched as she disappeared into the store, feeling the love she poured into every small gesture. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that someone as powerful and majestic as Wanda could also be so tender and devoted.

When she returned, holding not just a Snickers but also a bag of candies and a bottle of sparkling water, you couldn’t help but laugh. “All this just because I said I had a craving?”

“Dekta,” she began, a smirk playing on her lips as she handed you the treats, “you deserve the world. A Snickers is the least I can do.”

You unwrapped the chocolate, taking a bite and sighing in contentment. “Okay, now we can go. I’m ready to see our boys shine on stage.”

Wanda laughed, starting the car again. “And I’m ready to make sure you have more cravings satisfied before the night is over.”

The rest of the drive was peaceful, and when you arrived at the school, the warmth of being together washed away any remnants of the earlier scene. Hamlet could wait, but the joy of sharing moments like this made every second of the journey together worthwhile.

The room was filled with parents, siblings, and eager friends as the curtain rose, revealing the students in their period costumes. Tommy was impeccable as Hamlet, his dark cape and serious expression contrasting with the goofy smile of pride he wore for landing the role. Billy, playing Horatio, seemed more nervous, but whenever he looked at his brother, he found confidence.

You and Wanda sat in the audience, your growing belly noticeable under the comfortable dress you wore. Wanda held your hand, occasionally brushing her thumb over your knuckles as she watched the stage with almost disproportionate pride.

"He’s feeling himself," you murmured, laughing as you watched Tommy exaggerate his dramatic gestures.

“He’s doing great,” Wanda replied, squeezing your hand. “Maybe a bit too theatrical, but it’s Hamlet, after all.”

The play continued, with occasional laughter from the audience whenever minor mistakes happened—like one of Tommy’s classmates dropping their crown during a serious speech. Billy, trying to help, stumbled and knocked over a plastic goblet that was part of the scene. Wanda laughed out loud, drawing glances from other parents.

“I told you he was nervous,” you whispered to her, holding back your own laughter.

As the play reached its climax, with Tommy dramatically "dying" in Billy’s arms—both clearly struggling to suppress their laughter—you and Wanda stood up to applaud along with the rest of the audience.

In the hallway outside the auditorium, you and Wanda were surrounded by other families, but your focus remained on the boys, who were heading your way, still in their costumes and glowing with excitement. Tommy was the first to speak.

“What’s all this, Mama?” He gestured to the stash of treats you held under your arm, packed with Snickers bars, chocolates, and other snacks.

“Seline wanted Snickers, and your mom can’t say no,” you replied, raising an eyebrow as you patted your belly with a mischievous smile.

Wanda let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over her heart. “I really couldn’t. Denying these girls breaks my heart,” she said, pouting theatrically, drawing laughs from the boys.

Tommy rolled his eyes with a classic teenage expression of being overly loved. “You two are impossible.”

“And you two are amazing,” Billy chimed in, hugging both of you before glancing at the stash. “But I want a Snickers too.”

Before you could respond, a familiar figure appeared. Vision, immaculate as always, approached the group with a faint smile.

“Ah, the star of the evening,” he said, nodding to Tommy. “And his loyal companion,” he added, acknowledging Billy.

“Vision,” Wanda greeted him with an almost friendly smile, though her sharp eyes missed nothing.

“You must be very proud,” Vision continued, glancing between you and Wanda. “It was a brilliant performance.”

“Yes, we are,” you replied, holding his gaze for a moment before turning back to the boys.

“You know what else is brilliant?” Tommy interjected, grabbing a Snickers from the stash. “Me being hungry. Can we go home?”

The group burst into laughter, and with one last lingering look from Vision, who seemed like he wanted to say more, you all began heading toward the car.

The car engine purred softly as you drove through the quiet night streets. The boys’ laughter echoed in your mind, mingling with the warm sense of contentment that filled every corner of the vehicle. Wanda, sitting beside you, rested her head against the window, her eyes fixed on the star-speckled sky, radiating a calm that made everything feel whole.

The night had been simple yet deeply meaningful—a reminder of all you had built together against all odds. Vision’s proud look, the boys’ smiles, Wanda’s subtle touch on your hand as you left the theater—all were silent affirmations of the unshakable love holding this family together.

The cool night air felt fresh, and the city seemed gentler, as if the world itself had decided to grant you a moment’s peace. A quiet certainty filled you, a nearly tangible strength that whispered that no matter what uncertainties lay ahead, nothing could take this moment away. Here, now, with Wanda beside you and the boys laughing in the backseat, fate seemed to smile.

As the car smoothly navigated the curves of the road, you took a deep breath, etching every sensation and detail into your memory. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could shake the happiness that transcended time. With the faint glow of streetlights reflecting on the faces around you, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[...]

In a stifling room lit only by the flickering glow of runes etched into the floor, two figures stood before an ethereal projection emanating from a floating necklace at the center of the space.

The taller of the two watched intently, absorbing every detail of the images dancing in the air—the outline of a child with luminous eyes, their energy pulsing like a living heartbeat, connected to invisible threads of ancient magic. The other figure, standing closer to the necklace, hesitated, their fingers hovering over the warm glow but never touching it.

“So, it’s really possible?” the shorter figure whispered, their voice laden with incredulity and reverence.

“More than possible,” the taller one replied, a smile playing on their lips—a mix of satisfaction and ambition. “It’s inevitable. She isn’t just power. She’s the very connection we lost.”

The necklace pulsed softly, emitting a subtle sound akin to a heartbeat, as new images appeared: fragments of an unwritten history, shards of an altered timeline, and finally, the image of two children. One was clear—the small figure they had seen before. The other remained shrouded in shadow, indistinct but undeniably present.

“We can undo everything,” the taller figure continued, almost to themselves. “Correct the mistakes. Reclaim what was taken from us.”

“And if we fail?” The question came out barely audible.

The taller figure turned slowly, their eyes burning with a determination fiercer than any flame. “We won’t fail. Because now we have something no one ever had before: the perfect vessel. The key to bending time and shaping destiny to our will.”

The necklace emitted one final intense pulse, as if validating the words. The shorter figure stepped back, their gaze still fixed on the projection.“There are still risks…” they murmured, but the other silenced them with a look.

“Risks are meant to be conquered,” they replied firmly. “And we will reclaim everything. Including him.”

The images dissolved into the air, and the room plunged into darkness, leaving only the faint glow of the runes, as if waiting to be awakened once more.

~*~

Who will it be?

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

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[claramelooo]

I feel 'saudades' of them so much 😪

This is Agatha.

She loves her personal space.

And Rio?

Rio also loves Agatha's personal space.

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Hey, babies! I must confess that this was a story that I wrote with my instincts, I simply let the characters flow. I love filling it with intensity and adding love, I want this to be, in fact, the hallmark of my writing.

And of course, we are entering the final stretch of this saga :)

so enjoy it a looooot <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST TO INTERACT

Warnings: angst and truth revealed

Summary: Wanda discovers the truth about the necklace, and cannot accept it.

Hey. Now I've a masterlist

SOLIS

The crossing between the multiverses was a storm of colors and impossible shapes, a parade of fragments of realities tearing and stitching themselves as you moved forward. It was a hypnotic and chaotic spectacle, where the unknown seemed to breathe around you, whispering secrets no one could comprehend.

You were in Wanda’s arms, the only constant amid the chaos. The warmth of her body against yours was more than physical; it was a silent promise of safety, a beacon in an unpredictable ocean. Your eyes were closed, but even in unconsciousness, there was something about you that radiated a unique strength.

Carol walked beside you, silent at first, but her unease was evident. Her eyes constantly darted to you, as if trying to decipher a riddle that refused to reveal itself. Time passed, and finally, she broke the silence.

“So…” Carol began, feigning casualness as her gaze remained fixed on you. “She’s really real?”

Wanda didn’t reply immediately. Her full attention was on you, her gaze intense and protective, as though her mere presence could ward off any threat.

Carol cleared her throat, insisting. “You know, it’s not exactly common to see someone cross dimensions carrying another person like they’re a lost treasure. I’m curious.”

There was a moment of tense silence before Wanda finally responded, her voice low, almost a whisper, but laden with something primal. “She’s more than real. She’s everything.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, but she didn’t interrupt. Wanda continued, her eyes shining with something that bordered on fervor. “I found her when there was nothing left, when the entire world was against me, and yet... she stayed. She saw me. She gave me something even magic couldn’t bring back.”

Carol let out a small sigh, a mix of understanding and discomfort. “And that’s why you’re willing to do all this? For her?”

Wanda looked at Carol with an intensity that made the Captain shrink back for a brief second. “I’m not willing. I will. Because she’s my light, and no matter what happens… I won’t let her go out.”

The silence that followed was filled only by the hum of realities unraveling around them. Carol looked away, Wanda’s words echoing as an unshakable truth, impossible to challenge. After all, who was she to judge someone who had found such a strong reason to fight?

When the last tear in the multiverse opened, you arrived in a vast, desolate field, where the silence was broken only by the sound of boots from an army standing ready. Strange was at the center of it all, his eyes sharp, and his cloak floating with a purpose of its own. Around him, the Avengers stood prepared to fight, weapons and powers ready to face whatever emerged from the portal.

But when Wanda stepped through, carrying you in her arms, the chaos ceased.

Strange raised a hand, signaling his army to stop. His gaze moved from Wanda to you, then to Carol, before returning to Wanda. There was something in his eyes—not just surprise, but recognition.

“She’s real…” Strange murmured, the incredulity in his voice hanging in the still air.

The field seemed to hold its breath, every hero frozen in a moment of shock as they watched Wanda emerge from the portal, you in her arms like something sacred. The tension was palpable, but Strange remained calm, though his eyes betrayed the depth of his understanding.

The Avengers around him, weapons still raised, began to relax, but only slightly. Natasha stepped forward, her eyes narrowed, analyzing every detail. Steve remained still, his shield instinctively raised. Tony, however, broke the silence with a typical comment.

“Well, look at that, the witch brought a… friend?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but his eyes were fixed on you, clearly trying to piece together what was happening.

“Tony,” Steve warned, though even he seemed unable to tear his gaze from you.

“She’s not a threat,” Wanda declared, her voice firm but quiet, like a promise. Her gaze burned with something fierce and unyielding.

Strange took a step forward, his hands clasped in front of him. He seemed to avoid direct eye contact with Wanda, focusing instead on you. “The necklace,” he said finally, pointing to the pendant around your neck. “Where did you get that?”

You opened your eyes slowly, confusion etched across your face as you looked around. Strangers, all of them, and yet… there was something familiar. Wanda held you closer, an almost overly protective gesture, as Strange approached.

“Don’t come any closer,” Wanda growled, her magic crackling in her hands.

“I just want to understand,” Strange said calmly, though his posture was tense. He knew what was at stake. “If what I think is true, she’s not just unique… She’s impossible.”

“What are you talking about?” Wanda’s fingertips blackened, magic already summoned. “She’s real. And she’s mine.”

Strange hesitated, keeping his hands raised in a gesture of peace, but his eyes remained fixed on the sun-shaped pendant around your neck. He spoke slowly, as if weighing each word before releasing it.

“I’m talking about something that shouldn’t exist. A broken line in the fabric of time. That necklace… it’s not just an ornament. It’s an anchor, a link to something beyond our comprehension.” He paused, as if struggling to organize his thoughts. “She… shouldn’t be here.”

“Watch your words, Strange,” Wanda murmured, her voice low and threatening. Her blackened fingers trembled, and the magic around her seemed to pulse with the intensity of her rage. “She is everything that should be here. And you will not touch her.”

Strange looked at Wanda, a mix of pity and caution in his expression. He knew the line was thin, and the witch was teetering on the edge of an emotional abyss. “I’m not trying to take her from you, Maximoff. But you need to listen. Because if what I’m seeing is true, we’re dealing with something that affects more than just you or this world.”

“Stop it,” Wanda interrupted, her voice rising in intensity. “You don’t understand! You think you know because you have books and spells. But this…” She looked at you, her expression softening for just a moment before hardening again. “She’s mine. Every life we’ve lived, every sacrifice we’ve made. This isn’t a mistake, Strange. This is love.”

“Love or destiny?” Strange countered, his eyes gleaming with something between curiosity and reverence. “Because if she is who I think she is, there’s no separating the two.” He motioned subtly to the pendant. “Do you understand what she’s carrying around her neck? That energy isn’t just ancient, Wanda. It’s primordial. It’s the origin.”

Wanda shook her head, stepping back instinctively, as if she could push Strange’s words away. “You’re wrong! It can’t be that. I would know. I would feel it. I would see it in our lives together.”

“But you didn’t,” Strange replied, his voice softer now, but still firm. “Because you couldn’t. Because this isn’t something that reveals itself. It’s something that manifests, in time and necessity.”

Wanda’s disbelief was palpable. She looked at you, searching for some confirmation that what Strange said was absurd, but all she found was your confused gaze, still lost in the whirlwind of emotions and information.

Strange continued, his voice now heavy with gravity. “She is more than a being. She is a point of convergence, something that all cosmic forces recognize but cannot control. And now, Maximoff, she is at stake.”

Wanda pressed her lips together, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall. “No. You’re wrong. It doesn’t matter what she is to the universe. She’s mine. And no one is going to take her away from me.”

“That,” Strange said, pointing at Wanda, “is precisely why she is different. Because even with all the power and chaos surrounding her, you see her as a person. Someone to be loved, not feared.” He took a deep breath, the tension on his face easing slightly. “And perhaps, Maximoff, that’s exactly what she needs to be right now. Before the rest of the multiverse realizes what’s happening.”

Wanda didn’t respond. She only pulled you closer, her trembling hands tracing gentle lines along your skin as if to reassure herself you were there—whole and hers. But in her mind, Strange’s words echoed like distant thunder, heralding a storm she knew she couldn’t ignore for much longer.

Tears streamed down the woman’s face. “Feared?” she murmured, the word escaping like a broken whisper. Her eyes fixed on your face, even closed in the torpor of sleep, and she felt a pang of despair at the peace in your expression. Peace that, perhaps, she could never truly protect. She held your hands—your youthful skin standing out against hers.

“How could something so pure be feared?”

You were everything to Wanda. Her doll, so precious and untouchable. Her bright sun, chasing away the shadows of her own soul. When everything around her was darkness, you were always the light guiding her back, the anchor keeping her connected to her humanity. But now, Strange’s words seeped in like poison, awakening something she didn’t want to face.

Why you?

She knew there was something about you, something no one else understood. The way your presence seemed to alter the very fabric of reality around you, as though the universe bent to accommodate you. The way you bore the weight of chaos magic, not as an imposition but as if it were a natural, almost organic, part of you.

You couldn’t be just human.

The idea was unbearable, but Wanda knew she couldn’t avoid it any longer. Every word from Strange, every unspoken suspicion, every piece of evidence pointed to a greater secret buried deep within your existence. A secret Wanda feared to uncover because it meant you weren’t solely hers.

But you were. You had to be.

The sound of boots echoing behind her broke her train of thought. Strange had moved closer, his gaze now a mix of curiosity and something heavier, almost sorrowful. He opened his mouth to speak, but Wanda raised her hand, a silent warning.

She wasn’t ready to listen.

Carefully, Wanda adjusted you in her arms and stepped back, keeping your presence as a shield between you and the world that seemed determined to unravel you. Her mind was a whirlwind of denial and fierce protection, but in her heart, a doubt grew like a shadow.

“What is she?” Wanda asked, her voice low and hoarse, almost a whisper swallowed by the vastness around her. She didn’t lift her gaze, fixing it on you in her arms as if the answer might lie in the softness of your breathing or the warmth of your skin.

The tears at the corners of her eyes glimmered under the magical light still hovering around, and even without meeting them directly, no one there could doubt what was happening: Wanda Maximoff, the most feared and powerful woman they had ever known, was fragile.

Stephen Strange saw it. He saw the vulnerability hidden in the witch’s careful gestures, in the trembling fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. He saw the weight she bore, the duality of her strength and fragility.

Slowly, he straightened his posture, squaring his shoulders. The gravity of the moment demanded more than words; it required a delicacy he rarely needed to wield.

Stephen took a deep breath, adjusting his stance as every eye in the room turned to him. The silence was palpable, broken only by the distant sound of held breaths. Wanda continued to hold you in her arms, her gaze fixed on Strange, daring him to say something that could explain the impossible.

“There are stories, legends even, lost in the darkest corners of the Multiverse,” Stephen began, his voice firm but laden with reverent respect. “Stories of the Guardians Infinitum. They are not merely powerful beings. They are... embodied concepts, tied to the fabric of the Multiverse. Each of them belongs to a clan, and each clan is responsible for maintaining the fundamental balance of existence.”

Thor crossed his arms, his surprise evident. “Guardians of the Multiverse? I’ve not heard of them in Asgard.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Strange replied without breaking his gaze from Wanda. “They existed before Asgard, before Odin. Before even time had form.”

“And her?” Natasha asked skeptically, leaning forward. “Where does she fit into this?”

Strange hesitated, as if the words were difficult to articulate. “She... is a Solis. The rarest of all. The clan that represents the Sun, the primordial essence that fuels everything that exists. They don’t just create; they maintain the cycle of infinity. Pure cosmic energy, capable of shaping realities and undoing even the most absolute forces, like death.”

Tony let out an incredulous laugh, breaking the silence. “So, what you’re saying is she’s a walking cosmic battery? Fantastic. Just tell me she has a self-destruct button.”

“Shut up, Stark,” Wanda snapped, her voice sharp as a blade, but her gaze remained fixed on Strange.

Stephen ignored Tony and continued. “The Solis clan was... lost. Almost all of them were destroyed by Thanos. He feared them because they represented something he could never control: primordial energy, the force that keeps the Multiverse connected. But now...” He looked directly at you, still unconscious in Wanda’s arms. “She is the last. And that makes her a target.”

Thor frowned, his expression growing serious. “If the clan was lost, how is she here? How did she survive?”

“That’s what I need to find out,” Strange admitted. "Wanda?" He raised an eyebrow at Wanda, encouraging her to say something.

“Her parents. In every life, they were already gone, and Y/n was either raised by adoptive parents or in orphanages. In this life, she told me about a fire. It was massive, violent. She and the necklace were all that was left.”

Thor crossed his arms, gripping his hammer tightly as if feeling the weight of the story unraveling. “A fire that destroys everything... and spares only a child and an artifact? That doesn’t sound like a coincidence.”

“It isn’t,” Strange replied, his voice grave. He stepped into the center of the room, his cape softly flowing behind him. “The Solis were known to protect their descendants with extreme measures. Even in moments of annihilation, they created mechanisms to ensure their essence—their power—would never be entirely lost.”

Tony scoffed, breaking the silence with a cynical laugh. “Right, so we’re talking magical inheritance now? Some kind of cosmic insurance policy? Because, frankly, this sounds straight out of bad fiction.”

Natasha shot Tony a cold look but said nothing. Her focus remained on Wanda, who held you even closer as if fearing someone might snatch you away. Wanda seemed lost in thought, but her hands trembled slightly, betraying the storm inside her.

“It’s more than that,” Strange said, ignoring Tony’s comment. “The clans were masters of manipulating existence itself. It’s possible her parents channeled everything they had to protect her, sacrificing their own lives in the process. The necklace she carries... it’s not just a keepsake. It’s a link. An anchor for her power.”

Wanda finally looked up, her tears dried but her eyes still shimmering with conflicting emotions. “So, you’re saying this wasn’t an accident? That she survived because they wanted her to? For... what? What kind of life is that?”

Strange held her gaze for a moment before answering. “I don’t know if it was a choice or desperation. But what’s clear is that the fire wasn’t just an accident. Someone knew what she was. And they tried to erase her before she could realize her potential.”

The silence that followed was so heavy it seemed to fill the entire space. Thor appeared to be digesting the information, while Natasha watched Wanda’s every move, ready to intervene if necessary. Tony rubbed his temples, visibly uncomfortable but without a joke to lighten the mood.

Thor finally broke the silence, his deep voice resonating through the room. “And the necklace? Does it hold that power too?”

“Not exactly,” Strange said, stepping closer to Wanda. “The necklace is a channeler. It stabilizes her energy, prevents her from consuming herself. Without it...” He looked directly at Wanda, as if willing her to grasp the weight of his words. “Without it, her power would be chaotic. Unstable. And devastating.”

Unconsciously, Wanda pressed the necklace against you, as if Strange’s words had confirmed her worst fears. “She won’t lose it. No matter what.”

Strange nodded slowly, but there was something more in his expression, something he hesitated to say. Finally, he spoke, his voice lower. “Wanda... the necklace might also be the key to something much greater. Something not even the Guardians of Infinity could fully understand.”

Wanda’s gaze hardened. “What are you trying to say?”

Strange hesitated for a moment before responding. “I’m saying her power might not be complete yet. And Seline... the child... she has a destiny too. It’s not just the Solis bloodline running through her veins. It’s your magic as well. Chaos. A cycle within a cycle.”

Wanda didn’t respond. She simply held you closer, her eyes fixed on the emptiness ahead as if processing the weight of everything she had just heard. The room was tense, and even Tony was at a loss for words this time.

What no one noticed was that, in the corner, a small golden flame danced on the edge of the necklace, pulsing softly as if alive and listening to every word.

Standing abruptly, her breath uneven, Wanda tried to compose herself. “And what am I supposed to do, huh?”

“Leave her here,” Strange said plainly.

Wanda laughed, but there was no humor in her voice; it was sharp, dripping with irony and despair. The room fell silent as her magic began to thrum in the air, red energy crackling with intensity. Everyone held their breath, watching the witch who seemed on the verge of exploding.

“You think I’m going to leave her here? With you?” Wanda gestured, her voice filled with disdain and disbelief. “In another universe, surrounded by strangers who would never understand what she is? Who would never protect her like I would? You’re insane, Strange.”

Strange remained calm, but his expression was serious. “Wanda, I know you think you’re doing what’s best for her, but listen. Here, I can study her, help her channel her powers. If she’s as powerful as she seems, she’ll need control. Guidance.”

“She has control,” Wanda snapped, her anger boiling over in her words. “And I’m the only guidance she needs!”

“Wanda—” Strange tried to reason, but before he could continue, she raised her hand, and with a swift motion, flung him against the wall. The impact was loud, making the shelves tremble as books tumbled to the floor.

“Only I can protect her!” Wanda roared, her magic crackling around her, transforming the space into a storm of chaotic energy. Natasha stepped forward, ready to act, but hesitated when she noticed something.

It was your voice, so soft it was almost a whisper amid the chaos, that cut through the air like a blade. “Wanda? What happened?”

The room froze.

You were awake, your eyes blinking in confusion as you looked around, vulnerable and so small you seemed to shrink within the vastness of the unfamiliar space. “Why... is everyone yelling?” Your voice trembled, each word an effort.

Wanda turned to you instantly, her expression shifting from rage to something softer, almost broken. All the energy around her seemed to wither, as if your very presence was a balm to the storm inside her.

“You’re awake...” Wanda murmured, kneeling beside you. She pulled you close again, one hand gently stroking your head while the other clutched the necklace around your neck, shielding it from every gaze in the room.

Strange, still recovering from the attack, remained silent, watching. The golden flame on the pendant glowed more intensely, as if echoing Wanda's promise. But something in the light seemed different... something he knew Wanda hadn't yet noticed.

"Wanda, I..." You tried to speak, but your voice failed, and your hand found hers, squeezing it gently. "I'm scared."

The sound of your vulnerability seemed to break what little was left of Wanda. She closed her eyes, her tears returning silently. "I know," she whispered, her voice laden with desperate tenderness. "But you don’t need to be afraid. I’m here. And no one is going to take you away from me. Ever."

The silence that followed was tense, but Strange knew it was the right moment. He didn’t try to approach immediately. Instead, he stayed where he was, rubbing his sore neck while observing you and Wanda. His eyes fixed on the pendant, glowing softly, before meeting yours.

"You know what that is, don’t you?" he asked, his voice careful, almost hesitant. He didn’t want to scare you.

You looked at him, confused, then at the necklace around your neck. Your hands instinctively touched the pendant, its familiar warmth offering a sense of security. "It’s just... it’s just a necklace. It was my mother’s." Your voice was low, as if the words carried a weight you didn’t even know existed.

Strange frowned, not in disbelief, but with cautious curiosity. "Do you feel anything when you wear it? Something... different?"

You hesitated, your fingers still on the necklace. "I... I don’t know. Sometimes it feels alive, like it has a heartbeat of its own." You looked at Wanda, seeking comfort in her gaze. "But it’s just a necklace, right? Just a keepsake."

Strange took a step closer, slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal. "It’s not just a necklace. It’s an artifact from a clan that shouldn’t even exist anymore. The Solis Clan. And you... you’re proof that it still does."

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion. "What does that mean? What’s really happening?"

Strange took a deep breath, realizing he needed to be direct. "The Solis Clan was responsible for maintaining primordial energy, the force that connects everything in the Multiverse. They were powerful, but also dangerous. And for reasons no one fully understands, they were wiped out. Or at least, that’s what we thought."

Your eyes widened. "Wiped out? Why?"

He hesitated but continued. "Because the power they carried was too immense. So much so that it could destabilize everything—every life, every universe. The kind of power people fear because they can’t control it."

"So you think I’m like them?" Your voice trembled.

"You’re not like them," Strange corrected. "You are one of them. The last. Which means, somehow, you survived what destroyed your clan. And the necklace—it’s connected to that. It protects you. Or maybe, it protects the power inside you."

Your hands fell, your eyes wide in shock. "I don’t... I don’t want to be dangerous. I don’t even know what you’re talking about."

"I know it’s a lot to take in," Strange said, his voice gentler. "But you need to know. You need to understand what this means. Because, with or without your consent, that power is in you. And there are people out there—things out there—that will want to use it. Or destroy it."

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "No. I’m not that. I’m not a monster."

"You’re not a monster," Wanda intervened, her voice firm and laden with emotion. She cupped your face, forcing you to look at her. "You’re mine. And no one is going to hurt you. Not while I’m here."

Strange watched the scene, his expression a mix of understanding and concern. "Wanda," he began, but was cut off.

"Don’t say another word," Wanda snapped, her voice cold. "She’s scared enough already. Do you think explanations and theories will help? They won’t. She’s not an experiment for you, Stephen. She’s a person. And she’s staying with me."

You looked from Wanda to Strange, trying to process everything. His words echoed in your mind: power, danger, clan. But it was Wanda’s voice that seemed to anchor you, like a beacon in the storm.

"I just want to know who I am," you murmured, your voice barely audible.

And in that moment, Wanda realized that despite all her love and protection, perhaps you needed to hear more truths than she was willing to accept.

Hours later, Strange offered a room in the tower. Wanda hesitated; leaving you there, so vulnerable, in a place that wasn’t your home, felt wrong. But you were exhausted, your eyes barely able to stay open, and reluctantly, she agreed.

Now, Wanda stood before a mirror in the room, her face illuminated only by the soft glow of the moonlight. Her thoughts were a whirlwind. Solis. The word seemed to vibrate in the back of her mind, laden with meaning. Guardian of Infinity. Wanda had always known love was complicated, but this... this was a destiny she had never imagined.

If she had enemies before, she now had an army of threats.

The sound of the door opening pulled her from her thoughts. You entered, your hair still damp from the shower, wrapped in a fluffy white robe that seemed too big for your small frame. Seeing Wanda, you smiled shyly and approached. Without a word, you gently kissed her shoulder, a soothing gesture that made her tense shoulders relax slightly.

"Where are the boys?" you asked, your voice soft and concerned but clearly tired.

"With Agatha," Wanda replied, straightforwardly.

You raised your eyebrows, surprised. "Oh. So Professor Harkness… she—"

"Knows everything? Yes." The answer came quickly, but then Wanda’s voice softened, almost thoughtful. "She helped me at the beginning of all this. To understand my magic. She saw things in me that even I didn’t understand."

You were silent for a moment, absorbing the information, but you couldn’t hold back your next question. "And… and what happens now?"

Your voice came out short, almost breaking, as if the answer was something you were afraid to hear. Wanda turned to you, and this time her eyes were steady, full of certainty.

"Now, we’ll find a way. Because this is bigger than the two of us," she said, her voice filled with conviction.

Before you could ask what she meant, Wanda extended her hand and placed it gently on your belly. You froze, holding your breath.

"This is..."

"Seline," she murmured, a small but tender smile forming on her lips. "Yes, my love. She’s here. Our Seline."

Tears filled your eyes before you could stop them. Your whole life, all you had ever wanted was this: a family to love, protect, and call your own. Now, against all odds, it was happening.

Wanda wiped away a tear that rolled down your cheek and held your face in her hands. "I know it feels impossible. I know it’s a lot. But you’re not alone. We’ll do this together."

You smiled through the tears, your hand covering hers. "No matter what happens, Wanda. I’ll protect them. I promise."

Wanda’s eyes softened, but there was a fire in them—a resolute determination. She leaned in and kissed you, gentle but with an intensity that said everything words couldn’t express.

Outside, the world was on the brink of a storm. But there, in that room, under the moonlight, there was a sliver of peace. It wasn’t just chaos—it was creation emerging from it. And both of you knew, with all certainty, that you would do whatever it took to protect this new life—this family you were building.

It was a blessing. It was a miracle. It was only the beginning.

The entirety of your life had felt adrift, rootless, homeless. The world seemed vast, empty, an infinite expanse where you were but a forgotten particle. But now, as you looked at Wanda—your light, your strength, your reason—and felt the warmth of the silent promise between you, something shifted within you.

That emptiness was filled. Not with magic, but with love. A love that pulsed in the walls of that house, in the laughter of the children you called your own, in the knowing glances exchanged in the quiet of the night. A love that turned chaos into purpose and destiny into a shared choice.

You had never understood what it meant to belong until this moment. Until you felt the weight of a mutual promise, of a future you would build together, of a family that was as imperfect as it was unbreakable. The infinite, which had always seemed so cold and distant, was now warm, embracing—and it was yours.

You looked at Wanda, at the soft curve of her smile, the strength she radiated. There lay the answer you had always sought. It wasn’t about being the Guardian of Infinity. It wasn’t about the powers you possessed or the battles you had fought. It was about the love that finally anchored you. With Wanda by your side, with Tommy and Billy in your life, with Seline growing within you, you felt alive for the first time. Not a life that chose you, but one you had chosen for yourself.

You were whole. Not because you had found a destiny, but because you had created a home. And that night, as the moonlight bathed the two of you in a silvery glow, you knew you would shine. Not just as the Guardian. Not just as a survivor. But as someone who had finally learned what it meant to be loved.

It was enough to realize that this thing called infinity had always been inside you. And now, it was brimming with love.

~*~

Tag list <3

I'm crying with a piece of bread in my mouth u.u

So good to see R building a safe home, and that's what I wish to for all of us.

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

[claramelooo]

HAHAHAA this poor woman can't lie when she supposed should do it

Agatha when she’s running a centuries-old scam and has to ‘yes and’ her way through not one but two Maximoff hexes

Kathryn when she keeps getting asked about a season 2 of AAA

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Hey guys! It's all crazy and to top it off I'm still sick, I'm getting better thanks to teas and Advil. But here I am...

Enjoy it! <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Pairing: Dark!Witch Wanda x Fem Reader

Warning: +18, smut, anal play, impregnation fetish, degradation, jealousy Wanda

Summary: You find out what happens when you're pushed to the limit

Hey. Now I've a masterlist

SHINE

Morning arrived gently, like a whisper only the skin could hear. Light filtered through the curtains, painting shadows and shapes in golden tones across the rumpled sheets. The room smelled of warmth, a faint floral perfume, and something unmistakably Wanda.

Your body was still wrapped in the haze of sleep, but awareness began to surface in waves, carrying with it the presence of the woman beside you. A barefoot touch grazed yours, warm and subtle, as if seeking something more profound than a simple connection: a silent promise of closeness.

Wanda’s nose brushed the curve of your neck, a simple yet devastating gesture. You could feel her rhythmic, tranquil breath, spreading like a caress across your skin. The soft texture of the sheets contrasted with the comforting weight of her arm draped over your waist, holding you as if fearing the dawn might steal the privilege of having you there.

It was in these quiet moments that everything felt different. The lightness that love brought wasn’t an escape but a new weight—one you carried gladly. The fine line between what was her and what was you seemed to blur, like the light filtering through the curtains, merging day and night.

Wanda shifted slightly, pressing her lips to the space between your neck and shoulder—a kiss that felt like a signature on your skin, a reminder that you belonged to her.

You opened your eyes slowly, feeling the warmth of your breath against the pillow. “Are you awake?” you murmured, your voice rough from sleep.

“Maybe,” came the whispered, humor-laden response, her tone magnetic as ever.

You smiled, your heart skipping a beat. “Staring at me again?”

“As if it’s a crime,” Wanda replied, her fingers trailing lightly along your waist—delicate but firm.

“Flirting with me before eight in the morning,” you teased, turning in bed to face her. Your eyes met hers—green like a sunlit meadow.

“I’m entitled,” she said, leaning closer. The gentle touch of your noses was followed by the soft pressure of her lips against yours, a kiss that held everything: the tenderness of the night, the warmth of the day, and the promise of everything to come.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet aroma of bread toasting in the kitchen as you assembled the twins’ lunches at the counter. Tommy and Billy sat at the table, eyes still half-closed, already bickering over who could finish the orange juice first.

Wanda entered the kitchen, her hair slightly tousled, with an expression of pure morning laziness that only made her more irresistible. You felt her presence before you saw her—a warmth that seemed to fill the room.

“What’s your plan for the day, professor?” you asked, a playful smile on your lips as you spread butter on Billy’s toast.

She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, her eyes sparkling with a kind of intimacy that made the world feel closer. “The usual,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “It’s so dull going to work and not seeing your face. Did you know I only took that job to see you?”

You laughed, stepping closer with an intentionally loaded look. “Miss intimidating me in your office?”

Her voice turned naturally seductive as she leaned just slightly toward you. “You have no idea how much.”

Her hand rose to gently brush a loose strand of hair from your forehead, her fingers moving with calculated tenderness. There was an electric charge in the exchange, a tension that seemed to absorb even the muffled laughter of the twins in the background.

“Eww! No kissing!” Tommy interrupted with exaggerated indignation, making Billy burst into laughter.

You and Wanda pulled back with knowing smiles, though the playful glint in her eyes was impossible to ignore.

“Ah, puberty...” Wanda sighed, feigning resignation as she turned to the boys.

“Mom, don’t tell me you never thought it was gross when your parents kissed,” Tommy shot back with a grimace.

Wanda arched an eyebrow, already prepared with a sharp retort. “Of course, I did. But look at me—I survived. Love doesn’t kill, Tommy. Neither does a little romance.”

“Maybe boredom does,” Billy added, laughing and earning a high-five from his brother.

You watched the scene with a serene smile, handing the finished lunches to the boys. “Come on, eat quickly. You’re almost late,” you said, though your voice carried the lightness of someone who was home.

As the boys dashed off to grab their backpacks, Wanda turned her gaze to you, the earlier intensity returning.

“One day, they’ll understand,” she said softly, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“If they don’t, oh well,” you teased, smiling as you returned the affection. “They’ll have to deal with it, because, sorry, I’m addicted to you.”

Wanda laughed, the sound light and filled with a love that made the day begin just right. “And I’m addicted to you,” she whispered as the boys’ hurried footsteps echoed through the house.

The clock read 10:37 AM when you finally found a moment to pause at work. The teacher’s lounge was quiet, except for the soft clicking of keys in the background. The air smelled of stale coffee, and you took the opportunity to pour yourself a cup. The morning had been intense but rewarding—your students were finally beginning to grasp Whitman’s poetry.

You were about to sit down when Maria Hill walked in. Her deliberate, measured steps immediately drew your attention. The last time you crossed paths had been during a board meeting, and even then, you exchanged little more than a formal nod. Today, however, she seemed determined to speak with you.

"Professor," she began, her voice carrying a casual tone that felt too practiced to be genuine. "It seems your class is one of the most talked about this semester."

You looked up, studying her face. There was something difficult to decipher there—a contrast between professional composure and something far more personal.

"I'm just trying to keep things interesting," you replied with a polite smile, doing your best to ignore the faint unease her presence stirred within you.

Maria leaned against the counter, arms crossed in a posture that appeared relaxed, though her gaze remained fixed on you, observing every detail. "Interesting is an understatement. Some teachers spend years trying to make that kind of impact."

You knew it was a compliment, but the way she said it sounded... odd. As if there were layers beneath her words that remained unspoken.

"It's part of the job," you said, keeping your tone neutral.

Maria smiled—a small, enigmatic expression that hinted at something veiled beneath the surface. "Have you always been like this? Passionate about what you do?"

The question caught you off guard. Before you could answer, her eyes narrowed slightly, as though analyzing more than just your words.

"Are you asking if I’ve always wanted to teach?" you asked, attempting to diffuse the tension.

"Not exactly," Maria said, her tone lowering, becoming softer. "I mean... have you always been like this? Strong? Resilient?"

You paused, feeling the weight of her question. The way she spoke stirred old memories—ones you preferred to keep buried. Times when you had no choice but to be strong, to endure, to survive.

Before you could respond, Maria pressed on, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, but carrying an emotional weight that felt more personal than professional. "Not everyone can turn the scars of their past into something... powerful."

"Do you have kids?" you asked abruptly, steering the conversation away from uncomfortable territory.

"Two," you answered, a softer expression crossing your face as you thought of Billy and Tommy. Just the thought of them brought a brief, calming reprieve.

"They’re lucky," Maria murmured, her voice gentle but with an undercurrent of something more complex. "Lucky to have someone like you looking out for them."

“Your husband must be proud,” she added, the statement sounding casual, though her eyes watched you intently, studying your reaction with what could only be described as calculated curiosity.

"I'm not… married to a man," you replied evenly, though you felt a warmth creeping up your neck at the subtle shift in the conversation.

Maria tilted her head slightly, absorbing your words with a careful consideration. A faint smile touched her lips—not one of surprise, but of quiet understanding, as if you’d just confirmed something she’d long suspected.

"Not married to a man," she repeated slowly, each word deliberate, precise. "Interesting."

The weight of her gaze was palpable, almost tangible, like an invisible pressure pressing against you. Her eyes never wavered, and the intensity of her scrutiny made it hard to breathe.

"And your wife… or partner?" Maria continued, her voice dropping to a lower register, each word laden with significance. "Does she understand who you are? Everything you’ve been through?"

You took a step back, feeling an all-too-familiar tightness in your chest. Maria had a way of asking questions that cut deeper than they should, as though she could peel back layers of your soul with little more than a glance. Whether she intended to or not, it left you feeling exposed.

"She understands what matters," you said firmly, striving to maintain your composure. "And that’s enough."

Maria took a step closer, and the air around you seemed to shift. There was nothing overtly threatening about the movement, yet her proximity felt overwhelming, as though each step carried an unspoken intent. Her presence was suffocating, each motion precise, calculated to unsettle you.

"Does she?" Maria murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because I remember a version of you who didn’t have anyone. Who was alone. Vulnerable. And I wonder…"

Her words trailed off, but the impact lingered, each syllable like a key turning in a lock you desperately wanted to keep shut.

"I wonder if that part of you still exists," she continued softly, her tone almost gentle, yet with an undercurrent of sharpness, like a blade hidden beneath velvet. "If there’s still something inside you that misses it—being pushed. Being tested. Being forced to the edge."

Her proximity was unbearable, her warmth pressing against you like a physical force. Her voice, low and steady, seemed to sink into your bones, coaxing out thoughts you’d buried long ago. You tried to take a steadying breath, but it felt as though the very air had been siphoned from the room.

Your nose prickled—a familiar, unwelcome sensation—and you felt the warmth of blood trickling down. Instinctively, you brought your hand to your face, recoiling slightly as you pulled back to see the crimson smear on your fingertips.

Maria’s gaze followed your movements, her eyes darkening as she took in the sight of blood. For a fleeting moment, her expression shifted—something crossed her features that you couldn’t quite place. Fascination? Concern? It was gone too quickly to tell. But there was a gleam in her eyes, a flicker of something primal, like she understood more about what was happening to you than you did.

"Are you alright?" Maria asked, her voice carefully controlled, yet carrying a weight that felt almost predatory.

"I'm fine," you said quickly, though your voice trembled slightly. The pounding in your head intensified, each beat reverberating like a drum. Waves of pain radiated outward, distorting your vision and making it hard to focus.

"Are you?" Maria pressed, taking another step toward you. "You don’t look fine. In fact… you look like you’re about to break."

Her words carried a strange satisfaction, as though she’d been waiting for this—for you to unravel, for your control to slip.

You are our sun.

Shine.

Shine for the world.

The voice returned, insidious and relentless. Your parents’ mantra echoed in your mind, weaving itself into your consciousness like a thread you couldn’t untangle.

"Y/N?" Maria’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. It snapped you back to the present, anchoring you to reality for a fleeting moment.

You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision. Maria stood closer now, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that bordered on invasive. There was something predatory in her gaze—something that made you feel like prey trapped in a hunter’s sights.

"I said I’m fine," you repeated, taking another step back. But your body betrayed you, trembling under the strain. It was as if an electric current pulsed beneath your skin, wild and untamed, begging for release.

Maria tilted her head, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "No, you’re not. You’re burning from the inside out. I can see it."

Her voice was soft, almost soothing, but it carried an undercurrent of satisfaction, as though she’d been waiting for you to reach this breaking point. Waiting for the cracks in your façade to show.

You are our sun.

Shine for the world.

The pounding in your head grew louder, the mantra intertwining with the pain, with the memories you’d fought so hard to bury. Your vision blurred again, and the room spun, but the voice remained crystal clear.

Maria tilted her head, observing you intently. “You don’t look well. In fact, you look… ready to explode.”

There was something in her voice—a touch of barely concealed satisfaction. As if she had been waiting for this, waiting to see how far you’d go before breaking.

You are our sun.

Shine.

Shine for the world.

The dizziness worsened, the ground seemed to shift beneath your feet. Then, for an instant, you saw something—a flickering image in your mind like a broken reflection. Light. A golden glow radiating from you, warm and relentless.

You stumbled, leaning against the nearest wall. “I just… need to get out of here.”

You left the room, holding your nose—blood dripping hot between your fingers, unstoppable. Your vision wavered with every step, the world around you distorting as if it were unsteady. The sound of your own shoes against the floor felt muffled, distant, while the pain in your head throbbed relentlessly, a pounding drum deep in your mind.

Every step toward the car felt monumental. The pain spread, no longer confined to your head, but racing down your spine, burning like a line of fire. Sharp stabs concentrated behind your eyes, stealing your breath. Your knees threatened to give out, and you clung to anything nearby, seeking balance.

Shine.

Shine for the world.

The voice was incessant now, growing louder, as if merging with the pain itself. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block it out, trying to make sense of it. But it was impossible. Everything was too much—the blood, the pain, the suffocating echo of the words.

When you finally reached your car, your hands trembled so much that you couldn’t find the keys. The dizziness worsened, and the world began to spin. You leaned against the car door, breathing deeply, but the oxygen refused to reach your lungs.

In that moment, that second of pure desperation, you heard something. A different voice. More real.

“Y/N?”

Lifting your eyes with difficulty, you saw Wanda. She was standing at the doorway to the house, her face a mask of worry. You tried to say something, but your voice failed. The pain was unbearable now, a knife buried deep in your mind.

In an instant, Wanda was by your side. Her red magic shimmered around you, and before you could protest, she lifted you effortlessly into her arms.

“Wanda, I…” You tried to speak, but the world was spinning so fast it felt like it was collapsing.

“Shh,” she murmured, her voice low and urgent. “Don’t talk. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

As Wanda carried you inside, her touch resonated within you. But there was something more. You realized she was feeling the pain too, sharing it in some way. Her face was tense, as though every step was a struggle.

“It’s burning me,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe and pain. “What’s happening to you?”

You wanted to respond, to explain, but you had no answers. All that remained was the pain, the blood, and the voice that continued to whisper.

Shine.

Shine for the world.

When you reached the living room, Wanda set you down gently on the couch, her gaze drifting over the blood still dripping from your nose. Her eyes were filled with tears she was holding back through sheer willpower.

“I’ll take care of you,” she said firmly, but you saw the fear behind her words. “I promise.”

As she placed her hand on your forehead, trying to channel her magic to ease your pain, all you could feel was the unbearable weight of that voice. And for the first time, you feared it might be right. That you needed to shine—but at what cost?

The weight was crushing when you opened your eyes. The room was cloaked in shadows, with only the moonlight filtering through the curtains, painting soft lines on the floor. Your entire body ached as if it had been crushed by something invisible, but you knew you had to get up.

With effort, you swung your feet onto the floor, trying to find your balance, but the world spun. The dizziness was overwhelming, and your shaky steps betrayed your weakness.

Before you could take more than two steps, the door abruptly opened. Wanda entered, carrying a tray of food, her eyes immediately locking onto you, filled with worry and irritation.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Her voice was firm, a command that cut through the air. “Lie down.”

You tried to protest, but she was already by your side, guiding you back to the bed with a gentleness that contrasted with her authoritative tone. She adjusted the pillows behind you and placed the tray on your lap, filled with hot soup, bread, and a glass of water.

“You’re going to eat this, and then rest. I don’t want to hear another word about getting up.”

Her manner was almost maternal, but the intensity in her eyes revealed something deeper: concern, love, and an almost desperate need to protect you.

When you finished eating, Wanda took the tray and pulled a chair close to your bedside. She held your hand, her fingers stroking yours. Her voice was softer when she finally asked:

“Now tell me… What happened?”

You hesitated, but her gaze didn’t allow for evasion. Sighing, you began to speak.

“It was Maria. The school principal. Today, at work. She… approached me.”

Wanda’s face immediately hardened, but she remained silent, waiting for you to continue.

“She started talking about the past. About who I used to be under her authority. I… I don’t know how to explain it, Wanda. Something she said threw me off, and my head started pounding.”

You felt Wanda’s gaze intensify, but the words kept flowing, like a painful confession.

“She humiliated me back in high school, pushed me in ways I didn’t understand. I hated it, but at the same time… I liked it. Liked the way she was cruel to me. Like there was power in it, something that made me feel alive in a strange, twisted way.”

The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by the sound of your uneven breathing. Wanda remained still, but the magic around her began to pulse in soft red hues, like a racing heartbeat.

“Today, she did it again,” you continued, your voice trembling. “She got close, so close I could smell her. She asked about my life, pressed me with that tone that made me want to disappear. And I… I felt like I did back then. Small and insecure. I couldn’t react. My body just… gave in.”

Wanda’s green eyes were locked on yours now, and you saw something in them that made you shiver: anger, jealousy, and an intensity that seemed capable of setting the world ablaze.

“You’re telling me,” Wanda began, her voice low and controlled but electric with tension, “that this woman… thinks she has any claim over you?”

You tried to speak, but she didn’t give you the chance.

“Thinks she can pressure you, humiliate you, and get away with it?” The veins at her temples were visible now, her magic flickering around her fingers like flames.

“Wanda, I—”

“No.” She stood, her power surging around her, almost tangible in the air. “You are mine. And no one, absolutely no one, has the right to do this to you. Not Maria. Not anyone.”

The weight of her declaration hung between you, and for a moment, you didn’t know whether to feel fear, relief, or both. All you knew was that despite her intensity, Wanda’s presence was the only thing keeping you anchored to reality in that moment.

With a rough gesture, Wanda grabbed your chin to make you look at her.

The air seemed to vibrate with Wanda’s energy, charged with emotions you could barely process. Her power was there, pulsing beneath the surface, illuminating the room in crimson hues like a storm about to erupt. The question hung between you, heavy, impossible to ignore.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Her voice was low, but there was something dangerous in it, something that made your heart race. Her grip on your chin wasn’t gentle; it was possessive. Wanda held you as if the mere act of looking away would be an unforgivable offense.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. All you could do was feel—her overwhelming presence, the heat radiating from her, the knot forming in your throat as you struggled to process everything.

“Answer me.”

Her fingers tightened slightly, her green eyes blazing like fire. “Did you like what Maria did to you?”

Did you know the answer wasn’t simple? Nothing about this was simple. Part of you wanted to deny it, to walk away from this conversation, but another part... the part Wanda seemed to see so clearly... knew there was no escape.

“I…” Your voice faltered, and you swallowed hard, feeling the tightness in your throat. “I hated it. And... at the same time…”

Wanda tilted her head, her eyes narrowing, focused on every nuance of your words.

“Go on. Keep talking.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to summon strength. But all you could see was red — the red of her magic, the red of her anger, the red that seemed to color every thought in your mind.

“Part of me liked it because... because it reminded me,” you finally admitted, each word an effort. “Reminded me of how I used to feel. Of who I used to be.”

Wanda’s expression hardened, and you saw the pain your words caused. But she didn’t pull away. On the contrary, she stepped even closer, until your faces were nearly touching, her breath warm against your skin.

“And do you miss that?” The question came low, almost a growl.

You shook your head quickly. “No. I don’t want to be that person again.”

“Then why did you let it happen?” Her tone was merciless, but there was a vulnerability buried in it, a fear she couldn’t quite hide.

“Because I’m broken,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Because part of me still believes I deserve it.”

Wanda exhaled slowly, as though trying to contain her fury. Her fingers slid to your neck, pressing lightly, as if she wanted to feel your racing pulse beneath your skin.

“You don’t deserve that,” she said at last, her voice softer, yet still full of intensity. “You never did. You were young, weak… Maybe you still are, aren’t you? Of course, you’d let her have some kind of control over you.”

Wanda tilted her head, her fingers still firm around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you feel the rapid beating of your heart. Her eyes never left yours, piercing, as if she wanted to strip away every secret you still hid.

“You see yourself as a victim,” Wanda murmured, almost with disgust. “A puppet anyone can manipulate. But do you know what I see?”

You swallowed hard, your entire body on alert, every cell vibrating under her touch. “What?”

“I see a woman who needs to be broken in a different way.”

The tension in the room became almost unbearable. The heat, the silence interrupted only by the sound of your ragged breaths, and Wanda’s overpowering presence made the air feel heavy. Every word she spoke was an electric current running down your spine, igniting every nerve, every hidden desire.

Wanda’s fingers slid along your collarbone, the touch as light as a whisper. But there was a promise in the slow, deliberate movement, one that made your skin burn. You knew she was testing your limits — but you also knew Wanda wasn’t the kind to tolerate resistance for long.

“Broken… in a way that you’ll beg never to be fixed,” Wanda continued, her voice low and husky, as her fingers trailed up your neck, closing around your throat. “I can feel your heart beating here.” She pressed lightly, her thumb against your racing pulse. “I wonder who it’s beating for.”

You tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. All you managed was a strangled sound, a mix of surprise and pleasure.

“What’s the matter?” Wanda smirked slowly, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Cat got your tongue, little doll? Still thinking about her?” She spat the words.

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the firm grip on your throat turned any attempt at a response into a shaky moan. Your eyes met hers, and the intensity in Wanda’s gaze made your entire body tremble.

Wanda’s face was a mask of control on the verge of breaking. Fury and jealousy burned in her eyes like a storm threatening to consume you entirely. Her grip on your throat was firm but didn’t hurt — at least not in the way you expected. Instead, every touch of hers made something inside you melt, every word laden with a dark desire that made your whole body hum.

“You should know,” she murmured, her tone low and rough, almost a warning. “You should know that no one else can have you. No one else can make you feel what I do.”

Her fingers tightened slightly, and you felt the pressure increase, the air growing scarce but still enough to keep you conscious. Wanda controlled every breath, every sensation — and you didn’t want her to stop.

“And yet, you let someone else get close,” she continued, her voice dripping with disdain and possessiveness. “You let another woman believe she had any right to you.”

“I—” you tried to speak, but Wanda increased the pressure, silencing you again.

“No,” she growled. “I don’t want excuses. I want you to understand one thing.”

She leaned in until her lips brushed yours, never easing her grip. Her breath, when it finally reached you, was hot and heavy with restrained anger.

“You’re mine,” she declared, every word a command that seared into your skin. “You’ve always been mine. And now… now you’ll pay for letting yourself believe, even for a second, that anyone else could possess you.”

Your eyes closed as a shiver ran through your body. Her tone, the firm touch on your throat, the promise of punishment — it all made the heat inside you rise to an unbearable level. You felt your body respond to her authority as if it were made to fit perfectly under Wanda’s control.

“Look at me,” she ordered.

Your eyes opened slowly, meeting hers. There was something primal there, a raw need mingled with her anger. You didn’t just see jealousy — you saw obsession. You saw love in its most dangerous, possessive form.

“Who’s your heart beating for, Y/n?” Wanda repeated, her eyes narrowing as her thumb pressed against your pulse. “For me… or for her?”

You knew what the right answer was. You knew exactly what Wanda wanted to hear. But at the same time, something pulled you toward the abyss—a desire to provoke her, to test the limits of her control, to see how far she would go to reclaim the authority she never should have lost.

So, instead of answering, you remained silent.

Wanda’s smile faded. For a moment, there was only silence, save for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint, ominous hum of her magic lingering in the air.

“Silence?” Wanda arched an eyebrow, her tone almost mocking, laced with dangerous amusement. “Still thinking about her, perhaps? Thinking about what she did to you?”

“No!” you cried out, the sound hoarse, choked by the invisible grip around your throat. “I only think of you. Only you, Mommy.”

For a fleeting moment, her gaze softened, a flicker of warmth crossing her features—but it disappeared just as quickly. Her anger returned, simmering beneath the surface, more intense than before.

“Am I supposed to believe that?” Wanda asked, tilting her head slightly, studying you as if dissecting your very soul. “After what you did? After you allowed someone else to touch what is mine?”

She lowered her head until her lips brushed your ear, her voice low, intimate, dripping with both threat and promise.

“I’ll break you, my little doll,” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. “I’ll make you remember who you belong to.”

The constriction around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a shuddering breath, but Wanda gave you no time to recover. In one swift, calculated move, she claimed your mouth in a fierce, almost brutal kiss, her teeth scraping your bottom lip, drawing blood.

You whimpered against her mouth, your body surrendering entirely to the control she demanded. Tears streamed down your face, the salty droplets mingling with the metallic taste of blood on your lips.

“That’s it,” Wanda murmured, her voice softening as she pulled back slightly, her fingers caressing your cheek to wipe away your tears. “Cry for me. Show me you understand.”

Her gaze locked onto yours, intense and unrelenting. Her fingertips traced the contours of your face, the touch deceptively gentle.

“I want all of you,” Wanda said, her tone a mix of tenderness and authority. “Your body, your mind, your heart. Everything.”

You nodded, your eyes never leaving hers. “I’m already yours.”

“Then prove it,” she whispered, the words carrying weight, dripping with expectation. “Prove to me that you are mine. And only mine.”

The air around you both vibrated with her magic, the energy suffocating and comforting all at once. You knew she was about to push you to your limits—and deep down, you craved it more than anything.

Your tears streamed freely, thick droplets tracing down your cheeks as you whispered, “Do whatever you want with me, Mommy. Punish me. I deserve it.”

Wanda wasn’t finished punishing you. Her rage was palpable—it hung in the air like a storm ready to break, crackling in every word, every movement. She stepped back for a moment, pacing slowly across the room, her footsteps echoing in the tense silence. The suspense only heightened your anticipation.

“What’s your safe word?” she asked, her voice steady, controlled. She wasn’t testing your limits—she was daring you to withstand more.

“Crimson,” you answered, your voice raspy, barely above a whisper.

Wanda stopped pacing, her darkened eyes locking onto yours. Slowly, with deliberate precision, she walked to a nearby wardrobe and opened it. Your heart raced as you watched her pull out a black leather belt, worn and heavy—a symbol of unyielding authority, of her dominion over you.

The sound of the belt sliding through her fingers echoed in the quiet room, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Do you know why you’re being punished?” Wanda asked, taking a step toward you, folding the belt carefully in her hands.

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation. Your voice was steady, but inside, you trembled—with anticipation, with desire, with a desperate need to be hers.

“Then say it.” She stopped in front of you, her gaze smoldering, intense. “Tell me why you deserve this.”

“Because I… I let another woman dominate me,” you whispered, your eyes dropping to the floor in shame. “I let her believe she had power over me.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of your confession hanging in the air. Wanda remained still for several long moments, simply watching you, analyzing every breath, every tremor.

“On your knees,” she commanded, her voice low but absolute.

You dropped to your knees without a second thought, your palms resting on your thighs, your gaze still lowered. Wanda circled you slowly, the sound of her footsteps reverberating through the room, each step increasing the tension, the fire burning beneath your skin.

“Look at me,” she ordered.

You lifted your head, meeting her gaze, and what you saw in her eyes made your entire body shudder. There was anger, yes—but there was something deeper, more profound. Reverence. As if you were a sacrifice offered to her, a precious possession that she would never let go.

“What are you?” Wanda asked, leaning closer, her face mere inches from yours.

“I’m yours,” you replied without hesitation, your voice steady, resolute.

“Whose?” Her grip on the belt tightened, the leather creaking under the pressure of her fingers.

“Yours, Wanda. Only yours.”

A predatory smile spread across her lips, dangerous and alluring. Wanda stepped back, raising the belt, running it slowly through her fingers as if savoring the anticipation.

“Lie down,” she commanded.

You obeyed instantly, lying on the bed, your body tense yet aching for her touch. Wanda climbed onto the bed beside you, kneeling next to you, the belt gliding over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“You deserve to be punished,” she murmured, her fingers tracing your jawline with deceptive tenderness. “And I will teach you what happens when you forget who you belong to.”

The first strike was sudden, unexpected. The sharp crack of the belt against your skin echoed in the room, and your back arched instinctively, a strangled moan escaping your lips. The sting burned, yet awakened something primal inside you—a deep, insatiable need to surrender completely.

“Count,” Wanda demanded, her voice unyielding.

“One,” you gasped, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.

Another strike, this one harder. The heat radiated from the point of impact, and you whimpered, your body trembling with the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure.

“Two.”

Wanda maintained a steady rhythm, each strike precise, calculated. Each lash of the belt was a reminder—a mark of her ownership over you, etched not just into your skin but into your very soul.

As you counted each number, the tension between you grew, thickening the air around you. The magic surrounding Wanda crackled, her power tangible, suffocating yet intoxicating.

When you reached the tenth strike, your voice broke, tears streaming down your face. But they weren’t tears of pain—they were tears of release, of surrender. Of absolute devotion.

Wanda stopped, the belt falling to her side. She leaned over you, her fingers once again brushing your tears away with an almost reverent gentleness.

“My little doll,” she whispered, her voice soft, affectionate. “Look at you. So beautiful like this. So completely mine.”

You sobbed quietly, your body trembling under her touch, every part of you laid bare before her.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice cracking with emotion. “Thank you, Mommy.”

Wanda’s smile softened, though the possessiveness in her gaze remained. She leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and consuming. The taste of her was everything you needed—a reminder that you were exactly where you were meant to be

“This,” she murmured against your lips. “Now you understand.”

And you did. Every mark on your skin, every tear shed, every whispered word—it was all an oath. A silent promise that you belonged to Wanda. That you always had.

“My good girl,” Wanda whispered, her lips now brushing against your ear. “And no one… no one… will take you from me.”

The intensity of her words made your heart race even faster. Wanda’s hand ran down your neck to your chest, pressing you into the mattress, as if she were holding you both physically and emotionally.

Her eyes burned with something that went beyond anger. It was adoration, obsession, a love so deep and fierce that it seemed capable of consuming the entire world if it had to.

Wanda’s hands caressed the red skin of your ass. The contrast of the cold of her hands against your hot, abused skin. Her long fingers caressed your outer lips, feeling how wet you were. She uses your lubrication and takes it to your asshole, making your eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh… Look at that,” Wanda murmured with a cruel smile, her fingers still caressing your wet folds, slipping easily between the heat and desire that dripped from you. “So wet just from being spanked? From being put in your place?”

You moaned, trying to hide in the bed, but there was no escaping her. Wanda knew every part of you — body and mind. She knew exactly how to press until you had no choice but to surrender.

She laughed softly, and her laugh was both a comfort and a torture. “You’re such a desperate slut, aren’t you? How does it feel to have my finger in your asshole?”

The humiliation burned your skin, but it was a fire that only increased your desire. You tried to open your mouth to protest, but Wanda was already lowering her hand again. Not to hit you this time, but to slide her wet finger into your other hole, circling it slowly, threatening to enter.

“Surprise?” Her voice was a whisper of pure sin. “Do you think I’ll spare you after what you did? Do you think I won’t claim what’s mine?”

You felt her finger press into your ass, teasing the entrance to your anus, a slight push that made you arch your back and let out a loud moan. Your entire body trembled, torn between discomfort and the overwhelming pleasure that was about to explode.

“Oh. Look at that… A little slut who loves having all her holes used, isn’t she?” She pressed even harder, making your eyes roll back with the mind-blowing pleasure. The massage her fingers did in the spot was skillful, making you want more and push your ass against Wanda.

“Beg.” She said through her teeth, making circular movements in your ass. “Beg mommy to fuck your virgin ass.”

Saliva slowly dripped from the corners of your mouth, forming a shiny thread that fell onto the sheets beneath you. Your mind was in a dense fog, as if reality itself had dissolved around the intensity of the moment.

“Mommy, please…” Your tongue curled as you spoke due to the amount of saliva accumulated in your mouth.

“Try again.” Her rigid voice left no room for questioning.

“Mommy, please— Fuck, fuck me. Use all my holes however you want. Use me.” You cried out, whimpering. You begged for her. You had been a bad girl, but here you were seeking redemption.

“It’s something like this…” Wanda murmured, her voice hoarse as if each word was impregnated with repressed desire and pure fury.

The air around you seemed to vibrate with her intensity—not just her magic, but the emotional storm that Wanda carried within her. Jealousy. Anger. And an obsession that burned so hot it could incinerate anything it touched.

“P- Please touch my pussy, please, please, please,” you cried out, but Wanda only hummed.

“No, you don’t deserve to be touched there.” Wanda said, pushing the tip of her third finger into you.

Removing her fingers from you, she grabbed the bottle of lube and lubed up your strap-on. She pulled the toy out, needing to spread the lube around and what was the perfect way to do that? “You let me know if you need me to add lube, got it?”

“Yes- Yes, just fuck me already.” You trembled beneath the older woman.

You felt your hair being pulled at the roots, making you arch your back towards Wanda and stick your ass up against her strap-on. “You think you can give me orders now? Huh?!” She tugged hard on the strands, making you scream.

The scent of sandalwood filled the air around you, intoxicating your senses, making it impossible to even form a coherent thought. Each breath seemed to pull Wanda deeper into you, until all that was left was her overwhelming presence—burning like a secret you never wanted to confess.

Her fingers slid across your scarred skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“You should be so grateful,” Wanda murmured, her tone thick with contempt and adoration mixed into one sentence. “Even with that foolish mind of yours, that dared to stop thinking about me… I’m still here.” She leaned her face down until her lips brushed your ear, her voice so low it sounded like an inverted prayer. “Mommy is here… giving you exactly what you need.”

The weight of her words made your breath hitch, your entire body shaking under Wanda’s relentless control. Your eyes closed for a moment, letting the warmth of her presence consume you completely.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice weak and broken. But it wasn’t enough. “Thank you, Mommy,” you repeated, more firmly this time, as if each word was an offering.

“You should be grateful. Do you think Maria can give you that?” This sense of belonging, this love?” She growls as she pushes an inch inside you.

“Wands…” You moan needily, and receive a thrust so hard that it makes you gasp in pain.

“That name. You are not to use it now, understand? Not while you are nothing to me, nothing but a hole for me to use.” She snapped, tears welling in your eyes. You turned your head so she couldn’t see.

“Good, now that it’s all in, you will tell me when I can start fucking you. And I won’t start until you give me the green light, Dekta.” She soothed.

You nodded, shuddering as she pushed the rest of the toy inside you. As she promised, Wanda stood still, rubbing your lower back as she waited for you to adjust. You waited ten minutes, wanting to get used to the feeling. The strapon she was using was a size you weren’t used to, especially in your ass. But it wasn’t unbearable, and when you looked at Wanda and nodded, you gave her the go-ahead.

The witch began to fuck you at a slow pace, wanting to make sure she wasn’t actually hurting you. As much of a bad girl as you had been, you were still her girl. And nothing in the world would change that.

“God, the mess you’re making of me just because I have my dick in your ass. You’re so fucking pathetic.” She laughed, picking up the pace.

Wanda leaned over you, her weight crushing both your skin and your soul, making it clear who was in control. Her fingers slid around your waist, squeezing with an inhuman strength, while her eyes burned with that corrosive jealousy that hadn’t yet dissipated.

Her voice came low, slurred, each word laced with venom and possession. "Do you think Maria saw you the way I do? Do you think she felt what I feel for you? No. She only saw something to use. An easy toy to break. And you let her."

You tried to shake your head, but Wanda wouldn't let you. The tightness in your throat tightened a little, not enough to hurt, but enough to silence you.

"You're mine. But do you want to know the truth?" She leaned in even closer, her lips almost touching yours. "Without me, you're nothing."

The words cut deep, a direct blow to your pride, but strangely, you felt heat spread throughout your body. Each insult was a testament to how much Wanda cared—her love was fierce, sickening, but it was also undeniable.

"Repeat it," she demanded, her fingers now slowly sliding to your jaw, keeping your face up so you couldn't look away. "Tell me who you are without me."

Your bottom lip trembled, shame and desire fighting inside you.

"I… I am nothing."

"Louder."

"I am nothing!" You screamed, your voice shaky and desperate, feeling the tears burn your eyes. "I am only something because you made me be!"

Wanda's fury was a weight in the air. Every beat of her heart seemed to set the environment around her on fire, her magic pulsing like a living creature, thirsting for more. Her fingers trembled as they slid through the leather belt she still held, but not from insecurity — it was the anger that bubbled inside her, a storm of emotions she could barely contain.

Maria's name echoed in Wanda's mind like a curse.

Maria.

This woman who dared to touch what didn't belong to her. Who dared to think, for a single second, that she could have you. Who could break you as if Wanda hadn't molded every piece of your soul with her presence, her touch, her burning love.

The jealousy burning inside Wanda was a wildfire, and her magic danced around her in response—deep red, dark crimson, like freshly spilled blood. The energy crackled at her fingertips, leaving a trail of sparks across the room as she paced in slow circles, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Did she have you?” The question reverberated in her mind, and the answer hurt like a raw blade. It didn’t matter that you were here, at her feet, begging for forgiveness. It didn’t matter that your every word was a promise of submission. All Wanda could see was another woman daring to believe she had any control over you.

Wanda knew what it was like to be marked by the past. She knew what it was like to carry the scars of pain, of abandonment, of loss. But to see you—the one thing in the world that made your darkness seem bearable—touched by another? That was unforgivable.

“Did she make you moan?”

“Did she see that look in your eyes?”

“Did she know how to make you beg?”

Each question fueled Wanda’s anger, and the magic around her responded with a perfect reflection of her emotions. The crimson sparks turned into strands of energy that snaked through the air, dancing like serpents around Wanda. The intensity of the magic increased with each dark thought that passed through her mind.

But what really made Wanda burn with jealousy—what made her want to rip out her own heart so she wouldn’t feel so much—was the fact that you let this happen.

You, who were hers.

You, who belonged to her from the moment your eyes met.

You, who were now marked not only by Wanda, but by another woman.

“No, Mommy. She never took me for her own. I’m only yours.” You murmured with difficulty, but firmly.

Wanda’s smile was cruel and satisfied. And it surprised you when you felt your clit being massaged by her fingers. “Mommy was very happy now.” She says and plants a kiss behind your ear, and now, the thrusts become hard and rough.

“Mommy’s little girl’s ass is so tight…” She murmurs without eloquence, just feeling, just corrupting your untouched body.

Wanda’s fingers tightened around your waist, her knuckles turning white. She knew she needed to release this energy before she lost control. But first, she needed something more—she needed to hear it from you. She needed to be sure that every inch of you still belonged to her.

She stepped closer slowly, her green eyes shining like emeralds beneath the crimson glow of the magic that still floated through the room. Jealousy brimmed in her voice as she whispered,

“Say it again. Who do you belong to?”

“You,” you murmured, your eyes brimming with tears.

“It’s not enough.” Her voice grew lower, more menacing. “Say her name.”

You hesitated for a moment, fear and shame mingling in your gaze.

“Maria…” The name fell from her lips in an embarrassed whisper.

Wanda shivered. The magic around her flared brighter, and for a moment, the entire room seemed to fill with that dark red.

“She thought she could have you.” Wanda smiled, but it was a cruel smile, sharp as a blade. “She thought it could be me.”

Her eyes flared, and the anger that had once seemed ready to explode was replaced by something even more dangerous: a calculated calm.

“She won’t think that anymore.” Wanda’s voice was low, a warning. “I’ll make sure Maria understands exactly who you belong to.”

Wanda’s magic fed on jealousy, on the desire to possess. And the more she thought about Maria—this intruder, this threat—the more powerful it became. The crimson sparks began to solidify, forming currents of energy that fluttered around Wanda, as if waiting for an order.

But for now, Wanda turned her attention to you. Because before she could deal with Maria, she needed to make sure you understood.

That you would never make the mistake of giving yourself to anyone other than her again. She gripped your chin firmly, forcing you to look at her.

“You’ll thank me for this,” Wanda whispered. “You’ll thank me for reminding you of who you are. Who you belong to.” Her touch burned, but it was a fire you craved. Because despite everything, despite the anger, the jealousy, the pain—you knew this was where you wanted to be.

“Thank you, Mommy,” you whispered, your entire body shaking under her intense gaze.

“Good girl.” Wanda smiled slowly, satisfied. But deep in her eyes there was still an unspoken promise—a promise that Maria would pay. Because Wanda was not someone who forgave easily.

Your orgasm was building with each thrust, you didn’t even know it could feel this good. But she found you begging for her: “Mommy, please! Forgive me, please, please! I need to be forgiven so much.” You cried, tears streaming from your eyes as you slobbered all over her mattress with your saliva and juices.

The sound of your sobs, the way you begged, made Wanda tremble all over. She tried to hold her breath, but her body betrayed any attempt at control. Her hands were steady, but her fingers trembled slightly as they caressed your tear-stained face. The weight of your words—“Mommy, please! Forgive me, please, please!”—echoed in her head like a song that fed her ego and her obsession.

You were so small, so surrendered, so broken. All that was left was a fragile, submissive creature, molded by Wanda’s hands, desperate for approval. She knew Maria could never have seen you like this. She would never have understood the absolute power that came from reducing you to this—to something pure, vulnerable, wanting to be molded, guided, belonging entirely to her.

The sight of you lying there, sweating, crying, your lips wet and your face pressed into the mattress as your saliva dripped like a glistening stream, was intoxicating. The absolute control Wanda had over you made her own pulse race. The corrosive jealousy of before gave way to something even darker and more pleasurable: the knowledge that you were hers alone.

“Look at you,” Wanda whispered, her voice shaking slightly. She couldn’t help it—a low, incredulous laugh escaped her lips. “So beautiful, so… pathetic. Begging as if your life depended on it.”

She gripped your chin, lifting your face. Your eyes were glassy, ​​lost in submission, and Wanda almost groaned at how broken you were—and how perfect it was.

She began to ease her thrusts into your ass and leaned down to place hot kisses on your back, an affectionate and reverent act. You were so precious, the most beautiful thing Wanda had ever had the pleasure of holding in her hands.

Wanda pulls out of you, missing the feeling of having you squeezing her. You huff, whimper, growl at not getting what you want and Wanda finds it adorable.

“What do you want?” She teased, already massaging the needy entrance to your pussy.

At that moment, there was nothing more urgent than this. You needed this, like you needed air to breathe.

“Mommy! Please touch my pussy. I can’t take it anymore.” You say in a shaky breath, your whole body trembling. “I need to be filled.” You begged, and heard a needy moan coming from her. It was clear, now this was torture for both of you.

“Fuck, turn around. I need to fuck you now.” She growled, pulling you into a claiming kiss.

The world seemed to stop the instant Wanda pulled you in, her strength and urgency drawing a gasp of surprise from your lips. There was nothing soft about the way she kissed you—it was a growl turned into action, raw and hungry, as if she were trying to engrave her possession into every cell of your being.

Her fingers sank into your hair, tugging at it with a firmness that made your scalp tingle, while her other hand anchored itself around your waist, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. The kiss was a fierce collision of lips, teeth, and desire, as if she wanted to devour you whole.

You could barely breathe, lost in her overwhelming heat, in the magic that seemed to vibrate in every inch of your skin. Her taste was a mix of anger and something deeper—something primal and possessive, that made your heart hammer and your legs threaten to give way.

And when she entered you, her eyes turned completely red and frightening. The pleasure she felt was not one of those safe types, it was corrosive, it made you burn inside.

“Fuck, that feels so much better now…” Wanda’s tone seemed lost in you, in your surrender and confidence. “Mommy wants her little girl to cum like this.” She murmurs in a slow rhythm, while biting the curve of your neck and inhaling the scent there.

“Oh, fuck, mommy—” You moaned loudly when you felt her cock hit the spongy spot inside you. “Tell me that you love me. That even after I messed up, you’re still obsessed with me.” You said in a dangerous impulse inside you.

Wanda’s body tensed at your words, her eyes shining with a mix of desire and something deeper—an abyss that she herself seemed unable to control. She didn’t respond immediately, and the silence between you was heavy, heavy, like the pause before a storm.

“Tell me,” you repeated, your voice a little lower, but no less provocative. It was a dangerous impulse, yes, but also a raw need to hear the words come out of her lips.

“I…” Wanda’s breathing was ragged, lust burning like liquid fire in her veins. Her hand came up to cup your face, her fingers trembling with an emotion she couldn’t name as she thrust inside you. “I love you. More than I should. More than is safe.”

The words came out almost like a forced confession, and yet there was an undeniable firmness to them. Wanda seemed lost, as if the intensity of her own feelings were drowning her, but she couldn’t stop.

“Do you think it’s obsession?” She continued, her voice hoarse, almost a whisper. “Maybe it is. Because when I look at you, I can’t think of anything else. I can’t breathe without wanting you closer. Without wanting you all to myself.”

You felt her body tremble against yours, a mix of desire and vulnerability that seemed to swallow the air between you. It was as if Wanda was completely intoxicated by what she felt, unable to contain herself. With you squeezing around her, sucking her cock—extracting all of her milk, making her spill inside you.

“I love you so much…!” Your back arched on the king-size bed, making Wanda bury herself deeper inside you. “So much, mommy…” You curl your fingers between her red strands, feeling the softness.

“Fuck. I’m going to fuck you so fucking hard.” She growled, increasing her movements—frantic and desperate. Wanda was going to cum, and she would cum hard.

Your breasts rubbed together, your nipples hard as rocks with excitement. And it was when she fingered your clit that you lost it. Your hips and legs trembled around her.

“Cum. Cum for mommy, little slut.” Wanda moaned in a slurred, needy tone, thrusting so deep that her hips were uncontrollably slamming into yours. “Shit. You’re so beautiful…”

“Mommy!”

You came, repeating her title like a sacred mantra, your legs shaking and swaying around the woman who kept thrusting—also already giving in to her own orgasm.

Wanda’s orgasm came like a volcanic eruption, a release so overwhelming that it seemed to tear the very fabric of reality around her. It was more than physical pleasure—it was power, pure, intoxicating magic, poured directly into you, as if each thrust was an offering, each moan an ancient chant that awakened something dormant deep within the sorceress.

She had never felt anything like it.

Sweat dripped from her forehead, dripping onto her hot skin, mixing with the tears and saliva you had already shed. But the trembling in your legs and the fire burning in your belly were clear signs that this wasn’t just a climax—it was a fusion. A part of her, an essence, a fragment of her very being, was being deposited within you like a mystical seed that would soon blossom.

“Fuck, this is…” Wanda gasped, unable to find words, her knees sinking into the mattress as her body convulsed with pleasure. The intensity left her staggering, barely able to maintain her balance, as if the weight of the moment were too great to bear. With each tremor, with each contraction of your inner muscles around her, Wanda felt her magic react—sparking, pulsing, flowing into you like a river that overflowed beyond any control.

She gasped, her fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks. “You… fuck, you’re mine.” Her voice came out hoarse, almost like an animalistic growl. “All of this… everything you feel… belongs to me now.”

You repeated her title like a sacred mantra, your voice shaky and punctuated by moans. “Mommy… Mommy…” With each time you said it, Wanda felt her pleasure amplify, reverberating within her own body, until the peak was so overwhelming that she thought she might shatter completely.

When she finally collapsed on top of you, her face pressed against your neck, Wanda could still feel her heart pounding furiously against her ribs. But what truly left her breathless was the absolute certainty that coursed through her body like an electric current: you were marked by her. Indelible. Irrevocable.

“Do you feel it?” Wanda whispered, her lips brushing lightly against your ear. Her voice was low but carried a weight of power. “This is a part of me now, inside you. Growing. Taking root. You’ll never get rid of it.”

The thought made Wanda shiver again. Maria would never have this. She could never touch your soul the way Wanda did. You weren’t just her lover or her submissive anymore — you were an extension of her, the reflection of her magic and her obsession.

It was as if something vibrated beneath your skin, an invisible seed that Wanda had planted within you — something deeper than any physical touch, more penetrating than any word. Her presence was there, latent, like a magical current pulsing inside you, radiating through every cell, every nerve.

It was power.

And at the same time, it was devastation.

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, as if it might burst at any moment, your legs still trembling around her thighs. Your breathing was ragged, but the air seemed insufficient, as though the world around you had changed — as though you had changed.

Wanda had left something inside you.

Something that was growing. Blooming.

Every mark on your skin burned like a silent vow. You belonged to her, and now her magic itself was woven into you — alive, pulsing, demanding to be acknowledged. Your fingers clenched into fists beside the mattress as a tremor ran through your entire body, residual pleasure mixed with a fear you couldn’t trace back to its origin.

Then everything shifted.

The lights in the room flickered.

Once.

Twice.

And then… darkness.

Your head began to spin. You felt a mounting pressure in your ears, a buzzing that seemed to come from within you, as if something were trying to emerge, to break through the surface. Your vision blurred, and the familiar scent of iron filled your nostrils.

Your nose was bleeding.

You brought a trembling hand to your face, touching the blood that slowly dripped down toward your mouth. The metallic taste mixed with the saliva still glistening at the corners of your lips, and you tried to speak, but no sound came out. Everything around you felt distorted, as if the world were spinning on an axis you couldn’t follow.

And then, the voice came.

Shine.

It was like a whisper, but it also echoed like thunder inside your mind.

Shine for the world.

Your body stiffened. The words reverberated within you, pulsing in time with the magic Wanda had left behind. The pain in your temples intensified, as though something was about to explode inside your skull. Each heartbeat sent a wave of agony through your body.

“No… no…” you tried to say, but the voice ignored your resistance.

You are mine.

It was no longer Wanda’s voice.

It was something older. Deeper.

Something that had always been inside you — waiting to awaken.

You rolled onto the floor, pressing your palms against the carpet, trying to anchor yourself to something real, something solid. But everything around you seemed to be crumbling. Your body shook, as if it might shatter under the weight of the magic coursing through your veins.

“I can’t…” you murmured, your voice broken. “I can’t—”

You will shine.

The voice laughed.

Because that’s what you were born for. That’s what you were made to do.

And you knew there was no escape. Wanda’s seed had been planted within you — and now it was beginning to bloom.

But it wasn’t just power growing inside you.

It was destruction.

And, at the same time, a promise that you would never be the same again.

“Please…” you whimpered, not knowing if you were speaking to the voice or to Wanda. “Please, mommy… don’t leave me alone.”

The lights continued to flicker, and the metallic scent of blood in the air made Wanda frown, her gaze darkening with confusion and concern.

“Sweetheart?” Her voice was low, husky, still carrying the remnants of the possessive authority from before, but now there was something more. Something deeply maternal. Protective.

She saw you on your knees, trembling, and the sight hit her like a blow to the chest. The blood dripping from your nose made her heart stop for a moment. This wasn’t the kind of submission she wanted. This was pain. Real. Cruel. And, worse still, it was something she didn’t understand.

“Hey…” Wanda knelt beside you, her fingers trembling as she cupped your face. “Please, look at me. I’m here.”

You couldn’t. Your head was still spinning, the sound of that voice echoing like distant bells inside your mind. Shine. Shine for the world. The words kept hammering at you, as though they were being etched into your skin with fire.

“I can’t…” you whispered, sobbing. “It’s here. Inside me. Something… something is wrong…”

Wanda’s eyes widened, and her concern turned to panic. “Who? Who’s inside you? Maria?” Her voice was a low growl.

You shook your head frantically, your fingers clutching at the fabric of Wanda’s shirt like an anchor. “No… it’s not her. It’s something… A voice. Something that’s trying to use me.”

“No.” Wanda’s voice hardened, and the magic around her began to crackle in the air, sparks escaping from her fingertips. “No one will use you. No one!”

She pulled you into her lap, wrapping her strong arms around your trembling body. Her touch was firm, but there was no anger left. There was a fierce tenderness now, a possessive care that seemed to say: If the world dares to touch you, it will have to go through me first.

“I won’t let anything hurt you,” Wanda promised, her voice a fierce whisper against your ear. “Do you hear me? No matter what it is, no matter who it is. I’m your mother. I will protect you.”

You sobbed against her chest, feeling the security that only Wanda could offer. Even when everything inside you was falling apart, she was there—solid, unchanging.

"I'm so confused," you murmured against her skin. "My head... my head hurts so much..."

Wanda stroked your hair, her fingers gently gliding through the damp strands. "Shh... I know. I know, my love. Mommy's here. You don't have to do anything alone."

Her magic began to envelop you both, a comforting warmth that pushed the darkness away for a moment. Yet, even so, Wanda felt something strange—something coming from within you. A magic that wasn’t hers.

Shine. Shine for the world.

Wanda frowned. Those words weren’t hers, but they lingered in the air like a curse.

"You won't shine for anyone but me," Wanda growled softly, almost as if talking to herself. "You are my light. And no one will extinguish you."

She pulled your face to look into your eyes—her fingers firm yet gentle as she wiped the blood from your nose with her thumb. Your face was streaked with tears and saliva, lips slightly parted in a state of absolute vulnerability. It was the most devastating thing Wanda had ever seen.

"I will take care of you."

Her voice was a whisper, but it carried the weight of an unbreakable promise. "Whatever it is... we'll face it together."

You tried to smile, but the fear still lingered in your eyes. Wanda saw it, and something inside her roared like an enraged bear.

"Whoever did this to you..." Wanda held your face more firmly, her eyes burning with restrained fury. "I will destroy them. I’ll tear apart every single piece of whoever dared to hurt my girl."

You shook your head frantically, panic rising. "No, Wanda... this is inside me."

"Then I'll go inside you too," she said with fierce conviction. "I'll rip it out. I'll cleanse you. I'll keep you safe. And you'll never feel this again."

But as Wanda spoke, you heard that voice in your mind again.

Shine.

It laughed.

Shine… until there's nothing left.

And then, everything went dark.

[...]

While you lay unconscious on the couch, Wanda was restless. She paced the room like a caged animal, her fingers trembling with the magic she was desperately trying to contain. After what had happened—your collapse, the blood, the pain—she felt it. She knew she couldn’t wait any longer. There was something greater, something darker, tied to your necklace, tied to you, and she needed to figure out what it was.

But she didn’t know how.

In a desperate move, she did what she had avoided for months: she reached out to Carol, suspended on the brink between life and death. Wanda had placed Captain Marvel in that state, confining her to a space where her consciousness was held in suspension. But now, the weight of guilt and the need for answers outweighed her hesitations.

Wanda took a deep breath, and with a flick of her fingers, her red magic enveloped Carol. Slowly, she brought her back. Carol's body convulsed, a scream caught in her throat as she opened her eyes.

"You..." Carol whispered, her voice hoarse from so much time in silence, her eyes wide in shock and disbelief that she had allowed herself to be overtaken by Wanda, that she had underestimated her.

"I need you conscious," Wanda said, her tone firm but with an underlying fragility. "This isn’t about you. Not now."

Carol coughed, trying to catch her breath as her senses slowly returned. Her body felt heavy, almost broken, but her mind, always sharp, quickly pieced together what had happened.

"You... kept me like this," she said through gritted teeth, her voice filled with rage. Her eyes glowed, the cosmic energy within her trying to manifest but failing under Wanda's restraints. "How long, Maximoff?"

"It doesn’t matter," Wanda replied firmly. But there was something in her posture—a mix of guilt and desperation—that betrayed more than her words.

"It doesn’t matter?" Carol stood, though unsteady, facing Wanda. "You imprisoned me. You erased me. And now you decide you need me? What gives you the right?"

Wanda stepped closer, her eyes narrowing, her magic still pulsing in her fingers. "I did what was necessary. You wouldn’t understand."

"Wouldn’t understand?" Carol let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing through the room. "You’re so arrogant, Wanda. You think that just because you have power, you can manipulate people as you please? How wouldn’t I understand? Do you forget who I am?"

"You’re someone who tried to stop me," Wanda retorted, her anger beginning to seep into her voice. "You tried to take her from me. And I couldn’t let that happen. I won’t lose anyone else!"

The two faced each other like two forces of nature on the verge of collision, the tension growing with every second. Carol clenched her fists, the energy within her struggling against Wanda's constraints.

Wanda took a deep breath, her shoulders falling slightly as the intensity in her eyes remained unwavering. The glow of magic in her hands flickered but didn’t fade entirely. She looked fragile, like a branch about to snap, but at the same time terrifyingly formidable, like a storm ready to consume everything around her.

Carol crossed her arms, her expression stern, but there was something different in her stance now. She wasn’t just angry; she was trying to understand, trying to make sense of Wanda’s fierce obsession.

"And what are we going to do then?" Carol asked, her voice a little lower but still filled with skepticism.

Wanda raised her gaze, the red glow reflecting in the dim room. "Take me to Strange."

"Strange?" Carol arched an eyebrow, almost laughing at the idea. "You know he sent me to capture you, don’t you? He gave me clear orders to stop you, Wanda. What makes you think he’ll help?"

There was a heavy silence. Wanda looked at you for a long moment, still unconscious on the couch, your expression soft in contrast to the relentless strength she had shown moments earlier. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost reverent.

"Because she’s different," Wanda murmured, as if the words were a secret she didn’t fully understand herself. "So different that even forces like us can’t comprehend her. There’s something in her, something that doesn’t belong to this world… or any other we know."

Carol followed Wanda's gaze to you, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration. "This is about her, isn’t it?" Carol repeated, pointing in your direction. "You think you’re protecting her, but you don’t see that you’re putting everyone in danger! Wanda, what if you’re wrong?"

The question hung in the air, heavy, as if the entire universe was waiting for the answer.

Wanda straightened her shoulders, the brief softness in her expression disappearing, replaced by a cold, unyielding determination. She walked slowly toward Carol, stopping so close that Captain Marvel could feel the heat of the magic pulsing around her.

"If I’m wrong," Wanda said, her voice as sharp as a blade, "then I’ll make it right. Because I won’t lose her. Not now, not ever."

For a moment, Carol remained silent, assessing Wanda as if trying to decide whether to keep fighting or simply accept the inevitable. Finally, she sighed, throwing her hands up in a gesture of resignation.

"Fine," Carol said, defeated but still irritated. "I'll take you to Strange. But know this: if he decides you're a bigger threat than anything else, I won't intervene. You're on your own, Maximoff."

Wanda didn’t respond immediately, but a small smile curved the corners of her lips—not one of satisfaction, but of somber relief.

"I'm not alone," she murmured, her eyes drifting back to you.

Carol shook her head, exasperated. "You're insane. Literally insane."

Wanda lifted her chin, an aura of power mixed with her trademark stubborn arrogance. She faced Carol with the confidence of someone who had confronted the impossible and emerged victorious.

"I'm not crazy, Carol," Wanda said, her voice sharp as a blade and as steady as the magic still pulsating in her hands. "I’m just a simple woman... who loves. And when you truly love someone, there’s no sacrifice too great."

Carol narrowed her eyes, still trying to decide whether that response was genuine or just another of Wanda's manipulations. But the Scarlet Witch offered no further explanation. She turned away, walking toward you with determined steps, her crimson cape billowing like fire as she knelt by your side, her fingers gently brushing your forehead.

"She’s ready," Wanda said, her voice softening as she spoke to you, even with Carol standing just behind her.

The last portal closed behind you, swallowing the dazzling glow of stars and worlds dancing on the edge of the possible and the unknown. In the silence of the new space, Wanda held you firmly in her arms, as if carrying not just your fragile body but all the hope that still lived within her.

She wasn’t foolish. She knew the paths she had chosen would lead to dangers that challenged even the strength of the Scarlet Witch. But she also knew that the light she had found in you—the only one bold enough to pierce the darkness that once threatened to consume her—was something she wasn’t willing to lose.

You were her sun, even now, unconscious and vulnerable. You were the center around which she orbited, the warmth she sought even in moments when the shadows of her mistakes seemed endless. No matter how many worlds they had to cross, how many battles they had to fight. Nothing would be big enough, nothing frightening enough to extinguish the radiance you had brought to her existence.

There was something sacred in the silence between you, something no spell could explain. Every step Wanda took, every surge of cosmic energy you crossed, seemed to strengthen her resolve. No matter the cost, no matter the enemy. She would do anything to protect you—and whatever it was you were about to discover.

In that moment, as the Sanctum loomed ahead like a monolith of mystery, Wanda knew she stood on the brink of something monumental. Something that would change not just her story but the course of the multiverse itself. The pendant around her neck pulsed faintly, as if responding to the presence of the place.

She took a deep breath.

Her destiny lay in the shadows of a mystery she couldn’t unravel, but the light? That was with her, in her arms, ready to be defended against all odds.

As she took the next step, there was no doubt in her mind. Whatever lay ahead, she would face it with the ferocity of someone who had seen the brilliance of something real—and would not allow it to be extinguished.

"Shine." That word echoed in her mind, a silent command and a promise. Because even in the deepest darkness, a sun never surrenders.

~*~

So?

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

[claramelooo]

blessed be this fandom

Agathario AU: Nicky goes away to summer camp for the first time, and Agatha tries to cope.

[claramelooo]

I love that the fandom always finds something new about them hahahah

The middle and ring finger together…how many times do you wanna bet that Agatha fucked Rio’s mouth with those specific fingers while railing her

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Hey, babies! It took me a while, but I'm here to brighten up your nights. It's been a long day, I hope you enjoy it.

Half of this chapter is just dirt, the other half is… find out ahahahah

Pairing: Dark!Witch Wanda x Fem Reader

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warnings: +18, smut, degradation, spit

Summary: A passage of time brings a person from the past back into your life

Hey, Now I've masterlist

UNKNOW

The following months passed like a blur of intensity and desire. Your graduation was only weeks away, and the weight of expectations and preparation was nothing compared to the uncontrollable energy that seemed to envelop you and Wanda. The secret you shared was both exhilarating and suffocating, a flame threatening to spiral out of control at any moment.

The hallway was silent, the lights dim, and the atmosphere tense, but none of that mattered when you saw Wanda approaching. The night was cold, but the heat between you made the air feel stifling, as if the world around you had disappeared. Her footsteps echoed in the corridor, but it was Wanda's gaze, the one that consumed you entirely, that made your heart race.

When she got close, time seemed to slow down. The soft smile on her face spoke volumes, more than words ever could, and without a single word, you moved closer, as if there were no other choice. Wanda’s hands gently reached for your neck, and you felt your body instinctively lean toward hers, as though an invisible force was pulling you closer.

The kiss was slow at first, exploratory, but quickly turned urgent, as though the need to touch and connect was stronger than anything else. The heat between you was almost unbearable, and you felt the pressure of wanting more, of not wanting to stop. Wanda's mouth moved down to your neck, kissing with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

When she pulled back slightly, her eyes were filled with desire, and you heard her soft whisper in your ear. “Come to my place tonight?” Her words carried a mix of seduction and expectation.

You sighed, still feeling her lips on your skin. “I can’t. It’s the last week of exams, and I have a very demanding and strict professor. I could hate her for it, but she’s lucky she kisses so well,” you said, a playful smile gracing your lips.

Wanda let out a warm laugh, and the sound made your heart race. Her smile was genuine, enchanting, and you couldn’t help but return it. “You know I’m only tougher on you because I see your potential, don’t you, my sweet?” she said, looking at you with overwhelming passion, her gaze setting everything inside you ablaze.

“As for exams, I could give you a private lesson later.” The way she said it, with that seductive tone, made the tension between you spike even higher. Wanda seemed determined to make you cave, and you knew the game was only just beginning.

Her mouth found your neck again, and this time the sensation was even more intense. Gentle kisses, but with a silent urgency. You faltered, feeling your body surrender to the heat and desire.

“Trying to corrupt me, Professor Maximoff?” you murmured, your voice faltering as the pressure in your chest grew. But in that moment, there was no resistance left.

Wanda paused for a moment, looking at you with a mischievous smile on her lips. “If I’m corrupting you, you’re going to love every second of it,” she whispered before claiming your lips again in a kiss that burned like fire.

You met in secret corners whenever you could, as if the universe conspired to bring your bodies together in moments that were never convenient but always felt essential.

The twins had grown used to your presence, in a way that made it seem like you’d always been part of their lives. Mornings at Wanda’s house were filled with lively voices, laughter, and the sound of hurried footsteps in the hallway. The routine was comfortable, and your inclusion in it had been so organic that even Wanda hadn’t realized how essential you had become.

“Is Y/n coming over today?” Tommy asked casually, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth as he flipped through a comic book. His tone was nonchalant, but there was a clear note of expectation in his question.

Wanda, attempting to maintain her composure while buttering toast, raised an eyebrow. “Maybe,” she replied, trying to sound indifferent, but the small smile threatening to surface betrayed her.

“I hope so!” Billy exclaimed, pushing his chair back with enthusiasm. “She always plays video games with me, and honestly, she’s way better than you, Mom.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide the amused sparkle in them. “That’s because I let you win,” she retorted with mock indignation.

“Sure,” Tommy drawled, stretching the word with teenage sarcasm. He laughed and added, as though it were a fact, “Besides, she makes better pancakes than you too.”

“Better pancakes?!” Wanda stopped what she was doing, looking at him with a theatrically offended expression. “I’m your mother, you know? I could very well turn your pancakes into broccoli.”

Billy and Tommy exchanged knowing looks and laughed, clearly unimpressed by the threat. “You’d never do that, Mom,” Tommy said confidently. “And you like Y/n as much as we do.”

Wanda’s laugh was soft but filled with affection. She knew the boys were right, and seeing the bond they had formed with you warmed her heart in a way she hadn’t expected. Your presence brought something to the house she hadn’t realized was missing: a lightness, an almost childlike joy she hadn’t felt in years.

When you arrived that afternoon, the door opened before you could even knock, with Tommy shouting down the hallway, “She’s here! Mom, Y/n’s here!”

Billy appeared right behind him, holding two video game controllers. “Quick, Y/n, you’re my partner today. Mom’s terrible at this game.”

You laughed, slipping off your shoes at the entrance before being practically dragged to the living room. Wanda watched from the kitchen doorway, a small but genuine smile on her lips. You glanced at her, exchanging a look that spoke volumes without saying a word.

The twins didn’t just accept your presence—they embraced it as essential. For Wanda, seeing how you fit into their lives was both frightening and comforting. Because deep down, she knew you weren’t just a visitor—you were already a cornerstone of the family she hadn’t realized she was rebuilding.

The kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of spices and something baking in the oven. Wanda stood with her back to you, her auburn hair neatly draped over her shoulders as she stirred something in a pan. The sight was captivating—her figure bathed in the warm kitchen light, an apron loosely tied around her waist, her movements precise yet carrying that natural touch of chaos that seemed uniquely hers.

You approached from behind, making no sound, until you were close enough to feel the warmth of her body mingling with the heat of the stove. “What’s for dinner, Mommy?” You mimicked the casual tone that Tommy and Billy often used, but your voice carried an undertone that shifted the meaning entirely. The playful twist of that last word made Wanda’s fingers pause for a brief moment as she stirred the pan.

She partially turned toward you, raising an eyebrow as a slow smile spread across her lips. Her gaze lingered on you, trailing over every detail with a mix of amusement and something far deeper. “Careful with that tone, my sweet,” she replied, her voice soft yet laced with an edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence with every line of your expression. “What? I was just asking, Mommy,” you repeated, your mischievous smile challenging any hint of seriousness.

Wanda chuckled softly, shaking her head as she returned her attention to the pan. But you noticed the slight tremor in her shoulders, like she was suppressing either a laugh or something far more intense. “Be a good girl and grab the salt for me,” she said, her tone light, but the glance she cast over her shoulder held a spark that made you pause for a heartbeat.

You complied, but not before letting your hands graze over the fabric of her apron in a slow, deliberate touch, pretending it was an innocent move to reach the cupboard. “Here you go, Mommy,” you handed her the salt with a playful grin, your voice carrying a warmth that neither of you could pretend to ignore.

Wanda took the salt, but instead of turning back to the stove, she faced you fully. Her eyes locked onto yours, and the intensity of her gaze made your pulse quicken. She laughed softly, tilting her head slightly as if studying you. “Are you sure you want to play this game with me, darling?” she whispered, her voice dripping with both amusement and warning, the challenge unmistakable.

You leaned in just a little closer, your smile sweet but laced with deliberate provocation. “I never start something I’m not willing to finish.”

Without a word, Wanda reached for you, her hands sliding around your waist with a possessiveness that sent a thrill through your entire body. “Then you’d better be ready for what comes next,” she murmured, her lips ghosting over yours.

The kiss that followed was anything but controlled. Your hands tangled in her auburn hair, pulling her closer with a hunger you couldn’t disguise. Wanda responded with a low, needy sound that reverberated through you, making your heart pound harder. Her lips moved against yours in a way that demanded everything—every breath, every thought, every piece of you.

Her hands gripped your waist, firm and commanding, as though marking her claim. The contrast between the softness of her touch and the desperate way she held you was intoxicating. Each kiss was a battle—tongues teasing, lips colliding with fervor, both of you pushing and pulling, testing limits and breaking down any pretense of restraint.

Your lungs burned from the lack of air, but neither of you cared. The desire between you was raw, unrelenting, a force neither of you could tame. Wanda pushed you gently against the counter, her body pressed tightly against yours, every curve and heartbeat aligned as if the universe itself demanded it.

“Wanda…” you tried to murmur, your voice breathless, but she deepened the kiss, nibbling on your bottom lip before whispering against your mouth.

“Don’t ask me to stop,” she said, her voice rough, husky, and laced with an almost primal urgency.

Your response was immediate—your fingers tightening in her hair, pulling just hard enough to draw a ragged sound from her lips. That sound, desperate and needy, made your entire body ignite. The control she usually exuded was slipping through her fingers, and knowing you were the cause of her unraveling was exhilarating.

“Wanda…” you tried again, your voice barely a whisper, breathless. “The dinner… it’s going to burn.”

“Let it burn,” she replied, a playful yet heated grin tugging at her lips. But then, as if a thought struck her, she pulled back slightly, her eyes still locked on yours, filled with unspoken promises and desires she wasn’t ready to let go of just yet.

“This is about patience, little one,” she teased, adjusting her tousled hair as she turned her attention back to the stove. The triumphant smirk on her face told you she knew exactly what she was doing to you. But you knew just as well—this wasn’t over. Not between the two of you.

As you watched her from behind, stirring the pan as though nothing had happened, you realized with a startling clarity that you were hopelessly, utterly in love. Every gesture, every glance, every playful laugh of hers seemed to take root in your very soul, grounding you in a way nothing else could. Wanda had become your gravity, the very center of your universe.

“Later,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, but the weight of her words settled between you like a promise. She glanced over her shoulder with a playful glint in her eyes. “After the boys are in bed. I’ll be waiting for you.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. With Wanda, words were never enough to capture the depth of what you felt.

The moment was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Billy, who leaned casually against the doorway, his expression caught between suspicion and amusement. “You guys sure you don’t need any help with… whatever that was?” His voice held a note of teenage skepticism, his sharp gaze flitting between you and Wanda.

Without missing a beat, Wanda smoothed her hair with a quick gesture and offered a smile that was almost too convincing. “No, sweetheart, everything’s under control,” she said, her voice light and motherly, though you could hear the underlying mischief she worked so hard to mask.

Billy shrugged, his suspicion still lingering as he made his way back to the living room. But not before casting one last wary glance in your direction.

Once he was out of sight, you leaned in closer to Wanda, unable to contain your laughter. “That was close,” you whispered, your amusement clear. But the sly grin she shot your way as she stirred the pot told you that, for Wanda, the thrill of almost getting caught only made things more fun.

The kitchen was bathed in a soft, golden light, the scent of dinner filling the air. From the living room, you could hear the faint sound of Billy and Tommy talking, the clink of dishes still scattered across the table from the meal. It was a peaceful domestic scene, but the weight of something unspoken hung between you all.

Billy was the first to break the silence. His head bowed, fingers toying with a throw pillow on his lap, he finally spoke. “I know it’s better this way, you know? The divorce… it was for the best. But it’s still hard to accept.”

Tommy, sitting beside him with his arms crossed, glanced at you with an expression that seemed to seek answers. “It’s weird. We knew they weren’t happy for a long time. But now that it’s over… it feels more real. More empty.”

You took a deep breath, leaning forward to make sure your voice stayed calm and reassuring. “I know it’s not easy, boys,” you began, your gaze soft and steady. “It’s normal to feel this way. You lost something that was part of your life for so long. But sometimes… letting go is the only way to make room for something better.”

Billy looked up at you, his brown eyes reflecting a vulnerability he usually kept hidden. "Do you think it was the best thing for Mom?"

You smiled gently, thinking about how radiant Wanda had seemed lately, despite everything. She was lighter, more present, and her eyes sparkled in a way that felt almost magical. "I think your mom is finding her path," you replied. "And I think she's happier now. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t miss what was, but... sometimes doing something for herself is the best thing she can do for you, too."

Tommy scoffed, but he didn’t seem annoyed. "She’s been smiling more. Even singing while she cooks. That never used to happen."

Billy nodded, and a small smile began to appear on his face. "She does seem less tired. Like, stronger somehow."

"That’s because she has you," you said, looking at both of them. "You’re what keeps her strong, always have been. But also... she’s letting herself be happy again, and that’s important."

Tommy narrowed his eyes at you, analyzing your every word. "And you have something to do with that, don’t you? We notice. You make her smile like that—like, goofy."

You tried not to laugh, but his comment caught you off guard. "I just want her to be happy, just like you do."

Billy tilted his head thoughtfully, a small smile forming on his lips. "I think that’s what matters then. If she’s happy, and you make her happy... I think we can get used to that."

You froze for a moment, Billy’s words echoing in your mind. He’d said it so naturally, almost casually, but there was something in his tone, something in the way he looked at you, that made your heart race. Had he figured it out? Were you and Wanda being too obvious?

"I... I just want the best for her," you responded, your voice slightly lower as you tried to maintain your composure. Your smile was calm, but inside, tension built.

Billy didn’t seem entirely convinced. He shrugged, but the small smile on his lips betrayed that he knew more than he was letting on. "We know," he said, but the glance he exchanged with Tommy said otherwise. Tommy raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, simply heading toward the kitchen as if the exchange had been insignificant.

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm as the boys disappeared into the other room. It was impossible not to wonder: how much did they know? Or worse, how much could others notice? You and Wanda had been careful, but the glances, the discreet touches, and the stolen moments might be starting to spill beyond the four walls you believed to be safe.

When you entered the kitchen, Wanda was plating small portions of dessert. Her hair was still tousled, and the smile she gave you was enough to calm the turmoil in your mind—if only for a brief moment.

"Everything okay?" she asked, noticing something in your expression.

"Yeah, of course," you replied, picking up a plate and trying to appear casual. But as the boys began devouring their desserts, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the façade was starting to crack.

Had Billy noticed? And if he had, how long would it be before others did too?

Before you could dwell on it, Wanda’s voice cut through your thoughts. "Dessert’s ready! Hope you still have room."

The twins quickly got up, the heavy conversation seeming to dissolve with the promise of something sweet. As they headed toward the kitchen, you lingered on the couch for a moment, feeling a warm comfort in your chest. They were still adjusting, but deep down, you knew they were beginning to accept, little by little, this new chapter in their lives—and in yours, too.

The living room was lit only by the soft glow of a lamp, creating an intimate atmosphere as rain began to lightly tap against the windows. You were on the couch with Wanda, a glass of wine in hand, feeling the warmth of the alcohol begin to rise, heating more than just your body. She was beside you, her hair still messy from the day, her eyes gleaming in a way you knew wasn’t just from the wine.

Your conversation flowed easily, as it always did, but there was something in the air—something more intense. Every word seemed to carry an added weight, a current of energy connecting you invisibly.

"You know," Wanda began, looking at her glass, though the soft smile on her lips was impossible to ignore. "The boys adore you. They’re always asking about you. I think, if they could, they’d keep you here forever."

"Yeah?" you replied, trying to sound casual, though her tone made your heart race. "And what about you? Would you keep me here forever, too?"

Wanda laughed, a soft, enchanting sound that made you smile automatically. "You already know the answer to that," she murmured, finally lifting her eyes to meet yours.

The intensity in her gaze made you forget the world for a moment. Or maybe it was the wine, but you knew you had to say what had been stuck in your throat for so long. Placing your glass on the coffee table, you turned fully to her, feeling your face heat up.

"Wanda..." you began, your voice a little lower but filled with sincerity. She tilted her head, curious, and that small, intimate gesture nearly disarmed you. "I... I’m completely in love with you. I can’t stop thinking about you, and every time I’m here, it feels like the whole world makes sense."

Her eyes sparkled, and she placed her glass next to yours. Without saying anything, she leaned in, one of her hands finding its way to your face, her warm fingers gently stroking your skin.

"You know I feel the same way, don’t you?" she said, her voice low, almost a whisper, as her face was so close you could smell the sweet scent of the wine she’d been drinking.

"But I needed to say it," you murmured, your voice almost failing as she leaned even closer. "I needed you to know how much you mean to me... And that you’d keep me here forever. You’re so possessive, aren’t you?" you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Wanda narrowed her eyes, a dangerous smile forming on her lips. "Possessive?" she repeated, her voice soft but laced with a tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Don’t look at me like that. You know you are," you continued, the playful smile growing. "I see the way you look at me, like I’m something that only belongs to you."

She tilted her head, her fingers gliding across your cheek with a tenderness that completely contrasted the intensity in her eyes. "And aren’t you?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but Wanda was quicker. She grasped your chin firmly, tilting your head slightly back, forcing you to hold her gaze. "If you think you can play games with me, my cheeky girl, you’re very mistaken."

"Oh, really?" you replied, trying to keep the defiant tone, but your voice faltered under her sharp gaze.

"Yes," she murmured, leaning in until your lips almost touched. "Because I don’t just want you forever... I’ll keep you forever. And no matter how much you tease, in the end, you always come back to me. Isn’t that right?"

You tried to respond, but the words disappeared as her fingers slid into your hair, tugging slightly as she brushed her lips against yours, never fully kissing them.

"See?" she continued, her voice a husky whisper. "Even now, you can’t resist. You’re trembling for me. That’s how I like you: vulnerable and completely mine."

The defiant smile you tried to maintain was quickly crumbling, but still, you whispered, "Who said I’m trembling for you?"

Wanda let out a low, provocative laugh. "Oh, darling," she murmured, her fingers still in your hair as she finally pressed her lips to yours, the kiss intense and possessive, as if she were proving a point.

When you pulled apart, both of you were breathless, and she smiled triumphantly. "Still want to play hard to get, or shall we show the world the permanent marks I’ve left on you?"

You looked theatrically at your own body, feigning innocence. "Permanent marks? I don’t see any."

Your heart pounded fiercely, and you knew there was no denying it. Not after this. Not with Wanda looking at you as if you were the center of her universe.

The kiss had turned into something far more intense. Wanda’s lips moved against yours with a hunger that seemed to grow with every second, as if the entire world could vanish, and the two of you would still be there, utterly consumed by each other.

Your hands found their way back into her red hair, tangling your fingers through the silky strands, pulling just enough to elicit a low, needy sound from Wanda’s throat. That sound only fueled the fire already burning inside you. Her hands gripped your waist, firm and possessive, her touch sending a shiver through your skin, as if she was carving her claim into you.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. A thin strand of saliva still connected your lips, glistening under the soft light of the room. Wanda’s eyes — green and deep — were blown wide with desire and something more profound, a look so intense it sent chills down your spine.

She leaned in, her mouth brushing against your ear, and in a voice husky and loaded with intent, she whispered through clenched teeth:

"Bedroom. Now."

Your heart raced at her command, sweeter and more irresistible than any promise. Without a second thought, you stood up, your hand entwined with hers as you led her down the dark hallway, the hurried sound of footsteps echoing on the wooden floor.

The world outside seemed to vanish. Only the anticipation and the heat between you remained real.

Wanda pushed you against the bedroom door before you could even fully reach it. The soft thud reverberated through the room, and the cold wood against your back contrasted sharply with the feverish warmth radiating from her. Your breathing was uneven, but so was hers. Wanda’s gaze burned — predatory, filled with promises — as if nothing could stop her now that she had decided you were hers.

"You’re such a naughty little girl…" Her voice, low and laced with her accent, slid over you like velvet. "Always thinking you can get away with it, don’t you?"

"I didn’t…" you started, trying to regain some control of the situation, but Wanda was already on you, pressing a finger to your lips to silence you.

"Shh…" she whispered, her eyes blazing with intensity. "I see you. All this bravado… this courage to challenge me." She smiled slowly, dangerously. "But I’m going to teach you something, dorogaya. I’m the one in charge here."

Before you could respond, Wanda captured your mouth again, the kiss now fierce, almost brutal. Her teeth grazed your bottom lip, biting softly, and you gasped against her. Your hands reached out, seeking to reclaim some control, sliding to her shoulders, but Wanda only chuckled against your lips.

"Oh… trying to fight back? How cute." She tugged on your hair a little harder, tilting your head back to expose your neck. Her lips traveled downward, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses along your skin. "But that won’t work. You know that, don’t you?"

"Maybe I like to fight," you whispered, though your voice was already trembling, nearly pleading.

Wanda raised her head, locking eyes with you, a gleam of dark amusement and challenge in her expression. "Oh. Do you, now? Let’s see how long you can last, little warrior."

With a swift movement, Wanda grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, holding your wrists with a controlled yet firm grip. The weight of the gesture sent your pulse racing, and you struggled, but it was futile. She had total control.

"You have no idea what you’ve awakened, Y/n," Wanda murmured, her voice deep and dripping with desire. "I’ve waited for this. Waited for you for so long. And now that I have you… there’s no turning back."

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing your ear again. "You will surrender, my clever little slut. You’ll beg. I want to hear you say… that you belong to me."

Your entire body trembled, a mix of nervous anticipation and pure, unrelenting need. "I…"

"I love how, the more you try to resist, the more your body betrays you," Wanda said with a soft laugh, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Look at you, already shaking for me. Your mouth says one thing… but your body? It’s already answering me."

She released one of your hands, only to let her palm slide slowly down your body, exploring every curve. Her fingers stopped at your waist, squeezing possessively, making you gasp once again.

"Every sound you make, every shiver… it’s mine," Wanda whispered. "You’re my precious little doll. My masterpiece. And I’m going to shape you exactly how I want."

You tried to hold on to your defiant stance, but as Wanda’s hand traveled further down, stopping at your thigh and creeping upward, a needy moan escaped your lips.

"Ah, there it is…" Wanda smiled, satisfied. "That’s the truth, isn’t it? You like this. You want to be guided. To be dominated."

She brought her mouth back to yours, kissing you slower this time, but with an intensity that conveyed everything she wanted without needing words.

"Now," Wanda said, her eyes gleaming with a subtle red glow, her tone firm and irresistible. "Be a good girl and lie down on the bed."

Your body obeyed before your mind could protest. Something in her tone, in the natural authority Wanda exuded, made any remaining resistance evaporate.

As you settled on the bed, Wanda stood at the edge, watching you as if she were about to devour you. Slowly, she removed her coat, letting it fall to the floor, revealing her bare shoulders and the plunging neckline of her dress. Then, she crawled onto the bed, moving toward you with predatory grace.

"Do you want me to be gentle?" she asked, her voice sweet but laced with malice. "Or would you rather find out what happens when you try to challenge the only person who can make you truly scream?"

Before you could answer, Wanda captured your lips again, and the world around you vanished.

Her lips claimed yours with renewed intensity, each kiss a reminder that you were entirely at her mercy. When you instinctively tried to move, to regain some semblance of control, Wanda grabbed your wrists again, pinning them to the bed with both hands this time.

"You said you like to fight," she murmured, her dangerous whisper brushing against your mouth, "but let’s be honest… you like losing even more."

Your body arched against her in response, every nerve on high alert. You wanted to deny it, to say you still had control, but the truth was undeniable: Wanda had already won.

She traced her hands slowly down your arms to your shoulders, her fingers leaving a burning path of fire wherever they touched. "Every time you try to resist, it only makes me want to break you more," Wanda whispered, her gaze never wavering from yours. "You know that, don't you? That I will get what I want."

"You're so arrogant," you said, trying to keep your voice steady and teasing, but it came out softer than you'd intended.

Her dangerous smile deepened. "And you're so stubborn… But look at you. Already panting. Already begging with your body, even if your mouth refuses to admit it."

Her hands slid down to your waist again, pulling you closer with a possessive grip that made your skin tingle. "Do you know what I love most about you, Y/n? That rebellious streak of yours. That little brat who thinks she can challenge me. But do you know what I love even more?"

She leaned in until her lips were a mere breath away from your ear. "The moment you break."

Your heart raced, and you bit your lip to hold back the moan threatening to escape. But Wanda noticed. Of course she did.

"Oh… you're such a clever little slut, aren't you?" she teased, her fingers drifting dangerously close to the hem of your clothes. "But that won't last, my dear. I'll make you beg. Stuff you so full you’ll turn into my dumb little whore. And I’ll love every second of it."

You tried to squirm away, to move your arms and legs in resistance. But Wanda only laughed, the sound reverberating against your skin. "No. You're going to stay exactly where I want you. Do you know why?"

She lifted her head just enough to look directly into your eyes. The intensity of her gaze burned through you, making your whole body tremble.

"Because you’re mine," Wanda declared, her voice firm, unquestionable. "My little doll. My toy. My masterpiece."

She grasped your chin, pulling your face toward hers, capturing your lips in a kiss that left no room for resistance. Wanda wasn’t asking. She was taking.

When she finally pulled back, a satisfied smirk played on her lips. "Ah, look at you… so beautiful when you’re vulnerable." Her thumb ran over your bottom lip, pressing lightly. "So ready to be molded."

She shifted just enough to straddle you, pinning your legs beneath her weight. "Now, Y/n… tell me. Who’s in charge here?"

You tried to hold on to the last shred of control you thought you had. But Wanda’s gaze burned into you, melting any defenses you still clung to.

She tilted her head slightly, her smirk darkening. "Say it," she commanded, her voice low, dangerous. "Or I’ll make you say it."

"You…" Your voice faltered, trembling. Your pride crumbled beneath her dominance. "You’re in charge."

Wanda’s smile widened, her eyes flashing red for a brief moment. "Good girl." Her fingers traced your cheek as if admiring a work of art. "Now, be a good girl and spread your legs for me."

Your body obeyed before your mind could process the command. Wanda’s hands trailed down your body, her fingers exploring your skin with a precision that was almost torturous.

"I’m going to make sure you remember this," she whispered. "I’m going to mark you in a way no one else ever can erase. Because you belong to me, and I belong to you. Now and always."

When her touch finally reached where you needed her most, your whole body ignited, and any lingering resistance was consumed by the burning desire only Wanda could provoke.

"Good girl," Wanda whispered again, her lips brushing your ear as her fingers traced slow, teasing circles on your aching core.

The atmosphere between you shifted the moment you shot her that defiant look. Something thick and electric brewed in the air, like a storm about to crash down on you.

"Always so full of attitude, aren’t you?" Wanda said, crossing her arms as she tilted her head slightly, her predatory gaze locked on you. "Should I remind you of your place, little doll?"

You couldn’t help the mischievous grin that tugged at your lips. "You can try…"

Oh, that was the breaking point. The familiar crimson glow flickered around Wanda’s eyes, and in an instant, she pounced. Before you could react, you were pressed into the bed, her hands firm on your shoulders.

"Ah… my little rebel," Wanda murmured, her voice low and dripping with desire and control. "Do you really think you can play with me and walk away unscathed?"

The blush on your face deepened as you tried to keep up your rebellious front, but the way her hands gripped you, the sheer authority radiating from her, made your legs feel weak.

"You said you like to fight," she continued, her fingers trailing slowly over your face, "but I think what you like even more is being reminded of your place."

Your breath hitched. You knew you should resist, keep teasing her, but the weight of Wanda’s dominance over you was overwhelming. Your thoughts began to blur, dissolving into pure need.

"You should be a good little pet for me," Wanda whispered, her fingers sliding torturously slow over your body. "Submissive. Sweet. So obedient."

The sound of her voice — husky, commanding, dripping with promises — made your heart race. You opened your mouth to respond, but all that escaped was a trembling whimper.

"Oh… Please, please," you whimpered, barely recognizing your own voice, soft and yielding. "Show me my place. I’ll be so good for you, mommy…"

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, a deep instinct finally breaking free from within you.

Wanda chuckled, a low, satisfied sound. "Ah, there she is," she murmured, her eyes gleaming with delight. "My good little girl, ready to be taught."

With a firm motion, Wanda pulled you up and positioned you across her lap, sitting on the edge of the bed. She settled you over her thighs effortlessly, as if she’d already imagined this moment a thousand times before.

"Now," Wanda said, her hand gliding slowly down your back to your waist, "let’s get rid of these, shall we?"

With a decisive tug, she removed your pants, leaving your bare skin exposed to the cool air of the room. The contrast between her warmth and the room’s chill made you shiver slightly against her lap.

"Always so defiant," Wanda murmured, running her hand lightly over your skin, tracing the curve of your ass. "But I’ll mold you. I’ll break you down and build you back up, exactly the way I want."

Her hand came down with a sharp slap, the sting reverberating through your body. You gasped, your hips instinctively pressing back toward her touch.

"That’s right," Wanda said softly, her voice thick with approval. "Good girl. Let mommy take care of you."

She ran her hand gently over your exposed skin, a touch that was both comforting and threatening. “You know why I’m doing this, don’t you?” You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps.

“Because you need to be reminded…” Wanda gave your buttock a light slap, nothing more than a teasing touch. “Of your place.” She took the opportunity to slide her fingers through your wet folds, making you push against her. “Hmmm, eager…”

The first slap came for real. Not too hard, but firm enough to make your skin sting slightly. You let out a moan, surprised by the intensity.

“This is just the beginning,” Wanda said, her hand gently caressing the spot where she had hit. “Tell me, baby doll. How many do you deserve?”

“I… don’t… know,” you murmured, your voice shaking with anticipation.

“Oh, then I’ll decide,” Wanda stated, with a satisfied smile. “I like this better.”

Another slap. Then another. With each slap, the heat on your skin grew, and with it, the need growing inside you.

“You’re becoming so beautiful for me,” Wanda praised, her voice soft and mesmerizing. “Look how your skin is blushing. That’s how you should be—marked by me, remembering who you belong to.”

You writhed on her lap, each slap followed by a caress that made your body beg for more.

“Please…” you whispered, barely audible.

“Please what?” Wanda asked, her tone teasing, when she pronounces the t with rigidity. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to… be your good little girl.”

Wanda laughed again, pleased. “Oh, you’re learning fast. But we still have a long way to go, baby doll.”

She slapped again, harder this time, eliciting a loud moan from you. Her hand slowly slid down to your thighs, parting them slightly. “Now,” Wanda murmured, leaning down until her lips brushed your ear, “show me how good you can be for me.” Wanda caressed your buttocks gently, her fingers tracing delicate patterns on the already flushed skin, while you breathed heavily, trying to control the tremors that ran through your body.

She seemed to absorb your every reaction—every writhe, every sigh, every muffled moan. Her voice was low and gravelly, but her control was absolute.

“Beg,” Wanda said, her hand gliding lazily over your skin. “I want to hear you say you need this.” You swallowed hard, your heart beating so fast you could feel the blood pounding in your ears.

“Wanda, please—” A firm slap cut through the air before you could finish your sentence, tearing a desperate moan from your lips.

“No,” she corrected, her voice thick with authority. “Try again. And use that title I love so much. Come on, baby doll.” Your face burned with embarrassment and excitement. The words caught in your throat, but you knew she wouldn’t give in until she heard them.

“Please… Mommy,” you whispered, barely recognizing your own voice. “I need… I need you to teach me. I need to be your good girl.”

A satisfied smile played across Wanda’s lips. “Oh, that’s better.” She ran her fingers along your back, slowly rising to the base of your neck. “But you still sound shy. I want to hear you really beg.”

Another slap. Harder this time. Your skin was hot and sensitive, and the shock of the impact tore a sob of pleasure from your throat.

“Please, Mommy,” you moaned, your voice finally breaking under the weight of need. “Show me my place. Teach me. I want to be everything you want. Please do this to me.”

Wanda laughed softly, the sound rumbling like a caress along your spine. She loved watching you slowly break under the weight of your own submission, your resistance dissolving into pure surrender.

“Good little girl,” she murmured, her words a balm and a promise. “Now. Look how beautiful you are when you stop fighting and just accept who you are to me.”

Her hands moved again, one gripping your waist tightly while the other traced the contours of your buttocks, teasing the sensitive skin.

"Will you be my good girl?" Wanda asked, her voice low but relentless.

"Yes," you answered immediately, without thinking. "Yes, Mommy. Please. I'm yours."

"Mmm…" She seemed to savor your words, as if each syllable was a confirmation of her ownership over you. "Mine. Only mine. I'm going to sculpt you exactly how I want. Every sound you make, every mark on your skin… all of it belongs to me now."

Another slap, slower, almost gentle, but still firm enough to send a shiver through your body.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Wanda teased, her hand moving down to your thighs, parting them slowly. "You're so wet for me. So eager to please."

You moaned in response, unable to form coherent words.

"I want to hear it," she insisted, her voice an irresistible command.

"Tell me you're my good little girl."

"I am," you gasped, your entire body shaking with need. "I'm your good little girl, Mommy. Please, please… Touch me. Teach me. Do whatever you want with me."

Wanda ran her fingers over your warm skin, the tips touching where you wanted them most, but not giving you the relief your body begged for.

"You're so desperate," she murmured, her lips brushing your ear as her voice dropped to a seductive whisper. "Desperate to be guided. Desperate to be possessed."

You nodded frantically, your face buried against her thighs. "Yes, please… I need you."

Wanda laughed again, satisfied. "Oh, I know you do, baby doll. And I'll give you everything you want. But only when I decide you deserve it."

Her promise was as much torture as it was a gift, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that you were exactly where you were supposed to be: at her feet, vulnerable and surrendered.

“Thank you for this.” Wanda demands, thrusting her fingers inside you, making you exasperated. In that moment, you really want to thank her like never before.

“Fuck. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Mommy. I’m so grateful— OH FUCK,” you groan in pleasure, and hear Wanda hum in approval.

“There’s my girl,” she says, and thrusts deeper inside you.

You moan, drawn out and needy for the woman who expresses pain on her face. Wanda feels a pressure between her legs that she knows exactly what it is and how to stop.

The woman pulls out of you, making you protest. “Mommy prepared something special today. For you. For us.”

The feeling of being submissive to Wanda was too intense to be understood in words. When she pulled away for a moment, you felt the emptiness left by the heat of her body, a loss that made your chest tighten immediately.But when you tried to lift your face to see her, everything around you dissolved into darkness.

It was as if her own magic had wrapped your eyes in an invisible blindfold—there was nothing you could see except the pulsing darkness, as if it were a reminder of her presence, even though she wasn’t touching you.

Your heart raced. The absence of vision made every other sense amplify. The sound of Wanda’s soft footsteps, the brush of her breath against your skin, even her subtle scent—something that mingled woodsmoke and wildflowers—felt so much more intense.

When you tried to move, you found you couldn’t. Your wrists and ankles were bound by something invisible, as if magical roots had wrapped themselves around your limbs, keeping you immobile, completely vulnerable and at her mercy. The shiver that ran down your spine was so strong that you shivered.

“What… did you do… to me?” you managed to mutter, but even forming the words felt like too much. Your mouth was dry, your voice a broken whisper.

Across the room, Wanda laughed softly—that soft, dangerous sound that made your skin crawl and your stomach churn with anticipation.

“I put you exactly where you were supposed to be,” she replied, her voice a whisper filled with power. “Blinded. Trapped. Completely mine.”

Your breathing came faster, almost panting. Her every word seemed to carry weight and intent, as if she were branding you deeply, from the inside out. You tried to move again, but each attempt was futile—you were perfectly trapped, vulnerable in a way you had never been before.

Wanda moved closer, and you felt her fingertips glide across your skin. It was a light touch, almost tender, but it left a trail of heat in its wake. She started on your face, tracing the contours of your jaw, until she reached your neck.

“You’re not scared,” Wanda murmured, a hint of surprise in her voice, but there was a hidden satisfaction there. “You should be shaking. But you’re not, are you?”

You shook your head slowly, your mouth half open as you tried to breathe. “No… I’m not.”

“And why?” Wanda asked, her fingertips now moving to your shoulder, then down your exposed back.

“Because…” You swallowed hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts. But there was only one truth. “Because I trust you.”

The words hung in the air like a sacred confession. Wanda was silent for a moment, before she laughed softly again.

“Good girl,” she murmured. “But don’t think that will save you, because trust doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.”

You felt the tips of her nails press lightly into your skin, just enough to leave a mark.

“It means you’ve given yourself away. And now…” Wanda paused for a moment, her fingers slowly running down your waist, down to where your buttocks were still exposed. “Now you’re going to feel exactly what it means to be mine.”

Your entire body trembled beneath her touch, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips.

She leaned in again, and the touch of her lips against your ear made you shiver. “You begged me to show you your place,” Wanda continued, her voice a low purr. “Now, baby doll… I’m going to teach you. And you’re going to appreciate every second of it.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a breathless moan as you felt her hands explore your body again, this time without any restraint or hesitation. Wanda was in absolute control, and you knew you were about to be pushed to a limit you didn't even know existed.

And you wanted this.

You needed this.

You needed her.

While the woman was away, you could hear the sound of latex sliding over her skin. The strap-on Wanda was wearing wasn't as big as she wanted—but she was thinking about you. It must be pleasurable for both you and her. She wants to break you in little by little, wants to see how far you can take her cock.

Wanda's warm hand and black-stained fingers wrap around the base of the strap-on, connecting it directly to her clit. She lets out a needy sigh, walking back to the bed.

You feel the woman's knees sink into the mattress beside you, each movement calculated, a silent dance that makes the air around you feel thick and charged. The weight of anticipation was piling on your shoulders, making your heart hammer in your chest. Not knowing what would happen next should have been terrifying… but it wasn’t.

It was intoxicating. The uncertainty left you on fire, the unknown awakening something you hadn’t known existed. The lack of control over your own body, over your desires, was something you had never imagined you could desire until now—and yet, here you were, yearning for more.

Then Wanda’s nose lightly brushed the curve of your neck, inhaling deeply of your essence. The warm air that escaped her lips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re delicious,” she murmured, almost like a secret. The tone of her voice, low and gravelly, seemed to slide through you like an electric current. “So soft…” Her mouth found your cheek in a slow, wet kiss that left a trail of heat and a shiver of anticipation. It wasn’t just a touch—it was a declaration. A claim.

“Speak any word to me, pretty girl,” Wanda whispered against your skin. It was a command, but there was a dark sweetness in her tone, as if she were guiding you, encouraging you to surrender. Your throat was dry, and when you finally found your voice, it came out hoarse, as if it had been scratched by the intensity of the moment.

“Crimson,” you whispered, almost breathless. The word came naturally, as if it were the only possible choice. Crimson, because everything around you seemed to be wrapped in red—the deep tone of Wanda’s magic, the heat that spread through you, the desire that burned in your veins.

The scent of sandalwood hung in the air, a constant reminder of her presence, of the invisible force that held you captive. Crimson, because you were in a spiral where your deepest reverie had a name and a color.

Wanda was silent for a moment, letting the word hang between you. Then, a slow smile spread across her lips, and you could feel her chest vibrate slightly as she murmured,

"Mmmm… poetic."

She pressed her lips against your jaw, sliding her mouth to the corner of your lips, never completing the kiss, just teasing. “When you say that word, everything stops. Do you understand, my girl?”

You nodded, breathless, but Wanda wasn’t satisfied with that.

“I need to hear you,” she said firmly, her fingertips tracing a slow, deliberate path down your hip. “Tell me you understand. Tell me you’ll use it if you need to.”

“I understand, Mommy,” you replied, your voice almost a moan, full of anticipation.

“Good girl,” Wanda purred, satisfied.

You both moaned as Wanda rubbed the tip of the strap-on against your hot, needy clit. “It’s going to be glorious, baby. And I’m going to feel everything… every inch of you.” The sound she makes is like a small growl—pressing her cock to your entrance, making you gasp in surprise.

“Wanda… this is…” You can barely speak, not when she’s thrusting inside you—the slow, slow pace only makes you want more.

“This, my dear. This is magic.”

And when Wanda pushes it all inside you, you can see a pulsing vein in her neck. The woman lets out a shaky breath.

“Oh…” She exasperates. “It’s so warm in here, my dear. You’re holding Mommy so well…” She groans through her teeth, as if she’s trying hard to contain herself.

Wanda has always hated the word. Magic. Witch. Sorceress. Monster. Those labels carried centuries of fear and contempt, making her existence a constant curse. She’d spent so long hating this part of herself, trying to control what couldn’t be contained, trying to fit into molds that were never meant for her.

But now?

Now, with you beneath her—vulnerable, surrendered, completely at the mercy of her hands and her will—it all felt different. She wasn’t a freak. She wasn’t a walking curse. She wasn’t a monster.

She was divine.

Every touch her body absorbed as if Wanda were imprinting her essence on you. Every breath she took seemed to feed the magic within her, an unceasing current of power that pulsed in the air around her. The way you responded to her—moaning her name like a prayer, offering yourself without reservation—made Wanda feel that, for the first time, her magic wasn’t a weapon, but a gift.

Blessed.

That word went through her like a lightning bolt. Wanda felt blessed. Not by the magic itself, but by the way she was using it now—to claim you, to fill you until you leaked her juices inside you. Her mark was on you, invisible to the world, but burning beneath your skin. And it made all the hatred she had once carried disappear.

“How are you feeling, my little doll?” Her tone is reverent, almost as if you were precious enough to deserve to be Wanda’s obsession, but not enough to not be broken by her. Never for that matter. “What does it feel like to have Mommy’s cock in your pretty girl pussy?”

“Mommy, I—” Your voice cracked as you felt Wanda move inside you, hitting a spot that was previously unknown. “OH. Mommy! Do that again! Please, pretty please.” You heard yourself say in a ridiculously needy voice.

“I love it when my little girl begs. You look so pretty. Fuck!”Wanda moans, thrusting her hips further, almost fusing her skin with yours. “Open your mouth.”

And you do, of course you do. All your mind can think about is pleasing the woman above you—as if it were your life’s purpose. When Wanda sees you with your little mouth open, she can't resist slapping your cheek—naturally red, she grabs your chin and pulls it towards her, making you arch your back off the mattress.

She lets a thick string of her own saliva slip out of her mouth, making you receive it. "Swallow it."

And you do, nodding, like the good girl of Wanda that you are. "Thank you, mommy."

And that seems to be the end of something for the woman, who speeds up her thrusts, bringing a loud moan to your lips. "So polite. Mommy's little slut takes her cock like a pro, doesn't she? I'm going to cum so hard inside you. You want mommy to get you pregnant, huh? Want mommy to put her sperm in your little belly?" The movements were frantic and sloppy, Wanda was close.

“YES, YES, YES! Get me pregnant, Mommy! Fill your stupid bitch with your cum, Mommy!” You screamed with the intensity of what you felt, your voice interrupted by moans that seemed to come from a place so deep that not even you knew existed.

Your body arched involuntarily, every muscle tensed as Wanda explored every inch of you as if it were rightfully hers. Your eyes shed tears of pure pleasure, running silently down your hot cheeks. It wasn’t pain — it was surrender. It was the unbearable weight of vulnerability, of the raw need to be possessed by someone who knew exactly what to do with every inch of you.

“Mine…” She seemed to savor the word with devotion. And when Wanda began to massage your clit with her thumb, it was over. “Cum for Mommy. Smear my cock with your smart little slut juices, I want all of you.” You didn’t answer her with words. There was no room for coherent thoughts, only the raw, urgent need that took over every cell in your body. Instead, a loud moan escaped your lips—a hoarse sound, full of pleasure and submission.

Your legs trembled involuntarily around Wanda, as your body sought more contact, more proximity, more of her.

Your hips moved on their own, seeking the rhythm that Wanda dictated, as if your entire body had surrendered to the silent melody that only she played. Your fingers grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her hair tightly as your nails scratched the delicate skin. Wanda let out a low growl in response, a sound that made your belly tighten even more, desire pulsing in every exposed nerve.

Then, as if you could no longer bear the distance between you, you arched your back, bringing your bodies closer until there was no more space between you. With an urgent movement, you pressed your mouth to hers, muffling the moan that threatened to escape. It was an uncontrolled, desperate kiss, full of need and hunger. There was nothing soft or delicate about that moment. It was rough. Wild.

Wanda kissed you back with the same intensity, her teeth scraping against your lips as her firm hands slid down, holding your waist with possessive strength. You felt her fingers leave marks that would surely remain on your skin for days—a reminder that you belonged to her.

When you finally broke apart to breathe, Wanda looked at you as if she wanted to devour every part of you. Her eyes glowed with the red light of her magic, but there was something else there: obsession, adoration, and an insatiable desire.

Wanda smiled almost predatorily, her eyes half-closed as she traced every curve of your face, as if she were recording that moment in her memory.

“Ah, my little princess…” she murmured, her lips brushing your ear again. “I don’t intend to stop with you. I’ll never let you go.”

And with that, her hands moved again, and you knew you were about to be taken even deeper into that addictive spiral of pleasure and possession.

[...]

The prom night was filled with smiles and animated voices. You were surrounded by your friends, all laughing and toasting with cups of soda and glasses of faux champagne. It was the end of an era—years of studying finally behind you.

"And who would've thought we'd survive to this point?" Yelena joked, raising her glass in an exaggerated toast. "To those who said we wouldn't make it."

Kate raised hers too. "And especially to Y/N, who, besides being the nerd of the group, held our hands through the process."

"She didn’t just hold our hands; she carried us on her back," Darcy corrected, pulling you into a tight hug.

Bucky, always a bit more reserved, gave a soft smile. "Whatever you decide to do from now on, Y/N, it's going to be spectacular. You know that, right?"

You smiled at them, your heart warmed by their support. But even surrounded by your friends, your eyes searched for someone else. Across the room, near the drink table, Wanda stood casually leaning against it, a glass in her hand.

She looked calm, but you knew her well enough to read past that—her gaze was fixed on you, as if you were the only person in the room. Every detail of her expression was loaded with an intensity that made your skin tingle.

"Y/N?" Kate nudged your shoulder, pulling you out of your trance.

"Oh, sorry," you said, laughing, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Agatha appeared beside Wanda, observing the exchange with a smile only she could carry—mischievous and full of insinuations.

"You do realize you're giving it all away, don't you?" Agatha teased, casually picking up a glass of punch.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Wanda murmured, her eyes still locked on you. But her voice betrayed any attempt at denial; it was laden with emotion.

"Oh, please, dear." Agatha chuckled, swirling the glass theatrically. "You're practically shouting it for anyone who cares to notice. With that look? Even a blind person could tell you want to devour that girl."

Wanda rolled her eyes, a blush inevitably creeping up her cheeks, though she maintained her posture. "I'm just... observing."

"Sure, sure," Agatha retorted with a sly grin. "Observing from inches away, tracking her every move like a predator about to pounce. Is that 'just observing'? Because, to me, it looks like something else entirely..."

"Agatha," Wanda cut her off, a warning tone in her voice, though she couldn't completely hide the flicker of worry in her eyes.

"Fine, fine." Agatha raised her free hand in mock surrender, but the grin didn't fade. "You know me, I can't resist a good tease. But, on a different note, I saw what you sent me."

Wanda finally tore her gaze from you, turning to Agatha. Her tone grew more serious. "Did you manage to identify anything?"

Agatha took a sip of the punch, deliberately pausing before replying. "Not yet, but..." Her gaze shifted to you momentarily, studying with renewed interest. "The necklace belongs to her, doesn't it?" She tilted her head toward you.

"Yes." Wanda’s jaw tightened, her fingers gripping the wineglass. "How is that possible, Agatha? I've never seen that necklace before. Not in any of the lives I've shared with her. And that..." She paused, taking a deep breath. "That worries me."

Agatha narrowed her eyes, her expression turning serious for the first time. "You know what that means, don't you? If it's something even you don’t recognize, then it’s something... different. Perhaps something that doesn’t belong in your usual narrative."

"And that's exactly what scares me." Wanda's voice was low but firm, a dark determination threading her words. "The unknown can bring surprises. For ordinary people, maybe good ones. But for me? The unknown only brings risks. And I can't—won't—risk anything that involves her."

Agatha remained silent for a moment, studying Wanda carefully. Then she set her glass down on the nearby table and lightly touched Wanda's arm. "You'll figure it out. We will. But remember, Wanda: no matter how powerful you are, you can’t control everything. Not even when it comes to her."

"That’s not an option," Wanda replied, her eyes returning to you as if you were the only light in the darkness. "I need to protect her, Agatha. No matter what it takes."

"Be careful what you're willing to sacrifice," Agatha murmured, but her voice was drowned out by the laughter around you.

Wanda simply pressed her lips together, resuming her watchful gaze. The idea that something beyond her reach could affect you was intolerable. And if the necklace meant something greater, Wanda already knew: she would face whatever came. And she would win. Because losing you was not an option.

[...]

In a busy afternoon, boxes were scattered everywhere, and you barely had time to breathe as you tried to organize the chaos. Still, you couldn’t help but smile as you watched Wanda, who was clearly far more anxious than you.

She was everywhere at once—snapping her fingers discreetly to make boxes move on their own, floating small objects to their proper places, all with an energy that seemed ready to burst.

"Wanda," you called, trying to suppress a laugh as you watched her rearrange the same bookshelf for the third time. "You need to relax."

"I am relaxed," she replied hastily, adjusting a picture frame to the exact center of the nightstand.

"Of course, you are," you said, crossing your arms and watching as a lamp floated to the other side of the room.

She paused for a moment, hands on her hips, biting her lower lip as she looked around. Her gaze was pure nervousness, but there was something else—a glimmer of happiness that warmed the room.

"I just... want everything to be perfect," she admitted, her eyes finally meeting yours.

You approached her, holding her hands and pulling her gently closer. "It’s perfect because it’s with you. It doesn’t matter where we are, Wanda. As long as it’s with you, it’ll be enough."

Wanda sighed, relaxing a little, but the smile on her face still carried a touch of anxiety. "I just... thinking about you being here. Sleeping beside me every night. Here, with the boys, being a real part of my life..."

"Our life," you corrected softly, and she smiled more confidently.

Billy appeared at the bedroom door, giving you a cheerful grin. "You’ll make pancakes with smiley faces tomorrow, right? Because, you know, Mom tries, but... it’s not the same."

Wanda feigned indignation, but the joy in her eyes was undeniable.

"I think I can manage that," you replied, laughing.

When Billy disappeared, Wanda looked at you with a small but deeply emotional smile. "They love you, you know that, right?"

You nodded, pulling her into a hug. "And I love them. And I love you."

She held you tightly, her anxiety gradually melting into something calmer, more stable. You could feel her heartbeat against yours, and for a moment, everything in the world felt exactly as it should be.

After hours of unpacking boxes, you collapsed onto the couch, exhausted but restless. Something was missing—something important.

"I can’t find my necklace," you murmured, breaking the silence.

Wanda, who was finishing putting away kitchen utensils, looked at you. The tone in your voice immediately caught her attention. "The necklace? The one with the sun pendant?"

You nodded, running a hand over your bare neck. "Yes. Have you seen it? I’ve searched all the boxes and bags, but it’s... gone."

Wanda froze for a moment before disappearing from the room. When she returned, she was holding the necklace, the pendant softly glowing under the light.

“My sorceress-hero. My ‘sorhero!,’” you exclaimed with relief, running to wrap her in a tight embrace. Her touch was comforting, and for a brief moment, the world seemed right again.

Wanda, however, held the object a little more firmly than usual. She felt the strange magic emanating from the pendant—a signature she didn’t recognize, yet it pulsed unsettlingly. She knew she shouldn’t hand it over so quickly, but she also knew she needed to hear its story.

Reluctantly, she let you take it, watching closely as you held the necklace against your chest as if it were sacred.

“It’s a beautiful necklace,” Wanda remarked, studying your expression. “Is there a special story behind it?”

Your smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a shadow of sadness. You took a deep breath, holding the pendant delicately. “I… lost my parents when I was four,” you began, your voice low but steady. “It was a fire. Everything was gone that night... everything. I barely remember them, just flashes and the feeling of heat and smoke. The only thing that survived was this necklace.”

Wanda frowned slightly, absorbing your words. “And you don’t know how you survived the fire?”

You shook your head. “I have no idea. The firefighters said it was a miracle I made it because by the time they arrived, the house was nearly ashes. But… here I am. I like to think it’s some kind of charm. Something that carries a piece of my parents with me.”

Wanda nodded slowly, but the unease in her chest grew. The necklace wasn’t just a sentimental artifact—she was sure of that. She knew enough about magic to recognize when something was extraordinary, and that pendant radiated a peculiar energy, both protective and ominous.

“It’s a beautiful and tragic story,” Wanda said softly, trying to mask her concern. “But I understand why it’s so important to you.”

You smiled faintly, putting the necklace back around your neck. “Now that I have it with me, I feel like I can breathe again.”

Wanda held your hand for a moment, her touch firm but comforting. “And it always will be. I promise.”

As you relaxed on the couch again, distracted by plans for your first day at work, Wanda lingered for a moment. The guilt over what she was hiding began to weigh on her, but she knew she couldn’t ignore the implied threat of that pendant.

She had to uncover the truth—what the necklace truly meant, why it survived the fire, and, above all, what it said about you. And she would do whatever it took to protect you. Always.

[...]

The aroma of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, mingling with the familiar sound of toast popping out of the toaster and the morning chatter of the boys arguing over who would get to school faster. You sat at the table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea, trying to calm the anxiety twisting your stomach.

Wanda was beside you, slicing fruit with an apparent calm, but you noticed the quick glances she kept throwing your way, as if she were monitoring you closely.

“You’re going to be amazing,” Billy said suddenly, sliding a buttered piece of toast your way. “People are going to love you. I mean, we love you.”

“Exactly,” Tommy added, his mouth full of cereal. “And if they don’t, it’s because they have terrible taste.”

You smiled, their warm words easing your tension a little. “Thank you, boys. That means a lot.”

Wanda, however, wasn’t content with just words of encouragement. Setting the knife in the sink, she approached, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed as she looked at you with a mix of seriousness and tenderness.

“Listen here,” she began, her tone calm but carrying that firmness that made your spine straighten. “If anyone’s mean to you, if anything bothers you, you call me or text me. Got it?”

The protective yet slightly threatening tone made you raise an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re going to protect me, Avenger?”

“I am,” she replied without hesitation, her eyes sparking with a determination that made your heart race. “And not just because I can. It’s because you’re mine. And no one has the right to make you feel less than amazing.”

The boys exchanged knowing glances before Billy muttered, “Here comes Mama Bear...”

Wanda glanced at them, but the smile that slipped from her lips softened any attempt at reprimand.

You chuckled softly, standing and walking over to her, pressing a light kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, Wanda. Really. I needed to hear that.”

She held your hand for a moment, giving it a light squeeze. “You’ll always have someone in your corner. Me. Don’t forget that.”

The rest of breakfast passed in a lighter mood, and as you left the house for your first day of work, you couldn’t help but glance back, seeing Wanda and the boys waving from the door. No matter how nervous you felt, you knew that, come what may, you had a home filled with love and support waiting for you.

The sound of your footsteps echoed through the impeccably polished hallways as you followed Sharon, the school secretary, trying to keep your nerves in check. She spoke animatedly about how excited the staff was to meet you, but you barely heard her. The first-day jitters were mingling with a growing curiosity.

When you reached the office door, Sharon knocked twice before stepping inside, gesturing for you to follow. “Principal Hill, this is the new literature teacher, Ms. Y/n.”

Your heart seemed to stop for a moment at the mention of that name. Principal Hill? It couldn’t be that Hill… could it?

But when your eyes met the figure behind the dark wooden desk, any doubt you had was crushed. There she was: Maria Hill. The same impeccable posture, the piercing gaze that seemed to see into your soul, and the authoritative air you’d never forget.

"Welcome, Professor Y/n," Maria said, standing up and extending her hand. Her voice was serious, professional, but you knew well the weight behind it.

You tried to hide the tremor in your hand as you shook hers. "It’s a pleasure to be here, Principal Hill. Thank you for the opportunity."

The shock of finding Maria Hill there, as the principal of the school where you’d be working, still burned in your mind as Sharon made the introductions. You tried to maintain your composure, but the weight of high school memories was creeping into your thoughts like an unwelcome ghost.

Maria stood, her eyes briefly widening when they met yours. The surprise on her face was fleeting, quickly replaced by her usual mask of professionalism, but you noticed. You always noticed too much when it came to her.

"Welcome, Professor Y/n," she began, her voice still firm, but with a slight hesitation you recognized immediately.

"Principal Hill," you replied, with a smile that was a bit tighter than it should’ve been. The tension between you felt almost electric, but Sharon seemed oblivious, continuing with the introductions as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

When Sharon finished speaking, Maria tilted her head, her gaze fixed on yours as if trying to decipher something. Finally, she broke the silence. "I see you’ve grown well," she said, her tone casual but with a hint of something you couldn’t quite define.

Those words hit you like a punch. Grown well? Was that all she had to say after years of cruelty, judgmental glances, and harsh words whispered in crowded hallways?

You lifted your chin, refusing to show any weakness. "That’s what they say, right? Time works wonders," you replied, keeping your voice steady, even though something inside you was churning.

Her lips curved slightly into something that wasn’t quite a smile. Maybe it was discomfort, maybe regret. You weren’t sure. "I hope your experience here will be productive. The school has high standards, but I’m confident you’ll meet them."

"Thank you, Principal Hill," you replied with a respectful nod, though not without a touch of irony.

As Sharon guided you out of the office, you could feel Maria’s eyes still on you. That old feeling of being under her microscope returned, but this time, you weren’t the awkward, insecure teenager. Now, you were a confident adult with a purpose.

And, while you didn’t yet know what the future held, you were sure of one thing: Maria Hill wouldn’t be able to tear you down again.

Your first day as a Literature teacher began with a mix of excitement and nerves. You’d spent the night reviewing your lesson plan, tweaking every detail, but nothing could’ve prepared you for the moment you stepped into the classroom and found twenty-five young faces staring at you with curiosity—and in some cases, boredom.

"Good morning, class," you began, smiling nervously. "I’m Professor Y/N, and this is my first day here, just like yours. I hope we can discover together what makes Literature so fascinating."

There were a few murmurs in the room, but one hand shot up almost immediately.

"If it’s so fascinating, why do they force us to learn it?" Peter Parker asked, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

A few chuckles echoed through the room, and you realized you needed to act quickly to win their attention.

"Great question, Peter," you replied, looking directly at him, which made the boy blush slightly. "But I’d say Literature isn’t about forcing anyone to do anything. It’s about understanding stories—and everyone loves a good story, right?"

"That depends," America Chavez commented from the back of the room, her arms crossed, a defiant air about her.

"Depends on what?" you asked, approaching her desk with a smile.

"If the story’s good enough to be worth the time," she replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Then I’ll make you a deal," you said, looking at the entire class. "If by the end of this semester you don’t find at least one story that moves you, one that makes you feel something, then I’ve failed as a teacher."

A buzz spread through the room. You sensed that some students were intrigued, while others seemed to have already decided it would be impossible.

"And where do we start?" Kamala Khan asked excitedly, leaning forward on her desk.

"We start with the classics," you said, holding up a copy of The Great Gatsby. "And along the way, we’ll discover how the stories we read reflect who we are—and who we want to be."

Reactions were mixed. Peter let out an audible sigh, while America rolled her eyes. But Kamala was smiling, clearly excited, and you realized you’d at least found one ally in the room.

The class was going relatively well. You managed to keep most students’ attention while discussing the nuances of the characters in The Great Gatsby. Well, almost everyone. America Chavez was leaning back in her chair, her expression a mix of skepticism and impatience.

"So," you began, turning to the board as you wrote some reflective questions. "What’s your opinion on Daisy Buchanan? Do you think she really loved Gatsby?"

Silence hung for a few seconds before America’s firm, slightly disdainful voice broke it:

"She’s the worst girlfriend in Literature. Like, terrible."

The class burst into laughter, and even you had to suppress a smile before turning to her.

"Interesting perspective, America," you replied, trying not to laugh. "Care to elaborate?"

America straightened in her chair, clearly ready to make her case. "First of all, she’s all swooning over Gatsby, but when he shows up, all she does is make drama. And the worst part? At the end, she basically lets the guy take the fall alone! Who does that?"

"Classic betrayal," Peter murmured to Ned, who nodded seriously.

"And don’t even get me started on her driving," America continued, now gesturing animatedly. "If I were Gatsby, I would’ve run the other way the first time she got behind the wheel."

"Hey, hold on," Kamala interjected, frowning. "Don’t you think she was just trapped in a system that gave her no choices? Like, she’s as much a victim as Gatsby, in a way."

"Victim? Gatsby’s the victim," America shot back. "She had choices. She just made all the worst ones. And seriously, who gets that obsessed with nice shirts?"

More laughter filled the room, and you finally couldn’t hold back and laughed as well.

"Okay, okay," you said, raising your hands to calm the growing chaos. "So, we have an interesting point here. America thinks Daisy is the worst girlfriend in Literature, while Kamala believes she’s a victim of circumstances."

"It’s deeper than that," Peter chimed in, raising his hand. "Daisy represents the limits of the American Dream. She’s just another piece of the broken machine."

"Ah, right, philosopher," America replied, rolling her eyes. "She's just a terrible girlfriend, period."

"Maybe we should make a list of the worst girlfriends in literature to compare," you suggested, unable to resist.

"List? Easy," America said with a grin. "Daisy is number one. Then, I don't know... Lady Macbeth? She made her husband commit murder, so that's worse, right?"

"And would that be a literature assignment or couples therapy?" you joked, making the students laugh even more.

In the end, you managed to regain control of the class, but the discussion about the "worst girlfriends in literature" became an inside joke among the students. America seemed proud to have sparked the debate, while Peter and Kamala continued arguing in the hallways after class.

As for you? Well, you knew this was the kind of class everyone would remember—including you.

You came home after work, exhausted but eager to see the boys and Wanda. Opening the door, you were greeted by Tommy, who dashed down the hallway shouting something about beating Billy in a game.

"Hello to you too," you said with a laugh, closing the door behind you.

The babysitter, a young woman with gentle features and her hair tied up in a messy bun, appeared shortly after, holding a sketchpad that had apparently served as a battleground between the brothers.

"Hi, Y/N," she greeted warmly. "The boys were excited to see you. Wanda hasn’t arrived yet."

You nodded, dropping your bag on the couch. "Thanks, Emma. I’ll wait with them."

The boys settled on the living room floor, debating which episode of Teen Titans to watch, while you and Emma sat on the couch. After a few minutes of casual conversation about the boys and their antics, the topic turned more personal.

"It’s funny," Emma said, fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweater and smiling thoughtfully. "I started working as a nanny just to leave home early. It was the only thing that gave me some independence. Now, I love what I do. Being around kids... It’s therapeutic."

"I can imagine," you replied, leaning forward slightly, curiosity dancing in your eyes. "But what made you leave home so early? You seem so comfortable with what you do that I’d never have guessed."

Emma hesitated, glancing down at her hands, now nervously fiddling with the hem of her sweater. "My mom..." she began, her voice faltering before hardening with a hint of bitterness. "When she found out I liked girls, everything changed. She wasn’t my mom anymore. It was like living with a stranger who hated everything about me. Every move I made felt wrong. It wasn’t a home, you know? It was a battlefield."

Your heart ached at her words, the pain resonating deeply. "I understand," you said softly, your voice almost breaking. "In the orphanage... Being different was a sentence too. It didn’t matter what it was—too quiet, too curious, too anything—you became a target. Pain can harden you, but somehow, it also gave me strength."

Emma looked up at you, her eyes glistening with tears. "It’s good to hear that from someone who really understands," she said, her voice trembling. "Because sometimes, it feels like I’ll carry this pain forever."

Without hesitation, you reached out, covering her hand with yours—a firm but gentle touch that offered warmth and comfort. "No one should carry that alone, Emma," you said, meeting her gaze directly. "And you know what’s even more incredible? That strength you have... It’s yours alone. No one—not even the past—can take that away from you."

The first tears fell from her eyes, and almost instinctively, you raised a hand to gently wipe them away. The gesture was simple but profoundly caring. "You’re not alone," you whispered, smiling tenderly.

Emma let out a soft laugh amidst her tears, wiping her own eyes shortly after. "Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know why I’m falling apart like this, but... thank you."

"Sometimes falling apart is what we need," you replied with a knowing smile. "And sometimes, a juice or coffee helps hold things together."

Emma laughed again, shaking her head. "You’re good at this."

"Let’s just say it’s my specialty," you replied, winking as the boys shouted from the kitchen, complaining about something to do with pancakes and chocolate syrup.

"I hope I’m not interrupting."

Wanda’s voice cut through the moment like a blade, carrying a tone that was almost casual, yet laced with an undertone you couldn’t ignore. You turned quickly, finding her standing in the doorway, her bag slung over one shoulder, her eyes fixed on your hand still resting over Emma’s.

"Hey, you’re home," you said, trying to sound more composed than you felt as you instinctively pulled your hand away.

Wanda stepped into the room, her movements precise and controlled. She set her bag on the table with a smile that felt deliberate, but not quite warm. "I hope the boys weren’t too much trouble, Emma."

Emma, visibly flustered, quickly stood, adjusting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "Not at all. They were great, as always. Well, I should get going. Goodnight, Wanda. Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Emma," you replied, watching her leave before turning back to Wanda, who remained standing with her arms crossed, an expression that hovered between curiosity and something sharper.

"She seems... nice," Wanda remarked, her voice overly casual.

"She is," you said, moving toward her, trying to ease the tension that thickened the air. "And she’s been through a lot. I was just trying to comfort her."

Wanda raised an eyebrow, her eyes assessing you as her expression softened slightly. "You have a knack for attracting broken hearts, you know that?"

"It’s because I’m irresistible," you teased, flashing a playful smile to lighten the mood.

Wanda sighed, but the corner of her mouth lifted in a faint smile. "You are. But you’re mine."

You arched an eyebrow, feigning indignation at her clear display of possessiveness. "No need to be jealous, my love. I have a thing for older women, redheads, super bossy, and ridiculously powerful."

A genuine smile finally broke across her face as you leaned in to gently kiss her shoulder. "Bargaining, are we?" Wanda murmured, her arm sliding around you to pull you closer.

"Just reminding you that your place in my heart is unbeatable," you quipped, resting your forehead against hers.

"Nice try," Wanda replied, but the soft chuckle that escaped her told you you’d won this round.

You laughed, feeling the tension dissolve as she tugged you along by the hand. Even if jealousy had flared, you knew that your place beside Wanda—in her life, in her heart—was uniquely yours.

The twins were eager, as always, when you sat on the rug, surrounded by the soft cushions scattered across the living room floor. The gentle glow of the lamp made the room feel even cozier. Billy was already seated, his eyes attentive, while Tommy, pretending disinterest, tossed a pillow into the corner but was clearly ready to listen.

"Today, I’m going to tell you a special story," you began, adjusting yourself on the rug and looking at the two. "It’s an ancient Greek legend about two souls that never stopped finding each other, no matter what happened."

Billy’s eyes widened, already immersed in the promise of the tale. "Is it about love? Like, soulmates?"

You smiled, appreciating the innocence of his question. "Exactly. It’s about Orpheus and Eurydice."

Tommy, who had been slouching to the side, sat up a little straighter, still trying to seem indifferent. "This is going to be tragic, isn’t it?"

"Maybe," you replied, winking at him. "But it’s also going to be beautiful."

Wanda, who you knew was in the kitchen tinkering with something, seemed far too quiet. There was that familiar energy in the air, as if she were listening to every word.

"Orpheus was such a talented musician that even the gods stopped to listen when he played his lyre," you began, your voice imbued with the emotion of the story. "And Eurydice was the nymph he loved more than anything. They were inseparable… until something terrible happened."

The narration unfolded, and you described the snake bite, Eurydice’s death, and Orpheus’s journey to the underworld. Billy was practically holding his breath, while Tommy, now completely engrossed, leaned forward.

"Did he save her?" Billy asked, the anxiety clear in his voice.

"Almost," you replied, pausing dramatically, letting the air in the room hold the weight of the moment. "But at the last second, he doubted.

He turned to look at her before they were completely out of the underworld. And because of that, he lost her forever. Eurydice was pulled back, and Orpheus was left alone, with only his music and the memory of the love they had shared."

Tommy, abandoning his posture of disinterest, sighed. "That’s so sad."

"It is sad," you admitted, leaning slightly toward them, "but it’s also beautiful. Because even after death, even after everything, they say their souls kept finding each other. In every life, in every form. Like birds flying together or stars shining side by side in the sky. They never stopped loving each other."

At that moment, you felt a gaze on you. Lifting your eyes, you found Wanda standing in the doorway. She held a mug of tea, but it was clear she had forgotten about it. Her eyes were fixed on you, and there was something deep in them—a intensity that made your heart race.

"That’s the most powerful part of the story," Wanda said, her voice low but filled with meaning. "No matter how many times they’re lost, they always find their way back to each other."

The twins looked at her and then at you, as if sensing something in the air they couldn’t quite understand.

"What happens if they don’t find each other in one life?" Tommy asked, breaking the silence.

"Then it’s just a matter of time," Wanda answered before you could open your mouth. "Because some souls are destined to find each other, no matter how long it takes."

Billy smiled, satisfied. "This is my favorite story so far."

"Mine too," you murmured, but your eyes remained locked on Wanda’s. The connection between you felt almost tangible, like an invisible thread vibrating in the air.

Wanda smiled softly, that smile that said everything without needing words. She knew. And so did you.

Fate is a tireless dancer, its steps entwined with luck and will, with desire and chance. It carries us along paths we don’t choose, but that somehow always seem to find us. Uncertainty is its greatest charm and its greatest torment—the not knowing, the almost, the maybe.

In every life, in every beginning, we are pawns on the infinite board of time, guided by invisible hands whispering promises we don’t know if they’ll keep. And yet, we leap forward, trusting that, at some point, the scattered lines will converge.

There’s a cruel beauty in uncertainty. It’s what makes the heart race at the possibility, what gives a meeting a bittersweet flavor, tempered by doubt. It’s what turns a moment into eternity because the next moment is unknown, as fragile as a thread in the wind.

When Wanda said those words—"It’s just a matter of time"—something stirred inside you, like a buried truth, a certainty you didn’t know you carried. It was the faith that even in the roughest seas, even in the driest deserts, there’s something that always calls us back. An invisible magnet, a song only two souls can hear.

And if they don’t meet in one life? Then, perhaps, it will be in the next. Or the one after that. Because some connections transcend what is tangible, defy logic, ignore probabilities. They are the stars that always end up forming constellations, the rivers that, sooner or later, find the sea.

You looked at the twins, their eyes shining with the innocence only youth can offer. And then at Wanda, whose eyes said so much with so little. In that moment, there was no uncertainty. Only the certainty of now—her gaze, the invisible thread that bound you, and the promise that, no matter how uncertain fate may be, it always brings the right souls back to each other.

Even if it takes time. Even if it hurts. Even if the dance between you feels endless.

~*~

You are free to create theories from now on. Whoever comes closest may receive a prize hehehe

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[claramelooo]

Rio Vidal.

Green Witch, mother and loving wife. Telling her loved ones what to do since the 18th century.

[claramelooo]

Shoot meee

you gay? 🫵🏻

[claramelooo]

Wdym we are expecting a wandanat au from user claramelooo..

I just know you will be doing full justice to it. Can't wait

And I promise that you will have it ahahaha I just need ideas for scripts!! Send me send meee

Xoxo,

💜

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Guys, my routine is getting back to normal, so maybe I'll delay the time or day of the posts. I hope you'll forgive me 😩🙏🏻

Pay attention to the signs from now on.

Enjoy it <3

MINORS DO NO MUST INTERACT

Summary: Things are finally moving in the right direction, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist.

LOVE

As Wanda rose from the bed, the silence of the room felt heavy, filled only with the lingering echoes of shared moments. She reached for the blanket now crumpled on the floor, trying to restore the order that had unknowingly been shattered. The room, once immaculate, now bore the traces of desire, of intensity, of something immense and unique that had transpired between the two of you.

Her gaze swept across the space as she gathered the scattered clothes, and that’s when something caught her attention. There, on the floor near the headboard, something shimmered softly under the lamplight. Wanda crouched down, curiosity piqued, and found a necklace. It was simple, yet the pendant—a golden sun—seemed to emit a light of its own. Strange. She had never seen it before. Wanda held it between her fingers, her eyes narrowing in thought.

The necklace had been placed there deliberately, as if waiting to be found, but she couldn’t recall ever seeing it. She glanced at her own neck, confirming she wasn’t wearing it. The object didn’t belong to her memories, yet it felt familiar, as if it had always been there, silently waiting for this moment.

Wanda twisted the necklace between her fingers, feeling the coolness of the metal and the smoothness of the chain. The golden sun pendant seemed to glow faintly, warming her skin as she observed it more closely. It was simple yet elegant, carrying an air of antiquity—as if it held stories of its own, tales steeped in the weight of years, perhaps even lifetimes.

She tried to recall where she might have seen it or who could have left it there, but her mind offered no answers. Still, the sense of familiarity remained, unsettling and deep. What made it even stranger was the significance the necklace seemed to hold, as though it was part of something larger, something beyond the present—perhaps a fragment of an unknown future. It felt like a missing piece of her own existence.

She turned, her gaze falling on you, still lying there with your eyes closed and your expression serene. The necklace seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, but Wanda didn’t believe in coincidences. In her world, where magic and fate intertwined in mysterious ways, she knew that nothing happened without a reason. That necklace, that golden sun, must mean something.

Wanda watched you sleep, your body wrapped in the warmth of the blankets. For a while, she stood still, her eyes lingering on your peaceful face. You looked so calm, so innocent in that quiet moment. The contrast between the intensity of the night before and the softness of the present made her smile. Yet there was something she couldn’t ignore. Time was passing, and though she loved having you there, her responsibilities called.

“Y/n...” Wanda murmured softly, her voice gentle, as if reluctant to wake you. She reached out, her hand brushing through your hair with tender care. “Wake up, darling.”

Her voice was low, but the underlying urgency was palpable. Wanda didn’t want to break the tranquility, but the hours were slipping away. It was already past four in the afternoon, and she had things to do—like preparing dinner for the boys. She hated interrupting moments like this, but if she didn’t, she knew she’d lose track of time.

“My lazy little girl,” she teased, a playful smile curving her lips, though her tone remained affectionate. “Wake up… You’ll sleep the entire day away if you don’t.”

Her fingers traced your skin once more, this time with a firmer touch, ensuring you’d stir without being startled. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and mild exasperation, though beneath it all was the deep desire to see you happy, to savor life by her side.

“I know it’s cozy there, but, my love, you need to return to reality for a bit.” Wanda’s teasing tone held a deeper truth. She wanted you to know that while your time together was precious, the world outside still waited.

She watched as your fingers twitched, a sign of life stirring beneath the blankets, and her smile widened. Wanda loved seeing you wake like this—sleepy, beautiful, with a vulnerability only she was privileged to witness. She felt at peace, though a part of her buzzed with anticipation, waiting for the moment you’d fully awaken so she could share another touch, another whispered promise.

“Y/n...” Wanda repeated, her voice firmer this time but still soft. She felt the pull to draw you closer, to embrace you, yet she held back, knowing that the peaceful moment would soon come to an end. “Wake up, darling… You have to go, but we still have a little more time, don’t we?”

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, the gentle afternoon light spilling into the room. Despite the glow, your vision remained clouded with sleep, your body too heavy with comfort to want to move. But Wanda’s voice—soft, insistent—lingered in your mind.

“Wands...” you murmured, your voice husky with drowsiness, the nickname slipping out effortlessly, filled with affection and familiarity. It sounded like a reflex, an unconscious expression of the bond between you.

The sound of it made Wanda’s breath catch. Something about that simple word stirred something deep within her, something she couldn’t quite explain. Warmth spread through her chest, an unexpected, overwhelming feeling of belonging that made her heart race. It was as if that one word touched a hidden part of her, something she hadn’t realized was there—a feeling both new and familiar, like finding a piece of herself she hadn’t known was missing.

Wanda stayed still, watching you, her gaze intense and unwavering. She prided herself on control, but in that moment, all sense of control seemed distant. That nickname, so soft, so meaningful, seemed to reshape her world, painting a new reality she couldn’t deny.

Leaning closer, Wanda traced her fingers across your cheek, her touch delicate yet deliberate, as if confirming that you were real, that this wasn’t a dream. “What is it, my little one?” she asked, her voice lower than usual, laced with vulnerability—something she rarely allowed to show. Only you could draw that out of her.

The warmth spreading through her didn’t stop. Wanda wasn’t sure whether she wanted to keep you in that peaceful moment or lose herself completely in what she was feeling. That simple nickname carried an inexplicable power—a bond, invisible yet unbreakable, something beyond words.

As you pushed yourself up from the bed, your legs wobbled, unsteady from rest, as if melted by sleep. The room still hummed with the calm of the aftermath of something intense, and your mind remained hazy, clouded with lingering sensations you couldn’t yet process. Your feet touched the floor unsteadily, nearly tripping before you could brace yourself on the nearest piece of furniture.

And then Wanda’s playful, mischievous giggle sliced through the quiet.

“Mommy got you good, didn’t she?” she teased, her eyes gleaming with a wicked light, her voice dripping with playful malice.

As you looked at her, warmth rose to your cheeks, but instead of shying away, you met Wanda's intensity head-on, refusing to let her have the last word.

"Maybe," you teased, a playful smile lighting up your face, your eyes gleaming with challenge. "But you know you love seeing me like this."

Your response was steady, a blend of well-placed provocation and newfound confidence born from the moments you had just shared with her. Wanda raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your boldness, yet unable to hide her satisfaction at the effect she had on you.

"Oh, you're feeling quite cheeky now, aren’t you?" Wanda chuckled, her laughter laced with desire and undeniable affection. She stepped toward you, her predatory gaze and sly smile promising she was ready to make you surrender all over again.

"What can I say? My sharp tongue is what makes you feel so powerful, isn’t it?" you teased, your grin sharpening as the tension between you both thickened. "But you're hard to resist too."

Your words hit their mark with precision, spoken with the kind of directness that made Wanda's eyes flash with that familiar fire—a hunger that your every word seemed to stoke. This dynamic between you, the playful dance of power, submission, and teasing defiance, had grown into something undeniable. Wanda, ever watchful, took in your every movement, her gaze burning as though every word you uttered was both a challenge and an irresistible temptation.

Her lips parted slightly, her teeth grazing her bottom lip—a gesture she couldn’t quite control, as if she was already imagining the ways she’d claim you again. Her restraint was fragile, that much was clear. She knew time was running out. Responsibilities awaited. You both had lives to return to. But for a fleeting moment, Wanda hesitated, the desire to pull you back into her embrace stronger than any rational thought.

She took another step closer, her presence radiating warmth and pulling you in. You felt the heat between you, the magnetic pull that made your breath hitch and your heart race faster. Every inch closer made it harder to hold back, the urge to lose yourself in her overwhelming.

"You’re impossible," Wanda murmured, her voice low and dripping with desire, barely keeping her composure intact. "But I can’t stay away from you."

You leaned in, your voice soft yet laced with playful defiance. "I know, Wands. You’ll always want more."

Your bodies instinctively closed the distance, pulled by that invisible force binding you two. The air around you crackled with tension, every breath heavier, every glance charged with unspoken longing. Your lips were just a heartbeat away from meeting when—

"Mama!"

The sharp call of a child’s voice shattered the moment, like a bolt of lightning cutting through a storm.

The sound of her boys’ voices echoed from the distance, but it was enough to snap Wanda out of the trance. She froze, a sigh of frustration slipping from her lips as the spell between you broke. You, still caught in the heat of the moment, shivered at the sudden shift in reality. Wanda’s gaze locked on yours, her eyes still aflame with desire, but now tinted with exasperation.

"Time to face reality," she murmured with a soft, amused smile, though a flicker of reluctance lingered in her tone.

When you walked into the dining room, Tommy’s eyes widened, clearly surprised to still see you there.

"Y/N! You're still here?" he exclaimed, the surprise evident in his voice.

You let out an awkward laugh, trying to mask your embarrassment, but unable to suppress the small smile tugging at your lips.

"Yeah... your mom and I were talking about you two," you began, your voice a little hesitant, as if you were still searching for a plausible excuse. "She gave me some tips about Russian history..."

You glanced at Wanda, who, upon hearing you, raised an eyebrow with a subtle smirk playing on her lips. She was clearly amused by your attempt to justify what had just happened. Her gaze lingered on you, as if she knew exactly what was running through your mind, finding entertainment in your effort to maintain composure.

She said nothing, but the slight curl of her lips said it all: she understood that what the two of you had shared could not easily be explained, and she found the whole situation funny—the way you tried to disguise it, as if the world around you both wouldn't be able to comprehend.

Tommy still looked a little confused, but Billy, ever direct, wasted no time asking the question that seemed to hang in the air.

"Are you staying for dinner?" he asked, his mouth full of food, cheeks puffed out with a piece of chicken.

You opened your mouth to decline, to say you didn’t want to impose, but before you could finish your sentence, Wanda interrupted.

"Yes. Sit down, Y/N," she said, her tone firm but gentle, a tone you knew well.

When you glanced at the table, your heart softened at the sight—a fourth plate, carefully placed, as if Wanda had been expecting you.

It was such a simple thing, yet in that moment, it felt like more than just an ordinary meal. It was an invitation to be part of something, to integrate into the routine she so deeply wanted you to share with her and the boys. Wanda didn’t need to say anything more. That gesture alone spoke volumes, and despite your efforts to resist the idea of staying, something inside you gave in to the need to be part of that scene—to allow yourself to live that moment of connection, of family, with them.

You glanced at Wanda, and without meaning to, a small, sincere smile escaped your lips. That was what she wanted—what she needed, perhaps more than anything else. To feel whole. To feel that you were there with them, in those small, everyday moments.

Wanda watched you with a soft expression, almost as if she feared you might disappear at any moment. She had never truly understood what it meant to feel complete until now. That simple gesture—the fourth plate at the table—was everything she had been longing for.

It wasn’t about grand feats, battles won, or moments of glory. No. It was about that instant. She wanted you there, with them, sharing a meal, laughing with the boys, building bonds that were simple yet profound.

The shy smile you gave her made her chest tighten in a sweet, aching way, a warmth spreading through her. It was a smile of acceptance. Of belonging. And she felt as if, finally, she had found what she had been searching for.

After years of fighting, of loneliness, she never imagined that her happiness would come from something so simple. She had weathered countless storms, defeated powerful enemies, reshaped entire realities, but nothing compared to the satisfaction of seeing you there—so close, so human, so present. It made her feel that everything she had done, all the suffering and sacrifice, had been worth it. Because in that moment, she no longer needed the power to destroy; she needed the power to live.

If she had to fight to protect this, she would. Everything. She would do anything to ensure you remained there, with them. She wouldn’t allow anything to take away that sense of completeness. She never thought she could find peace in something as simple as being with her family—with you—but there it was, as clear as the sparkle in the boys’ eyes.

Wanda glanced at the plate you were about to take and let out a soft sigh. Perhaps it was the first time in a long while that she felt truly alive. No longer just the Scarlet Witch, the world-breaker, but a woman who longed for the warmth of a home. A home she knew, without a doubt, she wanted to build with you.

She didn’t need anything else. Just you. And she would do everything to keep this happiness, even if it meant fighting against fate itself.

Dinner was peaceful, yet there was a subtle tension in the air, a palpable energy that you could barely ignore. Wanda, seated beside you, chatted with the boys about their day, asking questions, laughing at Tommy's thoughtless, animated responses, and trying to provide some guidance to Billy, who always seemed lost in his own thoughts.

You remained quiet, your eyes darting between the boys and Wanda, observing the little moments. The air was filled with laughter and conversation, but something else vibrated between you and Wanda—a pull that thrived on the subtlest touches, the unspoken glances, as if all you wanted was to stay right there, close to her.

When your gaze met Wanda’s, her eyes were sparkling, a gentle smile on her lips. But her gaze spoke more than words ever could. She was attentive, always attentive to you, and the feeling of being seen by her in such a deep, sincere way made your heart race.

You tried to hide it, focusing on the food in front of you, but the rising warmth in your cheeks betrayed your inner thoughts.

And then, an unexpected sensation spread through your leg, making you shiver—not entirely surprised, but still caught off guard.

Wanda’s foot brushed against yours, sliding against your skin with a lightness that seemed intentional yet natural. It was as if she couldn’t keep herself away from you, even beneath the table where no one else could see.

The touch was soft, yet so charged with intent. Wanda was right there, beside you, doing nothing overt, yet everything around you seemed to vanish as you focused on that gesture. You remembered the kiss—the way she had kissed you with such intensity, as if trying to imprint the moment in her memory. The warmth, the urgency, the gentleness—it was as if she had left a mark on you that could never be erased.

You quickly turned, catching Wanda’s gaze once more. She was watching you with a quiet intensity, a subtle smile on her lips. She knew exactly what she was doing, and something inside you could no longer resist.

The energy between you was becoming almost unbearable, and even with the boys chatting excitedly about their plans for tomorrow, all you could do was lose yourself in her presence.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Billy asked, his childish concern pulling you back to reality.

You blinked, confused for a second, before forcing yourself to give a nervous smile. "Yes, of course. Just thinking that it's already late." Your eyes met Wanda's, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background, the warmth of her touch enveloping you once more.

Her smile widened, subtle but filled with silent promises, while the boys continued talking. She was there, present in every moment, but also, somehow, entirely yours. And as much as you wanted to hide behind your shyness, you knew that everything became more intense, more heated, more yours when you were by her side.

Dinner seemed to stretch longer than usual, the conversation flowing smoothly while you tried to remain as composed as possible, though your mind was filled with thoughts of Wanda. Now, as you stood from the table, the sensation of wanting to run away yet stay close to her consumed you.

The boys were distracted with their toys and chatter, and you took the opportunity to say your goodbyes, trying to maintain your composure. "Bye, Tommy. Bye, Billy. See you next Saturday, boys," you said with a smile, though your desire to leave was partially driven by everything that was happening between you and Wanda.

Wanda stood up after you, her expression somewhat serious, but with a soft smile as she motioned for you to follow her. She was calm, yet there was an intensity in her movements—something almost predatory, as if she were holding back something she could barely contain. It only fueled your desire to stay near her, to feel the heat radiating from her presence.

She guided you to the door, and as you passed through it, something in the air seemed to shift. You could no longer ignore what you were feeling—the tension between the two of you becoming almost unbearable. Her presence was in every corner of the house, but there, at the door, it felt like the very point where everything would unravel. You couldn’t hold back any longer. You wanted to kiss her right there, under the soft glow of the night.

Without thinking, you whispered, "I want to kiss you."

Wanda's reaction was instant. She stopped, her green eyes narrowing with a spark of something deeper, more primal. You felt the air between you electrify, and Wanda almost gasped before replying in a husky voice, "I know. I want it too. But we can’t."

That response was like fuel to a fire—a challenge you couldn’t resist. Without giving her time to say more, you stepped closer to her, ignoring logic, ignoring any rational thought about what might happen. All you felt was an uncontrollable desire to have her, to lose yourself in that moment with her, no matter the risk.

"I can’t get enough of you. What are you doing to me?" Your voice came out trembling, more vulnerable than you wanted to admit. But she knew it was the truth.

Wanda’s eyes grew even more intense, a flicker of red flashing through them as her control slipped by a thread. She let out a low growl, as if giving in to everything she had been holding back. "Fuck it," she muttered before capturing your mouth in a ravenous kiss.

The kiss started with urgency—a clash of mouths that unleashed all the pent-up tension between you. Wanda’s lips were warm and soft, moving with an almost wild hunger against yours as her hands slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if she wanted to fuse you into one. The world around you disappeared, leaving only the wet sound of your lips meeting and the frantic drumming of your hearts.

Her tongue met yours in a slow, possessive movement, exploring, teasing, claiming. Wanda tasted you like she wanted to memorize every detail, every flavor. Your bodies leaned into each other instinctively, seeking more contact, more heat, as the kiss deepened, growing messier and more desperate. There was something unstoppable about it—as if both of you were trying to extract everything you could from each other, as if tomorrow might never come.

You felt her nails lightly scratch your skin, and a soft, ragged moan escaped your throat. Wanda, in turn, let out a low growl, barely audible but filled with raw intensity. Your mouths parted briefly to catch your breath, only to crash together again, fiercer, hungrier, as if stopping was impossible.

Finally, the kiss began to slow, becoming gentler but no less passionate. Wanda rested her forehead against yours, your heavy breaths mingling in the cool night air. Your lips still tingled, and both of your faces glistened with the sheen of that shared moment.

"Good night," you murmured, your voice broken and trembling as you tried to catch your breath.

Wanda smiled against your lips, the tip of her nose brushing yours. "Good night, little one. Until tomorrow," she whispered, her tone low and dripping with promises.

She gave you one last look before stepping inside, her green eyes shining under the moonlight, leaving you standing on the sidewalk, still tasting her on your lips and feeling the fire of her kiss burning on your skin.

Wanda paused at the doorway, her hand lingering on the doorknob as if something held her back from simply walking inside. Slowly, she turned to face you, her green eyes raking over every inch of your body with a gaze that made your breath falter. There was something predatory in her stance, something that made the air around you feel heavier, thick with expectation and authority.

"Don’t even think about touching yourself." Her voice was firm, deep, each word carrying a command that tied your stomach into knots.

Heat spread through your body instantly, your face flushing as if her voice alone had the power to ignite a fire within you. Wanda tilted her head slightly, the corner of her lips curving into a small, dangerous smile as she pointed toward your center, warm and pulsing.

"That," she said, her voice softer now but no less intense. "That’s mine."

The look she gave you before stepping inside was enough to leave you breathless, as if she had left an invisible mark on you. And then she disappeared into the house, closing the door with a calmness that contrasted sharply with the storm she had just left brewing inside you.

You stood there, frozen, your heart pounding fiercely and your mind spinning in endless circles. Needy. Dominated. And completely incapable of doing anything except longing for the next night to come far too quickly.

As you remained rooted to the spot, still trying to catch your breath, something began to shift inside you. It was subtle at first, like a calm wave forming on the horizon, but it quickly grew in intensity. It wasn’t just desire burning through your body — it was something deeper, more visceral, almost spiritual.

Your heart seemed to beat in sync with a force that wasn’t solely your own. It felt as if Wanda had marked not only your skin but your very soul. Every word she had spoken, every touch, every gaze now weighed heavily in your mind with a gravity you couldn’t quite explain.

You felt different, as though something inside you had been unlocked. The connection between the two of you was no longer just physical or emotional; it was something greater, something that transcended what you understood as reality. It seemed as if your mind and heart were now inexplicably synchronized with hers, like an invisible thread permanently tied between you two.

It was both terrifying and comforting. Terrifying because you had never felt anything so intense, so absolute. Comforting because, deep down, it felt right. As if you had finally found the place you had always belonged, even without knowing it.

As you walked home, the night air seemed denser, charged with something you couldn’t see but could feel. With each step, the certainty grew inside you: after that night, nothing would ever be the same. You were no longer just yourself. And Wanda was no longer just Wanda. You were something new, something indissoluble. And that filled you with an ache you could barely contain.

You grew up alone. A small orphanage, far from any big city, with cold hallways and beds that creaked with every movement. It wasn’t a bad place, exactly, but it wasn’t good either. It simply was. A space where you existed, but never belonged.

You arrived there when you were only four years old, but the memories of that time were vague, hazy, like a bad dream you could never fully recall upon waking. You knew that something terrible had happened, but the details slipped away like grains of sand through your fingers.

All the social workers told you was that your parents had died in a fire. An accident, apparently, but no one could explain how you had managed to escape. The only thing that remained from that day was the box made of fine wood, given to you by a firefighter.

“Is this mine?” you remembered asking with your small, trembling hands clutching the box.

“Yes,” the firefighter replied, his voice gentle. “It was on the ground beside you. Hold onto it carefully, little one. It’s special.”

You never quite understood what he meant. Special? How could something be special when everything around you had been reduced to ashes?

The following weeks were a blur. You remembered unfamiliar voices, people trying to be kind, but nothing made sense. No one could explain why you had survived when your parents hadn’t. Worse, no one could tell you what they were like. The trauma had erased almost everything. You barely remembered their faces, their voices, or their embraces. All that remained was an echo, a vague sensation of belonging that vanished along with the flames.

And so you were taken to the orphanage.

It was an old building, with walls that seemed to whisper stories of other children who had passed through there — marks of paint and drawings on the walls. Some seemed to cry out for help; others screamed for freedom. You quickly learned that it was easier to become invisible. Easier not to form bonds, because bonds were easily broken in that place.

You clung to the sun-shaped pendant and the note inside the box. “You are our sun, Y/N. Shine for the world.” You read those words whenever the weight of loneliness became unbearable. It was a small ray of hope, but also a bitter reminder of what you had lost.

As you grew older, the sense of not belonging deepened. While other children were adopted, you remained there, year after year, watching temporary friends leave and feeling envious of their new lives. You wanted to believe that you, too, were worthy of love, but each passing day without a family made that belief wither.

You had questions that no one could answer. Who were your parents? Why had the fire happened? Why couldn’t you remember them? And, most importantly, why had they left behind a note that seemed to carry such profound meaning but offered no real answers?

It was in that void that you began to build your own dreams. If you couldn’t have a traditional family, then you would create one. If no one was going to save you, you would find your own strength. And, deep down, there was that silent, almost childlike desire to have someone look at you as if you were the center of their universe.

You dreamed of it. Of a house filled with laughter, of family dinners, of the feeling of safety you had never known. And without realizing it, fate was beginning to prepare you for something you couldn’t yet imagine.

Because while you spent nights in the orphanage clutching the sun-shaped pendant, the universe was weaving its invisible threads, connecting you to something greater. To someone greater. You didn’t know it yet, but there was far more to the words in that note. They were a promise, a reminder that you were more than an orphan, more than lost. You were the sun. And one day, you would shine again. And maybe, just maybe, you would find someone who would shine with you.

High school was a battlefield for you, and it seemed like you never had any armor. You were “the weirdo,” the girl who didn’t fit in anywhere. The second-hand clothes and your shy demeanor didn’t help. People love to find easy targets, and you seemed to carry a neon sign that said, “Attack here.”

Maria Hill was the epitome of all of it. She was the girl who seemed to have stepped straight out of a clichéd American high school movie: cheerleader, popular, confident, always surrounded by a group of followers who laughed at the jokes she made at your expense. She made it her mission to remind you every day that you would never be like her.

“You should be grateful that I even notice your existence,” she once said as she knocked your books out of your hands in the hallway. It was a phrase that summed up the dynamic between you two.

You hated Maria Hill. Not just for the way she treated you, but because it seemed like she enjoyed it. There was a twisted glint in her eyes every time she humiliated you, as if she took pleasure in seeing you vulnerable.

Then came that day. You were in the bathroom, trying to pull yourself together after another round of taunts. The sinks were old and stained, the mirrors smudged with fingerprints and spots no one bothered to clean. You were staring at your reflection, wondering what was wrong with you, when you heard the door open.

It was her. Maria Hill.

“You think you can just run away from me, freak?” she asked, her voice cold and dripping with provocation.

You turned away, trying to ignore her, but she crossed the space between you in seconds, trapping you against the wall. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest.

"Why are you so... irritating?" she whispered, her face so close to yours that you could smell the faint floral scent of her perfume.

You were ready to snap back, to say something sarcastic, but the words died in your throat when she leaned in even closer, her eyes gleaming with something that wasn’t just anger. It was something else, something you had never seen before.

"You drive me insane," she continued, her voice softer now, almost husky. There was something in her gaze that made you completely forget how much you hated her.

And then it happened. She kissed you.

It wasn’t a sweet or gentle kiss. It was filled with anger and confusion, like she was fighting a battle against herself. As if the hatred she pretended to feel for you had twisted into something she couldn’t control.

For a moment, you were paralyzed, shock coursing through you. But there was something in that kiss that ignited a spark inside you. Something that made your whole body react, even as your mind screamed at you to push her away.

When she pulled back, her eyes were filled with confusion, as if she didn’t understand what she had just done either.

"Don’t you dare tell anyone," she said, her voice trembling slightly. Then she turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

That was the day you realized you liked girls. And somehow, you also discovered that there was something about women like Maria Hill — complicated, confusing, and, in a way, dangerous — that drew you in.

You didn’t know what to do with that feeling. Part of you wanted to hate her even more, but another part wanted to understand why she was like that. Why someone who seemed to have it all needed to tear you down to feel alive.

The rest of high school became strange after that. Maria continued to taunt you, but it was different now. More reserved, almost as if she was afraid of driving you away completely. And you... you were trapped in a tangle of feelings you still couldn’t name.

The days after that first kiss were a whirlwind of emotions. Maria seemed determined to keep you under her control, as if she had decided you were a precious secret only she could keep.

After cheerleading practice, when all the other girls had left, she would always find you under the bleachers. Always with that same look — like someone on the verge of breaking their own rules.

"Do you think you can escape me?" she would whisper before pulling you into another kiss. And you, even knowing how wrong it all was, couldn’t resist.

Her kisses were intense, like she was trying to mark you, to claim you as hers. The way she touched you, how she cupped your face in her hands, how she bit her lip when she pulled away — it all felt like a game. But a game where you didn’t know the rules, and she wasn’t willing to explain them.

"You’re mine," she said once, her face so close to yours that you could feel her warm breath against your skin. There was something possessive in her voice, something that made your heart race but also left an uncomfortable knot in your chest.

Because deep down, you knew you couldn’t give your heart to her. There was an emptiness in Maria’s eyes, a black hole of insecurity and confusion that she masked with arrogance. She could kiss you, touch you, tell you that you were hers, but she would never be able to give you anything in return.

And you were right.

At graduation, everything fell apart. You approached her during the party, hoping for... what, exactly? Maybe a kind word, maybe a sign of validation. But what you received was something entirely different.

Maria stood surrounded by her friends, the queen of the night as always. When she saw you, her eyes hardened, as if she was bracing for an attack.

"Oh, here comes the freak," she said loud enough for everyone around her to hear. The laughter that followed cut through you like a knife.

"Hey, Maria! There are rumors that you’ve been making out with the weirdo behind the bleachers!" a boy from her group jeered, his mocking tone drawing more laughter.

The comment echoed through the hall, and you felt the ground disappear beneath your feet. The group burst into laughter, and Maria, instead of denying it or standing up for you, gave a fake smile and let out a forced laugh that shattered you like glass.

"Me? Making out with her?" Maria repeated, her tone dripping with scorn. She crossed her arms and tilted her head, her cruel gaze locking on you. "Come on, do you really think someone like me would ever go for someone like her?"

The group’s laughter grew louder, and your face burned with humiliation, as if every light in the room was shining directly on you. You wanted to disappear, to evaporate right then and there, but you were trapped in a waking nightmare.

"Seriously?" you managed to whisper, your voice trembling and barely audible. But Maria heard you. And for a moment, her smile faltered, her mask slipping just a bit before she quickly put it back in place.

"'Seriously'?" she repeated, stepping closer as if to deliver the final blow. "Did you really think someone like me would ever be with someone like you? It was fun watching you humiliate yourself, but let’s be real — it’s getting pathetic now."

Her words hit like punches, one after another, until you could barely breathe. And then came the final strike:

"Oh, and just to be clear..." Maria leaned in, her voice cold, devoid of any trace of the passion or intensity from your secret encounters. "It never meant anything. You never meant anything."

You stood there, frozen, as she walked away with a smug smirk, tossing her hair back like she had just won a prize.

Your heart was in pieces. Not just because of what she said, but because you had believed, even for a moment, that Maria could be more than the cruel, insecure girl who needed to destroy others to feel powerful.

You left the party early that night, hot tears streaming down your face as you walked home. The pain was overwhelming, but somewhere deep inside, there was a flicker of relief. Because as much as it hurt more than anything you had ever felt, it was over. You were free of her. Free from the manipulation, the confusion, the pain of being treated as something disposable.

And deep down, a small voice whispered: You deserve more. Shine, Y/n.

In that moment, you didn’t know what "more" meant. You didn’t know that the universe had far greater plans for you, that someone much more worthy of your heart was waiting for you. But in that painful moment, you made a promise to yourself — that you would never let anyone treat you that way again.

You stood there, frozen in place, as the world around you seemed to crumble. Each word she spoke felt like a blow, tearing away at the fragile confidence you had built in her — and in yourself.

She had humiliated you, publicly, without remorse. And in that moment, you knew that Maria Hill had never been capable of loving you. She was a storm — chaotic and destructive — and you were just the house she tore down on her path.

As much as it hurt — and it did, like an open wound that never seemed to heal — you also knew, that night, that you had done the right thing by not giving your heart to her. Because it deserved more. You deserved more.

And even if you didn’t know it at the time, the universe was already setting someone aside for you — someone who would show you what it truly meant to be loved. Someone who would give you everything Maria never could.

As you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark, thoughts of Maria, the past, and all the pain you carried slowly began to fade, giving way to something much larger. Something overwhelming. Something that scared you, because it was Wanda.

Your heart seemed to beat to a different rhythm just thinking about her. It wasn’t just the way she looked at you — like you were something precious, something she was terrified to lose. It wasn’t just her touch, which somehow found every crack within you and began to fill them. It was all of that, yes, but it was so much more.

You turned onto your side, the crumpled sheets pressing against you, like the very space around you was tightening, pulling you deeper into yourself. Everything felt so distant, yet so close all at once. The silence of your room only amplified the confusion inside you. It was as if the world around you was moving in slow motion, while your thoughts stumbled over one another, chaotic and loud.

You tried to name what you were feeling, tried to label it, as you always did in order to understand the world. After all, everything had to have an explanation, right? You always needed an explanation for every small gesture, every word spoken, every glance exchanged. But now... now nothing seemed to fit.

What you felt for Wanda wasn’t just passion. It wasn’t something fleeting. It was far too vast, too deeply rooted to be dismissed so easily. It stretched beyond everything you could see, as if its roots ran through the very core of who you were. It wasn’t obsession — there was no frantic need, no fear of losing something you didn’t yet possess. There was no desperation. It was simply big. And, in a way, peaceful. Almost... complete.

You had always been someone who stood on the sidelines of things, someone who never felt entirely at ease in any place, with any person, with anything. You grew up alone, without a true home, without a sense of belonging. The orphanage, school, friends, parties... it all felt distant, like you were always observing from the outside, never truly a part of what was happening around you. It was always lonely, always feeling like a part of you was empty, a quiet space that could never be filled, because you didn’t even know what was missing.

Until Wanda entered your life.

Subtly. Silently. As though she had arrived to fill all those empty spaces you hadn’t even realized were there. And suddenly, there was a fit. Like that empty space, once so hollow and purposeless, had been made just for her. Like Wanda was the missing piece of the puzzle that was your existence.

But it wasn’t just that. It was more. It was her warmth, her protectiveness, the way she saw you — like you were unique, like there was no one else in the world who mattered as much as you did. And when she looked at you, it wasn’t just your face she saw; she looked deeper, as if seeing parts of you that even you didn’t know existed. Parts that belonged solely to her.

Wanda had a way of treating you that went beyond what you could have expected. She was warm, almost maternal, in a way that made your heart swell with a kind of comfort you’d never known. And yet, there was more to her than tenderness. There was something else in her actions — something that couldn’t be described as mere affection. It was as if she didn’t just love you; she wanted you. She wanted to possess you, to dominate you, to be the force that guided and protected you.

There were moments when her eyes hardened, her voice firm and commanding, guiding you down a path she believed to be right. Moments when she tested your patience, pushed your limits, and watched how far you would go to prove yourself. There was a discipline in her that both unsettled and thrilled you. And, deep down, you understood that her need to control wasn’t about power — it was about protection. By holding you in her hands, by claiming you as hers, she believed she was keeping you safe.

And then there were the softer moments, the moments when she showed herself vulnerable, desperate, like a woman who, upon finally having you to herself, feared losing what she had found. As if she were desperate to keep you, to have your heart, to earn your trust. It was as though she wanted you not just as a lover but as something more. As if you were hers entirely. You couldn’t quite understand what it all meant. What you knew was that when Wanda treated you that way—with that gentle touch, that smile of someone who felt in control—you didn’t feel intimidated. On the contrary, you felt cherished, loved, and protected in a way you had never experienced before.

And in moments like those, when she held you close, when your body was next to hers, you finally understood. It wasn’t about passion, nor about desire. It was about belonging. You felt something you’d never felt before—as if you were exactly where you were always meant to be. And despite the intensity of the emotions Wanda awakened in you, there was something comforting about it. Something that told you that, at last, you had found your place.

Your home, your family.

It wasn’t an ordinary relationship, nor something simple to understand. But it was real. And that was all you needed to know. The connection between you two was unique, profound, and layered with complexities you could barely comprehend. But it didn’t matter. Because in Wanda, you had finally found something you never knew you were looking for: belonging.

It felt like a discovery. Something long lost that suddenly fit perfectly, effortlessly, without haste. You caught yourself wondering, in an almost inaudible sigh: Is this what books call love?

But at the same time, something within you refused to allow that answer. Because love, in books, was always something grand, epic, filled with dramatic declarations and gestures that marked the end and beginning of a story. It was always cinematic, full of words and promises. What you felt for Wanda… wasn’t like that. There were no grand gestures, no words that could fully capture what existed between you. It was subtler, more intense, deeper—and because of that, so much harder to name.

It didn’t resemble anything you knew, nothing that could be summed up in a single phrase. It was the way she looked at you, the way she listened to you, the way her presence made everything feel calmer, clearer. It was the way she seemed to see you—a version of yourself you’d never known existed but that was undeniably there, within you. It was her smile, her touch, her energy, as if all of it was an extension of something that had always meant to be.

And what confused you most was that it didn’t feel like a choice. It didn’t feel like something you had controlled, nor something that had been planned. It wasn’t a feeling that arose because you thought about it or willed it into existence, but because somehow, it simply happened. As if it were inevitable.

But then you wondered: Why now? Why her? And at the same time, you felt no need for answers. You didn’t need to understand everything. Something bigger than you was at play, something broader than any logical explanation could offer. You and Wanda were simply… this. Something that defied explanation but undeniably existed. A truth you felt deep in your core, something that surpassed any doubt, any hesitation.

The days following that night were a tangle of emotions and sensations that defied all logic. It was as if an invisible thread, woven by something ancient and powerful, connected you to Wanda. A thread that tightened with every shared moment until it was impossible to tell where you ended and she began.

You started noticing the details. Small gestures that anyone else would overlook but were impossible for you to ignore: the way Wanda's breathing shifted when you entered a room, the slight furrow of her brow when she was lost in thoughts she didn’t share, the barely perceptible dance of her magic in the air when she felt vulnerable.

And then there were the feelings. They came in waves, overwhelming, strange, yet strangely familiar. It was as if Wanda were infiltrating you—beneath your skin, leaving pieces of herself in your mind and heart. You weren’t sure if it was intentional or just the natural result of the connection that seemed to grow stronger with each passing second.

One afternoon, as you reviewed the twins' materials in the library, you felt something different. An anguish that wasn’t yours but manifested in your chest as though it were. Wanda sat two tables away, a book open in her hands, but she wasn’t reading. Her eyes skimmed over the words unfocused, while her magic pulsed restlessly around her.

“Are you okay?” you asked, keeping your gaze on the papers before you, trying to sound casual.

Wanda froze. The silence that followed was as heavy as the air before a storm. “Why do you ask that?” Her voice was low, cautious.

You answered, turning to face her. “Are you nervous? Sad? I’m not sure, but it feels like it’s inside me too, like it’s mine.”

Her eyes narrowed, flickering with a hint of crimson. “Darling, I’m fine.” She closed the book with slow, deliberate movements and leaned slightly closer to you. “Do you feel what I feel?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yes. It’s strange, but at the same time… it feels so right.”

Time seemed to stand still in that moment, as if the library—with its sacred books and dusty shelves—had become a secret haven where the outside world ceased to exist. The silence between you was heavy yet brimming with a palpable energy. You were there, caught between words that could never fully describe what you felt, yet feeling every one of them transform into tangible reality.

For a moment, Wanda stayed silent before abruptly standing—as if giving you a cue to follow. Now, standing between shelves of books—a temple for a teacher and a student passionate about literature—it seemed she was searching for something within herself. Then, a shy smile curved her lips.

Wanda stood before you, her eyes fixed on yours as if she could see everything happening inside you. She seemed so calm, yet the power of her presence was overwhelming. She slowly closed the book, her hand moving with the grace of someone who controlled time itself, and as she did, the tension in the air seemed to intensify. She leaned toward you, the warmth of her breath the only sign she was alive—a flame on the verge of igniting.

“I feel you too,” she said, her voice carrying a depth that made your heart falter. “Your happiness, your sadness… even your thoughts. Especially when you’re thinking of me.”

Your face flushed, but you didn’t look away. You knew it was pointless to try hiding anything from her. Not anymore.

Wanda’s gaze held yours, her presence enveloping you, and something shifted at that moment. She wasn’t just the woman you wanted, the woman you craved, but also the woman you feared—the one who could destroy and rebuild everything inside you. She seemed to know that. She understood the power she held over you, but she also seemed as vulnerable as you were.

“What is it?” you asked, sitting beside her.

Wanda took her time to respond. The silence was charged but not empty; it was the silence of heavy thoughts, of words she struggled to form. Finally, she murmured, “You.”

The word sounded like a confession. Her eyes glowed—not just with scarlet magic but with something deeper, something human. “You’re all I think about, all I want. And that scares me more than anything I’ve ever faced.”

You took her hand, feeling the energy pulsing beneath her skin. “I feel it too. Honestly, it’s terrifying—I’ve never felt anything close to this for anyone—but it doesn’t mean it’s bad, does it?”

She let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it. “I… I should be stronger than this. I should be able to control it. But you…” She paused, her eyes locking with yours, heavy with an emotion that was almost crushing. “You make me want to give up control. And that terrifies me.”

Your heart raced. “Maybe this isn’t about control, Wanda. Maybe it’s about trust. About surrendering to what we are, together.”

When Wanda leaned in to kiss you, it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was fierce, filled with desire and urgency, as if it were the last kiss that mattered. She pulled you closer, her body pressing against yours as though she wanted to merge with you, as if nothing else mattered.

The softness of her lips quickly gave way to something more intense, more desperate. Wanda wasn’t testing the limits of your connection anymore; she was crossing them, seeking something only you could give her. Her hands moved to your face, touching your skin reverently, as though she wanted all of you but didn’t want to miss a single moment of this surrender.

Your hands followed suit, seeking the warmth of her body, finding refuge in her heated skin. One hand traveled up her side while the other clutched her blouse, pulling her even closer as if you needed something solid to ground you.

The kiss deepened, becoming more intense, more urgent, as though you were both trying to fill the emptiness in your lives—an emptiness you instinctively knew only the other could complete. The world around you faded, leaving only the touch, the heat, and the overwhelming desire to give yourselves completely.

Hidden among the library’s shelves, you and Wanda were both concealed and exposed in ways no one else could understand. The books surrounding you, filled with stories of love, passion, and loss, were now silent witnesses to a story being written in the intensity of your intertwined bodies and souls. And despite the uncertainty of the future, despite the lingering fear, you knew that in this moment, what mattered most was being together.

The aroma of fresh coffee and aged paper lingered in the air, creating an almost magical atmosphere that grew more intimate with every second. The professor’s words about Balzac danced in the air, but your thoughts were no longer on the writer’s words. They were on Wanda. The heat coursing through your body was indescribable—a strange sensation that consumed you, one you weren’t sure came from her, from you, or both, but one you couldn’t ignore.

The tension spread through the room like an invisible spell, and soon, Wanda’s anger became clear—a strong, palpable emotion you could feel in your bones. It was as if she were inside you, sharing her frustrations in a way that made them impossible to ignore.

"Excuse me," you whispered to the colleague beside you, standing quickly. The teacher shot you a curious look, but you didn’t care. You simply mumbled a hurried apology and rushed out of the room, your heart beating too fast, your steps quick but weighted with the urgency only Wanda could provoke in you.

Every beat of your heart carried you closer to her, and you knew, without hesitation, the only place you'd find her was in her office. When you reached the door, the sound of objects being abruptly moved tightened your stomach. Wanda's low, tense murmuring reached your ears, a wave of desperation mingled with frustration. Without delay, you knocked lightly but didn’t wait for permission to enter.

"Wanda?" Your voice came out hesitant, almost timid, as if you felt vulnerable in a space where the certainty of connection never failed, but the fear of loss lingered.

She stood with her back to you, her shoulders tense, and a pulse of scarlet energy surrounded her hands, creating almost uncontrollable waves—a raw, visceral reflection of her inner turmoil. It was rare to see Wanda like this, completely unrestrained. Her magic was so wild, so untamed. She turned abruptly, her eyes glowing a deep red, her lips slightly parted. But at the sight of you, the glow softened, and the magic around her hands dissipated like a veil.

"What are you doing here?" Wanda’s voice was low, muffled by tension, but there was a softness in it you recognized—a vulnerability hidden beneath the steel of her posture.

"I felt you." Your voice was direct but warm, laced with a sincerity only she could draw out of you. "You’re angry. What happened?"

She looked away, crossing her arms in a defensive gesture, an attempt to shield herself. But you knew her—you knew every movement, every nuance. Wanda couldn’t lie to you. "It's nothing... just trivial things."

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer to her cautiously. "Wanda, I was sitting there, lost in Balzac’s romances, and I felt your anger, your frustration, as if it were my own. This isn’t 'trivial.'"

She let out a short laugh, but there was no humor in it—it was bitter. "You feel everything, don’t you?" Her voice carried something you couldn’t identify, but you knew it was more than she let on.

"Yes." You took a deep breath, the weight of your sincerity growing heavier between you both. "I always have, and you know that. And you also know you can’t hide anything from me."

Finally, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing as she ran a hand through her hair, messing it almost absentmindedly. "It's ridiculous. A meeting with the twins' school directors... They questioned my criticisms of the teaching methods in their classes. As if I were incompetent, as if I didn’t know what’s best for them."

You felt the heat of her anger bridge the space between you. It was like an electric current passing through your bodies. Without a second thought, you took another step forward, reaching out to touch her arm—a simple gesture, but one loaded with meaning.

"They’re wrong," you stated firmly, your eyes fixed on hers, conveying a strength only she could draw out of you. "You’re the most brilliant and capable woman I know. No one has the right to make you doubt that."

Wanda’s gaze softened. She seemed like she wanted to protest, but the force of your words silenced her. Relief flickered across her face, though something heavy still lingered—something she didn’t want to admit, even to herself. "You make it sound so simple," she murmured, her voice so low you had to step closer to hear her. "Simple and... easy."

You gave her a soft smile—not one of pity, but of understanding—touching her arm gently. "Because it is, Wanda. What you need to do is let yourself believe it. Now, what do you need? Because I’m here, and you don’t have to carry this alone."

Wanda stayed silent, studying you with an intensity that made heat rise to your cheeks. Finally, she gave a small smile.

"I just need you," she said, and the simplicity of her words made your heart race.

You nodded, allowing yourself a shy smile in return. "Then you have me."

Wanda let out a soft laugh, a sound that reverberated low in your chest as she pulled her chair closer to you. Her gaze was indecipherable—a mix of amusement and something deeper you couldn’t name.

"Come here," she said, her voice low but filled with authority, as she patted her lap lightly.

You blinked, surprised, feeling heat flood your face. "You want me to... sit on your lap?"

"I do," she replied, the certainty in her voice leaving no room for argument. "Now."

With a mock sigh of resignation, one that couldn’t hide the smile forming on your lips, you stepped closer and settled into Wanda’s lap. The warmth of her body was comforting, like a sanctuary only she could provide. Her hands rested firmly on your waist, adjusting you until you felt entirely comfortable yet vulnerable—exposed in a way only she could make intimate.

Your arms wrapped around her instinctively, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if you had no choice but to surrender to this closeness, this touch. And somehow, it gave you a sense of belonging—a deep, irrational belonging you hadn’t known you desired so much.

"You’re so bossy," you murmured, trying to mask your shyness with a hint of teasing. But your words came out laced with a sweetness that made your surrender feel voluntary, though unspoken.

Wanda arched an eyebrow, her usual sharp gaze softened by the slow smile tugging at her lips. Tilting her head slightly, she said in a voice as much a promise as it was a challenge, "Bossy, hmm? Maybe. But you like it, don’t you?"

There were no words to deny it, no room left to resist. Wanda’s presence enveloped you with a quiet force, and you couldn’t hide from what you felt anymore.

You didn't know if it was the way she effortlessly had the ability to control you or the way she made it feel so natural, so safe. There were no more words to deny it, no more room to resist. Wanda was drawing you into her presence with the force of a silent magnetism, and you could no longer hide from what you felt.

She sighed, a deep breath that seemed to carry all the tension of her thoughts. Wanda had a unique way of keeping everything under control, but you could feel the anxiety she tried to hide—the immense desire to see you graduate soon, to make your lives together a reality. She wanted the future to be now, for you both to be definitively together. Thoughts of marriage, traveling, building something solid. But more than that, she wanted to have your child. The thought consumed her, but it was a desire she didn’t know how to fulfill.

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words died in your throat when Wanda began cradling you gently, her hands moving up and down your back in a soothing gesture. It was comforting, but also strangely vulnerable, as if you’d been reduced to something small and precious under her touch.

“Are all ‘Wandas’ like this?” you asked, more to fill the silence than out of real curiosity.

Her eyes gleamed with a subtle red, and you almost felt her thought before she spoke. “All the ‘Wandas’?”

You hesitated, realizing the depth of the question you’d just asked. “I mean... all versions of you… are they like this? So stubborn, so... intense?”

She laughed again, but this time there was something darker behind the sound. “Perhaps. But the real question is: are all versions of you like this? So headstrong, so brave... so ready to stand against me and then yield?”

The heat on your face intensified, but you didn’t look away. Instead, you let her question echo in your mind. What if... all versions of us were like this? Two opposing forces that, even in different worlds, always found a path to collision—and then connection.

“Do you think we’re always like this? Stuck in this cycle?” you asked, your voice a whisper.

Wanda tilted her head, her fingers tracing slow circles on your back. “Maybe it’s not a cycle,” she said softly. “Maybe it’s a choice we make, life after life. Maybe we’re destined for this... because we want to be.”

Her words resonated within you, like a key turning in an ancient lock. Something clicked, and you knew, with inexplicable certainty, that she was right.

You let your head fall against her shoulder, closing your eyes as you felt her warmth completely envelop you. “Whatever the reason... I think I never want to choose anything but this. You’re perfect. Perfect for me.”

Wanda pulled you closer, her chin resting lightly on top of your head. “Then always choose me,” she murmured.

Wanda fell silent, her gaze deep and attentive, as if trying to read something inside you, something she didn’t fully understand yet. Her expression carried an intensity you could barely bear. Warmth rose to your face, and your chest tightened with an uncomfortable sensation, almost as if the weight of her emotions was spilling over and affecting your own body.

The tension between you, built over the minutes, wasn’t just physical. It was something deeper, more visceral. You felt the pain Wanda tried to hide, and for a moment, everything fell silent, as if time had stopped.

Wanda looked away, breathing heavily, as if trying to regain control. Her tense, anxious body was still close to yours, but she seemed lost in her own thoughts. The concern for the future, the desire to build something solid with you, consumed every part of her mind.

Then, a strong, almost painful feeling grew in her chest. Wanda no longer wanted to hide what she felt. She didn’t know how to deal with it, with this immense longing to have a life with you, to start a family, but at the same time, the fear of not knowing how to make it happen.

You, feeling the same pressure in your chest, brought a hand to it, as if trying to hold back the ache forming there as well. Your eyes filled with tears, and the tension in your body was palpable. “Wanda... are you okay?” you asked, your voice trembling, unsure of what else to say.

Wanda froze at the sound of your voice. Her shoulders trembled slightly, and a sigh that sounded more like a sob escaped her lips. She shook her head but didn’t speak immediately. The silence that followed was heavy, oppressive, as if she were fighting something consuming her from the inside out.

“No... no, I’m not,” she finally admitted, her voice almost inaudible, broken by a vulnerability she rarely let show. Her green eyes glistened with tears she refused to shed, but you could see the storm inside her.

“I... I don’t know how it’s possible to love someone this much,” she whispered, her fingers gripping her own arms, as if trying to anchor herself to reality. “It’s so strong it hurts.”

You felt your heart tighten. You had never seen Wanda like this: so raw, so exposed. She had always been a fortress, a woman who faced the world with unshakable determination. But now, in front of you, she seemed so human, so scared.

“I have so many enemies,” she continued, her voice even weaker, her eyes lost in the void. “What if they find out about you? What if they hurt you because they know I... because they know how much you mean to me?”

Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling irregularly. It was as if the weight of all her fears was collapsing on her all at once.

You stepped closer, hesitant but determined. “Wanda, look at me,” you asked, your voice soft but firm. When she finally lifted her eyes to meet yours, you held her face in your hands, your thumbs gently stroking her cheeks.

“Breathe with me,” you said, guiding her with your own rhythm, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. Wanda tried to follow, at first failing, but gradually managing to control her breathing.

“I’m here,” you continued, your voice low and comforting. “And no one will take me away from you. Not as long as you’re by my side.”

Wanda closed her eyes, letting a few more tears escape. “But I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” she admitted, almost in a whisper.

You felt the weight of those words, but instead of responding directly, you pulled her into a tight embrace. “You don’t have to face this alone,” you said, your voice close to her ear. “We’re in this together, Wanda. Together.”

Her body relaxed against yours, and you felt her surrender to the comfort of the moment. The anxiety consuming her was still there, but at least for now, she could feel that she wasn’t alone.

“I just need you,” she murmured again, her tone softer now, as if the words carried a vulnerability she rarely allowed herself. She didn’t know what the future held, but she knew with absolute certainty that you were the answer she was searching for.

You closed your eyes, absorbing the intensity of the moment. "I need you too, Wanda. In every way... now and always."

And in that instant, wrapped in a tight embrace and the silence surrounding them, both knew they were sharing something rare and precious—a love so immense that it only grew stronger with each obstacle, each doubt, and most importantly, each choice they made to stay together.

[...]

The house was enveloped in a comforting silence, the kind that only comes after a full day. Wanda carefully closed the twins' bedroom door, her heart warmed by the sight of her sleeping children. This was a ritual she never abandoned, an anchor in her chaotic, magical life. Every night, she tucked them in with the care of someone who knew the value of small moments of peace.

She descended the stairs, her bare feet nearly silent against the wooden floor, and made her way to the living room. Sitting on the couch, Wanda stared into the void for a moment, her thoughts heavy like an impending storm. Something within her was changing—not something recent, but something that had been growing over time, slowly taking shape. The sense that an essential part of her destiny lay elsewhere.

The sound of the lock turning pulled her back to reality. The front door opened, revealing Vision. He entered with his usual serene posture, but his eyes immediately caught the mood in the room.

“Wanda,” he greeted softly, closing the door behind him. “The boys are asleep?”

She nodded. “Like angels.”

Vision smiled, but the smile faded when he noticed her expression. He stepped closer, pulling up a chair and sitting across from her. “Is something wrong?”

She took a deep breath. “Vision, we need to talk.”

His face didn’t change, but a flicker of concern passed through his eyes. He leaned slightly forward. “I’m listening.”

Wanda clasped her hands in her lap, searching for the right words. “I… I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About what we have, what we share. And I realize that, while we’ve built a life together, something is missing.”

Vision frowned, confused. “Missing? Wanda, we have the boys. We have… everything we’ve built.”

She looked at him, her eyes glistening with tears. “Yes, and I cherish every moment. Every memory. You’ve given me more than I could ever ask for. But I can’t ignore… this feeling. That our time together wasn’t meant to be forever. That there’s something else waiting for me. And for you.”

He was silent, processing her words. Finally, he tilted his head slightly, a curious expression forming. “You believe this is about destiny?”

She nodded. “I believe there are paths we’re meant to follow. And, while I’ve loved you with all that I am, our path together is… coming to an end.”

For a moment, Vision remained silent. But to Wanda’s surprise, he didn’t show anger or hurt. Instead, his eyes softened, and a small smile appeared on his lips. “Wanda, you know how much I value your honesty. But I also value your happiness. I always have.”

She blinked, surprised. “So, you understand?”

“Yes,” he said, taking her hands. “Because, deep down, I knew too. I knew that, no matter how beautiful what we created was, it wasn’t meant to last forever. This isn’t about us or this world. It’s about destiny.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, but it was a tear of relief. “Vision, I never wanted to hurt you.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t hurt me. You gave me something few ever experience: the privilege of loving and being loved, even if only for a time. And more than that, you gave me the boys. They are the best part of us.”

She smiled, squeezing his hands. “You are… incredible. I don’t know how to thank you for understanding.”

Vision stood, pulling her into an embrace. “There’s no need to thank me, Wanda. We were a beautiful story. And even though the ending is now, it doesn’t diminish the value of what we had.”

When they pulled apart, Vision looked at her with a gentle sparkle in his eyes. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” Wanda replied.

“Be happy. Wherever destiny takes you, with whomever destiny brings to you, be happy. You deserve that.”

Wanda nodded, feeling the weight of the moment but also the lightness of knowing that even in their goodbye, there was love. And as Vision left, she remained there, in the silent living room, sensing that something new—and inevitable—was about to begin.

[...]

The night was calm, filled with laughter and lively chatter in the dorm. Yelena, Kate, Bucky, and Darcy were all there, immersed in yet another movie marathon. The atmosphere was cozy and light, a perfect contrast to the storm outside. Rain poured heavily, pattering against the windows and creating a soothing sound that matched the setting.

The room was a cozy mess: scattered cushions, nearly empty popcorn buckets, and a blanket or two being fiercely claimed as sacred territory. Kate, ever energetic, stood in front of the TV with the remote in hand, waving it dramatically like a royal scepter.

“All right, listen up, peasants!” she began, with an exaggerated attempt at authority. “Tonight, I pick the movie because I am clearly the most reasonable one here.”

Yelena, comfortably sprawled in an armchair, rolled her eyes as she stuffed more popcorn into her mouth. “Reasonable? You thought Fast & Furious 7 was a historical drama.”

“Hey! It was about family!” Kate retorted, pointing the remote at Yelena as if challenging her to a duel.

Darcy, curled up on the couch under an enormous blanket, raised her hand. “I vote for something with aliens. Maybe Men in Black? Always good to revisit a classic.”

Bucky huffed, sunk into the corner of the couch, guarding a bowl of popcorn like it was a relic. “Why not something serious? Like… I don’t know, The Godfather. Teaches important life lessons.”

“You only want to watch that because you think it’s a kind of autobiography, Mr. Mafia Soldier,” Yelena teased, laughing as she tossed a piece of popcorn at him.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, not even bothering to dodge. “At least it’s not another teen musical someone suggested last week.”

Kate threw her hands up in protest. “Hey! High School Musical is a masterpiece.”

“Okay, guys, focus!” you intervened, trying to contain the growing chaos. “Why don’t we settle this fairly? A vote.”

“Voting is for cowards,” Yelena declared, rising from her chair and stretching her arms. “Let’s settle this with arm wrestling. Winner picks the movie.”

Darcy laughed. “Great plan, Yelena. Except that kind of favors a certain super-soldier in the room.”

Bucky shrugged with a subtle smile. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Or,” you tried again, sighing, “we could just draw names from a hat?”

Kate was already swinging the remote like a lightsaber. “No way! I want a charades duel. Best movie scene wins.”

The confusion only grew. Between clumsy miming, Yelena insisting Shrek was the best movie of all time, and Darcy proposing to watch all the trailers before deciding, you all ended up… back where you started.

“So, High School Musical?” Kate asked hopefully after all the chaos.

“No,” everyone replied in unison.

In the end, you finally settled on The Avengers—because, of course, there’s nothing like watching your own fictional selves in action to end the night.

You were distracted, laughing at your friends’ jokes, but something on your phone caught your attention. It was a message from Wanda.

“It’s over. Vision and I. Can I have you all to myself now?”

The screen illuminated her face in the dimness of the room, and you felt a mix of conflicting emotions. The first was a wave of pleasure, an internal satisfaction, as if an important piece of your destiny had perfectly clicked into place. But immediately after, a knot tightened in your stomach. Wanda was undoubtedly sad. She had shared a life with Vision, with her children, and that wasn’t easy. Nothing about the end of something so significant could ever be simple.

You didn’t think twice. “Guys, I need to step out for a bit.”

“Y/n, it’s past midnight!” Yelena exclaimed, looking at you with concern. “You’re going out in this weather?”

“Y/n, it’s raining out there!” Darcy added, her voice filled with worry. “You’ll catch a cold!”

You ignored their warnings. Nothing at that moment could stop the urgency you felt in your skin. Wanda needed you. She was breaking, and you couldn’t stay there, safe and comfortable, while she faced the emotional storm alone.

Without offering further explanations, you got up and grabbed your bike. The rain was already pouring heavily when you left the building, but you didn’t care. The sensation of cold water hitting your face was a small distraction from the storm raging inside you. You pedaled nonstop, your thoughts jumping from one to another but always circling back to the same conclusion: Wanda needed you now more than ever.

The journey to her house seemed longer than it actually was. Raindrops sprayed through the air, making the night even darker and more intense. By the time you reached Wanda’s house, your hair was soaked, and your clothes clung to your body, but what mattered was that you were there.

You knocked on the door, your heart racing in anticipation, and soon she opened it. Your eyes met, and Wanda, who looked surprised, hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to let you in.

“Y/n…” Her voice was heavy with something hard to decipher, a mix of vulnerability and something else she was trying to hide.

You stepped inside, removing your wet jacket, your steps silent on the cold floor of the entryway. The house was too quiet, the soft lighting illuminating the space, but everything felt... heavy, as if the finality of something had settled in the air.

“What are you doing here?” Wanda said, her voice slightly trembling. She stood in the living room, her shoulders slumped as if the weight of the night had entirely overtaken her.

You hesitated for a moment, still trying to organize your thoughts and the flood of emotions coursing through your chest. "You wanted me all to yourself, didn’t you?" you said, your voice softer than you expected. "And I... I felt I had to come."

Her eyes found yours again, and you saw she was fighting back tears. She looked so vulnerable, stripped of all the strength that usually surrounded her. Without the armor of control you were used to, she was just... Wanda. And that made your heart ache.

“I didn’t want you to come like this,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Not in this rain. Not like this.”

You stepped forward slowly, feeling the tension in the air grow with every movement. “And you think I could stay home knowing that you—my other half—are going through this alone?”

Wanda looked at your hands, her eyes lingering on the contact. It was such a small gesture, yet so full of meaning. When she finally lifted her gaze to meet yours, there was something different there—a flicker of hope, perhaps, or relief.

“You’re soaked,” she murmured, almost distractedly, but there was a tenderness in her tone that tightened your chest. “Come. Let’s get you out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold.”

She guided you to the sofa, grabbing a blanket on the way. You sat down, still trembling slightly—not from the cold, but from something deeper. As Wanda knelt to wrap the warm fabric around you, her fingers brushed your skin briefly, and you noticed her eyes lingering on yours again.

“Thank you for coming,” she finally said, her voice a bit steadier now but still loaded with emotion. “I... I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you replied with a small smile. And in that moment, even with the storm outside and the chaos within, there was a strange calm between you two—as if, for an instant, everything was exactly where it was meant to be.

You leaned in slightly, feeling the warmth of the house contrasting with the cold lingering on your body. But more than that, you felt the warmth of Wanda’s presence, and it was enough to melt any remaining hesitation within you.

“I’m here,” you said, your smile more a promise than just a reaction. “No matter what’s happened, I’m here, Wanda.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, as if allowing herself a breath, and then looked at you, her gaze intense and filled with emotions you couldn’t ignore. She took a step forward, the distance between you disappearing almost immediately.

“I... I don’t know what to do with this, Y/n,” Wanda said, her voice low and sorrowful. “This part of me, this thing I carried for so long, it’s just... gone. And now I’m staring into a void. But you... you’re everything I want. Everything I’ve ever wanted. I can’t deny that.”

You took her hand, guiding her to the sofa, where you both sat close but still holding onto the emotional distance Wanda had tried to maintain all this time. But now, that distance was fading.

“You don’t have to do anything, Wanda,” you said, gently stroking her hand. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. We’re here. And that’s what matters.”

The silence between you was comfortable yet heavy. There was no need for more words. You both knew what was happening. And even with the rain outside, the memories of Vision, and the painful ending she had just faced, in that moment, Wanda wasn’t alone. And you would make sure she always knew that.

Wanda looked at you again, her eyes seeming to hold the entire universe—so intense, so full of conflicting emotions. The shadows of pain were still there, but there was something else, something beginning to emerge as a subtle glow in the darkness.

“You’re the only thing that makes sense right now,” she whispered, almost as if confessing a secret even she hadn’t realized she carried. “You scare me... because you’re everything I never knew I needed. But you’re also the one thing I don’t want to lose.”

Your heart raced at her words. There was so much power and vulnerability in them, and you knew this was the moment. Taking a deep breath, you lifted a hand to gently touch her face, your fingers tracing invisible lines on her soft skin.

“I love you, Wanda,” you said, your voice firm but brimming with emotion. Your eyes locked onto hers, diving into that green expanse that now seemed to shine even brighter. “I love you with everything I am. With your fears, with your mistakes, with every part of who you are. And nothing in this world can change that.”

You saw her pupils dilate instantly at your words. It was as if the air around you shifted, becoming denser, more charged with something both terrifying and indescribably beautiful.

Wanda's magic manifested almost uncontrollably, wrapping the two of you in a delicate aura, with subtle sparks and an intoxicating scent that seemed to reflect her very essence. You felt the tiny, shimmering particles touch your skin, like soft tickles igniting every part of your being.

Wanda didn’t speak immediately. She simply looked at you, her eyes glistening with tears that threatened to fall but were held back with her usual intensity. Then, with a slowness that seemed to carry the weight of the world, she placed her hand over yours, still resting on her face, holding it there as if she wanted to etch this moment into eternity.

"You don’t know what you’ve just done to me," she whispered, her voice hoarse and filled with emotion. "I didn’t know I could love like this... I didn’t know it was possible."

Wanda rested her forehead against yours, her eyes closed as the sparks of her magic continued to dance around you. The silence was full, laden with everything that didn’t need to be said but was present in the air.

When she finally opened her eyes, the soft, vulnerable smile she gave you warmed your heart in a way that words couldn’t describe. "I love you," she whispered, as if surrendering the last of her defenses to you. "And I feel so happy..."

You closed the distance between you in a kiss that was delicate and laden with something—love.

The kiss was more than just a gesture. It felt as though time and space had bent around you, creating a world where only the warmth of her lips, the softness of her touch, and the unique essence of your souls intertwined existed. The love between you wasn’t simple. It was dense, heavy with past stories, scars, and unspoken desires that were finally finding a place to be expressed.

Wanda felt her magic pulse to the rhythm of her heart, as if every particle around her vibrated with the force of the emotion threatening to overflow. It was terrifying and yet breathtaking. This wasn’t ordinary love, linear or easy to comprehend. No, it transcended words or explanations. It was like an ancient melody, something that had always existed, just waiting for the right moment to be heard.

When the kiss ended, Wanda kept her eyes closed, taking a deep breath, as if trying to capture that moment within herself. "Do you feel it?" she asked, her voice a reverent whisper.

You nodded because you did. You felt as though you were connected to something greater, something that couldn’t be explained. It was as if the universe had leaned in to create this connection, this bond that defied reason yet was the only thing that felt right in the world.

"It’s like… magic," you replied, and Wanda chuckled softly, a sound full of emotion.

"It’s more than magic," she said, her green eyes shining with a mix of reverence and intensity. "It’s you. It’s what you’ve brought to me, what you’ve awakened in me. I didn’t know I could feel this again—something so powerful it seems to consume everything around me."

Silence settled once more, but this time it wasn’t heavy—just the calm after a storm. You held her hand, your fingers entwined as if they were meant to find each other. The love you shared was a force of its own, something that seemed to flow around you, pulsing, breathing, growing.

There, under the soft light and with Wanda’s magic still dancing in the air, you knew you had found something beyond description or containment. It was a love that transcended everything—a love that was both mystical and real, powerful and delicate. And as Wanda’s eyes glimmered with that touch of red that seemed to illuminate her very soul, you knew you loved the most powerful witch—and the only one—you’d ever known.

~*~

I just want a love like this 🥺🤏🏻

Tag list <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @trindad2k

@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Literaries references today, huh? I hope you like it.

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Warning: +18, NSFW, Dirty talk, feet fetish

Summary: The witch makes you hers, finally.

Hey! Now I've a masterlist

POETRY

The days after the camp were a mixture of tension and inevitability. You and Wanda seemed to orbit each other, like planets drawn by the gravity of something far greater than either of you was willing to admit.

In the classroom, the glances between you two grew more intense. Sometimes, you could feel her gaze fixed on you, so burning that it was impossible not to shiver. Once, while reading aloud, your voice faltered because Wanda tilted her head subtly, her green eyes evaluating every detail of you as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

The atmosphere felt heavy, as if the air was thick with something no one could explain, but which you felt deeply.

You felt her gaze land on you from time to time. It wasn’t just any look—it was something burning, filled with intensity, as if she were waiting for you to do something, anything, to draw her attention even more.

The classroom was immersed in an almost reverent silence, except for Wanda Maximoff’s soft voice as she read a passage from Crime and Punishment. She moved between the desks with a copy of the book in hand, the afternoon light streaming through the windows and illuminating her red hair like a profane halo.

“‘Man has become so accustomed to reasoning about everything and always on the basis of arguments that he has forgotten it is also possible to argue against his own arguments.’” She closed the book with a gentle motion, but the snap of the cover echoed through the room like a warning.

Her eyes rose to the students but landed on you with surgical precision. A familiar heat climbed your neck, and you looked away, pretending to jot something in your notebook.

"Y/n," she called, and your heart nearly stopped. "What’s your interpretation of this passage?"

You lifted your eyes slowly, feeling the weight of her stare. Wanda tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a smile that only you could decipher: provocation, curiosity, and something much deeper.

"Well..." you began, trying to keep your voice steady. "Maybe it’s about how people can rationalize even what they know is wrong. Justifying the unjustifiable. A kind of... psychological game, maybe."

She narrowed her eyes, clearly amused. "Interesting. But do you think it’s just a game? That there are no consequences for those who play it?"

The hidden meaning behind her words hit you like a blow. Your defiant gaze met hers, and a tense silence filled the room.

"That depends," you replied, holding her gaze. "Some games are worth the risk. As long as the players are willing to go all the way."

The students exchanged confused glances, feeling the weight in the air but unable to grasp the true reason.

Yelena, sitting two seats over, raised an exaggerated eyebrow, her eyes darting between you and Wanda as if trying to piece together a complicated puzzle. She leaned toward Bucky, who was on the other side, and whispered: “What the hell is she doing?”

Bucky bit the end of his pen, clearly trying not to laugh. “No idea, but... this is weird as hell.”

"Weird?" Yelena rolled her eyes. "This is a show. Don’t you feel it? It’s like watching a Russian soap opera, but without subtitles."

Bucky gave her a light slap on the arm, stifling a laugh. “Shut up; Bishop’s taking notes. She might sell the script later.”

Kate, sitting further back, looked at them with a mock-indignant expression. “I’m here trying to understand Dostoevsky, and you two are commentating like it’s halftime at a game?”

Yelena shrugged, gesturing toward the teacher. “Sorry, but Maximoff’s looking at Y/n like she’s about to eat her. How do you expect us to focus?”

You heard the whispers and felt your face heat even more, but you didn’t dare turn to face them. Instead, you focused on Wanda, who seemed perfectly unaware of the murmurs—or, more likely, ignored them because she was too busy teasing you.

Yelena crossed her arms, a mischievous grin forming on her lips. “This is gonna go south, Buck.”

Bucky snorted. “It’s already gone south. What’s left is how far.”

Wanda couldn’t deny it—you were a daring little brat. Too clever for your own good, confident in a way that made her skin prickle with irritation—and something darker, more visceral. It was like watching someone play a dangerous game without understanding the stakes. And yet, it drew her in, making her fingers itch with need.

"Interesting perspective, Y/n," Wanda said, her voice low, almost lazy, as she approached your desk. Each step seemed calculated, and the sound of her heels on the floor reverberated through the room like the tick of a countdown clock. She stopped beside you, close enough for you to feel her warmth, and tilted her head with an enigmatic smile. "But sometimes, it’s worth remembering that some players might not be as prepared as they think. Wouldn’t you agree?"

You lifted your eyes to her, meeting the gaze that seemed determined to unravel you completely. “Sometimes you just have to play to find out how far you can go,” you murmured, your voice firm, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed your vulnerability.

Wanda felt a wave of desire and frustration mingle. How dare you? Here, in front of everyone, with no fear. She wanted to smile, but the control she needed to exert was like a tight chain around her will. Her instincts screamed to put you in your place, to shatter that confidence that challenged her at every turn.

She stepped back with the same calculated calm, but inside, she felt the tension pulsing through every cell. Her fingers tingled with the desire to trace your jawline, to replace that defiant smile with something softer, more submissive.

The room seemed to hold its breath, every student frozen in the moment, unsure of what exactly was happening. But Wanda knew. And you knew. And, in that instant, she promised herself that the lesson she’d mentioned would be taught—intensely, memorably, and entirely on her terms.

Then, the shrill sound of the bell echoed through the room, and the students began to rise, packing their things as the buzz of conversation grew. You prepared to leave too, but before you could take more than two steps, Wanda passed by you, her intoxicating perfume filling the air.

She leaned in slightly, her lips almost brushing your ear, and murmured low but firm: “My office. Now.”

The commanding tone made your legs tremble, and you barely managed to gather your notebooks, each movement hesitant and clumsy. When you arrived at her office, the atmosphere felt stiflingly charged. The door barely closed behind you before Wanda turned and crossed the space with quick steps.

Without warning, her hands grabbed your arms, pulling you close, your back colliding with the wooden desk. The sound of objects shifting on impact seemed insignificant compared to the weight of the moment.

"How dare you?" Wanda whispered, her voice low yet brimming with authority and something more—something that made every cell in your body vibrate.

Her hands were firm and possessive against your body, exploring without hesitation, marking you with her heavy touch. Her eyes glowed with a hypnotic red, and you felt as though you were being pulled into an abyss.

You should have apologized, should have yielded, but instead, your hand reached up, cupping her face as you pulled her into an urgent and dominating kiss. Your lips collided as if the world were ending, as if time was too fleeting for hesitation.

Wanda responded with a low growl, her fingers gripping your waist tightly enough to leave marks. Her taste was intoxicating—a blend of control and desire that made your head spin. You felt like you were drowning in the red sea that was Wanda Maximoff, and there was nothing in the world you wanted more than to lose yourself completely in that ocean.

The room seemed to vibrate with the energy radiating from Wanda. Objects around you began to tremble, then levitate. Books, chairs, and even the desk started floating in the air, swirling in a chaotic vortex of pure power.

Wanda pushed you further against the desk as she herself seemed consumed by the intensity of her emotions. Her hand moved to encircle your neck, her fingers firm but calculated, as if she measured her strength precisely.

"You're such a naughty girl..." her voice was low, husky, almost a purr. "It drives me crazy to—"

Her sentence broke off, her breath ragged as her eyes burned a vivid red. The scarlet hue spread throughout the room, enveloping everything. You felt a wave of heat and power coursing through the space, making your skin tingle.

Her hands on your neck were firm, possessive, but far from cruel. The control Wanda maintained, even with her powers teetering on the edge of chaos, was overwhelmingly impressive. The pressure was just enough to make you feel small, vulnerable—exactly as she wanted.

"I should punish you for being so defiant," she continued, her voice dripping with desire and authority, her fingers tightening slightly as she tilted her head to watch you with hungry eyes. "You provoke me, and now... you should face the consequences, don't you think, little one?"

The chaos in the room intensified. Books flew open, pages ripping through the magical crimson wind, chairs spinning in the air, and the sound of furniture crashing against walls was muffled by the pounding of your heartbeat. It was mesmerizing—the woman before you truly powerful.

And you knew you should fear her.

But you weren't afraid. The heat rising through your body was more intense than anything else, an intoxicating blend of submission and excitement. You met Wanda's eyes, making it clear you didn't want to stop.

Her smile was predatory, satisfied, as she leaned in to claim your mouth again. The kiss was overwhelming, a reflection of the storm around you, and you lost yourself in it, lost in the red sea that was Wanda Maximoff.

You gasped when Wanda finally loosened her grip on your neck, but the red glow in her eyes still burned. Your mind was a mess, every part of your body pulsing in response to her touch. But you didn't want to surrender completely—not yet.

"Is that all you've got?" The words slipped out before you could think, your tone full of provocation. Your chest heaved, adrenaline mixed with desire coursing through every fiber of your being.

Her smile vanished for a moment, replaced by something far more dangerous. Her eyes narrowed as she pulled you even closer, your bodies practically pressed together. "You really want to play with fire, my little girl?"

"Maybe," you replied, feeling the heat rise to your face. "Or maybe I just think the Scarlet Witch isn't all she's cracked up to be."

Her reaction was instant. The red in the room exploded in intensity, and for a moment, it seemed like the very air vibrated. Her hands released your body, but only because she took a step back, her gaze fixed on you as if deciding what to do.

A whirlwind formed around your bodies, lifting you slightly off the ground.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with," she whispered, but there was something deeper in her voice, a tone that didn’t belong solely to Wanda.

That’s when you saw it. The red in her eyes intensified, her pupils consumed by the scarlet glow. Her posture shifted, her shoulders straighter, her head tilted in a way that exuded pure power.

"Oh, you wanted to play, didn't you?" Her voice was different, deeper, laden with an energy that made your knees tremble. "Now you have my full attention."

Your breath hitched as the Scarlet Witch stepped forward, her power so palpable it weighed down the air.

She raised a hand, and you were pulled closer without her needing to touch you. Her gaze was locked onto yours, both challenging and ravenous. "Now tell me, little rebel," she teased, her smile almost cruel. "Is this what you wanted? The real me?"

You swallowed hard but still found the strength to respond. "Maybe I just wanted to see how far you'd go."

Her laugh echoed through the room, low and dangerous, as the chaos around you intensified. "You have no idea, my dear. But I'll show you. Slowly. Until you can't take it anymore."

She extended a hand, the crimson glow dancing at her fingertips as the world around you seemed to vanish, leaving only you and her in the eye of a scarlet storm.

"I bet you were crazy for this too," Wanda murmured against your neck as she marked it with her teeth. "God— I can smell you from here."

Wanda's kiss was devastating, a collision of desire and possessiveness that left you utterly breathless. Your lips moved against hers with overwhelming intensity, as if the entire world had vanished, leaving only her. When you finally pulled apart, a thread of saliva, glistening and tinged crimson, connected you—a vivid reminder of the fervor you had shared.

You felt like you were in heaven, in a place no one had ever taken you before. Your heart pounded in your chest, your entire body trembling from a mix of excitement and shock. Wanda's hands roamed boldly over your body, leaving a trail of heat wherever they touched.

But then reality hit you like a cold wave. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right with Vision, with her children, and not even with yourself.

“Wanda, wait," you murmured, your voice trembling as you grasped her wrist, halting her touch that was making your head spin.

It took her a moment to process your words, her red eyes still blazing with raw energy. Her primal instincts were on full display, and for a moment, it seemed as though she couldn’t hear anything beyond the call of her own hunger.

"What now?" she whispered, her voice hoarse, still dripping with desire.

"This... isn’t right," you stammered, your eyes filled with a mix of guilt and confusion. "Vision, the boys... you..."

Wanda blinked, as if your words had finally pierced through her haze. The red glow in her eyes gradually dimmed, the intensity giving way to something more human—something more painful.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, pulling away from you, her hands still trembling. She ran a hand through her hair, messing it up as she tried to compose herself. "Shit, shit, shit."

The frustration in her voice was palpable, but there was also something else—a guilt buried deep, like a twisted knife in her chest.

"You promised you’d sort things out soon!" you burst out, your voice louder than you intended, but the frustration that had been building for days needed release. "I’m here, Wanda. I’m waiting for you. And in the meantime, I’m stuck in this limbo, not knowing what’s real or what you want from me!"

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the silence between you was heavy as lead. Then Wanda took a step back, her fists clenched, but her gaze still fixed on you.

"You think this is easy for me?" Her voice was low, almost a growl. "You think I don’t think about this every second? That I don’t want to throw everything away and just... take you away? Make you mine?"

You swallowed hard but didn’t back down. "Then why don’t you? Why keep playing with me like I’m just... another piece on your chessboard?"

Wanda laughed, but it was hollow, devoid of humor. "Because it’s not just about you and me, Y/n! Do you understand what’s at stake here? My life. My children. My reputation. Everything I’ve built could fall apart because of this."

"And what about me?!" you shot back, tears stinging your eyes, though you refused to let them fall. "Am I the only one who has to carry this alone? To deal with the guilt, the doubt, the desire? Because it feels like while you can have me and still keep everything intact, I only have you."

Wanda hesitated, and for the first time, you saw something like vulnerability in her eyes. But it was fleeting, replaced quickly by the fire you knew so well.

"You think I don’t feel the same?" she asked, stepping closer to you again, her voice softer but loaded with emotion. "You think I’m not drowning in this as much as you are?"

"Then why does it feel like I’m the only one losing control?" you murmured, your voice now shaky.

Wanda sighed, running a hand through her hair, as though trying to pull herself together but failing miserably. "Because I’m good at hiding it, Y/n. I had to learn. But you..." She stopped, her eyes scanning your face, your body. "You’re so young. So raw. Perfect to mold—" Her hands trembled with a deep excitement. "And that’s what destroys me. Because when I’m with you, I forget everything that’s supposed to matter. Everything that’s supposed to hold me back."

Her words tightened a knot in your chest, because they echoed a truth you couldn’t admit to yourself. "And now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda stepped even closer, her hands cupping your face with a gentleness that seemed at odds with the intensity you’d just shared. "Now, we drown together," she said, her eyes blazing again, but this time with something deeper, more sincere. "Because I’m not letting you go. And I know you won’t either."

You both remained silent for a long moment after your intense exchange of words. The weight of tension still hung heavily in the air, but now there was something different—an undeniable determination in her green eyes. She began pacing the room, clearly trying to organize her thoughts.

"I can’t keep doing this," she finally said, abruptly stopping and turning to face you.

You frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Wanting you close but having to hold back. Trying to keep up appearances while feeling like I’m going to explode every time I see you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you kept your tone cautious. "So, what are you thinking?"

A small smile curled her lips—not the warm smile you sometimes saw, but something more calculated, almost predatory. "I’ve had an idea, my sweet. And maybe it’ll be enough until I can sort things out."

Wanda stepped closer, leaning in as if to share a forbidden secret. "The boys need a private tutor. Someone to help them with the subjects they’re struggling with."

You blink, processing her words. "And you want me to... be that person?"

Her smile widened, as though she was pleased with how quickly you’d caught on. "Of course. This way, I can keep an eye on you without having to come up with excuses. Without needing to hide how much I want to be near you."

The idea made your head spin. "Wanda, that’s... complicated. Wouldn’t it seem strange? What about Vision?"

The smile faded for a moment, and her eyes glinted with something darker. "Vision is gone most of the time, busy with work. And as for complicated..." She moved even closer, her breath warm against your skin. "We’re already complicated, Y/n. This just makes things easier."

You felt your resistance melt under her intense gaze. "And the boys?"

"They’ll love you," she said, as though there was no doubt about it. "Besides, you’re smart, patient, and..." Her fingers slid down your arm, her eyes glowing with a mix of desire and adoration. "I trust no one else near them. Or near me."

It was a dangerous proposition—an invitation to dive even deeper into something that already felt impossible to escape. But the way she looked at you, as if the entire universe revolved around you, made it impossible to say no.

"Alright," you finally murmured, feeling as though you were crossing an invisible but definitive line. "I’ll do it."

The smile Wanda gave you was both triumphant and filled with something you couldn’t entirely identify. She reached up to caress your face, her fingers warm against your skin. "You made the right choice, darling. Trust me. I’ll take care of everything for us."

[...]

The Saturday morning dawned sunny, but inside Wanda's house, the atmosphere was a meticulously orchestrated chaos.

"Billy, Tommy, have you cleaned your rooms? I don't want anything out of place!" Wanda called from the kitchen while arranging a plate of freshly baked cookies on the table.

Billy sighed loudly from upstairs. "I already did, Mom! Why does she even need to see my room, anyway?"

Tommy appeared in the living room with a bored expression. "It's just a tutor, Mom. Chill."

Wanda stopped, looking at him with an intensity that made him take a step back. "She's more than that. I want you to make a good impression—no, a great one. Understood?"

The boys exchanged knowing glances but said nothing more. They knew arguing with their mother in this state was pointless.

But if she wasn’t just a tutor, then what was she?

Wanda adjusted the couch pillows for the tenth time and looked around. The house was spotless, the aroma of cookies filling the air. She took a deep breath, feeling the growing excitement in her chest. "Everything needs to be perfect," she murmured to herself.

And then, the doorbell rang.

When you stepped in, Wanda was at the door with a smile that seemed a little wider than usual, the gleam in her eyes betraying her excitement. Seeing you in her home, with her kids—your kids—made everything feel so right.

"Welcome, Y/n. It’s so good to see you."

You smiled shyly, holding a small backpack. "Thank you, professor. It’s a pleasure to be here."

Wanda gestured for you to come in. "Please, just Wanda here. Come, I want to introduce you to the boys."

Billy and Tommy were in the living room, sitting on the couch, clearly curious but trying to play it cool.

"Boys, this is Y/n, your new tutor. Y/n, these are my sons, Billy and Tommy."

You waved a little nervously. "Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can have fun while learning."

Billy smiled shyly. "Hi."

Tommy was more straightforward. "My mom says you’re funny. Is that true?"

You chuckled softly, relaxing a bit. "Well, that depends on you. But I can try."

Tommy tilted his head, a glint of challenge already in his eyes. "Then show me what you’ve got."

You tilted your head, thinking for a moment before saying:

"Alright, here goes: Why did the book go to the hospital?"

Tommy frowned, confused. "Why?"

Billy, now curious, asked, "What happened to it?"

You gave a playful smile. "Because it broke its spine!"

Billy burst out laughing while Tommy tried to hold back but ended up laughing too, shaking his head.

"That was terrible!" Tommy said, but the grin on his face gave away that he enjoyed it.

"Terrible? I’d call it genius," you replied, crossing your arms with an air of mock superiority.

"Yeah. She’s kinda cool," Tommy muttered to Billy, who nodded in agreement.

You asked them to sit down and share which subjects they found most challenging. Billy and Tommy glanced at each other, as if sharing a secret no one else could understand. The silent connection between them was so palpable that you felt a pang of affection.

"History," they replied in unison, making you chuckle softly, fascinated by how synchronized they were, even in the smallest details.

The twins were captivating. Their eyes sparkled with intelligence and a lively energy that felt familiar, as if a piece of Wanda was in each of them, yet they were uniquely themselves. You couldn’t help but be charmed, feeling something warm bloom in your chest—a feeling you couldn’t quite name.

"History…" You held the word in the air for a moment, as if it had weight. "Can you be more specific? Art history? Greek history? Norse history? American history?" You offered the options playfully, but they didn’t seem very impressed.

"All of them," they replied without hesitation, their casual tone making you raise your eyebrows.

You narrowed your eyes, leaning slightly forward as if engaging in a silent duel. "Alright, gentlemen… Listen closely," you began, your voice taking on a solemn yet warm tone. "I’m going to make you love history. Or my name isn’t Y/n."

The defiant tone awakened something in the boys. Tommy crossed his arms with a mischievous grin, while Billy tried to maintain a serious expression but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Alright, Miss,” Tommy replied, his tone brimming with competitive enthusiasm. “We accept your challenge.”

Billy nodded, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Let’s see if you can do it.”

As you observed them, you realized that in just a few minutes, they had already tugged at your heartstrings. They weren’t just adorable; they were spirited, curious, and full of life. You smiled at them, feeling a connection growing—a quiet and unexpected bond, like their presence filled a space you hadn’t known was empty.

You picked up a book on Greek mythology and stood in front of the boys, holding it as if it were a secret treasure. “Ready to dive into tales of gods, monsters, and heroes?” you asked, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Billy and Tommy nodded eagerly, their gazes fixed on you.

“It all begins at the dawn of time, when there was nothing but chaos,” you said, spreading your arms dramatically, as if summoning the void. “Then, suddenly, Gaia, the Earth, and Uranus, the Sky, were born. They had children... lots of children. But do you know what Uranus did?”

The boys shook their heads, curiosity piqued.

“He got scared of them! So, he locked them in Tartarus, the deepest, darkest place in the world.” You leaned closer, lowering your voice to build suspense. “But one of them, Cronus, wasn’t having it. He rebelled and became the king of the gods.”

“That’s so cool,” Tommy murmured, his eyes wide.

“Oh, but wait,” you said, raising a finger. “Cronus had a problem. A prophecy said one of his children would overthrow him. So, do you know what he did?”

“What?” Billy asked, completely engrossed.

“He… ate his own children!” you exclaimed, mimicking the gesture with your hands as if devouring something.

“Ew, gross!” Tommy said, wrinkling his nose but laughing at the same time.

“But,” you continued, lifting a finger theatrically, “their mother, Rhea, wasn’t about to let that happen. She hid the youngest, Zeus, and gave Cronus a rock wrapped in cloth instead. Cronus didn’t even notice!”

Billy burst out laughing. “What an idiot!”

“And then Zeus grew up, defeated Cronus, saved his siblings, and became the king of the gods. Which leads to a ton of other crazy stories... but this is just the beginning.”

At that moment, you noticed Wanda standing in the doorway, watching the scene with a nearly imperceptible smile on her lips.

“You’re impressing the boys,” she commented, her voice soft but full of something that made your heart skip a beat.

You shrugged, trying to hide your blush. “Well, with a story like that, it’s hard not to keep their attention, right?”

“It’s more than that,” Wanda replied, her eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite decipher. “You have a special way with them. And with stories.”

“I like kids. And stories,” you whispered, just for her.

You turned back to the boys, smiling. “Alright, next question: Who thinks they’d have the guts to face a titan like Cronus?”

“Me!” Tommy immediately raised his hand.

“And me!” Billy chimed in excitedly.

You laughed, charmed by their energy. “Well, let’s see how you do in the next challenges!”

As you continued the story, you felt Wanda’s gaze still on you. It wasn’t just pride for the boys or appreciation for your teaching methods. It was something deeper, more complex—something as ancient and powerful as the myths you were recounting.

Wanda stood by the garden door, arms crossed, watching the scene with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. From a shaded spot near the garden, she observed the boys laughing and running around you, completely immersed in the recreation of the mythological battle. Their laughter filled the air, a melody that warmed something deep within her chest.

Her eyes drifted back to you. It wasn’t just the way the boys responded to your presence that fascinated her, but also the energy you exuded. There was a passion in your movements, a genuine joy that seemed to radiate and infect everything around you.

But at the same time, there was something more. The sparkle in your eyes when you spoke to the twins, the way you seemed so at ease, even in a new environment… It all made Wanda feel unsettled, as if she were witnessing something that belonged to her being contested.

Out in the garden, you set up an improvised scene. The hose and sprinkler were strategically positioned, ready to represent the turbulent sea that separated the gods from the Norse giants. In one hand, you held a bucket with diluted red paint—your version of mythological blood.

"Alright, warriors!" you said, placing your hands on your hips and addressing Billy and Tommy as if you were about to lead an army. "Today, we're going to reenact one of the greatest battles in Norse mythology: the fight between Thor and Jörmungandr, the World Serpent!"

Tommy blinked, intrigued. "Who’s Jörmun…gandr?" He struggled with the name, making you smile at his cuteness.

"It’s a giant serpent so big it wraps around the world and bites its own tail," you explained, moving your hands in a large circle. "And guess who fights it in the final battle?"

"Thor!" Billy exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Exactly!" you replied, pointing at him as if he’d just earned points. "And today, one of you will be Thor, and the other will be Jörmungandr!"

The two exchanged glances, already excited.

"I’m Thor!" Tommy shouted, lifting a garden spade like a hammer.

"Then I’m the serpent!" Billy declared, grabbing a hose and swinging it as if it were the tail of a giant reptile.

You began narrating, swirling the red paint as if creating a storm in the bucket. "The sea is raging! The sky fills with thunder as Thor approaches the monster!" You turned on the sprinkler, and the spray of water began soaking everyone, simulating the turbulent sea.

"I attack first!" Billy yelled, spraying water from the hose at Tommy.

"Thor doesn’t back down from danger!" you narrated as Tommy charged forward with his spade. "He raises his hammer and—"

"I hit the serpent’s head!" Tommy shouted, lightly striking the ground near Billy with his spade.

"But Jörmungandr doesn’t surrender easily!" you cried, pouring a bit of red paint on the ground around them to simulate spilled blood. "The serpent coils around the hero, trying to crush him!"

Billy began spinning around Tommy, holding the hose as if it were the serpent’s body.

Wanda appeared at the garden door, crossing her arms and observing the scene with a mix of curiosity and incredulity. She remained in the shade of a tree near the garden, where the boys laughed and ran around you, completely immersed in the mythological battle reenactment. The sound of their laughter filled the air, a melody that warmed something deep in her chest. She rarely saw them so happy, so at ease with anyone other than herself.

Her gaze shifted to you. It wasn’t just how the boys responded to your presence that fascinated her but the energy you radiated. There was passion in your gestures, a genuine joy that seemed to infect everything around you.

And then, she noticed.

The sprinkler’s water had soaked your clothes. Your white blouse clung to your skin, outlining the curves of your breasts. Your hardened nipples were visible through the thin fabric. A drop of water slid from your chin to your neck, tracing a slow path that disappeared beneath the wet cloth. Your hair, plastered to your face and shoulders, dripped and gleamed under the afternoon sun.

Wanda swallowed hard, trying to look away. But it was impossible. Something about the scene left her… unsettled. It wasn’t just the sight of your body; it was the way you laughed so freely, as if nothing else existed but that moment.

Wanda wanted... She wanted...

“Are you okay, Mom?” Billy asked, running over to her, still holding the hose.

Wanda quickly composed herself, putting on a smile. “Yes, sweetheart. I’m just enjoying the show.”

He grinned and ran back to the “battlefield,” where you were now pretending to be a Norse dragon attacking Thor.

Wanda sighed, crossing her arms. She needed to remember she was in control. But in that moment, watching you and the boys, she wasn’t so sure that was still true.

“You’re all soaked,” she commented, raising an eyebrow.

“And that’s half the fun!” you replied, laughing as more water sprayed around. “Besides, we’re recreating history. Isn’t it amazing?”

“If this is history, I want to learn more!” Billy shouted, laughing as he tried to escape Tommy.

“Thor wins the battle,” you announced dramatically, pointing at Tommy. “But the serpent’s venom is powerful. He takes one last step and… collapses!”

Tommy pretended to faint on the ground, laughing the entire time.

Wanda shook her head, but there was a smile on her face. “I never thought teaching mythology could be so... wet.”

You shrugged, still smiling. “That’s how you learn, Wanda—with fun and, apparently, a little chaos.”

“Just don’t forget, chaos is my specialty,” she replied, her smile turning a little more mischievous.

And for a moment, you felt like you were part of that small, unlikely family.

[...]

When you entered the house, the energy felt different. The boys' laughter still echoed in your ears, but something in the air had shifted. Wanda stood near the door, her eyes fixed on you with an intensity that was hard to ignore. She leaned slightly, her posture elegant, her gaze locked on you as if studying your every move.

“Boys,” she said firmly, “bath time.”

They groaned for a moment but quickly ran upstairs. Wanda remained there, watching them go before turning her attention back to you.

“You’re soaked. Do you want to change?” she asked, her voice soft but tinged with something you couldn’t quite identify.

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart race. “Yes, please.”

She gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “The bathroom is in my room. There’s a clean shirt in the drawer if you want to use it.”

A sudden nervousness swept over you. This wasn’t what you expected. Her bathroom? It made everything feel… personal. A palpable tension settled between the two of you.

“Thank you,” you murmured, trying to sound casual but feeling the heat rising to your face. You turned and began walking toward her bedroom, your heart pounding faster with each step.

Once inside the bathroom, you shut the door with a deep sigh. The sound of the shower water starting seemed amplified, as if every drop marked the rhythm of your nerves. Slowly, you undressed, the tension in your body increasing as you imagined Wanda outside, still watching you somehow.

The warm water couldn’t entirely wash away the unease gripping you. As you lathered up, your thoughts wandered to the possibilities. You knew Wanda was intense, but that simple gesture—offering her bathroom, her shirt—felt loaded with a significance you weren’t prepared to handle.

You hurried through your shower, trying to shake off the insecurities and focus on the moment. But when you stepped out, you felt even more anxious than before. Her shirt was far too big, the soft fabric clinging to your body in an uncomfortably intimate way. Every small movement, every breath seemed amplified in the quiet room.

You were alone, yet you didn’t feel truly alone. The sensation of being watched, even without Wanda there, lingered. Her aura seemed imprinted on the space, almost suffocating.

As you looked around the room, you noticed her meticulously made bed, the pristine white sheets that looked expensive. Your heart tightened at the thought that it wasn’t you sleeping beside her every night. On the right side of the bed—Wanda’s side, you assumed—there was a book on the nightstand. Curious, you picked it up. But the sound of the door opening startled you, and the book slipped from your hands.

“What did I say about snooping?” The redhead entered the room, crossing her arms beneath her chest, making them seem slightly fuller. There was a mix of irritation and amusement in her gaze.

You glanced at the book’s cover one last time before handing it to Wanda. “Jane Austen is a great writer. I like historical romance too.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, taking the book from her hands with an expression that suggested she was evaluating her intentions. “‘I have many flaws, but not in understanding, I hope. As for my temper, I can’t guarantee it’s very good. I believe it’s a little too harsh for the world’s conveniences. I can’t forget the madness and vices of others as quickly as I should. Nor the offenses they make against me. My feelings don’t flare up with the slightest effort or attempt. My temperament could be called resentful. Once the good opinion I have of a person is lost, it’s lost forever.’”

You were impressed as she recited Darcy effortlessly. It was so quirky! She must have read it countless times.

A delighted smile formed on her lips. “‘This is truly a flaw,’” you began theatrically. “‘Relentless resentment is a trait that marks a character. You’ve chosen your flaw well. In fact, I can’t laugh at it. There’s no need to be afraid of me.’”

“‘I believe that in every temperament, there’s a tendency toward a particular form of evil, a natural vice that even the best education can’t extinguish.’” Wanda pressed her lips together, but there was a spark of amusement in her eyes. She suddenly laughed at your expression, which had become grumpy.

"And your flaw is a tendency to threaten to shoot red power balls at everyone, I imagine," you shot back, just as if you were talking about real life.

"Ah, and yours is irritating everyone with that sharp tongue of yours. I believe that applies perfectly here, by the end of the conversation."

You clicked your tongue before moving closer to her. "No... Darcy was a bit detestable at first. You're more like Katherine from The Taming of the Shrew." Your tone was mocking, but your voice had grown lower, almost intimate.

It’s funny how natural it is that your flirtations and jabs turned into shared literary tastes. Classics are always welcome at the worst of times, and just by Wanda’s deadly gaze, she certainly knows who Katherine is.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp as a blade. "And I suppose you’re the stubborn beast of Petruchio, aren't you?"

You laughed, closing the distance between you. The heat radiating from her skin was intoxicating. "I don't usually cast myself as the male part of any story, but since you made the comparison... Katherine ends up tamed and married to Petruchio." Your insinuation made Wanda lick her lips, a visible attempt to contain her growing irritation.

"Are you implying you can tame me? As if I were some wild creature?" Wanda stepped forward, and you realized you were about to cross an important line.

You studied her face, every detail—the furrow between her brows, her clenched jaw. She was beautiful, furious, and captivating. Your heart raced, and the desire to kiss her became almost unbearable.

"Not a wild creature, but you can certainly be tamed." Your tone was full of provocation, but the intensity in your eyes betrayed something else.

The pressure in the room intensified, and Wanda’s control shattered. Her powers began to manifest; a faint red glow appeared in her eyes, and objects around you started to levitate slowly. The air grew heavier, charged with tension and raw magic.

"I’d kill you right now if I could," Wanda growled, her voice low and threatening, but her eyes gleamed with something deeper—a conflict between anger and desire.

The fuse. The pulse between your legs was about to drive you crazy. You smiled, a wicked grin full of desire.

"Well, lucky for you, you can't." With a swift movement, you pulled her neck, thrusting your tongue into her mouth. Wanda moaned against your lips, a sound that reverberated through you like an electric shock.

At first, she resisted. Her lips were tense, her body rigid. But then, control shattered completely. Wanda surrendered to the kiss with an almost desperate ferocity, her hands grabbing your hair, pulling you closer.

Objects around you continued to float, creating a chaotic spectacle in the room. But neither of you seemed to care. All that existed was the heat, the touch, the taste of each other.

She pulled you by the hair, seeing her from above—so powerful, it couldn’t be more exciting.

"You’re so unbearable..." She murmured, her lower lip trapped between her teeth.

"Oh, come on! You don’t know the reputation you have at the university?" You shot back, giving her a provocative smile. Wanda's eyes shone wild, and she yanked your hair again, pulling your neck along.

"Say it." She demanded, biting the curve of your ear.

"They say you like this." Your voice came out broken by the small bites Wanda was placing on your neck.

"Like what, dekta?" Her veiny hands caressed your body with lust, and it made your head spin.

"You—"

She interrupted you with a hard bite to your shoulder—it was clear she was taking out her anger on you.

"That I like little girls with a clever mouth? Who like to challenge me so I can break every last bit of their confidence?" The woman bit your breast, still covered by fabric. "Oh, darling. They couldn’t be more right."

And then, there, under Wanda’s command — you understood.

She did it all the time. She diminished you, devalued you on purpose. It didn’t matter how flawless your work was; Wanda always found a way to belittle it, to clip your wings before you could fly. Every sharp remark, every gaze that seemed to pierce through your soul, was carefully calculated to chip away at your confidence. She humiliated you, intimidated you…

And in some twisted way, it aroused you more than you cared to admit.

Never before had you been the object of such specific, visceral attention. It was wrong — you knew that. But the intensity in her gaze, the way she deliberately kept you under her control, stirred something deep within you.

It was a power game — cruel, immoral — yet irresistibly magnetic. And you couldn’t look away.

Wanda tugged harder on your hair, forcing your legs to give out from the pain. "Shh... Don’t fight, darling," she whispered against your lips. "Kneel. Know your place."

Your knees hit the floor, and all you could see was the victorious smile on her face.

"Right beneath me," she murmured. "With those doe-like, pleading eyes." She exhaled deeply, as if she’d been holding her breath for too long.

She stepped back, leaving you staring at the floor alone. The only sound was the soft tapping of her footsteps on the wooden floor and the lingering warmth of her power that filled the room.

When you lifted your head, determined to face her, the sight before you was nothing short of glorious — Wanda seated in a green armchair by the window overlooking the neighborhood. She looked majestic, glowing with a scarlet aura, making it impossible not to submit.

This wasn’t just Wanda Maximoff. This was The Scarlet Witch.

Your mouth went dry. Even without experience, you knew what you wanted — what you needed. But Wanda seemed to know more than you did, because her smug smile only made your core pulse with need. The rhythm of her crossed legs swaying ever so slightly seemed to call to you.

“Crawl.”

The witch’s harsh command struck you, and adrenaline surged through your veins, making you tremble. “Crawl to me, pet, and I’ll spare you.”

A witch like Wanda possessed countless abilities, infinite powers. Yet, as she watched you crawl toward her, Wanda understood the true meaning of power.

It was a feeling that transcended magic, surpassing the control she wielded over the world around her. It was deeper, more primal. The witch within her wanted to claim everything — her space, her pain, her vengeance. But most of all, she wanted to claim you.

When you stopped at her feet, Wanda tilted her head as if examining an unfinished masterpiece. Her hand slid to your face, her touch gentler than she had intended. Her fingers traced the curve of your jaw, trembling slightly when they reached your chin.

Her voice was low but commanding. There was no room for doubt. It wasn’t a request; it was a demand. Her eyes glowed intensely, the energy around her flickering like a halo of power.

She uncrossed her legs with an almost feline grace, letting her bare foot rest on the floor as she leaned back comfortably in the green chair. Every movement she made was imbued with natural sensuality, as if she was born to be worshipped.

“Let’s see if your instincts are as sharp as your tongue,” she teased, a slight smirk on her lips, fully aware you were ensnared in her spell.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest. Wanda seemed untouchable — like a goddess carved in marble. Strong, imposing, unreachable — and yet, all you wanted was to kneel before her.

Shame and desire blended together. You were desperate to please her, to be worthy of being at her feet.

“I’m waiting,” Wanda arched a brow, her tone impatient. “Or are you all talk? Prove you can do more than provoke.”

Your breath grew heavier as your knees touched the floor once more. Her words echoed like a commandment. Prove yourself. Show her you understand. That she is everything.

Your eyes locked on the delicate curve of her ankle, the bones shifting subtly beneath her pale skin. Her foot was perfect, every detail made to be adored.

Your mouth went dry, but the primal desire rising within you overwhelmed everything else.

Slowly, you tilted your head, never breaking eye contact with Wanda. The world seemed to stop. Nothing else mattered except this moment, the connection between the two of you.

“Good girl,” Wanda’s voice came as a rare praise, sending a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t know if she was using magic or if it was simply the power she had over you, but you felt as though you were under a spell. Every movement you made was guided by an ancient instinct — a desire to worship, to surrender completely.

Your lips brushed against the top of her foot, and Wanda let out a satisfied sigh. The tension in the air shifted, replaced by something more intimate. More profound.

“Keep going.”

You obeyed without hesitation, tracing kisses along the arch of her foot. Your trembling fingers barely dared to touch her. Wanda was more than human. She was pure power, and you felt every particle of it.

Wanda’s eyes closed for a brief moment, her lips parting in a silent sigh. When she looked back at you, there was something softer in her gaze. Admiration? Satisfaction? Perhaps even… affection.

“See how easy that is?” Her voice remained firm, but there was a tenderness hidden within her words. “My little pet knows exactly where she belongs, doesn’t she?”

You nodded, never breaking eye contact.

“Say it.”

Your voice trembled, but it carried truth. “At your feet.”

Wanda’s smile widened, not with arrogance, but with contentment.

“Good girl.”

Then she leaned down just enough to capture your mouth in a bruising kiss, drawing a moan of satisfaction from both of you.

“Mommy should give you your reward now, shouldn’t she?”

Then there was that damned M word that made your belly contract. You squirmed at how hard it was for you to hold back, so you sought some relief in the friction of your own thighs.

Wanda opened herself to you like a flower, and at that moment you discovered that the older woman was not wearing panties, making her bittersweet scent rise to you, making your salivate.

“Do you want it, pet?” She asked, lifting her hips a little so you could see better and you felt like you might faint.

“Please, please…” You found yourself in an endless loop of begging, which made Wanda smile as she panted in lust.

“Such a good girl… She learned so quickly to beg for mommy’s pussy.” She stroked your chin, so gently that you rubbed against her hand like a cat seeking affection from its owner.

“Come, pet. Take it all.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Giving a big lick with the base of your tongue just to taste it, you hear her take a deep breath, relaxing into the upholstery. Her scent suffocating you and making your eyes roll back.

Letting out a ragged sigh as her warm, soft tongue licked your most intimate juncture, flooding Wanda's senses with intense pleasure. Wanda grips your hair between her fingers, forcing you to look at her.

"Eyes on me, baby girl."

She grinds her hips up involuntarily, seeking more of that skillful, soapy attention. You continue with small kitten licks, leaving Wanda a little trembling with anticipation on top of you. When you move your tongue in large, lazy circles, Wanda moans—encouraging you to push your mouth even further against her pussy.

"Ugh, yes… just like that…"

For Wanda, this was just the beginning. The sordid things she would do to you… Your stupid, naughty little girl mind could not even imagine. The excitement isn't just in the act. In fact, it never was. Everything she imagined since she laid eyes on you. Everything. It was already underway.

Your little face between her legs only proves it.

“Fuck, you're good… so good for your mommy.”

Wanda's moans leave you senseless, her praises blur your mind and you feel like you need a lot more of this. Your mouth moves away from the woman's clit to leave small wet kisses on her thigh.

The witch's eyes glow red with a fierce and predatory glow, the hunger burning stronger than ever.

“Don't tease me, stupid little slut…” Wanda says through gritted teeth, making you moan at the insult. “Get back to work and show me what a talented little pussy-sucker you can be…”

A feral growl rumbles in your chest, her teasing… leaving you with a wild desire to be good for her, to please her more than anything.

“Now, suck my clit like the eager little slut I know you are…”

You can only obey the witch’s request. Pushing your mouth even further against her pussy, it’s when you scrape your teeth against the woman’s clit that you hear her howl—pain and pleasure. A raw, guttural scream leaves Wanda’s throat as you tease her sensitive, swollen bud with just the right amount of pressure and force.

“Uuuunghhhh, God…!” She grinds her hips against your insistent mouth, seeking more of the sharp, exquisite sensation.

“Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop, fuck! I’m going to kill you!” Her fingers fist in your hair, tugging mercilessly as she rides your tongue with wild abandon.

The scarlet red all over the room, the incandescent, magical glow boiling on your skin. “You’re going to make me cum, naughty girl, just like that… Mommy’s little young slut is going to make her cum… Right there, yes!” The witch’s back arches off the chair, her entire being centered on the intense, violent pleasure radiating from her core.

You feel everything around you literally spin. Glancing out of the corner of your eye, you see the bed floating across the room, hitting the ceiling—it’s mind-boggling.

“OH FUCK, OH FUCK, FUCK, DO IT, PET!”

The words dissolve into raw, wild sounds as her climax overtakes her, waves of ecstasy crashing over her in a relentless torrent.

You feel the older woman’s legs tremble above you. Your ego soaring, you don’t even notice the woman’s still red eyes above you. As your orgasm subsides, Wanda notices your awestruck gaze, still transfixed by the spectral, crimson display of the displaced objects.

“Yeah, kind of like that…” She smiles teasingly, watching your lips wet with her pleasure.

Wanda pulls you by the back of your neck, clashing your lips in a fight that she would clearly win.

"Mommy isn't done with you yet, honey…" she murmurs like a solemn promise.

"Mommy…" You say softly, still mesmerized by her and still kneeling.

Something about how you say it makes Wanda savor the word. "Say it again." She commands, looking into your eyes.

"Mommy." You repeat, now more confident.

The older woman hums in approval and gets up from the chair, her legs still a little shaky from the recent orgasm.

She throws you on top of her king-size bed and walks over to you with superhuman eyes.

"Mommy is dying to take what is rightfully hers."

She climbs on top of you, taking off the blouse that covers you and making obscene movements on top of your jeans.

"Nobody touched here, did they, honey? You didn't let anyone touch that tight pussy, did you?"

You gasped and denied it vehemently. The words coming out of the woman's mouth were making you dumb.

"No… I'm a virgin."

You say and feel the woman's wicked smile on the curve of your neck.

"Of course you are. You're made for me… such a good girl waiting for me."

The woman's lips traveled the length of your neck, giving you goosebumps. Wanda's hands trembled with restraint as she stared at your soft skin, the delicate folds and tempting curves yet to be savored. With a deft movement, she undoes your shorts, dragging the jeans down your thighs while her gaze remains fixed on the flesh that awaits her.

"Mommy will use all your holes until you become a perfect, dumb whore for her," she said with her nails digging into your waist, leaving half-moon marks. "You're perfect…" in her eyes there was adoration for you and nothing else.

The words left Wanda’s mouth in a reverent whisper, almost as if they were a secret reserved only for you. Her eyes glowed, but not with the power you knew so well—not with that menacing red glow. No. Now, they were a deep, warm sea, filled with adoration.

The way she looked at you, even with you beneath her, made your heart race and your skin tingle. There was nothing but devotion in her gaze, as if you were the most precious thing she had ever touched.

Her fingers, strong and steady, slid over your body with care and possession, as if she were committing every curve of yours to memory. You let out a needy moan, unable to contain the wave of desire her words stirred within you. There was something intoxicating about being so vulnerable, so surrendered, and yet somehow feeling in control.

“Look at me,” Wanda murmured, her voice low but full of command. Your eyes didn’t waver for a second. You obeyed, lifting your gaze to meet hers. And there it was—the intensity was almost overwhelming, a kind of fervor that made her legs tremble. There was something so raw about that moment, as if she were seeing into the most hidden parts of his soul and yet choosing to love each and every one of them.

“You have no idea…” Wanda continued, her lips brushing his skin, her breath hot against his neck. “How you make me feel. Powerful. Invincible.”

Even in her submissive position, something in you blossomed under that gaze. Her power felt like an embrace, firm and unshakable, but never cruel. You were exposed, defenseless, but you had never felt so protected.

“You will learn to crave my touch, my presence, as deeply as I crave you. Your perfect, submissive little body belongs to me now. I will mold you, transform you into the most obedient, desperate slut imaginable… and you will beg for the chance to serve me.”

Wanda’s lips brushed the shell of your ear, her hot breath sending shivers down your spine. Each whispered word carried a weight that made your body tremble, not from fear, but from pure anticipation.

“You will be the best toy a witch like me has ever had…” Her voice was a mix of desire and threat, like poisoned honey that you couldn’t resist. “And I will never let you go.”

Her tone was possessive, each syllable carefully loaded with intent. Wanda’s hands slid down your ribs, her fingers pressing lightly against your skin as if she were marking her territory.

“I’m going to tease you until you beg for release,” she continued, her tongue lightly brushing your earlobe, making an involuntary moan escape your lips. “And even then… maybe I won’t give you what you want. Maybe I’ll just stay here…” She slid her lips to your neck, where she placed a hot, slow kiss. “Watching you writhe, completely at my mercy.”

Your breathing quickened, and you felt the muscles in your body tighten. Her heat was almost overwhelming, and the way she spoke—so confident, so in control—made your mind spin with a mix of anxiety and excitement.

“Then I’m going to tie you up, blindfold you,” she murmured, her teeth scraping lightly against your skin. “And leave you waiting. With no idea what I’m going to do next. Every second a delicious torture… until you learn there’s no escape.” That you are mine, completely.”

Your heart was pounding, your head spinning with the intensity of her words. Her hands slowly moved up his back, firm and possessive, as she planted another kiss on your shoulder. “You like that, don’t you?” Wanda asked, her voice a dark melody. “You like knowing that even when I’m cruel, it’s still for you. That everything I do is so you’ll never forget… who you belong to.”

You bit your lip, instinctively moistening it. Your head fell back slightly, your eyes half-closed as you tried to form words, but nothing coherent came out.

“Answer me, dekta,” Wanda ordered softly, her hand now cupping your chin so you looked her straight in the eye. “Or I might have to teach you what happens when little girls disobey their mommies.”

Wanda’s tone was seductive and cruel, the veiled threat in her voice as intoxicating as the firmness with which she held your face. You felt a deep shiver run down your spine, each word like an electric current that lit up every nerve in your body.

Your body trembled, not from fear, but from an anticipation so overwhelming that you could barely breathe. Your heart pounded, your mind flooded with a mixture of shame and desire. Her power over you was absolute, and in that moment, everything in you screamed for submission.

“Mommy…” you murmured, the word slipping out almost without thinking, your voice shaky and choked by the tension Wanda was creating around you.

Your eyes were glazed over, as if you were in a trance, completely at the mercy of that overwhelming presence.

Wanda smiled, an arrogant, cruel smile, but undeniably beautiful. She tilted her head, her eyes shining with something that seemed like pure satisfaction.

“Look at you,” she said softly, but the firmness in her voice made every muscle in your body tense in response. “You can’t even think, can you, my little whore?”

Your body trembled in anticipation, her every word like an invisible rope tightening around you. You knew Wanda was dangerous, but at that moment, the only thing you could think about was how much you wanted to find out how far she was willing to go.

The throbbing between your legs was mind-blowing, you needed to relieve yourself urgently. But before you could rub yourself against your own thighs, Wanda stopped you.

“You’re already so wet, you filthy girl. Can’t resist the thrill of pleasing Mommy, can you?” she purrs, her free hand sliding down to cup the juncture between your thighs, rubbing in firm, possessive circles. She places her knee against your pussy, causing a delicious, excruciating pressure. “I bet you can come like this. Rubbing yourself against my knee like a bitch in heat, can’t you?”

You respond with a long moan, your tongue lolling out, the intense pressure and tantalizing sensation of her knee against your hypersensitive folds making you whimper and buck in helpless need, your own hips instinctively moving to grind against the unyielding obstruction.

“That’s it, dirty slut… Let Mommy see how much you want to come. Rub yourself against my leg like the desperate little slut you are.”

“Want to come like this?” She asks, making you whimper. Thinking about anything was too difficult. Maybe you should let her take control of everything. "I asked you a question!"

You gasp when you feel the woman slap your left cheek. "Wanda, I want… more!" You manage to finish with difficulty.

"Who?" She asks, forcing her knee deeper into your entrance, making you cry out.

"Mommy!" You correct yourself, humming in approval.

"There's my good girl." She praises you, "What do you want, darling?" Wanda makes circular movements with her tongue on your nipples, hard as rocks. "My mouth. My fingers. My cock." Hearing her, you whimper.

"Oh. Fuck…" You gasp loudly.

"Greedy little girl… You want all of these, don't you?"

As if summoned by Wanda's wicked touch and piercing gaze, your fantasies take on a life of their own, your mind feverish with desire. You need it all—every hungry bite, every deep, devastating thrust, every stroke of a masterful hand across your skin.

The sheer intensity of your need consumes you, leaving nothing but desperation, longing, pleading in its wake. “Yes, Mommy,” you finally confess in a breathless whisper, “I need it all. I need you in every way imaginable.” With a low, triumphant growl, Wanda surges forward, her skilled fingers delving between those slick, panting thighs once more.

She teases and claws at you, building the pressure to a fever pitch even as her lips and tongue continue their relentless assault on your sensitive peaks.

“Such a greedy little sex toy,” the older woman murmurs against the quivering flesh, her voice a husky, wicked caress. “Ready to take it all like the perfect slut you were born to be.”

Upon reaching your pussy, Wanda sucks on your outer lips—extracting the sweet honey. The woman’s expert tongue swirls over your clit, making you gasp. You tense and writhe under Wanda’s relentless assault, the wicked witch’s tongue teasing, tasting, claiming every last drop of your offering.

Your soaked, throbbing folds pulse in rhythm with each skillful, searching stroke, the desperate need building to a fever pitch within your core.

“Oh, shit, oh shit, oh fuck—” Your voice cracks, a harsh, pleading moan that reflects the wild, aching desire coursing through your veins. You grind shamelessly against Wanda’s mouth, lost in the overwhelming tsunami of sensation, the relentless drive for release.

“Please, Wanda. I need you—I want you—” you choke in pleasure, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of the abyss of pleasure.

With a naughty giggle, Wanda replaces her mouth with her fingers, alternating between your clit and your hot entrance. “You’re so close already, aren’t you? All that stimulation Mommy gave you was too much, wasn’t it?” She said, as she rested her chin on top of your mons venus—watching you with burning eyes.

“…So close, please! I feel so good. So good to you, I—” The tears in the corners of your eyes indicate how strong an orgasm you will have.

With a sly smile, Wanda responds, her expert fingers curling and stroking that sensitive, throbbing bundle of nerves in deliberate, unyielding circles.

“Come for me, pet,” she purrs darkly against the quivering flesh, “Give me all that sweet, dripping honey. Show Mommy how well-trained a little sex toy like you can be…” The cruel, relentless pleasure builds and builds until your mind goes blank.

As your orgasm hits, you feel a sharp pain between your legs—and for some reason, the mixture of mild pain and intense pleasure increases the throbbing in your belly even more.

“Fuuuck me!!!” The raw, primal sound of ecstasy as your sensitive, tingling flesh shudders and contracts around the older woman’s hand. Your hips buck violently, lost in the tormenting ecstasy of surrender, of release.

In the stormy haze of your climax, a fleeting agony sparks through the velvety softness of your sex—a burning, stinging sensation that for just a moment eclipses the thunderous ecstasy. Yet in the next heartbeat, the exquisite wave of pleasure returns, even more intense, taking you even higher. You were going to come again, and Wanda knew it.

“Yeahhhhh… So tight, my stupid whore,” Wanda’s voice is a seductive growl, a dark promise in every word. "Like this. Take it all, let me have it all…" Her fingers move faster, hitting the spongy spot inside you.

"Are you going to cum again?" the wicked witch asked, thrusting harder. "Are you going to cum with Mommy's little finger in you? Are you going to make a mess of your Mommy's bed?"

"YESSSSS!!!! OH FUUUUUCKKKKKK Mommy, Mommy! "I'M GONNA-C--" Your screams are abruptly cut off as a new burst of intense, shuddering ecstasy rips through your very being.

In that fleeting instant of total surrender, your senses blur into a sea of ​​sensations - the stinging, relentless pleasure, the dark, possessive hunger in Wanda's eyes, the intimate, slippery thrill of possession. Every nerve ending, every synapse is alight with the desire to be filled, to be used, to be claimed… to surrender completely to the relentless, insatiable desire that has ensnared you.

With your breathing quickened and your body trembling, you couldn't speak or move—all you could do was cry and let out all the emotion pent up in your chest.

Wanda noticed the tears rolling down your face before you did. At first, an expression of concern formed in her eyes, replaced by a deep affection that softened you completely. With surprising care, considering the intensity she had shown minutes before, she leaned over you, her fingers still black with power—shakingly wiping away the salty drops that ran down your cheeks.

"Hey, dekta…" her voice was low, sweet, almost a melody. "Are you okay? Talk to me."

You tried to open your mouth, but no sound came out. Still, Wanda seemed to understand. She lay down next to you, wrapping you in her arms with a warmth that was not only physical, but almost magical. Her fingers traced soft patterns on your skin as she whispered words of comfort.

"Shh… it's okay. I'm here. It was all too much for you, wasn't it, pretty girl?"

She ran her hand through your hair, her eyes fixed on you with a kind of reverence that seemed almost sacred. There was no rush, just a constant care and tenderness that seemed to embrace all the broken pieces you didn't even know you carried.

“You’re so precious to me,” Wanda murmured, more to herself than to you. “I would face armies for you. Ask for anything, and I’ll give it to you, my little one.” The witch kissed the top of your head, feeling her own heart swell with something she couldn’t quite name.

Your chest tightened at her words, and a soft sob escaped your lips as a sense of safety unlike anything you’d ever known washed over you. She leaned down to press a slow, deliberate kiss to your forehead, as though wanting to carve the moment into her memory.

“You don’t need to understand it now, but what I feel for you… it’s greater than anything I’ve ever known.” Her eyes gleamed with something that danced between love and possessiveness, though it didn’t make her any less careful or tender.

She pulled the blanket over both of you, wrapping you tighter against her. “Cry as much as you need, my girl. I’m here. I will always be here.”

That moment was more than comfort; it was a vow. A silent promise that Wanda seemed determined to keep, no matter the cost.

Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, was pure, raw power—a storm incarnate, capable of reshaping the very fabric of reality with a simple gesture. In battle, she was wild, relentless, a hurricane of might no one dared to defy. But with you… it was different.

You were the key to a side of her she never believed could exist—a side that longed for more than destruction and control. A side that wanted to feel and be felt, to be seen and understood. You were the doorway to her own humanity, a part of herself she’d almost forgotten was there.

There was something about you that dismantled all her carefully constructed defenses, disarming her in a way no external force ever could. And it infuriated her. It terrified her. But it also made her crave you with a primal, almost desperate intensity.

She was hard, unyielding—always would be. But with you, she’d discovered what it meant to be vulnerable. Your touch, your gaze, your unwavering trust in her were like a key turning in the rusted gears of a hardened heart.

As she held your face between her hands, still trembling from the ecstasy only she could give you, Wanda realized that no matter how brutal or wild she was, you were the only being in the universe capable of turning her into something more than chaos and destruction.

And that made her want to protect you more than anything else. To shield you from pain, from the world, even from herself—but never to let you go. Because, in the end, you weren’t just the key to who Wanda could be.

You were her destiny, as certain as the power burning through her veins. And she would never let another life, another universe, tear you apart again.

Even with your eyes closed, you felt Wanda’s every word like the notes of an ancient melody, echoing inside you. Her moans, rough and filled with intensity—still playing in a loop in your mind—were more than sounds; they were verses of a visceral poem that seemed to envelop and consume you slowly.

Every sigh carried a secret. Every whisper felt like a hidden promise. And every sound that escaped her lips was a spell, binding you deeper into an abyss where pleasure and devotion intertwined.

It was as if Wanda was composing something eternal—a song only the two of you could hear and understand. And you? You were the sheet music, the instrument, the meaning behind every line and verse.

In that instant, lost between her words and the overwhelming intensity of the moment, you realized you had surrendered more than just your body.

Your soul, with all its scars and longings, had been written by Wanda. And her words—sweet, fierce, and insatiable—would be etched into you as the most beautiful, cruel poetry you’d ever know.

~*~

and yes, it was too much for you.

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[claramelooo]

I think about it every night before I go to sleep

Help

Agatha’s fingers in mouf

[claramelooo]

I Hate You (I Know You Do)

pairing: enemies to lovers | emo!wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: You and Wanda Maximoff hate each other. That was obvious. But, after a enlightening night at a BDSM club, you both realize that your feelings run much deeper.

content warnings: physical fighting, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, shibari, restraints (magical)

word count: 9k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

A/N: Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate!

“We meet again.”

The soft, accented voice reverberates slightly in your ears, and you spit onto the cold ground beneath you. Something pulses hotly with anger in your side, and you groan slightly, praying you didn’t crack a rib. A bead of sweat rolls down your temple, sliding over your cheekbone and dripping off your jaw as you suck in a few deep breaths. 

This really wasn’t your specialty — the fighting. The white magic that flowed from your fingertips was far better suited to putting things back together. 

“I wish it was under better circumstances,” you manage, slowly getting to your feet. Your knee digs into the ground as you stand, your back aching as you raise yourself fully. 

There, in the shadows of the room, you see a dark figure. It’s familiar, the silhouette that radiates dark power, the red wisps lazily curling around it rivaling the soft glow your fingertips emit in the dim lighting. 

You’re in some sort of church, the pews cracked from your body slamming into them. It’s been long abandoned, the altar sinking into the foundation slightly as the cross hangs crooked above it. Ivy creeps up the wall, the scent of heavy dirt thick as you take a few more breaths, one of your hands lightly pressing against your side to check for broken ribs. 

“Aren’t you tired?” Wanda drawls, finally emerging from the shadows. Her irises glow red, her head tilted slightly as she steps forward. Her stance is relaxed, but you see the tight line of her shoulders and the way she positions her body like a cobra, ready to strike at any moment. The red wisps around her move languidly, but you don’t trust them for a moment. You’ve seen what destruction they can bring. 

“That’s a subjective question…” you begin, smirking at the way Wanda rolls her eyes. She moves closer, and you hate the way your body twitches with the instinct to back away. It makes you feel like a cornered animal, but the blood pumping wildly through your veins focuses your senses, and magic builds under your skin as you watch her. 

Wanda doesn’t seem to notice, her fingers trailing along the smooth wood of one of the pews near the back of the room. She brings a finger up, inspecting it as if the dust of a centuries-old building wasn’t to her standards. “Why do you insist on doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Fighting me,” Wanda says, her voice laced with genuine curiosity. “You know you’ll lose.”

You scoff at the confidence in her voice. She seems so sure of herself. You despise it, the way she radiates arrogance. It practically bleeds out of her, laced with every word she speaks and ingrained in every movement she makes. It makes you want to…

“Makes you want to what?” Wanda asks, her eyes shining at you with that eerie red glow. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you resent the way her lips turn up into a secret smile as if she knows something you don’t.

Fucking mind readers. 

“Get out of my head,” you respond, your voice gruff as you shift your weight. You didn’t miss the way Wanda’s eyes tracked your every movement, sharp and focused. Her red eyes lingered around your fingertips, something flickering across her face at the sight of your magic glowing beneath your skin. You couldn’t tell what it was, but it made you wary. 

“Make me.”

If you had the energy to growl or curse her, you would have. But, given that you’d just been thrown through a large stained glass window and landed directly on the unforgiving wood of a pew, you just scowled and readied your hands. 

“Just fight me already, you know the drill,” you grit out, stretching your neck until it pops, feeling the magic build beneath your skin. Her eyes flick between your hands and your eyes, her own stance becoming more rigid, the scarlet wisps in the air moving with more purpose around her. 

“Our usual dance, then?”

You don’t respond to her teasing words, your eyes narrowing as a scarlet tendril whips quickly towards you. She’d been trying to distract you, to catch you off guard. Unfortunately for her, you knew her tricks well. 

Countering quickly, you can’t help the wide grin that spreads across your lips as you feel your magic erupt from you. Most would assume that a witch with healing powers couldn’t do much damage, and it delighted you to prove them wrong. After all, being underestimated in addition to the element of surprise was never a bad thing to have. 

A large, glowing shield surrounds you, sending bolts of electricity and pure magic back through the tendril that Wanda had thrown at you. She flicks her wrist, annoyance crossing her features as she gathers her magic between her hands. Her silver rings glint as she does, her eyes focused on you. 

“I do have one question,” you call out, your voice reverberating around the old, cracked walls around you. The structure shudders as she hurls a ball of magic in your direction. You can feel your hair sticking to the back of your neck as your muscles strain from the exertion of deflecting her powerful blows. 

The walls reflect red and white as you both fling bolts and tendrils of pure magic at each other. Her brows are furrowed, her feet moving her around the room as she deflects your attacks and sends her own magic back in retaliation. 

One of her wisps grazes your arm, throwing off your attack and forcing you to raise a shield against her sudden onslaught of magic. It batters against the wall of white magic you hold in front of you, and you feel yourself weakening slightly. Fuck. 

“You had a question?” She asks, her chest heaving and her words slightly breathy from magical strain.

Smirking, you prepare your next move as you speak, your voice slightly teasing as you ask, “Do you put on eyeliner just for our fights or do you normally prefer to look like a raccoon?”

“Maybe I just want to look good when I pummel your ass into the ground,” she bites out, throwing a flurry of small, needle-like wisps in your direction. Her eyes are focused and bright, her attention solely on you. It’s thrilling and terrifying at the same time. 

Dodging the attack, you roll on the cracked concrete beneath you and ignore the dull throb of pain in your side. You stumble slightly as you stand, one of Wanda’s wisps clipping you in the shoulder as you fling your next attack in her direction. 

The net-like magic hits her straight on, tangling with her hands as her eyes widen in surprise. You want to say something about her being an amateur, even though you’ve been fighting her for a few months now, losing and winning multiple times, but a sharp stab of pain in your side takes your breath away.

You fall, your lips parted as you desperately gasp for breath, your fingers prodding at your side as you deduce that you definitely have a cracked rib. Wanda struggles with the magical net, your raw power surrounding her for a moment before she throws it off, her fingers tingling from the direct contact with your magic. 

Had you been looking at her, you would have seen the conflict on her face, the war behind her eyes as she watched you. Her gaze lingered over your trembling fingers as you gripped the edge of a pew, your knuckles white from effort as you inhaled weakly. Your knees sink slightly into the concrete and exposed dirt, your head bowed and your face tingling from a lack of oxygen as your other hand clutches at your side, fingers glowing weakly as you try to muster enough power to heal yourself. 

“If you insist on fighting me,” Wanda begins, blinking as you raise your head to look at her. Your eyes shine, your cheeks flushed from the effort of fighting her, and she falters for a brief moment. “At least make it worth my while.”

Through hazy eyes, you watch her turn, the scarlet magic around her disappearing as you blink in an effort to focus. Anger makes its way through you, sitting heavily in your chest as you process her words. Your head spins, your fingers trembling as you use the last of your energy to mutter a healing spell. The pain slowly subsides as she walks away, her footsteps dampened as your ears begin to ring. 

A brief stab of pain causes you to gasp out as your rib snaps back into place, and you can’t tell if Wanda pauses or not, her head turning just enough for you to see the slight outline of her chin. Then, she’s gone, her presence fading from the room as you let your body droop slightly, all of your energy focused on healing your injury.

It takes hours to fully heal, your damp forehead resting against the broken pew as your chest heaves from the effort of using so much magic. You can’t help but smile, remembering the way Wanda’s face had glowed from her scarlet magic, your heart speeding slightly for a moment before you shake your head. The woman had flung you through a window, for fucks sake. It was no use to let your impertinent thoughts linger on her. You quickly shove your thoughts away, exhaling slowly as you stand. 

Now all you had to do was make it home without passing out.

—

You can hear soft music playing as the door opens, a man stepping out and shutting it quickly, the warm light from inside fading as he does so. The alleyway you’re in is slightly isolated, the sound of cars only a few blocks away, a single street lamp shining dimly near the street. The music cuts off abruptly, a testament to the soundproofing of the walls. The man steps in front of the door and holds out his hand expectantly.

“Nice to see you, Richard,” you say, pleased at the slight upturn at the corners of his lips. You have to crane your neck up slightly to look at his face, his large frame blocking the door completely. Handing over your ID and membership card, you quickly scan the alleyway, shoving your hands in your pockets. A slight breeze tickles the back of your neck, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched.

Richard grunts in response, checking your ID. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. With how often you frequent this club, you’d expect this process to be a lot shorter. 

“How’s your husband?”

Richard looks up at that, handing your ID back to you as a rare smile makes its way onto his face, his tattoo stretching from where it creeps up his neck and meets his cheek. He clears his throat, glancing over your membership card as a formality and giving it back to you.

“His birthday was two days ago,” he says, his voice soft. He crosses his arms, and you notice his muscles flexing through his jacket. His blue eyes look dark in the dim lighting, but you can see the way they crinkle in the corners as he speaks. “We had a nice celebration.”

You smile back at him, marveling at how many words he’d spoken. Richard doesn’t give you much of a chance to respond, turning slightly and opening the door, shuffling back to allow you to walk through the entrance as you squeeze past him.

The door shuts with a solid thud, and you feel yourself relax, the sensation of being watched fading as you take in the familiar surroundings. Warm lamps hang from the ceiling, casting soft shadows on the various individuals scattered across the room. Some sit languidly on couches, while others stand and nurse their drinks. You nod at a couple you recognize, smiling at the excited wave you receive from the young man, his mouth covered by a muzzle as he kneels beside his partner. She tugs gently at his leash, a reminder to behave, and lazily raises a hand in your direction.

Fuck, you need a drink.

Making your way to the bar, you check your watch, noting that you still have about twenty minutes before the main event starts. Typically, you frequented this club for casual sex, loving the power exchanges as you tried different things. You’d heard about this club, The Crimson Crow, from a fellow witch, and loved it ever since. 

“The usual?” The bartender asks, polite as ever. You nod, scanning the room as you let the soft jazz music wash over you. The main area was more crowded than usual tonight, the cacophony of voices louder than you were used to. You recognized multiple people, but a majority of the crowd were fresh faces. It made sense, given the nature of tonight's main event.

“Are you excited for the show?” 

Turning at the chipper tone, you smile widely, “Agatha, I’m glad you could make it!”

“Wouldn’t miss a scene like this for the world,” she drawls, sliding easily into the spot next to yours, the number of people crowding the bar making it a bit difficult for you to hear her. She looks wonderful, her hair glossy and makeup dark, a sign that she’s in full “Dominatrix Mode”, as you like to call it.

“Where is Rio tonight?” You ask, nodding gratefully at the bartender as he slides your drink over, your fingers circling the rim as you take a sip. You almost moan at the taste, the slightly salty brine from the olives making your dirty martini perfect. He makes a gesture, a signal to ask if you want to start a tab, and you nod and flash him a quick thumbs up, before returning your attention to Agatha. 

She takes a lengthy sip of her whiskey, licking her lips before jerking her head towards one of the couches. You follow, your hand clutching her upper arm as she squeezes past the slowly growing crowd. Her coven has saved a spot for her, so you squeeze in next to her, unbothered by the closeness as your thighs touch. Her arm wraps around the back of the couch, and you settle in, tilting your head as she takes another long drink. 

“She’ll be here soon,” Agatha finally responds, smiling slightly in your direction before leaning in, “She had to… deal with a situation.”

You nod, chuckling slightly as you share a knowing look. Her eyes linger just a bit too long on your face, and you flush for a moment as you take another sip of your martini. You can feel the glances from her coven. Lilia isn’t even trying to hide her curiosity, and Jen is trying - and failing - to be subtle as she watches from the corner of her eye. 

Agatha was one of your closest friends, truly. You’d met at this very club, years ago, the magical powers within you drawing you two together. Agatha had absolutely ravished you, her dominance overpowering and her words wicked in your ear - her fingers and strap had brought you to your climax more times than you could count. You’d enjoyed every second of it, but hadn’t quite felt the genuine romantic connection you were looking for. 

Besides, Agatha had met Rio not long after, and those two were inseparable. 

You were pretty sure that Agatha was part of a mafia, her coven just a front for their illicit activities. However, if you’d learned one thing over the years, it was to keep your mouth shut and your nose out of other people’s business. Besides, Rio scared the hell out of you, and you’d have run for the hills if you weren’t aware of the tight leash Agatha kept her on. Literally.

“We haven’t had a demonstration for a while,” Agatha notes, seeming to savor her drink as she watches you over the rim. She tilts her head at you, her brows furrowing. “Apparently there’s a new Dominatrix in town, but nobody knows who she is.”

At that, you take a deep breath. New people in town always made you uneasy, your deep-rooted trust issues making themselves known with every new face you encountered. Tonight, you decided to shake it off, ridding yourself of the uneasy feeling that wrapped itself around your shoulders like a cloak. It lingered, refusing to let go. 

You took another sip of your drink.

The mindless chatter around you helped, and you nursed your drink as you sat and listened. Agatha did the same, occasionally checking her phone when Rio would text with an update. You didn’t snoop too much, but you got enough information to know that Agatha’s wife would be joining you shortly. 

Agatha’s hand never strayed far from you, her fingers strumming on the back of the couch near your head. You felt Rio’s presence before you saw her, a heady sort of scent descending as she came into view. Something about her always triggered your instinct to run, but you simply smiled and nodded at her as she seated herself in Agatha’s lap. 

By the time you’d finished your martini, the mass of people gathered in the lounge area had slowly been trickling into the adjacent, larger room. You weren’t particularly worried about finding a seat. Downing the rest of your drink, you set the glass gently on the table before standing and gesturing to Agatha and her coven.

“Ladies, shall we?”

Rio’s eyes sparkled, and she smiled widely at you. It was unnerving, but you simply smiled back as she stood, pulling Agatha with her. The rest of the coven was quick to follow, filing into the next room as you took a few deep breaths and tried to convince yourself that nothing bad was going to happen. 

The feeling of being watched hadn’t faded completely, but the slight buzz of alcohol in your system helped you ignore it. For the most part. 

Somebody near the stage area of the showroom was giving announcements, reminding everyone that the event would be starting soon as ushers led people to their seats. You nodded at one of them, their eyes lighting up in recognition as they bowed slightly, their arm outstretched towards the front row.

The crowd was murmuring amongst themselves as you walked towards your seat, a buzz of excitement present as the light dimmed slightly, a sort of spotlight appearing in stage. You sat, crossing your legs and focusing your attention. A heavy silence fell on the crowd, the anticipation so thick you could practically taste it. 

A young woman walked on stage, smiling at the crowd as they politely cheered, waving as she took her position in the center of the stage. She knelt, her blonde hair reflecting the spotlight slightly as she did so, her only clothing a comfortable-looking pair of underwear. Her hands rested palm-up on her thighs, her back straight, chest out, and chin raised high. She took a deep breath, preparing for the scene and calming any nerves she had. 

The crowd fell completely silent, only the rare shuffling of feet and the occasional cough sounding out as they waited. You felt your pulse racing, a sense of slight dread washing over you. You had a sinking feeling in your gut, like you knew who was about to walk out from the wings, and you weren’t sure whether to be frightened or aroused. 

You could sense her before you saw her, the scent of vanilla somehow making its way to your nose. The familiar energy of her scarlet wisps cracked in the air around you, even without a visual indication of them. Footsteps sounded out, and you recognized them as the heeled boots she sometimes wore to your fights. 

The crowd waited with hushed anticipation and barely concealed excitement, and you scoffed as you sat back, crossing your arms as your magic rose to your fingertips. You could feel Agatha’s eyes on you, observing your body language as the Dominatrix walked on stage. 

Wanda Maximoff stepped into the light, an easy smile on her face as she raised a hand to the crowd. A thunderous round of applause erupted, a feeling of excitement washing over the crowd at the new Dominatrix. You remained still, your eyes trailing over her. 

You had to admit, she looked good. The eyeliner she normally put on was nowhere to be found, a subtle smokey eye in its place, with just the barest hint of a red lipstick and a slight highlighter dusting her cheeks. It wasn’t enough to cover her freckles, and somehow it made her green eyes pop even more. The red leather jacket she was wearing perfectly accentuated her chest, waist, and hips, her silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. 

Green eyes met yours, and her smile morphed into a satisfied smirk as you let a scowl slide across your face. Wanda gave you a once over, before winking and turning her attention to the blonde submissive still kneeling obediently on the stage. 

A flash of hot anger ran through you. Who did she think she was?

Cool fingers touch the back of your neck, and you blink, ripping your gaze away from where Wanda was stroking the top of the submissive’s head and meeting Agatha’s gaze. She pointedly glanced down at your hands, and you quickly shoved your glowing fingertips into your pockets, praying that nobody had seen. 

“You know her,” Agatha states, her fingers still resting on the back of your neck. The coldness radiating from them helps ground you, your anger slowly dissipating the longer you look at her. 

“You could say that,” you grumble, returning your attention to the stage. 

The submissive now sits on a stool, her back straight and her eyes locked on Wanda. She’s the embodiment of obedience, her chest slightly red, a sign that she was feeling flushed. You can see her eyes glancing down at Wanda’s figure slightly, her lips turned up in the ghost of a smile. 

“Welcome,” Wanda speaks out, projecting her voice slightly. “Tonight, Elenor and I will be sharing with you all a shibari scene. This will not be an educational scene, so please, learn rope safety and attend one of the excellent educational classes this establishment offers before attempting this with your partner.”

She goes on to describe the types of rope she’ll be using, her fingers moving confidently as she talks to the audience. You clench your hands inside your pockets, feeling Agatha’s fingers gently rubbing the back of your neck. It’s soothing, and distracting you from the boiling anger you can feel bubbling in your chest. 

You focus on the features of her face. Her high cheekbones glitter with a subtle highlight, her lips reddened as she speaks. You find yourself mesmerised, your attention focused solely on her as she begins to wrap the rope around the blonde submissive. Her fingers stand out, moving confidently, like she’s handled roped for years. You wonder how long she’s been in the BDSM scene, given her knowledge. 

She looks young, and you find yourself noticing details about her that you hadn’t seen before. You hadn’t realised how many freckles dusted her cheeks. They were light, covered slightly by her makeup. Her eyes sparkled slightly from the lights as she spoke, glancing between the blonde submissive and the audience as she continued to wrap the ropes securely around her. 

Every so often, those green irises would flick over to you. 

Your heart thudded each time, a spark of… nervousness? No, it had to be hatred. It must be. Something would course through you with each small glance she sent your way. You watched her notice Agatha’s fingers on the back of your neck, her brow furrowing ever so slightly, a crinkle appearing between them. It made you want to smile, and you wondered if she was jealous. 

Wait. 

Why the fuck would you care if she was jealous?

A gasp rang out, the blonde girl’s lips parted in surprise as her pupils dilated. Wanda’s fingers were gripping the ropes, pulling her into a crawling position. The ropes formed a pentagram on her chest, her nipples hard and her breasts accented by the beautiful red rope wrapped around her torso. The girl’s eyes were locked on Wanda, her chest heaving slightly as Wanda dragged her forward, forcing her into a slow crawl across the stage. 

“As you can see,” Wanda’s voice carries amidst the silence, a note of anticipation from the crowd weighing heavily in the air. “The submissive is able to be led by this design, with no risk of injury to the neck or any major nerves.”

As if to prove her point, she jerks the girl forward quickly, her nose just barely brushing against hers. You see her smirk, and you immediately want to wipe it off. You know exactly what she looks like up close like that, you’ve been in enough fights with her to get in her personal space. 

Even now, you could remember every detail about those times. The way her warm breath washes over your lips, her brows furrowed as her eyes bore into yours. The faint scent of vanilla and sweat reaching your nose as her scarlet wisps angrily whipped through the air. Funnily enough, neither of you ever walked away with serious injuries. 

You refused to think about why that might be. 

Wanda Maximoff was evil. You hated her. That was it. Nothing else. 

Green eyes flicker over to you, and you mentally curse. You’d forgotten that she could read minds. You could have sworn you saw a glimpse of hurt reflected in those eyes you knew so well, and your chest ached for a moment. Then, they hardened, the familiar look of hatred and anger seeping back into them before she took a deep breath and returned her attention to the submissive. 

“What was that?” Agatha murmurs, her lips close to your ear. 

You huff, the jarring motion of your teeth grinding startling you slightly. “A distraction.” You answer, ignoring Agatha’s raised eyebrow, her face a mask of curiosity. She makes a small humming noise, turning her head and watching Wanda. 

The rest of the presentation goes by quickly after that, your chest burning and your eyes narrowed as you watch Wanda. At one point, she rolls her sleeves up, revealing a multitude of bracelets adorning her wrists, some made of thin strips of leather and others of dainty silver metal to match her rings. You try not to let your eyes linger for too long, your mind warring with itself as you silently seethe. 

The crowd begins to murmur, bodies shifting as the presentation comes to a close. The blonde submissive returns to her previous spot on the stage, kneeling with her palms on her thighs and her chest puffed out proudly. Wanda’s ropes wrap around her, twisting perfectly to accentuate her body, and security moves closer to warn the audience to only look, but not touch. You see Wanda take a small bow, thunderous applause erupting before she slips behind the curtain, the lingering weight of her presence still suffocating you.

“Impressive,” Rio mutters, her hand possessively making its way onto Agatha’s thigh. “We should try that.”

Agatha smirks, finally removing her hand from the back of your neck as she turns her full attention to her wife. You knock back the rest of your martini, already glancing towards the lounge area where the bar awaits. The only thing you wanted to do now was have another drink and flirt with some hot, dominant women.

—

The air is heavy, a musky sort of scent mixed with the sharp tang of alcohol lazily drifting through the air as you lazily run your fingers around the rim of your empty glass. Your fingers gently press into your temple as you rest your head on your hand, your gaze roaming around the room for a moment. 

Rio is on top of Agatha’s lap, her head thrown back as those sinfully full, purple-stained lips suck at her skin. You smirk slightly, running your eyes around the filled room once more before returning your attention to the woman in front of you. You had finished your drink half an hour ago, a pleasant buzz sitting beneath your skin as you took in her features. 

She was pretty, her thigh pressed against yours as you sat closely on the couch. She was talking slowly, something about her PhD thesis. You only half listened, mostly focused on her red lips and the way her eyeliner formed small, sharp wings. It reminded you of…

“Ma’am?” A voice startled you out of your thoughts, and you flushed slightly. The woman beside you jumped at the intrusion, her eyebrows rising higher at the way the security guard leans down to whisper in your ear. 

“Your presence has been requested in one of our private suites,” the man says, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. He gently takes your empty glass, your fingertips easily letting go as you blink at him.

“Oh,” you say, somewhat in a daze. Then, you let your curiosity get the better of you, standing and nodding slightly at Agatha when her eyes catch yours. You mutter a quick goodbye to the woman still seated on the couch, but her attention has already been directed elsewhere, her lips still moving as she begins to chat another woman’s ear off. 

Smirking slightly, and shaking your head in amusement, you allow yourself to be led from the room. The back of the man’s hair is slightly shiny, and you stare at it as he leads you into the hallway, the door shutting firmly and muffling most of the noise from the main lounge area. 

You’d been back here before, although never to a private suite. There are a multitude of bedrooms, cleaned in between every guest. You’ve fallen into the mattress quite a few times, exploring different parts of your submission and trying new kinks with more women than you could count. They were all dominant, and you enjoyed most of your experiences, but you’d never met with someone elite enough to use a private suite. 

Safe to say, your curiosity was piqued. 

The atmosphere changed slightly as you followed the security guard further into the club, the warm, dim light in the hallway seeming to stretch forever. The doors grew further apart, signaling that the rooms were getting bigger, and you couldn’t hear the sound of your own footsteps as you padded softly on a thick, plush carpet. 

“Room S,” the man says, stepping neatly to the side and gesturing toward the door handle. The bronze lettering stands out against the dark door, the letter S shining dully in the light as you search for something to say. 

Nodding once, the man gestures toward the door again before smartly turning on his heel and walking back in the direction you’d come from. You simply blink at him, watching his retreating form for a moment before returning your attention to the door. 

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you readjust your shirt and run your fingers through your hair. Your fingers wrap around the door handle, the cold metal grounding you as you turn it, silently entering the room. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” a voice drawls, and you freeze as the door shuts behind you. There, on the bed with a leg casually crossed over the other and a rather bored expression on her face, sits Wanda. 

White magic fills the room before you can even fully process her presence. Your fingers burn with raw energy, your eyes focused on her as your stance changes. You barely even recognize it as a fighting stance, your mind instinctively shutting down so she won’t be able to read your thoughts. 

“Relax,” she says, her accent wrapping around the word. She runs her hand through her hair, tossing it over her shoulder before smoothly standing, tilting her head at you. 

It’s then that you realize there are no scarlet tendrils or wisps present. Those green eyes are narrowed, wary slightly as she pointedly glances at your hands. She’s still wearing the same outfit you’d seen earlier, and you feel your brows furrow in slight confusion when she begins to slowly remove her rings. 

The metal clangs together as she tosses them into a wooden bowl on the stand near the bed, her movements languid even as you observe the tight line of her shoulders. You lower your hands, reeling your magic back in. You can feel it just beneath the surface of your skin, racing and twisting as it waits for your command. 

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Nice outfit,” Wanda remarks, completely ignoring your question. She pulls her bracelets off, dropping them into the bowl before turning to face you. She raises her hands lazily in mock surrender, before slowly stepping toward you. “Too bad I’m going to ruin it by the end of the night.”

You chuckle, watching her as she continues to step closer, your own feet moving backward in response. “It’s not like you haven’t done that before,” you say, remembering all the times she’d ripped through your shirt with her hands, or her scarlet magic had left singes in your pants from where a tendril had wrapped around your leg. 

“Ah,” Wanda’s eyes glint slightly, a look in them that you can’t decipher. “I’m going to ruin them in a different way tonight.”

Narrowing your eyes, you open your mouth to question her further, but instead of words, a small gasp escapes you as your back hits the door. Your fingers meet the solid wood, the rough texture molding itself to your back as Wanda steps closer. 

She’s walking slowly, as if approaching a cornered animal. Or perhaps, in better terms, like a predator advancing on its trapped prey. You want to run, your mind screaming at you to move, but all you do is stay still, your muscles as tight as a drawn bowstring. The lack of full breaths is making your head spin, and you blame that on the way your eyes glance around her face and settle on her lips. 

Wanda’s lips are turned into a small smile, the red stain on them mocking you as your traitorous tongue quickly licks your own lips. You can’t tell what you want, all you know is that the scent of vanilla is engulfing you and you can feel your mind growing fuzzier and Wanda’s green eyes are hot as they rake down your body with intent and her palms are suddenly resting on the door beside your head and her lips are right fucking there and-

Your lips tingle when she presses her own lips against yours. It’s brief, only for a moment, but you feel something inside of you snap as you come to a realization. She pulls back, searching your wide eyes with her own as she waits with bated breath. 

“I disliked seeing another woman with her hands on you,” she confesses, the dark look in her eyes warring with confusion as she tilts her head. The action sends a terrifying chill down your spine, but this time its mixed with something warm and electrifying. “It made me want to…” Wanda doesn’t finish the sentence, simply shaking her head as her mouth opens and closes, frustration building on her perfect features. 

Fuck. 

Your heart pounds as you raise slightly sweaty palms to meet her waist. It’s somehow both hard and soft beneath your fingers, the curve of her body tantalizing as you slowly pull her closer. Her eyes snap up to meet yours, and you feel your body burn as you remember the way she’s pulled that blonde submissive around by the rope she’d so carefully wrapped around her chest and torso. 

“I hate you,” the words are murmured, almost directly against Wanda’s lips. They’re true, you do hate her. You hate everything she stands for, a vigilante who destroys whatever she deems as morally corrupt, without thinking of the consequences afterward or the people her actions affect. But, you don’t want anyone else to have her. She’s yours. You’ve fought her enough times to have memorized the way her body moves, the microexpressions on her face telling you everything you need to know about her thoughts, her fingers feeling familiar against your skin. 

The burning feeling that started from the moment she walked on stage had only intensified once she touched that blonde submissive. You recognized what it was now. It wasn’t hatred, like you’d originally labeled it as. Rather, it was a deep-rooted, intense feeling of possessiveness. After all, who besides you was a constant in Wanda’s life? You’d done enough research on her to know that she didn’t have a coven, family, or even a regular group of friends around her. 

“I hate you too,” Wanda whispers, and in that instant, you know that she feels the same way about you that you feel for her. 

No more words need to be said, the energy rippling beneath your skin surging forward as you dig your fingers into her waist and pull her flush against you. Her lips meet yours, a desperate give-and-pull of teeth biting furiously and tongues meeting as your nerves roared at the sensation. 

She felt better than you could have ever imagined, your body already used to hers being close by. Normally, her weight would be on top of you or underneath you as you scrabbled desperately for an upper hand. Tonight, however, you felt your body slipping easily into its submissive role, your mind fighting to stay above the fuzzy headspace you knew so well.

“Who is that woman?” Wanda asks you, one hand tangling with your head and yanking your head back as a throaty gasp escapes you. You feel your skull connect with a dull thud against the heavy door, her teeth scraping up the sides of your neck as she waits for a response. 

“Which one?” 

“The one with her hands all over you,” Wanda snarls, her hand tightening in your hair. 

You simply laugh, your hands slipping under her shirt and raking down her sides as you lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of her body against yours. Her chest presses against you, and you can feel her breasts move with every heaving breath she takes, her lips sucking dark, possessive marks into your skin. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, there are lots of women who’ve had their hands all over me.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” Wanda remarks, her voice acidic as she pulls back. Her green eyes search yours, the smokey makeup look only serving to make them stand out even more. You think it’s hot, and you roll your eyes at the smirk that rolls onto her face. 

You hated that she could read your thoughts. 

“I’m talking about the one with the purple eye makeup and the crazy brown hair with her hand practically glued to the back of your neck during my presentation,” she hisses, bringing her lips close to your ear. You shiver, goosebumps erupting as she licks the shell of your ear. “Ring any bells? Or are you just as empty-headed as you look?”

“I never took you for the jealous type,” you respond, ignoring her question and smiling at the way she pulls back, an offended look on her face. Before she can respond, you surge forward, forcing her to walk backward toward the bed as your lips connect once again. 

This time, you let her dominate the kiss, focusing more on removing her red jacket. The leather is slightly cold, and Wanda makes impatient noises as she helps you slide it off her arms, before wrapping her hands around the back of your neck in a eerily similar fashion to Agatha’s. Her fingers dig in, and you can’t suppress the whine that escapes you. 

Wanda eagerly swallows the noise, her teeth biting down on your bottom lip before she harshly sucks it between her own. She releases it with a pop, her eyes intent as she looks at you. Your fingers pause briefly from where they’re pulling up her shirt, and she allows you to remove it before her hands return to your neck, one of them wrapping loosely around it.

“I’m not jealous, I simply don’t want another woman touching what’s mine,” Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright with need and something darker that you don’t really want to try and understand in this moment.

“Oh, I’m yours, am I?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” You pull back, allowing her to remove your shirt. Her fingernails scrape lightly against your sides as she does so, and you resent the wave of arousal that shoots through you at the sensation. “In that case, I suppose you’re mine as well, then.”

“We’ve always belonged to each other,” Wanda states, as though it's a fact. Although, you suppose, it is a fact. You don’t get the chance to respond before her hands grip you firmly and twirl you around, the back of your knees hitting the mattress. 

With a smirk, Wanda presses a hand against your sternum and shoves you. 

The air in your lungs escapes all at once as your back hits the mattress, and you feel Wanda’s deft fingers easily undoing your belt and sliding your pants down your legs. True to her word, something rips as she does so, but she pays it no mind. You don’t even have the capacity to feel ashamed or upset about it. The only thing you feel is intense, hot arousal and a lingering sense of anger. It feels almost like an echo now, but it fuels you enough to reach up and grab Wanda by the straps of her bra, bringing her body down against yours. 

A scuffle ensues, one that leaves you breathless with your head near the headboard, your hair sticking slightly to your damp forehead. The brief battle for control ends with Wanda’s hands firmly wrapped around your wrists as she pins you to the mattress, her thighs squeezing your hips as she holds you in place. Her pants were lost in the struggle, the two of you observing each other with your chests heaving and lingerie somehow still fully intact. 

The milky expanse of her smooth skin takes your breath away all over again, and you moan when she dips her head and runs her tongue over your collarbones. Your arousal is burning you from the inside out, your skin flushed and nerves racing with electricity. The magic beneath your skin glows slightly, and you pretend not to notice Wanda’s soft sound of awe.

“Fuck me,” you say, your tone urgent. “I need your fingers, your mouth… anything. But I need it now, Wanda.”

Those green eyes light up, and she pretends to think, ignoring your rising annoyance. “Hmm,” she pulls at the strap of your bra with her teeth, letting it snap back against your skin. You flinch, the pain sending a wave of arousal through you. “Why don’t you beg for it.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Wanda’s eyes are hard, a cold expression in them as she pulls back. Her scarlet magic appears, a tendril quickly wrapping around your wrists and pulling them toward the headboard, restraining you. She pulls back, biting her bottom lip as she traces those long fingers against the fabric of your bra. “Beg.”

Bucking your hips, you attempt to throw her off, frustration building when the movement only causes her pelvis to grind harder against yours. Even more infuriating is the smirk that slides across her face, her fingers twisting as her magic wraps around your bra, the scarlet wisps contrasting perfectly with your skin.

Feeling the slight burn and tingle of her magic as it rolls over your bra and brushes against your sensitive skin, you gasp when it ingrains itself with the fabric and suddenly burns. In the blink of an eye, your bra disappears, your nipples rock-hard and aching to be touched. 

Wanda’s fingers glide over your exposed skin, her fingers mere centimeters away from where you need her. Your body craves stimulation, and you feel tears of frustration prick the corners of your eyes as you gaze up at her. 

“Please,” you manage, hating how weak you sound. Your voice is the wrong pitch, and it’s all breathy. You never thought you’d actually be asking Wanda Maximoff for anything, much less begging for it, but fuck you needed this.

“You can do better than that,” Wanda states, her tone icy as she looks down at you with what seems like disinterest. You can see right through it. Her pupils are dilated, and her breath keeps catching every time she lets her eyes roam over your flushed face and nude chest. Her fingers slowly cup the underside of your breasts, her thumbs practically brushing over your nipples, and the sudden desire to be touched mixed with anger sweeps over you. 

“Fuck you, Wanda. Give me what I want,” you snarl, pulling harshly at the scarlet tendril restraining your hands. White magic spills from your palms, circling the air around you as Wanda throws her head back and laughs. “Please, just… please touch me.”

Green eyes widen as Wanda looks back down at you, her gaze flitting to the white magic surrounding the two of you. Her expression flickers at the realization that your magic isn’t attacking her, but rather just manifesting because of your strong desires and emotions. She smirks, her thumbs finally brushing over your nipples as she says, “That’ll do, I suppose.”

The moan that erupts from you sounds nothing like you. It’s high-pitched and needy, and Wanda’s fingers begin to pinch and roll your nipples. You’ve never had this type of reaction, this burning need for stimulation, and every action she does only stokes the fire building within you. 

Wanda wastes no time, quickly descending your body with her hot tongue and deft fingers, peeling your damp underwear away from you and choking back a moan at the taste of you. Her tongue is strong, collecting your arousal and flicking over your protruding clit as your hips thrust against her face. Her fingers grip your hips, holding you down and leaving faint bruises from the effort. 

She loves that she’s getting to see you like this, a burning sort of jealousy rising with the obsessive possessiveness she already feels towards you. There’s a reason why she keeps finding you, or letting you find her only to end the interaction with a fight. You’re hers, and you have been since the moment she laid eyes on you. How disappointing it was that you continued to fight her. 

Smirking, Wanda let her lips create suction over your clit, pulling it between her teeth and gently circling her tongue around it while your soft pleas turned into incoherent babbles as you felt your orgasm rise. She removes one of her hands from your hips, collecting your arousal on her fingertips before smoothly sliding two fingers deep inside you. 

“That’s right,” she says, watching you with glinting eyes, a scarlet hue glowing slightly as she scans your surface thoughts, sensing your orgasm is near. “Take my fingers like the desperate slut that you are. I bet you’d let anyone fuck you, isn’t that right?”

You can’t comprehend what she’s saying, but you nod anyway, whines sounding out as your lips tremble. You’ve never been this aroused, and the quickly rising orgasm threatens to tear through you at any moment. 

“Not anymore,” Wanda mutters, curling her fingers while her thumb begins to move quickly and firmly against your clit, your moans cutting off as your body is wracked with pleasure. “Only I get to have you like this. I’m the only one who gets to touch you, that’s the way it always should have been. God, you’re so fucking infuriating. Always on a moral high ground and goading me into fighting. I fucking hate you and your perfect smile and your raw power that makes my skin tingle whenever you get too close. And don’t even get me started on how pathetic you look after I’ve beaten you, your eyes all glazed and your face flushed.”

Wanda suddenly changes positions, her face hovering right over yours as she continues to pump her fingers in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. “Only I should be able to see you like that. And so far, only I have.” She chuckles at your slightly confused expression.

“How many bad guys have you fought in the last two years?” Wanda asks, her voice slightly condescending, as if she was asking a child a simple question. 

“Uh… you.” Those are the only words you can manage, your brain trying to think of any others, but the blinding pleasure forcing its way through your body scatters your thoughts every time you manage to gather them. 

“That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said all night,” Wanda remarks, a biting tone in her voice. “Well done. And who do you think was keeping all the other bad guys away from you?”

“You,” the words are whispered as the realization hits you. 

Wanda smiles at you, a dangerous edge to it. “Exactly. Because you’re mine. Even though I fucking hate you, and I’ll fight you until you finally admit defeat and stop ruining all my plans, you belong to me. Is that clear?”

You shake your head, disbelief showing on your face, even as your lips part in pleasure. Your mind is warring with itself again, her words sinking in even as your orgasm draws close, your body close to falling over the edge. It burns within you, your muscles tensing in anticipation as you shudder and tremble beneath her. 

“Say it and I’ll let you cum,” Wanda says, her voice sickly sweet. Bending down, she brushes her lips against yours, keeping the same steady rhythm as she fucks you with talented fingers. You want to kiss her and shove her away at the same time. It’s a trap, but at this point, you’d do anything to cum. And she knows it.

“I’m yours,” you whisper. 

Scarlet magic glows for a moment, something ancient and binding swirling through the air that neither of you fully understand, but you don’t quite care. Wanda’s smile turns triumphant, her fingers finally coaxing you over the edge as her other hand wraps loosely around your throat. Her green eyes glint, something dark behind them as she murmurs, “That’s right, you’re mine.” 

The pleasure that consumes you is blinding, your vision covered in white spots, a scarlet wisp dancing across your vision as your muscles seize from the force of your orgasm. You can feel Wanda’s fingers coaxing every last drop of pleasure from you, a bead of sweat dripping down your neck only to be licked up by a warm tongue. Your ears ring, your magic seeping out of every pore and wrapping around both you and Wanda, the scorching raw power making your skin feel as though it had been rubbed raw.

It’s utterly intoxicating.

By the time you can see and breathe properly again, Wanda is already licking her fingers clean, moaning softly at the taste. The sight could have brought you over the edge again, but your body protests, relaxing fully as you finally feel her scarlet restraints fade, your arms feeling like jelly as you bring your arms away from the headboard. 

“Admit it, I’m the best you’ve ever had,” Wanda says, smirking at you while you catch your breath. Her eyes roam down your slightly sweaty body, her fingers twitching at the sight of your juices smeared over your inner thighs and dripping down onto the sheet.

“Fuck you.”

“Hmm,” Wanda shoots you a look, “Maybe next time.”

You roll your eyes, dropping your head back onto the pillow as Wanda moves around near the foot of the bed. Normally, you’d be concerned about her movements, watching her and anticipating her next move, but you’d just had the best orgasm of your entire life. You were in no condition to properly observe her.

“The best orgasm of your life?” Wanda’s voice sounds out, and you raise your head to look at her. Your eyes widen, blinking slightly as you glance between her serious expression and the large scarlet strap she’s holding. She smirks, “We’ve only just started.”

—

You’d promised yourself that it wouldn’t happen again. You’d scoffed when Wanda had said, “Same time next week, then?”

She hadn’t really expected you to show up, not that week at least. But you had. Honestly, how could you not? You’d seen her on the news, fighting some random superhero and easily blasting him into a building. The wave of jealousy that had washed over you was too intense to ignore, and you couldn’t help but meet her again. 

You didn’t want anyone else fighting her, it suddenly felt too intimate. You didn’t want anyone else to learn her tells, or how she fought. No, that was reserved solely for you. Besides, it turns out that she was really fucking good at being a dominatrix.

At The Crimson Crow, in private suite S, the two of you didn’t fight. It turned into a sort of safe haven, an area with an unspoken truce. You both needed something from each other, something only the other could give you, The entire world knew of your animosity, of your epic fights with contrasting white and scarlet magic, and the destruction you left behind after a battle. It felt good to have something that the world didn’t know about. 

Wanda Maximoff hated you, and you hated her right back. But she was yours, and you were hers. And that was enough.

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