Bad Idea, Right?
summary: You haven't heard from her in a couple months, but one single phone call and you simply tripped and fell into her bed. You don't dare to tell anyone in who's sheets you are, but it was casual; can't two people reconnect? That might have been the biggest lie you've ever said.
warnings: Dom!Wanda, Top!Wanda, Sub!Reader, Bottom!Reader, D/s dynamics, Wanda is older than R (No specific age is mentioned), Wanda is referred to be taller than R (no specific height), ex-lovers, second chance romance, nipple stimulation, hickies, fingering (R receiving), Objectification (R is called a 'fucktoy' once) , light choking, praise, degradation , please let me know if there's more
MEN AND MINORS DNI
author's note: English isn't my first language ;D and this is my first time writing smut, so please bear with me on both topics <3
words count: 6.924
not proofread!
listen to:
“Just turn it already!” you heard Kate’s yell, the sound echoing from what you assumed was the kitchen. You were barely paying attention, your legs lazily tangled around a plush pillow, body slumped back into the deep, inviting cushions of the comfortable couch that the Bishop's residence offered. It was a trap for the perfect slumber, one that you had fallen into many times.
Kate’s apartment had yet to disappoint when it came to comfort, a space that had been indirectly chosen as the go-to ‘stop’ for your group. Perhaps it was because you couldn’t remember actually sleeping after the drinks had already made themselves at home in your system, or maybe it was because the late-night conversations stretched on until dawn, coaxing your eyelids to close without a second thought.
But today, you were fucked up. It wasn’t merely your body that ached; it was the weight of the entire week pressing down on you, squeezing out any remnants of peace you might’ve found. And suddenly, nothing was working. The headache lingered stubbornly, a relentless throb that kept itself known even after the vodka mixed with passion fruit that sat half-finished on the coffee table. Somewhere between the walls, Kate, Yelena, and Peter were pouring drinks down their throats, their usual antics harmless—most of the time—and comfortingly familiar. Usually, you would be the one shaking their heads after each shot, attempting to intensify the warm feeling of the alcohol coursing through their veins. But tonight, you simply weren’t in the mood to join in.
You heard the third buzz of your phone somewhere between your legs, the pillow, and the couch, the possible content doing nothing to spark your curiosity. Lazily, you searched for your mobile, freezing instantly as the content finally revealed itself.
Upcoming call from Maximoff.
Your drunken instincts kicked in before you could fully process the situation; you quickly answered the call and adjusted your posture on the couch, a nervous habit you still hadn’t managed to shake off even after months apart.
“Y/N.”
You first heard a sigh, followed by your name, and suddenly, it felt strange, as if it wasn’t truly yours until she said it. Her voice was sharp, direct, and certain, just as it always was when she wanted something. You had to restrain yourself from sighing in response to her tone. Wanda had a knack for ensuring her undertone was unmistakable, her intentions loud and clear even through the silence that accompanied her words.
“Y/N?”
She repeated, this time as a question. No undertone, no sigh—just a hint of confusion that you could almost picture settling into her face, accompanied by that adorable frown and slight tilt of her head. The thought of it sent a wave of panic coursing through you, prompting you to abruptly end the call. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you tried to gather your thoughts. Suddenly, your mind was inundated with a flurry of notifications. You contemplated various responses: “Hey Wanda,” “Hi Wanda,” “Sup,” mentally cursing yourself for the last one. You considered “What is it?”, “Are you okay?” ,“Fuck you.”, "Fuck me". But in the end, you settled for a simple “hi wanda,” knowing she hated whenever her name was written without capital letters.
You could feel your heartbeat on every inch of your body. Uncomfortably pulsing and almost burning as if to remind you of how much Wanda Maximoff still affected you - not that you needed one, her hold on you made itself known every night; when it was late enough to hear the breeze touching the tree leafs and you had your hand buried between your legs, your index finger drawing teasing circles on the wetness that you’ve found, and her name unconsciously escaping from your mouth.
The exchanged messages had you sighing, your mind trapped into a haze that, even from afar, Wanda knew exactly how to get you in; rather it was on purpose or not.
Throughout the months, your friends had been tortured by your thoughts. Your constant texts in the group chat, or never ending rants complaining about how much you missed your ex, had earned you a handful of complaints and curses enough to write a trilogy. They already knew by heart each and every protest you’d make about your past relationship. It was always about Wanda’s hugs, Wanda’s kiss, Wanda’s cooking, Wanda’s voice, Wanda’s hands, Wanda’s couch, Wanda’s - everything.. Kate wished out loud her desire to receive a nickel for every time she was obligated to hear that very same name, last name, and nickname come from your mouth.
The name, last name and nickname who was telling you to come over at that very moment. And yes, maybe you'd cursed every single member of her family over and over again, wished upon her future children an impossible ugliness —a thought you knew would never hold up, given that she looked like she’d been handpicked by God himself. But then again, by the time Wanda sended you a teasing picture, called you by a sweet pet name, and then topped it off with a simple, "I miss you" you did not have any power over your own being anymore.
Before you knew it, your phone was slipped into your small black purse, and you were making your way toward the inebriated group of friends. Kate, noticing the purse strap on your bare shoulder, looked at you with a drunk pout. “Where are you going?” she asked, her words slurring slightly as she grabbed your wrist.
“I’ve got a terrible migraine… thought I’d go home to rest a bit,” you replied, giving the girl a shy smile, trying your best to hide the real intentions behind that decision. Kate and the others launched into a half-hearted effort to convince you to stay, almost begging for you to spend a little more time with them and sleep at the Bishop’s residence. But their words barely registered. All you could hear was the soft echo of Wanda’s text—“make it 20” - you'd rather ignore the first part of the message for the sake of your underwear —burning insistently in your mind. With a quick kiss on each of their cheeks, you ducked out of their grasp and slipped out of the building, your steps quickening with each floor you passed.
You slid into the driver’s seat, pausing for a moment to consider what you were doing. Were you really wrecking all your plans with your best friends for that woman? yes. Was it honestly worth it to see Wanda after all these months apart? yes. Was it worth the actual migraine you’d probably end up with, giving in to something you already knew would end the same way? yes
Without reaching any real conclusions, your fingers moved on their own, starting the car's engine in one familiar motion. Wanda’s address blinked on the display—an unknown location, yet somehow instinctive. You didn’t think twice before following it, your heart pounding as you watched the traffic lights change colors.
You look at the building through your window. A what seemed to be a quiet place, with no more than four floors and a few balconies with flowers. You took a deep breath next, sending Wanda a text while waiting inside the comfort of your car.
With each step you took, your breathing grew heavier, almost labored, as if the weight of anticipation was the only thing your body could process. The strap of your bag, though light, now felt like it was searing into your skin, a reminder of what was waiting, or rather who was waiting for you. Your calves ached with each stride, an all-too-familiar burn that reminded you of the countless times Wanda had called you in the middle of the night, her voice always assertive with a sweet, demanding, urgent, undertone. Every nerve seemed attuned to the memory of those late-night rendezvous, your body tense with the knowledge of what lay ahead, and yet unable—unwilling—to stop.
And with a single turn, there she was. Her hair, now a rich, dark brunette - a contrast to the auburn color you’d always known - complimented her features like any other could, although, if you could be honest, you’d say that to any color on the rainbow’s entirety as long as it was on her. Her smirk, almost boor, sends shivers down your spine, reminding you of what you were getting yourself into with that simple look.
She stood there, her back casually pressed against the doorpost and body contoured by a single lay of fabric, a simple lace nightgown colored in a deep crimson tone, a piece of fabric that you had never seen before. It hugged all the curves of her body, leaving just enough to imagination but more than you could possibly handle right now. The image made a possessive, jealous, nature want to come out of your being. Although you did make yourself overcome the overwhelming urge to pull her into the room, out of any sight that was not your own; begrudge still lingered inside you, caused by her initiative of standing on the door like that, where anyone could see her wearing something so informal, so inviting.
Before you knew it, you found yourself standing in front of her, your eyes locked in a silent exchange for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. The air was thick with mutual tension, an unspoken energy crackling between you. In a swift motion, Wanda reached out and grasped the strap of your bag that clung to your shoulder, pulling you effortlessly into the apartment. The door clicked shut behind you, your body now pressed against the cold surface, an intense contrast to the hot kisses that were now displayed on your neck and collarbone.
Wanda’s hands grabbed your purse, tossing it onto the familiar couch in the living room with a casual flick of her wrist. In an instant, her body was pressed against yours like second nature, a sense of urgency irradiating through both of your bodies. Her right hand now on your thigh, pushed you more against the door, her grip possessive as a growl left her lips at the outfit you chose.
“Why are you wearing pants?” She boldly complained. Saying it casually as if she had seen your face everyday for the past months. It was as if she hadn’t spent countless nights searching through her phone for memories of the two of you. If she were to count that, then she truly had seen your face every day, of every week, of every month you’ve been apart, but it’s not like she’d ever tell you that. So instead, Wanda pretended to act normal, a decision that made anger boil on your veins, but you opted on playing into her gaming, giving in to what she wanted.
“It’s cold, I was at Kate’s” it was a simple explanation, but one that Wanda was all too familiar with, so she just nodded her head along with your words. Her hands now climbing the curves of your body and resting on your neck, fingers applying enough pressure so you know it’s there, but not enough to make you moan and beg. And she knows that. Wanda knows that if she applies a little more pressure on her fingers, you’ll be whining unwittingly, the sweet sound escaping your lips even before you could think of it. But she’d rather wait. Taking in your soft features, the ones that she was too tired of seeing just through the confines of her phone screen; never being able to touch, just remembering like some kind of torture.
With a single finger, she tilted your jaw up to meet her eyes. A frown grew on your face once she just stared at you, you wondered what thoughts were swirling behind that penetrating stare; hoping it was the same as yours. No movement was made aside from the gentle caress of her thumb on your chin, tender like a feather but as vital as her stare. She moved impossibly closer and you envelope her waist in your arms in a familiar and intuitive action, hands moving below the delicate fabric of her nightgown, gently moving to the curve of her bum to caress her back tenderly.
Her thumb then moved to your bottom lip, tugging it down gently before pinching your chin, a teasing movement that made you smile, just like it always did. Likewise, a smile took control of her features before she gently bent down, meeting your already parted lips with hers.
Unlike you had thought, she kissed you slowly, tenderly, taking her time with your mouth as gently as she could, sliding her tongue through both of your lips, meeting yours with a small hum. Her breath mingled with yours, warm and inviting, filling you with a sense of belonging that had been missing for far too long. God, you've missed Wanda’s kiss
You tried to pull away, waiting to see her face, but she instantly pulled you back, murmuring a soft murmur of denial “Uh Uhm”. You had no recall if you spended the last seconds, minutes or hours kissing her like this, the next thing you noticed was the kiss turning even more heated with each passing seconds. Her lust showing not only on her lips but also in her hands, those that traveled relentlessly every inch of your body she could access.
Wanda tapped your thigh three times, quietly telling you to grab your legs around her. Which you gladly did, your arms now circling her shoulder the same way your legs tangled themselves around her midsection. She never once stopped kissing you, making her way through the unknown apartment to what you assumed - and not so secretly hoped - was her room.
Your assumption made itself true when she threw you in a soft bed, her hands quickly working to take off the pants she had complained about earlier, tossing them somewhere with a teasing smile. Her hands now turned to roughly grip your thighs, moving her body and fingers up towards you so that your back pressed against the headboard.
“Don’t ruin it” you murmured once Wanda’s hands settled on your collarbone, your shirt trapped in her palm as she held onto it until her knuckles turned white. You heard a huff pass through her natural red lips - a consequence of the immeasurable time you spent kissing her - as she took your shirt off gently, an intense contrast to her idea of just ripping it up.
Along with your bra, the rest of your clothes receive the same unknown destination of your pants with a casual toss. You pouted at her, hands on her waist to pull her closer in urgency, now hating the piece of fabric that made shivers run down your body when you first saw it, taking it only as an annoying, irritating, barrier between both of your heated bodies.
“Don’t be a brat, Y/N” Wanda murmured, a low familiar tone which made you whine, recognizing what that meant even after the time apart. Your answer came with a quick shake of head, a defiance in your glare as to show you weren’t agreeing with her on that; at least not after the torturous months where you had only your fingers and an old vibrator hidden in the last drawer of your bedside table.
She sighed, galled at your reaction. To prove you wrong, her hands quickly parted your legs, pressing her knee against your center. In mock, she imitated your reaction, her lips parting open together with yours, a smirk on her face as she looked at you in amusement. Asking, without words, how long would you keep up the act she already knew all the words too.
"You have no idea how much I've missed you. Be a good girl, hm?" even if Wanda was asking, you knew better than to take that by anything other than a demand. So you weakly nod. Deciding on not fooling her, or you, anymore.
"Are you drunk?" she tenderly asks, her right hand angled perfectly on your breast as you felt the other pinning you down on the bed. You shook your head, the medium dose at Kate's house not being enough to inebriate you. Of alcohol? no. Of her? That's entirely different.
"Are you?" you asked, remembering vaguely of the bottle of liquor sitting lonely at her center table you've had a glimpse while she dragged you to the room. Wanda denied with her hand, pinching your already erect nipple. A moan emitted from deep inside you as she roughly played with the already sore protruding part.
"Always so sensitive" She murmured, bent down to whisper in your ear, placing a soft kiss on the side of your face. "Did you miss me too, Y/N?"
How could I not? The thought echoed in your mind, undeniable. But feeding her ego wasn't something you were looking for right now, her smirk already wide enough as it was.
She chuckled dryly, biting on your earlobe "Ah, ah... you know how this works, baby. Answer me" Wanda replied to your weak nod. Her hand on your waist now moving dangerously down, squeezing your inner thigh.
"Yes. Yes, Wanda. I've missed you too" came your response, as weak as your nod. The woman smiled, revelling on that pleasurable look on your face. Her hands playing with the waistband of your already drenched underwear. A whine escaped from your lips once she perfectly placed her thumb on your clit through the wet spot of the fabric, a hot tongue now circling your nipples, making you arch your hips towards her.
You were all too familiar with Wanda's teasing. The way her light fingers would run through every single corner of your body, never applying pressure on where you want, but enough to send shivers down your body. She took her time, wondering how long it would take until you were completely, broken, desperate.
If you were familiar with her teasing, Wanda was familiar with your body, she knew every knot that made your eyes roll and legs twitch; she knew every word that would make your clit pulse just beneath her fingers.
“Still think this was a bad idea, Y/N?” she asked boldly, her voice low, taunting, with that teasing smirk that made you want to both kiss and slap her all at once. Not indulging her needs you nodded your head, your lips sealed, hiding the moan your body craved to let out.
Wanda chuckled, moving your panties to the side as her index finger ran across your folds. She smiles at the sharky breath you let out, always loving to prove you wrong. “Hm… is that so, baby? Then why is this pussy dripping wet for me?” Before you knew it, her finger was inside the confines of your mouth, making you suck your own arousal off of it. “Are you going to deny that as well?”
You knew Wanda well enough to know that she didn’t expect an answer, at least not with your tongue circling her finger. Her other hand quickly worked to rip your underwear; her finger, now wet from your mouth, circling your neck, applying the pressure you were searching for since she dragged you into the apartment. She wanted to hear your complaint about the destroyed fabric, one that came as soon as you heard the noise. The first one of your underwear being ripped and the second one caused by the pop of her finger once she forced your sucking to come to a stop. “Wanda!”
“If you’re going to complain I might have to stuff this pretty mouth with something other than my fingers” She challenged, as if you didn’t know this was exactly what she was looking for. “Is that what you want, Y/N?”
Wanda’s questions were all rhetoric, her teasing way of nudging you into that soft, hazy headspace she adored seeing you in. And, of course, you knew that, but you let her lead you there anyway. Revelling in the feeling just as much as she did. You felt the urge to respond, even if she wasn’t technically waiting for an answer. So you shook your head with conviction, your resolve melting under her gaze.
Wanda chuckled, spreading your legs as her fingers settled between them, one hand running through your folds, collecting the wetness at your entrance; and the other slowly circling your bundle of nerves, pinching it occasionally just so she could see you jump. You had no recall of the time she spent toying with your body, but her lips had a smile into it as her gaze burned on your pink folds, your wetness now on your inner thighs, almost reaching her white bed sheets.
“Wanda” You called her, your voice a bare whisper as you whined, back arching towards her along with your waist that tried to reach her fingers to somewhere else other than your clit. Her bedsheets clinged into your body, getting messier with each movement, mimicking your hair.
“Yes? What do you need, pretty girl?” Her words made you whine softly, your hands clutching at her nightgown with urgency. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, feeling the warmth of her presence before looking up at her with a pout, the need in your gaze unmistakable. Wanda smiled, bent down to whisper against your lips, her free hand tightening her grip around your neck. “Whiny, whiny girl… if I hadn’t missed you so much I would make you beg right now. Not tonight though”
At the relieved look on your face Wanda raised her eyebrow, her features unable to hide the amusement expression on her face. “Well, I won’t make you beg… but you’ve already forgotten your manners?”
“Please, Wanda… Please..please”
“Good girl”
You honestly couldn’t recall if you moaned due to her words or the two fingers finding their way inside your drenched cunt. But either way, your waist was moving desperately against her fingers as she curled them inside of you, finding that oh so sweet spot within seconds.
She played with your clit with her free hand, not so gently toying with the already simulated bundle of nerves. Green orbs gently searched for all of your reactions, not daring to miss a single thing about your features, she has missed you enough to deprive herself from that by now.
“How many times did you touch yourself thinking about me, love?"
A lot, and you both knew that. You couldn’t point one single time where her eyes weren’t inside your head while your fingers were inside your pussy. You’ve tried to mimic her movements; tried to picture the words she used to tell you. And, if you were honest, you only had an orgasm on your own because at least three of your thoughts were about her. Nothing was more arousing than Wanda Maximoff.
Although none of this escaped the confines of your head, it didn’t take a mind reader to know the reason behind your crimson cheeks and incessant whines.
“Poor baby… you’re so needy without me” - Her voice was sweet, sweet enough to be degrative as she looked at you. Eyebrows almost touching and lips pouting. A perfect look of faux sympathy.
By the time Wanda increased her speed, you were already a mess. Legs twitching, eyes rolling back, back arching forward and arms searching for her. Wanda thought she would cum just from the sight, your pretty body so vulnerable, looking for her in despair, practically begging for anything she could think of giving you.
“You’re so wet… I can feel you squeezing my fingers, my love. Tell me, did you miss being my little slut?”
You’ve missed Wanda’s voice. Was the first thing you thought when the words met your ears. The second was a moan. A loud, desperate moan at her words. Unfortunately for you, moans weren’t enough for Wanda’s hunger now. So when no reply came from you abused pink lips, Wanda made sure that other parts of your body were pink too.
You swear you could cum right there once her palm roughly met your ass, and then your clitoris, and then your ass again. It’s not like you hadn’t been degraded, or praised, or spanked in this span of months. But how you’ve missed Wanda’s hands. After all, no one does it like a Maximoff.
“Yes! Yes, Wanda, Yes! I’ve missed being your little slut. Please” You begged - cried. Words falling off your mouth like dominoes.
People say that to be loved is to be heard, and Wanda absolutely loved hearing you. The soft pleas and breathy whispers slipping from your lips as she decided what to do with you were music to her ears, each sound a reminder of the hold she still had over you, the confidence you had in her.
Others may say that to be loved is to be seen, which she couldn’t agree more, remembering the soft mornings were your legs were tangled around hers, your stable breath against her neck as she watched you sleep peacefully, insistent locks of hair blocking her view from your whole face as she let out a huff and gently pushed them aside, trying to savor every detail of those quiet moments, even through her memories.
Whether love meant to be seen or heard, Wanda knew she would give every single sensation and feeling to you. She would See, Hear, Smell, Taste and especially Touch you for all her life. The intensity of her devotion now was almost laughable compared to her actions months ago.
But she’d give every part of herself to you, even if that was one of the parts of her that she always kept hidden, specially from you.
As she looked at you, she noticed your breathing becoming more labored, a series of soft whines escaping your lips. Your hips moved instinctively, seeking out her fingers. The ones that were already pounding inside of you fast and rough.
“Oh. You’re gonna cum? I know baby.. I know”
Wanda cooed, bending down so that her lips were almost touching yours. As you tried to kiss her, you felt the air being blocked from your throat as her hand found home there once again. Her voice sweetly founding your ears as she displayed marks just below your earlobe.
“Cum for me, Y/N. Show how much you’ve missed being my fucktoy”
If your trembling legs weren’t enough a sign to show her that your orgasm was close, the sound coming from your lips certainly got the job done. The feeling of her fingers trapped inside your stimulated walls and her sweet words on your eyes made you see stars even before you came undone beneath her.
“Oh.. Good girl. Uhum… just like that, honey”
Fortunately, or not, Wanda wouldn’t be stopping until your sixth orgasm under her tongue. Making you so overstimulated that just the bare feeling of her knee against your pussy had tears falling down on the side of your face.
Whether it was the exhaustion of your overworked body or the steady rhythm of Wanda’s heartbeat beneath your head, you couldn’t tell. But you’d never felt such peace in your life. The warmth of her body against yours and your legs so perfectly tangled together made you wonder how you’d ever managed to sleep without this.
When the rays of sun managed to overcome the dense curtain in the room, enlightening everything it reached, Wanda was already awake. Her fingers light, as to not wake you up, tracing your features softly. Wanting to crave in her mind how your cheeks felt so soft beneath her fingertips, how you hummed in your sleep and unconsciously searched for her waist, pressing your bodies even closer.
Wanda let out a soft, annoyed sigh as stray locks of your hair slipped across your face, obscuring her view. Carefully, she brushed them back behind your ear, her fingertips lingering just a moment longer than necessary. She gazed at you with a tenderness so raw that, had you been awake to see it, you might have buried your face against her collarbone, overcome with emotion.
Reluctantly, Wanda forced herself to slip out of the bed, carefully breaking free of your intense grip, prying your arms from around her with care. She paused for a moment, looking down at you, and then carefully pulled the covers up to shield your goose-pimpled skin. Satisfied that you were tucked in, she quietly made her way to the bathroom, the soft sound of her steps barely breaking the silence.
Maybe it was the soft hum of the shower, the sunlight streaming directly onto your face, or the subtle emptiness beside you that stirred you awake. Your eyes fluttered open, landing on the closed bathroom door. You sighed, small whines of complaint slipping out as you forced your sore body, scanning the room for something to wear as your own clothes were in some corner still to be found.
Without a second thought, you padded over to Wanda’s closet, grabbing a pair of her cozy gray sweatpants. You slipped them on, feeling an instant relief as they shielded your bare legs from the chilly morning air—a warmth that, until now, had only been Wanda’s. Her hoodie was quickly on your body as you stretched yourself.
Blindly making your way to the living room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings; a cozy apartment when compared to the fancy uptown building Wanda used to call home back in your days together. our eyes quickly found your purse, discarded in the corner of the couch. You reached for it, quickly pulling out our phone that, to your surprise, still had battery, the screen lighting up with a soft glow.
Upcoming call from ‘Alcohoes’
You playfully rolled your eyes, You threw yourself onto the couch, the cushions welcoming your tired body - how you’ve missed Wanda’s couch - as you accepted the call from your friend group.
“Do you guys really need to friend-group call me?” You complained as soon as you got the call.
Wanda stepped out of the shower, her body now relaxed and enlaced around another nightgown. She frowned once she noticed you were nowhere inside her room, But her answer quickly came as she heard your voice coming from the living room.
Wanda stepped out of the shower, steam still lingering in the air as she wrapped herself in a fresh nightgown, the fabric clinging to her skin. She frowned when she noticed you weren’t in the room, unsuccessfully searching the room for any sight of you that were not your clothes discharged near her bedside table. A quiet frustration bubbled up inside her, but it didn’t take long for her to get an answer.
Your voice floated in from the living room, carrying faintly through the apartment, a sound that instantly pulled her attention away from the emptiness of her room.
She arrived just in time to catch the tail end of your conversation, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she watched you say your goodbyes. Without a word, she approached quietly, her steps soft against the floor. The moment you ended the call, her body settled over yours, her warmth pressing you into the couch, her weight a familiar comfort. Wanda's smile grew as she leaned in, her face inches from yours as her body pressed you against the couch.
“So you’re lying to your friends now?” - She teased, kissing you jawline before taking your phone from you, tossing it as carefully as she could on the other side of the couch.
“I’m not lying. I told them I was asleep. It’s the truth” you murmured back, a smirk on your face as you caress her skin with the tip of your fingers. Wanda thought for a moment, her index finger running up and down your jawline before she whispered “But you never said where”
“Do you want me to tell my friends whose sheets I’m in, Wanda? Are you going to tell yours?” You challenged, eyebrows rising as you features that Wanda had adored for hours showed an amusement expression.
“Touché, pretty girl. Let’s fetch you some breakfast. Shall we?” She grinned playfully, slipping her hand into yours and giving it a gentle tug, leading you toward the kitchen, her fingers laced with yours felt sending a pleasant warmth up your arm as she moved with purpose.
As Wanda moved through the kitchen, rummaging through cabinets and gathering ingredients, you hopped up onto the countertop, letting your legs swing back and forth as you watched her. She was only a few steps away, her expression so focused and casual, that made your heart ache.
The sight of her like this felt so intimate that it hurted. Even now, with her close enough to reach out and touch, you couldn’t shake the longing that clung to you, a reminder of the distance you'd crossed to be here.
Wanda chuckled softly when she spotted you perched on the countertop, a glint of amusement in her eyes as she approached, sliding effortlessly between your legs. Her hands found their way to your waist, grounding you as she looked up with a teasing smile.
“You know,” she murmured, her gaze flicking over to a nearby stool, “there’s a perfectly good seat right there.”
“Oh.. really? I didn’t realize” you smirk, faking surprised as you turned her head to where her gaze landed. “Brat,” Wanda murmured under her breath, a smirk ghosting on her lips as she took in the sight of you in her clothes—oversized and somehow fitting you perfectly at the same time. Her gaze lingered, softening as it traced over every familiar curve hidden under her sweater and sweats. She looked up, eyes meeting yours with that familiar glint.
“I’ll deal with you later,” she promised softly, squeezing your thighs over the gray sweatpants before turning back to the stove to begin making the pancakes. It was strange—how the months of silence between you hadn’t been addressed, how you were now sitting on her counter as if nothing had changed, nothing had been broken. The soft sounds of her moving around the kitchen, the rhythmic tapping of the spatula, the gentle hum of her presence, made everything else feel distant. You wanted to fight, to yell, to ask her why the hell it had taken so long to get here, but the way she moved, so calm and unbothered, made every word die in your throat.
Breakfast didn’t take long to prepare. The scent of pancakes filled the air, a comfort you didn’t realize you missed. Before you knew it, Wanda was placing a plate in front of the stool behind you, the warm food topped with fresh strawberries and bananas. She sets both the chocolate and honey syrups next to the plates. Silently inviting you to sit on the stool instead.
You did as she asked, hopping off the counter with a playful huff and making your way to the stool beside her. The moment you sat down, though, a frown tugged at your lips when you realized she wasn’t sitting right next to you. Instead, she moved to the counter to grab the fresh orange juice, her back to you as she opened one of the drawers near the sink. It was a small, almost insignificant action, but it hit you harder than you expected. The sight of her grabbing the strainer made something heavy settle in your chest.
You knew she remembered. You knew she knew how much you hated the foamy texture of freshly squeezed juice. She’d always done this for you—even if she complained, and teased and called you a child, - She’s always strained it every morning, without fail, just to make sure you didn’t have to deal with the foam. And now, seeing her do it again, it was almost too much. The ache in your chest flared, and for a moment, you felt that familiar, painful sense of longing. It was like nothing had changed, even though everything had.
With the juice in front of you and Wanda standing by your side, you murmured a soft "Thank you," your voice barely above a whisper. You took a bite of the pancakes, the sweetness of the strawberries and bananas mixing perfectly with the warm, fluffy texture of the pancakes. You savored every bite, the familiar taste pulling at something deep inside you. You’ve missed Wanda’s cooking.
“Is it good?” She asked, looking at you with her face resting on her hand.
“It’s wonderful, Wands” You praised, the nickname making Wanda’s breath get lost in her throat as she had to pull herself together. “No one does it like a Maximoff”
“What?” she chuckled as she asked, her tone light but with an undercurrent of curiosity, her eyebrows slightly raised.
“It’s nothing.. It’s just a joke Kate and I used to say after she hooked up with Pietro”
This time, Wanda truly laughed, a genuine, unexpected sound that filled the air. The answer was nothing she had expected. She looks at you with a smile, her eyes wide, shocked yet amused to hear something like that.
“I honestly don’t think I want to hear how that happened”
A silence rested in the room for a moment. It wasn't comfortable, yet it wasn’t completely awkward either—just an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. The soft clink of utensils against plates was the only sound, punctuated by the occasional sip of juice. Both of you ate the rest of the pancakes, chewing slowly, as if the quiet was part of the meal itself. The light from the window cast a gentle glow across the table, making the moment feel oddly serene, even if the silence remained a little too thick.
You got up from your seat, gathering both plates in your hands, and headed to the sink to wash them, returning the favor since she'd cooked the meal. The warm water ran over your hands as you scrubbed, but you suddenly felt your body tense when Wanda’s arms slipped gently around your midsection from behind. Her chin found a comfortable resting spot on your shoulder, her presence soft and grounding - You’ve missed Wanda’s hugs.
Then, you felt the warmth of her lips as she placed a tender kiss on your neck, just where the edge of your hoodie left a small patch of skin exposed. It was a small, quiet moment, but it lingered, filling the air with something that felt unspoken yet deeply understood.
“I want to see you again” She murmured against your skin. biting on it gently as to indulge you in agreeing.
“Wanda..” You warned, you face barely over a whisper as you sigh, your head falling to the side as you continue to wash a mug. Not really paying attention but refusing to fully give in to the woman.
“I know.. I know” She sighs, tightening her grip. “But can’t two people reconnect?”
You closed your eyes tightly, feeling the weight of her words settle over you, each one resonating with an intensity that left you almost breathless. A heavy sigh escaped you, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself, but the impact was undeniable. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, feeling the weight of silence say more than words could in that moment.
“It can be casual” she tried once again. Even if the phrase went against her beliefs, she'd do anything to make you agree, nothing mattered more in that moment than reaching you, convincing you.
“Liar” It was all you managed to say.
But you were right, and both of you knew it. The truth hung between you, undeniable and clear. You and Wanda were too intense to be just casual—there was too much fire, too much depth simmering beneath the surface. Every glance, every touch felt charged, as if holding back a force neither of you could ignore. There was no pretending, no easy way to make it something light. What you shared demanded more, something deeper, something that couldn’t be confined to the surface.
“Yeah. You’re right. I don’t want nothing casual when it comes to you”
You lazily dried your hands with the dishcloth she kept by the sink, your movements slow and almost reluctant. Turning around, still wrapped in her arms, you looked up at her, a hint of defeat in your eyes. Her gaze met yours, and you felt the weight of everything unsaid pressing between you.
“This is a bad idea” You whispered as you felt her warm hands cupping your cheeks. Her thumb sweetly caresses the skin just like she had done it the other night.
"No... It'll be a bad idea if I continue to live without having you here," she murmured, her voice vulnerable and sweet, like you'd never heard it before. The softness in her tone caught you off guard, as if every word was wrapped in a quiet honesty, the kind that made her seem more fragile than you’d ever imagined. Her eyes held yours with an intensity that spoke volumes, and for the first time, you saw a side of her that was completely unguarded, raw and full of longing.
So you nodded your head, a quiet agreement settling in your chest. The thought of not having her, of continuing on and only ever complaining about how you didn't have her, seemed almost unbearable now.
Because just like your friends have heard countless times. You’ve missed Wanda’s hands, Wanda’s kisses, Wanda’s hugs, Wanda’s couch, Wanda’s cooking,. You missed Wanda in her entirety. You wanted to hear, to feel, to taste, to touch, to look at her everyday.
And if this was a bad idea, you’d rather see the movie all over again, even if the ending ached too much. It was better than not having her at all. It was enough.
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thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it💌
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