Work Text:
It had been two years since you found Wanda—broken, all messed up, empty—in the middle of the woods as you were finding wood for a campfire you were making during an overnight stay at the forest. The woman had claimed before, explaining that her powers had somewhat automatically teleported her to a safe place after she made the hard walls of the Darkhold Castle fall upon her miserable state at the time.
In pity, you took her in. As the world believed that the infamous Scarlet Witch had supposedly died after wreaking havoc, she was just actually being taken care of under your company—making sure she got whatever she needed to improve her overall well-being. Now, she lived properly—happily, even—with you, taking care of her, as you worked as a librarian as well.
You lived in an apartment building that fit well with just the both of you. Despite that, she's still and will always be content and grateful with the new life that you gave her. The chance of living the peaceful life she had always yearned for, even though it wasn't with her boys and Vision. And although she still had random outbursts from time to time—due to the Darkhold's effect lingering within her—it never bothered you, knowing she'd never do anything that would hurt you.
Currently, Wanda sat in the living room, all relaxed, as a sitcom played on the television you owned. You were in the kitchen instead, cooking—or rather, attempting—Wanda's favorite meal. She always teases you about it, saying that she's still the better cook between you two. But your efforts have always endeared her, not failing to make her heart swell every time.
In another attempt to perfect it—and to make your girlfriend smile, of course—you put your utmost effort on the food you were making. Because of this, you hadn't even noticed that Wanda had already stood up, quietly making her way towards you.
“Detka,” Wanda spoke as she neared, wrapping her arms around your middle, her voice purposely raspy. Due to the sudden change in her tone, a shiver ran down your spine as you angled your head toward her.
“Wanda,” you breathed, heart still reeling. “It's you. I thought you were still watching.”
At your reaction, Wanda felt a sense of smugness. You really were easy to rile up. She let out a chuckle, leaning down to press her face against your neck and left a lingering kiss. “Is it bad that I wanted to see my girlfriend attempt to cook?” she answered, her warm breath felt against your skin.
You wriggled in her embrace and shot her a half-hearted glare, which caused amused laughter to erupt from the woman behind you. She tightened her hold even more, lowering your chances of escape.
“Wanda,” you whined, tapping her arms which had no intention of letting go. “I'm trying to cook here, you know,” you grumbled softly, a pout tugging on your lips as you complained.
Unrepentant, Wanda didn't answer, still clinging to you like a koala. Her lips had decided to press kisses that felt heated all over your nape, her tongue occasionally darting out to wet the skin there. “Moya devushka,” she murmured, her voice dropping octaves lower—turning authoritative, “don't move. Cooking can continue later.”
Despite yourself, you found yourself nodding and complying to her words. “Okay,” you mumbled. You stayed rooted on the spot, letting your girlfriend ravish and put her attention to your neck. From the minutes that went by, it had only been the sounds of her wet kisses, and the soft sighs that escaped your lips whenever Wanda bit down just right—leaving her mark on your neck.
Eventually, her hands wandered down and settled on your hips, turning you around. From this position, you were now facing her, having to look up just to meet her gaze. Her pupils were blown, the green in them not visible at all, making your cheeks flush. If looks could kill, you probably would've died already. Not from harm, but from the intensity of it.
She has had abrupt outbursts, alright. Sometimes, she went on random rampages, having to spend the day alone in the middle of nowhere, only to come back when she had calmed down. Occasionally, she'd actually relent to your pleading, as you begged for her to stay with you. It usually ends with you being thoroughly spent, having to be the one she unleashes her energy upon. And from where you were currently standing, you were already expecting that Wanda was intending to do just what she usually does.
By that counter, she was still holding onto your hips, although it was a little tighter than the one earlier. She was still mapping out your neck, claiming you as hers. She wanted everyone to know that you were hers and hers alone. At the same time, her hips were rocking against yours, making your body sag at the sensations, your clit throbbing—setting the nerves alight.
“God,” you sighed, instinctively tilting your head back. You felt Wanda groan against your skin—a sound of satisfaction—as you bared your neck for her, letting her leave more love bites. “You like that, hm?” she murmured against your neck, pulling back just enough to look down at you with lust-filled eyes. “You like it when I make you feel good, baby? Say it.”
One of her hands glided up, cradling your jaw. Her touch was gentle despite her earlier ministrations that were rougher than you had expected. “Yes,” you confirmed, your voice not louder than a soft hush. “I like it, Wanda.”
A growl rumbled from her throat, and she pressed her body harder against you—if that was even possible. You leaned up, insistently pressing your mouth against her own for a kiss you had so desperately wanted, and Wanda didn't hesitate to reciprocate it.
Her kisses were hungry, not holding back even as her tongue slid into your warmth, memorizing every space and inch; while her hand that had been on your face tangled into your hair, grasping the silky strands. You gasped at the overwhelming feeling, making her delve deeper, reducing your thoughts into a fuzzy and submissive mess that struggled to keep up with her movements. Reluctantly, she only pulled away—a thin strand of saliva connecting your lips—when the both of you were practically gasping for air.
“You're so easy,” she spoke gruffly, eyes locked with yours as your chest heaved. “All I have to do is give you a few little bites and kisses, and you're melting for me, malyshka.”
A pitiful whimper came from your lips as you practically pleaded for her, only noticing now that your hips had already been rubbing against her thigh. A cruel smirk appeared on Wanda's face, deliberately pressing her thigh through your clothed sex, just to make it worse. “Use your words, detka,” she demanded, her voice deceptively soft. “Be a good girl and tell Mommy what you want.”
You nodded, lips parting into a silent moan when she pressed herself just right, making the seam of your pants brush and rub against your sensitive heat. Amidst your spiraling thoughts, you were sure that a damp patch had already formed on your underwear. If this went on, if Wanda decided to keep teasing you, your slick might just seep through—revealing you're nothing but soaked for her.
“Please,” you begged, voice dripping with helplessness. “Please, Mommy. Touch me.”
“Touch you?” Wanda mused, her tone nothing but condescending as she repeated your words. “Where, printsessa? I think you should be more specific, no?”
You continued to ride her like a moldable doll, the hard muscles of her thighs the only thing giving you relief. The words had already long died on your throat, and with Wanda playing you like an instrument, you felt humiliated. But you craved it just as much.
“Can't even think, can you, detka?” she scoffed, grinning at you mockingly. “Your pretty little brain just short-circuits the moment I touch you like this, doesn't it? You need someone else to think for you. You need me—need Mommy.” She eventually untangles herself from you, making you whine pathetically at the loss. She simply clicks her tongue in a disapproving manner as a response.
“None of that,” she grumbled. “I want you to be a good girl and head over to our bedroom. Strip yourself but leave your panties on, and position yourself on all fours in the middle of the mattress. Is that clear, malyshka?”
“Yes, Mommy,” you whispered, looking up at her with a miserable look.
Pleased, Wanda nodded and patted your head. “Good girl,” she praised, before fully stepping back to give you the space you needed to follow her instructions. Her eyes followed your form as you did indeed head toward your shared room, closing the door behind you with a gentle click.
This day was going to be long—both for you and Wanda.