Lizzie olsen

(Note: it's not a lot currently ill add more if i do stumble across more in terms of fic hunting but so far this is it for now, sorry if its not a ton. Happy reading tho!)

Current fic count amount: 26 43

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

ASK fic 1

Among the Graves

Between us

Break up with your girlfriend

Cocky

Stress relief

Helping hand

Iron on Your Lips | Taste

Is that my shirt?

Losing game

Tempting the devil

Heart of darkness

Deus in Nobis

Tension

Dream a little dream

Falling into place

The witch in the woods

Seducing Miss Maximoff

To have and to hold

Wolves of the night part 1

Wolves of the night part 2

High stakes part 1

High stakes part 2

Leigh Shaw x Reader

Wanting what she can't have part 1

Wanting what she can't have part 2

Wanting what she can't have part 3

Wanting what she can't have part 4

Wanting what she can't have part 5

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Control me

Do it again

Show me

Talking in your sleep

You're mine Part 1

You're mine part 2

WandaNat x Reader

Chaos at the carnival

Ties that bind part 1 Mistaken Identity

Ties that bind part 2 Gilded Cage

Ties that bind part 3 Forsaken and Forgotten

Ties that bind Part 4 Bite the hand that Feeds

Ties that bind Part 5 Pavlov's Bell

No going back

All I ask of you Part 1 Judgement

Wanda always thought of herself as bisexual and she was so curious about girls when she was a teen, but before she could explore that, Vision asked her out. He was charming and patient and he made her feel seen… At least at first. She ended up married to him, “her high school sweetheart” and the first boy she ever slept with. Now, in the second half of her thirties, with a failed marriage behind her, she regretted that she didn’t let herself explore more. She realized that she is so inexperienced, that she had missed so much, that she’s lost so much time… Time she can never get back. Back then, when they were still young and she was naïve, he promised to take care of her, to stand beside her… To make her feel good. He never did. Not the first time, not any other time after that. She thinks she maybe came that one time, when she was really drunk, but she’s still not sure. If that was what an orgasm was like, she certainly never understood the glorification of sex. Not that she’s ever had any comparison. She didn’t learn to touch herself when she was young and when the two of them got together and he started taking her to church, she was told she shouldn’t even try to… God, she didn’t even know what she looked like down there. And now? Now it felt like it’s too late. Who would even want her? The thought of having to date someone felt so depressing. All the wives at the church kept trying to set her up with men just like Vision… They had stable jobs, they golfed on the weekends, they made misogynistic jokes and they were completely and utterly boring!

Only Natasha, Wanda’s best friend, seemed to understand that Wanda needed something different. She had tried to set her up with a woman named Agatha. A tall brunette with striking blue eyes. Agatha was charming when she wanted to be, even if she seemed a little too cocky, but there was always something predatory behind her eyes. Something calculated in the way she moved… It made Wanda uneasy, so she asked around. Turnes out, Agatha was known quite well among the housewives of Westview and she was often invited for tea, or book club. Suspiciously, it was always whenever someone’s husband was out of town or at work. “Natasha, she’s slept with half the town!” Wanda grumbled one night, letting her blonde hair spill free and sitting on the couch with a thud. She pulled her glass of wine closer, taking a big gulp. “So what? It means she knows what she’s doing! Didn’t you say you want someone experienced?” “Not that experienced!” Wanda gave her friend a sharp look. “This is Westview, Wanda, your choices are limited.” Natasha reminded, which only intensified Wanda’s disapproving glare. “You know, maybe you have to broaden your horizons a bit. Try a dating website perhaps?” “No!” The blonde made a grimace. “Your choice, Wands…” Natasha pulled her hands back in a gesture of surrender… But the idea stuck with her. Yes, this was exactly what her friend needed, she decided…

                                                        *             *             * “Natasha, I can’t date a person off the internet!” Wanda protested again. It had been a week since Natasha first brought it up. Since then, the redhead had made the decision to sign Wanda up anyway. She was careful of course. She used only Wanda’s initials and put up tasteful pictures that didn’t show her friend’s face, in order to still respect her privacy. “Sure, you can! It’s time, Wanda. You can’t wait for love to find you. You have to put yourself out there.” Natasha reasoned. “Just take a look and if you don’t like anyone, I’ll leave it alone.” Wanda wasn’t truly interested in looking at profiles at first, but indulged Natasha just so she would drop the subject, but as soon as she saw your picture, she perked right up. She first met you at the church choir, always thinking you were such a beautiful girl. She liked standing close by when you sang, in fact, when you were at the church, which wasn’t often at all, she always liked to hover nearby. She remembers speaking to you once, while you were in a group of people together too. She certainly remembers feeling like you were the only person there, so soft-spoken and sweet. But she doubts you know who she is, or that you even remember her. She tried not to show too much excitement when she saw you, but Natasha wasn’t blind, she could see the interest in her friend’s eyes and she asked enough about you to make sure she had Wanda nice and hyped. She knew the blonde’s curiosity and restless mind would do the rest of the work for her and she wasn’t wrong. Wanda couldn’t stop thinking about you, returning to your profile so many times she knew your bio by heart and she had the few pictures you have added saved on her phone. She considered messaging you for days, but just couldn’t bring herself to do it. What if people found out? What if you went to church tomorrow and told everyone that Wanda Maximoff of all people, a woman much older than you, messaged you on a dating app. What would they think of her? The rumours and whispers would kill her. At the same time, she was scared. What if you did agree to see her? She had no idea how to make a woman feel good. She didn’t even know how to please her own body. The glaring truth of her inexperience tortured her, so she watched videos of girls, noting their reactions to different things. She read blogs, she researched erogenous zones, all the while the wetness grew between her legs and her anticipation skyrocketed, until she knew she had to at least try to ask you out.

She waited for choir practice to be over one Friday and asked you to stay, so she could talk to you. Her hands were shaky and she felt more nervous than she’s been in years, but she tried to look composed, not wanting to scare you away. She had you in a pew, sitting next to her. You were telling her about how your parents first signed you up for the church choir in your home town when you were little and how you kept up with it when you moved for college because singing helped you relax. “I like the ritual of church, I suppose.” You said, lowering your voice. “I mostly just like to sing… But I don’t really have much time to join every practice.” You admitted shyly, a little nervous that you might insult Wanda’s beliefs. “I think I know what you mean.” Wanda nodded. Ever since the divorce, she’d been re-examining her relationship with the Almighty and with the church… And then she’d stopped going. Being here had brought up too many memories. She knew it would. In fact, she only came back for you. For this new beginning. And despite herself she said a silent prayer. “Please don’t let this be a mistake.” Wanda was happy that she got to know you at least a little. That she had this small connection to hold close to her heart. In fact she wanted to know so much more about you, but in the end she couldn’t help but confess her true intentions. That she saw your profile and just wanted to see if you’d be willing to go out with her. She gathered all her courage just to take your hand in hers and gave you her most charming smile, even as her heart pounded in her chest. Clearly you were surprised, not expecting someone from the church to be looking at dating apps, let alone that you would be lucky enough for it to be the most beautiful woman in the whole congregation and for a moment Wanda mistook that for rejection, her face betraying the hurt she felt.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” She stammered, letting go of your hand as if it burned. “You’re a beautiful young girl, of course you wouldn’t go out with someone so much older than you.” She apologized, standing so she could make her escape as quickly as possible, humiliation turning her cheeks pink. Despite her best efforts, she had allowed herself to be exited about asking you out and now that she felt rejected, she couldn’t help but feel all her insecurities surface. “No, wait, Miss Maximoff, it’s not that at all!” You tried to save the situation. You had noticed her too, from your first day in this new town, you had admired her and if you had a chance to go out with her, you absolutely wouldn’t squander it. “You have a girlfriend then?” Wanda stops in her tracks and turns back, tilting her head. The idea infuriates her somehow, even if she didn’t know why. “No, I don’t.” You shake your head, smiling softly, waiting for her to join you. Wanda simply sat back down, her hands in her lap, patiently waiting for an explanation, her features tense and her piercing eyes trained on you. “I would love to go out with you.” You start off, wanting to reassure her. “I just never thought that you…” You hesitate for a moment. “That I would what?” She tilts her head again, this time with curiosity, her green eyes searching yours, as if she could see straight in your soul. “Well… That you were interested in women.” You admit sheepishly. “I’m interested in you.” Wanda corrects you, a sly smile playing on her lips, before standing again and you’re not quite sure how to interpret that statement, but she doesn’t give you time to think much about it. “Come over to my house for dinner. We can talk more then.” It’s a demand, more than an invitation. Something she realizes only after the words are out of her mouth and she tries to mask it with a smile. “Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.” She clarifies as her eyes scan the empty church, so she could make sure that no one heard her. And before you could utter a word, she turns and leaves you there, stunned. She frets about the date the entire time before dinner, making you a home-cooked meal and putting on a nice dress for you. She fixes her make up and puts some extra effort in doing her hair, all so she could impress you. When you arrive, she’s surprised to see you brought her flowers and a bottle of wine and she invites you inside with a warm smile. She puts the flowers in water and leaves them on the dinner table, saying that they give it a finishing touch. At first, she struggles to find a topic for conversation, not sure what to ask a young girl without sounding like your mother. In the end she asks about your interests and hobbies and she quickly relaxes, as you start to speak freely. She adores the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about your favorite books and movies, about your passion for music and singing, about your college courses and your favorite professors. She could tell you admired people who were older than you, people with authority and knowledge and she wanted to be counted among them.

Wanda found it easier, when she kept the conversation around you. She didn’t want to get into the messy details of her divorce, or to have to explain that she had made the mistake of supressing herself for years for the sake of a man. She didn’t want to imagine what you’d think of her when you knew the whole truth, so she just avoided it, content to listen to your funny stories, remembering each new scrap of information she could learn about you. After dinner you sat together on her couch, your legs folded under you. You were ranting and you could tell, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You were mesmerised by her, completely captivated in fact. Whenever she spoke, she somehow found a way to say the right thing, she had a good book to suggest, an endless list of movies to show you, she was wise and caring and she somehow understood people, understood passion and what drove those around her. She had a way of making you feel seen and heard and you couldn’t get enough of her attention. She ended up having to drive you home that night. It had gotten so late that she couldn’t possibly let you go alone. She gave you a long hug and a kiss on the cheek before you left her car, although her eyes lingered on your lips when she pulled away. She got a text from you mere minutes after she left, telling her what a lovely time you’d had with her. She was smiling all night as she cleaned up the dining room, her thoughts always leading back to you, remembering different moments from your dinner together, replaying it in her head over and over again. You continued to text her for the next few days. She wasn’t used to the way your generation kept in touch through texts and memes, but she did her best to keep up, even if she had to google some of it. You always had a new experience, new song, new thing to share with her. Excited about how delicious the meal she had made you was, and the fact that she was a good cook, you had told her you want to learn too. It was a skill your mother never passed on to you, but Wanda was happy to teach you. It made the next dinner much easier to plan. She invited you even earlier the second time around, so you would help her. She chose a recipe that you had suggested and she had it printed on a piece of paper on the counter. You found it endearing that she printed her recipes, that she had a hand-written recipe book on a shelf in the kitchen and that she had a pair of glasses close by, but didn’t feel ready to let you see her with them yet, so she squinted at the printed page instead. The domesticity of it warmed your heart in a way you’d never felt before. The woman was charming, yes, but in her element she was enchanting.

Wanda thought she saw a glimpse of that adoration in your eyes, but could hardly believe it was directed at her. She hardly remembered being looked at this way… If ever. So she distracted herself and made sure to keep you busy as well, asked you to wash the vegetables, stir the pot, or hand her ingredients or utensils, making sure you would familiarize yourself with her kitchen and her space. She even made small corrections to the recipe when she thought the spices weren’t enough, or she thought a different ingredient would suit it better, writing down the corrections in the margins, all while teaching you how to make the meal. It gave her so much joy to have someone to share such moments with and she couldn’t help but blush a little at the way your eyes scanned her body whenever you had a minute free. You always showed her what you’ve done, eating up all her praise and craving her approval, practically beaming whenever she said you’d done a good job. It made her wonder how you’d react to her praise when she had you under her. If you’d blush for her, just like you were doing now… For a moment Wanda wondered if it was wrong of her to have such thoughts for such a young girl. If she was being perverse for initiating a courtship between you… People would certainly think so… She even considered stopping whatever this thing was, perhaps save herself some of the future pain she might feel, but then you stole a piece of cheese from her charcuterie board, jumped up on her counter and gave her a dazzling smile and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to do it. She wouldn’t be able to send you home. The dinner ended up being one of the best meals you’ve had and Wanda smiled widely behind her glass of wine as you moaned in appreciation. This time around, Wanda didn’t shy away from kissing you. It was slow and tentative at first. Just her lips brushing against yours briefly. And it was all it took for Wanda to be hooked. Before you knew it, she had you pinned on her couch, body splayed under her as she kissed you hungrily. She couldn’t get enough. You writhed and panted and you moaned into her mouth, hands pulling her closer. But no matter how badly you needed her or how much you tried to tempt her, she didn’t undress you. God, the woman was a tease. Your underwear was a soaked mess of juices and your clit twitched and throbbed for attention, but remained neglected and untouched, leaving you with only her thigh between your legs as the only source of relief, though she made sure to limit your grinding. She knew what she was doing, of course. And if she was being honest, she was torturing herself as well. She felt just as needy and desperate for relief, but it was too soon to take you to bed. It wasn’t proper…At least that’s what she told herself, even if she had no idea why she clung to those notions. She just knew it wasn’t the right time. And she wanted to do this right.

“I’ll make it up to you.” She promised with a dopy smile on her face, leading you into her car and driving you back to your dorm. “You better.” You teased, giving her your best smile. “Only if you’re a good girl, dear.” Wanda winked, a wide self-satisfied smile spreading across her lips. In the next few days, you saw her often. She’d asked you for your schedule and she came to pick you up for lunch between classes, she took you to picknicks in the afternoon, she arranged small coffee dates in the mornings… Honestly, she would take any opportunity to see you. She found herself thinking of you all the time, daydreaming of you while she did mundane tasks and smiling like a fool for no reason at all. She even came over to your dorm one evening. You had some unfinished assignments and time flew by as you studied and prepared in the library. By the time you were home it was late and your stomach growled disapprovingly, but you had no food in your fridge. You’d forgotten to do your shopping too. Thankfully, Wanda came to your rescue. She brought you some food and she kept you company while you ate and she even cuddled you up on your small bed and watched a movie with you on your laptop, playing gently with your hair. As she kept you close, your head resting on her shoulder, she was tempted to let her hands wonder. She traced your neck with the tips of her fingers, let them run down the length of your arm… She drew mindless shapes on your back and heard you almost purr with pleasure at the touch. But she wanted more. And that desire was getting harder to ignore and push down. When she left that night, endearment flooding her heart at the sight of your sleepy face and drooping eyelids, she made a decision. The next time she sees you, she’ll make you hers. And when she reached her house and crawled into her empty bed, feeling your absence so deeply it almost hurt, she knew she’ll have to do it soon. She texted you that same night in fact. She was taking you on a date. That Saturday Wanda took you to a restaurant. A small, family-owned place with just a few tables, but it was cozy and honestly quite beautiful with the fairy lights hanging from the ceiling and candles on each table. The light was dim and the music was low, letting you really focus on the conversation the two of you had. The food was spectacular and Wanda fed you dessert, one spoonful at a time, smirking at you from the other end of the table. She had chosen a gorgeous black dress, the neckline showing the tops of her breasts and every time she leaned over the table, you could see further down to the black lace of her bra. The view had your mind reeling.

“Do you want to come home with me for a night cap?” She asked as she bit her lip, her green eyes running over your body in a way that made her intentions unmistakable. She was so seductive as she did it, that you could only nod your head in agreement, completely lost for words. The drive back to her house was filled with anticipation. You hardly waited for her to close the door behind you, before you surged forward, pressing your body to hers and kissing her deeply. “Someone’s impatient.” Wanda remarked with a self-satisfied tone, but she barely had time to kick off her shoes, before she was the one pulling you towards her bedroom. You were following her blindly through the house, watching the way her hips swayed, letting her lead, even though you knew where her bedroom was. When she opened the door you were hit by the scent of freshly washed sheets and her Himalayan magnolia and vanilla scented air freshener. It was a heady combination and you tried to breathe it in deeply, while she led you further in. The room was spacious and the large windows let in the moonlight, allowing you to see well enough, once your eyes adjusted. Wanda kept you close to her, pulling you into her embrace and brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “We can stop at any moment, you know that, right?” She whispered softly. “We don’t have to do anything.” She tried to assure you. She didn’t want to put any pressure on you. Not for this. “I want this, Wanda.” You whispered back, cupping her cheek with one hand. “I want you.” You managed to say, before her lips crashed on yours.

Her kiss was hungry and full of so much more emotion than you could have guessed. Underneath the desire and the passion and the hunger, Wanda felt more vulnerable than she could ever admit. She’d only been with one person her whole life, she’d only allowed one person to touch her, to see her naked body. She had no experience, nothing she could compare this to. She was so afraid to disappoint you and each time she kissed you, she had to fight off the onslaught of fears and insecurities that swirled in her head, clouding her thoughts. Holding you close helped though. The way your body yielded to her helped. The feel of your hands on her hips and the small of her back held her grounded and encouraged her to keep going. The taste of your lips and the sweet sounds of your soft moans spurred her on and she eagerly pulled at your clothes, removing your shirt first, pulling it over your head impatiently, too excited to unbutton it slowly. Your skirt went next, pooling around your legs and leaving you in black, lacy underwear. You did the same. Pulling down the zipper of her dress and letting it fall in a heap on the floor. Wanda’s body was pure perfection from start to finish and you had to pause, taking her in. You swore you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your life and you wanted to memorize every detail, every curve. “I’m not quite what I used to be…” Wanda whispered in a breath, too scared to meet your eyes. Too scared of what she’ll find there. “Oh, Wanda…” You said softly, your fingers resting under her chin and tilting her head up, so she would look at you. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” You said honestly. “Your body is gorgeous.” You said as you let your eyes trail over her once more. “And if you let me, I’ll worship you until you believe me.” You added, pulling her into your arms again. “Please, let me show you how beautiful you are.” You asked gently, leaning in to place a kiss on her cheek, your lips tracing her face and covering it in gentle kisses. You trailed kisses down the column of her throat next, feeling her arms wrap around you, one of them reaching to cup the back of your neck and keep you there, while the other circled your waist. She closed her eyes briefly, letting herself feel and experience this moment. She meant to take the lead. When she was picturing this night in her head, she always imagined herself being in control. But now, when she had you here, she couldn’t help but feel vulnerable and exposed and she was glad that you didn’t need her to lead.

When her soft sounds turned to moans, you guided her towards the bed, laying her down gently. You joined her quickly, not wanting to be deprived of her even for a moment and she eagerly embraced you, kissing you back with fervour and passion. Her need was starting to win over her insecurity and when your hands trailed down her body, caressing her breasts, she arched her back, letting you unhook her bra, so you could see them in all their glory. “Wanda…” You gasped already taking them in your hands and massaging them gently. Her breasts were full and her skin was soft and warm to your touch and her rosy nipples, already in stiff peaks made your mouth water. “May I…?” You raised your eyes to her, eager. “Go ahead, baby.” She nodded. “You don’t have to ask.” And you didn’t wait for a second invitation, your lips encasing one of her nipples, your tongue running over it. “God!” Wanda moaned, her back arching. “Just like that!” She encouraged, her fingers tangling in your hair. Despite all her research and her eagerness, she still hadn’t learned how to touch herself, her body now craving a release she didn’t know how to achieve on her own. God, she needed you. Your touch was electrifying, each stroke of your tongue against her sensitive nipple sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to her core. It felt so good, she had to hold back a whine. The way you trailed gentle kisses down Wanda’s body made her feel holy. You took your time to explore her, to memorize every curve and dip. You wanted her to know how much this meant to you. You wanted to really feel her. Half-way down her stomach you could already smell her arousal, but nothing could prepare you for the sight of her wet pussy. Her panties were made from some kind of sheer material that left nothing to the imagination and you could clearly see the way her wetness smeared over her skin and seeped through, soaking the fabric. It made your mouth water and you had to take a steadying breath just to stop yourself from diving right in.

Instead you kissed her pussy through the panties. Just your lips at first, but soon you were leaving wet kisses all over her clit and outer lips. It made Wanda wild. The sensation of being kissed so intimately, the fact that it felt so good, even through her panties, as flimsy as they were, yet having a barrier between her and your mouth was almost too much to bear. Even like this, it felt much better than anything she’d ever experienced. She could only imagine how good it would feel on her bare flesh. “No more teasing.” She suddenly gasped, pulling you up by the hair, her other hand removing her panties unceremoniously and tossing them to the side. “I call that foreplay.” You smiled mischievously at her, but you barely had time to get the full sentence out, before she was guiding you back to her pussy. The first real contact you made with her skin earned you a strangled gasp from Wanda, but the moment your tongue ran through her folds and over her clit, the woman moaned. Her fingers were still threaded in your hair and they closed instinctively, holding you there. “Yes, just like that!” She encouraged breathlessly, her free hand looking for purchase and ending up tangling in your hair as well. “So good!” She murmured mostly to herself. “Yes, don’t stop, baby!” You found that you rather liked being guided through what to do in this way. Wanda was assertive, but gentle. You enjoyed that she guided you to where she wanted you and held you there, her hips lifting off the mattress, so she can grind against your face. In fact, it didn’t take long before she was doing half the work. She was grinding her pussy against your tongue, while her hands held you tightly in place. You liked the heady combination of domination and desperation in her actions too. Knowing how much she wanted you and how badly she needed you only made your pussy drip even more for her. Now this… Wanda could understand why people loved this. Your tongue and your soft lips felt better than anything she’s ever experienced. You were making slow circles that pushed her close to the edge much faster than she ever thought possible and she couldn’t hold back the moans and curses that spilled from her lips. Wanda could hardly recognize herself in this moment. She was moaning much louder than she’d ever heard herself. She could hear the way her voice carried and bounced between the four walls of her bedroom, but she could hardly care. It felt so good that she never wanted it to end.

“Such a good girl.” Wanda whispered when you found a particularly good spot and she was pleasantly surprised when you moaned against her pussy. “Yes, sweetheart, keep going. Make me come.” The blonde whispered in encouragement. Her fingers in your hair tightened as she got closer to the edge, keeping you right where she wanted you. “Just like that…” She uttered breathlessly, feeling herself climbing higher and bracing herself for the moment she’d fall. It came like a tidal wave. Powerful and all-consuming as it crashed over her body. Wave after wave surged through her body, each one bringing more pleasure. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. It was everything she hoped for and more. After the first orgasm you tried to move up her body, but she didn’t let you. One hand pushed down on your shoulders, while the other took hold of your hair, guiding your head back down to her pussy, so you can keep eating her out. She didn’t even care that she’s a little overstimulated. It still felt so good. “Again.” She demands breathlessly, her eyes looking at you with so much longing. “I need it again.” She repeats and her voice trembles. “God, I need it.” She practically mewls the words, but they are no longer directed at you. As soon as you start licking again, her head falls back and a moan of deep satisfaction leaves her lips. God, it feels so good. Each stroke of your tongue feels sharper now, sending shockwaves through her body. It’s pleasure on top of pleasure and she chases the feeling, wanting to know what’s on the other end. “Inside.” She instructs through laboured breaths and broken moans. “I want you inside me.” She sounds even needier than before and you do as she asks. Your hand joins your tongue and you let a finger probe inside her gently. Her body goes rigid for a moment when you do, muscles tightening even more and then she moans even louder. “Yes!” She gasps. “More, baby. I want you to make me feel all full.” The dirtiness of her words hits you like a train and you moan into her pussy again. Your hips start to move against the mattress in time with your fingers inside her. A slow grinding that is equally wonderful and maddening. God, this woman would be the end of you. You could see it clearly now. Yes, Wanda Maximoff would be your undoing and you wouldn’t have it any other way. It doesn’t take long for her thighs to start shaking around you. Her muscles straining as she gets closer and closer. You could see small droplets of sweat beading on her neck; her lower lip trapped between her teeth and her eyes screwed shut. Her breaths are ragged and her breasts rise and fall with each one and you can’t help but think she’s a masterpiece. She rides the edge longer this time. She moves with urgency that borders on desperation and just when she thinks she can’t go on any further the dam breaks. It's even better the second time around. Fuller. More satisfying. And just a little bit overwhelming. Still, she lets her body feel it. She lets herself feel the pleasure and the over-stimulation until it’s unbearable and she has to pull away, her whole body slumping on the mattress. Each kiss and gentle caress you leave on her skin on your way up is like a jolt of electricity. It makes her feel alive, it makes her feel holy. It makes her feel seen. Her eyelids flutter open just as you start to hover above her and she can’t believe the look of adoration and fascination she finds in your eyes. It makes her heart break in the most beautiful way possible and she pulls you in for a deep kiss.

“You were so good for me, baby.” She whispers against your lips. Without warning she flips you on your back, her figure hovering above you and her hair falling around you both like a curtain. “So good.” She whispers again, when her hands start to roam your body with renewed vigour and just a little greed. “So good.” She repeats, while she makes her way down your neck. “So good.” The words spill from her lips as she makes her way down your body. “So good.” She says after taking her first real taste of you. That taste is addictive, she realizes, and her words suddenly fade, replaced by hungry moans and the insatiable need to devour you whole. She gets so lost in the moment, she ends up overstimulating you as well. Your legs are shaking after your orgasm, but she doesn’t stop, wrenching a second one soon after, making you beg for reprieve, gasping for air, while her fingers slow down and she lifts up her head to look at you. Wanda thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. “Just one more, baby.” She coaxes softly. At least her voice is soft, but her hands hold you firmly in place. “Just one more? For me.” She doesn’t wait for a proper response, she just lowers her head and starts licking again, until she wrenches one more orgasm out of you, before she stops. Self-restraint was never really her strong suit and she thinks it’s better you learn that from the start. When she’s done, she holds you close. Her arms envelop you gently and she whispers a promise to draw you a bath… Eventually. Perhaps when you’ve caught your breath… Or when your legs stop shaking. For now, she’s content to just leave tender kisses to your forehead and let you rest in her arms, while she watches your blissed out face.

Your first showing feels like a dream you haven’t quite woken up from — too bright around the edges, too loud, too scented with the pheromones of alphas who stare like they already own you. The velvet curtains are heavy behind you, pressing that reality into place.

You swallow hard, stepping out into the auction hall. Everything quiets in a strange, unnerving wave, like your scent reached the crowd before you did.

But among the rows of alphas assessing you with greedy or bored eyes, two figures stand out immediately.

Not because they’re famous.
Not because they’re powerful.

But because the moment they look at you, something inside your chest answers.

Wanda Maximoff — her gaze warm, soft, and startlingly gentle.
Natasha Romanoff — sharp-eyed, leaning back with a half-smirk like she already knows exactly how this ends.

You tell yourself to look away, but you can’t.

Natasha nudges Wanda with her elbow, murmuring something you can’t hear. Wanda doesn’t laugh — but her lips curl into a smile so tender it nearly knocks the breath out of you.

They’re already focused on you.
Like they’ve seen hundreds of omegas walk across this stage and not one of them mattered until now.

You inhale shakily, and Wanda’s eyes soften further, as if she can sense the spike of nerves.

You have to speak, you remind yourself when the auctioneer asks if you’re ready.

“I… yes,” you manage, voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha’s eyes light up at the sound, like your voice is a gift.

———

The numbers start low. They always do.

“Twenty thousand.”
“Forty.”

Then Natasha’s voice cuts through the murmuring crowd, smooth and lazy:

“Fifty.”

A collective shift of attention. Even the auctioneer hesitates.

Then the hostile alpha — the one whose scent reeks of bitterness and frustrated dominance — snaps:

“Seventy.”

Your breath stutters. Something about his gaze makes your stomach knot.

Wanda’s expression changes. Her eyes narrow, protective in a way that sends a strange warmth through your chest.

“One hundred,” she says.

The hall reacts with shock. The couple never bids. Never competes.

The not-so-nice alpha stands, glaring at you like you’re spoiling something for him.

“Two hundred.”

Natasha laughs under her breath and leans forward, elbows on her knees, eyes locked on yours.

“Three-fifty.”

The crowd gasps.

The hostile alpha snarls. “Five hundred.”

Wanda barely waits a beat. “Six.”

Silence.

The man sits down, jaw clenched, scent souring the air.

Sold.

Your knees nearly give out.

———

You were held in a back room at first. Then after ten minutes, the two alphas walked in with a natural air of dominance it made you do a double take.

They didn’t look at you like they’d won a prize, or like you were some sort of prey animal. If anything they looked at you as if you’re something worth looking at.

Natasha opens the door of the sleek black car for you herself, which immediately feels wrong, someone with her status doesn’t do that.

But she only wiggles her eyebrows and says, “After you, sweetheart.”

You’re startled into a tiny laugh, and Natasha looks disproportionately pleased with herself.

You slide into the plush seat, letting out a slow breath as the door closes and soft light fills the interior. Wanda slips in beside you with elegant ease, her presence warm and comforting.

She waits a moment before speaking, giving you time to breathe.

“If you’d like the window down,” she says gently, “or extra space, or water — you just ask. Your comfort matters.”

You blink at her, taken aback by the sincerity. “Thank you. I… I’m okay. Just overwhelmed.”

Natasha clicks her tongue playfully as she settles on your other side. “Of course you are. That room was full of idiots.”

Wanda nudges her. “Natasha.”

“What? I’m being considerate.” She turns back to you. “You handled it better than most omegas I’ve seen.”

Your cheeks heat. “…Really?”

“Really,” they answer in unison.

Wanda’s hand hovers near yours. She doesn’t touch — she waits.

“May I?” she asks softly.

You nod before you even think about it. Her fingers lace with yours gently, like you’re something precious.

Natasha watches the contact, her playful smile softening into something warmer. “We meant what we said back there. You feel… different.”

You swallow. “Different how?”

Natasha leans her head on the seat, eyes tracing your face. “The kind of different that makes my heart do weird things.”

Wanda adds, quieter, “The kind that feels like coming home.”

Your breath catches. “But you don’t even know me yet.”

“Not yet,” Wanda agrees, curling her thumb against the back of your hand. “But we will.”

Natasha winks. “Unless you decide you hate us. Then we’ll drop you off somewhere nice with a very expensive gift basket.”

You laugh, genuinely this time. “I don’t think I’m going to hate you.”

The two alphas exchange a look that is nothing short of radiant.

———

The elevator doors open into a breathtaking open-layout home with windows stretching floor to ceiling, the city glittering below.

You take one step inside and freeze.

“It’s okay,” Wanda murmurs, her hand still in yours. “New spaces can be overwhelming for omegas after a showing. Take your time.”

Natasha crouches beside the bags she picked up from the concierge desk. “We got you a few things. Essentials. Some clothes. Snacks. Wanda went overboard.”

Wanda glares at her mate, flushing. “I didn’t know what she’d like.”

Your heart twists. “That’s… really thoughtful. Thank you. Both of you.”

Wanda beams at the praise, and Natasha laughs under her breath. “You just made her whole week.”

Wanda mutters, “Natasha,” and you can’t help but smile again.

———

They don’t just feed you.
They dote on you.

Wanda cooks, actual homemade food that smells like comfort and warmth and everything good. Natasha hovers around you, bringing water, adjusting the lights, making sure you’re not too hot or too cold.

At one point you murmur, “You don’t have to do all this.”

Wanda sets a gentle hand on your shoulder. “We want to. You’re ours now… not anyone else’s. And we take care of what we own.” The words are soft, yet the possessiveness undertone is hard to ignore.

Natasha leans her cheek into her palm and grins at you. “Plus, you’re cute when you eat.”

You nearly choke, the slightest hint of pink tints your cheeks and you muffle something unintelligible that made the two alphas smirk.

———

Then, they both led you to the bathroom. Wanda’s fingers laced with yours like it was natural, Natasha’s hand pressed against your lower back like a silent promise.

They don’t join you, they don’t even offer. Instead, they run the bath, test the water, and set fluffy towels within reach.

Wanda’s voice is soft at the doorframe. “If you want privacy, we’ll be down the hall. If you need help with anything, anything at all, just call.”

Natasha adds, “And if the scents from earlier are sticking to you, the soaps in there will help.”

You look between them, feeling awkward and warm and safe all at once.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Really. I… didn’t expect any of this.”

Natasha’s smile softens. “That’s okay. We’ll show you.”

Wanda finishes, “There’s no rush for anything. Tonight is about you resting.”

When they leave and you sink into the warm water, something inside you unwinds in a way you can’t remember feeling before.

Afterwards, wrapped in a robe Wanda insisted on warming for you, you wander into the living room. The alphas are lounging on the couch, space between them deliberately kept open.

Wanda pats the spot. “If you want to join us?”

Your voice comes out shy. “Can I?”

Natasha snorts. “We were hoping you would.”

You settle between them, shoulders brushing. Their scents are calm, soothing, protective — and you feel yourself relax so fully you almost melt into the couch.

A long moment passes.

Then, softly, you say, “I… think I like being here.”

Wanda’s fingers gently brush your arm. “We like you here too.”

Natasha shifts just enough for her thigh to touch yours. “Get some rest, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

Your eyes flutter shut.

Their scents wrap around you like a blanket as the city lights glow outside.

And for the first time in a long time you feel safe.

The morning after the showing, you wake slowly in a room you don’t recognize. The bed is soft, the sheets warm, and sunlight pours in gently through gauzy curtains. It takes a moment for the memories to collect — the auction, the bidding war, Wanda’s soothing voice, Natasha’s teasing confidence. The car ride. The way their scents made your pulse slow instead of spike.

On the nightstand beside you is a small folded note. Wanda’s handwriting curls neatly across the page.

We let you sleep in. There’s food waiting whenever you’re ready.
Come find us. No rush.
— W & N

The simple kindness of it makes your throat tighten.

When you drift out into the open kitchen, Natasha lifts both arms like she’s spotted a long-lost friend. “There she is! Our sleeping beauty.”

Wanda gives her a look, though she’s smiling softly as she plates food. “Natasha.”

“What? I’m being welcoming.”

You sit down, cheeks warm. “I, um… good morning.”

Wanda slides a plate in front of you with the gentleness of someone placing something fragile. “Eat as much or as little as you want. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made a few things.”

“A few?” Natasha snorts, waving a hand at the absurd spread of dishes. “This is a diplomatic buffet.”

You laugh quietly — and Wanda glows as if you handed her a gift.

Those first few days settle into a careful rhythm. You stay in the guest room without pressure to move. Wanda always knocks softly before entering. Natasha announces herself loudly enough that you hear her halfway down the hall.

They never crowd you, never loom the way some alphas do. You realize quickly that Wanda’s patience is bone-deep — she asks before every touch, every closeness. Natasha is bold, but she reins herself in beautifully, offering light teasing taps to your shoulder or a wink across the room but waiting for you to initiate anything more.

It doesn’t take long for you to start gravitating toward them on your own.

One lazy afternoon, you’re curled on the couch reading. Wanda sits beside you with a gardening book, her knee barely brushing yours. Every now and then, she glances at you with that soft maternal fondness that makes your cheeks warm. Natasha lounges on the opposite end, feet propped up, pretending not to watch you even though she absolutely is.

You close your book with a sigh. “I… like it here.”

Natasha immediately straightens, eyes lighting. “Yeah?”

Wanda’s face softens. “We’re glad. Truly.”

Over the next while — not days, not even weeks, just time thick and warm and steady, the penthouse becomes familiar. Comforting.

Wanda teaches you how to care for the balcony plants. She names each one like old friends and beams when you remember them. She’s patient, always guiding your hands lightly, her scent warm like cinnamon and hearthfire.

Natasha shows you her workout routine, exaggerating her flexing until you’re doubled over laughing. She jumps to your side the moment you wobble on a machine, steadying you with large warm hands but stepping back as soon as you’re stable again.

Once, she scoops you up bridal-style simply because “you looked like you needed elevation.” You shriek and cling to her shoulders, and she laughs, bright and smug, while Wanda sighs in the background but fails to hide her smile.

Dinner becomes a shared ritual. Wanda cooks tender, aromatic meals that fill the whole penthouse with warmth. Natasha steals ingredients when Wanda isn’t looking. You stir a pot, bumping elbows with them, and their scents mix in the air — not overwhelming, just present. Familiar.

One evening, you pause mid-stir and say, half-joking but not really, “You two are trying to domesticate me.”

Natasha grins like she’s been caught. “Maybe we are.”

Wanda flushes so sweetly it makes your stomach flutter.

You grow more comfortable with their scents as time passes. It starts with you sitting between them during a movie because “you smell nice,” you admit without thinking. Natasha nearly drops the bowl of popcorn. Wanda goes pink to the tips of her ears.

Another night, a wave of leftover fear hits you out of nowhere — the memory of the auction room, the hostile alpha, the feeling of being on display. You sit on the couch and try to breathe through it, but your hands shake.

“Hey,” Natasha murmurs gently, crouching in front of you. “What do you need?”

You swallow. “I… Wanda? Could I…?”

Wanda is beside you instantly. “You can always ask. May I hold you?”

Your nod is tiny but certain.

She gathers you slowly, her arms warm and secure. Her scent blooms, enveloping you in a soothing, maternal wave that eases the tremor in your chest. Natasha joins on your other side, rubbing slow circles on your back, her voice low and steady as she says, “We’ve got you, omega.”

And you believe them.

You fall asleep there again — tucked safely between them. When you wake much later with your cheek on Wanda’s shoulder and Natasha’s hand resting lightly on your knee, neither alpha pretends it was inconvenient. Wanda only smiles sleepily and whispers, “Good morning, honey,” while Natasha yawns and says, “Best nap ever.”

The shift in the air after that is subtle but undeniable.

You start seeking them out on purpose — leaning into Wanda’s side when she reads, poking Natasha in the ribs when she teases you, curling between them during lazy evenings without hesitation.

One rainy night, the three of you sit under a shared blanket on the couch, the city smudged behind fogged-up windows. Wanda strokes your hair absentmindedly. Natasha twirls a loose thread on your sleeve.

Quiet settles thick and warm, until you whisper, almost too softly to hear:

“I think… I think I’m starting to feel like I belong here.”

Both alphas freeze — but not in fear.

Wanda’s hand cups your cheek gently, her thumb brushing your skin like you might vanish. Her voice shakes just a little. “We want you to belong here. Truly.”

Natasha leans closer, her expression more earnest than you’ve ever seen it. “We want you, sweetheart. Not because of the bidding. Not because of obligation. Because… you fit with us.”

Your breath stutters. Your scent wavers, shy and warm.

Wanda inhales sharply. Natasha’s fingers curl in the blanket. You can feel tension tightening between them — hopeful, restrained, desperate to be patient for you.

“…Not tonight,” Wanda whispers, though her eyes are dark with emotion. “We won’t rush you.”

Natasha nods slowly, brushing a knuckle along your jaw. “But when you’re ready — fully ready — just tell us. And we’ll show you exactly how wanted you are.”

Your heartbeat hammers.

“…I think I’ll be ready soon,” you murmur.

Both alphas inhale at the same moment, a sound you feel deep in your bones.

But Wanda only presses her forehead to yours, breathing in your scent with aching tenderness.

“We’ll wait,” she promises.

Natasha leans in, voice low, delighted, almost trembling. “For you? We’d wait forever.”

And between them — warm, safe, wanted — you finally let your eyes close.

The moment is coming. But right now is soft. Right now is home.

———

Though, they didn’t have to wait that long.

You’d been quiet all week, avoiding their eyes, their scents, rooms that you knew they’d be in.

The alphas didn’t quite understand. Sure, they’d never had an omega before you. Weren’t exactly sure what this behaviour was and definitely didn’t know how to ask without sounding like fools.

Some random nature documentary was playing on the television, you’d fell asleep on the couch hours ago, but the couple didn’t leave your side nor did they attempt to move you.

Wanda was reading a book she’d bought months ago, Natasha was playing a game on her phone that she was only half paying attention too. Everything was quiet, until a low unmistakable whine escaped your sleeping throat.

They thought they’d imagined it at first, even stared at you for a solid minute just to make sure that you were okay. But the beads of sweat that was collecting on your head, and the way your body seemed to be tremble on a microscopic scale caught their attention.

Carefully, Natasha lifted you from the couch - your body overheated and clammy, your scent releasing a sweetness the pair have never smelt before. Wanda carefully turned off all the lights before following Natasha and your still sleeping form to the shared master bedroom.

The scent hit them properly the moment they crossed the bedroom threshold.

Both alphas slowed, instincts snapping sharp and immediate. Heat. Full, undeniable, textbook heat. Wanda’s grip on the doorframe tightened just slightly, Natasha’s spine going rigid as she adjusted her hold on you without even thinking about it.

You woke up naturally, the two alphas sat by your side - nose deep against your scent glands. A pitiful whimper escaping your lips as you instinctively spread you legs, looking at them both with a desperate glint in your soft eyes. “Please..” You whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Both of the Alphas’ eyes nearly turn completely black at your small plea and request, a growl building in both of their chests.

“Oh, baby girl…” Natasha practically purrs, her hand finding your hip.

“We got you.” Wanda assures, giving you a little squeeze.

Both Alphas are on you, their hands everywhere they can reach. They leave kisses all over you, from your neck to your chest.

“You’ve got us for the next few days, little pup.” Wanda whispers softly into your ear.

“We’ll make sure you’re completely looked after by the end of it.” Natasha promises, beginning to help disrobe you along with Wanda.

The two girls made quick work of your clothes before they had you lying on the bed. They both waste not a moment removing their own clothes. Both of them stand near you on either side of the bed as they do so, their eyes raking over every inch of your bare form. And from the hungry looks on their faces, there’s no question how little they’re willing to share you.

Wanda is the first one back onto the bed, climbing onto it and straddling your waist as she looks down at you with lust-filled eyes. Natasha follows closely behind, slotting behind your head and running her fingers through your hair and over the soft skin of your neck.

“You’re already whining so much…”

Natasha notes, her fingers ghosting down your cheek and stopping to hold your jaw in place.

Wanda, meanwhile, is working her way down your body, leaving small little marks on your skin as she goes. She stops at your chest, taking one of your nipples in her mouth, which earns a moan from deep in your throat. Behind you, Natasha’s fingers go down to your neck and press lightly against your neck where your mating mark from both Alpha’s soon will be.

Wanda’s hand slide down your sides as she flicks her tongue over your nipple and Natasha’s fingers brush against your neck, pressing lightly into your mating gland. A shiver runs down your spine at all the attention your most sensitive spots are receiving. Beneath them you begin to squirm desperately, clenching around nothing and aching to be filled.

“Needy little girl, huh?”

Wanda releases your nipple with an audible pop before she continues further down, spreading your legs as she goes and settling between them. Natasha moves to your neck, grazing her teeth against your mating gland

”That’s it, baby…” she murmurs, her fingers still dancing across your neck as she holds you in place.

Down between your legs, Wanda inhales deeply, closing her eyes and moaning as your scent hits her. She looks back up at you with a hungry look in her eyes.

Before you can even get out a sound, one of Wanda’s fingers slide inside of you, already sliding in so easily thanks to your slick. Almost simultaneously, Natasha’s fingers press harder against your neck.

“So wet and open.” Wanda purrs under her breath.

“You’re already so willing and ready for us.” adds Natasha, her fingers pressing harder against your neck, her Alpha pheromones filling the room.

Between your heat and the sheer amount of Alpha pheromones now filling the room, your head feels like it’s swimming at the intensity. Wanda slides another finger inside of you, pumping in and out as her tongue swirls around your clit. You’re practically writhing beneath both Alpha’s, struggling not to move your neck too much to stop Natasha from holding it in place. You’re whining and trying to speak.

“Please…”

Wanda and Natasha both smirk simultaneously at your desperate pleas.

“Please what, pup?” Natasha asks, her fingers suddenly squeezing around your neck once more, cutting off your airways for a moment.

Wanda’s fingers press against one of your inner walls, making you see white spots for a moment.

“Use your words.” Wanda purrs. It was all you could do not to start whimpering and mewling at both their actions.

You try to get a word out but can’t seem to get anything but incoherent moans to come from your mouth. So, instead, you try to use your body to speak for you. Your hips try desperately to grind against Wanda’s fingers.

“I think she’s desperate to be filled… isn’t that right, little puppy?” Natasha croons.

Wanda and Natasha both let out a breathy chuckle at your attempts to speak when all you can do is desperately whine. Natasha’s hand stays around your neck as Wanda picks up the pace.

“I think you’re right, Tasha…” Wanda’s voice is barely louder than a whisper, already knowing you’re well beyond the point of being able to hold a normal conversation.

Behind your head, Natasha suddenly removes her fingers from your neck, allowing you to breathe properly again. Her hand slides around to your mouth and you let out a gasp, only to be cut off as two fingers make their way into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue, stifling your moans.

“Such a needy little thing..” *Natasha mumbles. Beneath you, Wanda slides a third finger inside your core.

The stretch of your pussy around Wanda’s fingers has you whining around Natasha’s. You’re trying desperately to speak against her but it just comes out as garbled words. Your hands are gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles are turning white, your breathing is shallow and the pressure building inside you is becoming unbearable.

“You’re doing so well, pup.” Wanda assures, speeding up the movements of her fingers slightly.

You feel Natasha pull her fingers out of your mouth and sit back a little. She slides her thumb across your bottom lip before turning her attention on Wanda. She runs her fingers through her mates hair and cups her jaw in her palm.

“Wands…”

“I know..”

The two of them share a look that could only be known by the other. You feel Wanda’s fingers leave your core and her body remove itself from between your legs.

You try to take a gulp of air in at the sudden emptiness and try to sit up but Natasha pushes you back down. This time her hand is on your chest, pinning you to the bed. Natasha moves herself between your legs, pressing her hips up against your core and you whine at the feeling of her hard, leaking cock against you.

“Such a needy little puppy.” Natasha hums.

Just as you start to try and move your hips to create some sort of friction, Natasha’s hands grip your hips and still them. A growl rises from her chest at your movements.

“No. Stop being a brat.” She scolds. Before you can protest even more, she’s lining up the tip of her cock with your wet hole. You whine again, trying to squirm in her grip and try to get her inside you.

But Natasha is holding onto you tightly, keeping you where she wants you. Slowly, she starts to push in, inch by inch, making your head go blank as your fingers grip the sheets tighter.

“That’s it.” She grumbles, keeping track in until her pelvis is pressed up against you.

You try to speak but your words turn into an incoherent moans. Wanda sits beside you on the bed, stroking your hair as you squirm a little.

“Just focus on feeling it.” Wanda instructs, giving you a comforting smile. “Can you do that for me, puppy?”

Before you can even try to reply, Natasha slides almost all the way out and then quickly back in, making you moan loudly.

“There there… good girl.” Wanda murmurs, running her fingers through your hair in a soothing manner.

Natasha sets a rough pace, filling you to the brim with each brutal thrust. She’s growling and panting as she uses you, her fingers digging into your hips and her nails just barely break skin.

“Such a good girl…” she moans. “Taking my cock like a good little puppy..”

Wanda nods in agreement. “She’s a good girl. Isn’t she, Nat?” She asks, glancing over at her wife.

“Such a good girl.” Natasha grumbles. “So obedient..”

Wanda leans down, leaving soft kisses all over your face, down your neck and onto your chest. Her hands are still stroking your hair, trying to sooth you. Natasha is still pounding into you, her movements becoming harder but a little less coordinated.

“Don’t you want to come, pup?” She asks. “Is that what you want?”

“Just ask..” Wanda instructs.

Your head is spinning and your brain feels fuzzy. You tried to form any coherent thought but they just won’t come out. So, instead, you nod

“Please..” You manage to whine.

Wanda nods and turns back to Natasha. “Let her come.” Her voice is authoritative enough to make your brain focus for a brief moment before a particular harsh thrust makes you cry out.

“Good girl.” Natasha grunts. She gives a few more rougher thrusts, her fingernails practically drawing blood on your hips now. Then, when she’s just on the edge, she gives a few final hard thrusts, pressing herself as far into you as possible and moaning your name loudly as she finally comes.

A moment of satisfaction washes over Natasha’s face as her she pants for a second, holding herself still as her cum paints the inside of your puffy cunt.

But then, before she’s even had a moment to recover, she starts to grow inside you. You can still feeling her length twitching as it continues to throb, but it quickly starts to swell up as her knot starts to swell. ”Oh fuuuuck… you feel that little omega…?” She groans whilst her hips twitch.

The sudden growing pressure inside you has your hands reaching up to grab onto Natasha’s shoulders. You’re gripping onto her tightly as she grows locked inside you.

“Sshhh…” Wanda soothes, noticing your face contorting at the feeling. “Sshh… breathe…” she instructs in an almost motherly tone.

Despite you whining and clenching around her knot, Natasha leans over you, her teeth grazing over your mating gland. You feel her breath against it as you wait for a moment.

“You’re such a good girl,” she murmurs, nipping at the skin just enough to make you whimper.

After another moment and a particularly hard twitch from Natasha’s knot, she gives your mating gland a vicious bite and breaks the skin. A rush of pleasure and ecstasy washes over you as your first bond mark is planted.

“Such a brave little girl..” Wanda coos.

Wanda had moved so she’s sat against the headboard of the bed. You’re still sandwiched between the two Alpha’s. Natasha is still tied to you but she’s able to keep you spread open for Wanda.

“Stay still, pup.” Wanda instructs. “Let momma look after you too..”

Wanda strokes your hair once more before one of her hands slides up your thigh. You feel her fingers spread open your ass before she’s pressing up against your already occupied cunt. A yelp slips from your mouth, making Natasha growl and bite down on your neck to shut you up.

Wanda slides into you slowly, filling you even more than before. You whine and grip onto Natasha even harder. The brunette alpha lets out a groan of satisfaction as she bottoms out.

“Jesus Christ…” she breathes out. Natasha pulls her mouth away from your neck.

“She’s tight, right?”

“God, so tight.” Wanda grunts, her hands gripping your hips.

Natasha nods, her eyes shutting and a moan escaping her. “I think she’s still so sensitive… from before.”

The two Alpha’s begin to slowly move.

The two Alpha’s move together, their movements in practiced sync as they keep you impaled on their cocks. You’re panting and moaning, their names mixing together in your mouth.

“Can you take it, pup?” Wanda asks between her heavy breaths.

Natasha presses her hand onto your abdomen, feeling her own cock pushing up against the skin. You nod, trying to speak, but all you can get out is one word. “Y-yes.”

“Good girl..” Natasha purrs. “Such a good puppy.” Wanda’s hands tighten their hold on your hips, holding you in place as the two of them pick up the pace.

The two Alpha’s are growing rougher with their pace now, their hips smacking into your skin as the bed starts to creak beneath them. Your breaths and moans are getting shorter and more needy with every thrust.

Wanda wraps her hand around your neck again, her fingers applying a little pressure, making you see little white spots again. Natasha’s fingers are grazing your mating mark, making it burn and tingle. ”You’re doing so good, little puppy.” Natasha praises.

Your whole body seems to be on fire with pleasure. Your brain is fuzzy again and your stomach is clenching tighter and tighter.

“So good, momma.” You manage to whine.

At the little honorific, the Alpha’s seem to take that as a praise, their movements getting rougher. They’re both panting and groaning heavily. Natasha’s fingers dig into your skin as she holds you steady while Wanda’s grip on your neck tightens even more.

You’re getting closer and closer to the edge. Your moans are getting louder and needier as you try to speak.

“Please. Please…” You practically beg.

Both of the Alpha’s nod at you, understanding exactly what you’re trying to say. They pick up the pace even more. Wanda tightens her fingers around your neck, cutting off your breathing for a moment.

“Come, pup.” She instructs.

Wanda’s words and the pressure on your neck from both Alpha’s’ hands is all it takes, sending you over the edge. A strangled cry comes from you and you squeeze your eyes shut as you come.

The two Alpha’s keep working through your orgasm, continuing to chase their own. They’re getting sloppy and rougher now. Natasha’s fingers still gripping onto your hip and holding you in place. Wanda’s hand holds your neck tighter.

“We’re almost there.” Natasha moans.

Wanda lets out a long groan right after, her hips snapping up into you. Her face is flushed a dark pink, her lips parted as she pants. Behind you, Natasha is the last to come. Her whole body tenses up as her knot starts to swell in you.

“Oh- Oh, f-fuck.” She moans and pants against your neck. She’s panting your scent in like it’s the last breath she’ll ever take.

After what feels like forever, both Alpha’s collapse down on the bed with themselves and you. All three of you are panting and trying to catch your breaths. Wanda is still holding your neck while Natasha is still holding your hip.

“Such a good puppy.” Natasha praises.

You let out a shaky laugh, your chest rising and falling as the world slowly stops spinning. Wanda presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, murmuring softly, “Shh… you’re okay. You’re safe. Right here with us.”

Natasha’s hand never leaves your hip, rubbing soothing circles, grounding you. “Look at you,” she whispers, voice low and calm. “You did so well. So, so well.”

Wanda shifts slightly, draping a soft blanket over all three of you, tucking you snugly between them. You feel the warmth seep into your bones, the weight of the blanket like a soft shield from the world. Natasha adjusts your position, nudging your head closer to Wanda’s chest. “There, right there,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “That’s better, little one. Safe.”

Your muscles tremble slightly from the adrenaline, and Wanda brushes her fingers along your arms, slow, gentle strokes that feel like they’re melting the tension out of you. “You’re ours,” she whispers, “and we’re never letting go.”

Natasha hums softly in agreement, a quiet, steady vibration that travels through your chest. She moves her hand from your hip to your side, thumb brushing soothing circles across your ribs. “We’ll take care of you,” she murmurs. “Everything you need, whenever you need it.”

You nuzzle into Wanda’s chest, listening to her heartbeat, the steady rhythm like a lullaby. She runs her fingers through your hair, untangling stray strands, brushing the sweat from your forehead, tucking hair behind your ears with gentle precision. “Such a good little omega,” she coos, voice thick with affection. “We’ve got every piece of you.”

Natasha slides a hand under your shoulders, giving a small supportive lift so you’re nestled perfectly between them. “You can rest now,” she whispers, pressing her cheek to yours. “Just breathe. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

Wanda shifts again, adjusting the blanket so it covers your feet, pulling it up over your shoulders without breaking the gentle hold on your neck. She brushes her thumb along your jawline, tracing little circles. “Want some water?” she asks softly. “Or maybe a little snack?”

Natasha reaches for a water bottle from the nightstand and holds it to your lips. “There,” she says, guiding it so you can sip without straining. “Take your time. We’re not going anywhere.” She watches you carefully, eyes soft, her hand never leaving yours. “That’s it. Good. Easy.”

You take a few slow sips, feeling the cool water slide down your throat, every swallow grounding you more. Wanda leans down, pressing her lips to your forehead, murmuring, “See? You’re safe. Right here, right now. That’s all that matters.”

Natasha hums again, running a finger along your arm and down to hold your hand. “We’re proud of you,” she says softly. “Every little bit of you. You were amazing.”

Wanda lifts your chin gently, brushing your hair away from your face. “Do you want me to brush your hair?” she asks, already reaching for a soft brush. You nod slightly, too tired to speak. She kneels behind your head and starts brushing slowly, deliberately, the bristles gliding through tangles, each stroke grounding you further.

Natasha leans close, pressing kisses to the top of your head, your temple, your shoulder. “So good,” she whispers. “So loved. So safe.” Her hands move to adjust the blanket around your body, making sure you’re fully cocooned in warmth.

Wanda hums a quiet tune, brushing your hair and letting her fingers trail down your arms, over your shoulders, across your back in calming strokes. “Shh… just rest,” she murmurs. “We’ll stay right here. Always.”

You feel yourself start to drift, heavy with sleep and safety. Natasha notices and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Go on,” she says softly. “Dream. Rest. We’ve got all of you.”

Wanda’s hand slides to hold yours, thumbs tracing soothing patterns across your knuckles. “We’ll keep you warm,” she whispers. “We’ll keep you safe. And when you wake, we’ll still be here. Every time.”

Natasha brushes a finger along your cheek. “We’re yours, little one. All of us. Every part of you. Never alone.”

You nestle fully between them, letting the exhaustion finally win. Their warmth, their soft touches, their steady breaths… everything melts together into a cocoon that feels unbreakable. Every little worry drifts away, replaced with safety, love, and an almost dizzying sense of being completely cherished.

Wanda presses one last kiss to the top of your head as you drift off, whispering, “Sleep, little one. We’ll be right here.”

Natasha hums softly, holding your hand and stroking your back. “Always,” she murmurs. “Always here.”

And finally, with both Alphas holding you, soothing you, keeping you safe, you let yourself sink fully into sleep, into warmth, into love, knowing that nothing could ever reach you here.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

Won by Youam

ABO AU

Alpha WandaNat x Omega Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: Your first showing was stressful, being bought by two alphas who can’t stop looking at you - it should make you uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. From first cuddles to your first time, you find out what it’s like to really be owned and loved.

TW: Smut, Fingering (R receive), slight orgasm denial (if you squint), penetration, double penetration, knotting, choking (maybe?)

Men and Minors DNI

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

Your first showing feels like a dream you haven’t quite woken up from — too bright around the edges, too loud, too scented with the pheromones of alphas who stare like they already own you. The velvet curtains are heavy behind you, pressing that reality into place.

You swallow hard, stepping out into the auction hall. Everything quiets in a strange, unnerving wave, like your scent reached the crowd before you did.

But among the rows of alphas assessing you with greedy or bored eyes, two figures stand out immediately.

Not because they’re famous.
Not because they’re powerful.

But because the moment they look at you, something inside your chest answers.

Wanda Maximoff — her gaze warm, soft, and startlingly gentle.
Natasha Romanoff — sharp-eyed, leaning back with a half-smirk like she already knows exactly how this ends.

You tell yourself to look away, but you can’t.

Natasha nudges Wanda with her elbow, murmuring something you can’t hear. Wanda doesn’t laugh — but her lips curl into a smile so tender it nearly knocks the breath out of you.

They’re already focused on you.
Like they’ve seen hundreds of omegas walk across this stage and not one of them mattered until now.

You inhale shakily, and Wanda’s eyes soften further, as if she can sense the spike of nerves.

You have to speak, you remind yourself when the auctioneer asks if you’re ready.

“I… yes,” you manage, voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha’s eyes light up at the sound, like your voice is a gift.

———

The numbers start low. They always do.

“Twenty thousand.”
“Forty.”

Then Natasha’s voice cuts through the murmuring crowd, smooth and lazy:

“Fifty.”

A collective shift of attention. Even the auctioneer hesitates.

Then the hostile alpha — the one whose scent reeks of bitterness and frustrated dominance — snaps:

“Seventy.”

Your breath stutters. Something about his gaze makes your stomach knot.

Wanda’s expression changes. Her eyes narrow, protective in a way that sends a strange warmth through your chest.

“One hundred,” she says.

The hall reacts with shock. The couple never bids. Never competes.

The not-so-nice alpha stands, glaring at you like you’re spoiling something for him.

“Two hundred.”

Natasha laughs under her breath and leans forward, elbows on her knees, eyes locked on yours.

“Three-fifty.”

The crowd gasps.

The hostile alpha snarls. “Five hundred.”

Wanda barely waits a beat. “Six.”

Silence.

The man sits down, jaw clenched, scent souring the air.

Sold.

Your knees nearly give out.

———

You were held in a back room at first. Then after ten minutes, the two alphas walked in with a natural air of dominance it made you do a double take.

They didn’t look at you like they’d won a prize, or like you were some sort of prey animal. If anything they looked at you as if you’re something worth looking at.

Natasha opens the door of the sleek black car for you herself, which immediately feels wrong, someone with her status doesn’t do that.

But she only wiggles her eyebrows and says, “After you, sweetheart.”

You’re startled into a tiny laugh, and Natasha looks disproportionately pleased with herself.

You slide into the plush seat, letting out a slow breath as the door closes and soft light fills the interior. Wanda slips in beside you with elegant ease, her presence warm and comforting.

She waits a moment before speaking, giving you time to breathe.

“If you’d like the window down,” she says gently, “or extra space, or water — you just ask. Your comfort matters.”

You blink at her, taken aback by the sincerity. “Thank you. I… I’m okay. Just overwhelmed.”

Natasha clicks her tongue playfully as she settles on your other side. “Of course you are. That room was full of idiots.”

Wanda nudges her. “Natasha.”

“What? I’m being considerate.” She turns back to you. “You handled it better than most omegas I’ve seen.”

Your cheeks heat. “…Really?”

“Really,” they answer in unison.

Wanda’s hand hovers near yours. She doesn’t touch — she waits.

“May I?” she asks softly.

You nod before you even think about it. Her fingers lace with yours gently, like you’re something precious.

Natasha watches the contact, her playful smile softening into something warmer. “We meant what we said back there. You feel… different.”

You swallow. “Different how?”

Natasha leans her head on the seat, eyes tracing your face. “The kind of different that makes my heart do weird things.”

Wanda adds, quieter, “The kind that feels like coming home.”

Your breath catches. “But you don’t even know me yet.”

“Not yet,” Wanda agrees, curling her thumb against the back of your hand. “But we will.”

Natasha winks. “Unless you decide you hate us. Then we’ll drop you off somewhere nice with a very expensive gift basket.”

You laugh, genuinely this time. “I don’t think I’m going to hate you.”

The two alphas exchange a look that is nothing short of radiant.

———

The elevator doors open into a breathtaking open-layout home with windows stretching floor to ceiling, the city glittering below.

You take one step inside and freeze.

“It’s okay,” Wanda murmurs, her hand still in yours. “New spaces can be overwhelming for omegas after a showing. Take your time.”

Natasha crouches beside the bags she picked up from the concierge desk. “We got you a few things. Essentials. Some clothes. Snacks. Wanda went overboard.”

Wanda glares at her mate, flushing. “I didn’t know what she’d like.”

Your heart twists. “That’s… really thoughtful. Thank you. Both of you.”

Wanda beams at the praise, and Natasha laughs under her breath. “You just made her whole week.”

Wanda mutters, “Natasha,” and you can’t help but smile again.

———

They don’t just feed you.
They dote on you.

Wanda cooks, actual homemade food that smells like comfort and warmth and everything good. Natasha hovers around you, bringing water, adjusting the lights, making sure you’re not too hot or too cold.

At one point you murmur, “You don’t have to do all this.”

Wanda sets a gentle hand on your shoulder. “We want to. You’re ours now… not anyone else’s. And we take care of what we own.” The words are soft, yet the possessiveness undertone is hard to ignore.

Natasha leans her cheek into her palm and grins at you. “Plus, you’re cute when you eat.”

You nearly choke, the slightest hint of pink tints your cheeks and you muffle something unintelligible that made the two alphas smirk.

———

Then, they both led you to the bathroom. Wanda’s fingers laced with yours like it was natural, Natasha’s hand pressed against your lower back like a silent promise.

They don’t join you, they don’t even offer. Instead, they run the bath, test the water, and set fluffy towels within reach.

Wanda’s voice is soft at the doorframe. “If you want privacy, we’ll be down the hall. If you need help with anything, anything at all, just call.”

Natasha adds, “And if the scents from earlier are sticking to you, the soaps in there will help.”

You look between them, feeling awkward and warm and safe all at once.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Really. I… didn’t expect any of this.”

Natasha’s smile softens. “That’s okay. We’ll show you.”

Wanda finishes, “There’s no rush for anything. Tonight is about you resting.”

When they leave and you sink into the warm water, something inside you unwinds in a way you can’t remember feeling before.

Afterwards, wrapped in a robe Wanda insisted on warming for you, you wander into the living room. The alphas are lounging on the couch, space between them deliberately kept open.

Wanda pats the spot. “If you want to join us?”

Your voice comes out shy. “Can I?”

Natasha snorts. “We were hoping you would.”

You settle between them, shoulders brushing. Their scents are calm, soothing, protective — and you feel yourself relax so fully you almost melt into the couch.

A long moment passes.

Then, softly, you say, “I… think I like being here.”

Wanda’s fingers gently brush your arm. “We like you here too.”

Natasha shifts just enough for her thigh to touch yours. “Get some rest, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

Your eyes flutter shut.

Their scents wrap around you like a blanket as the city lights glow outside.

And for the first time in a long time you feel safe.

The morning after the showing, you wake slowly in a room you don’t recognize. The bed is soft, the sheets warm, and sunlight pours in gently through gauzy curtains. It takes a moment for the memories to collect — the auction, the bidding war, Wanda’s soothing voice, Natasha’s teasing confidence. The car ride. The way their scents made your pulse slow instead of spike.

On the nightstand beside you is a small folded note. Wanda’s handwriting curls neatly across the page.

We let you sleep in. There’s food waiting whenever you’re ready.
Come find us. No rush.
— W & N

The simple kindness of it makes your throat tighten.

When you drift out into the open kitchen, Natasha lifts both arms like she’s spotted a long-lost friend. “There she is! Our sleeping beauty.”

Wanda gives her a look, though she’s smiling softly as she plates food. “Natasha.”

“What? I’m being welcoming.”

You sit down, cheeks warm. “I, um… good morning.”

Wanda slides a plate in front of you with the gentleness of someone placing something fragile. “Eat as much or as little as you want. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made a few things.”

“A few?” Natasha snorts, waving a hand at the absurd spread of dishes. “This is a diplomatic buffet.”

You laugh quietly — and Wanda glows as if you handed her a gift.

Those first few days settle into a careful rhythm. You stay in the guest room without pressure to move. Wanda always knocks softly before entering. Natasha announces herself loudly enough that you hear her halfway down the hall.

They never crowd you, never loom the way some alphas do. You realize quickly that Wanda’s patience is bone-deep — she asks before every touch, every closeness. Natasha is bold, but she reins herself in beautifully, offering light teasing taps to your shoulder or a wink across the room but waiting for you to initiate anything more.

It doesn’t take long for you to start gravitating toward them on your own.

One lazy afternoon, you’re curled on the couch reading. Wanda sits beside you with a gardening book, her knee barely brushing yours. Every now and then, she glances at you with that soft maternal fondness that makes your cheeks warm. Natasha lounges on the opposite end, feet propped up, pretending not to watch you even though she absolutely is.

You close your book with a sigh. “I… like it here.”

Natasha immediately straightens, eyes lighting. “Yeah?”

Wanda’s face softens. “We’re glad. Truly.”

Over the next while — not days, not even weeks, just time thick and warm and steady, the penthouse becomes familiar. Comforting.

Wanda teaches you how to care for the balcony plants. She names each one like old friends and beams when you remember them. She’s patient, always guiding your hands lightly, her scent warm like cinnamon and hearthfire.

Natasha shows you her workout routine, exaggerating her flexing until you’re doubled over laughing. She jumps to your side the moment you wobble on a machine, steadying you with large warm hands but stepping back as soon as you’re stable again.

Once, she scoops you up bridal-style simply because “you looked like you needed elevation.” You shriek and cling to her shoulders, and she laughs, bright and smug, while Wanda sighs in the background but fails to hide her smile.

Dinner becomes a shared ritual. Wanda cooks tender, aromatic meals that fill the whole penthouse with warmth. Natasha steals ingredients when Wanda isn’t looking. You stir a pot, bumping elbows with them, and their scents mix in the air — not overwhelming, just present. Familiar.

One evening, you pause mid-stir and say, half-joking but not really, “You two are trying to domesticate me.”

Natasha grins like she’s been caught. “Maybe we are.”

Wanda flushes so sweetly it makes your stomach flutter.

You grow more comfortable with their scents as time passes. It starts with you sitting between them during a movie because “you smell nice,” you admit without thinking. Natasha nearly drops the bowl of popcorn. Wanda goes pink to the tips of her ears.

Another night, a wave of leftover fear hits you out of nowhere — the memory of the auction room, the hostile alpha, the feeling of being on display. You sit on the couch and try to breathe through it, but your hands shake.

“Hey,” Natasha murmurs gently, crouching in front of you. “What do you need?”

You swallow. “I… Wanda? Could I…?”

Wanda is beside you instantly. “You can always ask. May I hold you?”

Your nod is tiny but certain.

She gathers you slowly, her arms warm and secure. Her scent blooms, enveloping you in a soothing, maternal wave that eases the tremor in your chest. Natasha joins on your other side, rubbing slow circles on your back, her voice low and steady as she says, “We’ve got you, omega.”

And you believe them.

You fall asleep there again — tucked safely between them. When you wake much later with your cheek on Wanda’s shoulder and Natasha’s hand resting lightly on your knee, neither alpha pretends it was inconvenient. Wanda only smiles sleepily and whispers, “Good morning, honey,” while Natasha yawns and says, “Best nap ever.”

The shift in the air after that is subtle but undeniable.

You start seeking them out on purpose — leaning into Wanda’s side when she reads, poking Natasha in the ribs when she teases you, curling between them during lazy evenings without hesitation.

One rainy night, the three of you sit under a shared blanket on the couch, the city smudged behind fogged-up windows. Wanda strokes your hair absentmindedly. Natasha twirls a loose thread on your sleeve.

Quiet settles thick and warm, until you whisper, almost too softly to hear:

“I think… I think I’m starting to feel like I belong here.”

Both alphas freeze — but not in fear.

Wanda’s hand cups your cheek gently, her thumb brushing your skin like you might vanish. Her voice shakes just a little. “We want you to belong here. Truly.”

Natasha leans closer, her expression more earnest than you’ve ever seen it. “We want you, sweetheart. Not because of the bidding. Not because of obligation. Because… you fit with us.”

Your breath stutters. Your scent wavers, shy and warm.

Wanda inhales sharply. Natasha’s fingers curl in the blanket. You can feel tension tightening between them — hopeful, restrained, desperate to be patient for you.

“…Not tonight,” Wanda whispers, though her eyes are dark with emotion. “We won’t rush you.”

Natasha nods slowly, brushing a knuckle along your jaw. “But when you’re ready — fully ready — just tell us. And we’ll show you exactly how wanted you are.”

Your heartbeat hammers.

“…I think I’ll be ready soon,” you murmur.

Both alphas inhale at the same moment, a sound you feel deep in your bones.

But Wanda only presses her forehead to yours, breathing in your scent with aching tenderness.

“We’ll wait,” she promises.

Natasha leans in, voice low, delighted, almost trembling. “For you? We’d wait forever.”

And between them — warm, safe, wanted — you finally let your eyes close.

The moment is coming. But right now is soft. Right now is home.

———

Though, they didn’t have to wait that long.

You’d been quiet all week, avoiding their eyes, their scents, rooms that you knew they’d be in.

The alphas didn’t quite understand. Sure, they’d never had an omega before you. Weren’t exactly sure what this behaviour was and definitely didn’t know how to ask without sounding like fools.

Some random nature documentary was playing on the television, you’d fell asleep on the couch hours ago, but the couple didn’t leave your side nor did they attempt to move you.

Wanda was reading a book she’d bought months ago, Natasha was playing a game on her phone that she was only half paying attention too. Everything was quiet, until a low unmistakable whine escaped your sleeping throat.

They thought they’d imagined it at first, even stared at you for a solid minute just to make sure that you were okay. But the beads of sweat that was collecting on your head, and the way your body seemed to be tremble on a microscopic scale caught their attention.

Carefully, Natasha lifted you from the couch - your body overheated and clammy, your scent releasing a sweetness the pair have never smelt before. Wanda carefully turned off all the lights before following Natasha and your still sleeping form to the shared master bedroom.

The scent hit them properly the moment they crossed the bedroom threshold.

Both alphas slowed, instincts snapping sharp and immediate. Heat. Full, undeniable, textbook heat. Wanda’s grip on the doorframe tightened just slightly, Natasha’s spine going rigid as she adjusted her hold on you without even thinking about it.

You woke up naturally, the two alphas sat by your side - nose deep against your scent glands. A pitiful whimper escaping your lips as you instinctively spread you legs, looking at them both with a desperate glint in your soft eyes. “Please..” You whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Both of the Alphas’ eyes nearly turn completely black at your small plea and request, a growl building in both of their chests.

“Oh, baby girl…” Natasha practically purrs, her hand finding your hip.

“We got you.” Wanda assures, giving you a little squeeze.

Both Alphas are on you, their hands everywhere they can reach. They leave kisses all over you, from your neck to your chest.

“You’ve got us for the next few days, little pup.” Wanda whispers softly into your ear.

“We’ll make sure you’re completely looked after by the end of it.” Natasha promises, beginning to help disrobe you along with Wanda.

The two girls made quick work of your clothes before they had you lying on the bed. They both waste not a moment removing their own clothes. Both of them stand near you on either side of the bed as they do so, their eyes raking over every inch of your bare form. And from the hungry looks on their faces, there’s no question how little they’re willing to share you.

Wanda is the first one back onto the bed, climbing onto it and straddling your waist as she looks down at you with lust-filled eyes. Natasha follows closely behind, slotting behind your head and running her fingers through your hair and over the soft skin of your neck.

“You’re already whining so much…”

Natasha notes, her fingers ghosting down your cheek and stopping to hold your jaw in place.

Wanda, meanwhile, is working her way down your body, leaving small little marks on your skin as she goes. She stops at your chest, taking one of your nipples in her mouth, which earns a moan from deep in your throat. Behind you, Natasha’s fingers go down to your neck and press lightly against your neck where your mating mark from both Alpha’s soon will be.

Wanda’s hand slide down your sides as she flicks her tongue over your nipple and Natasha’s fingers brush against your neck, pressing lightly into your mating gland. A shiver runs down your spine at all the attention your most sensitive spots are receiving. Beneath them you begin to squirm desperately, clenching around nothing and aching to be filled.

“Needy little girl, huh?”

Wanda releases your nipple with an audible pop before she continues further down, spreading your legs as she goes and settling between them. Natasha moves to your neck, grazing her teeth against your mating gland

”That’s it, baby…” she murmurs, her fingers still dancing across your neck as she holds you in place.

Down between your legs, Wanda inhales deeply, closing her eyes and moaning as your scent hits her. She looks back up at you with a hungry look in her eyes.

Before you can even get out a sound, one of Wanda’s fingers slide inside of you, already sliding in so easily thanks to your slick. Almost simultaneously, Natasha’s fingers press harder against your neck.

“So wet and open.” Wanda purrs under her breath.

“You’re already so willing and ready for us.” adds Natasha, her fingers pressing harder against your neck, her Alpha pheromones filling the room.

Between your heat and the sheer amount of Alpha pheromones now filling the room, your head feels like it’s swimming at the intensity. Wanda slides another finger inside of you, pumping in and out as her tongue swirls around your clit. You’re practically writhing beneath both Alpha’s, struggling not to move your neck too much to stop Natasha from holding it in place. You’re whining and trying to speak.

“Please…”

Wanda and Natasha both smirk simultaneously at your desperate pleas.

“Please what, pup?” Natasha asks, her fingers suddenly squeezing around your neck once more, cutting off your airways for a moment.

Wanda’s fingers press against one of your inner walls, making you see white spots for a moment.

“Use your words.” Wanda purrs. It was all you could do not to start whimpering and mewling at both their actions.

You try to get a word out but can’t seem to get anything but incoherent moans to come from your mouth. So, instead, you try to use your body to speak for you. Your hips try desperately to grind against Wanda’s fingers.

“I think she’s desperate to be filled… isn’t that right, little puppy?” Natasha croons.

Wanda and Natasha both let out a breathy chuckle at your attempts to speak when all you can do is desperately whine. Natasha’s hand stays around your neck as Wanda picks up the pace.

“I think you’re right, Tasha…” Wanda’s voice is barely louder than a whisper, already knowing you’re well beyond the point of being able to hold a normal conversation.

Behind your head, Natasha suddenly removes her fingers from your neck, allowing you to breathe properly again. Her hand slides around to your mouth and you let out a gasp, only to be cut off as two fingers make their way into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue, stifling your moans.

“Such a needy little thing..” *Natasha mumbles. Beneath you, Wanda slides a third finger inside your core.

The stretch of your pussy around Wanda’s fingers has you whining around Natasha’s. You’re trying desperately to speak against her but it just comes out as garbled words. Your hands are gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles are turning white, your breathing is shallow and the pressure building inside you is becoming unbearable.

“You’re doing so well, pup.” Wanda assures, speeding up the movements of her fingers slightly.

You feel Natasha pull her fingers out of your mouth and sit back a little. She slides her thumb across your bottom lip before turning her attention on Wanda. She runs her fingers through her mates hair and cups her jaw in her palm.

“Wands…”

“I know..”

The two of them share a look that could only be known by the other. You feel Wanda’s fingers leave your core and her body remove itself from between your legs.

You try to take a gulp of air in at the sudden emptiness and try to sit up but Natasha pushes you back down. This time her hand is on your chest, pinning you to the bed. Natasha moves herself between your legs, pressing her hips up against your core and you whine at the feeling of her hard, leaking cock against you.

“Such a needy little puppy.” Natasha hums.

Just as you start to try and move your hips to create some sort of friction, Natasha’s hands grip your hips and still them. A growl rises from her chest at your movements.

“No. Stop being a brat.” She scolds. Before you can protest even more, she’s lining up the tip of her cock with your wet hole. You whine again, trying to squirm in her grip and try to get her inside you.

But Natasha is holding onto you tightly, keeping you where she wants you. Slowly, she starts to push in, inch by inch, making your head go blank as your fingers grip the sheets tighter.

“That’s it.” She grumbles, keeping track in until her pelvis is pressed up against you.

You try to speak but your words turn into an incoherent moans. Wanda sits beside you on the bed, stroking your hair as you squirm a little.

“Just focus on feeling it.” Wanda instructs, giving you a comforting smile. “Can you do that for me, puppy?”

Before you can even try to reply, Natasha slides almost all the way out and then quickly back in, making you moan loudly.

“There there… good girl.” Wanda murmurs, running her fingers through your hair in a soothing manner.

Natasha sets a rough pace, filling you to the brim with each brutal thrust. She’s growling and panting as she uses you, her fingers digging into your hips and her nails just barely break skin.

“Such a good girl…” she moans. “Taking my cock like a good little puppy..”

Wanda nods in agreement. “She’s a good girl. Isn’t she, Nat?” She asks, glancing over at her wife.

“Such a good girl.” Natasha grumbles. “So obedient..”

Wanda leans down, leaving soft kisses all over your face, down your neck and onto your chest. Her hands are still stroking your hair, trying to sooth you. Natasha is still pounding into you, her movements becoming harder but a little less coordinated.

“Don’t you want to come, pup?” She asks. “Is that what you want?”

“Just ask..” Wanda instructs.

Your head is spinning and your brain feels fuzzy. You tried to form any coherent thought but they just won’t come out. So, instead, you nod

“Please..” You manage to whine.

Wanda nods and turns back to Natasha. “Let her come.” Her voice is authoritative enough to make your brain focus for a brief moment before a particular harsh thrust makes you cry out.

“Good girl.” Natasha grunts. She gives a few more rougher thrusts, her fingernails practically drawing blood on your hips now. Then, when she’s just on the edge, she gives a few final hard thrusts, pressing herself as far into you as possible and moaning your name loudly as she finally comes.

A moment of satisfaction washes over Natasha’s face as her she pants for a second, holding herself still as her cum paints the inside of your puffy cunt.

But then, before she’s even had a moment to recover, she starts to grow inside you. You can still feeling her length twitching as it continues to throb, but it quickly starts to swell up as her knot starts to swell. ”Oh fuuuuck… you feel that little omega…?” She groans whilst her hips twitch.

The sudden growing pressure inside you has your hands reaching up to grab onto Natasha’s shoulders. You’re gripping onto her tightly as she grows locked inside you.

“Sshhh…” Wanda soothes, noticing your face contorting at the feeling. “Sshh… breathe…” she instructs in an almost motherly tone.

Despite you whining and clenching around her knot, Natasha leans over you, her teeth grazing over your mating gland. You feel her breath against it as you wait for a moment.

“You’re such a good girl,” she murmurs, nipping at the skin just enough to make you whimper.

After another moment and a particularly hard twitch from Natasha’s knot, she gives your mating gland a vicious bite and breaks the skin. A rush of pleasure and ecstasy washes over you as your first bond mark is planted.

“Such a brave little girl..” Wanda coos.

Wanda had moved so she’s sat against the headboard of the bed. You’re still sandwiched between the two Alpha’s. Natasha is still tied to you but she’s able to keep you spread open for Wanda.

“Stay still, pup.” Wanda instructs. “Let momma look after you too..”

Wanda strokes your hair once more before one of her hands slides up your thigh. You feel her fingers spread open your ass before she’s pressing up against your already occupied cunt. A yelp slips from your mouth, making Natasha growl and bite down on your neck to shut you up.

Wanda slides into you slowly, filling you even more than before. You whine and grip onto Natasha even harder. The brunette alpha lets out a groan of satisfaction as she bottoms out.

“Jesus Christ…” she breathes out. Natasha pulls her mouth away from your neck.

“She’s tight, right?”

“God, so tight.” Wanda grunts, her hands gripping your hips.

Natasha nods, her eyes shutting and a moan escaping her. “I think she’s still so sensitive… from before.”

The two Alpha’s begin to slowly move.

The two Alpha’s move together, their movements in practiced sync as they keep you impaled on their cocks. You’re panting and moaning, their names mixing together in your mouth.

“Can you take it, pup?” Wanda asks between her heavy breaths.

Natasha presses her hand onto your abdomen, feeling her own cock pushing up against the skin. You nod, trying to speak, but all you can get out is one word. “Y-yes.”

“Good girl..” Natasha purrs. “Such a good puppy.” Wanda’s hands tighten their hold on your hips, holding you in place as the two of them pick up the pace.

The two Alpha’s are growing rougher with their pace now, their hips smacking into your skin as the bed starts to creak beneath them. Your breaths and moans are getting shorter and more needy with every thrust.

Wanda wraps her hand around your neck again, her fingers applying a little pressure, making you see little white spots again. Natasha’s fingers are grazing your mating mark, making it burn and tingle. ”You’re doing so good, little puppy.” Natasha praises.

Your whole body seems to be on fire with pleasure. Your brain is fuzzy again and your stomach is clenching tighter and tighter.

“So good, momma.” You manage to whine.

At the little honorific, the Alpha’s seem to take that as a praise, their movements getting rougher. They’re both panting and groaning heavily. Natasha’s fingers dig into your skin as she holds you steady while Wanda’s grip on your neck tightens even more.

You’re getting closer and closer to the edge. Your moans are getting louder and needier as you try to speak.

“Please. Please…” You practically beg.

Both of the Alpha’s nod at you, understanding exactly what you’re trying to say. They pick up the pace even more. Wanda tightens her fingers around your neck, cutting off your breathing for a moment.

“Come, pup.” She instructs.

Wanda’s words and the pressure on your neck from both Alpha’s’ hands is all it takes, sending you over the edge. A strangled cry comes from you and you squeeze your eyes shut as you come.

The two Alpha’s keep working through your orgasm, continuing to chase their own. They’re getting sloppy and rougher now. Natasha’s fingers still gripping onto your hip and holding you in place. Wanda’s hand holds your neck tighter.

“We’re almost there.” Natasha moans.

Wanda lets out a long groan right after, her hips snapping up into you. Her face is flushed a dark pink, her lips parted as she pants. Behind you, Natasha is the last to come. Her whole body tenses up as her knot starts to swell in you.

“Oh- Oh, f-fuck.” She moans and pants against your neck. She’s panting your scent in like it’s the last breath she’ll ever take.

After what feels like forever, both Alpha’s collapse down on the bed with themselves and you. All three of you are panting and trying to catch your breaths. Wanda is still holding your neck while Natasha is still holding your hip.

“Such a good puppy.” Natasha praises.

You let out a shaky laugh, your chest rising and falling as the world slowly stops spinning. Wanda presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, murmuring softly, “Shh… you’re okay. You’re safe. Right here with us.”

Natasha’s hand never leaves your hip, rubbing soothing circles, grounding you. “Look at you,” she whispers, voice low and calm. “You did so well. So, so well.”

Wanda shifts slightly, draping a soft blanket over all three of you, tucking you snugly between them. You feel the warmth seep into your bones, the weight of the blanket like a soft shield from the world. Natasha adjusts your position, nudging your head closer to Wanda’s chest. “There, right there,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “That’s better, little one. Safe.”

Your muscles tremble slightly from the adrenaline, and Wanda brushes her fingers along your arms, slow, gentle strokes that feel like they’re melting the tension out of you. “You’re ours,” she whispers, “and we’re never letting go.”

Natasha hums softly in agreement, a quiet, steady vibration that travels through your chest. She moves her hand from your hip to your side, thumb brushing soothing circles across your ribs. “We’ll take care of you,” she murmurs. “Everything you need, whenever you need it.”

You nuzzle into Wanda’s chest, listening to her heartbeat, the steady rhythm like a lullaby. She runs her fingers through your hair, untangling stray strands, brushing the sweat from your forehead, tucking hair behind your ears with gentle precision. “Such a good little omega,” she coos, voice thick with affection. “We’ve got every piece of you.”

Natasha slides a hand under your shoulders, giving a small supportive lift so you’re nestled perfectly between them. “You can rest now,” she whispers, pressing her cheek to yours. “Just breathe. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

Wanda shifts again, adjusting the blanket so it covers your feet, pulling it up over your shoulders without breaking the gentle hold on your neck. She brushes her thumb along your jawline, tracing little circles. “Want some water?” she asks softly. “Or maybe a little snack?”

Natasha reaches for a water bottle from the nightstand and holds it to your lips. “There,” she says, guiding it so you can sip without straining. “Take your time. We’re not going anywhere.” She watches you carefully, eyes soft, her hand never leaving yours. “That’s it. Good. Easy.”

You take a few slow sips, feeling the cool water slide down your throat, every swallow grounding you more. Wanda leans down, pressing her lips to your forehead, murmuring, “See? You’re safe. Right here, right now. That’s all that matters.”

Natasha hums again, running a finger along your arm and down to hold your hand. “We’re proud of you,” she says softly. “Every little bit of you. You were amazing.”

Wanda lifts your chin gently, brushing your hair away from your face. “Do you want me to brush your hair?” she asks, already reaching for a soft brush. You nod slightly, too tired to speak. She kneels behind your head and starts brushing slowly, deliberately, the bristles gliding through tangles, each stroke grounding you further.

Natasha leans close, pressing kisses to the top of your head, your temple, your shoulder. “So good,” she whispers. “So loved. So safe.” Her hands move to adjust the blanket around your body, making sure you’re fully cocooned in warmth.

Wanda hums a quiet tune, brushing your hair and letting her fingers trail down your arms, over your shoulders, across your back in calming strokes. “Shh… just rest,” she murmurs. “We’ll stay right here. Always.”

You feel yourself start to drift, heavy with sleep and safety. Natasha notices and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Go on,” she says softly. “Dream. Rest. We’ve got all of you.”

Wanda’s hand slides to hold yours, thumbs tracing soothing patterns across your knuckles. “We’ll keep you warm,” she whispers. “We’ll keep you safe. And when you wake, we’ll still be here. Every time.”

Natasha brushes a finger along your cheek. “We’re yours, little one. All of us. Every part of you. Never alone.”

You nestle fully between them, letting the exhaustion finally win. Their warmth, their soft touches, their steady breaths… everything melts together into a cocoon that feels unbreakable. Every little worry drifts away, replaced with safety, love, and an almost dizzying sense of being completely cherished.

Wanda presses one last kiss to the top of your head as you drift off, whispering, “Sleep, little one. We’ll be right here.”

Natasha hums softly, holding your hand and stroking your back. “Always,” she murmurs. “Always here.”

And finally, with both Alphas holding you, soothing you, keeping you safe, you let yourself sink fully into sleep, into warmth, into love, knowing that nothing could ever reach you here.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

Masterlist

“Hello.” You awkwardly reach out to shake the younger Wanda’s hand while you introduce yourself. She studies you, gaze intense. The way she looks at you…yeah, definitely Wanda.

“So…” you don’t know what to do with your hands, “What’s happening?”

The younger Wanda turns to your Wanda.

“I was looking for something in her universe. She slipped through instead,” your Wanda says. 

You have to figure out another way to think about them. Emo Wanda? Alternative Wanda? Or maybe a nickname for your Wanda. She’d recently earned the title Scarlet Witch. Scarlet is a pretty name. There’s no protest from your Wanda, mentally or verbally, so decision made. You watch curiously as they return to the conversation you interrupted. Wanda’s eyes flick to you every few moments like she’s trying to take you in, or study you, surreptitiously. She’s failing horribly but you appreciate the effort.

And then you’re suddenly realising there’s two Wanda’s in the same room as you. That this is a quiet fantasy you’ve shared with your wife in the late hours of the night, when Scarlet had your brain so fuzzy you were willing to tell her anything. The memory turns from a hazy impression to a sharp image and you know Scarlet is in your mind, encouraging the thought to continue. 

You swallow and try to shift subtly on your feet, resisting the urge to squeeze your thighs together. Wanda sends you a curious look but continues talking to Scarlet. Another memory comes forward of a different night, one where Scarlet held you down and whispered every dirty thing two of her could do to you. How you’d be so helpless against them, how you’d beg for more. 

Scarlet makes the memory so vivid you whimper, loud enough for Wanda to hear. Her head snaps towards you and you can feel her concern as her mind enters yours. It’s rude but it’s Wanda so you can’t find it within yourself to truly mind, even if embarrassment rises. Wanda pokes the memory curiously and heat floods you as you gasp. She makes it a bit too real and you no longer feel the floor under you. You’re lying back on the bed, Scarlet hovering over you as she buries her fingers inside your cunt and tells you how pretty you’d look filled by two of her.

“That’s enough,” Scarlet says.

Wanda turns to her with a raised eyebrow. It looks like they’re communicating telepathically but you’re too busy trying not to hump the air to care. To go from being fucked to having to stand calmly is too much and you’re quickly losing your shame. You have just enough time to notice a smile curl around Scarlet’s lips before you’re all in the bedroom. A gentle caress against your mind from Scarlet tells you they haven’t transported you back into your memories. 

You’d landed on the edge of the bed but Scarlet curls her fingers and you’re dragged to the middle, gentle magic pushing you to lay down. Your clothes disappear and you gasp as cool air rushes to meet your skin. You lift your head when no one immediately joins you on the bed and the heat builds when you see both of them already naked. Scarlet is gently caressing Wanda’s cheek and you realise Wanda is nervous. You go to reassure her, or try to with your already fuzzy brain, but an impression from Scarlet’s mind tells you she wants you to be quiet. Wanda is only slightly nervous because of how fast things are moving.

“She wants it,” Scarlet murmurs, “Desperately.”

You can’t find it within yourself to be embarrassed. Your want is obvious. Moments later Wanda is climbing onto the bed, a strap-on slowly materialising from a swirl of red around her hips. You open your legs wider, your mouth dry. Scarlet follows behind her and curls her hands around Wanda’s waist.

“You want this?” Wanda asks and you relish the way her voice rasps.

You nod eagerly, hands reaching out to tug her closer. Red immediately wraps around your wrists and pushes them back into the bed. You pout at Scarlet but she only smiles back at you. Wanda doesn’t seem to mind. Her eyes run down your body. You squirm at the inspection. Her hands hesitantly land on your stomach before gliding lower.

“So pretty,” she murmurs and you try not to preen. You mustn’t be too successful since Scarlet sends a pulse of amusement to you. One of Wanda’s hands dips towards your heat but Scarlet clicks her tongue and tugs on the harness around Wanda’s waist. Wanda stills and she looks hesitant. “I don’t know how…”

“I’ll help you,” Scarlet says.

You don’t risk pointing out how badly she wants this. Wanda nods and allows Scarlet to guide her until her hands are beside your head and she’s hovering over you.

“Gentle,” Scarlet murmurs as she guides Wanda’s hips. Her strap finally enters you and you lift your hips to try and her deeper inside of you. You’re not sure what Scarlet is playing at. She hasn’t been gentle with you in a long time and having a strap slowly open you up instead of filling you in one thrust is torture. Scarlet clicks her tongue in disapproval and red slams your hips back against the bed.

“Be good for our guest,” she says and you nod hurriedly. The last thing you want is for this to stop while she punishes you.

“She is so desperate,” Wanda says wonderingly. Scarlet hums her agreement. Wanda stops her movements, ignoring Scarlet’s hands. You whine and tug at the magic ropes. You don’t dare move your hips.  Wanda looks like she’s drinking you in, the dark eyeshadow making her eyes glow. You’d squirm if she wasn’t already half inside you.

“Don’t tease,” Scarlet says and uses her grip on Wanda’s hips to force her the rest of the way inside of you. You cry out and instinctively try to arch away. Wanda moans lowly in your ear and you almost melt. The stretch fades away as you realise you’re having your first time with Wanda again. The desperate look on her face, the complete lack of control of the situation. For a second you almost wish Scarlet wasn’t here. It’s been a long time since you’ve had control of Wanda in the bedroom. Scarlet pinches your thigh and you twitch. Not fair, you think to her. She doesn’t deign to respond.

Wanda continues to show her complete lack of control by barely moving her hips before pushing back inside of you. She does it again and again and soon she’s rutting inside of you. Her eyes have shut and she’s moaning freely. It’s a relief and a disappointment not to have her intense gaze on you. She’s entirely lost in the feel of you. 

Red wraps around you both and your heart pounds. Scarlet does not like to lose control. Nor does she like to be ignored. Wanda has now done both and you’ve done nothing to stop her.

“You need to be gentle,” Scarlet’s voice is hard. Wanda’s chest heaves above you and it’s a struggle to focus on anything else. Scarlet’s voice turns smooth and warm. “We don’t want to hurt her.”

You try to protest but find yourself unable to open your mouth.

Wanda, you whine in your head.

You know what your mouth is for, her voice curls around the fog in your mind. Then a memory is shoved to the forefront and something heavy and smooth sits on your tongue. You moan and try to take it deeper. Wanda makes a confused noise and you’re pulled from the memory. Your mouth is still firmly shut. You whine again since Scarlet won’t let you beg.

Behave and you’ll get exactly what you always want, the taste of her fills your mouth and your eyes roll back.

“What are you— “ Wanda cuts herself off with a moan. “How do you keep control when she is like this? Her mind…” her hips jut mindlessly. Scarlet hums.

“You’ll get used to how desperate she is, and how powerful that makes you feel. She turns all dumb. It’s quite easy,” she says and you shouldn’t love how she talks like you aren’t there. 

Scarlet takes control of Wanda’s hips again but this time she uses her magic. Her hands settle on your lower legs. It’s not a particularly sensitive spot but you missed the connection.

Scarlet pulls Wanda back, the tip of the strap is barely inside of you, before shoving her hips forward. You and Wanda moan in unison. Scarlet keeps the a steady, tortuous pace. Wanda’s breath is hot against your ear. You aren’t used to the lack of her lips against you but her smell surrounding you is enough to increase the haze. 

A second after you have the thought her lips skim your cheek, and then down to suck at that sensitive spot on your neck. A moan turns into a whine and you wish Scarlet would let you beg.

“I’m not stopping you, dearest,” Scarlet says, not bothering to speak into your mind since Wanda has entered it too. But she is stopping you. She won’t let anything other than desperate sounds escape your lips. You resort to begging in your mind.

Please, please, please, please, I’ll be so good I’ll make your favourite sounds. Please, please-

It’s hard to think of anything properly, to promise anything tantalising, while Wanda’s strap is hitting that spot deep inside of you over and over again.

“What do you think?” Scarlet asks Wanda. “Should our girl be allowed to cum?”

“Yes,” is Wanda’s instant response. Scarlet huffs a laugh. “I want to see her as she comes.”

“She’s quite pretty when she does. It makes me want to…” her nails press harshly into your skin. Her cute aggression became apparent to you early on in your relationship.

Please, please, please, please-

“She liked that,” Wanda says curiously.

Scarlet chuckles lowly, “She likes much more than that.”

Memories fill your mind of your pleasure and pain mixing together to give you extreme highs. They cut off abruptly.

“Ah, ah,” Scarlet says, “She’s close. You need to focus on her, especially if you want to watch her come. You can look later.”

Wanda’s intense gaze returns to you and Scarlet speeds up, no longer taking the whole strap out as you get closer and closer to your peak.

“What a good girl we have,” Scarlet says and your toes curl. “So obedient for us, so desperate. I bet I could stop holding you down and you’d be just as still.”

You nod hurriedly. It’s a game you’ve played before, and lost many times, but Scarlet loves the complete control she has over you and how desperately you try to stay obedient. It always ends in pleasure.

“See, Wanda? We don’t need our powers to control someone,” Scarlet says. 

You doubt Wanda is truly paying attention. The face she’s making is a familiar one. She’s about to come. The idea that fucking you is turning her on so much that she’s reaching the edge so fast pushes you over too. White hot pleasure flashes through you and Scarlet allows Wanda to rut inside of you. Wanda comes down first, laying on top of you as you continue to twitch around her length. She nuzzles at your neck while you come down.

“What a pretty image my girls make,” Scarlet says. Her hands skim from Wanda’s back to your sides and you shiver. She uses a hand to leverage herself over Wanda to be able to cup your face. “I want you to take her down your throat next, okay baby?”

You nod obediently. Her thumb finds your mouth and your lips open without thought. She gently run her thumb over your tongue and whatever few thoughts you had managed to gather slip away.

“Such a good girl,” she says and you can feel Wanda shiver.

“Her mind is so empty,” Wanda says, her accent strong. Scarlet moves to lay on her side next to you both so Wanda can kneel over you again.

“Like yours was, a few moments ago. Poor baby just can’t recover as fast,” Scarlet says like she isn’t pressing down on your tongue and making your eyes rolls back. “And maybe a few hypnotic suggestions,” she adds with a small smirk.

“And she is ours,” Wanda’s voice has gone from wondering to possessive. Her hand creeps towards your neck but Scarlet grabs her wrist.

“Not yet, we don’t want her too dumb when taking your strap. She’ll choke,” Scarlet says.

“She won’t now?” Wanda says doubtfully. 

Scarlet hums and removes her thumb. You whine at the loss.

“Don’t doubt our girl. She has quite the fixation on things in her mouth. It proves very…motivating,” her hands don’t leave your skin. “One more moment, darling,” she says to you. “Then I want you on your knees.” You manage to make an agreeing sound. You can’t wait to have Wanda in your mouth again. 

Scarlet encourages Wanda to stand. You don’t take the extra time she’s trying to give you to recover. You practically scramble off the bed in your eagerness. Scarlet huffs a laugh behind you but Wanda looks at you with something wary and fragile. It’s rare for someone to approach her with such eagerness. You stop in front of her and brush a gentle kiss against her lips. Wanda deepens it immediately, her hand fisting in your shirt. Your resulting smile ruins the kiss.

“Let me make you feel good,” you murmur and she nods, pupils blown.

You slowly lower yourself to your knees. Wanda’s eyes don’t leave yours. Your wrap your hand around the base of her wet strap and guide it to your waiting month. You taste yourself and moan as you take it deeper. Wanda gasps and her hips twitch. You begin to move your hand up and down and Wanda’s hips push forward again. Red surrounds Wanda’s hips with an accompanying careful from Scarlet. Her voice is too thick with lust to sound angry, let alone particularly warning. You suck and Wanda moans.

“How does that feel?” Scarlet asks. A faint, wet noise tells you she’s started to play with herself.

“Feels good,” Wanda mumbles, eyes half-lidded as she watches you.

“Yeah? You like how our girl sucks you off?”

Wanda moans again and her hand gently grabs the back of your head. 

“I don’t need to ask how our pretty girl likes it. She always enjoys having our cock in her mouth. Isn’t that right?”

You try to make an agreeing sound around the strap. Wanda moans and tries to push deeper. You need to pull back for air a few moments later. Wanda’s eyes stay fixed to the string of spit connecting your lips to her strap. It snaps and red fills your vision. A moment later you’re splayed back on the bed, Wanda hovering over you with red eyes. Her strap nudges your entrance and you’re arching to welcome her back in. A deeper red flares and Wanda is forced still.

“Why?” her voices comes out as a whine.

“All of that and you think I don’t deserve a turn?” Scarlet asks.

“You’ve been enjoying it plenty,” Wanda snaps.

You turn curious eyes to Scarlet. You can always feel each other’s presence in a room, and you have no doubt she’s always within your mind, but you only feel the emotions she sends you. She hasn’t been broadcasting how much this is affecting her but it seems Wanda is feeling it all the same. Is this purposeful to keep trust or do their magics recognise them as one being?

If Scarlet hears the thought, she doesn’t answer you. Wanda is tugged off of you with a surprised yelp and left to hang in the air. She struggles for a few moments before turning a glare on Scarlet. One that hovers dangerously close to a pout. Scarlet ignores it, a skill you do not have. You reach for Wanda without really thinking about it. It’s Wanda. If she doesn’t want to be up there then you’ll help her. You don’t get far. Scarlet reminds you what situation you’re in by clearing her throat. 

Turning, your brain reorients itself upon finding her. She’s moved to lean against the headboard and she pats the side of her thigh twice. You immediately move to rest your chin against it, looking up at her. Her hand tangles in your hair and she drags you to her centre. You move so you’re between her legs and eagerly nose at her soaked curls. She lessens her tight hold and you can feel her relax back further with the shift in her thighs. You barely resist indulging yourself early.

“Enjoy your reward,” Scarlet tells you, “And if the young one behaves herself she can have one too.”

You’re too excited to try and guess what she means. Your tongue immediately presses into her wet heat and you drink from her eagerly. Scarlet moans lowly above you and Wanda makes a choked sound. You don’t realise what’s happening, too focused on your task, until Scarlet shows you an image of Wanda in your mind. She’s squirming mid-air, face scrunched in pleasure. You lightly suck Scarlet’s clit and Wanda arches. You groan as you realise you’re pleasing them both at the same time. It only makes you more eager. 

You’re soon surrounded by the sound of pleasure. Breathy noises from Scarlet and continuous moans from Wanda. It’s a struggle to stay focused, to not let your brain slip away in a haze. A part of the connection between Wanda and Scarlet breaks away and Wanda makes a desperate noise. She can’t feel the way you’re eating Scarlet out anymore.

“You could have felt everything if you had contained yourself,” Scarlet tells her. Her tone is noticeably weaker with how close she’s getting. A hypocritical thing to do but that seems to be her theme tonight. 

You don’t direct the stray thought at her but she must still catch it because nails are suddenly digging into your scalp. Thankfully, your transgression isn’t bad enough for her to pull you away. Losing her taste when she’s so close to coming would be truly devastating. You lightly scrape your teeth across her clit before she can use that thought against you. Scarlet’s thighs tense around you and her grip tightens in your hair again as she comes with a long, low moan. You watch her face, warm pleasure filling you, as you lap up the mess you made. A gentle, mental nudge has you pulling back slightly, Scarlet clearly needing a moment of respite. You blink slowly up at her, pleased. She runs a gentle hand through your hair.

“Wanda deserves a treat for taking her punishment so well, hmm?” Scarlet purrs to you.

Wanda’s quiet grumbling and a pulse of her power tells you she doesn’t appreciate it being called a punishment, but it seems she doesn’t want to risk whatever reward is on the table since she doesn’t say or do anything else. Hands grip your ankles and you squeak in surprise when you’re pulled down the bed. Wanda’s weight settling behind you stops you from crawling back to Scarlet but you still pout. You’re much too far to nose into her soaked curls. Scarlet sends a flicker of amusement towards you which only makes your pout stronger. It quickly disappears when the tip of Wanda’s strap starts nudging your entrance. She hesitates and you whine quietly.

Scarlet flicks her wrist, “Fuck her however you like.” She once more lounges against the headboard, her heavy gaze on you. Wanda starts like Scarlet had shown her, with long and slow strokes. It doesn’t last long. Her self-control snaps and her nails sink in as she grips your hips tight, holding you still as she ruts into you. You’re soon gasping under her. Sensitive and needy, already so close after so much attention. Wanda’s quick orgasm might have been embarrassing if it weren’t so hot. Her grunts and moans as she fucks into you spurring you on. You’re a squirming mess as you feel her hips stutter, her orgasm taking over. It’s not quite enough. A few more seconds and you would’ve been right there with her. 

The familiar feeling of Scarlet’s magic curls around your clit and the pressure inside of you bursts. You look up to Scarlet as you cry out, Wanda moaning against your neck as your cunt squeezes her. Scarlet’s eyes are half-lidded as she works two fingers in and out of herself. You buck helplessly under Wanda as your orgasm continues to wash over you. Scarlet comes with a quiet noise, the sight of both you and Wanda too much to resist. 

You come down slowly. Wanda nuzzles the back of your neck and mumbles what sounds like reassurances in Sokovian. She settles against your back. You luxuriate in the weight of her even as you reach for Scarlet. She gently lifts you both with her magic and pulls you both forward to lie between her legs. She’s shift a bit further down the bed so you can comfortably rest your head on her stomach. Her hand gently pushes back some hair from Wanda’s face before moving to gently run through your own.

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

A soft voice rouses you, the sound of soft rain pattering on the roof. You could smell fresh, wet dirt, and the air felt heavier, somehow. It never rained in Arizona, even in the spring.

Your eyes spring open, your mind rushing to catch up. You feel groggy, and your mouth is dry.

"Where am I?" You croak, trying to move your arms.

A soft chuckle sounds out from behind you, and you freeze, the fog in your mind starting to dissipate as you become more alert.

"You don't remember?" A woman steps in front of you, her hair dark red and curled beautifully. You would think she was rather stunning, but something in the back of your mind screams in distrust. "You were so sleepy on the drive up, darling. I'm surprised you didn't wake up once we got here. It did make positioning you much easier, though."

The woman smiles at that, her green eyes crinkling up. She is quite pretty. You think, in different circumstances, you might have worked up the courage to ask her out. Her hands reach your yours, grabbing them softly, and you finally look down.

"What the fu-"

"Ah ah," The woman reprimands, a sharp pain hitting your cheek. It takes you a moment to realize that she's slapped you. "We don't use that kind of language here."

Your hands are strapped down with thick leather bands to the arms of a chair. There's a puffy sort of leather on the arms, so your skin isn't digging into the wood. A small mercy, really. You assume your legs are in the same situation, since they don't move when you command them to.

"I- but," you give up on pulling against the restraints. It's obvious this woman knows what she's doing. "Did you… Do this?"

The woman fully smiles now, her teeth bright white and perfect. It's unnerving, just how perfect she is. A beautiful woman in front of you, speaking to you with that soft voice of hers, her thumb stroking the back of your hand soothingly. You could almost forget that she had just slapped you, or that all signs were pointing to her being a kidnapper.

"Of course I did, sweetheart," she murmurs, tilting her head. "You're mine, aren't you? But you don't fully know that, not yet, at least. But don't worry, soon you'll be mine completely, mind, body, and soul."

She speaks so poetically, it's hard for you to focus on the words that she's saying. There's a certain lilt to her words, like she grew up speaking another language, but you can't quite pinpoint what that language is.

"I'm, uh, yours?" You ask, brows furrowing as you start to remember more. You were walking, no, hiking on one of your favorite trails. You went there often… Ah, you suppose you are quite predictable. That's probably how this woman managed to kidnap you. The only thing you can remember is a sharp prick on your backside, and then waking up here.

"Wait," you shake your head. "Did you inject me with drugs in the ass? And where am I?"

It's so incredible to even say it out loud. But now that you're remembering more, you can still feel a slight soreness in your backside.

Wanda chuckles, standing from where she'd been kneeling in front of you. She begins speaking, even as she moves to the other side of the room with her back turned toward you. It looks like a normal room, with a small window on the wall to the right of you. There's a large table, and a chest of drawers underneath it. You can see some objects on the table, but get distracted by the woman's words.

"I did, darling. It is the easiest part of the body to aim for. Besides, I didn't want to risk hurting you by going for your arm."

She peeks over her shoulder at that, and you feel an urge to say something.

"Um, that's nice of you."

The woman smiles again, and you blink. What are you doing? Shouldn't you be trying to escape?

"Thank you, sweetheart. I put a lot of thought into this, you know. I wanted everything to be perfect for you. After all, I take care of what's mine."

"You never answered my other question."

The woman raises a single eyebrow at your tone, and you flush.

"We're somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, but I'm not going to tell you exactly where. Not yet, at least. I have a cabin out in the forest. It's very isolated here, but once we learn to trust each other, I can take you back to my main residence."

"So are you rich or something?" You blurt out, wishing you could just bite your tongue for once.

"Yes," the woman simply says, finally turning around. "You'll never want for anything ever again, dear. I'll take very good care of you."

You blanch as she turns, staring at the object in her hands, her words not registering fully.

The woman holds a dildo in her hands. It's dark red and moderately sized, with ribbed edges and a weird attachment at the base. It looks kind of like a screw.

"Um," you try, hoping to distract the woman as she begins to screw the dildo onto a small machine near your feet. "What's your name? I should probably know that, you know, if I'm gonna be yours and stuff."

"It's cute how much you ramble when you get nervous, darling," the woman murmurs, smiling up at you, one hand patting your bare knee reassuringly. "This won't hurt; in fact, it will be quite the opposite. I just want you to get all comfortable for me before I start the process. How does that sound?"

"The… process?"

"Of breaking your mind until you're mine." The woman smiles again, moving the machine under your chair. She fidgets with something, positioning the dildo, you suppose. Wait, how was she planning on… oh, fuck.

The tip of the dildo prods at you, resting right near your entrance.

"How, what?" You hadn't noticed your pants missing, but you do now. Luckily, the woman had let you keep your shirt on, but you doubted it would stay that way.

"Well, I designed this chair with a hole in the bottom," the woman says, her soft voice growing excited as she shows you a remote. "The machine can go forever, unless the generator stops, but it never has. This remote controls it, see?"

She flicks a switch, the ON button, you think. You tense, your eyes wide.

"Oh, sweetheart, don't be afraid," the woman drops to her knees in front of you, her eyes wide and imploring. "Look, I'll even lube it up for you. It's not even my biggest dildo, darling. Isn't that kind? I just want you to feel good, that's all I want. Eventually, you'll be able to take anything I give you, but I'm being gentle right now. For you, darling."

Her hand grabs a bottle of lube. You can hear soft squelching sounds, and you assume she's lubing the dildo up, but you flinch every time her fingers graze you.

"What's your name?" You whisper, a pleading sort of tone in your voice. You would be embarrassed, but you're too fucking scared to care.

"Wanda."

You take a shaky breath. "You don't have to do this, Wanda. You could let me go, I won't tell anyone, I promise, just please-"

"I love it when you beg, dear," Wanda interrupts, her voice still soft, but there's a hard edge to it. "But don't ever ask to leave again. I didn't put in all this work just for you to be ungrateful. Is that really how you say thank you to me?" Her green eyes glint up at you, her eyebrows raised and smile gone.

That expression scares you more than the dildo. You shake your head.

"I'm sorry, Wanda."

You don't know what else to say, but that seems to work for her, because that dazzling smile returns to her face. She stands, one hand holding the remote, her other gently touching your face. You're surprised at how warm her fingers are, and you resist the urge to lean into her touch. It's the only comforting thing about this whole situation. Honestly, why does she have to be so fucking nice?"

You see her fingers turn a dial on the remote, and you hear a quiet motor start.

It doesn't hurt. It doesn't even feel bad. In fact, it doesn't feel like much. The motor whirs softly, the tip of the dildo slowly pressing into you. It slides in easily, and you wait for it to fill you. It retreats, and you look up at Wanda in confusion.

The dildo returns, slowly sliding in again, the tip just barely sliding inside you before it retreats again. It's moving maddeningly slow; the thrusts are constant, but shallow. The lube makes it so you can barely feel the dildo; the girth of it just barely presses into you before it retreats again.

"See?" Wanda murmurs. "I told you it would feel good. I'll be back."

She doesn't offer any other explanation, whirling around and leaving the room. You swore her pupils were larger than before. There was something about the way she had looked at you that sent shivers down your spine. There was this possessive look in her eye, and it said that she would never let you go.

You don't really get much opportunity to reflect, though, your attention constantly being pulled back to the dildo thrusting shallowly up into you. It's driving you insane. The sun has shifted slightly, you can tell from the window, and the shadows are growing longer on the walls. You wish you knew how to tell time from the sun, but it had never seemed like an important skill before now.

There is lube smearing around your entrance. You're sure it's dripping onto the floor. But you're not sure if your arousal has also mixed in with it. You wouldn't be surprised, honestly. Your clit is throbbing. It's peeking out from under its hood, protruding slightly. You can feel the slightly cool air from the room hitting it, and you let out a soft whimper.

You want more, you realize. The thought should horrify you. It should disgust you. But it doesn't, in fact, you can't quite bring yourself to care. Not when this dildo is teasing you, stimulating you, and making you ache from need, but not giving you any satisfaction.

The door opens, and Wanda steps through, shutting it gently behind her. She's changed out of the dark clothing she was wearing before. Her pants are casual, and a tight shirt shows off her form.

"It's been a few hours. How are you feeling, darling?"

You wait for the fear to return. You wait for the revulsion, the innate urge to escape from your captor. But you feel none of that. All you feel is the burning need in your gut, and you feel something break away from your resolve.

"Please," you whisper. It comes out breathy, almost a whine, really. Wanda's eyes light up, her smile gentle as she moves to kneel in front of you again.

You meet her eyes fully, no hesitation left in you. God, she's gorgeous. You already knew this, but now you can fully appreciate it. You think you could learn to love her, maybe even be as obsessed with her as she is with you. But for right now, she's the only person who can satiate the need growing inside you.

"What do you need, sweetheart?" Wanda asks, her eyes searching yours, her hands stroking up your thighs slowly. She grabs your hips for a moment, biting her lip as she glances down to watch the dildo as it moves slowly in and out of you.

"Please turn it up, Wanda."

"Perfect," she whispers, and the approval warms something inside you. She turns the dial, and the dildo slides deeper. It still goes at the same slow, torturous pace, but now more than half the dildo slips inside you with each thrust.

You groan, feeling it stretch you in a deliciously wonderful way. You can't cum just from penetration, but goddamn it feels so good.

"Oh, thank you, Wanda," you breathe out, relaxing into the chair. Her hands run over your thighs once more, and you find yourself enjoying the sensation. You want her to touch you more. You want her hands all over, stimulating every part of you. You'd do anything to cum. Her fingers dig into your hips, and you let out a soft moan.

Then, Wanda pulls away, standing.

You look up at her in confusion.

"I have a special gift for you, would you like that?" Wanda asks.

You can't think straight, your brain dripping out between your legs. All you can manage is a weak nod, your body melting into the chair as pleasure warms your gut.

"When I ask you a question, you will respond verbally, do you understand?" Wanda's voice is velvety smooth and melodic, her words slipping between your ears and wrapping around your brain like a firm hand.

"Yes, Wanda," you murmur, looking up at her. You even manage a smile.

"Good," Wanda whispers, "Very good, so perfect for me."

Her hand strokes your face for a moment before she turns and walks to the table on the opposite side of you. You would be curious about what she's doing, but you're more focused on the dildo pumping into you. There is no friction, no resistance as it fucks you relentlessly. You can smell your own arousal, your own neediness permeating the air, but you can't bring yourself to care.

Wanda returns, a dark red piece of leather in her hands. She holds it reverently, the gold metal buckles clinking gently as she holds it up, and you realize it's a collar.

"See?" Wanda grins, showing you the tag. "It says Wanda's Good Toy on it, isn't it perfect?"

You nod. It is perfect. It's what you are, after all, isn't it? Allowing yourself to be fucked by her, to let your arousal cloud your judgement, all because of a simple dildo. You'd let her play with your body anytime she wants, as long as it always feels this fucking good.

Wanda smiles wider, kissing the top of your head as she steps closer, fastening the collar around your neck. You can smell her perfume now; she's never gotten this close to you before. You feel intensely grateful as she leans in, her vanilla scent only increasing the arousal thrumming through your veins.

"Doesn't it feel so good?" Wanda asks, the collar buckled into place. It fits snugly, not too tight, but not too loose. You can feel your brain going slightly fuzzy. It feels like a comfortable sort of weight has been placed on you, and you're not sure you want to escape.

"Yes, Wanda," you murmur, squirming in your restraints as Wanda turns the dial again. The dildo thrusts fully into you, the base of it pressing against you as you gasp. "It feels so good… I- thank you, thank you so much."

"Good," Wanda strokes your hair. "So good for me. Do you see how good I can make you feel? Don't you want this?"

You nod, your eyes unfocused as she turns the dial again, the thrusts increasing in speed. A louder whine slips past your lips as your words become frenzied and desperate. "Yes, I love it. Please… oh, fuck, I love it so much."

Wanda's hand connects with your cheek again, and you moan.

She freezes, and you look up. Her pupils are blown wide, a smile slowly spreading across her lips. It's not like the gentle smile she's been wearing. No, it's a smile of satisfaction, of pride, of love.

"Language," she whispers, before her lips crash into yours.

You moan into the kiss, letting her have her way with your mouth. Her tongue snakes into yours, firmly pressing against yours before she pulls away, her teeth biting into your lip and sucking. She thoroughly claims your mouth, the dildo working you up as she straddles your lap.

"You're perfect," she moans, her fingers digging into your hips as she grinds down on your thighs.

You can't respond in much more than moans. It's all so much. The dildo pumping into you, her fingers bruising your hips, trailing up your body, tugging at your collar. Her arousal smears on your thighs, her breathy gasps in your ear as she sucks hickeys into your neck. It's overwhelming, and all you can feel is Wanda.

"Cum," she commands, and your mind goes blank as white-hot pleasure consumes you. Your hands grip the ends of the chair arms, your fingernails digging into the wood as you convulse. Your clit is throbbing, pleasure shooting through you as the dildo continues to hit the deepest parts of you, not slowing even as you cum again.

Wanda is shaking on top of you, her breath warm on your cheek as she presses her forehead against yours. You think she's also had an orgasm, her moans echoing through your brain. One of her hands is shoved down her pants, and you can see the outline of her fingers rubbing furiously at her clit.

Your orgasm lasts for what seems like forever, the dildo unrelenting as it fucks into you. It fucks you through the aftershocks, sending you headfirst into yet another orgasm.

"Too much-"

"No," Wanda interrupts, her voice raspy. She turns the dial up, moaning at your responding whimpers as the dildo increases its pace yet again. "It's never too much. You'll take what I give you."

You nod, letting your pleasure overwhelm you again.

"Isn't this so nice?" Wanda asks, the words whispered against your chest as she sucks more bruises into your skin. "Being so brainless for me, letting me control your pleasure however I want? Isn't it so nice to not be in control, to let me make all the decisions for you, darling?"

"Yes, Wanda."

And you mean it. You're hers. Forever.

---

Dm or comment to be added/removed!

The moving truck coughed its way back onto the main road just as the sun bled gold across the cul-de-sac. You stood on the top step of the porch, arms folded beneath your breasts, the peach-colored sundress clinging to your thighs in the August heat. Your husband, Miles, had placed the last heavy box onto the floor before walking out to the front porch, his hands making their way to wrap around your waist.

You smiled lightly, turning around in his grasp to wipe the bead of sweat on his eyebrow with your finger to which he reased a sigh in return.

"All settled?" He lets out a low hum in agreement, his hands finding their way to cup your ass.

"Good." Miles gave you one of his sheepish grins. He’d been smiling quite a lot since the offer letter came through. A new senior position, corner office, company car. All the things good husbands were supposed to want. That a wife should want too.

And you, the good wife, were supposed to smile even though it meant your own life would be packed up and taken some place new. You smiled when he called your name, the way you’d practiced in the mirror back in the old apartment. Devoted. Supportive. Grateful. Because that's what a wife was supposed to be. Even if it meant moving towns, leaving your home, friends and family to help your husband chase his own dreams.

Miles parted from you, giving your ass one final squeeze before he disappears into your brand new home, mumbling something about going to set up the new bedframe. You nodded, even though he'd already been inside and all you could do was stare at the white picket fences across the streets, wondering why you'd chosen this life in the first place.

Across the narrow strip of the bright green lawn that separated your new house from the Maximoffs’, scarlet curtains shifted. A woman stepped onto her porch barefoot, wineglass dangling from two fingers, the liquid inside catching the light like liquid garnet. She wore a sleeveless crimson wrap dress that looked expensive and effortless at once.

Her dark red hair was twisted up in a careless knot, held in place by what looked like a No. 2 pencil. She watched you openly, no neighborly pretense of glancing at the mailbox or watering nonexistent plants. She simply watched like you were the most interesting thing she stumbled upon. And you felt the weight of her intense stare on your skin like a hand.

Just when you think the woman was about to take a step towards you, Miles calls you into the house, claiming that he needed your help with screws or something along those lines. But all you could really think about were those green eyes that belonged to your neighbor who lived just two houses away from you.

___

"Work called in earlier than I expected. I'm sorry I can't stay to help, I'll be back as soon as I can alright?" Your husband packed the last things into his briefcase, rushing to grab the cup of coffee you had just brewed for him. You slipped his lunch bag onto his arm before taking a step back to let him gather all of his stuff.

"You got all your stuff?" You asked, while fixing his tie. He nods, checking his phone for any new updates.

"Yes, documents, file, car key, everything's in the bag." You give him a nod, he smiles.

"How do I look."

"Like a senior at Westview Tech." He gave you one of his low chuckles before giving you one final peck on the lips. He mumbled the words "I love you" before slipping into his car.

A final wave from you, and he was driving down the street, off to his new work while you remained behind, in your brand new home. With a sigh, you walked back inside the still empty house. Although you and Miles had made good progress of unpacking a few of your belongings, the house was still far from being a home.

You grabbed your phone from the marble counter before connecting it to the portable speaker that had been placed next to the microwave last night. Scrolling through a few playlists, you found the perfect song that would help you get in the mood to unpack the heap of boxes that had been staring at you and waiting since you'd arrived yesterday.

An hour, maybe even two goes by until you hear a faint knock. A small frown etches it's way onto your face, and you pulled down the silk shorts you'd chosen while fixing Miles' button up shirt, before tucking a lose curl behind your ear. These clothes weren't at all preferable while unpacking dusty boxes and belongings but they were conveniently closer since your stuff was still to be found in the heap of boxes.

Another knock and you quicken your pace before opening the door. You're met with the same woman who you'd seen the day before. The one who had worn that crimson wrap dress while her redhair had been pinned with a pencil. Only this time, she wore a simple beige cardigan paired with jeans, her hair down in loose waves that brushed her shoulders and danced softly in the light August breeze.

"Hi neighbor." Her voice was both soft and low, lightly accented, something Eastern European that had been softened by years in America but never quite lost. Her smile was as radiant as the sun itself, showcasing that small dimple on her left cheek.

"I'm Wanda Maximoff. I live two houses down. The one with the roses that refuse to mind their own business."  You laughed before you could stop yourself.

"They’re gorgeous Mrs Maximoff. I’m

Y/N. Y/L/N." You almost said Mrs. Davis, the way your mother taught you to, but the words stuck. Wanda tilted her head, eyes scanning you down from head to toe before offering a tray of freshly baked goods.

"I made brownies. Something to say welcome to you, our new neighbor. Besides, moving is hell. Chocolate makes it less hell." You took them from her with a warm smile, your hands brushing against one another before pulling away.

"Thank you, these smell really good." The woman in front of you gave you her own warm smile before peeking her head into the house.

"Unpacking already?" She asked, you nodded.

"Uhm yeah just thought I'd get something done instead of being bored and waiting for my husband to come back home." Wanda hums and you take a step inside.

"You can come in. It's still quite a mess."

"No worries sweet thing. You need a hand unpacking? My kids are gone with my husband on a fishing trip for the week, I too need something to keep myself busy with."

"You don't have to do that Mrs. Maximoff."

"Call me Wanda darling. 'Mrs' makes me feel older than I am." She jokes lightly.

"Besides, I don't mind lending a helping hand to our neighbor at all."

You nodded while placing the fresh batch of brownies onto the marble counter top. You pulled the shorts down again, missing the way Wanda's eyes trailed down your bare legs.

"I'm kind of a mess. Forgive my attire, just haven't found the box that has my clothes."

Wanda smiled, her hands tucked in the back pocket of her jeans while she waited for your instructions.

"Oh no problem sweetheart. I don't mind what you're wearing at all. Quite flattering actually." She ends with a wink that has you blushing slightly. Friendly neighbor Wanda is. You thought to yourself.

"Can I offer you some tea or coffee? Before we begin unpacking?" Wanda shakes her head with a small smile.

"I'm quite alright sweetheart. I had a cup before coming here." You nod. It's a bit awkward between the two of you since you don't have any clue what to say to the new friendly face that's currently standing in your house.

"You know what, I'm going to just change into something more appropriate. Give me a minute would you? And please, make yourself at..." You waved around at the empty house.

"Home." She chuckles and you disappear upstairs to go change into more appropriate attire.

___

With Wanda's help, you began to unpack a few of the boxes that had been sitting in the kitchen. She helped you unwrap dishes, before placing them onto the counter top. You wiped them down, to avoid dusty cutlery from entering the freshly cleaned cabinets.

"Well this is beautiful, where'd you get this?" She asks referring to the expensive China set in her hand.

"Oh uh, that was a gift from my mother. Got it after my wedding day. Mom said we'd need something fancy when hosting family dinners with the kids on Christmas." You laughed slightly, although it was far from amused.

"Huh. You and Miles interested in having any kids of your own?" She asks with a tilt of her head and you stutter, trying to find the best response.

"Well we just got married last year, he's been so busy with his career and I just think a kid isn't the best thing to bring into our lives yet, you know. We're still figuring ourselves out."

"Smart choice." You huff out a laugh.

"Yeah."

"But to me, it seems like he's the one setting his foot down, making all the decisions." Wanda placed the final fish down before placing the empty box aside.

"Well he is the man of the house, so." Wanda chuckles.

"Yes, but you my dear, make this house into a home. You're just as, if not more, important. Don't ever forget that." You give her a sheepish nod that she finds cute.

"So, um how about you, I mean you said you have children?" The older woman smiles at the mention of her children.

"Yes, two boys. Billy and Tommy. They're actually twins."

"Twins? Wow. That's amazing Wanda."

The smile Wanda gives you is bright, and the sight of it makes your heart beat in an unfamiliar way.

"Yeah, I love them to bits, even though they treated my body like their personal construction site." Her comment makes you smile, a smile that you has your cheekbones aching, a smile you haven't felt yourself doing in quite some time.

"You're a very beautiful woman though Wanda, god, I hope I age as gracefully as you did."

"Nonsense malyshka, you are absolutely stunning." Malyshka. You wondered what that word meant.

"I think we've worked hard enough, we deserve some tea, don't we?" She asks with a wiggle of her eyebrow.

"Sure, let me make you a cup."

"Nonsense detka, you sit there and let me make you a cup."

"But Wanda, I can't let you do that, you're my guest."

"And you're my new neighbor."

"Wanda-"

"Y/n." Wanda says your name in a low tone that has your stomach doing cartwheels and you know that she leaves no room for argument, so begrudgingly, you allow Wanda to make you a cup of tea before placing it next to a brownie.

You thank Wanda with a small smile before picking the brownie up and taking a small bite. The moment it touches your tongue you couldn’t help it. A low, involuntary moan slipped out, eyes fluttering closed. The brownie was fudgy and molten in the center, bittersweet and salted just enough to make your mouth water for another bite before you’d even swallowed the first.

When you opened your eyes Wanda was staring. Not smiling, not exactly. Something sharper. Hungrier. Her pupils had gone wide despite the bright afternoon light pouring through the window.

"Jesus." You said, your cheeks heating up.

"These are obscene." Wanda leaned one hip against the counter, arms folding under her chest. The motion made the linen shirt pull tight across her breasts.

"Obscene." She repeated, tasting the word.

"I did warn you they were rich. Some things are better when you don’t hold back, don’t you think? When you just… let it melt on your tongue until you can’t help making a mess of yourself."

You laughed nervously, missing the double meaning entirely, licking a stray bit of chocolate from your lower lip.

"I’m gonna gain ten pounds and I literally just met you." Wanda’s gaze tracked the path of your tongue like she was memorizing it.

"Worth it." She said softly.

"Some flavors are meant to be indulged. Repeatedly. Until you’re addicted and don’t even pretend to feel bad about it anymore." You missed that too, offering her a slice of a brownie instead. She shook her head, smile small and secret.

"No, sweetheart. Those are all for you."

Wanda asked you more questions after that. About your family back home, your own job,remote marketing, boring but extremely flexible, and what your dreams and goals for life were. You answered everything easily, comfortably, the perfect polite new neighbor.

But the whole time Wanda watched your mouth. Every time you took another bite and made that soft, helpless little sound in the back of your throat, her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her cup of tea that she hadn't really touched since you had taken a bite from the brownie.

Just then, you heard the sound of a car pull up. You glanced at the time on your phone. Wanda had been helping you for almost three hours.

"Oh wow, it's 2 pm already."

"My, my, my, I guess it is." The sound of the front door opening made you sit up straighter, hands moving to dust the nonexistent crumbs off of the marble counter.

Miles walked in, briefcase in hand before setting it down. He glanced at you then at Wanda.

"Oh! Uhm, Miles this is Wanda our neighbor. She lives two houses down. She came over and brought some brownies."

"I see. Hello." He extended his hand, Wanda shook it with a polite smile.

"She also helped me unpack. She helped me quite a bit." Wanda gives you a sheepish grin while Miles nods his head.

"Wow, that's mighty kind of you Wanda."

"Please. I have no problem helping out. That's what neighbors do, we offer helping hands where we can." Wanda's eyes dart towards you, you avert them immediately.

"Well I'm grateful that you helped my wife. But you must excuse me, I'd like to  just freshen up. It was nice meeting you again Wanda." He gives her one final polite nod before his hand squeezes yours.

"Well, I take it that I should go." She says, hands finding their way into her back pockets. You guide her to the front door.

"Thank you again Wanda. For the brownies, helping me and for our little talk." You chuckle lightly, she smirks like she has something more to say. Just as Wanda is about to leave, she pauses in front of the door.

"You’ve got a little something." She reached out and brushed her thumb across the corner of your lip, slow, collecting a smudge of chocolate. Then, without breaking eye contact, she brought her thumb to her own mouth and licked it clean. You felt that swipe of her tongue in your knees.

"See you around, y/n." She said, voice low.

"Enjoy the brownies."

She walked back across the lawn like nothing had happened.

You stood in the doorway a long time after she was gone, plate in your hands, heart beating too fast for reasons you didn’t understand yet.

Two houses down, Wanda let herself in, closed the door, and leaned back against it. She closed her eyes and replayed that moan, soft, surprised and  greedy.

She smiled, slow and certain. Yes.

She wanted you. And Wanda Maximoff had never particularly cared about waiting for things she wanted. What she wanted, she got.

___

"How was work today?"

"Good. Harold showed me around. It's new but I can handle it. The guys there are great too. They have wives, thought maybe we could invite them over, have a little dinner and get to know them. Maybe you can make new friends too." Dinner meant more cooking and cleaning for you. Which you didn't mind but it gets to a point.

"I think I'm alright. Actually I kind of liked hanging with our neighbor."

"Wanda?" He says with a surprised tone, eyebrows arched like what you told him was the joke of the century.

"Yeah. She's actually nice."

"Don't you think she's a little too old for you to be hanging around with?"

"Well no. She's different, sweet and has a different perspective on life." That and she also makes you feel... things.

"Well as long as you're happy, I'm happy.

"Yeah."

"Hey, come here." His hand move towards your waist, bringing you up to straddle him. His hands run up and down your arms before cupping your ass. You know what he wants and you know you'll end up giving it to him, because that's what a wife has to do. Right?

___

Friday evening and you'd just finished washing all of the dishes. You placed the dish rag down, before wiping your hands down on your jeans. That's when your phone lights up with an unknown number.

Unknown Number

The Violet Hour tomorrow night. 8 sharp. Just a few of the girls. Come drink the kind of tequila that makes you forget you’re supposed to be good. -W.

You stared at the screen until the the faint sound of whatever TV show was playing in the backgrounds credits came rolling on. Miles was in the shower, singing some nineties R&B off key. You proceeded to save the contact as Wanda (Neighbor) before the guilt could crawl up your throat.

Later, after a much needed shower, you sat down onto the bed while lathering your skin with the new body lotion Miles brought home for you.

"Wanda invited me out." You mumbled, placing the bottle onto your vanity.

"Really? When?"

"Tomorrow night. Said we'd go to the Violet Hour, meet up with some other wives for a few drinks."

"That seems fun. Opportunity to make friends." You climbed into the bed and he kissed your temple.

"Besides you deserve it after all the packing you did." You smiled the same practiced smile and felt it crack at the edges.

"Yeah."

___

The Violet Hour sat tucked between a closed record store and a boutique that only sold candles. Inside, the lighting was purple and low, jazz curling from hidden speakers like smoke. Wanda was already at the bar, one heel hooked on the rung of a stool, backless black dress clinging to every line of her. She turned when you walked in and the look she gave you was slow, deliberate, proprietary.

Her friends descended like a pack of beautifully dressed wolves.

Natasha, long red waves, with a very sharp tongue, hugged you like you were old sorority sisters. Carol, blonde and sun kissed, pressed a cold martini into your hand before you could introduce yourself. Monica ordered the second round before the first was finished.

You laughed more in the time span of two hours than you had in the last six months. They asked about Miles' new job, about the wedding you’d had in your parents’ church, about whether you planned to have any kids soon. You answered everything correctly. The perfect young and devoted wife. The one who still said "yes ma'am" and baked banana bread for new neighbors. You were cute and they already loved you.

By midnight the table was littered with empty glasses and lime corpses. Someone, Natasha, slammed a palm on the wood of the table.

"Tequila. From the top shelf. None of that well-swill nonsense." The bartender nodded then lined up six shot glasses like soldiers. Carol produced salt. Monica sliced limes with a pocketknife she pulled from only God knows where.

Wanda had been quiet for the last twenty minutes, watching you over the rim of her glass. When Natasha shoved a shot towards her, Wanda caught your eye and smiled like a woman who already knew how the night ended.

Natasha leaned in, her voice conspiratorial.

"Wanda hasn’t done a body shot since college. You should feel honored detka." Your stomach flipped.

"A body shot? W-what's that?"

"You've never done a body shot sweetheart?" Wanda asked while placing her half drunk wine glass down.

"N-no, I've never." You shook your head, feeling embarrassed.

The table erupted. Someone, probably Carol, wolf whistled, the sound made you blush. Wanda stood, chair scraping back. She moved like someone used to being watched. When she reached you, she didn’t ask. She simply took the full shot glass from Natasha’s hand and stepped between your knees. The music dipped just enough for you to hear your own heartbeat.

"Do you trust me?" You found yourself nodding your head before you could even process it.

"Hold very still, darling." She murmured.

You couldn’t have moved even if the building caught fire.

She slid two fingers into the neckline of your blouse. Slow and deliberate, then nestled the cold glass right between your breasts, and you swallowed. The rim pressed into soft skin and your breath stuttered. The glass stayed, trapped by the swell of you and the sudden frantic thud beneath your ribs. Wanda leaned in until her lips almost brushed your ear.

"Good girl." Then she dipped her head and licked a slow, wet stripe across the curve where your neck met your shoulder. The heat of her tongue was shocking, deliberate, filthy, reverent. Your knees parted wider without permission. She sprinkled salt along the glistening trail, crystals clinging to your skin like frost.

She licked again, slower this time, collecting every grain, teeth grazing faintly, eyes watching your every reaction. A soft, involuntary sound escaped you, it was half a gasp, half a whimper. No one heard over the bassline. She straightened just enough to meet your eyes again, then bent and took the shot glass between her teeth. The motion dragged the rim across your skin before she tilted her head back and swallowed. Tequila slid down her throat, her pulse fluttered visibly at the base of her neck. She bit into the lime without looking away from you, juice running over her bottom lip.

The table went wild. Cheers, applause, someone shouting "Get a room you heathens!" Your legs were trembling. Between your thighs you were suddenly, achingly wet and throbbing, the lace of your panties soaked through. Your nipples pressed hard against your bra, the cold circle left by the shot glass a brand you could still feel. Wanda licked lime from her lip and smiled like the devil who’d just been handed a new contract.

"Welcome to our group newbie." Monica patted your shoulder before ordering another shot. Wanda's eyes are still trained on yours but now they're darker, hungrier, like she wanted to devour something... You.

Natasha pulls Wanda to the go get another drink after that, you excuse yourself to the bathroom. Carol offers to accompany you but you tell her that you're fine and that you just need to freshen up.  You stumbled to the bathroom on legs that didn’t feel like yours. In the mirror you looked drugged, your pupils blown, lips swollen, throat marked with the faint pink trail of her tongue and a faint dusting of salt that hadn’t quite been licked away. You touched it with shaking fingers.

This wasn’t you!! You didn’t do things like this. You didn’t let married women lick tequila from your skin in front of strangers. You didn’t go home to your husband with another woman’s spit cooling on your collarbone and wetness slicking your thighs. You sighed, legs clenching involuntarily. You were fucked.

And then, when you stepped back into the hallway, Wanda was waiting, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed under her breasts. The hallway was dim, the music muffled.

She didn’t speak. She simply reached out and tucked an escaped curl behind your ear, thumb lingering on the shell, tracing down to the spot she’d licked twice. Her nail scraped lightly over the damp skin and your breath hitched again.

"I hope that was okay Malyshka. I didn't do too much no?"

"N-no, I-I liked it."

"Yeah?" Her voice dropped, low and husky and you nodded with a blush. You have been doing a lot of blushing lately.

"Well then, I guess we'll just have to do it again some time." She takes another step forward so that her lips brush the shell of your ear.

"Maybe alone this time." You let out a sound, half a gasp and half a whimper. She smiles innocently as if she wasn't the reason for the flood gates currently happening in between your legs.

"Hey, you two! We're doing final shots before we leave." Carol yells, pulling you out of whatever trance you currently were in. Wanda disappears  to the bar after that. But the smirk on her face is permanent. Was your devoted housewife of a neighbor actually implying sex?

The thought itself seemed crazy to you. But then you remember the way she licked your skin longer than necessary, the way she looked at you, that damn smirk still sitting one her face.

When it's finally time to go home, the group of girls hug you. They tell you to call them, mention how they want tea parties and gossip but more spontaneous evenings like this one. Wanda however, is still looking at you like she wants to eat. The sight alone sends heat down to your core but you look away, pulling your phone out to call an Uber.

"Need a lift?" She asks once she finds you outside the bar. You lift your phone showing her the Uber app and she shakes her head.

"I'm not letting you Uber when I'm just here. Come on detka, it will make me calmer to know that you're safe instead of halfway across the city in some random car." You chew the inside of your lip and then shrug your shoulders. Why not?

"And don't worry, I'm sober enough to drive angel." She winks and you let out a breathless chuckle. You slide into the passenger side, she slides into the driver's side and buckles up.

"Settled?"

"Yeah." She let's out that low hum of hers then starts the ignition and before you know it, you're driving home.

There's no small talk happening between the two of you, just the faint sound of whatever nineties song that had been trending that week, playing from the radio. Wanda glances your way a few times, you don't notice because you're to busy staring out the window with flushed cheeks. Her hands grip the wheel tighter, teeth biting the inside of her cheeks.

Eventually you see the familiar white picket fences on your street. She parks in the middle of both of your houses then turns to look at you.

"I had fun tonight. The girls are nice." You say with a small nod, Wanda hums in agreement.

"Thank you again for the ride. I-I should go." You open the door and bolt before Wanda can say anything else.

You slipped through the front door just after one on the morning, heels dangling from two fingers, pulse still thrumming in your throat like you’d sprinted the whole way home. The house was dark except for the little light above the stove. Miles hadn’t waited up. Good. You weren’t ready for questions or the weight of his arm around your shoulders when your skin still smelled like Wanda’s perfume and tequila.

You locked the door, leaned your back against it, and let your head fall with a soft thud. And then the thoughts came. Fast, filthy, unstoppable.

god, the way she looked at me. Like she already knew exactly how I’d sound when I came undone.

You closed your eyes and felt it again. The cold rim of the shot glass sliding between your breasts, the slow drag of her tongue up your shoulder, the way her teeth had grazed your skin just hard enough to promise more. You could still feel the way her eyes lingered on your skin, the heat of her breath fanning across your collarbone, and her tongue god her tongue! The way it slid across your already warm skin like it knew it's path, like she'd done this millions of times before, and you wanted her to do it.

Your nipples tightened against the lace of your bra at the memory. You hated that. You hated how your body had answered her before your mind even had a vote.

She’s married!

You’re married!!!

She has a husband who probably kisses her the same way Miles kisses you. Polite, predictable, grateful. She has children, maybe. A life. A reputation. And still she licked salt off your skin in front of half the bar like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You pressed your thighs together and felt the slick proof that you were already ruined. You shouldn’t want this.

You shouldn’t want her mouth again, lower this time, deliberate, merciless.

You shouldn’t be picturing the way her back would arch if you slid your hands under that black dress and finally touched all the places she’d touched you. You shouldn’t be wet for a woman whose wedding ring had probably cost more than your car. But you were.

You were standing in your own foyer, wedding photo smiling down at you from the wall, and every breath tasted like her. Every heartbeat was chanting her name in a rhythm you couldn’t silence.

Wanda.

Wanda.

Wanda.

Wanda.

You dragged yourself upstairs on shaky legs, past the bedroom where Miles slept on his back, mouth slightly open, oblivious and peaceful. You locked yourself in the bathroom and stared at your reflection.

Flushed cheeks. Chest trembling slightly. That faint pink trail on your shoulder where her tongue had been. You touched it with trembling fingers and felt your clit throb in response. You hated her for making you feel this alive. You hated yourself for how much you didn’t want it to stop.

You turned the shower on cold, but even the shock of the water couldn’t rinse her away. You stood under the spray and let yourself imagine, just for a second, what it would feel like to text her right now. To say come over. To let her ruin you properly on the same sheets you shared with your husband.

You didn’t text her. You were still a good wife, technically.

But when you finally crawled into bed, careful not to wake Miles, you turned on your side and pressed your face into the pillow so he wouldn’t hear the way your breath hitched. Because in the dark, with the house silent and your pulse loud in your ears, you let yourself admit it. You wanted Wanda Maximoff more than you’d ever wanted anything in your entire safe, small, predictable, holy, perfect life.

And tomorrow, when the sun came up and you had to smile at Miles across the breakfast table and pretend you were still the woman he married, you would carry that want like a secret bruise, tender, hidden, and aching every time you moved.

You fell asleep with her name on your tongue, her scent still lingering at on your skin and her tongue still kicking salt off of your body.

And you knew, with a certainty that terrified you, that this was only the beginning of falling.

___

You don’t remember falling asleep at all.

One moment you’re curled on your side, sheets cool against your fevered skin, Miles' steady breathing a quiet metronome beside you. The next thing, the room tilts, the mattress dissolves, and you’re somewhere else entirely.

Candlelight. Jasmine. The low, slow throb of music you felt in your bones at The Violet Hour.

You’re on your back in the middle of Wanda’s bed, you know it’s hers without being told. Scarlet sheets beneath you, silk so soft it feels like water, wet. Your wrists are caught above your head, not tied, just held, by one of her hands while the other trails lazily down the center of your body. She’s above you, hair loose and wild, candlelight turning the red into living flame. Naked. Gloriously naked. Heavy breasts swaying as she leans down, nipples brushing your lips with every breath.

"Stay still, sweetheart." She murmurs, voice velvet and smoke.

"Let me play." You try to speak and nothing comes out. You’re already trembling. She drags her mouth down your throat, teeth scraping over the exact spot she licked salt from hours ago.

The memory and the dream collide. Your back arches hard enough to lift you off the bed. She hums approval and keeps going, tongue tracing the lace edge of your bra before she rips it down with her teeth.

Your nipple is in her mouth before you can gasp. She sucks hard, merciless, rolling the peak against her tongue until your hips jerk helplessly. Then she switches to the other, biting just enough to make you sob her name into the dark.

"Please-"

"Please what?”" She lifts her head, eyes glowing like embers.

"Tell me what my good little wife wants." The words burn. You shake your head, ashamed and desperate at once.

She smiles, slow and wicked, and slides lower. Her palms spread your thighs wide, nails digging crescents into soft skin. You’re bare to her, no panties, no pretense. She looks at you like you’re dessert and she’s been fucking starving for years.

"Look at you. This pussy of yours." She whispers, breath ghosting over your clit.

"Soaked for a woman you’re not supposed to want." You whimper. She licks one long, deliberate stripe up your center and your entire body seizes. The dream turns ruthless. She eats you like it’s punishment and worship at once, her tongue fucking deep inside you, then flicking fast over your clit until your legs shake uncontrollably.

Every time you get close she pulls back, blowing cool air over your throbbing pussy, laughing softly when you cry out in frustration.

"Please, Wanda, please-"

"Say it." She growls against your folds. "Say you’re mine."

"I’m yours." You sob, broken and open "I’m all yours, just please-" She sucks your clit hard and slides two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right.

The orgasm slams into you so violently your vision whites out. You scream her name, raw, wrecked, shameless, hips grinding against her face as wave after wave rips through you. But she doesn’t stop. Oh no.

She keeps fucking you through it, adding a third finger, tongue relentless, until you’re coming again, harder, wetness flooding her hand, your thighs, the sheets beneath you. You feel yourself gush and the humiliation only makes it worse (better). She crawls back up your body, fingers still buried inside you, and kisses you so you taste yourself dripping from her lips.

"Wake up, baby." She whispers against your mouth.

"Wake up and remember who you belong to now."

You jerk awake with a choked gasp. The bedroom is dark. Miles is still asleep beside you, one arm flung over his head. The clock reads 3:18 a.m. Your panties are soaked through embarrassingly and unmistakably. Your thighs are slick. Your clit pulses with every heartbeat like it’s still trapped between Wanda’s lips.

You lie there trembling, aftershocks rippling through you, tears pricking hot at the corners of your eyes because it felt so real you can still taste her on your tongue. You press a hand over your mouth to keep from making a sound and squeeze your thighs together, chasing the ghost of her fingers. Tomorrow you’ll smile at Miles over coffee and pretend everything is fine. But tonight, in the dark, with your body still shaking apart from a dream you had no right to have, you know the truth.

You’re already hers. You just haven’t said it out loud yet.

___

A few days, maybe four, goes by and you've been avoiding the woman at all costs. Not because of that night but because of the very detailed dream that you had that was now engraved into your body, mind and soul. You'd close your eyes and see her, you'd lay down and feel her, you'd sniff and smell her. You couldn't get rid of Wanda even if you tried to.

She tried reaching out, you told her that you were too busy with wife duties around the house because your family would be visiting soon. Wanda did not believe you at all. But she kept to herself. The last thing Wanda would do was chase you. She'd let you stumble on your own path and fail until you saw that you needed her. As for now, she watched in amusement from afar.

The next time you see Wanda is at the church that practically the whole town of Westview attends. The sermon is beautiful, everything goes well until you feel the heat of someone looking at you. You turn your head once and find Wanda staring at you from afar. She doesn't lift her hand to wave, she doesn't give you a nod of acknowledgment. She simply stares and it makes you swallow.

Miles pats your thigh, asking if you were alright. You nodded even though you felt queasy. After church, you finally see her again. But this time she's with what you assume was her family. A talk blonde man, and two boys with brunette hair.

"Wanda, it's good to see you again." Miles smiles while shaking her hand. Yours is wrapped around his arm, eyes looking at the tiled floors as if they were the most interesting thing on earth. When you finally looked up, those big green eyes of hers were already staring at you.

"Wanda!" You grabbed onto her hand, guiding her to where you needed her once again.

"More baby?" She smirks, eyes staring deeply into your own.

"More."

"Hi Wanda." You greet politely.

"Hello, I'm Vision." The blonde man speaks up and Wanda chuckles in response.

"Forgive me, this is my husband Vision, and these are our kids, Billy and Tommy." The kids wave, you give them a smile.

"Vision these are our new neighbors, the ones that moved into old McConaughey's house."

"Ah yes! It's great to finally meet you." Vision shakes Miles' hand and the two men immediately start conversating about...something.

"Billy, Tommy, excuse mommy for a second. Why don't you two go see what Jeremy is up to." The boys nod before running along. Wanda steps forward and interlocks her arm with yours. You let her because your body recognizes her immediately. Your body leans to her like she's home, even though home was just a few feet away.

Wanda pulls you aside. To many others, this seems like a friendly interaction amongst friends, but in your mind, it's far from "just friends".

"You've been avoiding me sweetheart." Wanda says, guiding you two to a quieter place inside the church.

"I-no, I'm not. I've just been busy." You nod and she hums but it's far from "I'm convinced."

"Oh your pussy is so greedy, look at her taking three of my fingers like a champ!" You arch your back while your eyes roll back. She moans.

"What happened the other night, I must tell you to know that it was just a friendly thing." She tucks a stray curl behind your ear.

"But, I won't lie to you y/n, I find myself very attracted to you." Your lips part, she pulls away from your arms, but stands right in front of you, that sweet vanilla and cinnamon perfume of hers invades your nose.

"I find myself thinking about you quite a lot ever since you moved in. And we'll, that night just sealed the deal."

"I-" You stutter.

"Would you be interested in having an affair?"

Chapter 1: The Zero Vote

The morning sun hit the wrought-iron gates of the Westview Institute for Gifted Young Ladies, but it didn't seem to offer any warmth. It just made the black metal gleam like the bars of a very expensive, very exclusive cage. The architecture was a confusing mix of neo-gothic intimidation and sleek, modern surveillance, gargoyles perched on eaves next to 4k security cameras.

You sat in the back of the taxi, watching the world outside the window shift from the bustling, chaotic streets of the city to the manicured, eerie silence of the hill. The other students didn't take taxis. They arrived in a procession of sleek black sedans with tinted windows, or stepped off private shuttle buses adjusting blazers that likely cost more than your father's monthly pension. You saw a girl step out of a Bently, checking her reflection in the side mirror, her expression one of practiced boredom.

"Here you go, kid," the driver said, pulling up to the curb. He sounded relieved to be leaving. He eyed the gates warily. "Place looks less like a school and more like a fortress. You sure this is the right address?"

"It's just a school," you muttered, handing him the cash. "Just with better funding."

You stepped out onto the pavement. The air here was different. It was thinner, sharper. Your father, a man who treated parenting like a series of tactical briefings, had given you clear instructions before he deployed to his new station overseas. Assess the terrain. Locate the exits. Find the power structure. Don’t engage until you have intel. It was advice meant for a hostile foreign territory, but as you walked up the marble steps and through the heavy oak doors, you realized it applied perfectly here.

The interior of Westview didn’t smell like a high school. There was no scent of stale gym socks, floor wax, or cheap cafeteria pizza. It smelled of lemon oil, old money, and anxiety. It was a pressurized silence, the kind that rings in your ears, broken only by the soft click-clack of expensive loafers on polished marble.

You navigated the corridors, checking the map on your phone. The walls were lined with portraits of alumni, women who looked severe and successful, staring down at you with judgment. You found the hallway for the second years.

Class 2-5.

The "transfer class," they called it on the anonymous forums you’d scoured the night before. But the rumors were darker, buried in archived threads and deleted comments. High turnover rate. Strange academic records. Psychological breaks.

You found the door. It was heavy, dark wood with a brass handle that looked like it hadn't been touched by an un-sanitized hand in decades. You took a breath, adjusting your bag, a nondescript canvas thing that stood out like a bruise against the sea of designer leather around you, and pushed the door open.

The silence that greeted you wasn't peaceful. It was heavy. It was the silence of a held breath.

Thirty pairs of eyes snapped toward you instantly. You stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind you. The room was bathed in stark, white light filtering through high, arched windows. The desks were arranged in a perfect, military-style grid. No one was slouching. No one was whispering. There were no passed notes, no giggles, no sleeping heads on desks.

"Name?"

The voice came from the front of the room. It was a voice that expected to be obeyed, smooth, cool, and utterly devoid of welcome.

You turned your head slowly. Sitting at the teacher’s podium, though no teacher was present, was a girl who looked like she had been carved out of marble and brought to life by a cold wind.

Wanda Maximoff.

You recognized her immediately from the dossier you’d compiled. Class President. Top of the academic rankings. Heiress to the Maximoff Industries fortune. But the pixelated photo on the school website hadn't prepared you for the reality of her presence. She was striking, with long, wavy auburn hair that cascaded over her shoulders, catching the light. She wore the standard grey uniform, but on her, it looked like high-end couture, tailored to within an inch of its life. A red velvet ribbon was tied neatly around her collar, a splash of blood-red against the monochrome palette.

She didn't look up at you immediately. She was writing in a leather-bound notebook, her pen moving in rhythmic, precise strokes. The sound of the nib scratching against the paper was the only noise in the room.

"Y/N," you said, keeping your voice level, projecting it just enough to be heard without shouting.

Wanda stopped writing. The pause lasted exactly two seconds, a calculated power move designed to make you wait. Then, she slowly lifted her head.

The first thing you noticed was her eyes. They were dark, framed by thick lashes, and they looked… tired. Not sleepy-tired, but soul-tired. The kind of exhaustion that comes from holding up a ceiling that’s trying to collapse on you. There were faint, purple bruises of fatigue under her eyes, expertly concealed with expensive concealer, but visible to someone trained to look for cracks.

"Y/N," she repeated, tasting the name as if checking it for poison. Her accent was faint, refined, polished away by years of boarding schools. "You're late."

"The bell hasn't rung," you countered, checking the analog clock on the wall. "I have two minutes."

Wanda’s eyes narrowed slightly. The defiance registered. She stood up.

She was tall. Taller than you by a good three inches, and she wore heeled loafers that added to the height. She walked around the podium with a grace that felt rehearsed, stopping a few feet away from you. She didn't invade your space, but she commanded it. She looked you up and down, her gaze clinical, dissecting your posture, your cheap bag, your worn sneakers, your lack of accessories.

"We value punctuality here," she said, her tone icy. "And order. The atmosphere of this class is delicate. Do not disrupt it."

"I'm just here to study," you said, holding her gaze. You didn't blink.

A flicker of something crossed her face, annoyance? Surprise? Curiosity? Most people probably looked at the floor when she spoke to them.

"Then go sit down," she commanded softly, turning her back on you to return to her ledger. "Seat 24."

You walked down the aisle, feeling the weight of the room on your back. It felt like walking through water. You scanned the rows as you moved, cataloging the threats.

By the window sat the obvious ruling class.

Agatha Harkness. She was leaning back in her chair, legs crossed, twirling a pen that sparkled with what looked like real diamonds under the lights. She had a face that was beautiful and cruel, like a poisonous flower. She watched you with a small, predatory smile, her eyes tracking your movement like a cat watching a bird land on the windowsill.

Next to her was Yelena Belova. She had her feet up on the empty chair in front of her, leaning back with her hands behind her head. She was aggressively chewing gum, blowing small bubbles and popping them. She radiated an aura of dangerous boredom, a coil of energy waiting to spring.

And on the other side, Nebula, a girl with a shaved head, piercing black eyes, and knuckles that looked scarred. She wasn't looking at you; she was staring at her desk, vibrating with a low-level aggression.

The Queen (Agatha), the Wildcard (Yelena), and the Muscle (Nebula), you cataloged. And Wanda, the Gatekeeper.

You found Seat 24. It was in the back, in the shadows. The desk looked older than the others, scratched and worn. Next to it sat a girl who looked like she was trying to phase through her own furniture.

Her name was Kamala Khan. You knew her from the roster, scholarship student, art club. She was hunched over a sketchbook, drawing thick, frantic lines of charcoal. Her hair was messy, her collar slightly askew. She looked like a rabbit in a den of wolves.

You sat down. The chair creaked.

"Hi," you whispered, leaning slightly toward her. "I'm Y/N."

Kamala flinched so hard her pencil skidded across the paper, leaving a black streak. She turned to you, her eyes wide and terrified. Her breathing was shallow.

"Don't," she breathed, her voice shaking so much the word broke in half. "Please. Just… don't look at me. Don't talk to me. It makes it worse."

You frowned, your instincts flaring. "What makes it—"

CHIMMMMMMME.

The intercom sound wasn't a bell, it was a digital tone, sharp, dissonant, and jarring. It cut through the air like a knife.

"Phones out," Wanda announced from the front.

She didn't shout, but her voice carried to every corner of the room. She stood at the podium, her spine rigid. "It is the last Thursday of the month."

The shift in the room was immediate and terrifying. The rigid posture of the students collapsed into frantic energy. Hands dove into pockets and bags. Eyes darted around, assessing alliances. It felt less like a classroom and more like a stock exchange floor right before a market crash. The air grew hot with panic.

Wanda walked down the aisle, holding a small stack of laminated cards. She moved robotically, handing them out. She stopped at your desk. She didn't hand the card to you, she slid it across the surface with two fingers, as if touching you might contaminate her with whatever social disease you carried.

"Install the app," she said, her voice flat. "It’s the Pyramid Game. Participation is mandatory."

You picked up the card. It featured a QR code and a stylized triangle logo. "And if I don't?"

The silence that followed was absolute. The tapping of screens stopped. Even Agatha stopped twirling her pen to look at you with amusement.

Wanda leaned down. She placed one hand on your desk, leaning her weight on it. Her nails were manicured, painted a deep, blood-red crimson. She loomed over you, her height and presence overwhelming. You could smell her perfume, something expensive, floral but cold, like ozone and frost.

"Then you don't exist," she whispered. The threat wasn't in the volume, it was in the certainty. "This isn't a suggestion, Y/N. Just vote, don't cause a scene."

You looked up at her face. It was a mask of perfect composure, smooth and untouchable. But you were close enough to see the tension in her neck, the way a small muscle ticked in her jaw.

You hate this, you realized with a jolt. You're doing it, but you hate it. Why?

"Fine," you said.

Wanda straightened up immediately, the mask back in place. She moved on to Kamala, dropping a card on her desk without looking at her.

You pulled out your phone. You weren't going to fight a war you didn't understand yet. You scanned the code. The app installed instantly, bypassing your phone's security warnings. THE PYRAMID GAME.

The interface was dark, sleek, and gamified.

INSTRUCTIONS:

Vote for 4 classmates you like.

Anonymous voting.

Rank is determined by vote count.

F-Rank is the target.

Target.

The word hung there on the screen, heavy and ugly.

You looked around. The other girls were tapping furiously. Some were hiding their screens, shielding them with their bodies. Others, like Agatha, were flaunting them, smiling as they cast their votes, whispering to their neighbors. It was a popularity contest weaponized.

You had to vote. You scrolled through the list of names. You didn't know anyone. Strategy dictated you stay neutral, fly under the radar.

You voted for Kamala (she looked like she needed a win, or at least a friend). And Wanda (she seemed like the only one doing any actual work, and appeasing the gatekeeper was standard operating procedure). You picked two random names in the middle of the alphabet.

You deliberately skipped Agatha.

"Voting closed," Wanda announced, checking a sleek tablet held in her hands.

The smartboard at the front of the room flickered to life. A digital pyramid began to build itself, block by block, accompanied by a low, bass-heavy sound effect.

A-RANK:

Agatha Harkness (44 Votes)

Agatha let out a soft, musical laugh, checking her reflection in her phone screen. She winked at Yelena.

B-RANK:

Wanda Maximoff (39 Votes)

Yelena Belova (20 Votes)

The list scrolled down. C-Rank… D-Rank… names you didn't know. The murmurs in the room grew louder. And then, the bottom. The red zone.

F-RANK:

Kamala Khan (1 Vote)

Y/N L/N (0 Votes)

Zero.

A low murmur rippled through the room. It wasn't pity. It was amusement. A soft, cruel laughter started in the back and spread forward. Agatha turned in her seat, resting her chin on her hand, smiling at you with genuine delight.

You stared at the screen. Zero votes. Even the weird kid usually got a pity vote from someone. This was coordinated. It was a hazing ritual. They had frozen you out before you even walked in the door.

Wanda walked to the whiteboard. She picked up a red marker. The screech of the cap coming off sounded like a gunshot. She circled the F-Rank names.

"The ranks are set," Wanda announced. Her voice was steady, but she wasn't looking at the class. She was staring intently at the board, as if wishing the names would change. "Y/N. Kamala. You are F-Rank. You will wear the designation for the month."

"Designation?" you asked, keeping your voice level.

Wanda turned to face you. Her face was unreadable, a beautiful, stony wall. "You are the targets. No teacher intervention. No complaints. The F-Rank serves the class. This is the game."

The bell rang.

"Class dismissed," Wanda said.

But nobody left.

Nebula stood up. She walked over to Kamala’s desk. She didn't say a word. She just kicked the leg of the chair, hard.

The chair tipped. Kamala yelped, crashing to the floor. She curled into a ball instantly, covering her head with her arms, a practiced motion.

"Target practice," Nebula grunted. She picked up a heavy rubber band ball from a nearby desk, weighing it in her hand. It was dense, solid enough to break a nose.

You didn't think. You just moved.

Nebula turned her attention to you. She sneered, her eyes dark with the promise of violence. "Sit down, Zero. You’re next."

She didn't wait for a reaction. She wound up and threw the ball. It was a fast pitch, vicious and aimed right at the bridge of your nose.

You didn't flinch. You didn't cower. Your hand moved on instinct, a reflex honed by years of catching keys, phones, and combat knives your dad tossed at you during drills.

Thwack

You caught the ball inches from your face. The impact stung your palm, a sharp slap of pain, but you didn't show it. You gripped the ball tight.

The room froze. It was dead silent. Nebula stared at your hand, her mouth slightly open. Agatha sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing, the smile vanishing.

"You have poor aim," you said, your voice sounding bored.

You tossed the ball gently into the trash can across the aisle. It hit the rim and dropped in with a satisfying swish.

You turned to Kamala, offering a hand. She stared at you like you were an alien, but she took it. "Pack your bag. We're leaving."

"You can't leave," a voice said.

You looked toward the door. Wanda was standing there. She had her arms crossed over her chest, blocking the exit. She looked like a sentinel, guarding the gates of hell.

"F-Ranks participate in the after-school duties," Wanda said. "That is the rule."

You walked up to her. She held her ground, staring down at you. You stepped into her personal space, close enough to see the faint freckles across her nose that makeup couldn't quite hide, close enough to see the gold flecks in her dark irises.

"Rules are for people who can't think for themselves, President," you said quietly.

Wanda’s eyes flashed. For a second, the mask slipped. You saw anger, yes, but also fear. Panic.

"You have no idea how this world works," she whispered, her voice tight with stress.

"I know that a girl with your resources shouldn't be playing henchman for a bully like Agatha," you whispered back, pitching your voice so only she could hear.

Wanda stiffened as if you’d slapped her. Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened, losing focus for a microsecond. You had struck a nerve. "Move back," she ordered, her voice icy.

"Make me," You challenged.

You both stood there, a stalemate of will. Wanda looked at the class, then back at you. She was calculating the variables. If she let you go, she looked weak. If she fought you, she risked a scene she couldn't control.. she was calculating the cost of a scene. "Move," you said.

Wanda clenched her jaw. She hesitated, her internal war playing out on her features. Then, she stepped aside, clearing the path.

"Go," she said, her voice regaining its chill, though it sounded brittle now. "But this isn't over."

You grabbed Kamala by the arm and guided her out of the room. You didn't look back, but you could feel Wanda’s eyes burning into your back as the door closed.

You didn't go home immediately. You sat in the local library, a few blocks away, stealing the free Wi-Fi. You needed to understand the battlefield. You needed to know who the enemy was.

You opened a search tab on your laptop. "Wanda Maximoff."

The results flooded in. Maximoff Industries. Teenage Heiress. Academic Awards. Charity Galas. It was a curated life of perfection. Photos of her cutting ribbons, shaking hands, looking poised and perfect.

You scrolled back. Two years.

The headlines changed. The font seemed darker.

"TRAGEDY AT WESTVIEW.""PIETRO MAXIMOFF FOUND DEAD.""SUICIDE SUSPECTED AT ELITE BOARDING SCHOOL."

You clicked on an image. It was a candid shot from a school event, taken before the tragedy. Wanda was laughing, her head thrown back, her arm thrown around a boy with platinum silver hair. They looked identical in features, but the boy, Pietro, looked softer. Wanda looked happy. Vibrant. Alive.

She looked nothing like the hollow statue you had met today.

You read the articles. Bullying allegations dismissed due to lack of evidence. Westview Board clears all students of wrongdoing. Maximoff family declines to comment.

The pieces clicked into place. The rigidity. The obsession with "Order." The way Wanda looked panicked when the violence started, but enforced the rules anyway.

She wasn't running the game because she was cruel. She was running it because she was terrified. She believed that if she controlled the Pyramid, if she regulated the bullying, kept it within "safe" parameters, she could prevent another situation like Pietro's. She was the warden of her own prison, keeping the monsters in check by feeding them regulated sacrifices.

You closed the laptop. The screen went black, reflecting your own grim expression.

It was evening when you walked back to the school to catch the late bus. The sun had set, and the streetlights were humming. The air was cold.

A sleek black town car was idling at the curb near the school gates. A driver in a suit stood by the open door.

Wanda walked out of the school. She had shed the school blazer and was wearing a long, camel-colored coat that probably cost more than your dad’s car. She looked exhausted, rubbing her temples, her guard down for just a moment. She looked small against the massive architecture of the school.

You stepped out of the shadows.

Wanda stopped. Her body tensed instantly, the mask slamming back into place. She straightened her spine, looking down at you, her expression imperious.

"Stalking is against the code of conduct, Y/N."

"I'm not stalking. I'm observing."

"Observe elsewhere." She moved to step around you.

"Pietro," you said.

The name hung in the air like smoke.

Wanda froze. She went completely still. The air around you seemed to drop ten degrees. She slowly turned her head to look at you. Her eyes were dangerous, flashing with a volatile mix of grief and rage.

"What did you say?" she whispered.

"He was an F, wasn't he?" you asked, keeping your voice soft, devoid of judgment. "That's why you do it. You think if you control the Pyramid, you can save them. You think you're protecting everyone from the chaos."

Wanda turned fully toward you. She took a step closer, towering over you. Her composure was cracking, revealing a raw, jagged wound underneath.

"Do not speak his name," she hissed. "You don't know him. You don't know me. You don't know anything about this place."

"I know you're scared," you said. "But it's not working, Wanda. Kamala is slowly dying in there. Just like he did."

Wanda’s face contorted. For a second, you thought she might cry, or hit you. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. Instead, she built the wall higher. She leaned down, her face inches from yours.

"You think you're a hero," she said, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "But you're just a variable I haven't solved yet. I keep the order because the alternative is anarchy. If the Pyramid falls, everyone gets crushed. Including you."

"Then I guess I better be strong enough to hold it up," you said.

Wanda scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. "You're a Zero, Y/N. You have no power."

She turned and got into the car. The heavy door slammed shut, sealing her inside her bubble of wealth and silence.

You watched as the car pulled away. Through the tinted window, you saw her silhouette. She was staring straight ahead, rigid and perfect. But you saw her hand resting on her knee. It was clenched into a fist so tight her knuckles were white.

A soft, hesitant knock at the door made your heart skip. You set your book down and crept toward it, eyes peering through the frosted curtain. Through the snow-blurred glass, a figure emerged—bundled in thick layers, their face mostly hidden beneath a snow scarf and hood. Your pulse quickened, equal parts alarm and curiosity. You were fearful, but you've always been one with a gentle heart. As if the cat behind you, stretching lazily, wasn't some proof of that. Knife within reach, you cracked the door open, and the bitter rush of winter air cut across your face.

The figure looked down at your small, tense frame. Her dark eyebrows drew together, eyes—green and piercing—catching the dim light. Her voice was muffled by layers of fabric, yet the words were clear:

“May I seek shelter here just until the storm calms?”

With only the slightest crack of the door, she slipped inside, letting the snow fall from her coat in small flakes that melted on the rug and floorboards. She moved deliberately, shedding her gloves and hood, each motion quiet and precise.

You stayed by the dining table, watching her, your eyes tracing her from the boots dusted with snow to the careful way she removed her outer layers. When she finally pulled back her scarf, her face emerged—green eyes sharp, unblinking, taking in your cabin with a silent assessment before landing on you.

She said nothing. Not a word. Only a faint nod, almost imperceptible, as if acknowledging the space she had entered.

You cleared your throat, feeling the weight of her gaze. “You… you can warm up by the fire,” you said, your voice loud in the quiet room.

She moved toward the hearth with slight hesitation, letting the heat touch her face. Snow fell from her hair, from her shoulders, and you felt the small intimacy of the room expand around her presence. The cat stirred, watching her silently, then resumed its rest.

"Would you like something…? water, tea… bread?"

No response from her, but when you come to sit by her with offerings of hot herbal teal and bread, she takes it with another nod your way. You only glance to her momentarily. There's a strange sense of peace besides her despite your sizing. Even then, you still have a knife stowed in your boot.

"What're you doing up in these woods," you ask quietly, glancing over at her.

"I'm from here," is her short response.

Well, no duh you thought. You can't find out if she doesn't want to talk, or if she's just painfully shy. In other words, it seems she doesn't wish to talk too much. With a sigh, you press your hands against your knees, standing.

"Well, my name's written on that cup of yours there. I'm going to head to sleep. You can sleep on the couch there if you'd like. Don't be afraid to wake me up if you need anything, okay?"

You stand, sock clad feet pattering as you walk towards your bed, sliding under the sheets as sleep overtakes you. The next morning when the storm cleared, you wake to one less presence in your home. The sun streams into your home gently, lighting the note on your dining table. A soft ripped piece of paper that read, "thank you for offering your home. I hope you enjoy the rest of your winter - wanda."

She was a stranger nonetheless, but your intention so far has never been wrong. She seemed like a big dog. Giant and intimidating, but a gentle soul. With a soft smile on your face, you tuck the note away in your bedside drawer.

It wasn’t until the following winter that you saw her again. A soft rapping at your door, and there she stood—bundled in snow gear once more, her green eyes finding yours. This time, she smiled, just slightly, as you offered her the same steaming cup of tea.

Unbeknownst to you, she had been coming each winter. Each visit, she grew a little less guarded, a little more at ease. And slowly, you found yourself looking forward to it. It became a quiet tradition. Neither of you ever spoke of it. If the subject arose, you both looked away sharply, as if merely mentioning it could burn you.

Over time, you’ve learned a little more about her—where she’s from, her family, her town, her past. And she, in turn, has learned about you. Where she was once the quiet one, she now takes the lead in conversation, asking questions, probing gently, curious to know more about you. Slowly, the silence that once defined her presence has softened into something warmer, more engaging, a quiet companionship built over time. A delicate companionship.

You’re making dinner, the oven humming on medium heat as you prepare something for the both of you. In an instant, your hand brushes against the hot surface, and a sharp hiss escapes your lips. Pain sears through your skin, red spreading across your hand.

Before you can fully register it, you feel her presence. She’s beside you, moving close with a quiet swiftness. Her expression mirrors yours—pained, concerned—and her cold hands find yours, holding them gently as she inspects the burn.

For a moment, time seems to stretch. Her eyes lift to yours, and you suddenly notice just how close you’ve become. Her hands linger on yours, and her gaze flickers to your lips. The hair on the back of your neck rises; your breath catches. Slowly, deliberately, her face moves nearer, eyes closing… and then, at the last moment, she pulls back, smiling softly. Her hands pat yours before she steps back toward the couch.

“Seems it’s just a burn. Be more careful—always so clumsy,” she says, her tone teasing.

You remain frozen for a heartbeat, still caught between shock and the lingering closeness. When it finally fades, you glance down—and notice your hand. The welt that had been forming is gone, pain vanished. Leaving you wondering if you had even been burnt in the beginning.

It was fall—the time just before winter, when the first bite of cold feels familiar, almost welcome. You were at the market, gathering food, stocking up for the months ahead. You’d woken with a headache and a slight fever, but brushed it off, blaming it on deep sleep. Now, though, you could feel it creeping deeper, settling into your bones.

Stupid. You cursed yourself as you walked home, your body betraying you. Everything was shutting down. The trees, the orange and brown leaf-dusted bushes—they blurred together. You weren’t even sure you were on the path anymore. Nothing made sense. You were cold, yet burning. Head pounding, body aching, nose running. The fever made your vision swim, and you squinted against it, leaning against a tree, fighting to stay upright. And then it was too much. Your body turned against you completely. The world bled at the edges of your vision, brown and black. The last thing you registered before the ground swallowed you was the unbearable weight of your own weakness—and then nothing.

Something pressed at the edges of your mind, and you woke with a sudden, unexplainable awareness. You were warm, wrapped in layers of furs, lying on the floor of a small hut. Despite the dizziness clouding your senses, you sat up abruptly, aware that you had no idea where you were.

Outside, you heard movement—the crunch of leaves, the shuffle of footsteps passing near where you had lain. Panic surged through you, heart racing, as you stumbled out from under the furs. A woman you didn’t recognize stepped into the hut. Your eyes shot to her, wide and alarmed, chest hammering, every nerve on edge like a trapped deer. And then—behind her—you heard a familiar voice, calm and grounding. Before you could process it fully, the figure you knew quite well appeared.

“You…” you gasped, breathless, as if you’d run a mile. “You… you’re… where am I? What… what’s happening?”

Questions tumbled from your lips, spiraling out of control. Wanda gave a brief nod to the other woman before settling at the end of the furred bedding. Her voice was low, measured—familiar.

“You’re in my village,” she said, meeting your gaze. “I brought you here after finding you unconscious.”

You sank onto the furs, still shaky, every muscle tense. Your mind raced, trying to stitch together what had happened. “Unconscious… I… I don’t remember…” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

The unknown woman stayed at the edge of the hut, silent, her eyes calm but unreadable. She didn’t speak, just watched you, like she was letting you take the lead in understanding.

Wanda leaned closer, her hand brushing yours in a quiet gesture meant to reassure. “You got sick in the woods,” she explained softly. “Fever… exhaustion… you weren’t able to make it back. I couldn’t just leave you there.”

You looked up, eyes wide. “I… I don’t know what to say…” Your throat felt tight, your body still trembling.

She takes a leap, reaching and resting her hand over yours for a brief moment and it feels like you've been burnt at her touch. "no need to say anything. you saved me many moons ago. now I get to return the favor."

You stare at her, mouth opening to respond, but before a word escapes, the other woman steps forward again. Wanda’s hand retreats from yours, leaving a lingering warmth behind.

The newcomer has markings along her arms and chest—symbols, intricate and deliberate. Now that you notice them, it strikes you that everything in this hut, everything surrounding you, feels grounded, earthy, far removed from the world you knew in the city.

She kneels beside the mat with an exasperated huff. “Can’t wait forever, Wanda. I need to give more,” she says, reaching beside her for jars of oils and herbs.

Seeing your hesitation, her eyes narrow slightly, and she tilts her head toward you. “Nuh-uh. None of that,” she chides gently but firmly. “This heals you. You want to be healed, yes? Then sit still.”

Her hands hovered over the supplies for a moment, waiting for your compliance. Her presence was commanding, yet strangely grounding. Once finished, she gathered her things and slipped out of the hut without another word. Wanda looked down at you. She had never been one for words, or long stories—but now her eyes carried weight, a heaviness that made your chest tighten. Something about her unsettled you, though you couldn’t name it.

“Wanda…” you began, but she didn’t pause.

“I’ll be back later to check on you. Rest,” she said softly, and then she was gone.

The crunch of leaves followed her into the distance, leaving you alone in the hut, the lingering warmth of the furs and her presence both comforting and strange.

later that night, you're awaken by the shuffle of leaves nearby. You sit up a little, expecting wanda to walk in, but you realize quick that whoever is walking towards the hut is not her. the steps are too heavy, too slow. as if they're trying to not wake up whoever is in the hut. you reach for the knife in your shoe, but realize it's been taken.

You freeze, every muscle tight, heartbeat hammering in your ears. The figure steps fully into the doorway, their presence filling the hut like a shadow with weight. Their eyes lock on you, unnervingly focused, glinting in the firelight that filters through the frost-covered window.

You stumble back instinctively, hand reaching for nothing—knife gone, mind racing. The air feels thick, charged, every breath catching painfully in your chest.

“Who… who are you?” you croak, voice shaking, barely above a whisper.

No answer. Just that unnerving gaze, and the slow, deliberate shuffle of their boots on the wooden floor. Panic claws at your chest. You stumble toward the door, desperate, the world tilting as adrenaline surges.

“Wanda!” you scream, voice breaking, raw with fear. You burst out into the cold night, lungs burning as you sprint toward the village fire. Shapes gather around it—figures seated, still, eyes wide as they turn to you. The orange glow illuminates their faces, frozen in a mixture of shock and calculation.

Your voice cracks as you gasp, "Someone’s in the hut—someone’s trying to—”

The firelight flickers, and for a moment, everything freezes. The figure that scared you is gone, or perhaps waiting, just beyond the edge of the glow. All you can do is stand there, shivering, heart pounding, as their stares weigh down on you.

The crowd goes quiet in a way that feels wrong. Not shocked-into-silence quiet. Not curious quiet. A different kind—something tight and uncomfortable, like you’ve walked into the middle of a conversation you weren’t supposed to hear. A few of them lean back subtly, as if your presence itself is unsettling. Others stare too intently, assessing you the way someone might assess a threat they don’t want to trigger. The fire crackles, but even that sound seems muted under the collective tension.

You take one step toward the group, trying to find someone—anyone—who isn’t looking at you like a problem. But the instant you move, several heads turn sharply. Someone whispers, “Human,” like the word itself is a curse. Your stomach drops. The cold feels deeper. Before you can speak, a hand wraps around your wrist—not hurting, but firm enough that you stop breathing for a moment.

Wanda. She doesn’t say anything. Just pulls. Hard enough that you have no choice but to stumble after her. The crowd parts, not out of kindness, but caution. You hear someone mutter something low and unhappy, but the wind steals the words before you can catch them.

“Wanda—wait—” you try, but she doesn’t slow, her steps relentless and clipped, snow crunching under her boots in a pace that borders on angry.

The huts blur past. The trees blur. Your breath fogs in frantic bursts. By the time she shoves the door to her hut closed behind you, your legs feel unsteady. The quiet inside is suffocating.

You’re still catching your breath when everything inside you suddenly snaps. “What was that?” you demand, louder than you mean to. “Why did everyone look at me like—like I wasn’t supposed to exist? What… what is happening? Where am I actually, Wanda? Fucking evolution times?"

You hear the panic in your own voice and wince, but you can’t reel it back in now. Not after what just happened. Not after the look on those villagers’ faces.

“Who are they?” you push. “And who are YOU?”

Wanda stands with her back to the door, shoulders tense, breathing a little too fast. Snow melts off her coat and drips onto the floor in slow, uneven taps. Her jaw works once. Twice. Like she’s deciding whether to tell the truth or lie.

When she finally speaks, her voice is low. Controlled. A little frayed around the edges. “They’re not… human,” she says. No embellishment. No drama. Just the plain, blunt truth.

You laugh, eyeing her. Only seeing some of her expression due to the fact her hut is only lit by a single candle. But she cuts you off, stepping forward, her eyes steady and unflinching.

“They’re werewolves,” she says, and the way she says it—almost quiet, almost resigned—makes it feel less like a fantasy and more like a fact you simply hadn’t put together yet.

Your laugh this time comes out sharp and strained, bouncing awkwardly off the wooden walls. It’s not even real humor—just the only reaction your brain can muster when something sounds too far outside the world you know.

“Werewolves,” you repeat, the word tasting ridiculous in your mouth. “God, you’re kidding me? Are you joking? Is this some sort of—what—sick roleplay?”

You watch her carefully, hoping for the smallest hint of a smile, a smirk, even the twitch of her lips that would tell you she’s messing with you. Anything.

But Wanda doesn’t move.

No softening. No irritation. Just this still, careful steadiness that makes your stomach twist. The candlelight flickers over her face—half shadow, half warm glow—carving sharp lines along her cheekbones. Her eyes stay on you, unblinking, unreadable but undeniably serious.

“If I were joking,” she says quietly, “I would’ve laughed before you did.”

You open your mouth, then close it. The room suddenly feels smaller, the air heavier.

“Okay,” you say, hands lifting uselessly, “but that’s not—Wanda, that’s not real. People don’t just turn into wolves. That’s—science would’ve—someone would’ve—”

“Found us?” she finishes. Her head tilts slightly. “Some have tried.”

She steps closer, slow and deliberate, not threatening—just intentional in a way that sends a prickle down your spine.

“Think,” she says. “Think about the night you burned your hand.”

Your breath hitches. You do think about it. How the welt vanished, how she touched you like the pain was hers, how she pulled back smiling like nothing had happened.

“That wasn’t…” You shake your head hard. “That wasn’t shifting into an animal.”

“No,” she agrees softly. “It wasn’t.”

Another step closer. You don’t back away, but your pulse stutters.

“But it was a sign,” she continues. “Of what I am. Of what my people are. Of what our bodies can do. You’ve seen pieces of it already—you just didn’t recognize them.”

Her voice stays level, calm, almost gentle, but nothing about her posture says she’s lying. There’s no waver, no hesitation.

“Wanda, this is insane. You can’t expect me to just… believe this.”

She exhales slowly, the sound barely audible.

“It’s not belief I’m asking for,” she murmurs. “It’s reality. Yours just collided with mine.”

"The fuck do you mean…?"

“I’m the head of this village. And with that comes my… second gender. We call it an alpha.” Her voice is steady, but there’s strain underneath. “Alphas have instincts. Bonds. We have things called mates, and you’re—”

Your heart slams in your chest. Too much. Too fast. You cut her off before she can finish, because you already know where it’s going.

“Prove it,” you whisper, surprising even yourself. "Prove your… this werewolf…"

Your voice isn’t challenging—just exhausted, scared, desperate for something that makes sense.

“You don’t want to see,” she says, almost a warning.

Your breath catches. “Wanda—”

She finally looks away, just for a second, jaw tightening.

“I don’t shift inside a hut,” she says quietly. “It’s dangerous. Confined.”

Your throat goes dry. "Then let's go outside."

The clearing is quiet in a way that feels familiar—too familiar. The same kind of quiet from that first winter she ever knocked on your door. The kind that presses against your ears and makes every small sound sharper, heavier.

The wind moves between the trees, brushing cold fingers across your arms. You wrap them around yourself, more out of instinct than warmth. The single candle inside her hut had been warm, but out here the night seems colder than you remember.

Wanda stands a few feet away. Her breath curls into the air. Her eyes are locked on yours—steady, bracing, as if she’s waiting for you to bolt or step closer or say something she doesn’t want to hear.

You swallow, unable to. There’s too much in your chest. Too much confusion, too much shock, too many pieces of your world shifting under your feet all at once. And then—it happens with no warning. No dramatic sound, no violent flash of movement. One second she’s standing there, boots planted in the snow, eyes steady on yours.

The next, where she stood is now a wolf. Light brown fur, sun-kissed in places that lean toward red. Shoulders broad, posture grounded, head low but eyes still unmistakably hers—green, sharp, watching you with a strange mixture of caution and… apology.

You don’t move. Your mind scrambles for words, but your mouth stays shut. Even your breath feels thin, shallow. You’re not afraid. Not exactly. But the shock hits you in a way you weren’t prepared for—like cold water thrown over your head.

Like reality rearranging itself faster than you can understand. You stare at her. She stares back. A minute passes. Or ten. You can’t tell. And then, without speaking—because you can’t, because you don’t know how to—you turn.

Your boots leave a path. You don’t look back. You walk into the dark because it’s easier than standing there, unraveling.

Wanda doesn’t follow.

That winter, your cabin feels wrong.

Too quiet.

Too still.

Too empty.

There’s no knock at your door. No strong presence just outside your threshold waiting for tea. No soft note left on your table in the morning. No pine-scented breeze when she opens your door just enough to slip inside. No awkward smiles. No laughter muffled behind your hand. No lingering glances that lasted a little too long by the fire.

Nothing.

You don’t realize you’re crying until your vision blurs and your breath shakes. You curl in on yourself on the edge of your bed, the cold finally seeping in after hours of pretending it wasn’t. Your cat butts her head against your leg, confused but insistent in that quiet way animals know when something is wrong. You bury your fingers into her fur just to anchor yourself. The furnace has been out, never turned on since you've gotten back home The cabin is cold enough that you can see your breath again.

You sit in the silence, feeling everything at once—the guilt of walking away without a word, the grief of losing someone you never let yourself admit meant more, the anxiety of knowing she wasn’t just someone. She was… something else entirely. Someone whose world you stepped into without asking, without understanding.

You wipe your face, but tears keep coming, hot and frustrating. You whisper into the cold air, voice cracking—

“I’m sorry.”

But the only response is your cat purring weakly and the wind brushing against the frosted windows. Winter stretches on. And for the first time since you met her, you spend it alone

A few weeks later, it’s January. You’ve been hollow for days—long enough that the ache has settled into something dull but constant. The dreams don’t help. Two, maybe three, where she was close enough to touch. Close enough to make waking up feel like hitting cold water. You’ve thought about going back.

Running, even. But you don’t know where that village is, not really. You don’t know how you got home that night. You just… woke up. Alone. You’re sprawled on your bed with a book you’ve read twice before, trying to disappear into it. The radio crackles on in the background, warning about a snowstorm rolling in later, but you barely hear it.

Then—A knock. Your heart leaps in a way you immediately smother. Wishful thinking. You turn a page you haven’t actually read. Another knock. Sharp. Certain. You’re on your feet before your mind catches up. The cold rushes in when you open the door—and she’s there.

Same snow gear. Same eyes locked on yours, full of a dozen unreadable things. You don’t think. You just reach. Tug her forward, pressing a desperate kiss to the edge of her mask where her mouth would be. It’s reckless, almost pathetic—but she doesn’t hesitate. She acts faster. Surges in with you, one arm already around your waist, steering you both inside. The other reaches back, shutting the door with a solid thud.

Your back bumps the kitchen counter, a quiet thud swallowed by the heat of the moment. Your arms loop around her neck automatically, pulling her closer. You shove the hood off her head, fingers sliding into her hair, and the kiss only deepens—soft gasps, shared breaths, the kind of closeness you’ve been aching for for weeks.

And then she feels it. The warm drops hitting her cheeks. Your tears.

She slows instantly. Her hands shift—one to your waist, one to your back—as she pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against yours. Her eyes soften when she sees your face, your trembling mouth, your fingers curled tight into the front of her jacket like you’re afraid she’ll slip away again.

You press your face into her chest, the words shaking out of you in uneven breaths.

“I’m lost,” you whisper. “And confused. I’ve never… had anything like this before.” Your hands clench in the fabric. “But every second without you feels like I’m dying. I—” Your voice cracks. “I want to try.”

“Then we’ll try,” she murmurs into your hair. “Even if it’s… complicated. It’s unnatural for us to be destined with those of your kind—”

You pull back enough to look at her, a shaky smile edging onto your face. “You mean humans?”

She gives a tiny huff, almost a laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Yes. Humans.”

Then her expression shifts—more serious, more deliberate. She lifts a hand to your jaw, tilting your face toward hers. Her thumb brushes the tear tracks you haven’t wiped away yet.

“It’s not common,” she admits. “It’s not easy.” Her eyes hold yours, steady and unflinching. “But we’re meant to be together for a reason. The moon goddess—”

You groan softly, rolling your watery eyes. “God, there’s so much I apparently need to learn. Moon goddess?”

She pulls back just enough to give you a look—somewhere between offended and exasperated.

“It’s serious,” she says, deadpan.

You almost laugh, the sound half-broken. “I’m sure it is. I just—give me a second to catch up. You’re dropping supernatural deities on me after kissing me senseless.”

Her mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile, but the seriousness doesn’t fade.

“It’s part of us,” she says quietly. “Part of why mates exist at all. I’m not trying to convert you or… whatever humans worry about. I just need you to understand it matters.”

You breathe out, shaky but softer. “Okay. Then teach me.”

In the weeks following, she visits often now, not just one or twice each winter. she brings little gifts as well. A fur blanket, your favorite flowers, a toy for your cat… each time she visits, she presses a gentle kiss against your lips as a greeting and parting.

You leaning up to press a kiss back, smiling. Heart warming each time. Love for her curling around inside you, making you feel like a gross child with her first crush. Waving with a cheesy grin as she walks back towards her home.

You come to learn so much more about her, more than what you knew. What the second genders are, what mates are, why the moon goddess matters, the origins…. it felt surreal, but after some time it become an after thought. She's even shifted at times, the the both of you feeling more and more comfortable with the topic.

She lays against the headboard, your body laying back against her chest. Your hands playing with her fingers, whispered conversations about last weeks inside joke. You laugh as her hands come to tickle at your sides.

Your body jerking about, until you're twisted around, chest to chest with her. You swallow at how close you are, haven't having this kind of intimacy yet. You grow a little nervous, eyes slipping to her lips, revealing your thoughts to her.

Her hands settle at your waist, her face inching closer, that prideful little smile curving her lips—fully aware of the effect she’s having on you. Your breath stutters. Then her mouth meets yours, and she’s guiding the kiss, steady and sure. She shifts you easily, drawing you onto her lap until you’re straddling her thighs.

A few soft kisses blur into something deeper, and suddenly you’re on your back beneath her. Your hands slip under her shirt, fingertips dragging lightly along her back. She shivers. You gasp into her mouth as she keeps kissing you, each one stealing more of your breath. What started sweet is turning warmer, heavier—her eyes darkening the longer your lips meet, the longer you pull each other in.

She breaks the kiss, panting softly against your lips. Her forehead nearly touches yours as she looks at you—your already hazy eyes, your flushed cheeks, the way you’re holding onto her like you’re afraid she might disappear.

“Are you ready?” she whispers. Her voice is the lowest you’ve ever heard it, warm and full and unmistakably wanting—but still careful. Still giving you every chance to breathe. And you do. You breathe. Nothing in you screams to run. You feel steady. Held. Safe.

You nod, your voice a breath against her mouth. “Yes.”

And she's on you, lips trailing down your neck and you keen. Your head falling back against the pillow. Body squirming under her as she kisses down your body, her hands. large and warm slide up your abdomen, up and up and now she's helping you slip your shift off entirely. it falls somewhere on the floor.

Her hand comes to just tug your bra down, breasts spilling out. Lips at your neck, now trail down to your breasts. Your cheeks heated as you shyly gasp at the attention. Your cute sounds, bring an almost cocky smile on her lips. She teases, wrapping her lips around one nipple, watching as you react all the more.

She wants to stretch it out, bring each sound from you. Tease you till you're shaking under her for more, pleading her.

Your pants fall off next, leaving you just in your underwear. Cold air, but with her above you, it's like a heater. You look up at her through your lashes as her eyes rake over your body. She curses under her breath, "my god, you're sculpted perfect." A slight laugh escapes you and she leans in, kissing you yet again. She shuts your little giggles when her fingers drag from the outside of your thigh to slide between your pussy lips.

Two seconds later. Your backs arched, hands clutching at the sheets around you. Moans and gasps escaping you as she rubs her finger on your clit over the cloth of your panties. Wetness seeping through, coloring your underwear two shades darker than its original color. The scent is driving her insane, straining at her pants. Her inner alpha stirs inside her, whispering in her conscious about hot you are. What she should do next. God damn she wants to do it all, but she knows you can only handle so much.

She grips your chin, bringing you to look down at your body. All to watch as she lowers herself. Each hand holding your legs spread. A gasp escapes you before her lips even collide with your cunt. A lick, from the bottom to top. Your hips jerk, clenching around nothing. She shuts her eyes, the smell of you right up against her neck bring her the brink of insanity.

She tears your panties to the side, her tongue now directly on you as she eats you out. Kittenish licks before have now translated to her shoving her tongue right up inside you. To hear and watch you choke on a whine. You're so wet, dripping all over her face, down her lips. She could die a happy woman here, between your thighs.

At the brink of your orgasm, she pulls back. She shushes your whines, leaning her body over yours.

"shh, love. I'm not done. I promise," she whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips.

Her hands make quick work of her own pants, pulling them down. The size of her has you attempting to rub your thighs togther, aroused all over again. She laughs at your willingness, kissing you one more time.

"not yet," she whispers against your lips. "Gotta stretch you out first."

Oh and she makes you a mess. Her fingers, thick, stretch you so well. Pressing and swirling at a pace and spot that brings you to your first orgasm, almost tearing her skin as you drag your nails down her arms. While you're slowly coming back, she licks at her fingers. Savoring your musky scent, eyes darkening all the more.

Your legs are stretched, left wide for her to slot herself between. Wanting to watch your face as she slides her length up and down your cunt, watching as you try to clench around her. Your eyes, glossy, watching her with a sense of lust and love. She leans to nuzzle into your neck, pressing kisses. The moment she starts to press herself in, you're tugging at her hair.

"O-oh…" you murmur, hips rolling around.

Wanda hisses at how tight you grip her, how hot you feel as she sinks into you. "You're perfect," she mumbles against your neck, lips sliding all around your neck. You whimper, impaled under her, squirming your hips, just wanting her to move. Sensing your impatience, she pulls out before pushing back in.

You're hers and she hasn't even marked you as hers yet, but with the way you're taking her? it's enough.

Your porn sounding moaning. Bed squeaking under the both of you. The sounds of your bodies meeting at each thrust. You dripping onto the sheets. Her sweet, sultry murmurs against your skin. Your chests sliding against each other. Eyes locked on each other. Your hands digging at her back, the sheets, the headboard.

Your vision blackens, sight turning into a starry sky as you come down from your high. One you haven't ever reached before. Even after you come down, and she's still pushing into you, you're grinding your hips, seeking more. Pleading, begging.

Then comes a slight stretch with each thrust. It feels as if she's growing, more and more until she's unable to pull out comfortable. She falls atop of you, panting. Her lips find whatever part of your neck is closest, and she bites down. A painful choke of a whimper escapes you.

"Wanda-!"

A rush of feeling, emotion, connection fills you. A feeling that makes you want to cry, but also smile full of joy. She can taste copper on her tongue as she pulls back. The mark bleeding a bit, but it took it's place on the bottom right side of your neck. Already bruising. You look at her incredulously, eyebrows furrowed.

"What… what the hell was that?" you pant.

She looks confused. Her hair a mess from your tugging. She looks down at you, eyes occasionally glancing at where you're both connected.

"I.. I thought we've had this discussion. We've just mated."

Your eyes widen a little, a hand reaching to cup the mark on your neck. "is… is that why I felt emotions a seocnd ago… were those… yours?"

She shrugs, "probably, yeah."

You stare. Speechless. Your pulse is still racing, but the tidal wave of emotion from seconds ago has already thinned into something bearable—like an echo fading down a long hallway. She’s still braced over you, breathing harder than you are. Her pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling as if she’s just run miles. Her hands tremble where they rest on either side of you.

“Did it hit you that hard?” you whisper, stunned by how undone she looks.

She swallows, eyes dragging to your neck, then back to your face. “It’s not supposed to,” she says hoarsely.

You blink. “I thought this was normal for—”

“It is,” she cuts in. “For us.”

A beat. Her voice softens, strained at the edges. “But you’re human. You don’t feel the full hit. Not like I do.”

You freeze. “Wait—so that wasn’t my overload? That was yours?”

Her jaw clenches, and she nods once, almost embarrassed.

“It’s… a lot. The bond forms all at once for my kind. Your everything slams into me—your emotions, your scent, your instincts—like stepping into a storm at full force.” She sucks in a breath as if remembering it. “You only get a fraction of it. A whisper.”

A whisper? Your mind reels, thinking back to the moment: that dizzy burst of warmth, the ache in your chest, the weird joy-laced grief that wasn’t fully yours.

“That was just a whisper?” you breathe.

She huffs a faint, humorless laugh. “Yeah.”

Her eyes flick down to your mouth, then back up. “If you felt what I’m feeling right now, you’d be on the floor.”

You stare at her, stunned into silence. Her hand lifts shakily—shakily—thumb brushing the edge of the mark on your neck. “You don’t feel the pull yet,” she murmurs. “Not fully. It’ll grow. Slowly. Human minds weren’t built to take all of it at once.” She pauses, voice dropping quieter. “My kind… we’re born for it.”

You lift a hand to her wrist, grounding both of you. “Is it… bad? For you?”

Her breath catches. “No. Not bad. Just—” She searches for a word and can’t seem to find one. “Overwhelming. Intense. You came through all at once. Everything I’ve held back for months. Everything I wanted. Everything I feared.”

Your chest tightens. “Wanda…”

She shakes her head, leaning down just enough that her forehead almost touches yours. “It’s worth it,” she whispers. “You’re worth it. I just… need a second to let it settle.”

You nod softly, feeling only the faintest edge of what she’s drowning in. A pulse of warmth. A thrum beneath your ribs. Like a distant heartbeat echoing yours. She exhales shakily, finally letting her forehead rest against yours. For the first time tonight, her body eases—just a fraction—but enough that you feel it. Her weight sinking into the mattress, her hands settling on your waist, no longer trembling. Outside, the wind howls against the cabin walls, snow hammering the windows in harsh, uneven bursts. The storm has settled in for the night, relentless and wild. But here—pressed beneath her, wrapped in her warmth—you feel the opposite.

Stillness. Heat. A quiet connection threading between your bodies, soft and certain.

You slide your arms around her back, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing. She melts into the touch like it’s permission she’s been waiting months for.

“You’re warm,” you murmur.

“So are you,” she answers, voice low, almost reverent.

The snow rages. The wind screams. But in the small space between your heart and hers, everything is calm. You close your eyes, and this time, when her breath brushes your cheek, you don’t flinch or question or pull away. You just hold on.

note - thank you to everyone who's supported me on this journey. I've been in a struggle trying to figure out the direction, but I feel I finally found it. hope you all enjoyed.