𝐓𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Deerhybrid!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

❦ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You, from the kindness of your heart, rescue Wanda from Hybrid hunters in an alley a week ago. Took care of her in every way you can, since she's unconscious, and hospitals don't take kindly to them. She's awake now, and not what you expected.

❦ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Cursing, knives, blood, sexual tension, sizeable age gap (W is 38, R is 20), masturbating lol

❦ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

Sometimes, you wonder if you're too trusting for your own good.

Even now, staring at the hybrid woman you'd dragged home, you can't help but question your judgment.

You'd found her half-dead in the alley. A weak deer-like hybrid. She'd been filthy, exhausted, and barely conscious.

So, naturally, you brought her home.

You cleaned her up. Patched her injuries. Let her sleep in your guest room. And this is how she repays you with a knife pressed against your throat.

The moment she'd woken up, panic had flooded her features. Wide, hysterical eyes locked onto yours as if you were the monster in this situation. You understood the fear, really. Waking up in an unfamiliar place couldn't be pleasant.

Still.

Did she really need to threaten your life?

You were helping her, for God's sake.

"Where am I?" the woman demanded breathlessly.

The blade dug slightly deeper into your skin.

Your ears caught the faint growl rumbling in her chest, low and instinctive. Her deer ears were flattened tightly against her head, practically screaming terror. Every muscle in her body looked coiled and ready to spring. She was terrified.

Unfortunately, that didn't make the knife any less sharp.

Maybe this was it.

You wince as the blade threatens to break skin. "My apartment-"

The hybrid's eyes widen as she processes this information. She's in a stranger's apartment, alone with her. Her instincts scream at her to run, to fight, to do something to protect herself. The knife trembles in her hand as she presses it harder against your throat.

The woman's nostrils flare, her deer ears twitching violently at the scent of Soulaan's fear. The knife trembles against the girl's throat. "Why?" she snarls, tail lashing behind her. "Last thing I remember is those hunters' tranq darts." Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, taking in the bandages on her own arms, the clean clothes, the absence of chains.

The blade wavers. A drop of blood beads where it nicks the skin. "Why?" The word cracks like dry wood. Her ears flick upward for half a second before flattening again. The wood floors creak under her shifting weight.

You lick your lips, breathing heavier than you wanted, "W-why what?" You ask gently.

"Why help me?" Her voice cracks like lightning, her deer tail puffing up in agitation. Her grip on the blade tightens as she presses herself against the girl. "Humans don't…" she trails off.

The blade gets dangerously close to cutting deeper, out of pure desperation and fight or flight, you tackle the older woman to the ground, and you both fall, you land on top of the older woman, and the knife clatters somewhere in the bedroom. The hybrid lets out an audible gasp, completely winded.

They scramble on the floor, your knee slots between the woman's legs to stop her from flipping you over. "Calm. Down."

The brunette bucks like a wild thing, her hips jerking upward with a choked gasp when your knee grinds against her. Her ears flatten completely, pupils blown wide - whether from panic or something else, you don't know.

"Fuck you," she spits, but her thrashing loses steam, muscles quivering. Her tail lashes once, twice, then goes still. "Get... off." The demand lacks its earlier venom.

“Are you going to try to hurt me again?” Your knee accidentally presses into the hybrid's core slightly.

Her breath hitches sharply, her back arching off the floor as your knee grinds into her sensitive core. A choked, near-silent, involuntary moan tears from her throat, her legs kicking uselessly against the carpet.

Her eyes roll back for a split second before snapping back to you, dilated pupils swimming with a chaotic mix of fury and humiliation.

"N-No- fuck!"

You glance around the guest room, seeing the knife near the door, and you look back at the hybrid on her back, panting quietly. You slowly get up and grab the knife.

"You know I saved you, right?" You slowly stand, gently dabbing the small cut on your neck, wincing.

The woman lets out a shuddering breath, her shoulders slumping as the adrenaline begins to crash out of her system, leaving only the humiliating aftermath of the heartbeat between her legs. Her ears slowly unpin themselves, twitching nervously as she stares up at you.

"I didn't ask for help."

You, sadly, undoubtedly made a mistake, saving this bitch. "Well, you got it. Not every human is evil," you sigh, adjusting your grey jacket.

Her tail lashes once, ears folding back slightly. "And not every hybrid is grateful," she snaps, but there's no heat behind the words. She's too exhausted, too aroused, too confused to maintain her usual hostility.

"… That's fine. I absolutely could kick you out of my place. I'm sure you'll be fine." She says sarcastically, "Parading in the cold with nothing but the clothes on your back."

"Then fucking do it!" she barks. "I don't need your charity."

Is she serious? Does she not comprehend the gravity of her situation!? You stare at her for a moment, lamely, before slowly shaking your head in incredulity. "Fi-"

The brunette interrupts, "Wait- shit," she groans, pressing her hands to her burning face, demanding relief. "Look... I'm not.." She takes a shaky breath.

"... I'm not saying I don't want to stay. Just stop acting like you're some fucking saint," she mutters, continuing, eyes downcast. "You want something from me. Nobody does shit for free." Her ears twitch, listening for your reaction.

"I wanted to save a life."

Her eyes narrow at your harsh words, her instincts screaming at her to apologize even as her pride refuses to let her back down. She bites her lower lip hard. "Fuck off,"

"Just... fuck off," she repeats, weaker this time, scooting up to the nearby wall, burying her face in her knees.

You sigh, rubbing your face, as if trying to get rid of the resignation you feel. "I'm locking you in here for my safety. Knock on the door when you grow up."

—

Thirty fucking minutes pass.

Wanda doesn't look up, her body trembling slightly with a mix of anger and embarrassment. She hears you rummaging in your home, doing whatever. The door had locked behind you with a harsh click. Alone in the room, she had finally let out a slow breath, trying to regain some control over her scattered thoughts. Why would you help her? You seem so… innocent. To the eye, you seem at least eighteen years younger than her. You should be too wrapped up in your own life to even think about housing another person, yet here she is.

She curls into herself on the floor, knees pulled to her chest. The carpet scratches against her sensitive tail. She hates this - hates the hunters, hates her heat, hates how easily you bested her twice.

But mostly she hates how her body still aches for that warmth between her legs.

"Fucking hell, she groans.

Her eyes roam the guest room, she assumes. It's pretty woodsy, cozy, and warm. She didn't pay any attention to til now. It smells like vanilla and cedar. Unmistakably feminine.

Her hand presses between her thighs, and she winces at the contact. Not enough. Never enough. She whimpers softly, rubbing desperately against her clothed core despite the part of her that knows it's pathetic.

Why did her heat have to start today?

After five more minutes of careful calculation, Wanda slowly rises, glancing at her clothes, they are t hers. For sure. The human scent is everywhere. It's overwhelming.

She's in a simple band tee with loose pajama pants. They're a little small on her, considering the height difference.

She reaches the door and hesitates before knocking once, hard. Then again. One more time, then repeatedly.

God, get her out of this ro-

Your shorter form opens the door. Your eyes meet green. "Done whining?" You ask, with a brow raised.

Wanda's jaw tightens, her deer ears folding back in humiliation. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair disheveled, and she can smell her own arousal in the air between them. She hates how small and vulnerable she must look -hated even more.

"I didn't knock to apologize," she lies, voice cracking. Her tail sways slightly behind her.

"I knocked because-" Shs continues, voice wavering. She can't say it. Her pride won't let her.

Instead, her hips twitch subtly, seeking the friction she wasn't getting earlier. She looks away. "Just... don't lock me in here again," she mumbles pathetically. "It's dark in here."

You notice her very poorly veiled anxiety, and lick your lips. "Don't you have night vision or something?" Your arms cross over your chest.

"It's not the same," Wanda snaps back defensively, ears folding back even more at the implication that she's weak. "I'm not used to being trapped in the dark.

It's fucking unsettling."

"Can I trust you?"

"You can trust that I won't fucking kill you," she snarls back. "That's about as nice as I'm gonna get right now." She shifts her weight between her feet, hips rolling involuntarily.

You roll your eyes as you side-step, Wanda in the doorway, letting the older woman into the hallway of the human's home.

Wanda squeezes past her, trying not to brush against the younger woman's body.

Every movement feels like torture, her core clenching desperately around nothing.

She needs pressure, friction, something.

She stops in the middle of the hallway.

"What?"

You ask, stopping a little behind her.

"Nothing," she bites out, crossing her arms over her chest. Her tail lashes behind her, a clear sign of her agitation.

She's trying to hold herself together, but her heart is making it impossible.

She needs release, and she needs it now.

"Just… j-just give me some space," she growls softly, her voice strained. She walks a few steps down the hallway, her hips swaying more than necessary. Her tail fluffs out some. "Fuck," she whispers to herself.

You walk past the taller woman haphazardly. "The bathrooms are to your left." She gestures to the door.

Wanda doesn't need to be told twice.

She bolts for the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. The moment she's alone, she's pulling at her pants, shoving them down along with panties that aren't hers. She stumbles as she turns on the light.

She sits on the edge of the bathtub, fingers trembling as they hover between her thighs.

Wanda knows it won't feel nearly as good without someone else doing it, but she's desperate.

Her fingers part her folds, sliding through the wetness already gathered there. She hisses softly as she finds her clit, already swollen and sensitive. She starts to rub frantically, hips bucking against her own hand. It's messy, it's desperate, it's not enough - but it's something.

Two fingers push inside her in a sloppy rhythm, her thumb circling her clit roughly. Her breathing comes in short, sharp gasps. Her heat makes everything too intense; every brush of her own fingers feels electric, but it's missing the weight of another body, the heat of another person.

She groans pathetically, her hips rolling desperately. "F-fuck- "

Her free hand grabs onto the edge of the bathtub, knuckles white as she fucks herself with increasing urgency. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes from the frustration and overwhelming need. It's not enough, it's never enough without someone else touching her.

Her hips snap forward, fingers curling inside her as she chases the elusive peak that feels just out of reach. She bites her lip hard to stifle a loud cry, the sound of wet noises filling the small bathroom.

Her tail thrashes behind her, slapping against the tub wall.

She comes in a shuddering gasp, her walls clenching desperately around her fingers. But it's hollow - over too quickly, unsatisfying. She stays propped on the edge of the tub, chest heaving, fingers still buried inside herself as she tries to catch her breath.

She nearly falls in the tub when two soft knocks rap on the door, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she snaps back instantly, voice hoarse and strained. She quickly pulls her fingers out of herself, the sticky sensation making her cringe. She scrambles to pull her pants back up.

Wanda's legs are trembling violently as she stands.

She leans heavily against the sink, trying to wash her hands and steady her breathing simultaneously. "Don't come in here."

"Wasn't going to?"

Wanda splashes cold water on her face, trying to compose herself. Her ears are still flat against her head, tail lashing slowly. She feels hollowed out and raw, her heat still humming in her veins like a second heartbeat. She's never felt so... pathetic. Not even when she was held captive by the hunters, before she escaped.

The bathroom door opens, and Wanda emerges, trying her damndest to look as unaffected as possible. Her steps are slow and unsteady. Also trying her darndest not to lean against a wall after coming on her fingers.

__