Cia

I only read smut She/her|21

[animentality]

[wandaslovey]

mommy is mommying~

picturing her on this call and you’re hidden from the camera, your head on her lap while she soothingly strokes your hair and cheeks

[imthxtgood]

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

50 Shades of Red || Chapter 10

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

summary: Wanda loses her virginity to the most eligible bachelorette in America.

content warnings: smut, cunnilingus, fingering

word count: 4.2k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Natasha is still. Too still. And quiet. 

With her heart pounding, Wanda sets her wine glass down, her stomach dropping. Her fingers shakily trace the edge of her plate, her mind racing as she tries to think of a way to take back the words she just uttered.

“I apologize,” Natasha begins, and Wanda’s head shoots up so quickly that she feels a muscle in her neck strain from the force. “For my silence. I’m just… surprised.”

Those dark green eyes are focused on her, and Wanda practically holds her breath, her mind racing. “Surprised?”

“Well yes,” Natasha smiles slightly, her eyes slowly trailing down Wanda’s top, lingering slightly before her eyes snap back up. “You’re a very beautiful woman, Wanda.”

She doesn’t elaborate, simply draining the last of her wine before standing. Her steps are confident, her hand outstretched as she walks around the table to stand at Wanda’s side. When Wanda looks up, she notices the way Natasha’s pupils have dilated, the barest hint of dark green around them. 

Taking the older woman’s hand, a brave move that Wanda barely even had the wits to think about, she stands. 

“I would be honored to be your first,” Natasha murmurs.

Oh god, it's so sweet and so cliche, but Wanda doesn’t really care. This feels like a scene straight out of one of Kate’s raunchy romance books that Wanda secretly likes to read. Normally, she would have to imagine that the handsome, older man with a dark past in the book is actually a woman, but now the scene is playing out before her very eyes. She doesn’t quite know how to react. 

“I would like that,” Wanda whispers, feeling Natasha’s hand squeeze hers gently before the older woman turns and starts walking down the hallway. This one is a different one, not leading towards the playroom, like Wanda had been expecting. She focuses on the hand wrapped around hers, the strong fingers guiding her as they walk in silence. 

Natasha stops in front of a door, the dark mahogany framing her red hair as she turns and faces Wanda. Timidly, Wanda looks up, finding nothing but softness in those eyes as Natasha brings a hand up to cup her face. 

“You can leave at any time, alright? I want you to feel comfortable with me, so tell me if you don’t like something or want me to stop.”

Smiling, Wanda feels relief course through her. She would say that Natasha is adorable, with her slightly rambling sentences and the way her eyes are earnest and kind. But, the slightly possessive grip of the older woman's fingers against her cheek says otherwise. Wanda doesn’t mind, her brain turning to mush as she feels her body relax, her heart rate quickening again, but this time, not from nervousness. 

“I understand,” Wanda murmurs, stepping forward into the woman’s space, loving the way her cinnamon scent wraps fully around her. She hears Natasha’s breath hitch and smiles slightly, emboldened. “I want this. I… I want you.”

Wanda never understood what authors meant when they said that a character’s eyes darkened. But in every sense of the word, Natasha’s did. Her pupils dilated even further as she took a steadying breath, her other hand coming up to wrap around Wanda’s waist. The look in her eyes was intent, and Wanda felt as though a spotlight had just been thrust upon her, the woman’s attention solely focused on her.

“By the end of the night,” Natasha muttered, leaning in close enough that Wanda could feel her breath on her neck. Goosebumps broke out on her skin, and she shuddered as she felt Natasha’s teeth lightly bite down on her ear. “I will have you moaning my name until your voice gives out.”

Biting her lip, Wanda pulled back slightly to look at Natasha’s face. She pretended that she wasn’t affected, but her flushed cheeks were not fooling anybody. “So confident.” 

“I know what I want. And I always get it.”

“Open the door,” Wanda said, her voice breathy and full of want. She didn’t care. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, her mind emptying until the only thing she could think about was Natasha. She craved to have those hands wrapped around her waist, her throat, tangled in her hair. She needed her mouth on her skin, that wicked tongue gliding over her neck and down her chest until-

“Fuck,” Natasha groaned, her voice low and raspy. The hand around Wanda’s waist shifted until her fingers grasped the waist of her pants, pulling her inside the bedroom. 

Wanda didn’t have the chance to look around, the dim lighting hitting her eyes for a moment before the door shut solidly behind her, and strong hands pushed her against it. Her own limbs failed to respond, her hands hanging uselessly at her sides for a moment, before she came to her senses, reaching up and wrapping her arms around Natasha’s toned shoulders, pulling her in. 

Warm lips caressed hers, and Wanda didn’t think twice before she parted her lips slightly, letting Natasha’s tongue in. She focused on the woman, loving the way her hands wrapped around her waist, her body pressing against hers until Wanda was fully against the door. The older woman’s chest pressed into hers, her hips trapping Wanda’s as her thigh pressed solidify between her legs, and a soft whimper escaped Wanda as she sucked desperately on Natasha’s soft lips. 

“I’m trying to be gentle with you,” Natasha rasped out, breaking the kiss and moving her lips to Wanda’s neck. “But you’re not making that easy.”

Wanda attempts to respond, but the only thing her mouth does is let out a low whine. She’s never felt like this before. It feels like all her nerves have been set aflame, and she’s throbbing with need as Natasha sucks a hickey into her neck. The strong fingers pinning her waist against the door are driving her insane, and she lets out a pathetic-sounding gasp as she ruts her hips forward, the friction against Natasha’s thigh making her head spin.

“Do you want to be mine?”

Oh, what a question. Wanda nods with every ounce of strength that she has left, her eyes intent as she locks her gaze with Natasha’s.

“Say the words, Wanda.” Natasha’s tone is serious, her eyes glancing between Wanda’s blown pupils and her swollen, parted lips. Her fingers dig into the younger woman’s waist, holding her hips in place as she waits for a response. 

“Yes, please,” Wanda manages, her words breathy as she looks up at Natasha. She looks utterly ruined, her eyes half-lidded and her hips attempting to thrust against the strong thigh flexing between them. “I want to be yours, make me yours, Ms. Romanoff.”

A half-growl and half-moan claws its way from Natasha’s throat, and she grasps Wanda around the waist before spinning her around and pushing her towards the bed. The younger woman is easy to move, her body pliant and soft beneath Natasha’s strong fingers. A small gasp leaves her lips as the back of her knees hits the bed, and Natasha wastes no time capturing them in a searing kiss. 

Fuck, the woman is everywhere. Wanda can’t escape her, and she doesn’t really want to. Somehow, she’s moved to the center of the bed, her hips straddled by firm thighs as Natasha’s hands explore her body. Every touch is electrifying, adding to the fuzzy waves of pleasure clouding her mind. The lips on hers are somehow both gentle and aggressive, sharp teeth gently nipping at her bottom lip before soothing it with a strong tongue. The scent of cinnamon mixes with the thick scent of arousal that stifles the air around them, and Wanda can’t remember the last time she felt this desperate. 

“Please,” she manages, her voice a broken whimper. 

Natasha lets out a low groan, her lips moving from Wanda’s swollen lips to the sensitive skin of her neck, sucking harshly. “You should beg more often, it suits you.”

Wanda doesn’t really have a response to that, her mind turning to mush at the low, raspy quality of Natasha’s voice. She settles for a desperate sort of nod, thrusting her hips up slightly to relieve the pressure growing between her thighs. Her actions are stopped by Natasha’s body weight resting fully on her hips, but she doesn’t quite mind. 

Actually, she was quite enjoying the feeling of being trapped. 

“Are you really?” Natasha asks, and Wanda flushes. Shit, she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. The woman on top of her continues, her eyes glinting slightly, “We can explore that later, Wanda, for now, I’m intent on making your first time memorable.”

Wanda lets out something that sounds like “Oh!” and then promptly forgets how to speak as Natasha places a steady hand on her sternum, pushing her down until her back hits the soft mattress. The older woman's figure above her makes her head spin, arousal coursing through her as strong hands find her wrists and pin them next to her head. 

“Try to stay still for me, can you do that?”

Goddamn, if that isn’t the hottest thing Wanda’s ever been asked. She manages a nod, sure that her face is flushed and her eyes wide, but she doesn’t quite care. The feeling of Natasha Romanoff on top of her is overwhelming in the best way, and she’ll do anything to please the woman.

“Anything, hm?”

Fuck. 

Wanda starts to speak, to defend the words that have slipped out of her traitorous mouth, but a hand covers her mouth and muffles any attempted words. Natasha doesn’t say anything, just gives her a stern look. Wanda quiets, blinking up at the woman as she focuses on remaining still, her fingers twitching as her eyes lock on the fabric that Natasha is slowly pulling up to reveal a smooth stomach and chiseled abs. 

To say that Natasha Romanoff is beautiful would be an understatement. Wanda can’t stop looking at her, every inch of skin that’s revealed sending arousal flooding through her. She practically feels her heart stop when Natasha pulls her shirt fully off, the sight of her breasts underneath a lacy black bra sending Wanda’s mind straight into a fuzzy headspace of need and pure lust. 

She doesn’t even register her own hands moving until she’s cupping the woman’s chest, her thumbs caressing the fabric of Natasha’s bra in an almost reverent manner. It only lasts a brief, glorious moment, before her wrists are firmly grasped and slammed back onto the mattress. 

“Ah ah,” Natasha tuts, her fingers squeezing harder for a moment. Her eyes are dark, and Wanda feels a spark of terror and arousal run through her. “What did I say?”

“To stay still,” Wanda answers, the words spilling out of her. She feels almost compelled to answer the woman, obedience thrumming in her veins. She doesn’t fight the tight grip on her wrists, but the feeling of being restrained sends her senses into overdrive in the best way possible.  

“Then be a good girl and obey,” Natasha says, her voice leaving no room for argument. 

Wanda nods, biting her lip as Natasha squeezes her wrists one last time before releasing them, her hands trailing down her body while her muscles tense from the electrifying touch. She has to remind herself to breathe, the sensation of Natasha’s fingers against her stomach and hips making her lightheaded with need. 

Those long fingers flex as the hem of her shirt slowly slides up her stomach, revealing her muscles clenching with need as her hips try to move under Natasha’s firm thighs. She would be embarrassed, but the heat within her is rising to an unbearable level.

The look in Natasha’s eyes when she finally pulls Wanda’s shirt free is nothing short of lustful and wanting, her movements becoming slightly rough as she palms the younger woman’s breasts, squeezing gently as she coaxes pretty whines and moans from Wanda’s mouth. 

It’s intoxicating, to feel and hear the woman below her reacting to every movement. Wanda’s hips are still futilely rutting against her thighs, the barest sensation against her throbbing clit driving her mad. 

Wanda can barely think, Natasha’s hands on her breasts sending warm arousal flooding through her. She can’t control the movements of her hips, her body reacting to the older woman’s touch as soft moans sound out. 

“Oh, please,” she whines, her voice barely above a whisper. It causes the hands around her breasts to squeeze, strong fingers finding her nipples through the fabric of her bra and toying with them. 

“Fuck,” Natasha breathes, her tongue wetting her lips slightly as she looks down at Wanda. “How could I refuse when you beg so prettily for me?”

The slightly possessive words send Wanda’s mind into a soft, fuzzy mess. She finds herself longing to hear more words come out of the older woman’s mouth, a need rising within her to obey every command that slips out of those sinful lips. 

She doesn’t get the chance to ask, Natasha’s fingers sliding over her body and working every nerve until she can feel electricity shooting beneath her skin. Her clit is throbbing, her underwear damp as she bucks her hips desperately up against Natasha’s strong thighs. 

“Tell me what you want.”

Wanda makes a noise of protest at the words. She doesn’t know what she wants. She wants Natasha’s hands to never leave her body, and she wants her tongue to keep licking up the side of her neck, and she wants the woman to fuck her and get rid of the throbbing between her legs. But, she can’t quite find the words, so she just whines and gasps out, “Touch me.”

With a low chuckle, Natasha softly nips Wanda’s neck and finally moves her fingers to break Wanda’s waistband.

Long fingers softly cup her, the pressure driving Wanda mad. She bucks her hips, but Natasha simply adjusts her position, laying halfway on top of the woman and pinning one of her legs between her own. 

“Let me take this off,” Natasha murmurs, pressing soft kisses on Wanda’s sternum before lightly biting the fabric of her bra that cups her chest. She pulls it away with her teeth, waiting for Wanda’s permission.

“Mhmm,” Wanda murmurs, regaining some of her breath. The sensations against her heating body and the intense look in Natasha’s eyes make her head spin, so she closes her eyes for a moment, reveling in the feeling of strong fingers undoing her bra. A small groan sounds out as the fabric falls away from her chest, and Wanda can’t help but smile, something in her soaring with happiness at the reaction. 

Teeth scrape lightly against her hard nipple, bolts of firey hot pleasure shooting through her body and pooling at her core. The woman seems enamored by her breasts, her tongue flicking over her nipples and sucking the tight nubs into her mouth, alternating every few minutes.

Wanda can barely stand it. She thinks she could cum from Natasha’s mouth and fingers working her breasts. Honestly, she’d never paid her chest much attention before, instead, she furiously worked sticky fingers over her clit while under the sheets, reading some trashy romance novel that was basically 130 pages of pure porn. Today was all about learning new things, she thought, her brain going blank again as Natasha teasingly bit into her nipple.

“Fuck,” Wanda moaned, not caring what she sounds like. “I need you to touch me, Natasha. Now.” 

“Oh, do you?”

The teasing tone set Wanda’s nerves aflame, her mind riddled with need as her clit throbbed desperately against the confines of her damp underwear. She was already close, the imminent orgasm drawing closer with each swipe of Natasha’s tongue and every twist of her fingers around Wanda’s sensitive nipples.

Something must have showed on her face, because Natasha quickly moved down, pressing quick kisses down Wanda’s stomach. She still took her time, removing Wanda’s pants and underwear from her wriggling hips, and kissing her inner thighs as she spread her legs. 

“You smell divine,” Natasha murmurs. Before Wanda can say anything in return, most likely some snarky remark about how the woman needed to start moving quicker, her tongue dragging through her folds. 

Oh. God. 

Wanda cums the second Natasha’s strong, hot tongue passes over her clit. The older woman makes a surprised sound, which is quickly followed by a throaty moan, her hands moving to wrap around Wanda’s thighs. 

“Keep going,” Wanda gasps out, her hips grinding against Natasha’s face, her fingers gripping the sheets beside her. Warm pleasure grows, her clit almost painfully overstimulated, but she can feel Natasha’s tongue slowly working her towards another orgasm.

Two long fingers prod at her soaked entrance, circling and gathering the slick wetness before smoothly sliding in. Wanda can barely feel them, her pussy so wet the sensation barely registers. That is until Natasha curls them perfectly against her g-spot, a wave of pleasure sweeping through her violently.

“You… I-” Wanda manages, her tongue feeling thick as she pants. Low, muffled moans sound out from where Natasha is licking her clit, her fingers pumping in and out of Wanda. The vibrations add to the pleasure, her orgasm drawing near again.

“Are you going to cum?” Natasha asks, detaching her lips for a moment to ask. Her face is slightly flushed, her lips glistening as she looks at Wanda with blown pupils. She slows her fingers as she waits for a response, a slight smirk on her face.

“Yes.”

“Beg for permission.”

Wanda blinks, her mouth falling open at the command. That was… hotter than she would like to admit. She feels her pussy clench around Natasha’s fingers, and she feels herself flush at the knowing look in the older woman’s eyes.

“Um, please?”

Natasha makes a tutting sound, shaking her head slightly as an intense look appears in her eyes. “You can do better than that,” she murmurs, watching Wanda’s face as she moves her fingers quickly. She curls them with each rough thrust, coaxing her orgasm closer. “Go on, Wanda. I know you can do it.”

“God, please, Natasha,” Wanda bursts out, the words spewing as she desperately chases her orgasm. “I’ve wanted you ever since that first day I stumbled into your office. I wanted you to bend me over your desk right then, and I need you to keep moving your fingers. Please, let me cum, I’ve been horny practically nonstop since our first meeting, I need you to just please-”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence, Natasha’s lips crashing down over hers and she murmurs her permission. Wanda can taste herself on the woman’s lips and tongue, and her mind goes blissfully blank as Natasha pumps rough and deep, bringing her orgasm to the surface quickly.

Pleasure washes over her, her pussy clamping down around Natasha’s fingers as she cums. It’s a full-body orgasm, her muscles clenching and releasing as she feels herself tremble from the force of it. Her legs are tight around Natasha’s waist, her fingers moving to tangle with the woman’s hair. Wanda can feel her eyes rolling back, her back arching as she feels her body convulse with pleasure, gibberish words, and moans streaming from her lips and into Natasha’s kiss. 

Those long fingers coax out every last drop of pleasure, Wanda’s slit giving one last pulse before she feels herself go boneless. Sinking into the mattress, she catches her breath, turning her head to look at Natasha. 

Dark green eyes gaze back at her, something intense about her gaze. Wanda doesn’t have the energy to think too hard about it, and her mind goes fuzzy again as Natasha slowly pulls her fingers out and brings them up to her lips.

“Suck,” she whispers, coating Wanda’s bottom lip with her own juices as she runs her fingers over it. 

Obeying, Wanda shamelessly sucks her arousal off Natasha’s fingers. She swirls her tongue around them and sucks, enjoying the hitch in the older woman’s breath when she does so. 

Pulling her fingers from Wanda’s mouth, Natasha reclaims her lips in a gentle kiss. It’s not as rough as before, but no less intense. She moves as they kiss, maneuvering Wanda until her head is propped up by pillows, laying half on top of Natasha as her hand rests on the woman’s stomach. The kiss ends slowly, Wanda’s eyes beginning to close of their own accord. 

“Do you want me to-” Wanda weakly gestures toward Natasha’s waistband.

The older woman chuckles, pressing a kiss against the top of Wanda’s head. “No, Wanda. Tonight was solely about you. There will be plenty of other opportunities for you to make me feel good.”

Smiling, Wanda feels her body relax completely, practically melting against the older woman’s comforting heat. She feels a pleasant buzz throughout her body, her face still flushed even as her heart rate slows. She tries to say something, her lips moving silently against the soft skin of Natasha’s collarbone. 

“Sleep, Wanda,” Natasha murmurs, pulling a thin sheet over them. Her fingers brush over Wanda’s cheek, tucking auburn hair behind her ear. “You were amazing, and I loved every second of tonight. I’ll be here when you wake.” 

Wanda doesn’t hear much after that, her tired body finally succumbing as she drifts off. 

—

When Wanda wakes, the room is dark, a soft, warm glow of light creeping through the crack underneath the bedroom door. She blinks, her mind still fuzzy and content as the afterglow lingers. She has no idea how long she’s slept, her fingers grabbing the thick fabric of a bathrobe conveniently placed at the foot of the bed. Through the crack in the curtains, Wanda can see the barest hint of light, a sign that dawn is approaching.

The soft sounds of piano soar through the air, the notes almost melancholic in nature. Wanda tilts her head, tying the bathrobe securely around her waist before gently pushing the door open and padding down the hall.

Natasha is bent over the piano, a single, dim lamp softly illuminating her red hair. Wanda can just barely see the curve of her jaw, her attention captured by the steady fingers flying across the keyboard. 

Somehow, they manage to draw emotion out with each note. Sadness lingers in the corners of the room, amplified with each note Natasha plays, her keys performing a somber dance. Wanda wonders what exactly the woman is thinking about as she plays, not a single sheet of music in front of her, only the smooth expanse of mahogany wood and ivory keys. 

The music stops, and Wanda jolts as she realizes her presence has been noticed.

“Sorry,” she whispers, seeing the barest hint of a frown flit across Natasha’s tired features. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Perhaps I should be the one saying that to you,” Natasha responds, a wry smile gracing her features as she wipes her hands on her soft sweatpants. She stands, every movement graceful as she does so. Wanda can’t help but notice the way her pants hang slightly off her hips, a hint of her smooth stomach and abs showing as she walks towards her. 

“Are you… alright?” Natasha asks, concern softening the sharp features of her face as she walks towards her.

Wanda flushes, thinking about the bone-deep ache making its way through her body, evidence of their activities earlier that evening. She finds herself nodding, her fingers running nervously over the tie of her bathrobe.

“Are you sure that you…” Wanda trails off, biting her lips momentarily before she sees the hungry look appear in Natasha’s eyes at the action. “Did you have a good time?”

A small smile makes its way onto Natasha’s face, and she reaches out an arm to wrap around Wanda’s waist as she nears. “Yes, Wanda. I had a good time,” she whispers, pulling the younger woman close. Her fingers cup Wanda’s waist, her other hand tangling with Wanda’s, their fingers intertwined as she kisses her knuckles. “It was everything I imagined you’d be like, and more. I can’t fathom ever tiring of you.”

Well. That’s the most romantic thing Wanda has ever heard in her life, and she blushes hotly, her words jumbling together as she attempts to form a sentence. 

Natasha chuckles, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss against her lips. “Come,” she murmurs, pulling Wanda back down the hallway, her thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “How about we cuddle until morning, and then I’ll make you whatever breakfast you’d like.”

“You can cook?” Wanda asks, mid-yawn. Her comment earns a light jab in her side, and she fails at hiding her smirk at the reaction from the normally composed woman.

“I can do many things, Wanda,” Natasha says, a slight smirk on her lips that tells Wanda exactly what the older woman is implying. She takes a deep breath, fighting her rising blush as they walk back into the bedroom, Natasha pulling her into her side as they slide under the sheets. Their limbs entangle, their bodies pressed close together as Natasha presses a soft kiss against Wanda’s head, the younger woman’s eyes already closing again, drifting off to sleep as she feels Natasha’s lips move against her.

“I could get used to this.”

---

Dm or comment to be added!

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[hopelesslygaysstuff]

Date idea! Sitting on my strap while I suck on your nipples until you’re pathetic and whimpering ♡

[ksandraxox]

She's not giving back that jacket..

Posting this here too but I'm more active on IG (ksandraxox.arts) ♡

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

I Hate You (I Know You Do)

pairing: emo!wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: You and Wanda Maximoff hate each other. That was obvious. But, after a enlightening night at a BDSM club, you both realize that your feelings run much deeper.

content warnings: physical fighting, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, shibari, restraints (magical)

word count: 9k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

A/N: Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate!

“We meet again.”

The soft, accented voice reverberates slightly in your ears, and you spit onto the cold ground beneath you. Something pulses hotly with anger in your side, and you groan slightly, praying you didn’t crack a rib. A bead of sweat rolls down your temple, sliding over your cheekbone and dripping off your jaw as you suck in a few deep breaths. 

This really wasn’t your specialty — the fighting. The white magic that flowed from your fingertips was far better suited to putting things back together. 

“I wish it was under better circumstances,” you manage, slowly getting to your feet. Your knee digs into the ground as you stand, your back aching as you raise yourself fully. 

There, in the shadows of the room, you see a dark figure. It’s familiar, the silhouette that radiates dark power, the red wisps lazily curling around it rivaling the soft glow your fingertips emit in the dim lighting. 

You’re in some sort of church, the pews cracked from your body slamming into them. It’s been long abandoned, the altar sinking into the foundation slightly as the cross hangs crooked above it. Ivy creeps up the wall, the scent of heavy dirt thick as you take a few more breaths, one of your hands lightly pressing against your side to check for broken ribs. 

“Aren’t you tired?” Wanda drawls, finally emerging from the shadows. Her irises glow red, her head tilted slightly as she steps forward. Her stance is relaxed, but you see the tight line of her shoulders and the way she positions her body like a cobra, ready to strike at any moment. The red wisps around her move languidly, but you don’t trust them for a moment. You’ve seen what destruction they can bring. 

“That’s a subjective question…” you begin, smirking at the way Wanda rolls her eyes. She moves closer, and you hate the way your body twitches with the instinct to back away. It makes you feel like a cornered animal, but the blood pumping wildly through your veins focuses your senses, and magic builds under your skin as you watch her. 

Wanda doesn’t seem to notice, her fingers trailing along the smooth wood of one of the pews near the back of the room. She brings a finger up, inspecting it as if the dust of a centuries-old building wasn’t to her standards. “Why do you insist on doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Fighting me,” Wanda says, her voice laced with genuine curiosity. “You know you’ll lose.”

You scoff at the confidence in her voice. She seems so sure of herself. You despise it, the way she radiates arrogance. It practically bleeds out of her, laced with every word she speaks and ingrained in every movement she makes. It makes you want to…

“Makes you want to what?” Wanda asks, her eyes shining at you with that eerie red glow. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you resent the way her lips turn up into a secret smile as if she knows something you don’t.

Fucking mind readers. 

“Get out of my head,” you respond, your voice gruff as you shift your weight. You didn’t miss the way Wanda’s eyes tracked your every movement, sharp and focused. Her red eyes lingered around your fingertips, something flickering across her face at the sight of your magic glowing beneath your skin. You couldn’t tell what it was, but it made you wary. 

“Make me.”

If you had the energy to growl or curse her, you would have. But, given that you’d just been thrown through a large stained glass window and landed directly on the unforgiving wood of a pew, you just scowled and readied your hands. 

“Just fight me already, you know the drill,” you grit out, stretching your neck until it pops, feeling the magic build beneath your skin. Her eyes flick between your hands and your eyes, her own stance becoming more rigid, the scarlet wisps in the air moving with more purpose around her. 

“Our usual dance, then?”

You don’t respond to her teasing words, your eyes narrowing as a scarlet tendril whips quickly towards you. She’d been trying to distract you, to catch you off guard. Unfortunately for her, you knew her tricks well. 

Countering quickly, you can’t help the wide grin that spreads across your lips as you feel your magic erupt from you. Most would assume that a witch with healing powers couldn’t do much damage, and it delighted you to prove them wrong. After all, being underestimated in addition to the element of surprise was never a bad thing to have. 

A large, glowing shield surrounds you, sending bolts of electricity and pure magic back through the tendril that Wanda had thrown at you. She flicks her wrist, annoyance crossing her features as she gathers her magic between her hands. Her silver rings glint as she does, her eyes focused on you. 

“I do have one question,” you call out, your voice reverberating around the old, cracked walls around you. The structure shudders as she hurls a ball of magic in your direction. You can feel your hair sticking to the back of your neck as your muscles strain from the exertion of deflecting her powerful blows. 

The walls reflect red and white as you both fling bolts and tendrils of pure magic at each other. Her brows are furrowed, her feet moving her around the room as she deflects your attacks and sends her own magic back in retaliation. 

One of her wisps grazes your arm, throwing off your attack and forcing you to raise a shield against her sudden onslaught of magic. It batters against the wall of white magic you hold in front of you, and you feel yourself weakening slightly. Fuck. 

“You had a question?” She asks, her chest heaving and her words slightly breathy from magical strain.

Smirking, you prepare your next move as you speak, your voice slightly teasing as you ask, “Do you put on eyeliner just for our fights or do you normally prefer to look like a raccoon?”

“Maybe I just want to look good when I pummel your ass into the ground,” she bites out, throwing a flurry of small, needle-like wisps in your direction. Her eyes are focused and bright, her attention solely on you. It’s thrilling and terrifying at the same time. 

Dodging the attack, you roll on the cracked concrete beneath you and ignore the dull throb of pain in your side. You stumble slightly as you stand, one of Wanda’s wisps clipping you in the shoulder as you fling your next attack in her direction. 

The net-like magic hits her straight on, tangling with her hands as her eyes widen in surprise. You want to say something about her being an amateur, even though you’ve been fighting her for a few months now, losing and winning multiple times, but a sharp stab of pain in your side takes your breath away.

You fall, your lips parted as you desperately gasp for breath, your fingers prodding at your side as you deduce that you definitely have a cracked rib. Wanda struggles with the magical net, your raw power surrounding her for a moment before she throws it off, her fingers tingling from the direct contact with your magic. 

Had you been looking at her, you would have seen the conflict on her face, the war behind her eyes as she watched you. Her gaze lingered over your trembling fingers as you gripped the edge of a pew, your knuckles white from effort as you inhaled weakly. Your knees sink slightly into the concrete and exposed dirt, your head bowed and your face tingling from a lack of oxygen as your other hand clutches at your side, fingers glowing weakly as you try to muster enough power to heal yourself. 

“If you insist on fighting me,” Wanda begins, blinking as you raise your head to look at her. Your eyes shine, your cheeks flushed from the effort of fighting her, and she falters for a brief moment. “At least make it worth my while.”

Through hazy eyes, you watch her turn, the scarlet magic around her disappearing as you blink in an effort to focus. Anger makes its way through you, sitting heavily in your chest as you process her words. Your head spins, your fingers trembling as you use the last of your energy to mutter a healing spell. The pain slowly subsides as she walks away, her footsteps dampened as your ears begin to ring. 

A brief stab of pain causes you to gasp out as your rib snaps back into place, and you can’t tell if Wanda pauses or not, her head turning just enough for you to see the slight outline of her chin. Then, she’s gone, her presence fading from the room as you let your body droop slightly, all of your energy focused on healing your injury.

It takes hours to fully heal, your damp forehead resting against the broken pew as your chest heaves from the effort of using so much magic. You can’t help but smile, remembering the way Wanda’s face had glowed from her scarlet magic, your heart speeding slightly for a moment before you shake your head. The woman had flung you through a window, for fucks sake. It was no use to let your impertinent thoughts linger on her. You quickly shove your thoughts away, exhaling slowly as you stand. 

Now all you had to do was make it home without passing out.

—

You can hear soft music playing as the door opens, a man stepping out and shutting it quickly, the warm light from inside fading as he does so. The alleyway you’re in is slightly isolated, the sound of cars only a few blocks away, a single street lamp shining dimly near the street. The music cuts off abruptly, a testament to the soundproofing of the walls. The man steps in front of the door and holds out his hand expectantly.

“Nice to see you, Richard,” you say, pleased at the slight upturn at the corners of his lips. You have to crane your neck up slightly to look at his face, his large frame blocking the door completely. Handing over your ID and membership card, you quickly scan the alleyway, shoving your hands in your pockets. A slight breeze tickles the back of your neck, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched.

Richard grunts in response, checking your ID. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. With how often you frequent this club, you’d expect this process to be a lot shorter. 

“How’s your husband?”

Richard looks up at that, handing your ID back to you as a rare smile makes its way onto his face, his tattoo stretching from where it creeps up his neck and meets his cheek. He clears his throat, glancing over your membership card as a formality and giving it back to you.

“His birthday was two days ago,” he says, his voice soft. He crosses his arms, and you notice his muscles flexing through his jacket. His blue eyes look dark in the dim lighting, but you can see the way they crinkle in the corners as he speaks. “We had a nice celebration.”

You smile back at him, marveling at how many words he’d spoken. Richard doesn’t give you much of a chance to respond, turning slightly and opening the door, shuffling back to allow you to walk through the entrance as you squeeze past him.

The door shuts with a solid thud, and you feel yourself relax, the sensation of being watched fading as you take in the familiar surroundings. Warm lamps hang from the ceiling, casting soft shadows on the various individuals scattered across the room. Some sit languidly on couches, while others stand and nurse their drinks. You nod at a couple you recognize, smiling at the excited wave you receive from the young man, his mouth covered by a muzzle as he kneels beside his partner. She tugs gently at his leash, a reminder to behave, and lazily raises a hand in your direction.

Fuck, you need a drink.

Making your way to the bar, you check your watch, noting that you still have about twenty minutes before the main event starts. Typically, you frequented this club for casual sex, loving the power exchanges as you tried different things. You’d heard about this club, The Crimson Crow, from a fellow witch, and loved it ever since. 

“The usual?” The bartender asks, polite as ever. You nod, scanning the room as you let the soft jazz music wash over you. The main area was more crowded than usual tonight, the cacophony of voices louder than you were used to. You recognized multiple people, but a majority of the crowd were fresh faces. It made sense, given the nature of tonight's main event.

“Are you excited for the show?” 

Turning at the chipper tone, you smile widely, “Agatha, I’m glad you could make it!”

“Wouldn’t miss a scene like this for the world,” she drawls, sliding easily into the spot next to yours, the number of people crowding the bar making it a bit difficult for you to hear her. She looks wonderful, her hair glossy and makeup dark, a sign that she’s in full “Dominatrix Mode”, as you like to call it.

“Where is Rio tonight?” You ask, nodding gratefully at the bartender as he slides your drink over, your fingers circling the rim as you take a sip. You almost moan at the taste, the slightly salty brine from the olives making your dirty martini perfect. He makes a gesture, a signal to ask if you want to start a tab, and you nod and flash him a quick thumbs up, before returning your attention to Agatha. 

She takes a lengthy sip of her whiskey, licking her lips before jerking her head towards one of the couches. You follow, your hand clutching her upper arm as she squeezes past the slowly growing crowd. Her coven has saved a spot for her, so you squeeze in next to her, unbothered by the closeness as your thighs touch. Her arm wraps around the back of the couch, and you settle in, tilting your head as she takes another long drink. 

“She’ll be here soon,” Agatha finally responds, smiling slightly in your direction before leaning in, “She had to… deal with a situation.”

You nod, chuckling slightly as you share a knowing look. Her eyes linger just a bit too long on your face, and you flush for a moment as you take another sip of your martini. You can feel the glances from her coven. Lilia isn’t even trying to hide her curiosity, and Jen is trying - and failing - to be subtle as she watches from the corner of her eye. 

Agatha was one of your closest friends, truly. You’d met at this very club, years ago, the magical powers within you drawing you two together. Agatha had absolutely ravished you, her dominance overpowering and her words wicked in your ear - her fingers and strap had brought you to your climax more times than you could count. You’d enjoyed every second of it, but hadn’t quite felt the genuine romantic connection you were looking for. 

Besides, Agatha had met Rio not long after, and those two were inseparable. 

You were pretty sure that Agatha was part of a mafia, her coven just a front for their illicit activities. However, if you’d learned one thing over the years, it was to keep your mouth shut and your nose out of other people’s business. Besides, Rio scared the hell out of you, and you’d have run for the hills if you weren’t aware of the tight leash Agatha kept her on. Literally.

“We haven’t had a demonstration for a while,” Agatha notes, seeming to savor her drink as she watches you over the rim. She tilts her head at you, her brows furrowing. “Apparently there’s a new Dominatrix in town, but nobody knows who she is.”

At that, you take a deep breath. New people in town always made you uneasy, your deep-rooted trust issues making themselves known with every new face you encountered. Tonight, you decided to shake it off, ridding yourself of the uneasy feeling that wrapped itself around your shoulders like a cloak. It lingered, refusing to let go. 

You took another sip of your drink.

The mindless chatter around you helped, and you nursed your drink as you sat and listened. Agatha did the same, occasionally checking her phone when Rio would text with an update. You didn’t snoop too much, but you got enough information to know that Agatha’s wife would be joining you shortly. 

Agatha’s hand never strayed far from you, her fingers strumming on the back of the couch near your head. You felt Rio’s presence before you saw her, a heady sort of scent descending as she came into view. Something about her always triggered your instinct to run, but you simply smiled and nodded at her as she seated herself in Agatha’s lap. 

By the time you’d finished your martini, the mass of people gathered in the lounge area had slowly been trickling into the adjacent, larger room. You weren’t particularly worried about finding a seat. Downing the rest of your drink, you set the glass gently on the table before standing and gesturing to Agatha and her coven.

“Ladies, shall we?”

Rio’s eyes sparkled, and she smiled widely at you. It was unnerving, but you simply smiled back as she stood, pulling Agatha with her. The rest of the coven was quick to follow, filing into the next room as you took a few deep breaths and tried to convince yourself that nothing bad was going to happen. 

The feeling of being watched hadn’t faded completely, but the slight buzz of alcohol in your system helped you ignore it. For the most part. 

Somebody near the stage area of the showroom was giving announcements, reminding everyone that the event would be starting soon as ushers led people to their seats. You nodded at one of them, their eyes lighting up in recognition as they bowed slightly, their arm outstretched towards the front row.

The crowd was murmuring amongst themselves as you walked towards your seat, a buzz of excitement present as the light dimmed slightly, a sort of spotlight appearing in stage. You sat, crossing your legs and focusing your attention. A heavy silence fell on the crowd, the anticipation so thick you could practically taste it. 

A young woman walked on stage, smiling at the crowd as they politely cheered, waving as she took her position in the center of the stage. She knelt, her blonde hair reflecting the spotlight slightly as she did so, her only clothing a comfortable-looking pair of underwear. Her hands rested palm-up on her thighs, her back straight, chest out, and chin raised high. She took a deep breath, preparing for the scene and calming any nerves she had. 

The crowd fell completely silent, only the rare shuffling of feet and the occasional cough sounding out as they waited. You felt your pulse racing, a sense of slight dread washing over you. You had a sinking feeling in your gut, like you knew who was about to walk out from the wings, and you weren’t sure whether to be frightened or aroused. 

You could sense her before you saw her, the scent of vanilla somehow making its way to your nose. The familiar energy of her scarlet wisps cracked in the air around you, even without a visual indication of them. Footsteps sounded out, and you recognized them as the heeled boots she sometimes wore to your fights. 

The crowd waited with hushed anticipation and barely concealed excitement, and you scoffed as you sat back, crossing your arms as your magic rose to your fingertips. You could feel Agatha’s eyes on you, observing your body language as the Dominatrix walked on stage. 

Wanda Maximoff stepped into the light, an easy smile on her face as she raised a hand to the crowd. A thunderous round of applause erupted, a feeling of excitement washing over the crowd at the new Dominatrix. You remained still, your eyes trailing over her. 

You had to admit, she looked good. The eyeliner she normally put on was nowhere to be found, a subtle smokey eye in its place, with just the barest hint of a red lipstick and a slight highlighter dusting her cheeks. It wasn’t enough to cover her freckles, and somehow it made her green eyes pop even more. The red leather jacket she was wearing perfectly accentuated her chest, waist, and hips, her silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. 

Green eyes met yours, and her smile morphed into a satisfied smirk as you let a scowl slide across your face. Wanda gave you a once over, before winking and turning her attention to the blonde submissive still kneeling obediently on the stage. 

A flash of hot anger ran through you. Who did she think she was?

Cool fingers touch the back of your neck, and you blink, ripping your gaze away from where Wanda was stroking the top of the submissive’s head and meeting Agatha’s gaze. She pointedly glanced down at your hands, and you quickly shoved your glowing fingertips into your pockets, praying that nobody had seen. 

“You know her,” Agatha states, her fingers still resting on the back of your neck. The coldness radiating from them helps ground you, your anger slowly dissipating the longer you look at her. 

“You could say that,” you grumble, returning your attention to the stage. 

The submissive now sits on a stool, her back straight and her eyes locked on Wanda. She’s the embodiment of obedience, her chest slightly red, a sign that she was feeling flushed. You can see her eyes glancing down at Wanda’s figure slightly, her lips turned up in the ghost of a smile. 

“Welcome,” Wanda speaks out, projecting her voice slightly. “Tonight, Elenor and I will be sharing with you all a shibari scene. This will not be an educational scene, so please, learn rope safety and attend one of the excellent educational classes this establishment offers before attempting this with your partner.”

She goes on to describe the types of rope she’ll be using, her fingers moving confidently as she talks to the audience. You clench your hands inside your pockets, feeling Agatha’s fingers gently rubbing the back of your neck. It’s soothing, and distracting you from the boiling anger you can feel bubbling in your chest. 

You focus on the features of her face. Her high cheekbones glitter with a subtle highlight, her lips reddened as she speaks. You find yourself mesmerised, your attention focused solely on her as she begins to wrap the rope around the blonde submissive. Her fingers stand out, moving confidently, like she’s handled roped for years. You wonder how long she’s been in the BDSM scene, given her knowledge. 

She looks young, and you find yourself noticing details about her that you hadn’t seen before. You hadn’t realised how many freckles dusted her cheeks. They were light, covered slightly by her makeup. Her eyes sparkled slightly from the lights as she spoke, glancing between the blonde submissive and the audience as she continued to wrap the ropes securely around her. 

Every so often, those green irises would flick over to you. 

Your heart thudded each time, a spark of… nervousness? No, it had to be hatred. It must be. Something would course through you with each small glance she sent your way. You watched her notice Agatha’s fingers on the back of your neck, her brow furrowing ever so slightly, a crinkle appearing between them. It made you want to smile, and you wondered if she was jealous. 

Wait. 

Why the fuck would you care if she was jealous?

A gasp rang out, the blonde girl’s lips parted in surprise as her pupils dilated. Wanda’s fingers were gripping the ropes, pulling her into a crawling position. The ropes formed a pentagram on her chest, her nipples hard and her breasts accented by the beautiful red rope wrapped around her torso. The girl’s eyes were locked on Wanda, her chest heaving slightly as Wanda dragged her forward, forcing her into a slow crawl across the stage. 

“As you can see,” Wanda’s voice carries amidst the silence, a note of anticipation from the crowd weighing heavily in the air. “The submissive is able to be led by this design, with no risk of injury to the neck or any major nerves.”

As if to prove her point, she jerks the girl forward quickly, her nose just barely brushing against hers. You see her smirk, and you immediately want to wipe it off. You know exactly what she looks like up close like that, you’ve been in enough fights with her to get in her personal space. 

Even now, you could remember every detail about those times. The way her warm breath washes over your lips, her brows furrowed as her eyes bore into yours. The faint scent of vanilla and sweat reaching your nose as her scarlet wisps angrily whipped through the air. Funnily enough, neither of you ever walked away with serious injuries. 

You refused to think about why that might be. 

Wanda Maximoff was evil. You hated her. That was it. Nothing else. 

Green eyes flicker over to you, and you mentally curse. You’d forgotten that she could read minds. You could have sworn you saw a glimpse of hurt reflected in those eyes you knew so well, and your chest ached for a moment. Then, they hardened, the familiar look of hatred and anger seeping back into them before she took a deep breath and returned her attention to the submissive. 

“What was that?” Agatha murmurs, her lips close to your ear. 

You huff, the jarring motion of your teeth grinding startling you slightly. “A distraction.” You answer, ignoring Agatha’s raised eyebrow, her face a mask of curiosity. She makes a small humming noise, turning her head and watching Wanda. 

The rest of the presentation goes by quickly after that, your chest burning and your eyes narrowed as you watch Wanda. At one point, she rolls her sleeves up, revealing a multitude of bracelets adorning her wrists, some made of thin strips of leather and others of dainty silver metal to match her rings. You try not to let your eyes linger for too long, your mind warring with itself as you silently seethe. 

The crowd begins to murmur, bodies shifting as the presentation comes to a close. The blonde submissive returns to her previous spot on the stage, kneeling with her palms on her thighs and her chest puffed out proudly. Wanda’s ropes wrap around her, twisting perfectly to accentuate her body, and security moves closer to warn the audience to only look, but not touch. You see Wanda take a small bow, thunderous applause erupting before she slips behind the curtain, the lingering weight of her presence still suffocating you.

“Impressive,” Rio mutters, her hand possessively making its way onto Agatha’s thigh. “We should try that.”

Agatha smirks, finally removing her hand from the back of your neck as she turns her full attention to her wife. You knock back the rest of your martini, already glancing towards the lounge area where the bar awaits. The only thing you wanted to do now was have another drink and flirt with some hot, dominant women.

—

The air is heavy, a musky sort of scent mixed with the sharp tang of alcohol lazily drifting through the air as you lazily run your fingers around the rim of your empty glass. Your fingers gently press into your temple as you rest your head on your hand, your gaze roaming around the room for a moment. 

Rio is on top of Agatha’s lap, her head thrown back as those sinfully full, purple-stained lips suck at her skin. You smirk slightly, running your eyes around the filled room once more before returning your attention to the woman in front of you. You had finished your drink half an hour ago, a pleasant buzz sitting beneath your skin as you took in her features. 

She was pretty, her thigh pressed against yours as you sat closely on the couch. She was talking slowly, something about her PhD thesis. You only half listened, mostly focused on her red lips and the way her eyeliner formed small, sharp wings. It reminded you of…

“Ma’am?” A voice startled you out of your thoughts, and you flushed slightly. The woman beside you jumped at the intrusion, her eyebrows rising higher at the way the security guard leans down to whisper in your ear. 

“Your presence has been requested in one of our private suites,” the man says, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. He gently takes your empty glass, your fingertips easily letting go as you blink at him.

“Oh,” you say, somewhat in a daze. Then, you let your curiosity get the better of you, standing and nodding slightly at Agatha when her eyes catch yours. You mutter a quick goodbye to the woman still seated on the couch, but her attention has already been directed elsewhere, her lips still moving as she begins to chat another woman’s ear off. 

Smirking slightly, and shaking your head in amusement, you allow yourself to be led from the room. The back of the man’s hair is slightly shiny, and you stare at it as he leads you into the hallway, the door shutting firmly and muffling most of the noise from the main lounge area. 

You’d been back here before, although never to a private suite. There are a multitude of bedrooms, cleaned in between every guest. You’ve fallen into the mattress quite a few times, exploring different parts of your submission and trying new kinks with more women than you could count. They were all dominant, and you enjoyed most of your experiences, but you’d never met with someone elite enough to use a private suite. 

Safe to say, your curiosity was piqued. 

The atmosphere changed slightly as you followed the security guard further into the club, the warm, dim light in the hallway seeming to stretch forever. The doors grew further apart, signaling that the rooms were getting bigger, and you couldn’t hear the sound of your own footsteps as you padded softly on a thick, plush carpet. 

“Room S,” the man says, stepping neatly to the side and gesturing toward the door handle. The bronze lettering stands out against the dark door, the letter S shining dully in the light as you search for something to say. 

Nodding once, the man gestures toward the door again before smartly turning on his heel and walking back in the direction you’d come from. You simply blink at him, watching his retreating form for a moment before returning your attention to the door. 

You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you readjust your shirt and run your fingers through your hair. Your fingers wrap around the door handle, the cold metal grounding you as you turn it, silently entering the room. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” a voice drawls, and you freeze as the door shuts behind you. There, on the bed with a leg casually crossed over the other and a rather bored expression on her face, sits Wanda. 

White magic fills the room before you can even fully process her presence. Your fingers burn with raw energy, your eyes focused on her as your stance changes. You barely even recognize it as a fighting stance, your mind instinctively shutting down so she won’t be able to read your thoughts. 

“Relax,” she says, her accent wrapping around the word. She runs her hand through her hair, tossing it over her shoulder before smoothly standing, tilting her head at you. 

It’s then that you realize there are no scarlet tendrils or wisps present. Those green eyes are narrowed, wary slightly as she pointedly glances at your hands. She’s still wearing the same outfit you’d seen earlier, and you feel your brows furrow in slight confusion when she begins to slowly remove her rings. 

The metal clangs together as she tosses them into a wooden bowl on the stand near the bed, her movements languid even as you observe the tight line of her shoulders. You lower your hands, reeling your magic back in. You can feel it just beneath the surface of your skin, racing and twisting as it waits for your command. 

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Nice outfit,” Wanda remarks, completely ignoring your question. She pulls her bracelets off, dropping them into the bowl before turning to face you. She raises her hands lazily in mock surrender, before slowly stepping toward you. “Too bad I’m going to ruin it by the end of the night.”

You chuckle, watching her as she continues to step closer, your own feet moving backward in response. “It’s not like you haven’t done that before,” you say, remembering all the times she’d ripped through your shirt with her hands, or her scarlet magic had left singes in your pants from where a tendril had wrapped around your leg. 

“Ah,” Wanda’s eyes glint slightly, a look in them that you can’t decipher. “I’m going to ruin them in a different way tonight.”

Narrowing your eyes, you open your mouth to question her further, but instead of words, a small gasp escapes you as your back hits the door. Your fingers meet the solid wood, the rough texture molding itself to your back as Wanda steps closer. 

She’s walking slowly, as if approaching a cornered animal. Or perhaps, in better terms, like a predator advancing on its trapped prey. You want to run, your mind screaming at you to move, but all you do is stay still, your muscles as tight as a drawn bowstring. The lack of full breaths is making your head spin, and you blame that on the way your eyes glance around her face and settle on her lips. 

Wanda’s lips are turned into a small smile, the red stain on them mocking you as your traitorous tongue quickly licks your own lips. You can’t tell what you want, all you know is that the scent of vanilla is engulfing you and you can feel your mind growing fuzzier and Wanda’s green eyes are hot as they rake down your body with intent and her palms are suddenly resting on the door beside your head and her lips are right fucking there and-

Your lips tingle when she presses her own lips against yours. It’s brief, only for a moment, but you feel something inside of you snap as you come to a realization. She pulls back, searching your wide eyes with her own as she waits with bated breath. 

“I disliked seeing another woman with her hands on you,” she confesses, the dark look in her eyes warring with confusion as she tilts her head. The action sends a terrifying chill down your spine, but this time its mixed with something warm and electrifying. “It made me want to…” Wanda doesn’t finish the sentence, simply shaking her head as her mouth opens and closes, frustration building on her perfect features. 

Fuck. 

Your heart pounds as you raise slightly sweaty palms to meet her waist. It’s somehow both hard and soft beneath your fingers, the curve of her body tantalizing as you slowly pull her closer. Her eyes snap up to meet yours, and you feel your body burn as you remember the way she’s pulled that blonde submissive around by the rope she’d so carefully wrapped around her chest and torso. 

“I hate you,” the words are murmured, almost directly against Wanda’s lips. They’re true, you do hate her. You hate everything she stands for, a vigilante who destroys whatever she deems as morally corrupt, without thinking of the consequences afterward or the people her actions affect. But, you don’t want anyone else to have her. She’s yours. You’ve fought her enough times to have memorized the way her body moves, the microexpressions on her face telling you everything you need to know about her thoughts, her fingers feeling familiar against your skin. 

The burning feeling that started from the moment she walked on stage had only intensified once she touched that blonde submissive. You recognized what it was now. It wasn’t hatred, like you’d originally labeled it as. Rather, it was a deep-rooted, intense feeling of possessiveness. After all, who besides you was a constant in Wanda’s life? You’d done enough research on her to know that she didn’t have a coven, family, or even a regular group of friends around her. 

“I hate you too,” Wanda whispers, and in that instant, you know that she feels the same way about you that you feel for her. 

No more words need to be said, the energy rippling beneath your skin surging forward as you dig your fingers into her waist and pull her flush against you. Her lips meet yours, a desperate give-and-pull of teeth biting furiously and tongues meeting as your nerves roared at the sensation. 

She felt better than you could have ever imagined, your body already used to hers being close by. Normally, her weight would be on top of you or underneath you as you scrabbled desperately for an upper hand. Tonight, however, you felt your body slipping easily into its submissive role, your mind fighting to stay above the fuzzy headspace you knew so well.

“Who is that woman?” Wanda asks you, one hand tangling with your head and yanking your head back as a throaty gasp escapes you. You feel your skull connect with a dull thud against the heavy door, her teeth scraping up the sides of your neck as she waits for a response. 

“Which one?” 

“The one with her hands all over you,” Wanda snarls, her hand tightening in your hair. 

You simply laugh, your hands slipping under her shirt and raking down her sides as you lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of her body against yours. Her chest presses against you, and you can feel her breasts move with every heaving breath she takes, her lips sucking dark, possessive marks into your skin. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, there are lots of women who’ve had their hands all over me.”

“I’m sure that’s true,” Wanda remarks, her voice acidic as she pulls back. Her green eyes search yours, the smokey makeup look only serving to make them stand out even more. You think it’s hot, and you roll your eyes at the smirk that rolls onto her face. 

You hated that she could read your thoughts. 

“I’m talking about the one with the purple eye makeup and the crazy brown hair with her hand practically glued to the back of your neck during my presentation,” she hisses, bringing her lips close to your ear. You shiver, goosebumps erupting as she licks the shell of your ear. “Ring any bells? Or are you just as empty-headed as you look?”

“I never took you for the jealous type,” you respond, ignoring her question and smiling at the way she pulls back, an offended look on her face. Before she can respond, you surge forward, forcing her to walk backward toward the bed as your lips connect once again. 

This time, you let her dominate the kiss, focusing more on removing her red jacket. The leather is slightly cold, and Wanda makes impatient noises as she helps you slide it off her arms, before wrapping her hands around the back of your neck in a eerily similar fashion to Agatha’s. Her fingers dig in, and you can’t suppress the whine that escapes you. 

Wanda eagerly swallows the noise, her teeth biting down on your bottom lip before she harshly sucks it between her own. She releases it with a pop, her eyes intent as she looks at you. Your fingers pause briefly from where they’re pulling up her shirt, and she allows you to remove it before her hands return to your neck, one of them wrapping loosely around it.

“I’m not jealous, I simply don’t want another woman touching what’s mine,” Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright with need and something darker that you don’t really want to try and understand in this moment.

“Oh, I’m yours, am I?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” You pull back, allowing her to remove your shirt. Her fingernails scrape lightly against your sides as she does so, and you resent the wave of arousal that shoots through you at the sensation. “In that case, I suppose you’re mine as well, then.”

“We’ve always belonged to each other,” Wanda states, as though it's a fact. Although, you suppose, it is a fact. You don’t get the chance to respond before her hands grip you firmly and twirl you around, the back of your knees hitting the mattress. 

With a smirk, Wanda presses a hand against your sternum and shoves you. 

The air in your lungs escapes all at once as your back hits the mattress, and you feel Wanda’s deft fingers easily undoing your belt and sliding your pants down your legs. True to her word, something rips as she does so, but she pays it no mind. You don’t even have the capacity to feel ashamed or upset about it. The only thing you feel is intense, hot arousal and a lingering sense of anger. It feels almost like an echo now, but it fuels you enough to reach up and grab Wanda by the straps of her bra, bringing her body down against yours. 

A scuffle ensues, one that leaves you breathless with your head near the headboard, your hair sticking slightly to your damp forehead. The brief battle for control ends with Wanda’s hands firmly wrapped around your wrists as she pins you to the mattress, her thighs squeezing your hips as she holds you in place. Her pants were lost in the struggle, the two of you observing each other with your chests heaving and lingerie somehow still fully intact. 

The milky expanse of her smooth skin takes your breath away all over again, and you moan when she dips her head and runs her tongue over your collarbones. Your arousal is burning you from the inside out, your skin flushed and nerves racing with electricity. The magic beneath your skin glows slightly, and you pretend not to notice Wanda’s soft sound of awe.

“Fuck me,” you say, your tone urgent. “I need your fingers, your mouth… anything. But I need it now, Wanda.”

Those green eyes light up, and she pretends to think, ignoring your rising annoyance. “Hmm,” she pulls at the strap of your bra with her teeth, letting it snap back against your skin. You flinch, the pain sending a wave of arousal through you. “Why don’t you beg for it.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Wanda’s eyes are hard, a cold expression in them as she pulls back. Her scarlet magic appears, a tendril quickly wrapping around your wrists and pulling them toward the headboard, restraining you. She pulls back, biting her bottom lip as she traces those long fingers against the fabric of your bra. “Beg.”

Bucking your hips, you attempt to throw her off, frustration building when the movement only causes her pelvis to grind harder against yours. Even more infuriating is the smirk that slides across her face, her fingers twisting as her magic wraps around your bra, the scarlet wisps contrasting perfectly with your skin.

Feeling the slight burn and tingle of her magic as it rolls over your bra and brushes against your sensitive skin, you gasp when it ingrains itself with the fabric and suddenly burns. In the blink of an eye, your bra disappears, your nipples rock-hard and aching to be touched. 

Wanda’s fingers glide over your exposed skin, her fingers mere centimeters away from where you need her. Your body craves stimulation, and you feel tears of frustration prick the corners of your eyes as you gaze up at her. 

“Please,” you manage, hating how weak you sound. Your voice is the wrong pitch, and it’s all breathy. You never thought you’d actually be asking Wanda Maximoff for anything, much less begging for it, but fuck you needed this.

“You can do better than that,” Wanda states, her tone icy as she looks down at you with what seems like disinterest. You can see right through it. Her pupils are dilated, and her breath keeps catching every time she lets her eyes roam over your flushed face and nude chest. Her fingers slowly cup the underside of your breasts, her thumbs practically brushing over your nipples, and the sudden desire to be touched mixed with anger sweeps over you. 

“Fuck you, Wanda. Give me what I want,” you snarl, pulling harshly at the scarlet tendril restraining your hands. White magic spills from your palms, circling the air around you as Wanda throws her head back and laughs. “Please, just… please touch me.”

Green eyes widen as Wanda looks back down at you, her gaze flitting to the white magic surrounding the two of you. Her expression flickers at the realization that your magic isn’t attacking her, but rather just manifesting because of your strong desires and emotions. She smirks, her thumbs finally brushing over your nipples as she says, “That’ll do, I suppose.”

The moan that erupts from you sounds nothing like you. It’s high-pitched and needy, and Wanda’s fingers begin to pinch and roll your nipples. You’ve never had this type of reaction, this burning need for stimulation, and every action she does only stokes the fire building within you. 

Wanda wastes no time, quickly descending your body with her hot tongue and deft fingers, peeling your damp underwear away from you and choking back a moan at the taste of you. Her tongue is strong, collecting your arousal and flicking over your protruding clit as your hips thrust against her face. Her fingers grip your hips, holding you down and leaving faint bruises from the effort. 

She loves that she’s getting to see you like this, a burning sort of jealousy rising with the obsessive possessiveness she already feels towards you. There’s a reason why she keeps finding you, or letting you find her only to end the interaction with a fight. You’re hers, and you have been since the moment she laid eyes on you. How disappointing it was that you continued to fight her. 

Smirking, Wanda let her lips create suction over your clit, pulling it between her teeth and gently circling her tongue around it while your soft pleas turned into incoherent babbles as you felt your orgasm rise. She removes one of her hands from your hips, collecting your arousal on her fingertips before smoothly sliding two fingers deep inside you. 

“That’s right,” she says, watching you with glinting eyes, a scarlet hue glowing slightly as she scans your surface thoughts, sensing your orgasm is near. “Take my fingers like the desperate slut that you are. I bet you’d let anyone fuck you, isn’t that right?”

You can’t comprehend what she’s saying, but you nod anyway, whines sounding out as your lips tremble. You’ve never been this aroused, and the quickly rising orgasm threatens to tear through you at any moment. 

“Not anymore,” Wanda mutters, curling her fingers while her thumb begins to move quickly and firmly against your clit, your moans cutting off as your body is wracked with pleasure. “Only I get to have you like this. I’m the only one who gets to touch you, that’s the way it always should have been. God, you’re so fucking infuriating. Always on a moral high ground and goading me into fighting. I fucking hate you and your perfect smile and your raw power that makes my skin tingle whenever you get too close. And don’t even get me started on how pathetic you look after I’ve beaten you, your eyes all glazed and your face flushed.”

Wanda suddenly changes positions, her face hovering right over yours as she continues to pump her fingers in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. “Only I should be able to see you like that. And so far, only I have.” She chuckles at your slightly confused expression.

“How many bad guys have you fought in the last two years?” Wanda asks, her voice slightly condescending, as if she was asking a child a simple question. 

“Uh… you.” Those are the only words you can manage, your brain trying to think of any others, but the blinding pleasure forcing its way through your body scatters your thoughts every time you manage to gather them. 

“That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said all night,” Wanda remarks, a biting tone in her voice. “Well done. And who do you think was keeping all the other bad guys away from you?”

“You,” the words are whispered as the realization hits you. 

Wanda smiles at you, a dangerous edge to it. “Exactly. Because you’re mine. Even though I fucking hate you, and I’ll fight you until you finally admit defeat and stop ruining all my plans, you belong to me. Is that clear?”

You shake your head, disbelief showing on your face, even as your lips part in pleasure. Your mind is warring with itself again, her words sinking in even as your orgasm draws close, your body close to falling over the edge. It burns within you, your muscles tensing in anticipation as you shudder and tremble beneath her. 

“Say it and I’ll let you cum,” Wanda says, her voice sickly sweet. Bending down, she brushes her lips against yours, keeping the same steady rhythm as she fucks you with talented fingers. You want to kiss her and shove her away at the same time. It’s a trap, but at this point, you’d do anything to cum. And she knows it.

“I’m yours,” you whisper. 

Scarlet magic glows for a moment, something ancient and binding swirling through the air that neither of you fully understand, but you don’t quite care. Wanda’s smile turns triumphant, her fingers finally coaxing you over the edge as her other hand wraps loosely around your throat. Her green eyes glint, something dark behind them as she murmurs, “That’s right, you’re mine.” 

The pleasure that consumes you is blinding, your vision covered in white spots, a scarlet wisp dancing across your vision as your muscles seize from the force of your orgasm. You can feel Wanda’s fingers coaxing every last drop of pleasure from you, a bead of sweat dripping down your neck only to be licked up by a warm tongue. Your ears ring, your magic seeping out of every pore and wrapping around both you and Wanda, the scorching raw power making your skin feel as though it had been rubbed raw.

It’s utterly intoxicating.

By the time you can see and breathe properly again, Wanda is already licking her fingers clean, moaning softly at the taste. The sight could have brought you over the edge again, but your body protests, relaxing fully as you finally feel her scarlet restraints fade, your arms feeling like jelly as you bring your arms away from the headboard. 

“Admit it, I’m the best you’ve ever had,” Wanda says, smirking at you while you catch your breath. Her eyes roam down your slightly sweaty body, her fingers twitching at the sight of your juices smeared over your inner thighs and dripping down onto the sheet.

“Fuck you.”

“Hmm,” Wanda shoots you a look, “Maybe next time.”

You roll your eyes, dropping your head back onto the pillow as Wanda moves around near the foot of the bed. Normally, you’d be concerned about her movements, watching her and anticipating her next move, but you’d just had the best orgasm of your entire life. You were in no condition to properly observe her.

“The best orgasm of your life?” Wanda’s voice sounds out, and you raise your head to look at her. Your eyes widen, blinking slightly as you glance between her serious expression and the large scarlet strap she’s holding. She smirks, “We’ve only just started.”

—

You’d promised yourself that it wouldn’t happen again. You’d scoffed when Wanda had said, “Same time next week, then?”

She hadn’t really expected you to show up, not that week at least. But you had. Honestly, how could you not? You’d seen her on the news, fighting some random superhero and easily blasting him into a building. The wave of jealousy that had washed over you was too intense to ignore, and you couldn’t help but meet her again. 

You didn’t want anyone else fighting her, it suddenly felt too intimate. You didn’t want anyone else to learn her tells, or how she fought. No, that was reserved solely for you. Besides, it turns out that she was really fucking good at being a dominatrix.

At The Crimson Crow, in private suite S, the two of you didn’t fight. It turned into a sort of safe haven, an area with an unspoken truce. You both needed something from each other, something only the other could give you, The entire world knew of your animosity, of your epic fights with contrasting white and scarlet magic, and the destruction you left behind after a battle. It felt good to have something that the world didn’t know about. 

Wanda Maximoff hated you, and you hated her right back. But she was yours, and you were hers. And that was enough.

---

Dm or comment to be added!

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[hopelesslygaysstuff]

50 Shades of Red || Chapter 9

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

summary: Natasha shows Wanda around her playroom, and they have a discussion.

content warnings: BDSM toys/playroom

word count: 2.4k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

The first thing Wanda notices is the smell; leather, wood, and a faint hint of cinnamon. It feels almost inviting, the soft, subtle warmth of the lighting creating a pleasant atmosphere. She can’t locate a source, but it seems to glow from the corners of the room, the soft shadows creating a relaxing ambiance. 

The walls and ceiling are the same dark burgundy color, giving the room a spacious, warm feeling. The floor is dark brown wood, varnished and smooth. Looking across the room, Wanda’s eyebrows raise slightly as her eyes land on the large cross-shaped like an X. It’s fastened to the wall across from the door, the straps on each of the corners telling her exactly what it is. 

Valiantly fighting a blush, and acutely aware of the woman standing right beside her, Wanda continues to look around the room. Above the cross is a large iron grid, suspended from the ceiling. On it, many ropes, chains, and shackles hang. Near the door are an assortment of paddles, whips, riding crops, and thin sticks with feathers sprouting from the ends. 

Near the door is a large chest of drawers, the dark mahogany fitting the theme of the room perfectly. Each drawer is slim, as if they were meant to hold old items in a museum. Wanda sonders what the drawers actually do contain, before a sliver of fear works its way into her brain. 

Does she actually want to know?

Clearing her throat, Wanda continues to look around, unaware of the way her body leans subconsciously towards Natasha. In the far corner of the room, a leather-padded bench innocently sits. The legs look bolted to the floor, and Wanda fights her rising heart rate as she looks at the wall near it. There is a large wooden rack, similar to one used to hold pool sticks, but actually holds multiple canes of different lengths and widths. 

The main event, the thing that dominates the entire space, is the bed. It’s somehow larger than a king-sized bed, with detailed wooden posts carved as they stretch towards the ceiling, a sturdy-looking metal grate as the canopy. It’s intricately designed, with gleaming chains and cuffs attached. There is no bedding, just a mattress with a dark red leather cover and a pile of red satin pillows at the head of the bed. 

Looking around the room, Wanda finds herself surprised that the wood, dark walls and soft warm lighting make the room almost… romantic in a way. She supposes that this might be the way Natasha shows true affection, and the sudden urge to unravel the woman’s layers and secrets hits her. 

Biting her lip, Wanda turns towards the woman beside her. Dark green eyes stare intently at her, just as Wanda somehow knew they would be. Natasha’s expression is unreadable. Walking further into the room, Wanda smiles slightly as the older woman follows closely. There’s an object that has her intrigued. Hesitantly, Wanda reaches out a hand and touches it lightly. 

The suede leather is cool to the touch. It looks like a small cat-of-nine-tails, but slightly bigger. There are small, dark red, plastic beads on the end. 

“It’s called a flogger,” Natasha says, her voice soft. 

Wanda just nods, her mind slightly numb. There aren’t any words coming to mind, all she can do is look around and absorb the dark furniture and various toys neatly arranged around the room. What is the appropriate response? Wanda would have appreciated a slight warning or hint before she walked into a BDSM wet dream.

It’s not that she was… upset. It was just more of a shock. Somehow, the thought of Natasha Romanoff being a domme wasn’t too hard to understand. Wanda had read quite a bit about different kinky aspects of sex, but she’d never had the opportunity to actually try much of anything herself. 

The farthest she’d ever gone was light groping behind the school bleachers with her ex-girlfriend. And not many other opportunities had come her way since. 

Wanda shakes her head slightly, wiping the thoughts of her past away as she forces herself to walk farther into the room. She can feel herself becoming almost… excited.

“I’m assuming that you’re a Dominant?” Wanda finally manages to say, her words feeling muffled and quiet in the space. She flushes at the pleased look that spreads across Natasha’s face, the woman’s lips turning upwards as she responds. 

“That is correct,” Natasha steps closer, watching Wanda as she runs her fingers over one of the delicately carved bedposts. “You don’t seem shocked.”

“I read a lot.”

“Ah, Ms. Maximoff,” Natasha’s voice is teasing, “What kind of books are you reading?”

Wanda lets out a small chuckle, a mere exhale of laughter really. “I’ll bring them over for you sometime, I’m sure they’ll be really enlightening.”

Letting out a thoughtful hum, Natasha smiles at the response, letting her eyes linger on the younger woman’s for a moment. She feels satisfaction building at the way Wanda flushes, her eyes blinking rapidly before she distracts herself by once again looking around the room. Then, Natasha’s eyes narrowed.

There’s that goddamn lip bite again.

Before she can even process the movement, Wanda feels firm fingers gripping her jaw as her eyes meet Natasha’s. The woman is looking down, her pupils dilated as she gently runs her thumb over Wanda’s bottom lip. 

“What have I said about biting your lip,” Natasha asks, her eyes dark. 

Wanda feels her back pressing against the same bedpost that she’d been admiring just seconds earlier. It’s rigid between her shoulder blades, the back of her head resting against it as Natasha holds her jaw captive. The feeling of the older woman’s body pressing ever so slightly against hers is sending her brain into overdrive. 

“Um,” Wanda says, feeling her eyelashes fluttering. She can practically feel her heartbeat as it pulses strongly through her veins, her whole body feeling weightless with need. “Something about you biting it for me.”

Because Wanda is looking at the older woman’s lips, she sees the way they curl into a pleased smile. She finds herself desperately wishing that Natasha would kiss her, and feels her heart rate spike as the woman leans in closer. 

Her lips graze Wanda’s as she speaks, the scent of cinnamon wrapping Wanda’s brain in a pleasant haze. “You understand that as a Dominant, I have rules, yes? If you comply, you’ll be rewarded. If you disobey, you’ll be punished.”

Wanda’s eyes dart over to the rack of long canes as Natasha speaks. Somehow, she isn’t frightened at the thought. Rather, she feels herself growing excited at the prospect. Sure, she’d read all about the BDSM community, even visited different blogs and websites where Dominants and Submissives shared their experiences, but actually being in a dynamic?

God, it was the most thrilling and exciting thing she’d ever considered. 

Taking a deep breath, Wanda forces herself to concentrate. She wants to give in, to let Natasha take control and make her feel good, but she resists. “Can we talk first? I just… want to make sure we both understand what we want.”

Leaning in fully, Natasha leaves a gentle kiss on Wanda’s lips before fully pulling away. Her eyes are gentle, a pleased smile on her face. “Of course, I’m glad you asked. Would you like to talk over dinner?”

Nodding, Wanda lets her tongue wet her lips, wishing she could taste more of Natasha’s lips against her own. She never thought she’d have the opportunity to explore the more… kinky, hidden desires she had. 

But now, looking at Natasha Romanoff in front of her with her perfect red hair and dark green eyes, surrounded by all of the tools a Dominant could need at her disposal… Wanda felt nothing but excitement. She also felt a strange fuzzy feeling threatening to take over, but she adamantly pushed it to the back of her mind. She needed a clear head for this discussion over dinner. 

— 

Watching Natasha cook had been a surreal experience. For some reason, Wanda had assumed that she would have a cook to do everything for her. After all, that’s what rich people do, right? Natasha had chuckled when Wanda voiced that thought, telling her that she did have a cook, but it was rather late at night. 

Wanda had glanced at the clock, her eyebrows shooting up at the numbers that read 9:37 above the stove. She hadn’t realized so much time had passed, but she quickly forgot about the late hour as she watched Natasha prepare what looked to be a warm grain bowl. 

“There’s a bottle of white wine with a green label in the rack,” Natasha said, gesturing in the direction of her wine rack. Wanda looked, catching sight of it as she stood from her spot at the table. “Would you mind grabbing it for me? There are glasses in the cabinet above the rack.”

“Of course,” Wanda murmured, watching as Natasha turned the stove off, sweeping the baby tomatoes she’d cut into a bowl. Carefully, Wanda grabbed the wine bottle and opened the cabinet. A limited selection of glasses told her that Natasha didn’t host many large dinner parties, but the glass was cold and heavy against her fingers. Selecting two wine glasses, Wanda made her way back to the marbled kitchen table, slowly setting the glasses down with the bottle in between them. 

“Where is your corkscrew?” 

Natasha looks over her shoulder at Wanda’s question, her features soft in the kitchen lighting. Wanda feels her heart melt slightly, the relaxed line of the older woman’s shoulders setting her at ease immediately. She can almost envision Natasha like this many years from now, completely comfortable in her own space as they make dinner together. Shaking that thought from her head, Wanda grabs the corkscrew as Natasha speaks, her fingers gesturing towards a drawer while she carefully pours the steaming quinoa from its pot on the stove into a large bowl. 

They don’t speak, a comfortable silence lingering as Natasha sets the table, Wanda’s fingers only slightly shaking as she uncorks the wine, refusing to think about how expensive the bottle is. 

It’s not until she’s almost halfway done with her bowl that Wanda finally speaks, the wine she’s been sipping on giving her courage. “I have a few questions.”

Natasha pauses, setting her fork down and gently wiping at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. Her eyes are intent and focused, locked on Wanda as she tilts her head slightly while her hands rest casually on the table. It’s an open stance, and it makes Wanda trust her even more. 

“Ask whatever you like, Wanda. I don’t intend on keeping secrets from you.”

Wanda feels the urge to leap across the table and crash her lips against Natasha’s when she says that, but luckily keeps her cool and casually sets her fork down as well. Well, she tries to at least, the metal clangs slightly against her bowl, and she curses her shaking fingers. 

She’s not… scared, exactly. Mostly just nervous and slightly intimidated by the powerful, knowledgeable woman in front of her. Not to mention, she was a Dominant, and Wanda had never exactly interacted with someone from the BDSM community before. She really didn’t want to say the wrong thing. 

“Do you want a romantic relationship or just a Dominant and Submissive relationship?” Wanda asks, trying not to cringe at her bluntness. 

Nodding thoughtfully, Natasha takes a deep breath before responding, the only sign of her emotions is the slight tightening of her fingers around her fork. “I want both.” She says, her words firm but her eyes searching Wanda’s with an almost nervous energy. 

It’s strange, to see someone so confident looking at her like this. Wanda doesn’t know how to feel, but she knows that she’s grateful for the vulnerability that Natasha is showing. After all, expressing your true desires and emotions is a scary thing, Wanda understands that. 

“So do I,” Wanda says, smiling at the relieved expression that washes over Natasha’s features. “Although, I will admit that I’ve never really been in a relationship with a Dominant before.”

Smiling, Natasha takes a sip of her wine. “That’s perfectly alright, Wanda. I don’t mind at all. In fact, I think it’s rather exciting to be the one to introduce you to this dynamic. If you’d like that, of course.”

“I would.” The words are out of Wanda’s mouth before she can think about them. She means it, every word. This was something she didn’t know she needed, but ever since Natasha had shown her this side of her, especially her playroom, all Wanda could feel was an intense, deep craving. 

She wanted this. Wanda wanted to explore everything she could with Natasha. She wanted to build a lasting relationship with her, one built on trust and love and a deep understanding of each other. Sure, it wasn’t like the conventional relationships she was surrounded by, but Wanda didn’t quite care. She wanted to be happy, and right now, Natasha Romanoff was the only person she could see herself truly being happy with. 

“Perfect,” Natasha says, taking another sip of her wine, her green eyes intent and hot as she watches Wanda. 

Wanda can’t quite focus after that. She compliments Natasha on the food, of course, as it was one of the best meals she’s ever had, but her mind is elsewhere. The only thing she could think about was the way Natasha’s lips had felt against hers and the intensity of her eyes as she watched her look around at the various toys and tools in her playroom.

The wine is making her head slightly fuzzier than usual, her nerves dissipating as they talk about random things. She learns all about the art Natasha has hung up in her office, and even enquires about the all-blonde staff. 

Natasha laughs at that, telling her that she hadn’t exactly planned it out that way, but most of the qualified candidates for each various position just happened to be blonde. She doesn’t even mind when Wanda tells her about how out of place she’d felt during their first meeting, or about how awkward it was to walk into her building for the first time. 

After a while of mindless chatter, Natasha asks a question, one that turns Wanda’s blood to ice. 

“Are you a virgin?”

Her cheeks burn, embarrassment and insecurity flooding her. What if Natasha didn’t think she was experienced enough? What if she wasn’t good enough, or worse, if she made a mistake and ruined everything? Doubt consumes her, but Wanda forces herself to breathe, to calm the raging emotions inside her. She can’t let fear control her now, not when she’d gotten so far already.

“Yes.”

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta @captivepotato @justarandomreaderxoxo @godhatesgoodgirls @snowdrop1026 @maximoffmorale @noturlondonboy @wandaspuppy @xenaizogie @imjustvibingsworld @tobiaslut @subby-lesbian @xenaizogie @sxlfishbrokenheart @huggingkoalas @deliriosinrose @godhatesgoodgirls @yeetus-thyself @wizardofstories @wandastan-2 @undercoversoftie

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

Three minutes and her fingers gripping my hair is all I need

[w4ndal0ver-deactivated20251109]

said i'm gonna play with myself (milf!wanda x tutor!reader)

W4NDALOVER'S KINKMAS | 2024

dec 7: said i'm gonna play with myself (milf!wanda x tutor!reader)

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

KINKMAS MASTERLIST | 2024

summary: While tutoring Wanda's children, she invites you to stay for dinner, before giving you a call that you'd never forget when you get home

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, mommy kink, phone sex

said i'm gonna play with myself.

“Let’s wrap up for today, Tommy. I think you’re well on your way to acing this unit,” you say, gathering your notes.

Tommy grins, newfound enthusiasm lighting his face. “Thanks! I might actually read the rest of it now.”

As you gather your things, you take one last glance at Wanda, who is arranging the table. A flutter of excitement stirs in your chest—this tutoring session is just a step into something deeper, something you can’t wait to explore.

Just as you finish packing up, Wanda glances at the clock, then back at you, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “You know, it’s still early, and Vision won’t be home for a while. Would you like to stay for dinner? It’d be nice to have some adult conversation.”

A rush of excitement mingles with nervousness at the invitation. You glance at Tommy, who looks equally surprised.

“Yeah, stay! My mom makes the best food,” Tommy adds, his grin wide and eager, clearly hoping for an excuse to avoid any homework.

Wanda laughs, a melodic sound that fills the kitchen. “It’s true! Plus, I could use some help keeping Tommy on track. We can talk about your studies too.”

You hesitate for a moment, considering the offer. “Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?” you ask, glancing between Wanda and Tommy.

Wanda shakes her head, her eyes sparkling with genuine enthusiasm. “Not at all! It’s always more fun to share a meal. And I’d love to hear more about your experiences at Yale, especially your English Literature classes.”

Your heart flutters at the thought of spending more time with Wanda, diving deeper into conversation and sharing stories. “That sounds wonderful. I’d love to stay.”

Wanda’s face lights up with happiness. “Great! Just make yourself comfortable. I’ll finish up here.” She moves back to the stove, and you take a seat at the kitchen island, feeling the warmth of her invitation settle around you

“Can I help you with anything?” You ask genuinely, wanting to show her your appreciation for letting you stay. 

“Just sit there and look pretty for me.” She smirks, looking at you over her shoulder as she starts to dish up the food that she’d made. She starts to softly hum to herself as you perch on the side. “This smells amazing,” you say, leaning closer to inhale the rich scent.

“It’s a family recipe for beef stew,” she replies, her eyes lighting up. “Tommy and Billy love it, especially on chilly days like today.”

The kitchen feels warm and inviting, and you admire how effortlessly she creates an atmosphere that feels both homey and elegant. As she plates the stew, you can’t help but appreciate the care she puts into everything she does.

“Dinner is served!” she announces, setting down two bowls, each steaming and inviting. The sight alone makes your mouth water, and you grab a warm roll from the basket nearby, slathering it with butter.

As you dig into the meal, you find yourself drawn into Wanda’s world. She shares anecdotes from her life, her voice soothing and engaging, while Tommy and Billy interject with playful commentary. The laughter that fills the kitchen feels intimate, and you notice how Wanda’s eyes sparkle when she talks about her passions.

Between bites, you steal glances at Wanda, captivated by the way she moves about the kitchen, effortlessly transitioning between tasks. Each moment with her feels charged, as if you’re discovering more than just a talented cook but a woman who radiates warmth and kindness.

As dinner winds down, Wanda leans back in her chair, satisfaction evident on her face. “I’m glad you decided to stay,” she says, and her smile feels like an invitation, a promise of more moments like this.

“Me too,” You reply, a flutter of excitement stirring within you. This cosy kitchen, filled with lingering scents of dinner and the warmth of shared laughter, felt right. 

As you sit there, enjoying the warmth of the kitchen and the fading light of the afternoon, your gaze drifts to Wanda. She moves with an effortless grace, her laughter mingling with the aroma of dinner, and you can’t help but admire the way her eyes light up when she engages in conversation. Each glance she steals in your direction feels laden with unspoken intentions, and you find yourself wondering what goes on in her mind. What motivates her to invite you into her home, to share this intimate moment with her family? There’s a softness to her demeanour, a hint of flirtation that suggests she sees more in you than just a tutor for Tommy. The warmth in her gaze ignites a mix of excitement and curiosity within you, making you contemplate the possibilities that lie ahead—possibilities that make your heart race with anticipation.

As Tommy and Billy finish their plates, they exchange playful glances before Tommy pushes his chair back. “Can I be excused? I need to go check something on my phone.”

“Me too! Can we play that new game?” Billy pipes up, bouncing in his seat.

“Alright, just keep it down,” Wanda replies with a smile, waving them off. The moment they scurry from the table, the atmosphere shifts, leaving just you and Wanda.

The air feels charged, almost electric. You lean back, savouring the lingering warmth of the meal and the soft glow of the kitchen light. Wanda glances toward the pantry and then looks back at you, a playful smile dancing on her lips. “How about a little wine to celebrate surviving our first tutoring session?”

You chuckle as she moves toward the cupboard, reaching for a bottle. She holds it up, tilting it slightly as if to gauge your reaction, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What do you think? Care to share a glass?”

“Why not?” you reply, intrigued by her casual invitation. Wanda pours two glasses, her movements fluid and graceful. As she hands you a glass, her fingers brush against yours, sending a small thrill through you.

“It’s nice to unwind after a long day, don’t you think?” she says, leaning against the counter, her gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart flutter.

“It definitely is,” you agree, raising your glass in a mock toast. “To surviving tutoring sessions and small towns.”

She laughs, her eyes lighting up, and you can’t help but admire the way she carries herself, exuding both warmth and confidence. “And to new beginnings.”

You take a sip, enjoying the rich flavours as the conversation flows effortlessly between you. “It’s weird being back in Westview. This town can feel so stifling,” you admit, twirling your fork absently. “I didn’t realise how freeing it would be to go to Yale and finally be able to express myself.”

Wanda tilts her head, her gaze locking onto yours with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. “Have you found anyone in Connecticut?” she asks, her voice light but filled with genuine interest.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Oh, there were plenty of people interested, but none that I could be bothered to get to know. Friends, sure, but not a girlfriend.”

“Really?” Wanda leans in slightly, her elbows resting on the table, interest evident in her expression. “Not even a little spark with anyone?”

Her question is playful, and you feel a rush of warmth. “I guess I just didn’t find anyone worth my time.”

Wanda’s smile widens, and she tilts her head slightly, her hair falling to one side. “You’re telling me a beautiful girl like you couldn’t find someone to take a chance on?” She leans closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “That’s hard to believe.”

The playful banter makes your heart race. “Believe it or not, I’m not exactly the most sought-after prize.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she replies, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I find you quite intriguing.”

Feeling emboldened by her flirtation, you decide to take a bolder step, though you tread lightly, your curiosity tinged with an eagerness to learn more about her. “So, I’ve been curious about something,” you say, hesitating just a moment to build anticipation. 

“Hit me.” She says, her eyes twinkling as her finger traces the rim of her wine glass. 

“Your affair with Agatha, what was that like?”

Wanda’s expression shifts, the playful sparkle in her eyes momentarily flickering with surprise. “You’re quite the inquisitive one, aren’t you?” she replies, a mix of intrigue and wariness in her voice, but there’s an underlying thrill in her tone. “How did you even - no it doesn’t even matter.” She laughs, knowing immediately that Agatha wasn’t exactly one for keeping her mouth shut. 

You lean forward slightly, drawn in by her response. “I mean, it seems like it must have been complicated. You two have such a dynamic.” You let the words linger, allowing the weight of the question to settle between you.

Wanda tilts her head, contemplating her answer, her lips parting slightly as if to speak but then closing again. The silence hangs, thick with unspoken thoughts. “Complicated is one way to put it,” she finally admits, her voice softening. “It taught me a lot about myself, about what I wanted.”

“Did you ever think about what might have happened if things had gone differently?” you ask, your tone teasing but sincere, hoping to coax out more from her.

Wanda’s eyes meet yours, the intensity of her gaze making your heart race. “Sometimes,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers brushing against yours on the table. “How come you’re so interested in my love life young lady?”

“You asked about mine first.” It was your turn to wink this time and the reaction that you got from Wanda was completely worth it. Finally her cheeks blushed pink, her lips rolling against each other and her tongue poked against her cheek, something you realised was her tell. 

“You got me there sweetheart.” She hums, taking another sip of her wine, the sip turning into a glug, the wine matching the deep colour of her cheeks, highlighting the blonde highlights of her hair which she tucked behind her ear.

You watch her, captivated by the way she navigates the conversation with both grace and playful candour. Wanda’s demeanour radiates warmth, but there's an underlying intensity in her gaze that pulls you in even closer. She leans back slightly, her fingers swirling the wine glass, the deep red liquid catching the light in a way that mirrors the spark in her eyes.

“You know,” she starts, her voice light but teasing, “I didn’t expect such an insightful conversation over dinner. I usually just get ‘What’s your favourite colour?’ or ‘What’s your favourite drink?’” She laughs softly, a musical sound that echoes in the cosy kitchen, making you smile in response.

“Those questions have their charm, but I’d take a good chat about love lives any day,” you reply, letting your gaze linger on her lips as she speaks. “It’s way more interesting.”

Wanda’s smile widens, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes. “Interesting, huh? So, you’re saying I’m interesting?” Her tone is playful, but there’s a subtle challenge behind it that makes your pulse quicken.

“Absolutely. You’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met,” you say, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach. You can’t help but feel drawn to her, a magnetic pull that’s both thrilling and intoxicating.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she responds with a smirk, leaning closer again, her elbow brushing against yours. “But seriously, I’m curious. If you had to pick, what’s your type?”

You pause, considering your answer, but the way she’s looking at you makes it difficult to think clearly. “Honestly? Someone confident, a bit witty, maybe a little mysterious.” Your eyes meet hers, and you see a flicker of intrigue dance across her features. “You know, like someone who can keep me on my toes.”

“Oh really?” Wanda arches an eyebrow, the corners of her lips curling into a sly grin. “I think I might know someone who fits that description.” Her gaze flickers to your lips and back to your eyes, a playful challenge lingering in the air between you.

“Do you now?” you tease, leaning closer, your heart racing as you embrace the flirtation. “Care to share?”

She chuckles softly, a soft sound that wraps around you like a warm blanket. “Maybe. But only if you promise to keep it a secret.”

“Cross my heart,” you reply, a playful seriousness in your tone, your heart thumping in anticipation.

“Alright,” she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Lets just say this person has a soft spot for pretty girls who can hold up their own in a conversation.” She bites her lip, her eyes sparkling with mischief. 

You feel a rush of heat flood your cheeks, and for a moment, you’re both lost in each other's gaze, the air thick with unspoken tension. Just then, you notice the clock on the wall and blink in surprise, realising how much time has passed. “Wow, I really should get going. I can’t believe how late it’s gotten.”

Wanda’s expression shifts slightly, a hint of disappointment flickering across her face. “Oh, do you have to?”

“Yeah, I should” you begin, but she interrupts you, standing up and moving toward her purse.

“Wait, let me grab something for you,” she says, her tone light as she rummages through her bag. You take a moment to gather your things, but the atmosphere feels charged, and you can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t the end.

As you slip on your coat, she turns to you, a hundred-dollar bill in her hand. “Here, take this,” she says, extending it toward you.

You glance at the money, then back at her, unsure. “Wanda, this is way too much. I can’t just take this.”

“Just take it, please,” she insists, her tone soft but firm. “Consider it a thank you for making dinner so enjoyable.”

Her fingers brush against yours as she tries to push the bill into your palm, and you can’t help but notice the warmth of her touch, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “I really can’t”

“Just let me do this,” she interrupts, her eyes locking onto yours, an intensity behind them that leaves you breathless. “I want you to have it.”

With a sigh, you let her close your hand around the bill, the warmth of her touch lingering. “Alright, if you insist.” You grab your stuff and she follows you out towards the front door.

As you stand by the door, the weight of the moment settles around you, electrifying the air. Wanda moves closer, her gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that sends your heart racing. You feel a thrill as she reaches up, her fingers gently brushing against your cheek, and then she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The soft caress sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but lean into her touch, savouring the warmth of her hand lingering near your face.

“There,” she says, her voice low and sultry, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Much better.” The way her fingers linger near your ear feels almost intimate, and you find yourself holding your breath, caught in the moment.

Wanda’s eyes search yours, a spark of mischief dancing in their depths. “You always look beautiful,” she adds, her voice dropping just above a whisper, making your heart flutter. The compliment hangs in the air, thick with unspoken possibilities.

“Thanks,” you manage to reply, your voice softer than usual, the closeness between you two making the world outside fade away. You can feel the warmth radiating from her, a magnetism that draws you even closer. All you wanted was to tell her how beautiful you thought she was, pull yourself into a kiss as she slams you up against the door to her suburban house, but instead you can’t get the words out.

As she pulls her hand away, a slight blush creeps up her cheeks, and you notice the way her gaze flickers between your eyes and lips, an unspoken invitation that makes your pulse quicken. The chemistry between you crackles like electricity, and you can’t help but wonder what might happen next, the evening stretching before you with infinite possibilities.

“See you next Tuesday,” she says, a smile playing on her lips as she steps back, watching you with an expression that makes your heart race.

As you step outside, the cool air hits you, but the warmth of the moment lingers, not able to get it out of your head as you walk back home. Everything about her felt so wrong, but you couldn’t ignore the way her eyes gazing into yours made you feel, something so raw and exciting. She was magnetic, all you wanted to do was let your walls fall down and allow her to take you into her grasp, but you knew that you couldn’t, it was too risky. 

.-.

As soon as you reach your house, your thoughts are still tangled in the evening’s events, the warmth of her touches still ghosting over your skin. The immediate heat of the house matches the flush in your cheeks despite the chill of the cool night air. It feels unusually quiet, especially after the buzzing tension you’d just left behind. 

Kicking off your shoes, you move through the motions of getting ready for bed, but your mind keeps circling back to Wanda. The way her stare lingered on you, how she always leaned closer with each exchange, her fingers brushing yours. That last touch, the press of her hand around the money she forced into your palm, everything was making your skin burn uncontrollably. 

You slip into bed, your phone resting on the nightstand, its screen dim but somehow tempting, as if you half expect a message. You close your eyes, but Wanda’s image is imprinted there, her teasing smile, the way she tucked that loose strand of hair behind her ear, the flash of something daring in her eyes every time she glanced at you. There was no more denying it, you’re drawn to her in a way that feels inescapable. The flirting, the touches, she reads your mind without saying a word. 

Just as you’re about to drift off, your phone buzzes softly, the screen lighting up with a name that makes you jump up in excitement. Wanda. 

You pick up without hesitation, “Hey Wanda,” you say, trying to keep your voice casual, as if you hadn’t been thinking about the way she’d look on top of you. 

“Hi,” She replies, her voice warm, a little lower than usual, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Not at all,” You assure her, shifting slightly under the covers, your thighs squeezing together at nothing but the sound of her voice, “What’s up, it’s late?”

“I was just thinking about our conversation earlier,” She says, her tone deepening with every word she spoke, “I wanted to check in, make sure you got home safe.”

You smiled, touched by her genuine thoughtfulness, “I did, I’m just getting ready for bed.”

“Good, good.” Wanda murmurs. There’s a slight pause, and you hear her inhale deeply, “I, uh, was also thinking about what you said, about finding someone,”

You couldn’t help but feel your breath hitch in the back of your throat, the tension rising over telephone lines. “Yeah? What about it?”

Her voice drops lower, and there's a subtle shift in the air. You can hear her breathing, soft but uneven, something about it was different. “I guess it’s just, surprising, you know?” She whispers, “That someone as pretty as you hasn’t found anyone worth your time.” 

You shift the phone harder against your ear, suddenly hyper aware of the weight of her silence between every word. “Wanda?” You ask gently, her silence deafening. 

“I’m here,” She responds, but there's a catch in her voice, a breathless quality that wasn’t there before, “It’s just that I’ve been thinking about you.”

Your breath catches, her words making your stomach flip and you could almost choke against her words, “About me?”

There's a soft sound on the other end of the line, a barely audible gasp. Wanda’s breathing hitches and you feel your pulse quicken as realisation dawns down on you. Her breaths are shallow, broken by quiet, restrained moans. 

The sudden intimacy of it makes your skin tingle, Wanda was touching herself, while talking to you. The idea sends a rush of heat straight through you, your own breath panting as you process what’s happening. Your mind circling down on the thought of her blowing a blonde strand of hair out of her face as her back arched against the palm of her hand. 

“I-” You don’t even know what to say. 

“You have no idea how much you've been on my mind.” Wanda whispers, her voice thick with pleasure, each word punctuated by the sounds of her breath quickening, “God, I couldn’t stop thinking about you even after you left.”

Her words are laced with heat, and you feel the tension between you spike, your body responding to the quiet sounds of her gasps, to the way her voice curls around each breathless word.

“I can’t stop imagining” She trails off, another soft moan escaping her, and it feels like it’s all for you, every breath, every sound. “What it’d be like if you were here”

The room feels hotter suddenly, your pulse pounding in your ears. You can picture her now, in her own bed, hand sliding against her skin, her body arching with every wave of pleasure. It’s almost overwhelming, how close she feels despite the distance, how intimate this moment has become.

“Wanda” you murmur, your voice betraying your own excitement, your body reacting to the sultry edge in her voice, to the rawness of this unexpected moment.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she teases softly, her voice a delicate thread of desire. “I can tell, I can hear it in your voice.”

You can’t help the way your body responds, heat pooling low in your belly, the thrill of her words sending sparks through your veins. This connection, the electric pull between you and Wanda, feels impossible to ignore now. You could feel your arousal building between your legs, doing everything you could to not join her. 

“Tell me what you’d do,” Wanda whispers, the soft, sensual command in her voice making you shiver. You swallow hard, the intimacy of her question hanging in the air, the weight of what she’s asking leaving you breathless.

Your breath catches at her words, the weight of Wanda’s request settling over you, igniting something deep within. There’s a moment of silence, thick and heavy, as you process the intimacy of what she’s asking. You can practically hear the soft rustle of sheets on her end, her breath laboured but controlled, a steady rhythm that mirrors your own quickened heartbeat.

You close your eyes, sinking further into your bed, the thought of her, so vulnerable and uninhibited—making your skin flush. “I…I don’t know,” you murmur, feeling your own voice falter with nervous excitement. But even as you say it, your mind spins with possibility. You know exactly what you’d want to do but you’d never been with a woman before, you’d never been with anyone like that before. You knew that nobody knew that you were still a virgin, but you weren't ready to admit that. 

Wanda’s voice softens, her tone coaxing but still thick with desire. “Come on,” she whispers, and you can almost see the playful smirk on her lips, feeling the warmth of her breath against your skin. “Oh I see.” She chuckles through breathy gasps. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.” You gasp at her words, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“Wanda, I-” You couldn’t help it, no words were coming out. The nerves of your inexperience coming through so obviously  in the waver in your voice. 

“It’s okay sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re doing do you?” Her soft moan echoes down the line, a breathless, sensual sound that sends a shiver through you, “You don’t know how to pleasure a woman like you pretend to, do you.” Wanda’s words drip with seductive authority, her voice threading through the phone like a secret. "You don’t have to pretend with me," she purrs, her breath quickening, sending shivers down your spine. "I’ll teach you. All you have to do is listen."

Your heart pounds in your chest, the sheer intimacy of her voice making your body react in ways you hadn’t expected. You shift under the covers, your skin burning with a mixture of desire and nervousness. "I’ve never—" you start, but your voice cracks, barely above a whisper. The admission hangs in the air, your vulnerability on full display.

"I know," Wanda murmurs softly, her tone teasing yet reassuring, as though she had known all along. "But I can show you, if you let me."

You can hear her breathing, now quicker, almost ragged, as if the very thought of guiding you through this is bringing her to the edge. "Do you want me to show you, darling?" she whispers, the question itself a caress. "Do you want me to tell you exactly how I’d fuck you?"

Your breath catches again, your pulse racing, the words sending heat coursing through you. “Yes,” you murmur, barely able to find your voice. "I want you to."

Wanda hums softly, pleased with your surrender, and you can hear the shift of her body, the subtle movements of fabric and skin. "Good girl," she whispers, her words laced with a satisfaction that makes your chest tighten with want. "I want you to close your eyes and imagine me there with you, my hand tracing up your thigh, slipping under your clothes, touching you exactly where you need me."

You can hear the faint sound of Wanda’s breath catching, her own pleasure mounting as she describes it to you. “Can you feel that? My fingers on you?” she asks, her voice breathy and low, pushing you to the edge of your self-control.

“Yes,” you whisper back, your voice shaky, lost in the heat of the moment.

“Tell me what you want,” she says, her voice deepening, the sensual command impossible to resist. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

You’re trembling now, caught between desire and nervous excitement, but you push past the nerves, your need for her overtaking everything else. “I want you to touch me, to fuck me,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper, the words trembling on your lips.

Wanda’s breath hitches, and you hear the unmistakable sound of her pleasure, a soft gasp escaping her as she touches herself. "Say it again," she demands, her voice thick with lust, desperate to hear your desire.

“Wanda,” you moan softly, giving in to the pull of her words, the fantasy she’s woven around you. “I need you to fuck me. I want you to touch me, make me yours.”

The sound of her gasp on the other end of the phone sends a wave of heat through you, and you can hear her losing control, her breathing turning rugged and uneven. "Mmm, you’re such a good girl," she purrs between breaths, her voice dark with desire. "You’d let me take you, wouldn’t you? Let mommy fuck you until you can’t think straight."

There it was, you let out a moan at the way she titled herself. You knew you’d been into that for years now, but never daring to tell anybody, but of course she knew, she could read you so well. You nod, even though she can’t see you, your entire body aching for her touch. “Yes, please mommy, I want it so badly.”

Wanda moans softly, her pleasure evident, and you can almost picture her, the way her body must be arching under her own touch, lost in the same heat that’s consuming you. "I’d make you beg for it, sweetheart. I’d have you trembling beneath me, begging for more."

You bite your lip, your breath catching at the raw hunger in her voice, your own need reaching a fever pitch. "I’d beg," you admit, barely able to find your voice. "I’d beg for you mommy."

Her breath comes faster now, a soft, breathless moan escaping her lips. "That’s my girl," she whispers, her voice breaking with the weight of her own pleasure. "You’d be mine. All mine.”

Wanda's moan on the other end of the line grows louder, ragged with need, as if your words pushed her even closer to the edge. You can hear the soft rustle of sheets, the unmistakable wet sounds of her fingers moving faster, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The image of her, undone and desperate for release, fills your mind, stoking the fire building within you.

“Say it again,” she demands, her voice thick with desire, trembling with the intensity of her pleasure. “Tell me what you want, tell me you’re mine.”

Your pulse races, each beat louder than the last, the heat between your legs growing unbearable. You grip the phone tighter, biting your lip, but you know she wants more than your silence. “I’m yours, Wanda,” you whisper, breathless, giving her exactly what she needs. “I’ll do anything. Just please, fuck me. Make me yours, mommy.”

The sound she makes in response is guttural, a low, throaty moan that sends shivers down your spine. “Oh, fuck.” she gasps, her control slipping further with every passing second. You can hear her fingers moving faster, the wetness of her arousal audible through the phone, and it’s intoxicating, pulling you under with her.

“Good girl,” Wanda breathes, her voice barely holding together as she edges closer to climax. “You’d be so good for me, wouldn’t you? Let me fuck you whenever I want, take you however I want.”

“Yes, yes,” you whimper, your own arousal becoming overwhelming, your body aching for her. “Please, Mommy, I’d be so good for you. I’d let you do anything to me.”

That’s all she needs.

With a sharp, shuddering breath, Wanda moans loud into the phone, the sound of her orgasm raw and uncontrolled. Her breath catches, breaking into uneven gasps, and you can hear the wet sound of her fingers as she rides out the wave of pleasure, her body clearly shaking from the force of it. Each sound she makes is laced with satisfaction, a deep, throaty hum of ecstasy as her release takes over completely.

You can barely breathe, your body reacting to the sheer intimacy of hearing her come undone, your own desire pooling low in your belly, desperate and needy. Wanda’s breathing gradually slows, her soft, contented sighs filling the air between you, and you close your eyes, imagining the flush on her cheeks, the way her body must be lying spent against the sheets.

“Such a good girl,” she whispers, her voice still heavy with satisfaction. “I can’t wait to hear you beg for real.”

“Wanda, I don’t know what to say.” You admit, your brain fuzzy and spaced out at the unexpected nature of her call. You’d only been back home for a few days and you had no idea how much of an impression you’d made on the older woman.

“You don’t have to know what to say honey, that’s my job.” She hums as you hear the click of heels against tiled flooring. You could almost choke on the sound, she wasn’t in her bedroom, she was in the kitchen, the echoing of her words now making sense as each moan had bounced around the emptiness of the room. 

“Are you in the kitchen?” you ask breathlessly, biting your lip as you imagine her there, the scene playing out in your head like a movie. You envision her bending over the kitchen island, the soft glow of the lights casting a warm hue over her skin as she calls you, wanting you to picture every moment of her tantalising routine.

“Maybe,” Wanda teases, her voice dripping with mischief. “Will I see you next Tuesday?” 

You feel a thrill rush through you at her question, the way she asks it, sending your heart racing. "You know I’ll be there," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with eagerness.

“Good,” Wanda replies, a satisfied hum escaping her lips. 

“Goodnight, Wanda,” you murmur, your heart fluttering with excitement as the call ends, leaving you with thoughts of her dancing through your mind. As soon as you heard the line end, you reached down to your underwear, the fabric completely soaked and you threw your head back in frustration. You wanted to touch yourself, but it felt wrong, you wanted to leave yourself in desperate heat, making you want Wanda even more.

[bloodraven55]

they just don't make queerbait this good anymore 😔

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

50 Shades of Red || Chapter 8

Image Cred: The Flying Photographer

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

summary: Wanda goes on her first helicopter ride, with a hot woman right beside her.

content warnings: none

word count: 3.3k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

Vision has called 5 times, left two voicemails, and sent 7 messages to Wanda’s phone. He’s also texted Kate. She showed Wanda the texts, her responses vague and dry. He’s smart, he’ll know that Kate is covering for Wanda, but she doesn’t particularly care. She’s still angry with him. 

She’s angry and she can’t get the phantom feeling of his sweaty body pressed against her out of her memory. It leaves a bile taste in their throat and an urge to avoid and run. 

The only thing that gets her mind off of that night is the thought of her upcoming date with Natasha. 

Kate had helped her pick out an outfit, a pair of loose denim jeans with black boots and a comfortable black sweater. The temperature had dipped for the weekend, leaving everything gloomy as clouds gathered overhead. 

It was the perfect weather, in Wanda’s opinion.

Truthfully, there was nothing she liked to do more than sit down with a book and a lit candle as a thunderstorm sounded overhead. Unfortunately for her, by the time Natasha’s car had pulled up to her apartment, the clouds were already clearing. It looked like the helicopter ride was officially happening. 

Wanda didn’t know why she was so nervous. It’s not like this was the first date, after all. This time, it felt… official. This date felt more concrete somehow, a spontaneous coffee date nowhere near the level of this. 

Natasha was punctual, of course. She was waiting outside, leaning casually against a car, the exterior shining like it had been newly buffed. She opens the back door politely, smiling warmly at Wanda. 

“Good evening, Ms. Maximoff.”

“Ms. Romanoff.” Wanda nods politely to her, climbing into the backseat. She hopes it looks grateful, and not at all as awkward as she feels. Nick is sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Hello Nick,” she says, watching Natasha round the car.

“Good evening, Ms. Maximoff,” he says, his voice polite and professional. Natasha opens the door, sliding into her seat next to Wanda and gently grabbing her hand. She gives it a squeeze, the feeling of electricity running all the way from Wanda’s fingertips to her furiously beating heart. 

“How was your day?” she asks.

Wanda grimaces slightly as she remembers all the prepping Kate put her through. She answers honestly, “Very long.” 

“Yes, it’s been a long day for me too.” Natasha’s tone is serious. 

“What did you do?” Wanda manages to ask, her voice catching slightly in her throat as the first scent of cinnamon hits her nose. How does the woman’s perfume manage to smell sexy and warm at the same time?

“I went hiking with Yelena.” Her thumb moves, stroking over Wanda’s knuckles. At the feeling, Wanda’s heart skips a beat, her breathing accelerating slightly. She doesn’t dare look in Natasha’s direction, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip slightly. How does she do this to her? She’s only touching a small part of Wanda’s body, and now she’s all worked up like a teenage boy.

The drive to the small airport is short, and before Wanda can get nervous about her first helicopter ride, they’ve arrived. Scanning the outside, she wonders where the helicopter actually is, since there are buildings all around them. Wanda knows that a helicopter needs space to take off and land, but she doesn’t see one anywhere. 

Nick parks the car, climbs out, and opens Natasha’s door. She quickly steps out, rounding the car and opening Wanda’s door before she’s even had a chance to unbuckle herself. 

“Ready?” she asks, holding out her hand. Wanda nods, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth as excitement and nerves build within her. 

“Nick,” Natasha nods curtly to her driver, and heads towards the building. Wanda sees a set of elevators, and a flush rises quickly to her cheeks. The memory of their kiss flies through her brain, and Wanda quickly tries to think of something else. 

She hadn’t been able to think of much else, her brain constantly replaying it in her mind the whole day. Twice, Kate had to snap her fingers in front of Wanda’s eyes with a knowing smirk plastered on her face. To say she’d been distracted would have been an understatement. 

Natasha glances over at her, a faint smile on her lips. Ha! She’d been thinking about it too.

“It’s only three floors,” she murmurs, her green eyes crinkled at the corners as amusement plays out on her perfect features. 

Wanda tries to keep her face impassive as they step into the elevator. Then the doors close, and the tension spikes. It’s an almost electrical attraction crackling between them and sparking where their fingertips meet. Wanda closes her eyes for a moment, attempting to ignore it. The grip on her hand tightens, and five seconds later, the doors open, a cool breeze rushing in and wiping away the heavy layer of tension.

There it is. A white helicopter with the name, Romanoff’s Global Enterprise written in red with the company logo on the side. Surely this was a misuse of company property. But then again, Wanda supposed it didn’t matter since Natasha was the CEO of the company.

Natasha walks over to a small office on the roof of the building, an older man seated inside. 

“Here is your flight plan, Ms. Romanoff. All external checks are done. It’s ready and waiting, ma’am. You are free to go.”

“Thank you, Joe,” Natasha says, taking the papers and smiling warmly at him.

Oh, this was someone deserving of polite treatment from Ms. Romanoff. Maybe he wasn’t an employee. Wanda stares at the older man in slight awe.

“Let’s go,” Natasha says, tugging slightly on Wanda’s hand. As they walk towards the helicopter, she realizes that it’s much bigger than it looked from far away. Wanda expected it to be just enough space for two people to fit in, but it looks as though it could fit at least seven people inside. Natasha opens the door and directs her over to one of the seats at the very front. 

“Sit,” she commands, and Wanda feels a warm feeling begin in her gut. “Don’t touch anything,” Natasha orders, climbing in and shutting the door. 

The door closes with a slam, the outside wind cutting off abruptly. Wanda blinks slightly, noticing the small lights lining the cockpit. It gives it a very homely feel, and she tentatively sits down in the seat directly next to the driver’s seat. Natasha crouches down next to her, strapping her into a harness. Her green eyes are focused on the four straps, connecting them to the central buckle. Wanda hopes she doesn’t say anything about the way her chest is heaving.

Natasha tightens both of the upper straps until Wanda can barely move. She glances up and smiles, like she’s enjoying her own private joke. Wanda is pleased to note that her eyes are dilated slightly. Her strong fingers wrap around one of the upper straps, pulling slightly. 

“You’re secure, no escaping now,” she whispers, her eyes intent and scorching as they rake over Wanda’s face. “Breathe,” she adds, her hand releasing the strap to cup Wanda’s face. Her fingers are gentle, running down her cheek until it grasps her chin. Leaning forward, Natasha smiles as she places a brief, chaste kiss on Wanda’s lips. 

“I like this harness,” she murmurs. 

Wanda’s eyes widen, her mind flying to the dirty connotations of that word. She hopes her blush isn’t too apparent in the dim lighting, but something in Natasha’s smirk tells her that her reactions are glaringly obvious. 

Sitting down in the driver’s seat, Natasha buckles herself in, then begins checking every little gadget and gauge. She flips switches and turns buttons, little lights flickering and flashing from various points, the whole instrument panel lighting up. Wanda is mesmerized, watching with wide eyes, even though she doesn’t know what’s going on. 

“Put those on,” she instructs, pointing to a set of headphones hanging in front of Wanda. Putting them on, Wanda blinks at the slight static she hears before Natasha puts her own set on, and hits one more switch. The rotor blades start, the vibrations traveling through Wanda’s seat, her fingers gripping the sides as Natasha continues to flip more switches. 

“I’m going through the pre-flight checks,” Natasha’s slightly staticy voice reaches Wanda’s ears. She turns and grins, watching the woman as her hands seem to move over the instrument panel with ease. 

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Wanda asks. Natasha turns to her and smirks.

“I’ve been a fully qualified pilot for over four years, Wanda. You’re safe with me.” Natasha’s smirk widens, becoming slightly sharp. “Well, at least while we’re flying,” she adds, winking saliciously. 

Wanda doesn’t even try to hide her reaction to that, her tongue wetting her lips slightly before she gently takes her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“Are you ready?”

She nods, her eyes going wide. 

“Okay, tower. PDX, this is Romanoff, cleared for take-off. Please confirm, over.”

“Romanoff, you are clear. PDX to call, proceed to one four thousand, heading zero one zero, over.”

“Roger tower, Romanoff set, over and out. Here we go,” she adds, pulling back slightly on the half-wheel in front of her. The helicopter rises slowly, smoothly ascending into the air. 

The buildings grow smaller, and Wanda feels as though she’s left her stomach down on the sidewalk. The bright lights shirk until they’re twinkling below them, similar to the stars above them. Once they’re higher, there isn’t much to see. It’s pitch black, the moon covered by clouds. How can Natasha see where they’re going?

“Eerie, isn’t it?” Natasha’s voice sounds out, and Wanda looks over at her.

“I kind of like it,” Wanda says, catching the warm yet surprised look the older woman sends her. It’s true, though. There’s something inherently peaceful about being this high up. It feels… intimate, almost. Wanda wishes they could stay in this private bubble of theirs for a while. 

“How do you know you’re going the right way?” she asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence. 

“Here,” Natasha points at one of the gauges. Wanda leans over, catching sight of an electronic compass. “Don’t worry, this helicopter is one of the safest in its class. It’s fully equipped for night flight.” She glances over and grins. 

“There’s a helipad on top of the building I live in. That’s where we’re headed.”

Of fucking course there’s a helipad where she lives. Wanda feels completely out of her league. She chooses to focus on Natasha’s face instead. It’s softly illuminated by the lights on the instrument panel. She’s concentrating hard, glancing at the dials and gauges in front of her every so often. Her lashes are dark and long, her profile one of the most beautiful things Wanda has ever seen. Her jawline is sharp, her lips full… Wanda would like to run her tongue over that jaw. 

“When you fly at night, you fly blind. You have to put your trust in your instruments,” she says, interrupting Wanda’s slightly inappropriate thoughts. 

“How long will the flight be?” Wanda manages, slightly breathless. She tells herself that she doesn’t sound eager, her heart beating wildly. 

“Less than an hour, the wind is in our favor.”

Okay, less than an hour. That’s not too terrible. Wanda can handle that. She just has to keep her mind off of the upcoming night. The anticipation is eating at her, different scenarios flying through her head at what Natasha could possibly have in store for her. 

“Are you alright, Wanda?”

“Yes.” Her answer is short and clipped. 

Wanda thinks she sees a smile, but she doesn’t have much time to look. Natasha begins speaking over the radio again, exchanging information with air traffic control. It sounds professional, but Wanda understands enough to tell that they’ve moved into Seattle’s airspace. 

“Look,” Natasha points to a small pin-point of light in the distance. Wanda squints at it. “That’s Seattle.”

“Do you always impress women this way?” Wanda asks, genuine curiosity in her voice. 

“I’ve never brought a girl up here, Wanda. This is another first for me.” Her voice is quiet, her tone serious.

Oh, that was… unexpected. What did she mean another… oh. The sleeping thing. 

“Are you impressed?”

“I’m awed, Natasha.”

She smiles. 

“Awed?” For a brief moment, she looks her age again. 

Wanda nods, looking away briefly. “You’re just so, I don’t know… competent.”

“Why, thank you, Ms. Maximoff,” she says politely. Wanda can’t get a read on her, but she thinks she’s pleased. 

They ride in the dark, comfortable silence for a while. The bright spot in the distance that marks Seattle slowly gets bigger.

“You obviously enjoy doing this,” Wanda murmurs.

“What?”

“Flying,” Wanda says, meeting those inquisitive green eyes. 

“Well,” Natasha sounds thoughtful, her fingers drumming the wheel for a moment. “It requires control and concentration. How could I not love it?”

Oh. Right. Wanda feels her flush return as Natasha exchanges more information over the radio.

Seattle is getting closer, they’re on the very outskirts of the city now. Fuck, it looks absolutely stunning. A large city at night, from the sky…

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Natasha murmurs, her eyes glancing out the window. 

Wanda nods eagerly. It looks almost unreal, like they’re on a massive film set. It reminds her of Vision’s favorite film, Bladerunner. The memory of Vision’s attempted kiss flashes behind Wanda’s eyes, and she pushes it down, her stomach curling slightly. She resents the guilty feeling that rises within her for not responding to his calls. 

He can wait.

The helicopter slows, hovering as a large helipad comes into view. Natasha carefully lands it, a gentle bump signaling the end of their ride. Wanda feels as though her heart is in her mouth, butterflies erupting as Natasha switches the ignition off. The rotor blades slow, the deafening noise Wanda had been filtering out finally quieting until the only thing she can hear is her own quick breaths. 

“We’re here,” Natasha says, reaching over to gently take off Wanda’s headphones. Her fingers brush a strand of hair behind Wanda’s ears, and she feels her heart melt at the gesture. 

“You know that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, right?” Natasha asks, her tone serious, a note of desperation running through it. Her green eyes are burning into Wanda’s. It takes her by surprise. 

“Of course,” Wanda responds, hoping her words hold enough conviction in them, despite her shaky tone. 

It seems to do the trick, Natasha nodding before helping Wanda unbuckle. Every brush of her fingers sends heat down Wanda’s spine, and she hopes her legs won’t tremble as she takes the older woman’s hand and steps onto the roof. She wraps an arm around her waist, holding her tightly as she ushers Wanda towards the doors. 

Swiping an ID card and pressing the down button, Natasha pulls Wanda into the elevator. It’s warm on the inside, with mirrors covering the walls and ceiling. She can see Natasha an infinite number of times wherever she looks, and she finds herself smiling. 

The elevator descends quickly, the doors opening to an unbelievably huge living area. Wanda can barely take it all in, the dark wood and numerous furnishings catching her eye as they make their way towards a spacious, well-lit kitchen. 

“Would you like a drink?” Natasha asks, removing her jacket. She smiles at Wanda’s slow nod, opening a bottle of white wine as she moves to look out of the floor-to-ceiling windows. 

Wanda can see all of Seattle from here, the bright lights painting a beautiful picture before her. She would be happy if she could look at this view for the rest of her life. 

“Is Pouilly Fumé alright with you?”

“I know nothing about wine, Natasha. I’m sure it will taste wonderful.” Wanda’s voice is soft, hesitant almost. Her heart is thumping wildly in her chest, the urge to run strong. Natasha is rich. Like, billionaire with almost too much money to handle kind of rich. What is she doing here?

Ah, that’s right. Wanda lets her eyes run over the woman’s body for a moment. She wants Natasha. Badly. 

“Here,” she says, handing her a glass of wine. Wanda takes it, sipping it as she marvels at how expensive the glass feels. The wine is light, crisp somehow, and utterly delicious.

Taking a seat on the white couch in the center of the room, Wanda licks her lips for a moment before biting her bottom lip. She looks up at Natasha, who has suddenly gone still, her eyes narrowed and locked on Wanda’s face. 

“Wanda, stop biting your lip. It’s very distracting.” Natasha’s voice is low and raspy. She sounds lightly strained, and her fingers grip the countertop behind her. “Would you excuse me a moment?” 

She leaves quickly, her wine left on the counter. Wanda blinks, sitting back and taking a few healthy mouthfuls of her own, her nerves settling slightly as she turns to gaze out at the city. It really is a beautiful sight. 

The sound of footsteps approaching breaks Wanda out of her thoughts, and she turns to see Natasha’s eyes locked on hers as she holds up a document. Bending down, she hands the paper and a pen to Wanda, shrugging slightly as she stands. 

“My lawyer insisted on a non-disclosure agreement.”

“What for?” Wanda asks, glancing down at the paper. Natasha waves a hand at it, picking up her wine glass again.

“It means you cannot disclose anything about us. Anything, to anyone.” Natasha puts an emphasis on the last word, sending a pointed look her way. Wanda smiles slightly. Too bad, Kate, guess she’s not getting any insider details after all.

“Okay, I’ll sign.”

“Are you going to read it?”

“No.”

Natasha frowns, taking a sip of her wine. “You should always read something before you sign it, Wanda.”

Looking up, Wanda gives her a deadpan look. “Natasha, what you fail to understand is that I would talk to anyone about us, even without this agreement. And yes, including Kate. So, it doesn’t matter whether I sign this paper or not. If it means that much to you, or your lawyer, then fine, I’ll sign it.”

“A fair point. Well done, Ms. Maximoff.” Natasha says, looking serious as she takes a longer drink of her wine. 

Smiling up at her, Wanda signs the dotted line on both copies, her signature lavish as the pen smoothly glides over the paper. She folds her copy, handing the other to Natasha. Placing her copy in her purse, she finishes off her wine. She sounds much braver than she actually feels. 

“So, what now?” Wanda asks, biting her lip again. 

Natasha practically growls, her eyes zeroing in on the action. Wanda loves the burning feeling that rises within her, the way her chest heaves slightly as her breath stutters. God, the effect this woman has on her is absolutely intoxicating. 

“Come with me,” Natasha says abruptly, holding out her hand and tilting her head expectantly. Her grip is firm as she gently pulls Wanda down the hallway. They go up a set of stairs, turning right and walking until they reach a dark brown door. Pulling a key out of her pocket, Natasha turns to Wanda with a serious look on her face. 

“You can leave anytime, you know that right? I’ll be fine with whatever decision you make tonight. Your comfort is my top priority.”

Wanda lets out a breath at that, anticipation itching in her veins. “Open the door, Natasha.”

Unlocking the door, Natasha slowly pushes, the door silently swinging open. Taking a deep breath, Wanda walks in, the scent of cinnamon and the warmth of the older woman right beside her. 

Holy fuck.

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta @captivepotato @justarandomreaderxoxo @godhatesgoodgirls @snowdrop1026 @maximoffmorale @noturlondonboy @wandaspuppy @xenaizogie @imjustvibingsworld @tobiaslut @subby-lesbian @xenaizogie @sxlfishbrokenheart @huggingkoalas @deliriosinrose @godhatesgoodgirls @yeetus-thyself @wizardofstories @wandastan-2

[wandaslovey]

SOUTHERN MILF WANDA

SOUTHERN MILF WANDA

SOUTHERN MILF WANDA

SOUTHERN MILF WANDA

[onetruwhore]

Why is this 2 hours long…

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Scarlet Moonlight

Vampire!Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf!reader

A/N: Just bullet points to something I might expand on. So please feel free to ask about these two because I have more than just this in mind~

-Wanda hates humans.

-Wanda is told to get a human pet by Nat.

-Wanda refuses and goes out to go find a meal.

-Wanda lets her eyes scan over the club, trying to pick the best meal

-Then she sees you, grinding up on some girl. A toothy grin. Canines are almost as sharp as hers.

-She tries to ignore you, but through everything she can hear the growl, you let out when the girl tries to leave a mark on you.

-She's next to you in an instant. A practical death grip on the drunk girl's shoulder.

-The girl runs off terrified of Wanda.

-You roll your eyes, and each of you can smell it immediately. What the other is.

-You try turning around and leaving to go find someone else to bring home.

-Wanda has made up her mind. Pulling you out of the club.

-Sure you were stronger than humans, but Vampires are stronger than werewolves in their human form.

-You find yourself in a penthouse. You're basically in the clouds. Everything smells metallic.

- “I was told to get a pet. I decided that was you.” She'd say.

-You scoffed, “Just because I'm a werewolf doesn't mean I'm a pet.” A low growl comes out.

-For weeks you fight Wanda as she holds you there captive.

-The whole time, she's sweet as you growl and bite when she gets too close

-But then it happens... your heat cycle...

-You feel like you're going absolutely mad with need.

-You try fixing the problem yourself, but it's not helping.

-Wanda even gave you heat pills to try and calm it down, but still, it didn't help

-Then it happened. She came to bring you food in the basement you were kept in, chained up.

-You got a wiff of her scent, and it wasn't that metallic smell you were used to it was what was beneath that which you hadn't noticed before; cherry blossoms.

-You grab her with a strength she hadn't seen before.

-You pull her close; flush against you and growl in her ear, "Let me do this, and you can drink."

-She agrees, and you're pulling her clothes off.

-Your member is throbbing as you slip it into her, and you are the farthest thing from gently. Luckily, a vampire can take it.

-When you knot and finish inside of her, you find yourself biting her neck, marking her as yours, something you'd never once thought about doing to someone.

-She returns the bite in kind with her own, the two fangs sinking in as you feel her drinking your blood.

-You continue rutting and whining as she drinks.

-You wake up in a bed you don't recognize, silk scarlet sheets, the room is dark with just a little light filtering through the sides of blackout curtains.

-You turn over to find Wanda there, sitting up and reading a book.

-She looks at you with a soft smile, "Feel better?" Her voice is just as soft as she reaches out.

-Her fingers are freezing but gentle as she pushes some hair behind your ears and gently scratches.

-Everything she has done with you since bringing you here has been soft and gentle.

-It has you melting, making satisfied noises as you push into her hand, your eyes closing.

[myladyship]

Bruce and Natasha 'flirting in Age of Ultron

12 year old me, a full fledge Romanogers after watching Ca: the winter soldier: WTF is this?!

[winterwiqow]

Black Widow Aesthetic

[incorrectquotesmcu]

Natasha: Hey, look, we're under the mistletoe. You know what that means.

Maria: Nat, that isn't mistletoe.

[Later]

Maria, waking up at four in the morning: Oh my god, she was flirting with me!

[onetruwhore]

😭