#Bottom!Wanda

[randomshyperson]

My Sweet Valentine - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Delayed in planning Valentine's Day, you and Wanda try to do something together. The spider routine ends up getting in the way, but that doesn't mean the date was lost.

Warnings: (+18) bottom!wanda, enchanted strap, creampie, fingering, dry humping, very fluff and domestic, established relationship, both r and w are briefly specified to be introverted. | Words: 3.206k

A/N-> I had this idea while I was rewatching Sound!Euphonium, I didn't catch the relation to it but I ended up writing this on my phone again so forgive me if there are spelling mistakes. It's always great writing Spider!Reader, I hope you enjoy it.

General Masterlist | AO3 |

-&-

To plan Valentine's Day with your girlfriend should be an easy thing. 

But for two Avengers who happen to be the most introverted antisocial people on earth - and those were Natasha's Romanoff words, not yours - the task could be really hard.

But it was you and Wanda's first Valentine's Day as a couple and you were really late on schedule.

While Natasha planned to have the most incredible and romantic trip to Greece with Maria and Tony and Pepper made reservations at some exclusive fancy Italian restaurant, you and Wanda were side to side laying on your apartment carpet. Trying to decide what you could do together by reading some flyers that were spread around the floor.

Wanda had one of the fancy restaurants in her hands when she suggested: “How about dinner?”

You gaze at the restaurant propaganda, recognizing the name and the building from your little web-swinging adventures.

���The Geller’s is nice but it will be really crowded during Valentine's. And we both hate when places are too full.” You reason, receiving an agreement sound. “Maybe we can ask for takeout?”

Wanda chuckles. “On Valentine's Day? Every place will mess up our orders, I'm sure of it. Places are normally understaffed, ordering food on holidays is like asking for them to mess up your food.”

You sigh deeply. “Yeah, you're totally right. So, maybe I can cook?”

She smiles. “We are going for food poisoning then, huh?” She teases making you chuckle with an expression of false offense. You playfully bumped your shoulder on hers but you don't move away after. The touch is warm and nice. “You cook then.”

“Yeah, but is not like we would find any free spots anywhere. We delay this way too much.” She mutters without sounding really upset. Her words were true, you both have been dancing around this date for almost three months now ever since Tony showed everyone his and Pepper's reservations. But neither of you was that anxious to be locked with another hundred couples in some loud restaurant with extra expensive and not-that-good food.

The restaurants were not the only thing discarded - Yelena and Kate's idea of a date, and band concerts were also politely declined. Mostly because neither you nor Wanda felt like facing a whole weekend of poor public hygiene and the crazy routine of musical festivals while babysitting Natasha's little sister who would definitely get really drunk with her girlfriend.

Steve was the one who suggested the most quiet and family thing, a road trip to the countryside. But since he was going with Bucky and you and Wanda didn't wish to be traumatized by their physical display of affection, their invitation was also declined.

Back on the floor of your apartment, you helped Wanda with the papers around the floor.

You were worried she would be upset about the lack of plans - even Sam with his eternal bachelor status was having a date night with some old colleague from the army. You worried that Wanda might think you're not excited to spend time with her when it is pretty much the opposite of it.

“You know, we don't really have to do anything just because everyone is doing.” You start, hands ready to catch the papers she's bringing. “We could just watch a movie.”

Wanda smiles, the papers are put in your hands but she doesn't move hers away.

“If you brought wine it would be like any other date night.”

“That's not a bad thing, right?” You retort immediately, eyes anxious towards hers. She frowns, a confused chuckle escaping her.

“No, I mean… you think that too right?”

You shrug; “I just want to spend Valentine's and any other day with you, Wands. What we are doing doesn't matter much.”

She smiles, coming closer to kiss you on the lips. But the kiss is quicker than you wished. One of her hands caresses your cheek as she speaks:

“Good to know, darling, 'cause I'll be watching you do the dishes tonight.”

You chuckle, rolling her eyes at her teasing but pouting when she escapes your attempt at a second kiss.

-&-

Valentine's Day is unfortunately a busy day for the spider.

It was true that you and Wanda didn't plan anything big but you wanted to bring her some flowers and her favorite chocolate but after fighting another dressed-up lunatic at the city hall and avoiding three different catastrophes, anything inside your backpack was definitely destroyed.

You swing back into your apartment with the mess of your gifts dripping to the floor. The wine bottle broke and soaked the chocolate and the poor flowers. Bye-bye to any college homework you forgot there.

Throwing the item at the sink, your body towards the couch was the second thing you threw. 

And against the soft pillows the day tiredness caught up at you. With the thought that you would rest your eyes for five minutes, you woke up hours later with the door locked.

Wanda's angry arrival was also an efficient clock.

“God, what is wrong with you? I've been calling you all day!” She slammed the door behind her, and the next second the day's newspaper was thrown at you. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? We have talked about this! You can't just fight some three-sized villain and vanish without a word! I thought-” But she stops herself, taking a deep breath when her voice cracks. You feel so terrible sorry. You know very well that Wanda has lost enough people for the whole ghosting thing to be too hard on her. Intentional or not. 

You get up. “Hey, I'm so sorry Wands, my phone broke and I came right here and closed my eyes for like two seconds. I'm sorry.” But Wanda shook her head, covering her eyes for a moment. She was not even that mad at you, it was clearly an accident that you forgot to call. But she has been so nervous all day worried about you that she needed a minute. Suddenly, she catches a glimpse of the wine-soaked flowers at the kitchen counter and frowns. “What is that?”

The slight indignation about the mess of an apartment you both worked hard to keep clean vanished the second she realized those were gifts.

You fixed your hair awkwardly. “Hm, I was trying to make a romantic gesture. But I forgot I'm always on some freak radar.”

Wanda's hands reached for the flowers and as gentle as her touch, her magic flowed from her fingers to take all the wine away. In no time, the petals were as beautiful and healthy as when you brought it.

“This is really not fair, darling.” She starts, moving to check the rest of the gifts. “You made it to the front page and I have every right to be mad you didn't call through the suit to let me know you're alive.” You wanted to mutter that you're still getting used to the new suit and its high-tech functions, but Wanda is turning at you again with crossed arms.

“It’s not fair, how hard you're making to stay mad at you.”

You gave her a lopsided smile. “So, you like the chocolate that much, huh?”

She rolled her eyes, trying to contain her smile. “Why don't you go shower while I make dinner? There's grease from Rino's suit all over your face.”

You click with your tongue, swinging a little. “Let me guess, you not joining me at the shower is my punishment for not calling through the suit?”

She finally let that smile escape. “Clever girl.”

You chuckle to yourself before nodding and heading to the bathroom.

-&-

Forgotten dinner plates at the living room table when Wanda reached the chocolate box. She shared them with you during the sitcom marathon you too were doing but after finding yourself hypnotized by her laugh for the fourth time in a row, you gave up eating at all.

The last chocolate was put away when she caught you staring.

“What?” 

“What what?” You retort with a chuckle, having some pride over the soft blush of her cheeks.

“You were staring.” She says then, drifting her gaze from the TV to you with some resistance. You know her enough that it's because Wanda is terrible at hiding her own shyness under your loving glance. She always was. 

“Can you blame me?” Your teasing just makes her blush more. You just decide to make it worse. “You're simply too charming not to be looked at. So gorgeous, so pretty. I feel so lucky.”

“Stop it.” She giggles with rosy cheeks at your praise. But despite her words, she opens her arms as an invitation for you to come closer. You practically jump from your spot - a few centimeters from her since your last trip to the kitchen to grab sodas - and greet the warmth of her embrace.

Wanda hugs your body while you melt into her, the soft caress on your spine being more than enough to bring back your interrupted slumber that evening. But somehow you manage to stay wide awake, perhaps because the way you press your face into her boobs makes her giggle and playfully tug at your hair, which happens to have a completely different effect on you. 

Her body tenses up a little when your lips start sucking at her collarbone, a heavy sigh escaping her lips. You suddenly recall that it has been some time, a week maybe two since you had enough free time to be this close. 

Your lovely girlfriend probably missed you as much as you missed her.

The soft sucking turns into something more determined, then into a bite and a licking that turns Wanda into a panting mess. She grows restless under you, fingers tugging at your hair with some guidance towards your movements in her neck until finally, your mouth meets her again.

Hot open-mouthed kisses before softer ones. You kiss and she kisses you back until all of your clothes are disheveled around your bodies and she looks up at you with pleading eyes and slightly open lips. Begging for more.

“Wanna take this to the bedroom?” You suggest inches from her lips but she shakes her head, fingers dancing under your shirt.

“You can have me right here.” She whispers back, stealing all your coherent thoughts for a second. 

Your hands are shaking a bit with eagerness when you pull at your clothes, with Wanda's help they are off in no time. Her chest heaves when you take her top off and Wanda stares back while you can't seem to be able to look away from her tits.

“You good there?” She teases you breathlessly when your lack of action lingers. You chuckle, hands at her sides. 

“Yeah, just give me a minute.” You retort managing an affectionate roll of eyes from her.

“You're such a dork.” She giggles but purposely lifts her chest in your direction, making you swallow hard. When you don't take the bait immediately, she sighs. “I would love for you to more than stare, detka.”

You groan, hovering over her. “Well, your wish is my command, madam” You reply, leaning down to capture her lips. Teasing Wanda with soft bites on her lower lip every time you break the kiss before starting another turns her into a needy mess under you. She gets impatient very quickly and brings her hands to your cheeks, pulling you down with determination. Her tongue takes the lead in a heated kiss that takes all the air out of your lungs. 

Panting against her mouth while trying to match the intensity of her demand, you let your hands grope around her body towards her chest, effectively taking the lead again when you start playing with her hardened nipples and Wanda loses her ability to kiss you back.

When she whimpers into your mouth, her hips restless while your fingers pinch her cute tits, you chuckle. “Ah, is there something you want, baby?”

She struggles to speak firmly. "I need you to stop teasing and fuck me." You grunt at her answer. You would have obeyed immediately if you hadn't been able to feel Wanda shaking. She gasps as you adjust, your knee finding her middle and giving her something to grind against as you resume your actions on her breasts. She throws her head back, biting her lip hard as her hips move almost of their own accord.

It's a hot mess, her first orgasm of the night. You didn't even have to take off all her clothes. When Wanda shivers terribly, and you feel the wetness against your knee, you bite down at her tit and that makes her let out a muffled scream.

Wanda is panting and her face is very flushed when you look at her again, her expression satisfied after an intense orgasm.

You hum happily, moving your hands down as you tilt your face to kiss her on the lips. She gasps into your mouth when she feels your fingers draw a path through her ruined panties.

"You made such a mess, sweetheart." You whisper between one kiss and another, two digits pushing gently without even removing her underwear. Wanda arches toward you, squeezing your shoulders for something to hold on to. Her green eyes are completely dilated now and you love how they display a vulnerable begging. Pulling your fingers out again, you let your thumb draw circles on her covered clit and enjoy the way her thighs tremble around you. "Tell me what you want, Wanda."

She has a little difficulty responding while feeling you teasing her, but despite noticing her heartbeat against your fingertips, you don't interrupt your movements. If anything, they become even more determined. Wanda pants, hips trying to match the rhythm of your fingers.

"C-can we use the strap tonight?" She manages out of breath. "I like feeling you come inside me."

Your witch girlfriend's favorite toy is somewhere in the room, and given the busy schedule of two superheroes, it wasn't used as often as you would like. Wanda has barely suggested, and you're already nodding, panting aroused just imagining yourself stretching Wanda again.

But suddenly your fingers push the fabric out of the way, and you sink inside her without warning, ripping a moan from her throat.

"Give me one more first." You demand, watching as Wanda nods in near desperation, brow furrowed at her rapidly building orgasm. Your rhythm is brutal, and she squeezes and squeezes until you can barely push your fingers inside her. You bring your free hand to one of her thighs, forcing her open as you adjust to improve your reach. Wanda sees stars. She lets go of your shoulders to grab the cushions and ends up destroying half of them with magical expelling when she finally falls over the edge.

An impressed chuckle escapes you at the scene. You're usually the one responsible for destroying things with your spider strength - It's always nice to see Wanda lose some of the control she's fought so hard to have.

Kissing her softly, you feel her smile in some exhaustion. She needs a few seconds, so you pull out your fingers and suck them clean while green eyes watch you from below. Wanda wants to kiss you again, but you adjust to carry her on your lap, and after two orgasms in a row, she won't contradict you.

She feels the soft blankets against her back a moment later and relaxes fully into the bed as you move around the room working to find and put on the strap. It doesn't take more than two minutes, yet Wanda sighs impatiently before letting her hands roam her own body, pinching her breasts and teasing downwards. She bites her lip at the soaked state she finds herself in, tentatively collecting some of that moisture before hearing a husky laugh that makes her look up.

"You don't have to play alone, I'm right here." You let her know softly, but Wanda swallows at the sight of your naked figure and the enchanted hardness between your legs. Of all the things she learned to do, that honestly has to be her best spell. One of your hands grabs the silicone, instinctively or not, imitating the masturbation gesture that Wanda is making and she shudders to the tips of her toes, her body on fire. Her hand moves out of her panties immediately, raising it into the air in a beckoning gesture. You don't need to be told twice.

It's a breathless kiss when you reach her face again, equally eager to feel each other, there's a little war of pushing and pulling until Wanda feels completely pressed into the bed, the strap rubbing against her entrance.

You pull away when she whimpers - It's just to pull down her panties, and Wanda kicks the item away as you climb back up. Your mouth finds hers again so that when you align the strap and sink into her, you can swallow her moans.

The stretch is slow and careful, very different from the breathless way you were making out a few minutes ago. Wanda lets her nails dig into your lower back as you fight the urge to be rougher.

She gets used to the size very quickly, the creaminess of her previous orgasms making an obscene sound that makes her ears redden. You break the kiss to ask if she's ready and the only response you get is a determined throw of her hips up that registers her impatience.

In all quickies, you're always rough. Desperate to feel her, because you miss Wanda as much as she misses you, and in the rush, there's no time to prolong moments like this. But it's the first time in many months that you're relaxed, and you can thrust slowly and sensually inside Wanda, letting her feel every movement of your cock inside her warm walls as you kiss her and whisper praises in her ear.

Heat is spread under your skin, and sweat accumulates with the slow stimulation. You feel closer each time you sink inside her, and when Wanda starts whimpering in your ear, it feels like an impossible task to hold it.

"You're close?" You pant, hips starting to buckle. "I don't think… I can hold it anymore... Wands-" You choke, letting your face fall against her collarbone. The knot in your abdomen explodes without warning, and you moan deeply as you spill yourself inside Wanda, the enchanted strap vibrating inside her. It turns out that feeling you come was the push she needed, and Wanda sobs as she feels the blinding pleasure hit her, following you into climax a second later.

For a moment, all that can be heard in that room are your breathless sighs until your hoarse and satisfied chuckles emerge.

You remain inside her when you adjust so that you rest your elbows on the mattress and see her face.

"Hey, little witch."

She pushes back her sweaty hair with one hand, the other moving to rest on your neck. "Hey, spider."

Your nose brushes against hers. "I think we nailed Valentine's Day."

She giggles before pulling you for a kiss.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 24 - Enchanted Strap

pairing: sub!Wanda x dom!Reader

summary: Wanda tries a new spell.

content warnings: strap-on, blowjob

word count: 1k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

“Hey,” you say, dragging out the end of the word as you walk towards where Wanda is seated on the couch. She sets her book down as you approach, smiling up at you as you gently sit down on her lap, draping yourself over it. 

“Remember the spell I asked you about?” 

Wanda chuckles at that, her cheeks growing slightly pink. She nods, biting her lip as her hand slowly rubs your thigh. 

You smile back at her, one of your hands coming up to cup her cheek, loving the way she nuzzles into it. Your fingers gently stroke her soft skin, moving to tuck her hair behind her ear. Truly, you were lucky to have Wanda as a girlfriend, and the fact that she was a witch only made you love her more. 

She’d been nervous to tell you at first, but your eyes had lit up and you’d cupped her jaw and told her to show you more in that commanding, breathless tone of yours. Wanda didn’t have the willpower to deny you, so she’d demonstrated her powers for you as you’d watched with child-like glee, your eyes wide and hands still gentle and loving when you touched her. 

You were the first person she’d ever told about her powers, and she couldn’t have been luckier to have you. 

“I want you to use it,” you say, your fingers moving to play with a few strands of her auburn hair. 

Wanda blushes harder at that. God, she gets so adorably shy. It's one of the most endearing things about her, truly, you love it. Her hands move slightly quicker against your thigh, and you can practically hear the thoughts spinning around in her mind. 

“Now, love,” you say, dropping your voice lower as you stand. Holding out a hand, you help Wanda up from the couch, smiling at the quiet ‘yes, darling’ that she responds with. 

You watch her walk toward the bedroom, shamelessly admiring her silhouette. Feeling yourself growing wet, you sink back onto the couch with a slight groan. Picking up Wanda’s book, you make sure to save her spot before setting it on the coffee table and stretching out on your stomach. 

The urge to rut your hips and grind into the cushion is strong, but you refuse to be caught in such a position. You could control yourself, you weren’t some… animal that just gave into their urges on a whim. But, you were pretty sure that wouldn’t last long tonight. 

After some time, Wanda calls your name from the bedroom. You feel your heart rate jump in anticipation, the heat between your thighs becoming almost unbearable. 

You slowly walk toward the room, steeling yourself as your nerves spike with excitement. The room is dark when you enter, a single lamp illuminating Wanda’s figure as she sits on the edge of the bed. She’s holding something in her hands, and you smile at her as you close the door behind you. 

“Put it on me, sweetheart,” you murmur, stepping further into the room. 

“Come here then,” Wanda says, her voice only slightly shaky as she commands you. A slight chuckle escapes you before you raise an eyebrow at her and move to stand directly in front of her. 

Her hands tremble slightly as she raises the harness to your hips, the dark red strap-on looking absolutely perfect in the dim lighting. God, you really hoped this spell worked. 

“I said the incantation correctly, so just… let me know what you’re feeling, okay?” Wanda says softly, her hands quickly securing the straps around your hips and thighs. 

You let your hands run through her hair as she works, your fingernails scraping against her head slightly. Feeling her tighten the last strap, you watch her lean back to admire her handiwork.

“Well,” you say, tilting your head. “Go on.” 

Wanda looks at you with wide, hungry eyes. Her pupils are already blown, and you know that she’d probably worked herself up just by enchanting the dildo. Sliding off the bed, Wanda gets on her knees in front of you, her hands coming up to rest on your hips. 

“Suck it.”

Obeying, Wanda wraps her lips around your strap, and that’s when you feel it. 

Oh. God. 

The sensation of her lips and tongue swirling around the tip of your strap causes your knees to buckle. Wanda’s strong hands support you, spinning you around until you’re seated on the edge of the bed, your hands gripping the comforter tightly. 

Emboldened by your reaction, Wanda takes you further into her mouth, loving the way you moan and buck your hips. One of your hands moves to grip her hair, the painful sensation causing her to moan. 

Everything happens all at once. Her moan vibrates against your strap, and the added sensation causes your orgasm to wash over you. It’s powerful, and you lose control slightly as you fuck yourself further into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat. 

Wanda’s fingers dig into your hips, but you hold her head painfully still as you spasm and jerk, your orgasm causing all of your muscles to lock up. Her pitiful whines and choked sounds cause another, smaller orgasm to wash over you, and you pant as she takes you further down your throat. 

The sensation of Wanda’s head bobbing up and down your strap sends your brain into overdrive. You finally feel the aftershocks hit, the peak of your orgasm fading as pleasure continues to roll through you. 

“Fuck,” Wanda chokes, finally pulling her mouth free from your strap. She licks the tip, smiling at the way your hips jerk in response. “That was the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

A half moan, half chuckle escapes you. 

Slowly, you pull Wanda into a standing position, ignoring the way your over-sensitive strap jerks when her thigh touches it. You want this night to be perfect, and you want to show Wanda just how proud you are of her new enchantment. 

“Lie down for me, love,” you murmur, already looking forward to the feeling of her soaked core sliding against your strap. God, you can’t wait to sink into her and fuck her while feeling her around you. 

“I’m gonna make you feel real good.”

[chaoticstateofaffairs]

I love Bottom!Step-Mom!Wanda, just so desperate for affection and just so needy ✨

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

Pairing: G!P Subby Wanda x SoftDomme Fem!Reader I had the hornyest Subby Wanda thoughts today and it's my first time ever... I totally ruined my writing for the day, but I came up with the below headconons because I couldn't help myself. Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, masturbation, edging, denial, orgasm control, teasing, oral, anal play, use of butt plug, strap-on use, use of a cock cage, breeding kink, handjobs, cock-warming, ruined orgasms, aftercare

You love to cock-warm her for hours, because you know how much it affects her. She goes crazy when she’s inside you, but she’s not allowed to move. She begs so prettily for you to let her fuck you, tears filling her eyes when you deny her advances. She just wants to make you feel so good. She has the biggest breeding kink, always wanting to fill you up and keep her cock inside, so none of it would spill. Sometimes you like to punish her by riding her and pulling away from her throbbing cock just when she starts to cum. She looks so defeated, watching all her cum spill out of her cock and down her shaft, waisted… Ruining it hurts, but it’s the fact that it’s not inside you that really bothers her. She needs so much aftercare on nights like that. You love to put a plug inside her tight hole and pull up her boxers, stroking her cock through them, until she makes a mess. You send her off to work like that, patting her bottom at the door. It gets her hard again and you watch her awkward walk as she gets to the car, giggling as you wave at her. You make her send you pictures of her cock throughout the day, telling her how much you miss her and how badly you want her in your mouth, knowing that it gets her throbbing instantly.   You love to put her on her knees and make her eat you out over and over again. You always encourage her to stroke herself, watching her edge herself, because she’s not allowed to cum until you’re satisfied.   You love to edge her cock so much. She gets so reactive when you do. You love to use your hands, or your mouth, but what affects her the most is when you rub your wet pussy over her length. She always begs to please let her be inside. It’s where she belongs. It doesn’t feel right when she’s not inside you. When you actually do let her be inside, riding her, slowly and sensually, she cums in seconds and it gives you great pleasure to help her ride it out and then climb over her face and make her clean up her mess. When she’s been especially bad, usually touching her desperate cock without permission, you like to put her in a cock cage and watch her strain against it. You make her pretend that she’s fucking you while she’s all locked up, the entire time telling her how she could have been fucking you for real if she had been patient. That usually stops her from touching for a while. When she feels really subby, she loves for you to put on your harness and take her from behind with your strap. You always do it so gently and slowly, caressing her and kissing her all over, telling her what a good girl she is for you. She can come just from this and she has, when you’ve worked her up really well, but you prefer to stroke her through it, wanting her to feel good and to have a really satisfying orgasm. She’s very touchy and she craves closeness, so you always give her so much cuddles during aftercare. The way you smell calms her and makes her feel safe. She has her nose in the crook of your neck whenever she gets a chance. ___________________________________________________ So... Yeah, it's possible that I was a little horny for this today. Hope you enjoyed it. If so, let me know ;)

[wandasmistress]

You Belong to Me

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

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

Pairings- Bottom!Wanda Maximoff x Top!Reader

Warnings- 18+ Content

Word Count- 4.4k

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

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

➵➶➴➵➶➴➵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

»

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

»

[ceridescent]

leviathan of light: martini shot

➛ actress!wanda maximoff x female!reader

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

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

word count: 2, 218

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

part i of lush ministrations | series masterlist | main masterlist

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

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

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

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

“CUT!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“do you want to rest for a moment?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

certainly drenched with wanda’s hot cum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mommy, mmm”

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

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

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

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

“we’re never doing this again.”

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

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

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

so you do what you know best. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“do you have a date tonight?”

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

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

“well i’m-“

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

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

“i- of course, just that the time-“

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

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

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

“vouch for me?”

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

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

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

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

[igsuhrheos]

Bathtub Fun | Wanda Maximoff

This is my first story so please be kind.

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

Words-3.7k

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

Translation: Милый-(sweetheart),

Детка-(baby)

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

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

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

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

“She’s not my girlfriend”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W-whatever you want, Wands.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes! All yours”

“You promise?”

“I promise! Just touch me, please.”

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

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

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

“Y-yes”

“Yes, what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cakechan123]

Can someone please create some unique or diff wanda stories. I m bored with same old mommy wanda or dominant wanda.

Sub or bottom or switch wanda stories are so less.

Enemies to frnds are also rare

And arrange marriage stories or mafia stories.(sub wanda and dom reader).. I don't see any.

Rich bully wanda x poor nerd reader stories(intersex reader)

Or

Famous rich reader and cheerleader wanda already in relationship with vision her future fiancé set by her parents.. Wanda cheating on vision with y/n. They might be fuck buddies or y/n put some condition or blackmail infront of wanda.

Imagine wanda being a good sub houswife for her spouse. Cooking and pleasuring her spouse instead of being the most powerful being. Also her spouse has no idea about Wanda's power.

Or

Wanda is a spy and seduce y/n who is a dangerous person.. What will happen if y/n got to know about it.

Can someone please mention the stories if there are any.

(I m happy to reader wanda or Elizabeth stories with good story + smut) not only boring smut. Smut only works 100% for me if there is a story in it. ♥️

[wmarximoff]

𝐝é𝐣à 𝐯𝐮 | 𝐰. 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

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

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

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 10k

main masterlist| series masterlist|

༺ᱬ༻

A carton of almond milk, a jar of peanut butter, a dozen eggs, a stick of butter, a can of peas, a bag of soft multigrain bread and a sizable bottle of wine are the components of the plastic basket that Wanda carries slung over her right arm. She doesn't know that she forgot to get a can of corn too. But the basket is kind of weighty and she might as well use her magic to levitate the items around her own silhouette, but she prefers that way, holding them down herself with her own arm strength.

Sometimes it's good to keep the sense of normality active. Even if normality just means carrying a basket full of groceries around the supermarket. She then looks at the face of the brown watch buttoned at the base of her left wrist and checks the time, blinking her greenish eyes after squeezing a long, full yawn in the back of her throat.

A gray-haired old lady (Mrs. Sharon Davis, an elderly widow, all wrapped in her pale blue cardigan) in front of her appears to be in a conflict with herself to find some of the change interred in the lowest of her silver wallet. And Wanda scrutinizes the establishment around herself, between the shelves stocked with groceries and the glossy linoleum floor; the weary gaze wavering absorbedly over her own white-fabric sneakers and contingently fixing on a dark, even smear on the floor between them.

 Old Mrs. Davis still hasn't spotted her desired coins, and she's been digging into her wallet for the silver pennies for a good few minutes now. Wanda listens over her shoulder as someone pulls into a shopping cart right behind herself and lets out an audible groan, evidentially annoyed at the delay of the old lady with her change, but Wanda doesn't see the point in bothering to torment herself.

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

After all, she knows she's never loved anyone as passionately as she loves those two little boys (the grace of her life, the reason for her morning smile and for the blaze of keenness pulsing within the fond fortifications of her warmish heart). For her they are everything, and that is why she would do anything for them – they are the epithet of the purest form of love that Y/N had ever gifted her with; the culmination of their love converted into two vulnerable little creatures that are made up of the best of the two of them.

She just knows, like a good mother who understands both her children so well, that at that moment, the twin boys are probably watching some silly cartoon on the television set beside the broad fireplace found in the corner of the commodious living room. And she is placid in a supermarket line, getting a whiff of the eccentric consequence of the odd combination of the full-bodied aromas of cleaning product and some sturdy feminine perfume – an even slightly nauseating aroma, kind of overpowering and suffocating. In some aisle away from her, a child is heatedly asking his mother to buy him some treats.

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

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

But then, she retrieves back to the years of her late youth, all lived in the restful caresses of the compound in upper Manhattan. She was still understanding about how to breathe without having Pietro to hold her hand. She was learning to live on her own. She was coming to terms with the truth that living didn't inevitably have to be a bad experience at all; not when Y/n showed her that there could still be delight in the little things in life.

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

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

She memorizes the exultant smile of her ex-wife, looking so light and beautiful even while talking with her mouth full (a half-crocken smirk drawn to her left-side, like the smirk also articulated in the innocuous characteristics of her little Tommy after he was born, which reminds her so much of the radiance that used to gleam in the sweet features of her former companion). Her ex-wife wasn't always a lonesome and distant creature creeping in the corners of her mind, and it genuinely aches inside her chest to remember that.

Y/n always devoured lavishly every traditional Sokovian dish she has ever prepared and promptly asked for more – and then thanked her with a chaste kiss placed on the pulp of her lips, which promptly evolved into the building of an intimate, sweaty moment with two bodies rubbing greedily against each other. But she soon lets out a crestfallen, rather disillusioned sigh, repressing herself for having gone back to those secluded memories amorously stored in the edge of her brain in the first place (of the concept of two adolescent girlfriends absorbed in love in the purest sense of the word, emulating the seriousness of a relationship with adult bearing, but never losing, at its core, the youthful sweetness worthy of teenage lovers). Two girls playing love in a world that was a little too hard on them.

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

But then she reminisces that she was merely turning eighteen years old when she became a wanted on an international scale, and that, prior to that, she had also grown up in a war-torn country. She never knew how to behave like a normal person per se – whether that was before or after she became able to expel bolts of magical energy from her fingertips. She never quite knew how to fit into the role of a child or a young adult in the first place. Not by herself.

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

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

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

Her cohabitation with Y/n at the time facilitated, of course – even though her wife had changed a lot in the time that followed since the blip, at first, things had worked out well between them. Or as well as possible under the anomalous circumstances. The two of them took care of the (still) newborn twins and of each other, always with great tenderness and affection while they did it. At least that's how it worked for the first year after their reunion – until Y/N got into alcohol's graces for good, that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe they could have risen together, and not just drifted further and further away as the days passed. Maybe Y/n didn't feel guilt-ridden every time the twins cried in need to be held or fed. Maybe Wanda wouldn't have queried her for the love she no longer knew how to give – she is fully aware of the fact that she has always had a somewhat pushy nature, after all. Maybe this, maybe that.

She doesn't know why she's been thinking about maybe so much these past few days. But it's not her fault that her ex-wife happens to be so pleasing to the eye. The person behind her in line grumbles again, and there is a mischievous chuckle that reaches her ears with airs of grace. Wanda is sincerely considering summoning some coins with her magic for Mrs. Davis.

“Oh my God, this wine is divine!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Some special occasion, I suppose?” Sarah articulates a suggestive grin, but Wanda just frowns uncertainly, half squinting at her neighbor, “Maybe some... special visitor? I always knew you had it in you, Wanda. You know what they say about the quiet ones...”

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

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

“Yeah, she was never one to talk much in public, even when we were with our teammates… but neither am I, honestly.”

“A pair made in heaven, indeed,” Sarah then flashes a smile, but the taste that slides across Wanda's tongue is bitter and kind of hard to swallow. Wanda shifts her body weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other.

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

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

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

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

“She and Black Widow, I think, saved the life of the mayor in that bombing on the Fourth of July in... ‘15, ‘16, maybe? Yeah, I remember that! She's the one who's super strong, isn't she? Who held up a scaffold once and saved those kids!”

“That's her, yes.”

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

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

“Situ–” but then she blinks just one time, “Oh,” Mmrtification hangs over Wanda like a bucket of paint spilled over her dark-haired head.

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

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

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

She's never been one to deal with such intimacies with anyone other than her ex-wife (merely some casual, unsuccessful and sporadic blind dates that's never been more than a few kisses and a few touches here and there, by no means ending up in her or anyone else's bed). But she permits herself only to flash a wan grin towards the other woman when she realizes that, in front of her, the old lady has lastly found her damn change. Fucking finally.

And then, with the memory still boiling hungrily in her innards, like a hungry beast devouring her from the inside out, she takes a large step in the other direction, trying to walk away from Sarah as humanly possible, as if the other woman carries with her a toxic cloud that sickens everything that comes in contact with her. If Wanda couldn't probably get a nice lawsuit for that (or worst), she'd turn Sarah into a disgusting slimy frog.

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

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

ᗢ

You don't know exactly how long you've been raising and lowering the joint of your bent elbow above your head. It doesn't feel right to do it, just as it doesn't do it if it feels wrong. It's just necessary – it’s like cracking some eggs if you're in the mood for an omelet for breakfast. You just have the fullest conception that a few good minutes have passed since the beginning of all the activity, and as in the rehearsal of a play, you are repeating the gestures until you overcome them with great proficiency and your culmination comes out perfect, from your liking.

And you don't bother to intend to stop doing it anytime soon – such a guttural, animalistic and barbaric action. At this point, the movement is already instinctive after being recorded in at the core of your memory, an automatic message engraved between the ligaments of your neurons. You've done it innumerable times before, and you know you'll do it a few more times after this one.

You lift your right arm, lowers your implacable fist constricted like a steel ball, the resonance of smashed cartilage and wrecked bones echoing in your eardrums, all instructed by the figure of a bloodthirsty invisible conductor within the ramparts of your own cranium. The face of the bewildered guy lying beneath you looks like a loaf of raw, misshapen meat as you repeat a cadence of sequentially delivered punches against his facial bones. And he, who is at least twice as big as you, lets out a piercing howl of pain from the cavernous depths of his throat, as even a wild bear would do if attacked deep in a forest.

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

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

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

You've never had a dilemma in whacking someone’s ass. Even more so when that said someone had committed a hate crime against a racial minority and got away with the trial, because that's the way it is in New York City. The recurring metallic scent of fresh blood squirts in a jet of reddish color, thick and gleaming across your rigid, compact knuckles. The gruesome fragrance is no stranger to your sense of smell, and you're not quite sure whether you want it to be or not.

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

The peaceable domestic life lived alongside Wanda is long gone, and desolation and wrath are your only roommates within the walls of your morbidly valueless apartment. You've been living like a cornered animal for fifteen years in programmed mode, always exposing your fangs and your claws at any sign of danger, just self-destructing, dying little by little, not craving to exist for one more day after laying your head on the blandishments of your pillow and staring blankly at the ceiling, whirling through your usual drunken state. Just desiring to somehow wreck your imperishable body that can't be cut or torn by human hands or tools.

People much well-intentioned than you are long gone, and you, by some implausible probabilities, were (cursed) fortunate to have endured thorough all the catastrophes that life directed at you. The car accident as a child. The blip as a mother and as a wife, as a friend.

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

You just seem to live confined in this unbearable cycle of misfortune, and it's not fair to others that you are the person left to tell the story of those who are gone. If only you could, you would swap places with the true heroes who gave their lives for the greater good. You would even be honored to do so yourself.

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

He is still alive, groaning in a vital position, and is severely battered. And it was never your intention to kill anyone. He probably learned his lesson. Maybe you should break his legs, just in case. A tremor rolls under your black sneaker feet as a loud motorcycle passes by in the distance. Sirens also pass presently afterwards, coming and going with their blue and red outcome.

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

 You take an elongated gulp of air before diving into your flickering pocket and hooking the device through your fuming, blooded finger length. You know your pupils are dilated and dark. Your gaze is empty and brittle as you scrutinize between the digitally formed words before your motionless eyes. Frequent bursts of oxygen are a method of neutralizing the pulses of adrenaline throbbing in the artery inside your neck. But the taste that slips between your teeth is acid and sour, and you lock your jawbone at the information that is cognitive to you.

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

(seen)

It’s Wanda.

(seen)

By the way.

(seen)

Yes, you know it's Wanda (your sweet Wanda, the trace of humanity lingering inside your icy chest), that she texted you. And it doesn't astonish you at all (not anymore), because not many people contact you lately during the sunny period of the day. You two have been keeping in touch the last few days, after all, you told her that you wanted to be more present in the twins' lives. And it's not an untruth at all, but your sly creaking anxiety makes you feel like it's a kind of uncertainty inside your throbbing stomach walls.

Maybe it's not the right decision, the voice inside your head spoke. Maybe at this point in life they don't need you anymore. Maybe this is a breakthrough, or even the commencement of a calamity worthy of a Greek novel, you're not quite sure yet. You turn on your heels and spin your back on the battered man, so you can send your reply to your ex-wife's number without looking at the ferocious outcome of your latent tantrum.

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

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

try to enjoy your staycation btw. you deserve it

(seen)

:)

(seen)

You don't know why you sent her that stupid emoji. It's not like you're a teenager reproducing a failed flirtation attempt with the girl you have a crush on anymore.

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

In the background, the man is still groaning in pain. And you're not sorry you broke him in a beating. No, no. You're just sorry for yourself, because you didn't bat an eye when you did it. Vaguely the memory of Wanda placing chaste kisses along your hands invades you, and you realize you wouldn't want her to kiss your unseemly fingers right now (because you find her too pure to dwell on the filthiness of your touch).

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

ᗢ

The twilight of dusk breaks with the trepidation of an ingrained thunder, which rumbles all in a glow of white light that splits along the longitudinal path that comprised the pleasant suburb that is Westview. So, this is an opaque afternoon resulting from the middle of the rainy day, gray and hazy in its chilly essence, with tenuous threads of a torrential drizzle protecting the foundations of the two-story house on the slopes of the street, making the dewy ivy rustle on its ground, dripping slowly from the eaves of the ceramic tiles.

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

Compact, opulent, slate-colored clouds were uneven against the emerald green of the panorama of howling houses, hills and trees, like the leaning of thick smoke from a desolate fire. A fierce storm, nevertheless, is not anomalous in the face of the oscillating spring climate of the state of New Jersey, which is not a real stranger to the rainy weather of the season. Thus, the nonstop drizzle is not the atypical episode of the day altogether.

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

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

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

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

“But you didn't bring an umbrella?” Her gaze is accusatory in your direction, the tone of voice sounding dangerously concerned inside your ears, “Wait, you walk all the way over here?! I could have gone to get you!”

“Well,” you kind of sigh, shrugging your shoulders within your hoodie, without looking her straight in the eye “You see, I, hah… I didn’t think it was actually going to… you know… to rain. And technically I have some level of super speed in me, so...”

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

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

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

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

You feel married to her again for half a fraction of a second – it's like your remote newlywed routine all over again. And the feeling is actually good. She looks so pretty. It's like you could kiss her lips right there.

“What? What's so funny?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's like a huge hair dryer blowing hot air the entire length of your body and then unexpectedly stopping as if pulled from the socket, making your skin temperature pleasant again like a sunny embrace all around your body. You find yourself dry in a matter of seconds, from your socks to your underwear, thanks to her remarkable magical gifts.

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

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

“You’re annoying. I'm still considering throwing you out back in the rain for dripping water all over my carpet, just so you know.”

“All right, mom, relax. I won’t do it again, girl scout word.”

“You were never a girl scout, Y/n.”

Wanda just casts a weary glance in your direction, but there's a slight lighthearted tone that resides in the green outline of her graceful irises, as if an inside joke has taken hold between you two. She smiles, and so do you, because you feel comfortable while doing it – a pair of complicit grins from someone whose chest is filled of joy and fullness. The atmosphere that sets in is comfortable, and you feel more relaxed being close to her.

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

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

You follow after your ex-wife without further circumlocution, the two of you passing through the small and comfy entrance hall as you go after Wanda into the large rectangular living room, your hands always tucked inside the single pocket of your hoodie as you accompany her with phlegmatic steps in your essence. Your shoulders feel even lighter as she turns to you and casually offers you the sweetest smile you've ever seen in your life.

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

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

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

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

“Mom!”

“Mommy!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I want to start it!”

"I want to start it!"

“But I want to start it!”

“I want to start it!”

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

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

"Okay."

"Okay..."

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

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

“Yeah,” Tommy mussed back, nodding in agreement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wanda looks in your direction, and then smiles. And you smile back, because the situation is prone to do so. You, for the first time in so long, feel welcomed and hassle-free in the presence of others. The air inside the house is blissful and warm, so unlike your empty, disdainful apartment forgotten somewhere on the West Side of Midtown Manhattan. Wanda doesn't feel like your ex-wife right now – at least, that's not how she looks at you.

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

ᗢ

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

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

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

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

Your ex-wife insisted that you stay for the night after the two of you carried them upstairs and deposited them in their respective tidy beds, showering each of them with chaste kisses to the tops of their childish heads – Wanda's little staycation was long-forgotten by then. You let out a disturbed sigh, both palms of your hands polishing the length of the dull face of yours.

What the fuck, you think, what the fuck are you doing there? This may even be your family, but this is not your house. It's not your home. Not anymore. Reverberating through your insides you find the throttling need for a drag of a cigarette eating away at the bottom of your lungs like a harmful parasite sucking the life from its source, and then you get up to do it, because lying down feels like it consumes you from within in a profuse haze of bubbling anxiety that bursts from your stomach to your mouth, making you feel so weak inside.

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

The lavender bedclothes had begun to tighten the muscle in your neck after a while, and in the room just down the hall, you assume Wanda sleeps comfortably cuddling in her bed. When searching inside the single pocket of your hoodie, the well-folded garment on top of a plain desk in the corner of the room, soaked in the darkness of the shadowy environment, the absconse pack of cigarettes from a brand that you are quite familiar with, that keeps you company in the acrimonious moments of solitude, you take a single cylindrical unit towards the spaces open to your drooping mouth and then you find the cold lighter with your fingertips, leaving for the entrance door of the room offered to you by your ex-wife.

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

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

The restlessness that weighed heavily on your shoulders eased as the familiar full-bodied scent of hibiscus tea mixed with the sweetness of a mild strawberry shampoo slithered into your nostrils and filled your lungs thirsty for smoke and tobacco. As you approach, you see that Wanda, wearing a sheer silk robe over a red nightgown, is accompanied by a large cup that exhales small clouds of steam, with the tiny bundle that carries the tea herbs submerged into the hot water inside the dark container.

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

Her eyes glow an intoxicating green hue amid the darkness of the night, only supported by the silver light of the moonlight coming from outside the residence. You feel like a frog being studied on a silver platter in some high school biology class.

Wanda's diligent gaze always seemed to be able to penetrate through the cracks of your soul – she always understood you as if she were an expert when dealing with any subject concerning you. You let out an uneasy sigh, oddly scratching the inside of your throat as you do.

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

“It’s okay,” she mumbles serenely over a sip of hot tea, the pulp of her nacarine lips being moistened by the hot liquid she's ingested, “I still haven't been able to sleep anyway.”

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

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

“Still having trouble sleeping?”

“Once in a while,” Wanda answers you, and with her eyes she indicates the empty space next to her right elbow so you can sit there, “Sometimes I need to relearn how to sleep all by myself. And... It's not easy, when I’m under the same roof as you again.”

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

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

“You start smoking again?”

“Yeah, it's been a while, actually. A couple of years to be honest. Not that I'm proud of it, but,” your gaze shifts to the small cylinder, turning it between the digits of your index and middle fingers of your tender right hand, “This little shit here helps me calm down, I guess. Or at least I like to think so. I don’t know."

Silence touches both of you shoulders, and there is a moment for Wanda to sip more of the tea that has spilled into her cup. When the drink is gone, then all the way into her stomach, she places the container on the floor, close to her left ankle like a tame kitten, safe from her company. You are still hesitating in the uncertainty of whether or not to light up that damned tempting cigarette.

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

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

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

“I had forgotten what it was like to feel like this. Me and you acting like family with the boys the way we’re supposed to be. And it's good, Y/n. It’s… really good. I missed that, you. I missed you.”

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

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

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

Even if there is indeed a need on Wanda's part, and you just need someone to scare you away from the evil inside your head. Your ex-wife, in a thoughtless act, dives with her clever hands into the thin fabric of the tank top that clothes your impenetrable skin, grabbing the sides of your waist in a needy way, as if all she wanted at that moment was to feel you, as if her entire existence existed based on physically feeling you snuggled into her icy body.

She blinks, consenting to the overflow of her feelings, enraptured by the image of your cheeks burning and your chest heaving. And she does what she thinks is right to do, which seems to be the only option possible in this small moment of affection and dedication, filled with an ember that if she could name it, she would call it love - because she knows she love you, even if she didn't say it out loud yet. You are the love of her life, and she is the love of yours.

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

You feel the smart hands rest at the end of your spine with an almost practiced disregard, seeking nothing but feeling at first, far from the lascivious idea of consolidating the carnal act. Wanda just wants to feel you close, all to herself, comfortable in her grip. Between a set of pink lips, a tongue is present, and this tongue curls up in another in a not hasty and exaggerated way. It's elegant. It's careful. It is harmonious.

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

Up and down, side and side; surrounded by genuine attunement, lips moved carefully, following an invisible line that dictates your not so reckless actions. A waltz of delicate, tangible lips that still fit together so perfectly, so neatly, that you might as well cry.

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

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

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

“Please,” she cries against your lips, “Please, Y/n, touch me. Make me feel you again.”

The feeling is familiar. Toxically familiar. It is the red invading your senses, intoxicating you with dense doses of scarlet. You know very well that, even before the enticements of alcohol and cigarettes, your primary vice has always been the crimson sweetness of Wanda's body. And, well… you're not known for being resistant to the temptations of your addictions.

ᗢ

A crimson marble glow glistening under the palms of both your hands. Sweat glistened in the hollow of your groin across your burning hips. Wanda riding on your lap, naked as a Renaissance painting displayed in the dim light of a museum, her chest heavy like a marathon runner. The long, thick length of the red strap brushed against a specific spot on her inner walls that made her delirious and increasingly pivot her hips toward you, seeking more, brushing against each other like two animals in heat.

There was nothing rational in that animalistic act. The symphony in the room was that of skin beating wet against skin; of her lascivious wetness voraciously swallowing your cock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, are you close?”

“M-mhmm! ” she kind of moaned, both eyes squinted two lewd lines “Please don't stop, don't stop Y/n, ah-!”

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

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

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

The lamp above your heads flashed white. Wanda's eyes glowed a profuse scarlet that swallowed the moss green of her irises, the darkening of her dilated pupils making her eyes look like two bottomless wells of lust. You buried your face against the beam of sweaty skin that joined her neck to her collarbone, and placed a generous, savage bite there.

“Fuck- I’m gonna cum, I'm gonna– fuck! Y/n! Oh, fuck!” she decreed, panting against your bare neck, pressing her fingers against your buttocks in an incitement to the act they so indomitably committed.

“Come for me Wanda,” you murmured against her ear, “Come on my cock, pretty girl, make a mess for me. I wanna hear you fucking scream my name.”

The bed hit the wall again. And again. And again. You didn't stop at the first orgasm. Nor in the second. Nor on the third. Until you abandoned her in the middle of the night.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda holding hands 13 bc Ur smut is the best :D

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

prompt: linking hands together during sex | warnings: (+18) smut.

“Are you sure this is safe?”

Wanda lets out a giggle at your nervousness, sitting on your thighs, her hands resting on your stomach, she stares at you, her head slightly tilted.

"Are you questioning my magical abilities?" she counters your question with another one, receiving an offended snort in return.

"Of course not!" You mutter. You were looking at her before, but ended up looking down, where the toy conjured by the witch attached to your waist vibrates softly as if it were as desperate to feel her as you were half an hour ago when you both stumbled inside the rented room at the Harkness Mansion, where Wanda has been learning all sorts of magic for the past few months. Clearly, she has learned other interesting things, outside of the mandatory curriculum.

Your hands caress her thighs, but Wanda still notices the tension in your shoulders. She softens her gaze in your direction.

"It feels good, doesn't it? No need to worry." She rations, pleased to see you bite your lip as she tentatively caresses the plastic member. When you gasp at the stimulation, she feels a twinge of pride at her successful spell, too. "You can trust me."

"I trust you, darling." You assure her, a little out of breath and sweaty. It's round two already, and Wanda just proved her point by groping your new magical member, a squeeze that almost makes you lose your train of thought. "It's me I don't trust. What are we going to do about my strength? Are you sure-"

"That's exactly why I'm on top, silly." She cuts you off, adjusting herself on your lap in a way that brings her heat right where you want her. Your grip on her thighs tightens just enough to bruise. It's her time to bite her lip. With a deep breath, she stares at your eyes. "You just need to relax, and let me take charge. I bet you'll love it."

It's your turn to look at her adoringly. "Of course I will, it's you." You comment romantically, earning a shy smile from her. But then, there's a shift in her gaze. Wanda is still looking in your eyes as she adjusts the toy into her own entrance, teasing gently before slowly sinking down. She's able to feel every inch, filling her up to the bottom.

Your hands leave her thighs to grip the sheets, and she smiles breathlessly at your visible difficulty in keeping still, your jaw tensing as your stomach muscles tighten.

"See? I told you I'd like it." She teases, still getting used to the sensation of being full. She's pleased to know she got the size right, even though she can't help but imagine trying a bigger one in the future. "I'm going to start moving now, okay baby?"

But her body was betraying her. She was still quite sensitive, coming twice before for your fingers and tongue, she didn't imagine she'd be so affected so quickly when she switched to the toy. But the sensation was truly overwhelming. It was really different to feel you filling her like that, and in the attempt to grind against your lap, her body protested, as ready for climax as she had been when she started.

You came to her rescue immediately. Sitting, one of your hands brushed her hair away from her face, to get a better look at her before kissing her. Your other hand went down, wrapping around her waist and taking control of her movements. Wanda rewarded you with an affected moan against your lips, her thighs trembling on either side of your body as you forced her hips to move against yours. She didn't want to come so fast, but she couldn't help it. Being held like this, she felt so safe and loved that the knot in her lower belly exploded almost at the same moment you whispered "I got you, lovely". 

In the ecstasy of her own climax, she didn't notice your determination to hold back, unable to surrender without worries. It was only when she calmed down, breathless and still trying to get back into orbit, that she realized. Hugging you by the neck, she kissed your skin before speaking again. "I told you to trust me."

You sigh, caressing her back with open palms. "I do, but I don't want to hurt you." You murmur. Despite being bigger than Wanda, you suddenly seem very small. "Every muscle is amplified by the serum, Wands, you know that. I'm afraid I might-"

She cuts you off with a determined kiss. Wet and rough, it makes you gasp and grab her cheeks, pulling away for air. Wanda arches her back, teasing and baiting you, the image of her naked figure making you gasp. You stare at where your bodies connect, but don't move.

She grinds, and you groan. "Jesus, Wanda."

"You won't hurt me, I promise." She assures you, equally affected, having trouble keeping her eyes on you, her brow furrowed due to the roughness of her own hips' movements. Doing this, you kept hitting a sensitive spot inside her, and it was a hard feeling to ignore in order to speak. "It's part of the magic. Can you, for all that is holy, trust what I'm saying?"

You don't contradict, mainly because you're unable to hold back when Wanda is riding you so eagerly. You tense up then, panicking once you feel your climax reaching you, but to no avail, it's your attempt at holding it. An animalistic moan rips its way through your throat, and you grab Wanda's waist, holding her in place as you empty yourself inside her. She whines affectly, grabbing your shoulders as she feels the hot shot inside her. 

For a second, not only the toy soften but your body too, going heavy on her. She holds both of you to the bed with her thighs around your waist, a hand caressing your hair as she tries to ignore the way your cock is still pulsing and leaking inside her.

“Need a break, baby?” She asks softly but you groan deeply, hands suddenly firming around her to flip both of you in bed. She gasps when her back hits the mattress, but her surprise is turned into something else when you pound into her with strength. “Fuck.”

Her hands fell into the bed with the shifting in the position, and Wanda's eyes widened a little when you reached for them, holding them together above her head.

This was new and Wanda was definitely not complaining.

“We should have tried this ages ago.” You say, your voice husky due to the efforts and the previous orgasms. Wanda thinks you look beautiful like this, out of breath while you fuck her. “I could be gentle but… something tells me you don't want me to.”

Your free hand moves down to flick her swollen clit between your fingers and Wanda cries out, her back arching on the bed. You smirk, adjusting just so you could move the toy that slipped out back inside her.

There's a quick teasing from your part, pushing just the tip of the toy into her overstimulated dripping pussy, but sooner than later, you push all the way inside. Cursing under your breath as Wanda fights against the hold on her hands. She wants to hold you so badly that it physically consumes her and you end up pitying her pleasing eyes and needy moans. 

But you don't free her hands, instead, you entrelaces your fingers together in a deep grip that anchors her when your movements resume.

The pounding is rough, it cracks the bed and takes Wanda to a state of colorful eyes and magic emanation. The only noises in the room are the shared moaning and the obscene sounds of your cock pushing into her aching heat, the moisture of your last climax leaking into the bed. When she comes, all the lights in the bedroom flash. You follow her this time, groaning into her neck as you come. 

For a second, none of you are able to say anything, all but breathless gasps leaving your lips. Then, there's a shared giggle, and your fingers, still interlaced, squeeze before letting go, only for you to remove the sweaty hair away from her face.

“Hey, you.” She smiles at your words, tired eyes threatening to close as she looks at you. “Enjoying yourself aren't you?”

“Don't tease me, when you're just whining three seconds ago.” She retorts, getting a chuckle from you. Wanda let her hands cross behind your neck. “Wanna join me in the shower?”

“Honey, if I ever say no to that, you can bet I lost my mind for good.” You joke, muffling her and giggling with your mouth.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

Tying sub!Wanda down with her legs spread until she's unable to move them, her hands tied above her head with pretty, soft, red rope. Running your fingers through her arousal and telling her she looks so beautiful all spread open and dripping for you. Tapping on her protruding clit to get a reaction, and smiling when her hips jerk. Getting out a flogger and lightly slapping her clit until she's on the edge of an orgasm and crying while moans and begging words slip past her lips. Mocking her for being such a masochist when she finally cums, her legs twitching as you keep lightly flicking her swollen clit with the flogger. Forcing her to thank you for letting her cum while you continue to hit her clit until she cums again and again and... Finally setting the flogger down and watching her collapse from overstimulation, her body relaxing into the mattress, only for her head to jerk up in surprise when your hot, needy mouth starts sucking her poor, raw, overstimulated clit.

[chaoticstateofaffairs]

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

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Hahaha ha not me at work thinking about subby!Wanda hahaha I would never anyways I have a one shot professor!reader x subby!Wanda fiction coming out later today once I'm off work...or maybe before who knows 🫠

[revelinwritin]

i need some bottom!natasha/bottom!wanda fics 🥴 if anyone has any good ones pls send the my way

[ceridescent]

lush ministrations — m., wanda

actress!wanda maximoff x female!reader

summary | with a flourishing career, wanda maximoff is occupied by multiple press, peers and problems that revolve around the entertainment industry — her job. which makes you her perfect little thing, her dirty little secret. at her every beck and call, you answer. it doesn’t require much effort anyway, being her makeup artist has its perks.

warnings | heavy sexual content, sex toys, BDSM, & alcohol consumption.

author's note: lush ministrations series doesn't require reading in chronological order, each part is different from another yet co-related in terms of wanda's schedules.

parts |

leviathan of light: martini shot

wonder women: the september issue

leviathan of light: premiere

...to be announced.

navigation | main masterlist

18+ only. men and minors DNI.

[potentialsandwhich]

I am a victim of overexcitement, but I just wanted to share that I will be continuing Taste and making it into a short WandaNat/Sorority series.

Part two will be Protégée:

When the Queen doesn't want to play, there's always the princess.

If Natasha won't give you the attention you want, you'll just get it from her little protégée: Wanda.