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“We meet again.”
The soft, accented voice reverberates slightly in your ears, and you spit onto the cold ground beneath you. Something pulses hotly with anger in your side, and you groan slightly, praying you didn’t crack a rib. A bead of sweat rolls down your temple, sliding over your cheekbone and dripping off your jaw as you suck in a few deep breaths.
This really wasn’t your specialty — the fighting. The white magic that flowed from your fingertips was far better suited to putting things back together.
“I wish it was under better circumstances,” you manage, slowly getting to your feet. Your knee digs into the ground as you stand, your back aching as you raise yourself fully.
There, in the shadows of the room, you see a dark figure. It’s familiar, the silhouette that radiates dark power, the red wisps lazily curling around it rivaling the soft glow your fingertips emit in the dim lighting.
You’re in some sort of church, the pews cracked from your body slamming into them. It’s been long abandoned, the altar sinking into the foundation slightly as the cross hangs crooked above it. Ivy creeps up the wall, the scent of heavy dirt thick as you take a few more breaths, one of your hands lightly pressing against your side to check for broken ribs.
“Aren’t you tired?” Wanda drawls, finally emerging from the shadows. Her irises glow red, her head tilted slightly as she steps forward. Her stance is relaxed, but you see the tight line of her shoulders and the way she positions her body like a cobra, ready to strike at any moment. The red wisps around her move languidly, but you don’t trust them for a moment. You’ve seen what destruction they can bring.
“That’s a subjective question…” you begin, smirking at the way Wanda rolls her eyes. She moves closer, and you hate the way your body twitches with the instinct to back away. It makes you feel like a cornered animal, but the blood pumping wildly through your veins focuses your senses, and magic builds under your skin as you watch her.
Wanda doesn’t seem to notice, her fingers trailing along the smooth wood of one of the pews near the back of the room. She brings a finger up, inspecting it as if the dust of a centuries-old building wasn’t to her standards. “Why do you insist on doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Fighting me,” Wanda says, her voice laced with genuine curiosity. “You know you’ll lose.”
You scoff at the confidence in her voice. She seems so sure of herself. You despise it, the way she radiates arrogance. It practically bleeds out of her, laced with every word she speaks and ingrained in every movement she makes. It makes you want to…
“Makes you want to what?” Wanda asks, her eyes shining at you with that eerie red glow. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you resent the way her lips turn up into a secret smile as if she knows something you don’t.
Fucking mind readers.
“Get out of my head,” you respond, your voice gruff as you shift your weight. You didn’t miss the way Wanda’s eyes tracked your every movement, sharp and focused. Her red eyes lingered around your fingertips, something flickering across her face at the sight of your magic glowing beneath your skin. You couldn’t tell what it was, but it made you wary.
“Make me.”
If you had the energy to growl or curse her, you would have. But, given that you’d just been thrown through a large stained glass window and landed directly on the unforgiving wood of a pew, you just scowled and readied your hands.
“Just fight me already, you know the drill,” you grit out, stretching your neck until it pops, feeling the magic build beneath your skin. Her eyes flick between your hands and your eyes, her own stance becoming more rigid, the scarlet wisps in the air moving with more purpose around her.
“Our usual dance, then?”
You don’t respond to her teasing words, your eyes narrowing as a scarlet tendril whips quickly towards you. She’d been trying to distract you, to catch you off guard. Unfortunately for her, you knew her tricks well.
Countering quickly, you can’t help the wide grin that spreads across your lips as you feel your magic erupt from you. Most would assume that a witch with healing powers couldn’t do much damage, and it delighted you to prove them wrong. After all, being underestimated in addition to the element of surprise was never a bad thing to have.
A large, glowing shield surrounds you, sending bolts of electricity and pure magic back through the tendril that Wanda had thrown at you. She flicks her wrist, annoyance crossing her features as she gathers her magic between her hands. Her silver rings glint as she does, her eyes focused on you.
“I do have one question,” you call out, your voice reverberating around the old, cracked walls around you. The structure shudders as she hurls a ball of magic in your direction. You can feel your hair sticking to the back of your neck as your muscles strain from the exertion of deflecting her powerful blows.
The walls reflect red and white as you both fling bolts and tendrils of pure magic at each other. Her brows are furrowed, her feet moving her around the room as she deflects your attacks and sends her own magic back in retaliation.
One of her wisps grazes your arm, throwing off your attack and forcing you to raise a shield against her sudden onslaught of magic. It batters against the wall of white magic you hold in front of you, and you feel yourself weakening slightly. Fuck.
“You had a question?” She asks, her chest heaving and her words slightly breathy from magical strain.
Smirking, you prepare your next move as you speak, your voice slightly teasing as you ask, “Do you put on eyeliner just for our fights or do you normally prefer to look like a raccoon?”
“Maybe I just want to look good when I pummel your ass into the ground,” she bites out, throwing a flurry of small, needle-like wisps in your direction. Her eyes are focused and bright, her attention solely on you. It’s thrilling and terrifying at the same time.
Dodging the attack, you roll on the cracked concrete beneath you and ignore the dull throb of pain in your side. You stumble slightly as you stand, one of Wanda’s wisps clipping you in the shoulder as you fling your next attack in her direction.
The net-like magic hits her straight on, tangling with her hands as her eyes widen in surprise. You want to say something about her being an amateur, even though you’ve been fighting her for a few months now, losing and winning multiple times, but a sharp stab of pain in your side takes your breath away.
You fall, your lips parted as you desperately gasp for breath, your fingers prodding at your side as you deduce that you definitely have a cracked rib. Wanda struggles with the magical net, your raw power surrounding her for a moment before she throws it off, her fingers tingling from the direct contact with your magic.
Had you been looking at her, you would have seen the conflict on her face, the war behind her eyes as she watched you. Her gaze lingered over your trembling fingers as you gripped the edge of a pew, your knuckles white from effort as you inhaled weakly. Your knees sink slightly into the concrete and exposed dirt, your head bowed and your face tingling from a lack of oxygen as your other hand clutches at your side, fingers glowing weakly as you try to muster enough power to heal yourself.
“If you insist on fighting me,” Wanda begins, blinking as you raise your head to look at her. Your eyes shine, your cheeks flushed from the effort of fighting her, and she falters for a brief moment. “At least make it worth my while.”
Through hazy eyes, you watch her turn, the scarlet magic around her disappearing as you blink in an effort to focus. Anger makes its way through you, sitting heavily in your chest as you process her words. Your head spins, your fingers trembling as you use the last of your energy to mutter a healing spell. The pain slowly subsides as she walks away, her footsteps dampened as your ears begin to ring.
A brief stab of pain causes you to gasp out as your rib snaps back into place, and you can’t tell if Wanda pauses or not, her head turning just enough for you to see the slight outline of her chin. Then, she’s gone, her presence fading from the room as you let your body droop slightly, all of your energy focused on healing your injury.
It takes hours to fully heal, your damp forehead resting against the broken pew as your chest heaves from the effort of using so much magic. You can’t help but smile, remembering the way Wanda’s face had glowed from her scarlet magic, your heart speeding slightly for a moment before you shake your head. The woman had flung you through a window, for fucks sake. It was no use to let your impertinent thoughts linger on her. You quickly shove your thoughts away, exhaling slowly as you stand.
Now all you had to do was make it home without passing out.
—
You can hear soft music playing as the door opens, a man stepping out and shutting it quickly, the warm light from inside fading as he does so. The alleyway you’re in is slightly isolated, the sound of cars only a few blocks away, a single street lamp shining dimly near the street. The music cuts off abruptly, a testament to the soundproofing of the walls. The man steps in front of the door and holds out his hand expectantly.
“Nice to see you, Richard,” you say, pleased at the slight upturn at the corners of his lips. You have to crane your neck up slightly to look at his face, his large frame blocking the door completely. Handing over your ID and membership card, you quickly scan the alleyway, shoving your hands in your pockets. A slight breeze tickles the back of your neck, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched.
Richard grunts in response, checking your ID. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. With how often you frequent this club, you’d expect this process to be a lot shorter.
“How’s your husband?”
Richard looks up at that, handing your ID back to you as a rare smile makes its way onto his face, his tattoo stretching from where it creeps up his neck and meets his cheek. He clears his throat, glancing over your membership card as a formality and giving it back to you.
“His birthday was two days ago,” he says, his voice soft. He crosses his arms, and you notice his muscles flexing through his jacket. His blue eyes look dark in the dim lighting, but you can see the way they crinkle in the corners as he speaks. “We had a nice celebration.”
You smile back at him, marveling at how many words he’d spoken. Richard doesn’t give you much of a chance to respond, turning slightly and opening the door, shuffling back to allow you to walk through the entrance as you squeeze past him.
The door shuts with a solid thud, and you feel yourself relax, the sensation of being watched fading as you take in the familiar surroundings. Warm lamps hang from the ceiling, casting soft shadows on the various individuals scattered across the room. Some sit languidly on couches, while others stand and nurse their drinks. You nod at a couple you recognize, smiling at the excited wave you receive from the young man, his mouth covered by a muzzle as he kneels beside his partner. She tugs gently at his leash, a reminder to behave, and lazily raises a hand in your direction.
Fuck, you need a drink.
Making your way to the bar, you check your watch, noting that you still have about twenty minutes before the main event starts. Typically, you frequented this club for casual sex, loving the power exchanges as you tried different things. You’d heard about this club, The Crimson Crow, from a fellow witch, and loved it ever since.
“The usual?” The bartender asks, polite as ever. You nod, scanning the room as you let the soft jazz music wash over you. The main area was more crowded than usual tonight, the cacophony of voices louder than you were used to. You recognized multiple people, but a majority of the crowd were fresh faces. It made sense, given the nature of tonight's main event.
“Are you excited for the show?”
Turning at the chipper tone, you smile widely, “Agatha, I’m glad you could make it!”
“Wouldn’t miss a scene like this for the world,” she drawls, sliding easily into the spot next to yours, the number of people crowding the bar making it a bit difficult for you to hear her. She looks wonderful, her hair glossy and makeup dark, a sign that she’s in full “Dominatrix Mode”, as you like to call it.
“Where is Rio tonight?” You ask, nodding gratefully at the bartender as he slides your drink over, your fingers circling the rim as you take a sip. You almost moan at the taste, the slightly salty brine from the olives making your dirty martini perfect. He makes a gesture, a signal to ask if you want to start a tab, and you nod and flash him a quick thumbs up, before returning your attention to Agatha.
She takes a lengthy sip of her whiskey, licking her lips before jerking her head towards one of the couches. You follow, your hand clutching her upper arm as she squeezes past the slowly growing crowd. Her coven has saved a spot for her, so you squeeze in next to her, unbothered by the closeness as your thighs touch. Her arm wraps around the back of the couch, and you settle in, tilting your head as she takes another long drink.
“She’ll be here soon,” Agatha finally responds, smiling slightly in your direction before leaning in, “She had to… deal with a situation.”
You nod, chuckling slightly as you share a knowing look. Her eyes linger just a bit too long on your face, and you flush for a moment as you take another sip of your martini. You can feel the glances from her coven. Lilia isn’t even trying to hide her curiosity, and Jen is trying - and failing - to be subtle as she watches from the corner of her eye.
Agatha was one of your closest friends, truly. You’d met at this very club, years ago, the magical powers within you drawing you two together. Agatha had absolutely ravished you, her dominance overpowering and her words wicked in your ear - her fingers and strap had brought you to your climax more times than you could count. You’d enjoyed every second of it, but hadn’t quite felt the genuine romantic connection you were looking for.
Besides, Agatha had met Rio not long after, and those two were inseparable.
You were pretty sure that Agatha was part of a mafia, her coven just a front for their illicit activities. However, if you’d learned one thing over the years, it was to keep your mouth shut and your nose out of other people’s business. Besides, Rio scared the hell out of you, and you’d have run for the hills if you weren’t aware of the tight leash Agatha kept her on. Literally.
“We haven’t had a demonstration for a while,” Agatha notes, seeming to savor her drink as she watches you over the rim. She tilts her head at you, her brows furrowing. “Apparently there’s a new Dominatrix in town, but nobody knows who she is.”
At that, you take a deep breath. New people in town always made you uneasy, your deep-rooted trust issues making themselves known with every new face you encountered. Tonight, you decided to shake it off, ridding yourself of the uneasy feeling that wrapped itself around your shoulders like a cloak. It lingered, refusing to let go.
You took another sip of your drink.
The mindless chatter around you helped, and you nursed your drink as you sat and listened. Agatha did the same, occasionally checking her phone when Rio would text with an update. You didn’t snoop too much, but you got enough information to know that Agatha’s wife would be joining you shortly.
Agatha’s hand never strayed far from you, her fingers strumming on the back of the couch near your head. You felt Rio’s presence before you saw her, a heady sort of scent descending as she came into view. Something about her always triggered your instinct to run, but you simply smiled and nodded at her as she seated herself in Agatha’s lap.
By the time you’d finished your martini, the mass of people gathered in the lounge area had slowly been trickling into the adjacent, larger room. You weren’t particularly worried about finding a seat. Downing the rest of your drink, you set the glass gently on the table before standing and gesturing to Agatha and her coven.
“Ladies, shall we?”
Rio’s eyes sparkled, and she smiled widely at you. It was unnerving, but you simply smiled back as she stood, pulling Agatha with her. The rest of the coven was quick to follow, filing into the next room as you took a few deep breaths and tried to convince yourself that nothing bad was going to happen.
The feeling of being watched hadn’t faded completely, but the slight buzz of alcohol in your system helped you ignore it. For the most part.
Somebody near the stage area of the showroom was giving announcements, reminding everyone that the event would be starting soon as ushers led people to their seats. You nodded at one of them, their eyes lighting up in recognition as they bowed slightly, their arm outstretched towards the front row.
The crowd was murmuring amongst themselves as you walked towards your seat, a buzz of excitement present as the light dimmed slightly, a sort of spotlight appearing in stage. You sat, crossing your legs and focusing your attention. A heavy silence fell on the crowd, the anticipation so thick you could practically taste it.
A young woman walked on stage, smiling at the crowd as they politely cheered, waving as she took her position in the center of the stage. She knelt, her blonde hair reflecting the spotlight slightly as she did so, her only clothing a comfortable-looking pair of underwear. Her hands rested palm-up on her thighs, her back straight, chest out, and chin raised high. She took a deep breath, preparing for the scene and calming any nerves she had.
The crowd fell completely silent, only the rare shuffling of feet and the occasional cough sounding out as they waited. You felt your pulse racing, a sense of slight dread washing over you. You had a sinking feeling in your gut, like you knew who was about to walk out from the wings, and you weren’t sure whether to be frightened or aroused.
You could sense her before you saw her, the scent of vanilla somehow making its way to your nose. The familiar energy of her scarlet wisps cracked in the air around you, even without a visual indication of them. Footsteps sounded out, and you recognized them as the heeled boots she sometimes wore to your fights.
The crowd waited with hushed anticipation and barely concealed excitement, and you scoffed as you sat back, crossing your arms as your magic rose to your fingertips. You could feel Agatha’s eyes on you, observing your body language as the Dominatrix walked on stage.
Wanda Maximoff stepped into the light, an easy smile on her face as she raised a hand to the crowd. A thunderous round of applause erupted, a feeling of excitement washing over the crowd at the new Dominatrix. You remained still, your eyes trailing over her.
You had to admit, she looked good. The eyeliner she normally put on was nowhere to be found, a subtle smokey eye in its place, with just the barest hint of a red lipstick and a slight highlighter dusting her cheeks. It wasn’t enough to cover her freckles, and somehow it made her green eyes pop even more. The red leather jacket she was wearing perfectly accentuated her chest, waist, and hips, her silver rings glinting in the warm lighting.
Green eyes met yours, and her smile morphed into a satisfied smirk as you let a scowl slide across your face. Wanda gave you a once over, before winking and turning her attention to the blonde submissive still kneeling obediently on the stage.
A flash of hot anger ran through you. Who did she think she was?
Cool fingers touch the back of your neck, and you blink, ripping your gaze away from where Wanda was stroking the top of the submissive’s head and meeting Agatha’s gaze. She pointedly glanced down at your hands, and you quickly shoved your glowing fingertips into your pockets, praying that nobody had seen.
“You know her,” Agatha states, her fingers still resting on the back of your neck. The coldness radiating from them helps ground you, your anger slowly dissipating the longer you look at her.
“You could say that,” you grumble, returning your attention to the stage.
The submissive now sits on a stool, her back straight and her eyes locked on Wanda. She’s the embodiment of obedience, her chest slightly red, a sign that she was feeling flushed. You can see her eyes glancing down at Wanda’s figure slightly, her lips turned up in the ghost of a smile.
“Welcome,” Wanda speaks out, projecting her voice slightly. “Tonight, Elenor and I will be sharing with you all a shibari scene. This will not be an educational scene, so please, learn rope safety and attend one of the excellent educational classes this establishment offers before attempting this with your partner.”
She goes on to describe the types of rope she’ll be using, her fingers moving confidently as she talks to the audience. You clench your hands inside your pockets, feeling Agatha’s fingers gently rubbing the back of your neck. It’s soothing, and distracting you from the boiling anger you can feel bubbling in your chest.
You focus on the features of her face. Her high cheekbones glitter with a subtle highlight, her lips reddened as she speaks. You find yourself mesmerised, your attention focused solely on her as she begins to wrap the rope around the blonde submissive. Her fingers stand out, moving confidently, like she’s handled roped for years. You wonder how long she’s been in the BDSM scene, given her knowledge.
She looks young, and you find yourself noticing details about her that you hadn’t seen before. You hadn’t realised how many freckles dusted her cheeks. They were light, covered slightly by her makeup. Her eyes sparkled slightly from the lights as she spoke, glancing between the blonde submissive and the audience as she continued to wrap the ropes securely around her.
Every so often, those green irises would flick over to you.
Your heart thudded each time, a spark of… nervousness? No, it had to be hatred. It must be. Something would course through you with each small glance she sent your way. You watched her notice Agatha’s fingers on the back of your neck, her brow furrowing ever so slightly, a crinkle appearing between them. It made you want to smile, and you wondered if she was jealous.
Wait.
Why the fuck would you care if she was jealous?
A gasp rang out, the blonde girl’s lips parted in surprise as her pupils dilated. Wanda’s fingers were gripping the ropes, pulling her into a crawling position. The ropes formed a pentagram on her chest, her nipples hard and her breasts accented by the beautiful red rope wrapped around her torso. The girl’s eyes were locked on Wanda, her chest heaving slightly as Wanda dragged her forward, forcing her into a slow crawl across the stage.
“As you can see,” Wanda’s voice carries amidst the silence, a note of anticipation from the crowd weighing heavily in the air. “The submissive is able to be led by this design, with no risk of injury to the neck or any major nerves.”
As if to prove her point, she jerks the girl forward quickly, her nose just barely brushing against hers. You see her smirk, and you immediately want to wipe it off. You know exactly what she looks like up close like that, you’ve been in enough fights with her to get in her personal space.
Even now, you could remember every detail about those times. The way her warm breath washes over your lips, her brows furrowed as her eyes bore into yours. The faint scent of vanilla and sweat reaching your nose as her scarlet wisps angrily whipped through the air. Funnily enough, neither of you ever walked away with serious injuries.
You refused to think about why that might be.
Wanda Maximoff was evil. You hated her. That was it. Nothing else.
Green eyes flicker over to you, and you mentally curse. You’d forgotten that she could read minds. You could have sworn you saw a glimpse of hurt reflected in those eyes you knew so well, and your chest ached for a moment. Then, they hardened, the familiar look of hatred and anger seeping back into them before she took a deep breath and returned her attention to the submissive.
“What was that?” Agatha murmurs, her lips close to your ear.
You huff, the jarring motion of your teeth grinding startling you slightly. “A distraction.” You answer, ignoring Agatha’s raised eyebrow, her face a mask of curiosity. She makes a small humming noise, turning her head and watching Wanda.
The rest of the presentation goes by quickly after that, your chest burning and your eyes narrowed as you watch Wanda. At one point, she rolls her sleeves up, revealing a multitude of bracelets adorning her wrists, some made of thin strips of leather and others of dainty silver metal to match her rings. You try not to let your eyes linger for too long, your mind warring with itself as you silently seethe.
The crowd begins to murmur, bodies shifting as the presentation comes to a close. The blonde submissive returns to her previous spot on the stage, kneeling with her palms on her thighs and her chest puffed out proudly. Wanda’s ropes wrap around her, twisting perfectly to accentuate her body, and security moves closer to warn the audience to only look, but not touch. You see Wanda take a small bow, thunderous applause erupting before she slips behind the curtain, the lingering weight of her presence still suffocating you.
“Impressive,” Rio mutters, her hand possessively making its way onto Agatha’s thigh. “We should try that.”
Agatha smirks, finally removing her hand from the back of your neck as she turns her full attention to her wife. You knock back the rest of your martini, already glancing towards the lounge area where the bar awaits. The only thing you wanted to do now was have another drink and flirt with some hot, dominant women.
—
The air is heavy, a musky sort of scent mixed with the sharp tang of alcohol lazily drifting through the air as you lazily run your fingers around the rim of your empty glass. Your fingers gently press into your temple as you rest your head on your hand, your gaze roaming around the room for a moment.
Rio is on top of Agatha’s lap, her head thrown back as those sinfully full, purple-stained lips suck at her skin. You smirk slightly, running your eyes around the filled room once more before returning your attention to the woman in front of you. You had finished your drink half an hour ago, a pleasant buzz sitting beneath your skin as you took in her features.
She was pretty, her thigh pressed against yours as you sat closely on the couch. She was talking slowly, something about her PhD thesis. You only half listened, mostly focused on her red lips and the way her eyeliner formed small, sharp wings. It reminded you of…
“Ma’am?” A voice startled you out of your thoughts, and you flushed slightly. The woman beside you jumped at the intrusion, her eyebrows rising higher at the way the security guard leans down to whisper in your ear.
“Your presence has been requested in one of our private suites,” the man says, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. He gently takes your empty glass, your fingertips easily letting go as you blink at him.
“Oh,” you say, somewhat in a daze. Then, you let your curiosity get the better of you, standing and nodding slightly at Agatha when her eyes catch yours. You mutter a quick goodbye to the woman still seated on the couch, but her attention has already been directed elsewhere, her lips still moving as she begins to chat another woman’s ear off.
Smirking slightly, and shaking your head in amusement, you allow yourself to be led from the room. The back of the man’s hair is slightly shiny, and you stare at it as he leads you into the hallway, the door shutting firmly and muffling most of the noise from the main lounge area.
You’d been back here before, although never to a private suite. There are a multitude of bedrooms, cleaned in between every guest. You’ve fallen into the mattress quite a few times, exploring different parts of your submission and trying new kinks with more women than you could count. They were all dominant, and you enjoyed most of your experiences, but you’d never met with someone elite enough to use a private suite.
Safe to say, your curiosity was piqued.
The atmosphere changed slightly as you followed the security guard further into the club, the warm, dim light in the hallway seeming to stretch forever. The doors grew further apart, signaling that the rooms were getting bigger, and you couldn’t hear the sound of your own footsteps as you padded softly on a thick, plush carpet.
“Room S,” the man says, stepping neatly to the side and gesturing toward the door handle. The bronze lettering stands out against the dark door, the letter S shining dully in the light as you search for something to say.
Nodding once, the man gestures toward the door again before smartly turning on his heel and walking back in the direction you’d come from. You simply blink at him, watching his retreating form for a moment before returning your attention to the door.
You take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you readjust your shirt and run your fingers through your hair. Your fingers wrap around the door handle, the cold metal grounding you as you turn it, silently entering the room.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” a voice drawls, and you freeze as the door shuts behind you. There, on the bed with a leg casually crossed over the other and a rather bored expression on her face, sits Wanda.
White magic fills the room before you can even fully process her presence. Your fingers burn with raw energy, your eyes focused on her as your stance changes. You barely even recognize it as a fighting stance, your mind instinctively shutting down so she won’t be able to read your thoughts.
“Relax,” she says, her accent wrapping around the word. She runs her hand through her hair, tossing it over her shoulder before smoothly standing, tilting her head at you.
It’s then that you realize there are no scarlet tendrils or wisps present. Those green eyes are narrowed, wary slightly as she pointedly glances at your hands. She’s still wearing the same outfit you’d seen earlier, and you feel your brows furrow in slight confusion when she begins to slowly remove her rings.
The metal clangs together as she tosses them into a wooden bowl on the stand near the bed, her movements languid even as you observe the tight line of her shoulders. You lower your hands, reeling your magic back in. You can feel it just beneath the surface of your skin, racing and twisting as it waits for your command.
“What the fuck is going on?”
“Nice outfit,” Wanda remarks, completely ignoring your question. She pulls her bracelets off, dropping them into the bowl before turning to face you. She raises her hands lazily in mock surrender, before slowly stepping toward you. “Too bad I’m going to ruin it by the end of the night.”
You chuckle, watching her as she continues to step closer, your own feet moving backward in response. “It’s not like you haven’t done that before,” you say, remembering all the times she’d ripped through your shirt with her hands, or her scarlet magic had left singes in your pants from where a tendril had wrapped around your leg.
“Ah,” Wanda’s eyes glint slightly, a look in them that you can’t decipher. “I’m going to ruin them in a different way tonight.”
Narrowing your eyes, you open your mouth to question her further, but instead of words, a small gasp escapes you as your back hits the door. Your fingers meet the solid wood, the rough texture molding itself to your back as Wanda steps closer.
She’s walking slowly, as if approaching a cornered animal. Or perhaps, in better terms, like a predator advancing on its trapped prey. You want to run, your mind screaming at you to move, but all you do is stay still, your muscles as tight as a drawn bowstring. The lack of full breaths is making your head spin, and you blame that on the way your eyes glance around her face and settle on her lips.
Wanda’s lips are turned into a small smile, the red stain on them mocking you as your traitorous tongue quickly licks your own lips. You can’t tell what you want, all you know is that the scent of vanilla is engulfing you and you can feel your mind growing fuzzier and Wanda’s green eyes are hot as they rake down your body with intent and her palms are suddenly resting on the door beside your head and her lips are right fucking there and-
Your lips tingle when she presses her own lips against yours. It’s brief, only for a moment, but you feel something inside of you snap as you come to a realization. She pulls back, searching your wide eyes with her own as she waits with bated breath.
“I disliked seeing another woman with her hands on you,” she confesses, the dark look in her eyes warring with confusion as she tilts her head. The action sends a terrifying chill down your spine, but this time its mixed with something warm and electrifying. “It made me want to…” Wanda doesn’t finish the sentence, simply shaking her head as her mouth opens and closes, frustration building on her perfect features.
Fuck.
Your heart pounds as you raise slightly sweaty palms to meet her waist. It’s somehow both hard and soft beneath your fingers, the curve of her body tantalizing as you slowly pull her closer. Her eyes snap up to meet yours, and you feel your body burn as you remember the way she’s pulled that blonde submissive around by the rope she’d so carefully wrapped around her chest and torso.
“I hate you,” the words are murmured, almost directly against Wanda’s lips. They’re true, you do hate her. You hate everything she stands for, a vigilante who destroys whatever she deems as morally corrupt, without thinking of the consequences afterward or the people her actions affect. But, you don’t want anyone else to have her. She’s yours. You’ve fought her enough times to have memorized the way her body moves, the microexpressions on her face telling you everything you need to know about her thoughts, her fingers feeling familiar against your skin.
The burning feeling that started from the moment she walked on stage had only intensified once she touched that blonde submissive. You recognized what it was now. It wasn’t hatred, like you’d originally labeled it as. Rather, it was a deep-rooted, intense feeling of possessiveness. After all, who besides you was a constant in Wanda’s life? You’d done enough research on her to know that she didn’t have a coven, family, or even a regular group of friends around her.
“I hate you too,” Wanda whispers, and in that instant, you know that she feels the same way about you that you feel for her.
No more words need to be said, the energy rippling beneath your skin surging forward as you dig your fingers into her waist and pull her flush against you. Her lips meet yours, a desperate give-and-pull of teeth biting furiously and tongues meeting as your nerves roared at the sensation.
She felt better than you could have ever imagined, your body already used to hers being close by. Normally, her weight would be on top of you or underneath you as you scrabbled desperately for an upper hand. Tonight, however, you felt your body slipping easily into its submissive role, your mind fighting to stay above the fuzzy headspace you knew so well.
“Who is that woman?” Wanda asks you, one hand tangling with your head and yanking your head back as a throaty gasp escapes you. You feel your skull connect with a dull thud against the heavy door, her teeth scraping up the sides of your neck as she waits for a response.
“Which one?”
“The one with her hands all over you,” Wanda snarls, her hand tightening in your hair.
You simply laugh, your hands slipping under her shirt and raking down her sides as you lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of her body against yours. Her chest presses against you, and you can feel her breasts move with every heaving breath she takes, her lips sucking dark, possessive marks into your skin. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that, there are lots of women who’ve had their hands all over me.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” Wanda remarks, her voice acidic as she pulls back. Her green eyes search yours, the smokey makeup look only serving to make them stand out even more. You think it’s hot, and you roll your eyes at the smirk that rolls onto her face.
You hated that she could read your thoughts.
“I’m talking about the one with the purple eye makeup and the crazy brown hair with her hand practically glued to the back of your neck during my presentation,” she hisses, bringing her lips close to your ear. You shiver, goosebumps erupting as she licks the shell of your ear. “Ring any bells? Or are you just as empty-headed as you look?”
“I never took you for the jealous type,” you respond, ignoring her question and smiling at the way she pulls back, an offended look on her face. Before she can respond, you surge forward, forcing her to walk backward toward the bed as your lips connect once again.
This time, you let her dominate the kiss, focusing more on removing her red jacket. The leather is slightly cold, and Wanda makes impatient noises as she helps you slide it off her arms, before wrapping her hands around the back of your neck in a eerily similar fashion to Agatha’s. Her fingers dig in, and you can’t suppress the whine that escapes you.
Wanda eagerly swallows the noise, her teeth biting down on your bottom lip before she harshly sucks it between her own. She releases it with a pop, her eyes intent as she looks at you. Your fingers pause briefly from where they’re pulling up her shirt, and she allows you to remove it before her hands return to your neck, one of them wrapping loosely around it.
“I’m not jealous, I simply don’t want another woman touching what’s mine,” Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright with need and something darker that you don’t really want to try and understand in this moment.
“Oh, I’m yours, am I?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” You pull back, allowing her to remove your shirt. Her fingernails scrape lightly against your sides as she does so, and you resent the wave of arousal that shoots through you at the sensation. “In that case, I suppose you’re mine as well, then.”
“We’ve always belonged to each other,” Wanda states, as though it's a fact. Although, you suppose, it is a fact. You don’t get the chance to respond before her hands grip you firmly and twirl you around, the back of your knees hitting the mattress.
With a smirk, Wanda presses a hand against your sternum and shoves you.
The air in your lungs escapes all at once as your back hits the mattress, and you feel Wanda’s deft fingers easily undoing your belt and sliding your pants down your legs. True to her word, something rips as she does so, but she pays it no mind. You don’t even have the capacity to feel ashamed or upset about it. The only thing you feel is intense, hot arousal and a lingering sense of anger. It feels almost like an echo now, but it fuels you enough to reach up and grab Wanda by the straps of her bra, bringing her body down against yours.
A scuffle ensues, one that leaves you breathless with your head near the headboard, your hair sticking slightly to your damp forehead. The brief battle for control ends with Wanda’s hands firmly wrapped around your wrists as she pins you to the mattress, her thighs squeezing your hips as she holds you in place. Her pants were lost in the struggle, the two of you observing each other with your chests heaving and lingerie somehow still fully intact.
The milky expanse of her smooth skin takes your breath away all over again, and you moan when she dips her head and runs her tongue over your collarbones. Your arousal is burning you from the inside out, your skin flushed and nerves racing with electricity. The magic beneath your skin glows slightly, and you pretend not to notice Wanda’s soft sound of awe.
“Fuck me,” you say, your tone urgent. “I need your fingers, your mouth… anything. But I need it now, Wanda.”
Those green eyes light up, and she pretends to think, ignoring your rising annoyance. “Hmm,” she pulls at the strap of your bra with her teeth, letting it snap back against your skin. You flinch, the pain sending a wave of arousal through you. “Why don’t you beg for it.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” Wanda’s eyes are hard, a cold expression in them as she pulls back. Her scarlet magic appears, a tendril quickly wrapping around your wrists and pulling them toward the headboard, restraining you. She pulls back, biting her bottom lip as she traces those long fingers against the fabric of your bra. “Beg.”
Bucking your hips, you attempt to throw her off, frustration building when the movement only causes her pelvis to grind harder against yours. Even more infuriating is the smirk that slides across her face, her fingers twisting as her magic wraps around your bra, the scarlet wisps contrasting perfectly with your skin.
Feeling the slight burn and tingle of her magic as it rolls over your bra and brushes against your sensitive skin, you gasp when it ingrains itself with the fabric and suddenly burns. In the blink of an eye, your bra disappears, your nipples rock-hard and aching to be touched.
Wanda’s fingers glide over your exposed skin, her fingers mere centimeters away from where you need her. Your body craves stimulation, and you feel tears of frustration prick the corners of your eyes as you gaze up at her.
“Please,” you manage, hating how weak you sound. Your voice is the wrong pitch, and it’s all breathy. You never thought you’d actually be asking Wanda Maximoff for anything, much less begging for it, but fuck you needed this.
“You can do better than that,” Wanda states, her tone icy as she looks down at you with what seems like disinterest. You can see right through it. Her pupils are dilated, and her breath keeps catching every time she lets her eyes roam over your flushed face and nude chest. Her fingers slowly cup the underside of your breasts, her thumbs practically brushing over your nipples, and the sudden desire to be touched mixed with anger sweeps over you.
“Fuck you, Wanda. Give me what I want,” you snarl, pulling harshly at the scarlet tendril restraining your hands. White magic spills from your palms, circling the air around you as Wanda throws her head back and laughs. “Please, just… please touch me.”
Green eyes widen as Wanda looks back down at you, her gaze flitting to the white magic surrounding the two of you. Her expression flickers at the realization that your magic isn’t attacking her, but rather just manifesting because of your strong desires and emotions. She smirks, her thumbs finally brushing over your nipples as she says, “That’ll do, I suppose.”
The moan that erupts from you sounds nothing like you. It’s high-pitched and needy, and Wanda’s fingers begin to pinch and roll your nipples. You’ve never had this type of reaction, this burning need for stimulation, and every action she does only stokes the fire building within you.
Wanda wastes no time, quickly descending your body with her hot tongue and deft fingers, peeling your damp underwear away from you and choking back a moan at the taste of you. Her tongue is strong, collecting your arousal and flicking over your protruding clit as your hips thrust against her face. Her fingers grip your hips, holding you down and leaving faint bruises from the effort.
She loves that she’s getting to see you like this, a burning sort of jealousy rising with the obsessive possessiveness she already feels towards you. There’s a reason why she keeps finding you, or letting you find her only to end the interaction with a fight. You’re hers, and you have been since the moment she laid eyes on you. How disappointing it was that you continued to fight her.
Smirking, Wanda let her lips create suction over your clit, pulling it between her teeth and gently circling her tongue around it while your soft pleas turned into incoherent babbles as you felt your orgasm rise. She removes one of her hands from your hips, collecting your arousal on her fingertips before smoothly sliding two fingers deep inside you.
“That’s right,” she says, watching you with glinting eyes, a scarlet hue glowing slightly as she scans your surface thoughts, sensing your orgasm is near. “Take my fingers like the desperate slut that you are. I bet you’d let anyone fuck you, isn’t that right?”
You can’t comprehend what she’s saying, but you nod anyway, whines sounding out as your lips tremble. You’ve never been this aroused, and the quickly rising orgasm threatens to tear through you at any moment.
“Not anymore,” Wanda mutters, curling her fingers while her thumb begins to move quickly and firmly against your clit, your moans cutting off as your body is wracked with pleasure. “Only I get to have you like this. I’m the only one who gets to touch you, that’s the way it always should have been. God, you’re so fucking infuriating. Always on a moral high ground and goading me into fighting. I fucking hate you and your perfect smile and your raw power that makes my skin tingle whenever you get too close. And don’t even get me started on how pathetic you look after I’ve beaten you, your eyes all glazed and your face flushed.”
Wanda suddenly changes positions, her face hovering right over yours as she continues to pump her fingers in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. “Only I should be able to see you like that. And so far, only I have.” She chuckles at your slightly confused expression.
“How many bad guys have you fought in the last two years?” Wanda asks, her voice slightly condescending, as if she was asking a child a simple question.
“Uh… you.” Those are the only words you can manage, your brain trying to think of any others, but the blinding pleasure forcing its way through your body scatters your thoughts every time you manage to gather them.
“That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said all night,” Wanda remarks, a biting tone in her voice. “Well done. And who do you think was keeping all the other bad guys away from you?”
“You,” the words are whispered as the realization hits you.
Wanda smiles at you, a dangerous edge to it. “Exactly. Because you’re mine. Even though I fucking hate you, and I’ll fight you until you finally admit defeat and stop ruining all my plans, you belong to me. Is that clear?”
You shake your head, disbelief showing on your face, even as your lips part in pleasure. Your mind is warring with itself again, her words sinking in even as your orgasm draws close, your body close to falling over the edge. It burns within you, your muscles tensing in anticipation as you shudder and tremble beneath her.
“Say it and I’ll let you cum,” Wanda says, her voice sickly sweet. Bending down, she brushes her lips against yours, keeping the same steady rhythm as she fucks you with talented fingers. You want to kiss her and shove her away at the same time. It’s a trap, but at this point, you’d do anything to cum. And she knows it.
“I’m yours,” you whisper.
Scarlet magic glows for a moment, something ancient and binding swirling through the air that neither of you fully understand, but you don’t quite care. Wanda’s smile turns triumphant, her fingers finally coaxing you over the edge as her other hand wraps loosely around your throat. Her green eyes glint, something dark behind them as she murmurs, “That’s right, you’re mine.”
The pleasure that consumes you is blinding, your vision covered in white spots, a scarlet wisp dancing across your vision as your muscles seize from the force of your orgasm. You can feel Wanda’s fingers coaxing every last drop of pleasure from you, a bead of sweat dripping down your neck only to be licked up by a warm tongue. Your ears ring, your magic seeping out of every pore and wrapping around both you and Wanda, the scorching raw power making your skin feel as though it had been rubbed raw.
It’s utterly intoxicating.
By the time you can see and breathe properly again, Wanda is already licking her fingers clean, moaning softly at the taste. The sight could have brought you over the edge again, but your body protests, relaxing fully as you finally feel her scarlet restraints fade, your arms feeling like jelly as you bring your arms away from the headboard.
“Admit it, I’m the best you’ve ever had,” Wanda says, smirking at you while you catch your breath. Her eyes roam down your slightly sweaty body, her fingers twitching at the sight of your juices smeared over your inner thighs and dripping down onto the sheet.
“Fuck you.”
“Hmm,” Wanda shoots you a look, “Maybe next time.”
You roll your eyes, dropping your head back onto the pillow as Wanda moves around near the foot of the bed. Normally, you’d be concerned about her movements, watching her and anticipating her next move, but you’d just had the best orgasm of your entire life. You were in no condition to properly observe her.
“The best orgasm of your life?” Wanda’s voice sounds out, and you raise your head to look at her. Your eyes widen, blinking slightly as you glance between her serious expression and the large scarlet strap she’s holding. She smirks, “We’ve only just started.”
—
You’d promised yourself that it wouldn’t happen again. You’d scoffed when Wanda had said, “Same time next week, then?”
She hadn’t really expected you to show up, not that week at least. But you had. Honestly, how could you not? You’d seen her on the news, fighting some random superhero and easily blasting him into a building. The wave of jealousy that had washed over you was too intense to ignore, and you couldn’t help but meet her again.
You didn’t want anyone else fighting her, it suddenly felt too intimate. You didn’t want anyone else to learn her tells, or how she fought. No, that was reserved solely for you. Besides, it turns out that she was really fucking good at being a dominatrix.
At The Crimson Crow, in private suite S, the two of you didn’t fight. It turned into a sort of safe haven, an area with an unspoken truce. You both needed something from each other, something only the other could give you, The entire world knew of your animosity, of your epic fights with contrasting white and scarlet magic, and the destruction you left behind after a battle. It felt good to have something that the world didn’t know about.
Wanda Maximoff hated you, and you hated her right back. But she was yours, and you were hers. And that was enough.