#Maximov!reader

[dinogoofymutated]

Jealousy headcannons! Multi/GN!Reader - Cable, Gambit, Nightcrawler, Quicksilver. Ok I know this wasn't on the schedule butttt Yeahhhh. Cable is going to have an extended version of his fic, and I might do the same for the others but no promises! Also I know that Cable's written half is literally just the snippet I shared with some minor edits but bear with me please his stuff is in the works!!! TWs: Jelousy. Barfights. No violence on Reader but men are creepy. Mentions of sex work. Cable and gambit make public spectacles it's just what they do. The return of wolverine and the X-men Pietro bc I love him

Cable

Look, any man who comes over to flirt with you after you walk in with a legit wall of muscle has to be either stupid or blind.

Cable is by no means a very jealous man. He's not gonna care if a man (or woman) approaches you and starts up a conversation. He might get a little frustrated if they start flirting with you, but he trusts you. He knows you can take care of yourself and he doesn't want you to feel like he's got you on a leash.

But when someone is being persistent, not taking no for an answer, and hell, putting their hands on you? He doesn't take it too well. He's more of an overprotective type when it comes to his flavor of jealousy.

    “That beer for me, Beautiful?” The voice of a stranger cuts through your thoughts, and to be honest, you don’t even think he’s talking to you until you realize how close to you he is. He’s sat on the barstool next to you, leaning towards you like he can’t quite catch his balance. You make a face at him, nonchalantly moving Cable’s beer closer.

    “Last time I checked it wasn’t.” You say curtly. The man has a smile hiding behind his pout as he leans a little closer to you, oblivious to the way you casually recoil from him.

    “Oh c'mon, don’t play hard to get. I’m chill!” You can tell this guy is most definitely drunk, and you find yourself trying not to roll your eyes at him. If only he knew what kind of trouble he was in.

    “Sure you are. But believe me, my Husband is not.” You tell him. You're not married, but to be honest, you knew this guy wasn't going to leave you be if you left him with some vague label. Didn't matter anyway, however, the stranger laughs in your face, and his breath smells like alcohol and cheap cigarettes, a nasty combo that repulses you. You point back at the corner booth where the cable was sitting just a few minutes before, hoping that he’d at least back off at the sight of the six-foot hunk of muscle you call a lover. Unfortunately, He doesn't. 

    “What Husband?” The man says mockingly, and when you look at the booth you find yourself pointing at an empty seat. The sight lights a small flicker of anxiety in you, and your face falls as the man sets a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. It’s not there for long before the weight suddenly disappears. You snap your head around, feeling relief when you see the man’s wrist caught in Cable’s literal iron-clad grip. 

    “This Husband.” Cable grunts.

    All of the blood drains from the stranger’s face in an instant, but it doesn’t take long for the attitude to come back. He tries to yank his arm out of Cable’s grip, but Cable’s arm doesn’t move an inch. To be honest, the sight kinda made you blush a little. Sure, you had seen Cable’s strength many times, but this… well. This was different. The guy starts to yank a little more aggressively, and all Cable has to do is clench his hand for the asshole to yelp and give up. You set a placating hand on his shoulder, and Cable glances back at you. His gaze softens, and he sighs before letting the guy go.

    “What’s your problem, man?” The stranger spits as he holds his bruised wrist. You had already gathered your things and were getting ready to get the hell outta dodge, giving Cable’s shoulder a hard pat as you desperately tried to keep him from getting in a barfight. Cable ignores the guy, walking close behind you as you start to walk away.

    “ -s’ an ugly bitch, anyway.” The stranger mumbles under his breath, but not nearly as quiet as he should’ve. Cable stops in his tracks, wheels around, and slugs the guy with his left arm. There's a sickening crunch and the bar goes silent as the drunken stranger is violently knocked from his seat. Your first instinct is to scold Cable, but the guy had it coming anyway. You look around, and with every eye in the bar squarely on you and Cable, you decide you’ve definitely stayed past your welcome.

Gambit

Gambit is probably the most jealous man in this lineup. Again, He will get fidgety and somewhat aggressive when someone approaches you and begins to flirt, but he trusts you. He doesn't want you to think he doesn't, and as a result, he tends to grit his teeth and bite his tongue to keep himself in check.

There's definitely a very, very thin line in between "I don't want to be overbearing" Remy and "This guy needs to take the fucking hint" Remy.

He's mostly fine with drunk bastards, He thinks they're funny, and as long as they're not bothering you for the most part he'll keep the aggression to a minimum. -But the one thing he absolutely cannot stand is snobby pricks who think they can steal you from him because he's a "swamp rat."

"It's a shame to see such a lovely creature like you standing here all alone." You try not to roll your eyes at the man that approaches you. You and Remy were supposed to have a nice, romantic night out. It was your anniversary, and Remy had told you that he wanted to pull out all the stops for this one. Unfortunately, fate wasn't on either of your sides today. The X-men needed Gambit, and you told him that the plans can wait for another time. Remy, in a very gambit fashion, told you to dress up anyway and he bet he would meet you there. Definitely a rather High-stakes gamble, but you loved him, so you said you'd hold him to it.

Unfortunately for you, it looked like the restaurant was hosting an event at the bar for what looked like a rather stuffy- sorry, High-end law firm. You had been content with waiting for Remy, even if the waitress clearly looked convinced he was standing you up. You had ordered something to drink while you waited, and caught the wrong kind of attention during your trip to the bar.

"I'm not alone, I'm waiting for someone." You say, flashing him an annoyed smile. He smiles back in a smartass kind of way, flashing you his Rolex as he pushes up his glasses. Great. He thinks you're a sugar baby- or maybe a sex worker. Either way, you really wished he was anywhere but here.

"Right. I'll be honest with you, I know you've been waiting here for what- and hour now? Hour and a half? Any guy that leaves you here for that long is not worth your time, sweetheart." You cringe at the nickname, but he clearly can't seem to tell. At this point, you start debating your options. You could run to the bathroom, but there weren't any windows you could crawl out of and he could wait at the door for you to come out. You could try to leave, but you didn't want Remy to think that you left him hanging. It's probably best if you stay and wait for him, but man was this guy getting on your nerves.

"Again, I'm waiting on someone. I'm choosing to wait on him, and frankly, I'm not interested in you." You say bluntly, getting more and more aggravated. The man only smirks at you.

"You're certainly a fiesty one. Don't worry, I like it when they play hard to get." He sends you wink that makes you want to sock him, and to be honest, you start to think about it. The bell at the door of the restaurant dings, and you glance over, face breaking out in a smile at the sight of the man you had been waiting on.

Remy was still in his x-men suit, obviously having come fresh from the fight. He's got some dirt on his face, and his hair is a little messier than normal, but you had never been so happy to see him.

"Well, don't you clean up well." You joke as Remy walks to your table. He chuckles, barely sparing the other man a side-eye before picking up your hand to kiss it.

"Sorry, Chère. Originally, I planned on changin', but I couldn't stand the thought of leaving you here for another moment." Remy's fond gaze turns into a bit of a glare when he finally looks over at the gobsmacked man across the table from you. "I see you've made a new friend?" You roll your eyes at that, shaking your head. Remy gets the message.

There's a gasp from the other patrons of the restaurant, as the sound the contact made was rather loud. There's already a red mark forming on the mans face as you take Remy by the hand and begin to lead him out of the restaurant. Remy is looking at you like he'd fallen in love with you all over again.

"You've been waiting all this time for some Cajun freak?" The man blurts out, finally having found his words.

"Watch it, Mon ami." Remy's shoulders tense as he snarls at the prick. You stand up, giving his bicep a reassuring squeeze before you walk in front of the man. The side of his mouth slightly upturns as you do so, right before you slap the everloving shit out of him.

"I know you really wanted for us to eat here, honey, but to be honest? I like your cooking better anyway."

Nightcrawler

Kurt? Jealous???

Absolutely. He absolutely gets jealous. Kurt is much more of a "cat" kind of jealous than a Guard Dog kind of jealous though. He's not going to do anything crazy like punch anyone, but he's gonna brush up against you, slide his tail around your waist, hold your hand. He wants reassurance from you more than he is angered by whoever is flirting with you.

That's not to say he's not angry. He doesn't like the way some people look at you like a piece of meat instead of the intelligent, beautiful person you are, and he's not afraid to call people out on it.

Kurt knew that the guy you were talking to right now was only stopping to ask you for directions, but he really didn't like how close to you the guy was. Kurt had gone off to get you something to eat from the street food vendor nearby, telling you to just relax and he would be back soon.

When he returned with food in hand, it was obvious to him what was happening, but he still couldn't help but frown. The man is leaning into your space as he shows you the map in his hands. It's fine. There was obviously nothing really going on, the stranger must have been simply touchy. He then watches as the man sets a hand on the back of your waist to point at a building up ahead, and Kurt's mind quickly changes.

Obviously, you had stepped out of the stranger's reach quickly, uncomfortable with the action, but Kurt still slinked up to your side like a cat, pulling you close with his tail as he hands you your food, resting his newly freed hand behind your back.

"There you are, Meine Liebe. I hope you didn't wait for too long." Kurt says sweetly, giving you a grin. You smile back at him, thanking him for the food. You felt relieved to see him. Sure, the stranger that had been speaking to you seemed to be a nice man, but there was a certain amount of comfort and security Kurt provided when he was near you. Kurt makes a show of leaning in and kissing you on the cheek that makes you giggle. The stranger clears his throat after a quick moment.

"-Sorry if I interrupted your date. I appreciate the directions!" He says quickly, face flushed red from embarresment.

"You're perfectly fine! I hope you're able to find what you're looking for alright." You respond sweetly, waving as the man walks off. Kurt is pouting again when you look at him, tail still wrapped comfortably around you. You can't help but giggle.

"You're so jealous." You laugh. Kurt gives you an innocent look as he brushes off the accusation.

"Whaaat? No. Ich habe dich vermisst. That is all!"

Quicksilver

I'm not even gonna lie the fic half of this is just part of that enemies to lovers hcs that I wrote

anyway!!

Pietro is a very pouty, bratty kind of Jealous.

Like sure he trusts you and all but you actually looked at someone else while they were speaking to you? >:[ Don't look at them. Look at him. Smile at him not them. You're laughing at something they said? Well, he's funnier than them!!

He's just, so pouty over the smallest, pettiest things. He just needs a smooch on the forehead and some reassurance and also possibly cuddles, and he'll be fine. God he's such a brat ILHSM

However, If someone is actually flirting with you or going too far and making you uncomfortable, he will in fact throw hands. Or do his speedster thing and find a way to embarrass them, like pantsing them or planting something embarrassing on them. One time he snatched a guy's cell and called his wife before planting it in the man's pocket so she could hear all the flirting he was doing. Now that was fun.

"So I heard you had dinner with the wolfie guy tonight." The sound of Pietro's voice makes you yelp in surprise. You whirl around to see him leaning against the wall of your room, arms crossed. You scoff, and pick a pillow off of your bed to chuck it at him. He catches it easily.

"His name is Logan, and No. Not really. All we did was happen to sit next to each other at dinner." You turn back around to sit at your vanity, but Pietro is already there, sitting on the stool with the pink pillow tucked into his arms.

"So you did have dinner with him?" He pouts. You roll your eyes at him, holding back a laugh as you shove him off the seat. He looses his balance for less than a second before there's a gust and he's sitting cross-legged on your bed, having tossed the pillow to the side.

"What does it matter to you, anyway? You're not even supposed to be here, Pietro." You tease as you sit down, unable to keep yourself from smiling. You comb through your hair as you ready yourself for bed, still grinning like an idiot as you hear Pietro huff and haw.

"Why shouldn't it matter?" He asks, watching as you complete your routine. "I- I have a reason to care." He stutters out cheeks flushing a light pink that reaches his ears. You cover your mouth to keep yourself from laughing.

"Don't laugh!" Pietro objects, and it sends you into a fit of laughter as you stand back up and flop onto your back on the bed next to him.

"He's not my type anyway." You say. It only takes a second before Pietro is leaning over you, caging you between his arms. There's the ghost of a grin beginning to form on his face, simply at the sight of your own cheesy expression.

"What is your type, then?" He asks, and you cock an eyebrow at him.

"Let's just say I prefer a man who can keep up with me." You say with a wink that may or may not have been the most terribly, corny action you could have done. Pietro doesn't seem to care as his face is split with an equally as corny grin.

Both of you are caught off guard by someone calling your same from the hallway, and then a knock shortly after. You take Pietro's moment of distraction and quickly lean up, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Pietro looks absolutely shocked.

"You better get going." You whisper. He smiles at you, almost in disbelief, and then he's gone, the window left open and the breeze catching on curtains, blowing gently.

[ncsdlr]

Punish, Praise, Repeat

WandaNat x Agathario x Reader

-----------------------

You knew you were in trouble the second Rio walked in.

No one said anything — they didn’t have to. The look on her face did all the talking. That little tilt of her head, the cocky smirk that said oh, you thought you were getting away with that, and the slow drag of her thumb across her bottom lip, eyes already on your legs like they were her property.

Then came Agatha. Unbothered, in silk. She didn’t even glance at you as she sat, long legs crossed, wine glass in hand like you were something she’d come back to when she was ready. She was always the scariest when she was quiet.

Nat leaned against the wall next. Smirking. Arms crossed. “Look who suddenly remembers we exist,” she said, low and dry. “Should we clap? Or make her beg?”

And Wanda? Oh, Wanda just smiled.

Not nice.

Not sweet.

But pretty. Dangerous. The kind of smile that meant she already had a plan, and it was going to wreck you in the prettiest way possible.

“Get on your knees,” she said.

You opened your mouth — maybe to sass, maybe to plead — but Nat was already behind you, one hand in your hair. Not hard. Not rough. But firm. Enough to make your breath catch.

“You don’t get to talk, baby. Not yet,” she whispered against your ear.

And just like that, you were back in your place. Right where they wanted you.

Natasha's hand stayed in your hair. Gentle, but immovable. “Aw. Look at her. Already squirming.”

Wanda crouched in front of you, like she had all the time in the world. Her manicured fingers skimmed up the side of your jaw, tilting your face toward her. “I think she forgot the rules,” she murmured, mock-pouting. “Didn’t we say no touching yourself without permission?”

“Three times,” Agatha said from behind her glass, voice like ice water down your spine.

You shivered. Not from fear. Not exactly.

Wanda’s smile widened. “So we agree,” she said lightly, eyes still locked on yours. “She doesn’t deserve to be touched. At least… not until she’s worked for it.”

Natasha leaned in, breath hot against your neck. “How many does she owe us?”

“One each,” Rio said, bored, like this was just an agenda item on her list. “Make her earn it.”

And that’s how you found yourself on your knees, flushed and shaking, while Wanda pressed two fingers to your bottom lip and cooed, “Open, sweetheart.”

You did. Of course you did.

“Good girl,” she purred. “Now let’s see if that mouth is good for more than just pouting.”

Natasha laughed. Low and dark. “Spoiled little thing,” she said, unzipping her jeans. “Bet she thought one kiss and a few whines were gonna get her off tonight.”

“Not tonight,” Wanda whispered. Her fingers eased past your lips, and she dragged them slow over your tongue — not because she needed to. Because she could. “Tonight, she serves.”

And baby, you served.

Wanda fucks your mouth with her fingers, Natasha touches you all over. They whisper threats between kisses, their hands dragging down your back to keep you still. Natasha was all bite and bruises, Wanda was all heat and simply knowing. Together, they unraveled you like they’d written the manual.

Your knees ached. Your mouth was raw from Wanda's fingers. But the ache between your legs? Unmatched.

You moaned against Wanda’s fingers as Natasha gripped your jaw and said, “You don’t come. Not until Rio says so.”

And from the couch, Rio finally looked up. Eyes heavy-lidded, almost lazy.

“She’s not even close to earning me,” she said. “Keep her begging.”

You were trembling when Wanda pulled her fingers out of your mouth. All these feelings, and none of them have even been inside you yet.

Your thighs were slick, and you couldn’t remember the last time someone let you breathe. Every nerve felt raw. Every moan you'd let out around Wanda's fingers before they left you felt like a scream that didn’t quite make it out.

Wanda kissed the corner of your mouth, smug and sweet. “You did so good for us, honey,” she whispered. “Didn’t she, Nat?”

Natasha tilted your chin up again, eyes scanning your face like she was deciding whether to let you live or make you cry one more time. “Not bad for some brat,” she said, and tapped your cheek twice before backing off.

That’s when you felt it — the room shift.

You didn’t have to look to know Agatha was standing.

You felt it in your spine. That sharp, electric awareness that something untouchable was finally coming down from her throne.

Your head turned when Natasha and Wanda backed away from you, sitting themselves on separate armchairs in the center of the room.

Agatha. Still in silk. Still in heels. Still composed like nothing in the last hour had even grazed her. Her eyes roamed over your body like you were a piece of art she hadn’t decided if she wanted to buy or destroy.

And then she spoke.

“Crawl.”

The room went still.

You blinked.

She didn’t repeat herself. She didn’t need to.

You moved.

Agatha didn’t move to meet you — she waited. Perfectly still, hands at her sides, letting the sound of your palms on the floor echo in the silence. You reached her feet and sat back on your heels, chest heaving.

She leaned down, finally touching you — just two fingers under your chin.

“I don’t like sloppy girls,” she said. “And you’re a mess.”

You didn’t even flinch.

“I could walk away,” she said, eyes sharp. “I should. But…”

Her fingers slid down your throat, slow, and she smiled like she was enjoying a private joke.

“…you want me too much, don’t you?”

You nodded. Barely.

Agatha tilted your head, leaned in, and kissed you. Slow. Controlled. Not hungry — not yet. Just enough to remind you that if she gave you anything, it was a gift.

When she pulled back, your lips were shaking.

She smirked. “Get on the couch.”

You obeyed — legs weak, stomach tight. And when you turned to face Agatha from your kneeling position next to Rio now, you nearly gasped.

Rio was laid out. Legs crossed. One hand resting on the arm of the couch like this was a business meeting, and you were the deal on the table. The woman was staring into your soul as you sat there watching Agatha from beside her.

Her eyes didn’t leave yours as she said, “Take your clothes off and fuck yourself for us.”

You froze.

Not because you didn’t hear her.

But because you did.

Agatha’s voice wasn’t loud, but it didn’t have to be. It landed like a slap. Soft. Sharp. Final.

“Take your clothes off,” she repeated, one brow arched, “and fuck yourself for us.”

Your heart stuttered. Your fingers didn’t.

You stripped — slowly. Not seductively. Not confidently. Just—naked. In the truest sense. Every inch revealed felt like another layer of control you were handing over, and the four of them? They didn’t blink.

Wanda watched with parted lips like she’d already memorized the shape of your thighs. Nat’s arms were back over the couch now, legs spread, gaze dark, jaw tight.

And Rio?

Fucking terrifying.

She hadn’t moved.

One leg still crossed. Fingers still grazing the rim of her glass like she didn’t care — like she could look away at any moment and wouldn’t lose a single ounce of interest.

But she didn’t look away.

She watched you with that unreadable expression, and somehow that was worse than anything Nat had done. That silence made your skin burn more than Wanda’s touch ever had.

You sank onto the couch.

Open. Exposed. Your own fingers hovering like even you weren’t sure you deserved this.

Rio sipped her drink. “Do it right,” she said, without a hint of heat. “Or don’t do it at all.”

Your hand dropped between your legs like a command had moved it.

You didn’t rush.

You couldn’t. Not with four pairs of eyes on you—not when you could feel how every breath, every twitch of your fingers, every choked sound you made was being dissected. You persevered because you could be punished worse: They could just stop everything and ignore you.

Wanda exhaled like she was the one being touched. Nat adjusted her seat, legs bouncing slightly. Agatha’s smile deepened, cruel and beautiful.

But Rio? She just watched. Still.

And that did more to you than your own hand ever could.

Your thighs trembled. Your lips parted. You were close already — you had been since Wanda first touched you — but you couldn’t come yet. Because it just wasn't enough. You needed them. All of them.

“You’re not gonna come yet,” Agatha said simply, as if reading your mind. “That’s not up to you.”

You whimpered your fingers stuttuering in your pussy slightly.

Wanda giggled.

Natasha smirked. “Think she can hold it?”

Agatha tilted her head. “She better. Or she won't get anything else.”

You whimpered a whine again — louder this time.

And Rio finally spoke.

“Let her get close.”

A pause.

“Then make her stop.”

You were panting.

Sweat-slicked and flushed, back arched off the couch in helpless little jolts, fingers still thrusting — desperate, frantic, fucking pathetic.

And still.

Still…

Not enough.

Your fingers were soaked. Your thighs were trembling. Every time you edged close, your body tensed, ready to fall—and then stalled. Like something inside you knew better. Like you didn’t have permission. Like your body refused to finish without being told it could.

Wanda leaned forward with her chin in her hand, watching you squirm with stars in her eyes. “Poor thing,” she cooed. “She’s trying so hard.”

Natasha snorted. “Look at her,” she said, tilting her head. “Doesn’t even know how to make herself come anymore. That’s what happens when you get used to being spoiled.”

You whimpered — because they were right.

You weren’t ruined. Not properly. And now you couldn’t be, not without them.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Agatha added lazily, crossing her legs the other way. “You’re lucky it’s cute.”

And then you heard it — the soft sound of a buckle.

You blinked through the haze of frustration and heat to see Wanda already standing, one strap in hand, humming to herself as she began securing it low on her hips like she was getting ready for brunch. Natasha was next, tossing hers onto the cushion beside her like it was just part of the decor.

Wanda caught your eye as she pulled the straps tight.

“Aw, don’t cry,” she said, mocking-sweet. “We’re gonna take care of you.”

“Eventually,” Natasha muttered.

And then — like it wasn’t a big deal at all — Wanda turned to Rio, holding something in her hand.

“Want one too?” she asked, casual. Like she was offering gum.

Rio didn’t look up right away. Just finished the last sip of her drink, set the glass down with a soft clink.

Then she reached for the harness.

Didn’t say a word.

Just slid it from Wanda’s fingers and began buckling it on like it was her birthright.

You let out a soft, broken sound.

The kind that wasn’t a moan, wasn’t a whimper — just surrender.

Because Rio in a strap? That wasn’t just a threat. That was prophecy.

Agatha’s smile curled slow.

“Oh,” she said, lifting her chin with a stupid grin on her face. “Now she’s scared.”

Rio looked at you — finally — as she tugged the strap into place.

Not hungry.

Not cruel.

Just... decided.

“You wanted this,” she said.

And you did.

God, you did.

But not like this.

Not like them, hard and waiting.

Not with her, silent and strapped.

Not with every inch of you already trembling from nothing at all.

And yet here you were — ruined before they’d even touched you.

Suddenly Agatha pulls your hand away from your cunt, your back arching immediately when her own hand rubs at your clit. Moans are ripped out of you, now getting close enough to the edge in a way that you can finish. But then it all stops. Again. And it reminds you that this is a punishment, not a reward.

You're sobbing by the time her hand leaves you.

Not crying — not exactly — just wrecked and shaking, with your mouth open in some twisted, breathless moan that doesn’t land anywhere.

You could’ve come.

You would’ve.

If she hadn’t stopped.

Again.

Agatha stands behind you now, fingers still damp, eyes sharper than they’ve ever been.

“This isn’t about you,” she says against your ear, tone cold and clean and final. “It never was.”

And then she drags you up.

Not gently. Not rough, either. Just unrelenting.

You scramble to follow, legs trembling, chest rising fast, and Agatha doesn't even flinch. She walks you forward by the wrist like you’re weightless — like you're nothing more than a spoiled brat in need of redirection.

She stops in front of Natasha.

Natasha spreads her legs.

Smirking.

Waiting.

You think — yes, finally, — and then Agatha turns you around.

Pushes you down into Nat’s lap, facing her, and it takes everything in you not to moan out too loudly.

Straddling. Mounting. Placed.

Agatha’s hands don’t leave your body. One on your lower back. The other at your throat, holding you steady like a doll.

“Ride her,” Agatha says. “Slow.”

You whimper. Your hips twitch.

Natasha’s hands grip your waist immediately, ready, eager, cocky.

But nothing happens.

Not yet.

You’re still frozen — breath shaking — waiting for permission to move.

Agatha leans in behind you, lips ghosting over your jaw.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

So you move.

Down. Just enough to feel it — thick and hot and finally where you need it.

Natasha groans under her breath. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

You moan. High and broken.

But Agatha’s grip tightens on your throat — not to choke, just to remind.

Slow.

You do as you’re told. Hips rolling, dragging yourself down inch by inch, every second an ache. You’re not fucking Natasha — you're being fucked by obedience.

“Look at her,” Wanda purrs from beside you, already palming herself through her harness. “She’s falling apart already.”

Rio’s watching again. Silent. Still.

And somehow worse.

Because her hand rests lazily between her legs now, her strap waiting, fingers drumming softly over the base like she’s bored.

Like she’s wondering if you’ll even survive long enough to take her.

Agatha leans closer.

“You want her next?” she whispers, voice just for your ears.

Your moan turns into a plea.

And Agatha smirks, satisfied.

“Then show me you deserve her.”

You don’t know how long it’s been.

How many times your hips have rolled, or how many shaky breaths you’ve taken between moans that barely even sound like you anymore.

Your body’s done. Every nerve is frayed. Your thighs burn, your hands are slipping, and Natasha — beneath you, strong and steady — is the only reason you’re still upright at all.

But it’s not about her.

It’s about you.

Because you're the one who’s been left chasing — over and over — so fucking close, so right there, and still denied like it's a game. Like they’re just watching you crumble for fun.

(And maybe they are.)

Agatha’s still behind you, whispering cruel little things in your ear. Wanda’s on the floor now, hand between her legs, strap forgotten, just watching you fall apart. And Rio?

She hasn’t moved.

But she’s staring. Silent. Intense. Like she’s watching your soul try to claw out of your body.

And then—

You feel it.

That low, pulsing coil finally snapping.

No permission.

No warning.

You come.

Hard.

Messy.

Loud.

It crashes through you like punishment and reward all at once, your whole body shuddering, vision gone white at the edges. Your hips buck, your mouth falls open in a soundless cry, and then—

Wet.

You soak Natasha’s strap.

Her thighs.

Her stomach.

You don't even realize it at first — not until she curses under her breath, gripping your hips tight to keep you steady as your body jerks and grinds through it.

“Fuck,” Natasha mutters, voice low and stunned. “What a mess.”

That’s all it takes.

The room explodes.

Wanda bursts out in a chuckle, head thrown back, eyes lit up. “Oh my god, baby, you squirted for her?”

“Desperate little thing,” Agatha croons, voice full of mockery and pride. “Look at you. Finally came and still can’t stop shaking.”

Rio doesn’t say anything.

Just tilts her head.

And smiles.

That small, terrifying little smile that says she’s already thinking about what happens next.

You’re panting. Collapsed. Broken. Still trembling as you press your forehead into Natasha’s shoulder, too wrung out to speak.

And still — even now — every eye in the room is on you. Because you finally finished. But not by yourself. Not on your terms. You came because they let you. And they’re never going to let you forget it.

You barely had time to breathe.

Your chest was still heaving, thighs trembling, slick still dripping down Natasha’s skin when Agatha’s hands returned — sharp, certain, and not remotely gentle.

“Up.”

You whimpered, your body twitching like it didn’t know how to move anymore. But Agatha didn’t wait for you to obey.

She grabbed your hips and lifted.

You yelped, half-sliding off Natasha’s lap, your overstimulated body struggling to keep up. But Agatha was already moving you — across the couch, across the room, like you weighed nothing at all.

“Was that satisfying for you?” she asked, cool and amused. “Was that enough?”

You couldn’t answer.

Didn’t matter.

She didn’t want an answer.

She dropped you — unceremoniously — onto Wanda’s lap.

Wanda let out a surprised breath, arms catching you by instinct.

“Well hello again,” she purred, laughing softly. “Miss me?”

You were still shaking.

Still wet.

Still open and aching and too fucked-out to think.

But Agatha was already behind you again, hands on your shoulders, nails just sharp enough to leave little warnings down your skin.

“Get to work,” she said.

You straddled Wanda with legs that barely worked.

Everything in you felt undone. Raw. Used too much. And it wasn’t fair — it wasn’t — because usually by now, someone was holding you, whispering sweet things, letting you collapse after coming that hard.

Usually, there were hands pulling you close.

Mouths kissing your temple.

Bodies letting you rest.

But not tonight.

Tonight you were expected to keep going. Alone. With four sets of eyes still on you like you were just getting started.

Your breath hitched as you sank down onto Wanda’s strap, your body jolting at the first stretch. It hurt. Not bad. Not really. Just enough to make your thighs twitch and your lip wobble.

And no one even moved to help you.

Agatha stood behind you, arms crossed, utterly still.

Natasha wiped her stomach off with the corner of a blanket and didn’t even look at you.

Rio was still lounging, perfectly composed, like you weren’t even in the room.

And Wanda?

Wanda… cupped your hips.

Warm. Steady. Supportive.

“There you go, sweetheart,” she murmured, tilting her head like she was watching something fragile grow. “That’s it. Just like that. I’ve got you.”

You whimpered — not from the stretch, not from the ache — but from that.

That voice.

That softness.

She shouldn’t be soft. She wasn’t supposed to be soft.

Not when you were this tired. Not when your hands were gripping her shoulders like she was your only anchor. Not when Agatha was behind you, cold and expectant.

“Don’t slow down,” Agatha said.

You jerked upright.

“I said ride, not cling,” she added, her voice slicing through the air.

You tried.

God, you tried.

Your hips moved in shaky little rolls, your breath stuttering as Wanda’s strap hit all the right places but nothing was helping—because no one was guiding you like they usually did.

You hated it.

You hated that you needed them.

You hated that they weren’t giving you what they always did — praise, rhythm, fingers in your hair, hands on your thighs — all of it. Gone. Withheld.

And yet—

“You’re doing so good,” Wanda whispered, almost like she was afraid Agatha would hear. “You’re taking it all, baby. Look at you.”

You whined again.

Louder this time.

Your eyes burned. Your legs trembled. But still you moved. Because that was the only way out.

Work for it. Take it. Earn it.

You buried your face in Wanda’s neck, trying not to cry as she whispered, “You’re so pretty like this. They don’t deserve to watch you fall apart.”

But they did.

They all did.

And they were.

Agatha leaned down just enough to murmur, “Don’t you dare come without permission again.”

And your whole body tensed. Because you were close. And they knew it. And they weren’t going to help you.

You didn’t mean to chase it.

Not really.

Your hips were moving — slow, shallow, tired — more like survival than sin. Every bounce was a breath, every grind a silent prayer. You weren’t even trying to come.

You were just… trying to last.

But Wanda’s hands never left you.

One on your hip, one splayed across your lower back, holding you there — not controlling you, just steadying you. Like she could feel the shake in your thighs. Like she knew you were breaking and just wanted to keep the pieces from falling too hard.

“That’s it, baby,” she whispered. “Just like that.”

You moaned. Quiet. Guttural.

Not because it felt good — not just that.

Because it hurt now. The ache in your legs. The heat between your thighs. The pressure building again, again, again, like your body hadn’t learned from the last time.

“Doing so well,” Wanda murmured, voice like warm honey in your ear. “Taking me so deep. I know it’s hard.”

You gasped.

Her strap hit just right — high, deep, good — and your vision blurred for a second. Your hands clenched against her shoulders.

Wanda shifted under you, tilting up just a little, helping you ride it — breaking the rules in the smallest, softest way.

“Fuck,” you breathed, forehead falling against hers. “Please…”

You didn’t even know what you were asking for.

A break?

Forgiveness?

Permission?

Wanda didn’t answer. Just kissed your cheek. Barely there. Tender and quiet and wrong.

And that was it.

That did it.

Your body clenched around nothing, everything.

You came.

Not with a scream, not with a bang — but a sob.

A whole-body, high-pitched cry you couldn’t swallow down in time. Your thighs seized, your back arched, and your mouth dropped open as your orgasm ripped through you so sudden, so deep it felt like it had been waiting in your bones.

You tried to stop it. You really did.

But it was too much.

Too gentle. Too denied. Too good.

Wanda held you through it — hands firm, voice low and proud.

“There you go,” she whispered. “That’s my good girl.”

And somewhere behind you, you heard Agatha’s voice.

Sharp.

Cold.

The last of it shuddered out of you — trembling, raw, soaked and slack against Wanda’s body, thighs twitching with every breath.

You were still panting when Agatha’s fingers wrapped around your arm.

She said nothing at first.

Just pulled you up — slow, effortless, uncaring of how boneless and ruined you were — and off Wanda’s lap like you were a toy being passed around.

You didn’t resist.

You couldn’t.

But your stomach dropped the second she leaned in and said, soft and deadly:

“You’ll pay later.”

Your heart stopped.

You didn’t even have the strength to protest. You barely had the breath to think.

But Agatha kept going, dragging you across the room with the same clinical detachment she’d had all night.

You caught Natasha’s eyes as she approached.

And for one fleeting second, you thought—

Maybe—

Maybe Agatha was giving you back. Letting you fall into Natasha’s arms, letting her hold you, soothe you, fuck you slow until the dread faded and the ache dulled into something bearable.

Natasha even opened her arms, one leg already spreading like she was ready for it.

“Come here, baby,” she murmured, voice so soft it didn’t feel like a trick. “You’re okay.”

You moved toward her. Limp. Heavy.

And then—

Agatha pulled you back.

Hard.

Your body snapped upright with a gasp, blinking through the haze, just as Agatha’s fingers slid under your chin and tipped your face up to hers.

“You don’t get comfort,” she said. “You get consequence.”

Then she turned.

And you saw where she was taking you.

Rio.

Still untouched. Still reclined like a goddamn sculpture. Her strap gleamed in the low light, her fingers now resting on the couch beside her like she was finally ready.

Your mouth went dry.

No one said anything.

Not Wanda.

Not Natasha — who only watched with a quiet, wicked smile pulling at her lips.

Not even Rio.

She just looked at you.

And patted her thigh once.

Agatha’s hand curled tighter at your waist.

“Let’s see how long you last this time.”

Rio didn’t say anything when Agatha dropped you in her lap.

Didn’t touch you.

Didn’t adjust you.

She just let you settle — sore, shaky, overstimulated — your thighs barely managing to straddle her, her strap hard beneath you like a threat you hadn’t earned the right to avoid.

She looked at you like you were… tired.

Not in a soft way.

In a pathetic one.

You didn’t realize you’d started trembling again until she tilted her head, eyes sliding up your body like she was evaluating damage.

“Already falling apart?” she asked, voice calm. “You’ve barely moved.”

Your jaw clenched. You tried — hips rocking forward, dragging yourself slowly along her strap — but your body was so far gone it felt like begging for something you weren’t built to survive.

Rio still didn’t touch you.

Didn’t help.

Didn’t guide.

She just watched you struggle.

Watched the way your knees buckled and your rhythm stuttered, the way you bit back your moans like you could pretend this wasn’t wrecking you in a whole new way.

“Pathetic,” she murmured — not cruel. Just… observant.

You whimpered, chest caving.

“I don’t even have to touch you,” she said. “You’re doing it all yourself. Look at you. Struggling to fuck me right and still trying.”

You tried to speed up.

You shouldn’t have.

She caught your hips — not with help, but with force — holding you still mid-thrust.

You gasped.

She raised a brow.

“I didn’t ask for faster.”

She let you go.

You moved again — slower, deeper, biting your lip until it nearly bled.

Behind you, Wanda was laughing softly into Natasha’s mouth. The two of them tangled together on the couch like they weren’t even part of this anymore, Natasha’s hand sliding up Wanda’s thigh while they kissed, slow and open-mouthed, like your ruin was background noise.

Rio’s eyes flicked toward them. Then back to you.

“Even they’re bored,” she said.

You whined — not out of protest, but need.

You tried harder.

You started riding her like your life depended on it — every drop of wet heat dragging against her strap like an apology you didn’t have words for.

And Rio?

Smiled.

Finally.

And said, “Don’t stop until you cry.”

You didn’t know how you were still moving.

Every part of you hurt.

Your legs ached. Your cunt throbbed. Your lungs burned with every broken gasp you tried to hold back. You were soaked — not just wet, but ruined — thighs slick, strap messy, heartbeat pounding in your ears like it was trying to get out.

And Rio was still watching you like you hadn’t done a single thing right.

Like you were still falling short.

You’d already come once on her.

It wasn’t graceful.

You didn’t even mean to — it slammed into you so hard, so sharp, that you nearly collapsed in her lap with a sob you couldn’t swallow. It was ugly. Wet. Unforgivable.

And she didn’t say a word.

Didn’t praise you.

Didn’t stop.

She just held you steady — one hand on your hip, the other resting on your thigh — and said, low and plain:

“Again.”

You cried.

Not loud.

Not messy.

Just… quiet tears sliding down your cheeks as your body kept moving because you had to. Because she was still hard inside you, and no one said you could stop, and your thighs were shaking so badly now you didn’t know if the tremble was from pain or pleasure or panic.

“I can’t—” you whispered, voice cracking.

Rio hummed.

Not amused.

Not sympathetic.

Just acknowledging.

“You can,” she said simply.

And you hated her for it.

You hated how calm she was. How still. How she hadn’t broken a sweat while you were falling to pieces on top of her.

You hated that your own orgasm — the one building again — felt ugly. Too much. Too fast. Like your body was betraying you just to please her.

You whimpered, hips stuttering as the heat built again — that sickening, overwhelming pressure that told you this was going to be worse than the last one.

“No,” you breathed. “I can’t—please—”

She gripped your jaw.

Finally.

Made you look at her.

“Then cry for it.”

That was it.

You shattered.

The second orgasm hit like a wave slamming into a broken body — there was no grace, no rhythm, no sense to it. Just noise. Just wet. Just a desperate, humiliated collapse as you came for her again, harder than before, harder than you thought you could.

Your mouth dropped open in a sob that never became a word.

Your nails clawed at her shoulder.

Your body gave out mid-thrust, cunt pulsing wildly around the strap as your second orgasm wrung you out like a rag.

You couldn’t see.

You couldn’t speak.

You just broke.

And Rio?

She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t comfort.

Didn’t care.

She only tilted her head and said, cool and quiet:

“There she is.”

Then the room was quiet.

Not silent — just… quiet.

You were still in Rio’s lap, crumpled and boneless, her strap miraculously out of you now, your arms slack, your body trembling from the inside out. The only sound was your breathing — high, broken, trying to slow down but never quite catching.

And then you felt it.

A shift.

Not physical.

Energy.

Like something in the air had changed. Like everyone had taken one collective breath and remembered that you were still a person.

Wanda sat up first, gently peeling herself away from Natasha’s mouth, eyes finding yours with a soft crease of worry.

She said, voice warm. “You alright?”

Natasha blinked, then nodded slowly, echoing her tone. “Still with us?”

You tried to speak.

You really did.

But it came out as a whimper — not from pain, not from panic — just a soft, tired little sound that said yes in a voice you didn’t have anymore.

Rio shifted beneath you. Let go of your waist to caress the top of your head.

Agatha stepped closer, running her fingertips down your back lightly.

“You’re done when you say you’re done,” she said plainly-softly. “You want to stop?”

You didn’t answer at first.

Because stopping sounded… safe.

It sounded warm. It sounded like soft blankets and praise and water.

But it didn’t sound right.

Because your body still ached. Your skin still burned. Your thighs were still slick. And even with your chest heaving and your eyes stinging — you weren’t done.

You shook your head.

Once.

Small.

Agatha raised a brow. “Say it.”

Your lip trembled.

“Don' wan' stop,” you whispered.

Agatha smiled — slow, almost kind. She leaned forward, her fingers brushing your jaw, tilting your head back to face hers above you.

“You sure?”

You nodded.

She kissed your cheek.

Then let her hand drift lower.

Between your legs.

And her fingers — two of them — slid through your soaked folds like a sigh.

You gasped, eyebrows furrowing as you stayed looking into Agatha's eyes.

“Good girl,” she murmured.

The pressure was immediate. Rhythmic. Precise. She didn’t tease. Didn’t build. She just pushed — fingers rubbing circles into your clit like she already knew exactly how to undo you all over again.

You cried out — not from pain, not from surprise — but because you were still feeling everything.

The ache.

The need.

The shame.

The pleasure that hadn’t gone away, just buried itself under layers of obedience.

You shouldn’t have wanted more.

But you did.

You wanted this.

Her.

All of them.

You moaned — louder now — as Agatha’s fingers picked up speed, her mouth brushing your ear like a kiss and a threat.

“You’re gonna give us one more,” she whispered. “A real one. The kind that makes you beg.”

And you did.

You begged.

And then you came.

Hard.

Again.

And finally, this time — they all watched you break with pride.

Your body was moving on its own.

Or maybe you weren’t moving at all — maybe Agatha’s fingers were just dragging the pleasure out of you, curling against your clit in slow, cruelly perfect circles. It didn’t matter. Everything else was gone.

There was only this.

Only her hand between your legs, the weight of everyone’s gaze still on you, the raw burn of overstimulation curling deeper, sharper, tighter.

You sobbed into it.

Breathless. Needy. Silent. Every moan caught in your throat like you were choking on the sound of your own pleasure.

Your hips twitched against her palm. Your body tried to get away — and failed. Again. And again.

“You’re so close,” Agatha murmured, her voice a low hum against your temple. “One more. Give it to me.”

And you did.

It broke through you like fire.

No warning this time. No control.

Just raw, unbearable release — a high, desperate moan tearing from your chest as your whole body seized, clenching down around nothing, legs shaking violently, slick soaking down your thighs, your cunt pulsing so hard you thought you might pass out from the effort of it.

Agatha held you through all of it — one arm braced around your waist, her fingers still stroking you through the aftershocks until your hips jerked too hard and your voice cracked into a whimper.

And then, finally—

It stopped.

She let go.

Your body folded forward.

And this time, when you fell, they caught you.

Wanda’s arms wrapped around your shoulders first, warm and strong, pulling you into her chest like she’d been waiting. Natasha was beside her, hand already cupping your cheek, brushing damp strands of hair away with the softest touch you’d felt all night.

“You did so good,” Wanda whispered, kissing your temple. “So good for us.”

You couldn’t speak.

You didn’t need to.

You just let yourself be held — body trembling, brain floating, chest rising and falling in little aftershocks as they anchored you back to yourself.

Someone — you didn’t know who — was tugging a blanket around your shoulders. Natasha’s voice was murmuring something into your ear, something low and comforting. You felt her press a kiss to your forehead.

Rio knelt beside you next, one hand on your thigh, gentle now. Thumb stroking softly over the same place she'd bruised earlier.

“You’re alright,” she said — not teasing. Just true.

Agatha leaned in last, crouched in front of you now. She looked at you for a long moment — no cruelty, no smirk — just quiet pride.

Then, finally, she reached out.

Wiped a tear from your cheek.

“Good girl,” she said. “We’ve got you now.”

And you believed her. Your legs barely worked when they finally stood you up.

Wanda was on one side, Natasha on the other, both of them steadying your weight like it was second nature — like carrying you was something they’d do again and again without question.

Agatha trailed behind, a protective shadow at your back, her hand never leaving the small of your spine.

Rio led the way.

The hall was quiet. Cool against your flushed skin. Every step felt slow, underwater, your body boneless, wrapped in Wanda’s blanket and Natasha’s touch. You weren’t even sure your feet were on the ground.

The bed was already turned down.

Soft sheets. Heavy pillows. A dim light casting a golden halo over everything.

Rio sat first, back against the headboard, calm and still as ever — but her arms were open now. Waiting.

You didn’t hesitate.

You let them guide you into her lap, your cheek resting against her chest, her fingers threading gently into your hair.

Wanda climbed in behind you, curling herself around your back like a second heartbeat, her hand tracing light circles over your stomach. Natasha followed, settling on your other side, lips pressed to your shoulder, murmuring quiet praise that barely made sense but filled your chest like breath.

Agatha stood at the edge for a moment.

Watching.

Then, finally — slowly — she crawled in beside all of you.

She didn’t say anything.

Just slid her arm over your waist, fitting herself into the space between Wanda and Natasha, her hand finding yours under the blanket and squeezing.

No one moved for a while.

Just silence.

Warmth.

Breathing.

You were held. Buried in touch and comfort, in their bodies and their care, like your whole purpose now was just to rest — like you’d been used, yes, but never discarded.

You weren’t alone.

You weren’t forgotten.

And for the first time in hours — maybe longer — you felt your body let go.

Safe.

Anchored.

Loved.

Agatha’s voice was the last thing you heard, a whisper against your ear just as your eyes fluttered closed.

“Sleep, baby. We’ll all be here when you wake up.”

[wstviewvidal]

courtyard- w. maximoff

summary: kids say the most random things, don’t they?

pairing: teacher!wanda x teacher!r

“stop fidgeting so much,” wanda says was the stands beside you, “you’re making me anxious.”

you exhale harshly through your nose, “sorry, i almost lost a kid last time we went on a field trip.”

she tries her best to conceal her laugh with a cough, her shoulders shaking as she tries to turn her body to the side.

you throw your head back and smack her shoulder with a small bit of force, “maximoff, stop.”

today is the first field trip of the year and to say you’re nervous is an understatement.

you spent the past twenty four hours going over signed documents, payment receipts, printed out emails, even recounting money to ensure this field trip went to plan.

you, wanda, and a few other teachers are lined next to the school buses. wanda notices the way you rock back and forth on your heels. she places a gentle hand on your forearm and smiles at you in a comforting manner.

“you’re going to be fine,” she places her sunglasses on the top of her head, “we’re chaperoning the same group, we’ll be fine.”

you nod softly, grateful you were partnered with wanda to chaperone a group of eight students. you exhale softly and calm down.

wanda watches as you ground yourself after she reassures you. she watches the way you count the kids and pop your knuckles out of habit. too absorbed in you, she doesn’t even realize her colleague is watching the interaction in amusement.

soon after, the two of you are sat at the front of the bus en route to the botanical garden. you look out the window at the buildings as you pass, oblivious to the fact that wanda’s been watching you from the corner of her eye.

“you’re staring,” you turn to her with an amused expression, “why?”

wanda shrugs nonchalantly, “just want to make sure you’re not going to pass out before we get there.”

she tries her best to hide her laugh when you give her an offended look, scoffing slightly, “you have such little faith in me and i’m offended.”

after a breath, you let out what she knows you’ve been holding in, “i swear if one of those kids-“

wanda sighs softly, “you’ll freak out and i’ll handle it— as always.”

you purse your lips— she’s not wrong. you tut your head and pout.

she smiles at you, nudging your shoulder with hers, “we make a good pair.”

you laugh softly, nodding softly at her remark— acting as though it didn’t make your heart skip a beat.

you two walk behind your group of students, both counting the eight kids silently and giving each other a slight nod of reassurance every now and then.

luckily, you have a small group who has given no issues. you two stroll close enough to keep an eye on them but far enough to where you two can enjoy the scenery for yourselves.

the bees buzzing around the flowers distract you from the fact that you’re walking close to the woman you’ve grown to like in the past year. the same woman who can’t help but keep glancing in your direction.

the buzzing hums softer and softer as you focus on the students in front of you. you count eight for the fourth time in ten minutes— still eight.

from the corner of your eye you can see wanda smiling at you.

“you’re staring again,” you mumble, not turning to look at her.

wanda lets out a small laugh, turning away and facing forward as you two follow the group.

“just making sure you’re still breathing,” she says softly.

you let out a snort at that, shaking your head slightly in disbelief at the fact that wanda has not much faith in your emotional stability.

“someone has to look out for you, kid.”

lunch time finally rolls around and you are ready to sit down. the hours of walking around and doing scavenger hunt activities wore you down completely.

you’re sat under a purple and white umbrella, a chicken caesar wrap in your hand as you people watch.

“this is why people might think you’re weird, you know?” you hear her voice walking up to you, “you and your staring problems.”

“it’s called being observant, not nosy,” you correct her with an unamused look.

“same thing, different wordage,” she grabs a few of your chips, and gives you a cheeky smile. she knows you wouldn’t ever reprimand her for taking off of your plate.

her black sunglasses are perched atop her head, pushing her hair back and allowing you to study her side profile. her green irises scan the courtyard and count the kids in your group. your fingertips play with each other, a habit you picked up in undergrad— something you absentmindedly do when you’re deep in thought.

you don’t even notice wanda’s eyes are now on you. her head is tilted slightly and her eyebrows are furrowed, “hey, you okay?”

her hand touches yours, gently. her fingers graze the back of your palm, as if she knows it’ll bring you back down to earth.

you regain focus and nod, “yeah, just zoned out.

your voice is soft and far off and wanda can’t help but frown. she gives a short nod, not letting her eyes stray from you for too long.

“miss?” one of your students calls from a few feet behind you.

you turn to the girl, “what’s going on, mads?”

madeleine smiles at you, a mischievous look on her face that you can’t help but groan internally at.

“my friends and i wanted to ask-“

you and wanda look at one another with a nervous look, unsure of what to make of the girl’s tone.

“we were just wondering if you two were dating.”

madeleine leans on one hip, her fingers playing with the charm bracelet on her left wrist in nervous habit.

wanda looks over at you with an expression you can’t quite read. she raises her eyebrows, silently telling you to answer the question.

“madeleine,” your voice is low and firm, “no, we’re not, but that still is not a question to ask your teacher. much less about one of her colleagues.”

madeleine rolls her eyes, “fine, but everyone’s saying it would be cute.”

she walks away, leaving you and wanda to replay the sixteen year old’s words. did the two of you look like you’re dating?

you let out an exasperated sigh, “i’m sorry, wands.”

she smiles at you, a small laugh coming out of her mouth. she shakes her head in disbelief, “at least we know your kids are comfortable coming to you about anything.”

she picks another chip off your plate, “sixteen year olds really hold nothing back.. it’s kind of refreshing.”

you snort, nodding in agreement, “i was the same.”

wanda smiles at the thought of you as a teenager, being unapologetically herself. she looks at you, almost being able to see a younger you with the same dimples.

“it’s not like there’s even anything going on,” a small mumble comes your lips as you fix your lanyard.

wanda smirks in response, she doesn’t say anything immediately. she only nods.

“yeah.. nothing’s happening.”

you force yourself to look away from wanda’s eyes, back to the courtyard. eight. still eight.

[puffein]

untouchably yours

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader summary: one is said to be an emo burnout and the other is a recognized academic ice queen. they shouldn’t work, but in the spirit of corny dances and unplanned kisses—they might. warnings: mentions of abuse word count: 11543 a/n: i had so much fun writing this!!

general masterlist

The life you had led was something in the borders of what people called dull and bland. But if they were in your shoes, they would completely understand the life you had led. They would understand it if they were not high school kids, teenagers who are borderline horny and reckless. So, safe to say, you have the very reason for your actions, of what you have set yourself grounded on. 

You never doubted it, the life you hold onto was something you had proudly made yourself. You made promises and beliefs, that is why people call you the untouchable. You didn't really think of that title, you let that word be glued to your name like a mantra being passed on the crowded hallways of your school.

They gave you the title untouchable because not a single person has ever come close to dating you, that was their sole reason for accompanying that word to your name, like a fucking pop-star, ready to rise in a stage witth her electric guitar and pink microphone. 

Your mind can't seem to make up what you are feeling on that word, mainly because in Hindu caste system, untouchables are the lowest of low ranks, and these morons probably aren't smart enough to put hidden innuendo to your known title in the campus. They probably didn't know ancient India's caste system, right?

So, you really didn't think of it and ignored the word being passed on as you walked in the hallways full of lockers. You ignored the whispers, the silent murmurs of the ignorant high schoolers. 

Not until a grubby hand forcefully closes your locker as he lets his beefy biceps lean on it, "Baby, I think it's time for us to date. Don't ya think?"

Your lips twist in a symbol of annoyance, "I do think, Rumlow. I am just not sure if you are." 

With that, Rumlow scrambles on his feet as you push him hard away from your locker with one hand, the other hand busy clutching the books you had from the past class. He mutters a silent fucking virgin and continues to ramble along the lines of bitch as he walks away hastily. 

Okay, now, you definitely hate the title untouchable. Because that word just gave all the obnoxious high schoolers a reason to torment you. To give themselves the satisfaction of finally being able to touch the one who didn't like to be touched. And it gave you a headache for experiencing this way too frequently than you had liked.

"That was hot." 

A groan left in your mouth as you shove the books in your locker and you turn to give the owner of the voice the sweetest smile you could conjure, "You know what is more hotter?"

The boy perks up at the sudden suggestive voice you had given him, "Yeah?"

"For you to fuck off." 

You flipped your hair over your shoulder, clutching the straps of your bag tightly, you walked off with a middle finger high in your shoulders, waving it as a bunch of students snickers at the lame attempt of the boy.

That event mostly fills up your routine of your bland high school life, go to classes, flip off obnoxious men, attend classes, push off the high unpleasant smell of testosterone out of your proximity and then repeat. You didn't really have the liberty of stopping this madness as it has been happening since last year, you suddenly got this weird glow-up when in reality it was just really puberty doing its works. 

Slumping in the seat in front of a sleeping boy, the tousled brown haired boy sat up suddenly at the sudden intrusion, eyes darting everywhere as it finally landed on your busy figure of unclustering the materials needed for studying. 

"Y/N, you're here." He stated, arranging the big glasses on his face as he sat up straighter. 

You gave him a look, "Obviously, Peter." 

Peter, the only boy who treated you normally throughout high school has become your best friend for these past years. You had known him since you two were toddlers, having him as a neighbour was a blessing in disguise as it gave you an automatic friend. You didn't have to carry the burden of being alone while dealing with monstrosity. 

"Have you heard?" Peter starts, whispering as he eyes the librarian placed in the center of the library, in between the entrance and exit. 

"Can you help me with chemistry, I can't understand it." You distractedly asked him, flipping off pages in a thick book you had borrowed earlier before sitting across Peter.

Peter closes your book, your face gives away an irritated one. "Here, listen. I heard there's a bunch of seniors doing drugs on the back of the campus." 

"Like I care, Peter. That's their life, thank you very much for wasting my time. Now, compensate for it and make me understand chemistry." You hissed at him, gesturing him at the hands he clamped over the book. 

He quickly yanks it away, ducking his head as his eyes suddenly widen at something behind you. 

Your brows furrowed at his slumped figure, turning your body to catch the sights he is seeing behind you. Your eyes rolls in easily as your gaze lands on a girl with a leather jacket, her hands adoring with different kinds of rings, her green eyes prominent with the perfect eyeliner on her eyelids. 

"You have a crush on Maximoff? That's it?" You asked Peter, face twisting in disgust and displeasure.

The boy colored, "What, no!" He sputtered clumsily.

Your eyebrows raised at his red neck, "You can like whoever you like, Peter. I won't judge you for crushing on a girl who looks like she will either be smoking pot with you or burn you with her cigarette."

"I don't have a crush on her, she's just this one of the seniors who did drugs, apparently." He explains, yanking your thick book to open a page he knows off with ease. "And she's nice."

You laugh at his words, "She does drugs and nice. That is so ideal type, Peter. I am swooning." 

"Who is swooning?" An accented voice reaches onto your ears, you hear the low hissing of a chair being pulled and a warm presence beside you emits from it. 

You stayed silent at the sudden interruption, letting Peter handle whatever is happening. He was the one who manifested this, obsessing over seniors who are sure to not graduate this year are not worth your time.

A low hum comes in accompanied by a tap on top of your notebook, you look up to stare at her indignantly, "What?"

Her laugh comes off easily, the creases beside her eyes pronounced itself magnificent, "It's rude to not answer and I was just curious." 

"Stay curious, then."

"Ms. Wanda! I am pleased to meet you." Peter suddenly gets his tongue back as he interrupts the weird look Wanda is giving you.

You shrug them both as you continued working on your homework, the intense gaze of Wanda didn't leave your figure. You felt it intensely but ignored it as she always did this whenever you and her were both in the same premises like the hallways or in the bathroom even in the active discussion of the classroom. A heavy feeling at the back of your head will always situated itself during class and then when you look back, you will see her smirking, grinning as she shrugs. 

And that irritated you immensely. 

"You don't have to call me that, Parker. Made me feel like I'm bullying you or something." Wanda stated, eyes focused on your face as she tilted her head in interest. 

"If you're gonna stare at me longer, I will poke your eyes out with the pen I'm using." You calmly stated, hands moving fast with determination as the flow of your handwriting fills your notebook easily. 

Wanda's lips twitch in a satisfied grin, leaning back on the chair to make herself feel at home with you and Peter's company. She looks away, though, eyeing the way your hand moves diligently, you look up suddenly to stare at her, noticing the light pink spreading on her ears. 

"Aren't you gonna leave?" 

"Why would I?" She challenges you happily, tilting her head once more in determination. 

"This is our table." You tap the wooden commodity impatiently.

Wanda looks around the table, ducking seriously then shrugging, "There's no name written on it."

"Well, fuck you." You stood up suddenly, tired of having Wanda's budgering presence in your study session. 

She notices the brisk movement you had made in cleaning your things away, she scrambles on her feet to trail behind your swift motions of fleeing away, leaving Peter to trail behind the two of you in an alert manner. 

"I will gladly do that, if you let me." She huffs out, catching up onto your fast feet in ease. 

You instantaneously turn to glower at her, "Leave me alone and you smell like cigarettes. I hate people who smoke, they disgust me. Get away, Maximoff." 

With that you completely left her frozen in the middle of the hallways, you have noticed the sudden fall of her eyes but you shrug it off with nonchalant. Not caring if Peter is following you or not, you continue moving to go to the comforts of your home.

In the walls of your cozy home, the attitude you had in school is completely gone, exchanged with the sweetest daughter your mom could ever have. Calling out a greeting happily in the doorway, your body tenses at the silence of the structure. Hastily taking your shoes off before entering the premises, you once again called.

"Mom?" You peak your head at her office, eyes downcasted as you meet an empty room. 

You push the slightly ajar door of the master bedroom, not thinking too deeply, you open the door wide and open, only to be greeted in a sight you hated to see. 

Your mom scrambles off the hug she had committed with the man you cursed every night. Frowning at their closeness, you turn your back at them. 

"Honey, wait—"

Daughters shouldn't feel weird seeing their parents hug, right? But you had different circumstances, and these circumstances are dangerous and the root of all your problems. 

Your dad has been absent all your life, maybe not all, but half of it. He was good first, like all men do, he was a good father not until he started becoming an addict. Hurting your mom in front of your eyes, verbally abusing her like she was not his wife but a woman who cooks and cleans his stuff, you suffer deeply as you watch helplessly with your small body.

You were just a child and everything unfolds before your eyes.

They had divorce, you thought it was the end of it all but love works in a very cruel way. 

That's why you hated it.

You couldn't understand how your mom would easily take him back like it was nothing, like everything he has done was some sort of insignificant action that requires second chances.

You wiped the tears rushing down your cheeks, quickly putting on your shoes, you gave up on them as you heard the rushing heavy steps of the pair. Cursing deeply, you let your sock covered feet meet the hot surface of the pavement, running fast as your lungs felt heavier each sob and cry you let out. 

Your feet led you in a place you're unfamiliar with, an old playground. It looks sinister in the eyes of a scared teenager, but you were angry and sad, so this playground was the most comfortable place to have your sobs ring once again. 

You sit quietly on the swing, hiccuping at the remnants of your breakdown, you rest your foot on your lap, examining a circled red spot that spreads out quickly into a big one. 

You stare up at the night sky, lips downwards as you let out a sudden sob again for the third time. You didn't know how many minutes your running took up and you surely didn't know how many hours you had stayed in the playground.

"That's the second time you sob." A voice rang out in the spur of the moment. You immediately sit up, looking around just to see Wanda poking her head out of the playhouse. 

You frowned.

"This is my playground." She says, holding her two hands up. 

You stayed silent, gulping at the instant embarrassment to have sobbed in front of somebody. She would surely be on a field trip to gossip about this with her senior friends. This will be the new topic being passed around tomorrow, a crying sad girl who can't get over her daddy.

Wanda unexpectedly sat beside the empty swing, her eyes darting up the sky. "I have been here for hours in case you will think I'm following you around."

A curt laugh escapes your mouth, she whips her head to look at you, a sight to see a laughing tear-stained girl beside her. Wanda repressed the twitching of her mouth. 

"That did not make me feel better."

"I was not trying to make you feel better." She replied instantly, her swing moving forward and back with the control of her two planted feet on the ground.

You let the silence comfort the both of you, let it envelope on whatever the atmosphere settled in. You sigh cautiously, "Knowing you had heard me sob is embarrassing for me."

"Crying is not embarrassing," she immediately answers. "You're human, you are allowed to feel things."

"It is still embarrassing. Out of all the people, it had to be you, who had caught me in such a vulnerable state." Your voice was void from anger or the usual snappiness you had used often with her.

Wanda hums, eyeing you at the corner of her eyes in hopes to not get caught but she can't really resist to not see your face. 

"Am I really that bad?" She asks.

"Yes."

"Ouch." 

You once again laugh at her reply, Wanda couldn't resist anymore as she brazenly stares at you. Her chest slowly thumping at the sounds you are making, she wants to keep it in her pocket and hear it every night before she falls asleep. You intrigued her. Deeply. 

Wanda watches as you suddenly stand up, wincing slightly at the weight you're putting on your feet. She notices the absence of your shoes, she grimaces at the sight. 

Grasping at your wrist, Wanda pulls you down, "Sit." 

Your brows furrowed at her actions, fast rambling harsh notes of your voice ready to spurt out but died once she kneels in front of you. She takes off her boots gingerly, putting it aside while huffing out slightly as she takes a hold of the sides of your foot carefully taking off your dirty socks. 

You move your feet away but she grips it gently, "Don't." She raises an eyebrow at you, her free hand moving swiftly on the pockets of her leather jacket to pull out a band-aid. 

"Is running with no shoes a new trend for geniuses, is that how they pump up their brain cells?" She asks with a hint of playfulness in the timbres of her voice, she easily turns your foot to look at the wound placed at the soles.

Your eyes roll without a tinge of annoyance, "Yes, you have to do it sometimes to pump up your brain cells. Oh, wait. Do you have one?"

Wanda chuckles, "Jesus, I am here kneeling in front of you and you insult me?"

"I didn't tell you to kneel and do whatever this is."

"A thank you will suffice, sweetheart. You don't have to be such a stick-ass."

Setting your injured foot on her knees, Wanda shrugs off the cover of the band-aid and delicately places it on top of the wound, "Stay still."

"Do you always have a band-aid on your pockets?" You ask quietly.

She looks up swiftly, "Yeah, if you have a brother who somehow attracts trouble. You gotta have one." 

You observed her closely, the hunch posture she has just to put on a band-aid on your wounded foot, the furrowing of her eyebrows as she concentrated on placing it accurately and delicately. You let yourself feel her gentle hands, the fingertips of a girl who smokes, has no regard for academic life, who apparently did drugs on the back of the gym. 

The girl who always sat at the farthest back of the room.

You blink as she puts on your dirty socks, her hands wrapping around your foot to push it gently on her worn out black boots. You watch as the hands filled with rings tie the shoelaces securely, you eyed her unprotected feet, only covered by her socks.

"You can give it back tomorrow. I know it's worn out but it will do for the meantime." 

"I don't need this." 

Wanda sighs at your stubborn words, she stands up, pulling herself upwards, hands placed sternly at her chest as she tilts her head at you, "I told you it's not for free, give it back tomorrow." 

Your eyes lingers on her face, she looks away instantly, turning her back at you to walk away, "Bring it back tomorrow." She reminded you once again. 

The light padding of her sock covered feet remains on your eyes, she tucked her hands on the pockets of her leather jacket as you see the way her shoulders hanged lowly.

"Thank you!" You shout suddenly.

Wanda turns her head to give you a grin and completely leaves you alone once again. The presence of the heavy material of her big boots dawdles at your being and the sight of her uncovered feet engraved rightfully on your mind.

The morning after didn't make everything easier for you. You didn't really had the energy to sneak inside your house quietly last night, so you barged in with no regard if your mother was sleeping peacefully with the cursed man. 

In result, you had to listen to her explain what you had seen. That everything is just fine, they are not back together. 

"Your father just wanted to apologize." That was your mother's words, her hands placed gently on your cheeks as she frowns at your quiet reply. You didn't talk to her after that, trudging your tired body and slept heavily in the comforts of your bed.

The morning is definitely not the best for your death-driven body. The loud voices of the high schoolers did not help calm down the raging migraine you had, your eyes are dry and are throbbing in the most uncomfortable way you had experienced. Your backpack is heavy, reminding you of the boots shoved inside of it, and making you replay the delicate interaction you had with the brown-haired girl. 

"Are you okay?" Peter's voice grounds you in reality, you knock your forehead hardly on your locker.

"I am dying." You muttered, eyes closed as you tried to fade out the voices of the students.

"We can go to the infirmary if you'd like," He suggested. "Your mom called last night, asking where you were." 

Your posture straightened at the mention of your mom, you eyed him. 

"I told her I didn't know because I really didn't. But she was crying and that made me panic so I started looking for you and in distress I almost got knocked out by a car." He rambles hastily.

Your chest thumps at the chain of events he's sharing, "You almost got hit by a car?"

He waves his hands dismissively, "Almost. So it never happened. What I'm saying is, Wanda almost hit me with her car, or I don't know. Is she supposed to be driving? Is that legal?"

"Wanda? What's she got to do with this?" You said defensively, shoulders tensing at the sudden mention of the girl. The weight of your backpack weighs heavily on your being. 

"Well, she definitely noticed the distress I had at the possibility of you running away but I knew you would never do that. She volunteered to help me look for you and I don't know, late at night she called my home landline and said you're safe back home." Peter says, he looks concerned as he reminisces about the events that happened last night. 

"Where are you going?" He shouts, gaping at the sudden motions of your fleeing body. 

Ignoring him, you focused on leading yourself in the classroom you shared with her. Standing beside her oblivious sitting figure, you dump your back pack loudly on top of her desk.

Wanda jumps at the sound it made, she looks up to eye you confusedly. 

"You can take your boots." You grits, aggressively opening your backpack to laid out her worn out boots on her desk. 

"Well, you're welcome." She says confusedly, straightening her back to look at you carefully. 

"I don't need your help, Wanda. I don't know what tricks you have in your leather jacket but please, don't use my vulnerability or the vulnerability of my friend just to get into my pants." 

Wanda furrows her brows, "Not everything is about getting into your pants, Y/N."

"Then is everything not about drugs to you?" You retort back, glaring at her. 

The chair almost fell at her sudden posture, it hiss loudly at the sudden quiet of the classroom as she stood up. Looking down at you with indescribable eyes, "I was just trying to help."

"I don't need your help."

"I don't care if you see yourself as a God or something but you don't get to be an asshole just because you're not accustomed to getting help from people. And I don't fucking do drugs." With that she pushes you gently to make her way out of the door. 

You stood quietly beside her desk, the boots taunting you loudly with its appearance. 

That was two weeks ago. The complete turn around of you and Wanda's interaction was something you should analyse for better comprehension of what has happened. The girl no longer stares at you, you can no longer feel her heavy eyes at the back of your head. 

It shouldn't phase you, but it did. 

It bothered you how she looks solemn at the hallways, how she stares at everything but you. And the current shenanigans of high school are not helping you with your strange predicament. 

"You're the top of the class, Y/N. You are the top of everything. You can do it." Peter trails behind you, his voice has been pleading for the past minutes. 

"I am not gonna tutor Maximoff. She asked you, not me. And I don't care if you suddenly got balls and asked MJ out for a date but I don't care. Either the date or tutor." You reasoned out once again.

Peter has been begging you to take his place for tutoring. He said Wanda asked him for it and he has been helping her with studying for the past days, he said the girl wanted to graduate and she can't if she'll fail for the last exams of the school year. 

You vaguely remember replying to Peter's explanation of his situation. "She wanted to graduate, she should've been more careful for the past years and not be a fucking delinquent." 

And now, Peter wants you to take this one day of tutoring for Wanda because he has a date with his long-time crush. If you didn't feel guilty at your sudden outburst at the older girl, you would've taken his request with no questions asked. But, you do. So, Peter can suck it up or completely cut off whatever friendship he had with you. 

"Please, I'll do anything for you." He begged, clutching the straps of his backpack tightly.

"What can you possibly do for me."

"I'll spread the information that you're not a virgin?" 

You gave him a look, "That would help me? Fuck off, then." 

Peter sputters behind you, running to chase your fast feet. "Help me or I'll tell your mom Wanda helped look for you that night and she will do her gratitude routine of cooking and asking you to bring her so she can thank her and have dinner and—"

"Okay, fine!" You cut him off, glaring at the sheepish smile he has, "Just this once."

That's how you found yourself at Wanda's front door, books clutching tightly on your chest as you await for her to open the door.

Her house looks smaller compared to yours, it is also situated in a known neighbourhood, the neighbourhood of which the parents used to scare off their children. It was a weird stereotype, definitely harmful for the people who reside in it, but it helped them discipline the itchy travelling feet of kids. 

The front door let out a loud sound as it was yanked heavily from the other side. Wanda stands still on her doorway, her messy long hair cascades itself down on her shoulders, the oversized black sweater she wore suddenly felt heavy on your intense gaze at her figure. 

You suddenly realized, you have never seen Wanda with her hair down. 

"What are you doing here?" She asks.

"To tutor you." You replied dismissively, raising an eyebrow at her scowling face. 

"Peter is the one helping me." 

"Well, sucks for you, sweetheart. Peter has a date and he asked me to do this." You impatiently tap your foot at her wooden porch, Wanda's face colored at your words, furrowing her eyebrow deeply. 

"Are you gonna let me in or are you gonna keep scowling at me for the rest of the day?" 

Licking the bottom of her lips, Wanda pursed her mouth as she opened the door wide for you to let in.

Wanda led you quietly to her bedroom, you eyed the frames placed on their walls as you finally set your sights on her room. Her room was something you had not thought of, it was neat and decorated nicely. She had posters of different bands plastered on her wall, a shelf filled with old books, a desk organized tidily.

"What, you think I have a messy room?" She mutters. "Me and Peter usually do the studying on the floor but if you're allergic to that, my desk will do but it's small so I don't know what you prefer."

You gaze at her, "Floor then. So, if my allergies act up and I die, it's your fault." You plop gracefully down at her floor, your back pressed tightly on the side of her bed. 

She stood awkwardly in front of you, "Um, do you want something to drink?"

"No, let's start with physics." Wanda sighs tiredly, sitting cross-legged beside you as she leans into the notes you had written. 

Time steadily passes by with you explaining the different formulas used in physics. Wanda quietly listens to your voice, the hardness of it, the tinge of sassiness that eased her to lean in closer in hopes to hear it loudly. 

She snapped herself awake when you glared at her. She repressed a smile at the endearing sight you have given her. 

"I am really impressed, you and Peter are a year younger than me and yet, you both know these lessons being taught to seniors." Wanda comments, her eyes downcasted to the notebook she situated on her lap.

"That's called studying." You replied, crossing your legs comfortably. Wanda's eyes flickers on your movements, lingering on the foot being tucked under your thigh. 

"Is your foot okay?" She suddenly questions, eyes still focused on the problem you had invented for her to solve. 

You froze at her words, darting your vision out of her form, you bit your cheek too harshly, "Yes." 

Then you suddenly blurted the words, "I'm sorry." 

Wanda's eyes focuses on you, her knees straightened out as she lets down her pen beside her thighs. "What for?" 

"For being an asshole, the words I lashed out were," you grimace, "Bad and I'm being a prick."

"It's fine," She draws out the words like she's contemplating at the next combination of syllables she's about to make, "I– nevermind. It's okay." 

She smiles. 

You nod at her, your sights focused on the clutter of notebooks and books in front of you. The all too familiar boots sits steadily on the side of her cabinet, your brows furrowed as your eye stayed on the object. 

"Just so you know, I appreciate it deeply," your voice wavers, you tried to glance at her but your eyes stayed frozen on the ground.

Wanda clears her throat, gaining your attention back to her, she tilts her head, "Uh– you're welcome?"

"The boots, I mean. And for looking for me, even though we're not that even close. I deeply apologize again, I know not everyone wants to get into my pants." 

Wanda's lips twitches in a wide grin, "Apology accepted, no need to feel bad about it."

And then for the first time, you looked fully right at her face. The greenest shade of green pools at her eyes, the usual blackened make-up she wore daily is nowhere to be seen, giving you the barest face of a Wanda Maximoff. She's pretty. And that made you snapped out of your thoughts. 

Furrowing, you forced a smile, "Great! You got the hang of physics. Good job, by the way,"

Wanda's ears colored, she nods wildly. 

"But I have to go, Peter can continue where we left off. I can't really stay late."

"Let me drive you–" Wanda quickly gets on her feet, her eyes darting everywhere as she looks for her shoes tucked in the corner of her room.

"It's fine!" you quickly replied, shoving whatever your hands could get as fast as you can. Finally finished the task, you quickly walk towards her door, a frantic Wanda trailing behind you as she stumbles into the side of her door.

"Shit, fuc— Y/N, hey!" you look back to gaze at her. Wanda heaves out, "Will it be too much to ask you to tutor me instead?"

Your brows furrowed, "In your dreams, Maximoff." 

That was weird. Everything is weird after that with Wanda or maybe it's just you and your strange erupting feeling for the older girl. This can't be happening, you told yourself that a hundred times. 

"Y/N, I got you something. It's for tutoring Wanda." Peter's distracted voice as he rummages at his backpack made you raised an eyebrow at the boy.

"And you thought of giving me a gift a week after that?"

Peter sighs, "Hey, I have to think thoroughly about what I give you. You are one hell of a picker," he pushes off a small box across the table, a grin plastered on his face.

"What is this?"

"It's a bracelet," you could practically feel the bouncing of his knees, "Open it, Wanda made it."

That made you snap your head at him, your eyes pierced. Peter backtracks at your stare, his eyes darting anywhere as he tries to make up of your indescribable expression.

"Wanda made it? Why would she?"

"Well, she kind of the one suggested it along with some of my inputs," the whisper tone the boy used made you glare at him, he sputters, "Okay, okay! she was the one who suggested it, you know. Asked me if i have given you something for tutoring her, and I was like we never give each other gifts for doing favors and then she was defending it like—"

"You can stop now, your voice is getting an octave higher the seconds passes by." you monotonely said, the calculated calmness your voice emits contradicts the hard thump your heart made over Peter's words. 

Why is she making this confusing for you?

What are you even confused about?

"Y/N, I didn't know you volunteered for the student council," the familiar low tone of a voice made you freeze, your posture straightened at the sudden presence of Wanda Maximoff.

The banners you are currently holding crumpled helplessly under your grasp, placing a practiced emotionless face, you turned around to face her, "I should be the one saying that. Since when are you a volunteer here?" 

Wanda's grin widens at seeing your face fully, the corners of her eyes crinkled, "Since now." and a bashful smile comes next, "Do you need help with the banners? I'll help you." 

Before you could protest, she's already leaning towards you, taking the crumpled banners out of your hand as you felt the delicate warmth of her fingertips. Wanda's eyes though stopped completely at the sight of a bracelet steadily situated at your wrist, her face turns red as she quickly looks away.

Clearing her throat, she mutters, "Your bracelet looks nice."

Your eyes rolled, "Oh please, you're the one who made it."

Wanda sputters completely, the light redness of her face turns into a shade darker, "Did Peter tell you?"

"Peter always tell. That boy can't hold off his tongue." you turned your back at her, hair whipping everywhere as you crouch to take the pair of scissors laying on the ground. Continuing the task of cutting the banners for the upcoming school festival, you situated yourself at the steps of the stage of your school's gymnasium. 

Students are scattered everywhere, with each assigned tasks, they made the chatters moderate with casual shoutings and errands being asked by the officers. You let Wanda follow you, her presence prickling the side of your body. 

"Aren't you gonna help?"

"I am helping." she says, taking the scissors out of your hand and smiling, "See? helping."

"Look, Wanda. I don't know what your deal is, but you have to stop."

That made the older girl freeze, her green eyes gazing at you, "My deal? I'm just volunteering, Y/N."

"You can volunteer at different places, the gymnasium is big, and aren't you like I don't know, good at bullshiting shit? The Creative committee needed someone to think of something, do that." you yank the scissors back, giving her an eyebrow raised. 

Wanda stayed, a grin making her way into her face as your face fell. 

"Was that a compliment?"

"Please, fuck off."

Fucking off was something Wanda is not good at, in fact, she's allergic to that. You don't know what she wants or what her deal is but she seems to have a way to be with you. Be it with the volunteering excuses, the gymnasium is big and yet she manages to stay right beside you, a scissor in hand as she grins asking for your guidance on what to do with the banners, when you just exasperatedly explained to her how to cut the banners days ago. 

Aside from the volunteering shenanigans, she completely abandons the usual seat she always takes at the back of the room, moving a few seats in front just to sit right beside you. You clutched the ballpen in your hand too hard that day, almost snapping it in half. 

It made your blood boil.

She makes excuses, petty ones, to get close to you. She even told her jock friend to hit her in the face so she could go to the infirmary just to be your patient as you are volunteering at your school's clinic. 

Watching the small swelling at the side of her face as she greets you happily, you only gave her a glare, wishing for her to vanish. But of course, you can't do that. You asked to be a volunteer, you made yourself do this. 

"It hurts here." she says, pointing at her face.

You ignored her, rummaging in the cabinet to take an ointment, your voice drawls out, "Keep your head elevated."

Straightening her posture, Wanda replies, "Yes, ma'am." you can hear the grin in her tone, the tinge of joy swaying at the timbres of her voice. You grasp the ice pack a little too tight. 

Standing in front of her, you leaned down to her sitting posture on the edge of the bed. Faces inches away from each other, you didn't notice the hitch of Wanda's breath as your face came closer. 

She pulls her head back, you glared at her, "What the fuck, I need to see." you gritted. 

Grasping her chin between your thumbs to turn her head and leaned in closer. You're so focused on observing the swelling that you didn't see the gulping of Wanda's throat. 

Wanda prays for the very first time at that moment.

Because the beating of her heart was so loud, she felt it thrumming painfully on her chest as your thumb burns at the skin of her chin, and the breaths you let out made her want to scream. She prays for whoever is above to please don't make the sounds of her beating heart too loud.

It was worth it. Wanda told herself that day, to get hit by a ball at the side of her face, it was all worth it. She finally got your face close to her, she could finally have the image of you leaning closer to her.

It was all worth it.

"Was it all worth it?" Peter asks, his cheeks stuffed with the burger he had brought at the cafeteria.

It was a tuesday. Three days after Wanda pulled that little stunt of visiting you in the clinic. After gently tapping the ointment in her skin and instructing her to place the ice pack directly at her bruised face, Wanda left the premises with a red face and dilated pupils. 

Her mannerisms were strange, and the growing tinge of red from her neck up to her face made you think twice if you should have given her a thermometer rather than an ice pack. Everything is strange about Wanda and your finger can't seem to point at what it is.

"Worth it of what?" you asked, eyes focused on the book you are reading, expertly weaving through the crowded place despite your eyes not on the busy, dangerous hallways of high school. 

"The volunteering. Festival is in a week or two. I heard there will be a dance."

"I don't think there's a dance."

Peter shrugs, "Wanda told me there is a dance so.."

Your head whips so fast, "Why would she know anything about the council's plan for the festival?" 

The boy hides a knowing smirk, seeing his love allergic friend so interested in a girl, "She's in the Creatives committee, did she not inform you?"

That made you frown, "Why would she inform me?"

"Well, I don't know. Every time my head turns she's always lurking close to you, it's weird she's not here."

It is weird. 

But you pay no attention to it. Wanda Maximoff's sudden absence in your surroundings shouldn't take up a space in your mind but it did and it made you angry how a delinquent girl made you waste an ounce of energy thinking about her weird disappearance. 

It was not even a long disappearance, because an hour after the walk with Peter in the hallways, Wanda peaks her head at the door of your assigned classroom for a certain club meeting. Taking long strides as she clutches her bag too tightly, Wanda nervously sits beside you. 

Ignoring her taunting presence completely, you heard her clearing her throat as she tapped your hand gently. Furrowing, your eyes follow the movement of her hand. 

Wanda glides a single rose onto your desk, the hard nibbling of her bottom lip made her taste some coppery taste of her blood.

"What is this?" you ask.

"A rose." 

Your eyes rolled, pushing the rose away. Wanda's face fell, scrambling to explain her action well, she took a hold of your hand, "I'm asking you for the festival dance."

Your eyes lingered on her hand, she noticed your gaze. Yanking her hand away from your warm ones, Wanda gives out a nervous smile, "Will you go with me to the dance?"

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to." she quickly answers.

The scrapping of the chair onto the ground resonates throughout the room. Without a second thought, you stood up. Your face is cold, "No." 

"Y/N, I like y–"

Not taking a single care about the meeting that is about to begin and the whiplashing words of Wanda's, you have found yourself walking away. 

This is what you have hated. Gestures of love, intimate touches, stares, the blunt efforts to be with you. How can you be so blind to her advances? You should have avoided it earlier than you have noticed and yet you let her, because somewhere along the deep hate you have for romance and love– Wanda made you rethink your perception about what you have ground yourself into. 

That love is not real and it will never be.

And you are fuming every minute her face flashes right at your mind. The perfect fall of her face as you have muttered the single word no. That one word seems like the only key to shatter one's world, especially Wanda's.

After her failed confession that you have clearly heard despite it being rushed and expontenous, you have avoided her at all cost. Getting a glance at a leather jacket? Turn around and move. Receiving a sudden whiff of vanilla scented perfume? Go to the other side of the campus. Easy as that. 

No, scratch that. 

If it was easy, why are you being cornered by a girl with a leather jacket and an all too familiar vanilla scent?

"Why are you avoiding me?" Wanda's pleading voice made you peer up into her glazing eyes.

"I'm not avoiding you."

"Bullshit. You are avoiding me."

You smiled, "Good job, seems like you got the gist of it then," your hand reaches onto her shoulders to push her away but she stayed planted, leaning even more so closer to your furrowed face. 

"Y/N, you don't have to avoid me just because you rejected me to be my date on the dance. I take rejections very well." she says, her eyes searching for something in your cold ones. 

"Well, I don't," you said, your voice hardening at every word that is about to be said, "I don't like associating myself with people who want to get into my pants."

"Y/N, I told you. I am not–"

"Especially you." 

With that, Wanda lets her hands fall slack into her sides, letting you have the chance to finally escape and run away once again. 

Your back turns, finally about to walk away when a grip latches into your wrist, spinning you around. And in a blur of a moment, Wanda's soft lips crashes into yours. Your thoughts plays a continuous blaring sounds, an alarm is everywhere in your mind. 

Maybe it was the panic of what is happening or a defense mechanism on your part or maybe just your desire but you have kissed Wanda back. Your lips fitting perfectly at hers, dancing a delicate sway as Wanda sighs and forces herself to bite back whatever whimper is about to let out of her mouth. The feel of your lips, the taste of it, you kissing her back. It was all too real for Wanda.

When your back touches the wall with how Wanda's weight is leaning into you closer and closer, you snap back. Shoving her away instantly, your face glowered in shame.

"You take rejections very well yet you forced yourself on me." your voice betrays you as it wavers significantly.

Wanda catches her breath, the hazy look surrounds her features, her eyes are dazed as she tries to understand what you are saying.

"You kissed me back." she declares, eyes unfocused.

"I was in the heat of the moment, it does not mean anything to m–"

"You kissed me back."

Your mouth tight shut, chest heaving, your eyes focused on Wanda's piercing ones. She's looking at you like you hung the moon and stars, she blinks, trying to calm her wild beating heart. 

You shouldn't be doing this. You shouldn't be kissing people and have your heart beat crazily for them. 

"It was a mis–"

"Please, don't say that," Wanda pleaded, her eyes searching desperately in your hardened ones. "Don't say that. I will cry right here in front of you. Don't you dare say that, Y/N." 

"What? You want me to lie? Is that what you want?" your voice holds icy-cold, Wanda's eyes fall at your words.

You take in her silence as a sign that she has finally given up, clutching the sudden opportunity to flee away from her. Your back turns once again, without looking back, your steps are brisk as you walk away, not without hearing the sounds of approaching steps. 

Sighing as your eyes fell upon Wanda's firm stance in front of you. She blocks your opportunity to run away. 

"Y/N, I will treat you right. Just give me a chance."

"Why are you this desperate?"

Wanda staggers at your words, "Why are you a coward?"

That made you snap your eyes at her, your usual glare finally appearing in your face, "Coward?"

"Yes!" she exasperatedly shouts, her brows are furrowing so deeply, you want to reach out and soothe it completely but your mind holds you back tightly. "You fear love, you are a coward. Love will not kill you, Y/N. I can show you, let me show you." 

With brave steps, Wanda reaches out and clasp your hands into hers, she eyes you, pleading for you to see her fully, "I am not like them. I really like you, let me show you how serious I am, please. Just give me a chance if you feel like I'm not genuine enough then we can stop. Just give me a chance."

You took in her words, you followed it. You watched her fully, staring at her sincere eyes, the heavy movements of her chest as she desperately tried to hold your stare. Her blazing eyes as it plays dangerously in the borders of crying or brawling out, you took her image thoroughly. 

Then you succumb fully at her request. 

To give her a chance.

You hide behind the reason of knowing she will never give up unless you give in, when in reality you wanted to test out if she's real, you badly want her to show you that you are wrong. That love is real and that you can experience it with her. 

You didn’t say yes but you didn’t say no either, you just say, “I don’t do chances.”

Wanda, the ever-loving witty Wanda didn’t argue, she just smiled, chest heaving out, the corners of her mouth tugging, soft and small, like she won something.

"Here," Wanda softly mutters, sliding in a tray full of all too familiar food.

You gaze at her, eyebrows raising in a mix of surprise and suspicion, but mainly suspicion, “What, you decided to poison me now after your love confe—” the words died down as the scent hits you fast before the sight does. 

A soft delicious aroma fills in one of your senses, it rises into the air and fills in right at your stomach. Buttery, savory, a touch of rosemary, and the growling of betrayal from your stomach. This is just a day after the kiss happened, after you begrudgingly accepted her proposal of giving her a chance. You didn't know giving Wanda a chance would mean having your own chef.

You're not complaining though as the scent does not disappoint as well as the sight. On the tray sits a plate of creamy mashed potato beside it is a plate of garlic butter chicken, its color shines golden brown which reminds you of the sun setting in, the edges crispsed just right, and you just know the flavors will melt right at your tongue. 

Then a question surfaces, “You cooked this at the school cafeteria?”

Wanda’s eyes shines in mischief, she shrugs, “I have my ways.”

“Tell me.” it's an order.

Wanda could never ignore an order, “Well, I cooked it at home and asked to reheat it at the cafeteria and make it visually attractive for you to see and of course eat.” she sheepishly muttered.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

You stare at the tray for too long, Wanda’s eyes gazes at you heavily, and with a sigh your hand picks up the fork, “This doesn't mean anything.”

“I didn’t say it did.”

Your hand hovers above the food, hesitating, and after a while you give in. The first bite is warm and smooth right at your tongue, the taste is just like what you imagined upon seeing the food, its grounding in a way that makes you feel too exposed. It’s more than a food, it's a food cooked by Wanda, it's intentional. 

You chew slowly, pretending not to feel and swallowing what would taste like love. 

“We need rules.”

Wanda tilts her head, “Rules? Shoot.”

“If we are… whatever this—” your hand points between your chest and hers “—is now, there needs to be a rule.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow, her face surrounds seriousness, feigning seriousness, “That’s easy, lay them on me. I solemnly swear to try and almost abide all rules and laws that would satisfy the girl of my dreams.”

Your eyes narrowed, “I’m serious.”

Wanda straightens her posture and holds up her two fingers adorned with rings like she is being sworn into court, “Scout’s honor.” 

You cleared your throat, eyes narrowed at her figure as you say, “No talking about the future.”

Wanda nods thoughtfully, “No talking witchcraft futures, just the chaos of the present. Got it.”

You ignored her, “No pet names, that thing makes me want to run.”

She hums, “So, no more “sweetheart” or “babycakes”? maybe we can change that rule—”

Your eyes answers with a glare.

She gave out a wide smile, hands up in a surrendering manner, “Okay okay. No pet names, not even ironically.”

“And no touching me unless I touch you first.”

You saw something shift on Wanda, not disappointment, maybe a tinge of it, but something purely a clench of restraint. You saw how her eyes drop down to your hands and back right on your face. 

“That’s gonna be torture, swee–” a look was given, she clears her throat. “That's gonna be torture, but fine. Your body, your rules. But it is kind of unfair if I may say.”

Your eyes roll as your mouth forms a disapproving sound, “What now?”

“You can touch me but I can’t touch you. How will I make sure you’re not bending the rules to your advantage?” Wanda tilts her head, the corners of her corner twitches at the sight of your increasing tinge of red cheeks.

“Fine. Before touching, ask first.” 

“Can I hold your hand?”

“No.”

The words stop and quiet stills in between you and Wanda. As the silence places itself comfortably in your surroundings, you continue to chew, thinking, and hating how warm the food makes you feel. 

“And don’t fall in love with me,” you say before you can stop yourself.

“I think it’s too late for that.”

You don’t respond.

You just eat.

The hallway is loud in late-afternoon, after classes kind of way, students loud gossiping, their chats ringing in and out of your ears, the lockers slamming as well as the books being hit off the metallic lockers, sneakers squeaking on the floor, someone’s playlist leaking too loud out of their headphones. You weave through it all, face pasted down a book, like a soldier at ease weaving through all the landmines. 

You haven’t seen Wanda all day.

Well— you have seen her. Just flashes of her actually, first, she was there early in the morning outside your home. 

“I’m driving you to school.” that’s what she planned out.

“Do you even have a license?” you retort, already walking away.

She jumps, pushes herself away from her car as she staggers to catch up to your quick footsteps, “I do, I have license.”

“Congratulations.” you said as you stepped foot at the bus, giving her a wave.

Second, you saw her waiting for you to finish your biology class. You walk towards her, eyes narrowed as you see how she’s practically bouncing on her steps.

When her eyes met yours, she gave you a wide smile that made your heart a tiny stumble. 

“I will be busy with the creative committee, I don’t think I can eat lunch with you.” she apologetically stated, then she handed out a paper bag, “Here, your lunch.”

“I have lunch.”

“Of course you have,” she waves the paper bag, “—lunch?”

So, you did seen her, well– that was the last you have seen her, at around nine-thirty eight in the morning, not that you’re noting the time of your last conversation but you have seen the flashes of her leather jacket in the committee’s office, her laughter echoing as you walk by it, and the glimpse of her hair catching the sunlight in a way that makes your stomach feel stupid.

When did this started again?

Oh, you know very well. It started with the lunches.

Each day, as sure as the sun rises, there’s a lunchbox waiting or a tray full of food being shoved right at your face. The food is always consistently your favorite food, and everyday you don’t know how she knows. Sometimes it’s leftovers Wanda prepared at home, and when it’s not lunch she gives you something store bought, sometimes a snack with a juicebox, or a sandwich which you have taken note of the intricately sliced diagonal line and a sticky note which reads something stupid like: “Eat or perish, your choice.”

You never asked for them, she just never makes a big deal of giving them. She simply leaves them on your usual spot at the library or hands them to you quietly, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

And then there are the rides.

She begins appearing in front of your house ten minutes before your alarm goes off. No pressure, no warning, she’s just standing next to her beat-up car with headphones on, arms crossed like she's not in a hurry at all. 

She never questions why you're always ready, even though you pretend otherwise, with eyes narrowed and eyebrows raised.

And after school, she waits. Keys spinning in her fingers, window rolled down.

"Need a ride?"

Every time.

During breaks, she escorts you to class.

That’s where you learned she’s a talker, asking “How was Mr. Finch?” and giving a side comment of, “He’s giving constipated scarecrow energy.” or yapping the most randomest topic you could ever encounter, “Who decided ghost can walk through walls but can’t fall through the floor? Who decided which solid is solid?” 

You nod, hummed, shrug, not in that order, but that mixture of replies was what you have given Wanda throughout her ted talk sessions.

You find her once during one of your volunteer hours at the animal shelter. She's sitting on the curb, de-linting her fishnets, her brown hair sitting prettily with her usual ponytail, you could see the structure of the bridge of her nose, the sunset’s orange hue cascading down her frame magnificently.

You blink, "What are you doing here?"

She shrugs, "Didn't want you to be alone with a hundred cats."

"You're allergic.”

She shrugs once more, a hint of smile playing at her lips, "Worth it."

You feign not to smile and she smirks like she knows you did.

Even when you're quiet, she's there, even when you're freezing, she stays and even when you attempt to keep your walls up and your emotions in check, she's always appearing like loving you isn't something she fears, like loving you is a choice she made and intends to continue making, firmly, both feet planted on the ground.

It doesn't make you any less scared, it just makes it more and more difficult to turn away.

You’re rounding up the science wing when Peter falls into a step beside you like he’s been waiting all day to catch a conversation with you.

“Sooo..” He draws out, dragging the word as he pops a chip, “I heard you and Wanda are, like.. a thing or I dunno… A thing now.”

Your steps didn’t stop, you just gave him a look.

“Where’d you hear that?”

Peter grins in a way that annoys you, he elbows you gently, “....From Wanda.”

That slows you down. He notices it,  "She didn't quite say it, but she smiled after someone asked. Which is effectively an admission of some sort."

“She’s impossible,” you mumble.

Peter chuckles, “Sounds like love to me.”

You groan, “Sounds like hell.”

He taps you the chips he’s lovingly eating like a peace offering, “Same thing sometimes.”

“Are you really together?” He asks once again.

You groan, “Peter.”

“What? She brings you lunch every day. That's, like, marriage in cafeteria terms.” 

Your voice stilled, mind racing with no words to say. What are you supposed to feel about that? Being with Wanda these days feels nice, hell, it feels nicer than you ever felt in your entire life, but at the back of your mind, in the deeper innermost corner of your mind, a looming black shadow taunts you on what you feel, on this new profound happiness you feel with her.

Peter notices it, he empties the last of his chips, squashing the bag with a sharp crackle and then shooting it into the bin with a neat flick.

"You should go talk to her," he advises, rubbing his hands together. "She seemed kinda. I don't know. Hopeful today."

You push your hoodie sleeves up over your hands, fingers folding into the fabric. "She shouldn't be."

Peter turns his head, scowling. "Dude."

You don't look at him. "I didn't request her to bring me a meal every day. I didn't request her to stand outside my class or drive me home or take care of me."

Peter's stride slows. "Yeah," he says, softer now, "but you didn't tell her to stop either."

You don't say anything. Your fingers brush against your palms, nails hitting, gliding through the outermost layer of your skin.

"I'm just saying," he goes on, his tone softer now, "you keep doing this thing like she bulldozed her way in, like this wasn't something you allowed to happen."

You press your lips together. The hallway is silent, the muffled murmur of classrooms mixing with the buzz of ancient lights above is now dwindling down.

"You're gonna lose her."

That's the last he says before cutting off into the stairwell, his words lingering behind like a shadow that sticks with you.

You exhale, poised to shrug it off and make the turn towards your locker—when you freeze.

Wanda's standing there. Wanda.

She's standing a few feet in front, around the corner, half-concealed behind a trophy case. Her arms are crossed tightly, jaw set hard, eyes darker than normal. Her hair's a bit disheveled like she's just been running a hand through it, and there's a shake in her fingers that she's trying hard to suppress. And a thought passes by your mind, you badly want to hold her shaking hands.

She heard.

She heard it all.

When she spoke, the timbres of her voice was not the usual tone she always uses at you, her voice is level, too level and it slices like ice.

"You didn't ask me to care, huh?"

Your stomach falls, "Wanda—"

She takes one step forward. "It's okay. I understand now. Thanks for reminding me."

"No, that's not—"

"Don't," she cuts in, harder now, halting you in mid-sentence, "Don't do the thing where you act like this meant nothing to you."

You shake your head. "That's not fair—

"What's not fair is how I've been appearing day in and day out like a fool, like I'm needed," she bites. "Taking you lunch, standing by after class, driving you home—hoping, always hoping and you just stand there and pretend it's a bother."

Her voice cracks a little, and it hollows you out completely. 

"You think I didn't see the way you pause when people notice us? Like I'm a rumor you don't want to confirm?"

Your voice bursts out before you can catch yourself, "Because I don't know what this is!"

Wanda gazes at you as if she can't believe you've just spoken and then you utter it, the thing that kills what's left between you and her.

"I never asked for this."

The quiet that follows stings the both of you.

She laughs once, an empty sound. "God. You really don't get it."

"Wanda—"

“No," she says, voice shaking now, hanging together by threads. "You didn't ask but you let me in. You let me fall in love with you and the worst of it?" she blinks rapidly, jaw clenching. "I'd do it all over again. All of it. Even today, if you'd just try."

You open your mouth but no words come out.

"But I'm done begging someone to notice me when I've already given them everything.

She spins, disappearing in swift, purposeful strides. You saw how the sway of her hair disappearing before your eyes or how a paper bag is tossed right where she stands. A lump forms right at your throat as you let her walk away, kneeling to grasp the all too paper bag, clutching the remnants of what could've been or what should’ve been.

Then the hallway is a thousand miles long, filled with the echo of everything you may have just lost.

　　 　　˚ 　　. ✧ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ﹒ ◠ ✩ ⊹ ﹒ ✧. ★ ˚

The gymnasium reeks of hairspray and the mixture of different perfumes.

There's glitter stuck in the creases of the basketball court, the sort that sticks stubbornly to every surface like memories that refuse to be let go. String lights hang from the ceiling like vines of imprisoned starlight, and plastic stars hang in crooked rows, catching the stray gleam like they're effortfully attempting to be constellations. The disco ball makes slow, hypnotic revolutions, sending slivers of silver light onto the walls, floor, faces of too-hungry teenagers hugging one another in a painfully awkward slow dances.

The music being played is something soft and old-fashioned— you know this song, the all too familiar strumming of the guitar as the first words kiss me plays out. It’s a song that's a bit too mushy, the sort that swells at the exact moment someone makes some grandly romantic move in an older VHS film.

You never intended to attend the dance.

Not after the fight, not after the words you spoke that you didn't mean, or possibly did, at the time, because you were frightened and in pain and didn't know how to say any of it correctly.

Standing just inside the door, the buzzing gym lights overhead, pulse racing in your chest as if it's ticking down to something. You're not wearing like anybody else here, you’re not wearing something grand like them. It’s just a simple dress you found hidden underneath the pile of clothes you hid in your closet. You adjust your sleeves, standing awkwardly in your half-dress-up attempt at trying. Your gaze skitters around the room, searching for something—someone—and catching only fleeting glimpses of color, motion, and sound.

And then you see her.

Wanda.

She’s standing near the bleachers, half in shadow, half in the light that filters down from the swaying fairy lights above. Her arms are crossed, her head slightly tilted like she’s not sure why she came either. But she’s here and God, she looks like she belongs in every poem you’ve never dared to write.

Her dress is black velvet, hugging soft and respectful to her body, classy but subtle. Off-shoulder sleeves graze the underside of her collarbones, and her skin shines under the golden string lights. Her hair is curled tonight—not flamboyantly, just enough that a few strands frame her face as if they were naturally supposed to fall there. She is heartbreakingly gorgeous. 

She doesn't see you yet. 

So you approach—slow, reluctant, as if each step might send the moment fleeing. The people around you seem to part to make room, or perhaps you're not noticing anything else, just her. The rest of the world blurs into a gentle vignette, the music recedes into the background like a soundtrack created specifically for this moment.

When Wanda finally lifts her gaze, her eyes meet yours and it feels like gravity shifts.

Your breath freezes, her lips part, ever so slightly. Her brows rise in something akin to surprise, or hope, or disbelief.

You linger a few steps back.

"Hey," you whisper, your voice almost drowned out by the music. It's a delicate gesture, a start.

Wanda blinks, as if she's checking to see if this is real. Her speaking voice, when she does, is so soft it barely makes it to you. "You came."

You nod once, fingers jammed into your pockets like they might hold you together. "I wasn't going to."

She regards you warily, her face is not readable. You push on anyway, ignoring the loud thumping of beats in your head and in your chest.

"But I couldn't stop thinking about you."

That's when her arms relax, arms cascading down the sides of her body like the wall she's been pushing against wavers, uncertain.

"I was afraid," you admit with a hammering heart, "–still am. But the thing is— I missed you. I miss the way you make everything seem a little less loud, a little less like the world's too much." you swallow, "Even when I didn't know what to name it. Even when I screwed it all up.”

Wanda gazes down, eyelashes shadowing her cheeks. Her fingers wrap around her elbow as if it's the sole anchor holding her all together.

"You hurt me," she whispers, quiet but keen as a blade.

"I know," you breathe. "And I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—God, I didn't mean to. I just–I don't know how to do this but I want to learn, I want to try, with you."

And then nothing.

Wanda doesn't speak.

She merely gazes at you, and the entire world shifts on its side. The music diminishes to a muffled thud in the distance as if someone had cranked down the level on all sounds except your pulse. You swear that the air grows dense.

She's standing so motionless, too motionless, eyes on you but unreadable, lips parted a fraction like perhaps she's going to speak, maybe not. You can't tell, her face is an aggregate of all the emotions she's ever attempted to conceal.

And then she laughs—soft and wheezy and near-disbelieving, her eyes glint with something like exasperation and love.

"You're actually doing this now?" she asks, "Right in the middle of the gym? Like we're starring in some corny '90s high school movie?"

You shrug, smiling with a helpless sort of optimism, "Thought if I was gonna be cheesy, I might as well go rouge with it."

You extend your hand, your fingers slightly shaking, "Dance with me?"

She looks at it, her mouth clenched. You sense the weight of the ask between you—this is it, the turning point, the decision.

And then—slowly, quietly, Wanda eases her fingers into yours.

You pull her close, cautious like she might change her mind, but she doesn't pull away. Her hands find your shoulders, yours rest against her waist. Her touch is warm, familiar. A shock of relief floods your chest.

The music reverbates—something slow and aching, a little dramatic, just enough to feel like a moment you’ll never forget.

You sway, under the spinning haze of the disco ball, under the twinkle of plastic stars and strings, under the crush of all things unspoken, finally having room to breathe.

You move in, your forehead knocking against hers.

"I still don't know what we are," you whisper.

Her lips curve into a smile, "Then let's make it up as we go."

It happens slowly, you see how she moves in and you see how her eyes flicker down your lips, just for a second, and somehow it made the world shift beneath your feet, as if gravity begins to pull in a different direction, and you find yourself leaning towards her.

Her breath is warm and it's the softest collision when both of your lips touched. The kiss is soft, slow, gentle. The kind that makes the air feel sweeter, like the end of a storm, like the start of something better. It’s like the last tugging of a thread you meticulously tied, it unraveled everything, the high walls you build came crumbling down with every second your mouth moves against hers.

There is no one else in the room. It’s just her, Wanda and the moment instilled between the two of you. The string lights fuzz on the edges of your line of perception, and the music is just background, static beneath the beat of your own pounding heart. 

And for the first time, you’re not running.

You’re choosing her.

Again and again and again.

general masterlist

[lemonade4wanda]

Sugar mommy Wanda headcannons

A/n: doing something a bit different and going back to my old ways of headcannons!!! I would really love any feedback on this especially bc it's not what I usually write <3

☆ She first sees you in a coffee shop in down town Manhattan. You were her favourite barista, always making her coffees just right. That was until one morning as she walked in you were being fired.

☆ Of course, she was straight over to comfort you and offer you a job as her personal assistant. Working right beside her at Maximoff Industries, a high-end fashion company.

☆ Your job is often easy with little to no actual work to do, leaving you to sit around her office all day looking pretty.

☆ At the end of your first week, she leaves a small gift box with studded designer earrings and a handwritten note inside. The first of many gifts.

☆ You find yourself often close to Wanda whether by accident or in a situation she'd manufactured to look like accident. For example, when she had you try and fix her laptop just to see you lean across the desk. Or at the work Christmas do how your chair happened to go missing and she eagerly invited you to her lap with a sly grin, not that you minded of course.

☆ Anything you ever dared to lay eyes on was yours no matter the price.

☆ All her new designs would be sent straight to you. Even occasionally putting you into her runways as a model just to show you off.

☆ As things progressed, you found Wanda had a jealous side. Which showed itself most in the form of possessive sex. Making you declare you were hers."Go on, say it. Everyone knows you've wanted to say it since you first met me. Say you belong to Mommy." Her fingers would be deep in your mouth making you suck on them like such a good girl, desperate to please.

☆ She wasn't shy about her claimings to you in public either. From rough makeout sessions to designing clothes which showed off the darkest of hickeys she'd lovingly left on you.

☆ Wanda could be cold as well, though. If you didn't pay enough attention to her, she'd become withdrawn and almost cruel to your needs. "Not now, malysh. I don't have time for toys." She'd talk dismissively to you as if you were dispensible to her. You knew she was just trying to punish you, but even so, it stung.

☆ She loved to draw any moan, yelp, gasp, or other sound from you while intimate. It almost reassured her of your happiness and enjoyment. To hear your pleasure pleased her deeply.

☆ Wanda adored you as much more than just a sugar baby, but she'd never be vulnerable enough with you or anyone to admit it. Vulnerability was a weakness in her eyes.

[nyletac]

❤️‍🔥18+ Scarlet Witch Headcannons❤️‍🔥

Pairing: Scarlet Witch x Female! Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+, Smut, WLW, Bad B (MoM) scarlet witch, Headcannons

Author’s Note: WUH LUH WUH. Seriously thank you for whoever requested this I’ve been wanting to do something like this for Wanda. I love her so much😭😭

Wanda loves control, but she doesn’t show it aggressively. She’s seductive and commanding with her sultry tone and lingering touches. Her dominance is assertive but gentle, the kind that makes coils in your stomach and leaves you trembling.

Her accent gets thicker when she’s turned on, especially when whispering the most dirty and seductive things into your ear, and she knows exactly how it affects you. She knows if she tried hard enough, her voice alone could make you orgasm.

Wanda uses her chaos magic in the bedroom, and it’s absolutely unfair but oh so enjoyable. Binding your wrists without rope, pinning you down without touching you, flicking invisible touches across your thighs or nipples until you're begging. She’ll smirk and say, “Use your words, láska moja.”

She is a slow, thorough, and ruthless giver. Wanda will take her time between your thighs, overstimulating you with her mouth while keeping your hips magically restrained.

She loves eye contact while eating you out. Her glowing red eyes meeting yours while her tongue works deep and lazy is absolutely mind-breaking.

If you want to return the favor, Wanda loves sitting on your face, and she’s a grinder. She won’t be shy about it either. She’ll ride your tongue until her thighs are shaking, hands in your hair, moaning your name like a prayer in that deep thick accent of hers.

One of her favorite things? Teasing you with her magic while pretending everything is normal. In public, at dinner, during missions, youll feel it. Invisible fingers ghosting between your legs, or a pressure building in your core, and Wanda will act like she’s done nothing wrong.

Telepathy play. She’ll invade your thoughts while you're trying to concentrate, murmuring filthy commands into your mind:

“I know how wet you are right now. You want me to touch you, don’t you?”. Or even looking through dirty thoughts and fantasys of yours to make bedroom play extra spicy and fulfilling for you.

If she’s jealous or in a possessive mood, she’ll fuck you hard, deep, and without mercy, a reminder that you belong to her. Marks, scratches, and hickeys are left intentionally visible.

Pillow princess? Not a chance. Wanda’s a switch but loves being in control. She’ll strap up and rail you until you’re crying her name.

Loves using restraint magic so she can tease your entrance with the tip of her toy for what feels like forever, just to hear you whimper.

Breath play, edging, and overstimulation are common with her. She’ll keep you shaking, teetering on the edge, and whisper, “You don’t come until I say so.”

Sleepy Sex. If you’re exhausted, she’ll gently wake you with her fingers already inside you, her mouth on your nipple, and a whisper of, “Shh, just let me make you feel good, moya lyubov.” Or about how wrecked you look, and how beautiful your body is when it’s hers to worship.

After she’s taken you apart, Wanda is incredibly soft and doting. She’ll clean you up, draw you into her arms, and press slow kisses to your hairline. Even if she uses magic to enhance pleasure in the bedroom, when it comes to aftercare, she goes and gets the cloths, water, snacks, etc, herself.

If she got rough, she’ll trace every bruise or lovebite with glowing red fingertips, soothing and apologizing softly in Sokovian. She’ll even run a warm bath for you.

Expect her to cuddle you tight, bury her face in your neck, and whisper, “You’re mine. Always.”

[wandaspup]

wanda celebrating your birthday the way she loves the most

warnings | allusions/mention of sex

⁀➴ thinking about wanda sending you nudes as part of your birthday gift. she has a lot planned, and this is just the start.

⁀➴ she knows you can’t resist her, she knows she drives you crazy with anything that she does or says. she knows she’s your weakness. a simple “good girl” from her makes you weak in the knees.

⁀➴ it looks like she was sculpted by the gods, you truly believe that. every curve of her body, every freckle, her soft tummy, her little bush that leaves little to the imagination… god, you could stare at her for hours.

⁀➴ she knows how to get you going, she knows exactly what to do in order to get the reactions she wants.

⁀➴ the teasing doesn’t stop till she gets her hands on you and makes you cum over and over again. you’re a mess but you’re her mess.

⁀➴ you can’t wait for the rest of the gift. she has you wrapped around her finger, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[love-me-satoru]

You asked for it

Pairings: Mommy!Wanda Maximoff x Brat! Fem Reader.

warnings: Smuttttt, pussy slapping, bratting, mommy kink

a/n: i don’t know where this came from………

“Mommy please!”

“Oh no sweetie, you asked for it”

You let out a scream. Her hand connected your weeping cunt. Gushing. You’re looking up at her. You were a brat today. She dragged you everywhere she went today. Random stores and her job. All you wanted to do today was lay around the house and your mommy. But she said she had to go and she made you come with her.

“Are you done princess?”

“No! Stop being mean to me!”

another smack

“Fuck!”

“Oh dorogoya. You know better than to let those naughty words out.”

Two more quick smacks against your cunt. As he shoves two fingers into soaked cunt. Squeezing immediately around her. Loud moans are leaking from you now. Thrashing against her hold on you.

“Mommy please! i wanna cum!”

“Should of thought about that before you decided to be a fucking brat.”

Her hand met your cunt again. screaming out squirting all over her as she just laughs.

“You’re so cute. Do that again for me sweetie.”

[ellastone-olsen]

Love her in every universe

[sapphicandgraphic]

Sick As A Dog—Chapter 3

Summary: You’re a dog walker. When your favorite clients notice you’re not feeling well, they insist on taking care of you.

Chapter: 3/? In which your fever gets worse and Wanda comes to your rescue!

Warnings: Mostly still fluff and sick!fic hurt/comfort with a couple moments of explicit tension and mutual longing thrown in. Also some allusions to parental loss, family trauma, runaway experiences. Reader struggles with accepting help, relying on others.

A/N: Thank you to everyone for reading and commenting and getting in touch to request the next chapter! Again, tried to turn this around ASAP. A couple of my anons have reached out with requests, which has been really fun to try and include. If you want to show me some love, please subscribe to my Patreon channel — you can vote on what happens next in active stories, and get early access to future chapter updates!

Wanda glanced over at you as the credits rolled. You were slumped against Nat—eyes closed, lips parted slightly—with your right hand fisted loosely in her t-shirt.

“Finally,” Nat whispered to her wife. “Never seen somebody fight sleep so hard.”

“Poor thing,” Wanda clucked, brushing the back of her knuckles across your face. “She’s so exhausted.”

Natasha carefully maneuvered her arm around your back, then placed the other beneath your knees. “Come on, little wolf,” she breathed, scooping you up. “Time for bed.”

Natasha cradled you against her chest and walked gingerly toward the stairs, trying not to wake you. She could feel her wife trailing behind, watching your sleeping form like a hawk.

They debated bringing you to their room, but ultimately decided you’d be more comfortable with space to spread out. Together the two women settled you on the queen bed in the guest bedroom. Wanda sat on the edge of the mattress and fussed with the blankets. You were trembling slightly, the chill from your fever driving you further under the covers.

“She’s still way too warm,” Wanda said quietly, pressing her palm to your cheek. You mumbled something in your sleep, leaning into her touch like a magnet.

Natasha placed a hand on her wife’s shoulder, massaging her gently. “I emailed Strange. He’ll be here tomorrow afternoon and he’ll bring his bag of tricks.”

Wanda nodded.

She knew she should get up, go to bed. But it was so hard to leave you like this. She was used to watching you stride through the front door, healthy and strong, Oscar bounding beside you. Here in the dim light, with a sheen of sweat on your pale face, you looked so unlike yourself. A crack of thunder sounded overhead, the loud rumble echoing through the house. You flinched, opening your eyes halfway.

“Nat?” Your voice was small, sleepy.

“Hey,” the redhead said, voice soothing. “It’s ok. Just some thunder. Go back to sleep.”

You hummed, rolling closer to Wanda’s lap. She shifted automatically, allowing you to nuzzle against her hip.

“Stay?” The question fell from your lips without thinking. Being sick and sleepy made all your inhibitions evaporate. Every part of your body craved their presence, their comfort. “Just ‘til I fall asleep?”

Wanda smiled. “I think you’re asleep right now, sweetheart.”

“Am not,” you said, eyebrows furrowing together in disagreement.

But a few seconds later your breathing evened out again, deep and slow.

“Come on,” Natasha said, nodding toward the door. “She’s out.”

Wanda shook her head. She stood up from the bed carefully, walked to the other side of the room, and pulled a sitting chair from the corner, hauling it until it was right beside bed. “You go on, detka. I’m going to watch her for a little longer, make sure she doesn’t wake up again.”

Nat sighed fondly. She thought about objecting. After all, Wanda needed her rest, too. And a night spent worrying over you was sure to be uncomfortable, sleepless. But there was no point arguing with her wife when she got like this—stubbornly possessive, protective to a fault.

“You’re impossible,” Natasha growled, helping her position the chair, piling on pillows and a blanket. “And I love you.”

Wanda smiled.

“It’s kinda hot, you know,” Nat murmured, leaning over her wife’s back, nuzzling into her neck. “Seeing you in mama bear mode.”

Nat tilted her head back, giving the other woman easier access. “Is that right?” she said, breath hitching slightly as Nat’s teeth found purchase against her skin, nipping and sucking. “Daddy.”

Nat whined at the nickname. “Not fair.”

“You started it, milaya,” Wanda whispered, a wicked smile on her face. “Now be good and go to bed.”

Natasha kissed the crown of her wife’s head. “Call me if she wakes up or gets worse or…”

She trailed off, frowning. Wanda squeezed her hand. “I’ll let you know if she so much as sneezes.”

Wanda settled back into the chair, watching you with soft, cautious eyes. She tracked the rise and fall of your chest, the flush in your cheeks, the shiver that worked its way through your frame every so often. Like she could improve your condition through sheer force of will.

Outside, the rain petered out. The thunder retreated. The house settled, quiet and heavy. Just before Wanda’s eyes slipped closed, she placed her hand on top of yours, a lifeline.

Neither of you moved for several hours. It was early morning when your fever spiked. You began tossing and turning, trapped on the verge of waking up, trying to escape the nightmares—more vivid and lifelike than ever before, clawing through your brain with ferocious malice as your temperature climbed higher and higher.

Wanda was slumped in the chair, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle, fingers still tangled with yours. As she groggily came to her senses, she gripped you instinctively.

She realized it was the sound of your voice that had woken her up, and she sat forward. You were twisted in the sheets. She couldn’t make out what you were saying, but your tone was urgent, distressed. Then two words broke through, clear and heart-wrenching.

“Stop,” you moaned. “Stop.”

She was on her feet in an instant, reaching toward you.

“Milaya?” Her voice was scratchy with sleep. “Wake up.”

She laid a hand on your arm. This turned out to be a bad idea. You pulled yourself upright and away, movements jerky and tense. Wanda stilled, peering into your face. You wore a vacant expression, eyes glassy and unseeing.

“Can’t,” you croaked, groping the sheets in the half-light of dawn. Operating on pure adrenaline, you hauled yourself to the edge of the bed.

“Wait—“ Wanda tried to restrain you, but you wiggled out of her grip, wrenching the sheets off your body. A terrible fear had seized your unconscious mind. With enormous effort you hauled yourself out of bed, standing on wobbly legs.

Wanda called your name firmly. Your unfocused eyes slid right over her face without recognition.

“Can’t let him,” you explained adamantly.

Wanda’s features tightened in alarm. Whatever you were seeing, it didn’t sound good. She kept her voice soothing and low, standing up and placing herself between you and the door.

“There’s no one here,” she said. “You’re safe.”

This time you paused, tilting your head to the side. Some of your waking nightmare seemed to dissipate, like an unseen hand had just brushed aside several cobwebs.

Just when she thought she might have broken through, the bedroom door opened and a worried Natasha appeared.

“What’s going on?” She asked, voice thick with sleep. “I thought I heard…”

The sudden appearance of a shadowy figure in the doorway caused you to retreat, stumbling backward slightly, forehead furrowing in mistrust. Wanda held up a hand and Natasha stilled instantly, the look on your face halting her in her tracks.

“You have a fever,” Wanda continued softly. “You’re confused. But you’re with Wanda and Natasha, and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

You shivered, sinking to your knees in the center of the room. Wanda watched you with bated breath. You blinked once, twice, then scrubbed both your hands over your face.

“Wanda?” You still sounded disoriented, but more like yourself now. “‘Tasha?”

Wanda joined you on the floor, grabbing the blanket from the bed and wrapping it around your shoulders. “Hey you,” she breathed, relief flooding her chest. “Look at me.”

You glanced up, still obviously exhausted and confused, but more aware of your surroundings. “You were having a nightmare,” she said, voice trembling slightly. “Sounded very unpleasant.”

You swallowed thickly, trying to forget the images. “Felt so real.”

She settled one arm around the back of your neck, bringing the other up to caress your cheek. “Just a dream,” she soothed. “I’ve got you.”

You felt the last bits of tension go out of your body at those words, slumping against her chest as she guided you into a hug.

“You scared me,” Wanda breathed, planting a kiss against your hair.

“Sorry,” you whispered, feeling wretched. “Didn’t mean to.”

Natasha approached cautiously. “Let’s get you off the floor, little wolf,” she suggested.

Wanda maneuvered you back into the bed, arranging your body against the pillows but never letting you out of her fierce, firm grip.

“Baby,” she said, motioning to her wife. “Can you go downstairs and get the acetaminophen?”

The other woman nodded, turning and disappearing into the hallway. You sank into the warm embrace of Wanda’s arms, secure and soft.

“Don’t fall back asleep yet,” she said. When you didn’t respond she gave you a little shake.

“Don’t feel good,” you mumbled blearily.

“I know,” she soothed. “I know.”

When Nat returned, Oscar was hot on her heels, excited by all the commotion.

Wanda prodded you more deliberately, saying your name in your ear. “I need you to sit up and take some medicine.”

You wished you could explain how impossible this request felt. Now that you were more awake, you could really feel how much your symptoms had worsened. Your body was heavy with exhaustion, your throat achy and scratchy, your head pounding.

“Hit by a truck,” you said, hoping this would excuse you from all further obligations.

Nat ducked her head, trying not to laugh at this statement. Wanda gave her a disapproving look, then persisted with her task. She pulled you between her legs and against her chest, then tipped your head back against her shoulder.

“This will help bring your temperature down,” she explained.

“Don’t care,” you rasped.

“That means no more scary nightmares,” Wanda said, her voice taking on a familiar sing-song lilt of persuasion.

You considered this for a moment. Finally, reluctantly, you opened your mouth.

Two tablets were placed on your tongue. They had an acrid taste and you grimaced. In the next second, a glass of cool water touched your lips. You accepted the drink, swallowing the medicine in two quick gulps.

“Ick,” you said, shaking your head and smacking your tongue a few times to dilute the aftertaste.

“Good girl,” Wanda murmured, stroking the side of your face.

“Your good girl,” you agreed happily.

Wanda’s hand stuttered just for a moment. Nat caught her eye, and they exchanged a charged look. You were completely oblivious, caring only for the gentle feeling of Wanda’s fingers against your face. A few minutes later your features slackened, your muscles relaxed. When she was sure you were asleep, Nat spoke.

“You okay?”

Wanda closed her eyes, shaking her head. “It was awful,” she said.

Natasha lowered herself onto the bed, gripping Wanda’s leg, offering support. “What happened?”

“Some kind of fever dream or hallucination. Like she was fighting someone off or…” Wanda stopped short with a shiver. She wouldn’t forget the look on your face anytime soon, or the fear in your voice.

“It was just a nightmare,” Nat soothed.

“That’s what I thought at first.” Wanda hesitated to agree. “But it didn’t seem like just a nightmare.”

Nat was suddenly reminded of your conversation from earlier. When I was sixteen I bought a bus ticket and never looked back.

“Maybe not,” she said, allowing for the possibility that your past contained dark chapters they weren’t yet privy to. “But the important thing is, she’s here now. And she’s safe.”

Wanda nodded, grateful for Nat’s level head and calm nature. “You’re right.”

“Now,” Nat said, curling up against her wife. “I think we should all try to get a few more hours of sleep.”

Wanda realized in that very moment just how tired she was. With you and Natasha snug against her, she felt like she could actually relax. But wait—something was missing. She opened one eye, looking around the room.

Oscar was sitting nearby on the floor, his expressive brown eyes shining with an unspoken request. Wanda patted the covers softly. He wagged his tail and jumped up, taking his place at the foot of the bed like a sentinel. Wanda smiled. With the pack all together, she finally drifted off.

Taglist: @boowhobabe @lizziescutiepie @lizzieslover129 @tvseries-writings @natascharomanoff21 @marvelwomen-simp @loverluzer @tomy5girls @annya05xtreme @unholyhelbig @lesbianexistence @upsidedowndanvers @eatingouturmomrn @tobeawriter98

[dinogoofymutated]

Kissin and shit - Morph, Colossus, Gambit, Quicksilver. Heehee. here they be! I might or might not do more. It really depends bc I'm doing these as a writing exercise more than anything lol. TWS: Alcohol consumption mentioned, lots of overly enthusiastic smooching. Sexual references but no smut.

Morph

    “I love you- I love you so, so much” Morph doesn't have a minute to reply to you as you kiss them senselessly. Every once in a while when you separate to breathe, they try to speak, only for you to interrupt them with more kisses each time. Morph hums in a confused but happy sort of way. You’ve basically thrown yourself onto them, kissing them again and again until they loose their balance and the two of you topple backwards. The moment you realise you’re falling your hands slide behind their head to cushion the fall, and after a wide-eyed moment of shock both of you are laughing.

    You kiss all over their face, eyelids, cheeks, that little bump where their nose would be- and you don’t stop even as they start to fully fall victim to their laughter. God- did you love that sound! You catch their lips in a kiss again, and they hum in appreciation, panting when you finally pull away with a genuine smile on their face.

    “Not sure what I did to deserve that, but can you tell me so I can do it again?”

Colossus

    Piotr is struggling to keep up with your fiery, passionate kisses. He’s just a quiet as he always is, but you can feel his chest heaving against your own. His breath hitches as you drag your teeth across his bottom lip, before moving your kisses down his neck. You’re gentle with your kisses and nips- lavishing him with all of your love. He’s still silent, not a sound leaving his mouth, but you can feel his large hands squeeze around you just slightly. 

    “Piotr? Are you okay?” You ask when you finally pull away. He’s more red than you’ve ever seen him before, flushed from his ears and all the way down his neck. He doesn’t respond to you at first, his blown pupils looking back and fourth from your lips to your eyes a he fights the urge to pull you closer and kiss you until the next morning. 

    “Yes… Yes. More than okay.”

Gambit

    “You’re so drunk.” You giggle, hands buried in Remy’s hair before he pulls you into another drunken kiss. They’re wet, messy, and sloppy kisses, but you can’t seem to get enough of them. You can taste the alcohol on his toungue as it slides against your own, feeling the slight sting of the taste.

    “Pot callin’ the kettle black, Cher. You’re just as drunk as I am.” Remy chuckles, having pulled away for just a split second before you reel him back in again, your skin buzzing with delight from the feeling of his body against yours. His hands drift down to your thighs before he’s hiking one up against his hip.

    So what if you were both a little drunk? To be honest, even if you were sober, you knew that the two of you would still have ended up in the same place you are now- smoochin.

Quicksilver

    “We really need to get going.” You say, and yet you’re still kissing Pietro, holding onto his tie that he hadn’t even been able to put on before the two of you had gotten carried away. He snorts a laugh against your lips, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist in a split second, his lips hardly leaving yours the entire time.

    “To what? Father’s stupid gala? We have plenty of time.” Pietro sighs, pressing his forehead against your own, pretty, white lashes resting against his cheekbones with his eyes still closed. “I’ll just zip us over when we’re done.” He says, walking you over to your desk where he sets you down- french kissing you the entire way there. You hardly have time to pull away and breathe to respond to him.

     “Believe me, Speedy, if we don’t get going, we’re going to be here all night.”

[ilovemarvel97]

Girl!? Part 2

Wanda Maximoff x masc reader

Word Count: 3,370

Summary: Wanda knows Y/N is a girl now. But she’s not ready. Is she?

Warnings: Little Angst, Fluffy, little intimate moment.

Main Masterlist

Part 1

---

Wanda’s POV

After Wanda left she avoided Y/N at all costs.

Days turned into weeks, and the distance between us grew.  

At first, Y/N still tried. She’d wave at me in the hallways, call my name when she saw me, wait outside my classroom like she always did. But every time, I turned away. I told myself it was for the best. That if I ignored the feelings, they would eventually go away.  

But they didn’t.  

Instead, they twisted inside me, growing heavier with every stolen glance, every moment I caught Y/N laughing with someone else, every time I saw her and felt the sharp sting of what I was losing.  

And then, one day, Y/N stopped trying.  

No more waiting outside my class. No more teasing smiles in the hallways. No more searching for me at lunch.  

It was as if she had accepted it—accepted that I didn’t want her.  

And maybe that should have made it easier.  

But it didn’t.  

Because now, instead of feeling overwhelmed by her presence, I felt the crushing weight of her absence.  

I hated it.  

I hated how empty the halls felt without her voice calling my name. I hated how I still looked for her even though I was the one who pushed her away. I hated the way my heart ached when I saw her joking around with someone else, acting like I had never mattered.  

But most of all, I hated myself for not being brave enough to hold on to what we had.  

Because the truth was, I missed her. I missed us.  

And I didn’t know if it was too late to get it back.

---

One weekend, Wanda was at Tony’s party. 

The music was loud, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat, but all Wanda could focus on was her.  

The cheerleader.  

She was draped over Y/N, her manicured fingers trailing along her arm, the cheerleader’s laugh high-pitched and flirtatious. And Y/N—Y/N wasn’t even entertaining her, but that didn’t seem to matter. The girl was persistent, touching her, leaning in way too close, and Wanda’s patience was wearing thin.  

Her grip tightened around the red cup in her hand. She had spent weeks trying to convince herself that she didn’t care anymore. That Y/N moving on was what she wanted.  

But watching someone else touch her? Hearing someone else giggle at her jokes? Seeing Y/N give even the smallest smile in return?  

It made Wanda furious.  

Before she could think it through, she was moving.  

She shoved through the crowd, her heartbeat pounding louder than the music. Y/N barely had a second to react before Wanda was right there, stepping between them and the cheerleader.  

“Wanda?” Y/N blinked in surprise, but Wanda ignored her.  

She turned to the cheerleader with a tight, forced smile. “Oh, sorry” she said, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “But you’re in my spot.”  

The girl’s brows furrowed. “Your spot?”  

Wanda didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Y/N by the collar, yanked Y/N forward, and crashed their lips together.  

The room blurred around them, the music fading into the background. Y/N tensed for a split second before melting into the kiss, her hands instinctively coming to rest on Wanda’s waist.  

Wanda didn’t know what she was doing—no, that was a lie. She *knew exactly* what she was doing. She was staking her claim, making it clear to everyone that Y/N was hers.  

When she finally pulled back, her chest was heaving, her lips tingling, and Y/N was staring at her with wide, stunned eyes.  

The cheerleader scoffed. “Seriously?”  

Wanda barely spared her a glance. “Yeah. Seriously.”  

The girl huffed and stormed off, but Wanda couldn’t care less.  

Because now, it was just her and Y/N.  

And the look on Y/N’s face—the mix of confusion, shock, and something else, something softer—made Wanda realize that maybe, just maybe… she wasn’t done with this after all.

Y/N blinked, still processing what had just happened.  

“Uh…” They ran a hand through their hair, looking utterly stunned. “Not that I’m complaining, but—what the hell was that?”  

Wanda crossed her arms, suddenly aware of what she had just done. Heat crept up her neck, but she refused to show it. Instead, she lifted her chin, feigning confidence. “That was me saving you.”  

Y/N let out a dry laugh. “Saving me? Wanda, I wasn’t in danger. The girl was annoying, sure, but I could’ve handled it.”  

Wanda clenched her jaw. “Yeah, well… you took too long.”  

Y/N narrowed their eyes, stepping closer. “Oh, I took too long? Or were you just jealous?”  

Wanda scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Jealous? Of her? Please.”  

But even as the words left her mouth, she knew they were a lie.  

Y/N tilted their head, studying her with that maddeningly knowing expression. “Right. So you just kiss people at random parties for fun now?”  

Wanda swallowed. She didn’t have an answer for that.  

Because the truth was, she hadn’t planned it. She had spent weeks pushing Y/N away, convincing herself that whatever feelings she had were nothing. That she could live without them.  

But the second she saw someone else trying to take her place, something in her snapped.  

Y/N took another step forward, and Wanda’s breath hitched. They were too close.  

“Tell me the truth,” Y/N said, voice softer now. “Why did you do it?”  

Wanda opened her mouth. Closed it. She wanted to lie, to brush it off, to act like it didn’t mean anything.  

But Y/N was looking at her with so much patience, so much hope.  

And suddenly, she was so tired of pretending.  

“I don’t know,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I saw her touching you, and I hated it.”  

Y/N’s lips twitched, but they stayed silent, waiting.  

Wanda let out a breath. “I thought I could ignore it. Ignore you. But I can’t.” She swallowed hard, finally meeting Y/N’s eyes. “I don’t want to.”  

Something flickered across Y/N’s face—relief, maybe.  

Then, before Wanda could second-guess herself, Y/N’s hands were on her waist, pulling her in.  

“So don’t,” Y/N murmured.  

And this time, Y/N kissed her.

The moment Y/N’s lips met hers, Wanda felt everything she had been trying to suppress crash over her like a tidal wave.  

She wasn’t thinking anymore. She wasn’t worried about what this meant, about what anyone would say, about the weeks she had spent running away.  

All she knew was that kissing Y/N felt right.  

Her hands gripped their shirt, pulling them closer, and Y/N responded instantly, deepening the kiss with a quiet sigh against her lips. The party around them blurred into nothing—just heat, just the feeling of Y/N’s hands steady on her waist, just the way her heart pounded so hard she swore Y/N could feel it.  

Then someone whistled, and Wanda snapped back to reality.  

She pulled away, breathless, realizing that people were staring. A few partygoers were smirking, clearly entertained by the show.  

Her face burned.  

Y/N, on the other hand, just grinned. “You really don’t want to ignore me, huh?”  

Wanda scowled, shoving Y/N lightly. “Shut up.”  

But Y/N only laughed, their eyes twinkling with something so *stupidly* soft that Wanda felt her stomach flip.  

And suddenly, she wasn’t scared anymore.  

Because for the first time, she wasn’t running. She wasn’t hiding.  

She had chosen this.  

She had chosen Y/N.

---

The party continued around them, but for Wanda, everything else felt unimportant.  

She had just kissed Y/N. In front of everyone. And she didn’t regret it.  

But now that the moment was over, reality settled in.  

What did this mean? Where did they go from here?  

Y/N was watching her, still grinning like she had just won some sort of game. And maybe, in a way, she had.  

“You’re staring,” Y/N teased.  

Wanda rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “You’re annoying.”  

Y/N chuckled. “And yet, you kissed me.”  

Wanda felt her face heat up again. “Don’t let it get to your head.”  

“Oh, it’s already there.” Y/N smirked. “So, does this mean you’re finally done running?”  

Wanda hesitated. The past few weeks had been hell, pushing Y/N away, convincing herself she didn’t care—only to realize that she did.  

More than she wanted to admit.  

She took a deep breath. “I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve never—” She stopped herself, biting her lip. “I’ve never liked a girl before.”  

Y/N’s smirk softened into something gentler. “That’s okay,” they said, voice steady. “We don’t have to rush anything. But…” They took a step closer, their fingers brushing against Wanda’s hand. “Just tell me one thing.”  

Wanda glanced up.  

“Do you want this?” Y/N asked. “Me and you?”  

Wanda swallowed, her heart hammering.  

Then, finally, she nodded.  

“Yes.”  

Y/N’s smile widened, and Wanda swore she could feel the warmth of it settling into her chest.  

“Good,” Y/N murmured. “Because I want this too.”  

And just like that, Wanda felt like she could breathe again. Especially when Y/N’s were on hers again in the next second. 

---

The next few days felt different.  

Not in a bad way—just new.  

Y/N didn’t push, didn’t rush. She didn’t suddenly act like they were dating, but she also didn’t act like strangers anymore. Instead, Y/N met Wanda where she was, taking things slow.  

Y/N started waiting for her after class, casually leaning against the lockers with that same easy smile. She’d walk with Wanda to her next period, filling the space between them with light conversation and dumb jokes.  

And Wanda let her.  

She didn’t overthink it, didn’t let herself get caught up in what it meant. She just… let herself enjoy it.  

After school, Y/N started picking her up. Sometimes they’d grab coffee or ice cream, sometimes they’d just drive around, listening to music. Other times, they’d sit in Y/N’s car, parked somewhere quiet, talking about everything and nothing.  

It was easy.  

And for the first time in weeks, Wanda wasn’t scared.  

She was just happy.

Wanda was grabbing a book from her locker when she felt a familiar presence beside her. She turned her head slightly, already knowing who it was.  

Y/N stood there, shifting on her feet, hands tucked into her pockets. But something was different this time. She wasn’t wearing her usual teasing smirk or cracking some dumb joke.  

She looked… nervous.  

Wanda raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”  

Y/N let out a breath, then nodded. “Yeah. Just—uh—been meaning to ask you something.”  

Wanda closed her locker, leaning against it. “Go on.”  

Y/N hesitated for a second, then rubbed the back of her neck, looking anywhere but at Wanda. “So, we’ve been hanging out a lot, right?”  

Wanda nodded slowly, curious.  

“And it’s been great…I mean, I love spending time with you. But I was thinking…” Y/N finally met her gaze, and Wanda noticed the slight pink dusting Y/N cheeks.  

“Would you wanna go on an actual date with me?”  

Wanda blinked.  

Not hanging out, not just getting food after school. An official date.  

Her heart did a weird little flip.  

Y/N quickly added, “Only if you want to. No pressure. I just thought—”  

“Yes.”  

Y/N stopped rambling. “Wait, really?”  

Wanda smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. “Yeah. I’d like that.”  

The relief that washed over Y/N was almost comical. She grinned, stuffing her hands back into her pockets. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Um—Friday night? I’ll pick you up?”  

Wanda chuckled. “Friday sounds good.”  

Y/N nodded, still grinning as she started to back away. “Alright, then. It’s a date.”  

Wanda watched Y/N walk off, shaking her head with a small smile.  

A real date.  

And for once, instead of fear, all she felt was excitement.

---

Friday night arrived faster than Wanda expected.  

She stood in front of her mirror, smoothing out her outfit for what felt like the hundredth time. It wasn’t that she was nervous—okay, maybe she was a little nervous.  

This was different from all the times she and Y/N had hung out before. This was official. A real date.  

A knock on the front door pulled her out of her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her bag and made her way downstairs.  

When she opened the door, Y/N was standing there, dressed slightly nicer than usual but still effortlessly cool. They offered her a sheepish smile, holding out a single flower.  

“For you,” they said. “I thought about getting a whole bouquet, but I didn’t want to overdo it.”  

Wanda laughed softly, taking the flower. “It’s perfect.”  

Y/N’s grin widened. “Shall we?”  

---

Y/N drove them to the theater and once she parks the car she asks Wanda “too cliché?”

Wanda shakes her head with a small smile, “No! It’s fine. It’s nice”. 

The theater was dimly lit, the scent of buttered popcorn filling the air. Wanda and Y/N found their seats, drinks and snacks in hand.  

The movie was some action-packed blockbuster, but Wanda found herself more aware of Y/N than the explosions on screen.  

Halfway through, Y/N casually stretched her arm along the back of Wanda’s seat. It was such a cliché move that Wanda almost laughed—but she didn’t pull away.  

Instead, she leaned in just slightly, letting their shoulders brush.  

Y/N turned her head toward her, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips, but she didn’t say anything. She just let the moment settle between them.  

After the movie, they found a small diner nearby, sliding into a booth across from each other. The place had a cozy, old-school vibe, with checkered floors and a jukebox in the corner.  

“Okay,” Y/N said, stirring their milkshake. “Honest thoughts on the movie?”  

Wanda smirked. “Over-the-top, ridiculous, and way too many explosions.”  

Y/N grinned. “So… you loved it?”  

She rolled her eyes, but the way Y/N was looking at her made her stomach flip.  

Conversation flowed easily between them, filled with teasing remarks and laughter. And as Wanda watched Y/N animatedly tell a story about something dumb they did as a kid, she realized something.  

She wasn’t nervous anymore.  

She was just happy.  

As the night went on, they eventually wandered outside, the cool air wrapping around them.  

Y/N walked beside her, hands in their pockets. “So, did I do okay for our first official date?”  

Wanda pretended to consider it, then smiled. “I think you did great.”  

Y/N exhaled dramatically. “Good. Because I was so close to panicking earlier.”  

Wanda laughed, and before she could overthink it, she reached for Y/N’s hand, intertwining their fingers.  

Y/N froze for half a second, then squeezed her hand gently.  

Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The streetlights cast a soft glow around them, the world suddenly feeling quieter.  

Y/N hesitated, then, voice barely above a whisper, asked, “Can I kiss you?”  

Wanda’s heart pounded, but this time, she wasn’t scared.  

She nodded.  

Y/N leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn’t.  

And when their lips met, it was soft, warm, and everything Wanda hadn’t known she’d been waiting for.  

When they pulled away, Y/N chuckled lightly. “Yeah… definitely the best first date ever.”  

Wanda laughed, shaking her head, but she couldn’t stop smiling.  

Because, for once, she finally let herself want this.  

And it felt right.

---

The first date had been perfect. The second one? Just as good.  

By the time their third date rolled around, Wanda wasn’t questioning things anymore. She wasn’t overthinking what it meant or trying to run from her feelings.  

She liked Y/N. That was undeniable.  

And Y/N? Well, they made it impossible not to fall for them.  

On the third date.

Y/N had planned a simple but sweet evening—taking Wanda to a small, scenic park with a picnic setup under the stars. A blanket, some snacks, and soft music playing from Y/N’s phone.  

Wanda sat beside Y/N, sipping on a soda, completely at ease.  

“This is nice,” she admitted, glancing at Y/N.  

Y/N smiled. “Yeah? I was hoping you’d like it.”  

Wanda shook her head, amused. “You’re really good at this dating thing.”  

Y/N laughed, but then her expression turned slightly more serious. “Speaking of…”  

She set her drink down, shifting to face Wanda fully. Wanda raised an eyebrow, sensing a shift in the air.  

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Y/N started. “About us.”  

Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh?”  

Y/N nodded, suddenly looking a little nervous. “I really like you, Wanda. And I know we’ve been taking things slow, which I love. But…” She hesitated, then let out a breath. “I want to be more than just dating you. I want to be able to call you…mine…my girlfriend.”  

Wanda’s breath caught in her throat.  

Y/N quickly added, “Only if you’re ready! No pressure at all, I just—I needed to ask.”  

For a long moment, Wanda just stared at Y/N, her chest feeling impossibly full.  

Then, she smiled.  

“Y/N,” she said softly, reaching for Y/N’s hand. “I want that too.”  

Y/N blinked. “I know it’s too early-…what?”  

Wanda laughed. “I want that too. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine” Wanda caress Y/N cheek and said “I’d love to be your girlfriend.”  

The relief and joy on Y/N’s face were immediate. She grinned, closed the gap between them, kissing Wanda passionately.

“My girlfriend” Y/N whisper when the kiss ends. She brush their nose making Wanda smile wider. 

---

10 Years Later

Wanda was cooking breakfast. As she flipped the pancakes, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist. A familiar presence pressed against her back, kissing her neck and just behind her ear before whispering, “Good morning, my love.”

Wanda smiled and turned to see Y/N, still wearing a sleepy grin.

“Good morning, babe,” Wanda murmured, leaning up to kiss Y/N softly. The kiss deepened as Y/N pulled her closer, hands sliding down to give Wanda’s ass a playful squeeze, earning a soft gasp from her. But before anything could escalate, Wanda pressed a gentle hand to Y/N’s chest.

“Not here, babe,” she warned.

“It’s okay. We still have time,” Y/N replied, trailing kisses along Wanda’s neck.

“Y/N, we can’t…” Wanda sighed, half-heartedly trying to stop her.

Just then, the sound of tiny footsteps echoed down the stairs, followed by a chorus of “Mommy! Mama!”

Y/N groaned dramatically into Wanda’s neck, making her chuckle.

“I told you,” Wanda said with a smirk.

“When you told me you wanted kids, I didn’t realize they’d be such little cockblockers,” Y/N whined, making Wanda burst out laughing.

“Maybe tonight, babe,” Wanda said, kissing Y/N and patting her cheek just as the footsteps grew louder—and two little figures burst into the kitchen.

“Mommy! Mama!” the twin boys shouted in unison, their faces lit up with excitement.

“Oh my goodness! My little munchkins are already awake?” Y/N beamed, scooping both of them into her arms and covering their faces with kisses, making them giggle and squirm.

“Mama, stop!” Tommy laughed, trying to push Y/N’s face away.

Wanda watched the scene with a big smile on her face.

“Mommy, help!” Billy called out, reaching toward her.

Wanda tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Well, I guess I should help then,” she said, diving in to kiss them all over just like Y/N, making the boys burst into even louder laughter.

Their laughter filled the kitchen, echoing through the home like music. Y/N was giggling too, holding both boys tightly as they tried to escape the tickle attack from their moms. Pancakes were momentarily forgotten, but no one seemed to care.

Wanda stood there for a moment, taking it all in—her perfect little family, the warmth in the room, the love in her heart. She looked at Y/N, who was now kissing Tommy’s cheek again while Billy clung to her neck, and felt a deep ache of gratitude swell in her chest.

She was so glad she had found the courage to love Y/N. Even when it scared her. Even when she didn't know how the world—or her own heart—would react to falling in love with another girl. But she did. She chose love. And it brought her here.

To pancakes. To twin giggles. To warm arms around her waist every morning.

To home.

And Wanda had never been happier.

---

The End!

[wstviewvidal]

A414- w. maximoff

summary: they always say to never fall for a coworker, but what if it’s mutual?

pairing: teacher!r x teacher!wanda maximoff

a/n: i actually haven’t written in a while guys so…

the hallway seemed bigger the day you first arrived. the walls were bleak and wet with a new coat of white paint, but today’s hallways are filled with back to school bulletin boards and club flyers.

a small sigh escapes your lips as you unlock the classroom door, A414. a small shiver creeps up your spine as you look over your classroom— the string lights hung from the ceiling and the red bean bags in the far corner of the room remind you of how new you are to the teaching profession.

“overthinking again?” a voice teases from behind you.

you’re met with a teasing smile and a fresh cup of coffee— wanda.

you roll your eyes playfully and open the door wider for her to enter. she slides past you and you note how she scans over your room with a hint of a smile.

“this year will be better than last year,” she turns to face you, her hair moving softly as she does a 180, “i promise.”

the previous school year was your first year teaching, and by no means was it easy. you had grown close to wanda in the few months she taught next door to you.

she offered words of wisdom and the occasional breakfast sandwich she made for you prior to arriving on campus.

you let out an exasperated sigh, “i just don’t want to get pink slipped, you know?”

you sit at your chair and lay your head in your hands, “i was on the verge of getting pink slipped last year, im sure.”

wanda watches your defeated form with a small pout on your face, “your first year is always the roughest.”

she walks over to where you’re sitting and places a comforting hand on your shoulder, “i’ll be right next door to you, okay? i won’t let anything happen.”

and there it is— the part of you’d been dreading but also anticipating for the past three months. wanda’s affection.

you smile as you lift your head from your hands, a pink hue on your cheeks as you look up at her.

“thank you, ms. maximoff,” you tease.

she scrunches her nose, a grin on her lips as you call her that, “dummy.”

wanda leaves shortly after that and you’re left to review your upcoming lesson for the start of school next week. you can still feel the warmth of her hand on your right shoulder, and you can still smell the faint scent of her perfume left behind.

hours pass and before you know it, it’s lunch time. rolling away from your desk, you grab your bag and prepare to head to your car.

“leaving me already?” you can hear from your door way.

wanda is leaned against the door frame, arms crossed and a playful pout on her lips, “thought you knew better than to leave without saying goodbye.”

your stomach does flips at the flirty remark, and your face does nothing to hide the blush on creeping up your face.

clearing your throat, “i’m just off to lunch, maximoff. join me?” you smile sweetly at her, tilting your head to the side the slightest bit.

she takes in your appearance and lets out a soft chuckle, “i’ll drive.”

the drive to grab a quick bite was comfortingly quiet. wanda’s music played in the background while she hummed along.

you two end up at a drive thru, the same one you two had been to on frequent occasion during the school year.

you face wanda to let her know your order, but are interrupted by her already ordering for you. you stare at her side profile for the briefest of moments, admiring how beautiful she looks doing such a mundane task.

you internally groan, hating yourself for falling for a co-worker. your co worker who you’re sure wants nothing to do with you outside of work.

you let out a soft laugh as wanda parks into that parking spot— the same one you two always parked in during last school year.

wanda smiles and turns the ignition off, “you love this spot.”

“no, you love this spot,” you respond, inserting the straws in the to go cups.

she laughs, shaking her head, “it has the best view of the field.”

you scoff, looking at her with an unamused look, “this is a dry patch of grass.”

“but it’s our patchy grass field.”

you glance at her— she’s not even looking at you. she’s sat there just sipping her drink as if she didn’t just say something that made your heart hurt in the nicest way.

you sit in the passenger seat of her suv, legs crossed over the other as you eat your fries.

she peels the wrapper off her sandwich and glances over at you, “so, what are your goals for this year?”

you sit and think for a second, shrugging your shoulders, “not cry in the storage closet.”

she snorts, “low bar.”

“fine, i guess not cry in front of you again.”

that day had to have been one of the lowest in your life. the semester was close to ending and your students hadn’t been getting the best grades on their tests. part of you wondered if it had anything to do with your teaching.

wanda consoled you with ease and offered words of advice that day— and things shifted after that.

she raises her cup to that, “that sounds like a real goal to me.”

there’s a brief pause, just the sounds of the wrappers crinkling and the beat of the music wanda had queued.

“you know,” she begins, “you’re way too hard on yourself.”

you glance at her, eyes narrowed as you watch her, “says the girl who rewrote her syllabus three times.”

“that’s different,” she wipes her hands on a napkin and cleans her area, “i know im good at this. you’re still trying to convince yourself you’re not terrible.”

you momentarily freeze. you know she’s right, but you can’t help but try to find some lie in her truth.

wanda smiles at you with a fond expression, “your students love you— i can see it in how they treat you.”

you blink, caught off guard, “stalking me now?”

she rolls her eyes, “you were the teacher with the most gifts during teacher appreciation week. not even i have received that many in the eight years i’ve been teaching.”

you laugh and something in your chest flutters. you don’t realize you’re staring at her until your eyes meet. her nose scrunches and she tilts her head to the side. her mouth opens to say something— she doesn’t.

instead, she brushes a crumb off the sleeve of your top.

“messy eater.”

she sits back and fixes her hair, as if nothing happened in those few seconds.

you try not to freeze— to overthink the way her fingers lingered for just a moment too long.

the lunch break ends and just before you two go into your respective classrooms, she turns to you, “if you do end up crying again..”

“yeah?” you say softly.

“i placed a box of tissues in your bottom drawer. use as needed.”

you smile at the thought, then furrow your brows, “wait, that’s your supportive gesture?”

she smiles teasingly at you just before she walks back into her classroom, “you’ll do great this year, kid.”

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

Y/n holding money: Just turned 26 guess where I’m going??

Nat: The strip club?

Y/n: No! Jail i just robbed a bank, I’m a thief not a slut

Wanda: Babe please stop robbing banks

Y/n: But I bought you a necklace with my money

Wanda:…Aww babe thank you!

Nat sighing:….I’ll call a good lawyer

[lemonade4wanda]

Sugar mommy wanda brain rot is eating me alive.

☆imagine her hearing your going out with friends and she hands you her credit card to go wild with. Though the catch is for each €100 you spend she gets to edge you one time.

☆ her messaging you randomly during the day sending you all kind of messages which make you needy and hot all over.

☆ her taking you on the most amazing holiday after she hears you've never been abroad. Making sure to hire out the nicest private plane, the biggest villa with the most gorgeous sea views, staff on hand to help with your every want and need. Most importantly a massive master bedroom full of all her favourite toys

A/n: sorry for being away for so long again! Life is just so hellish and I can't promise it'll be back to normal any time soon.

[urmomisunderme2]

False god

Warnings: manipulation, implied stalking, mama/mommy wanda, tiny bit smut, mean wanda, dyslexic😭😭 bad writing and it’s short

Wanda saves you one day in the forest and stuff happens ig

You had meet your mommy…you don’t even know how long ago but you remember you where wondering through the woods upset and ready to end it all, tears streaming down your pink cheeks, you couldn’t keep going anymore, you couldn’t even walk around any more. You dropped down to the ground closing your eyes hoping you would never open them again.

“Oh my sweetie are you okay?” You hear this voice over you and a warm hand rubbing your arm “oh honey your so so cold” you squeeze your eyes open to see who this mystery person is but it’s far to bright for your little eyes. You feel the woman lifting you up into her arms holding you close “can you open your eyes for me baby girl” she doesn’t really ask she’s more telling you but you still shake your head to tell her no “yes you will, you can do it” you squeeze them open seeing a beautiful middle aged woman with auburn hair in front of you and you can’t help the whisper of a woah escape your lips “someone’s feeling a little better I see” the beautiful woman chuckles and you nod your head yes.

“Maybe you need a warm drink to heat you up…would you like to come and get one at mine?” You can’t help but get excited by the idea of getting to spend more time with her “YES PLEASEEE!!!” She smiles and gives you a kiss on the cheek. The mystery woman carries you for a while until you arrive at a cozy well built cabin, the woman opens the door and brings you to the sofa before a fire place and putting you under what seems a home knitted pink blanket “mmm so cozyyyy”

“I’m glad, here’s some green tea detka it should make you feel all better” the woman kisses your head and sits down next to you, you take a sip of the hot tea forgetting all the things that happened before she found you, they where crap memories anyway. Once you swallow your sip of tea you realise you don’t know her name “oh I forgot to tell you my name…I’m Wanda” she smiles like she could read your mind “I’m y/n” for a while you both sit in a comfortable silence while you finish your tea. Later that night Wanda puts on a movie, you end up cuddling into her and by the time the movie ends it’s dark outside and you never want to leave.

“Can I stay please?” You ask praying that she will say yes “of course pretty girl” Wanda smiles, you had never left since except for the walks you and Wanda sometimes go though the woods.

Over time you had gradually started calling her by mommy/mama, you couldn’t really help it, your brain had become all fuzzy and it was all to hard but mama was always there to take care of you. Forever.

———

“Mommy- I please” you moan was wanda’s fingers rut into you “so tight sweet girl, so good for mommy” it was all so much, no one had ever touched so nicely before mommy.

“God you look so cute when mommy plays with you baby” wanda moaned, she had a vibrater against her clit “mommy mommy please” wanda went faster as you begged making you cum, her cumming only a few seconds later. That was the first time she touched you like that and definitely not the last. It was one of your favourite things to do with your mama and luckily your other favourite things always lead it to sex, movie nights, bath time, colouring.

Today you woke up before her, that had never happened before mama was always up first and every so often she would wake you up with breakfast in bed.

You decided you where going to do the same for her, you sneak out of bed and out the front door to the outside, you hadn’t been outside by yourself since before you came here, you didn’t remember it at all but mommy told you she found you sad in the Forrest.

You walk around a bit looking for raspberries and blueberries that mommy always comes home with when suddenly someone pushes you against a near by tree wrapping their hands around your throat, you look up to see your mama but she looked different, not as happy as normal, you try to speak but you can’t when she’s holding your throat the way she is.

“You little brat, running away from me” she spat as you look at her confused “oh don’t look at me like an innocent little baby, I know your not, I watched you for months before you came here and you want to go back to THAT?!” Wanda’s hands get tighter around your throat “I can’t believe it after all I have done for you, the life I have given you out here as my baby free from stress and worry and now you do this to me?” You’d never seen her so mad before. You where starting to struggle to breathe trying to take in breath’s but none of them giving you enough air “mama- can’t breathe” you manage to choke out but she doesn’t listen as a sinister smile creeps up her face “good” Wanda whispers in your ear.

You start to kick her trying to get away, you weren’t running away from mommy but she wouldn’t listen and now you had too. You keep kicking but you can’t get out of her grasp only frustrating her more and more “you little bitch” she tightens her hands and everything goes black. Wanda carries you home changing your clothes and tucking you into bed “your mine baby girl, you can’t go anywhere” she whispers giving your head a little kiss.

You wake up a few hours later, hearing Wanda humming in the kitchen, you carefully get up and slowly walk through to the kitchen, Wanda turns around to greet you “oh look who’s finally, you where having nightmares my pretty baby” she holds you close, “but they where real” you mumble and wanda stiffens “tell mama and mama will tell you if it happened or not” she tells you hoping to find the reason why you’d run away without you having to know what she did to you “went to get berries to make mommy breakfast in bed and and… mommy was so mean to me… it hurt” Wanda’s fake smile flatters before going back into place, you had went to get berries for her and she had physical assaulted you.

“That never happened baby girl” she shush you, she could never let you know what had happened.

—///-

Tag list- @idkwhatever580