you are in love | wandanat

see whats under that attitude ౨ৎ

The bed had been abandoned when you finally came to consciousness. The room was dark, the blinds drawn over the windows and blocking out sunlight, but the peaks of gold that kissed the trim around the windowsill was enough to gauge how late in the morning it was. The first sensation that crossed your mind was the lingering ache on the skin where Wanda's had unforgivingly struck you half a hundred times, the second sensation that registered was the soft throb in your core that had been left unsatisfied hours earlier. A quiet whine rolled past your lips, filling the silent room with sound that was left unanswered. Your head still felt like it was filled with cotton, thoughts still hazy and disoriented.

Leaving the bedroom behind was a decision made lightly, but the absence of blankets over your shoulders felt like the cruelest punishment as you descended toward the living room. Wanda didn't work in the office on Friday's, or at least she tried not to most weeks. Typical Friday's were spent in quiet company, if Natasha's stories proved truthful, but the few times you'd spent the day in Westview had come with silence from the redhead who spent hours holed up in her office. It hadn't occurred to you then that she busied herself to avoid you, but with the only indication of her presence in the house coming from the laugh track behind some old eighties sitcom, you realized this was more typical of her routine.

Your footsteps were soft; careful and easy. It wasn't intentional, nothing felt intentional in this state, but the sweetness of your mood could not be pushed further than soft taps of naked skin and quiet hums that tried to be words but fell flat. Wanda's head craned in the direction of the stairs when she'd first heard the door creak on its hinges, counting down the seconds until you came into view. It was late, late enough for breakfast to have been eaten and dishes to have been washed, but even one glimpse at you could tell that you were still beneath the confines of subspace. She wasn't surprised, slightly concerned, but not entirely surprised. She had pushed you farther than anyone ever had last night, careful of boundaries that had been set but still firm with her hand and treatment. She had forced you into submission in a manner that was unkind and dominant, she was not expecting you to stumble down the stairs in a clear state of mind, but the sight of your naked chest still bare of a shirt indicated just how far deep you were.

"Hi, sweetheart." She smiled at you warmly, and you frowned in confusion when she didn't incline her head toward the couch. You needed her to tell you what to do, wanted her to keep her grip on the reins and hold them tightly. Sensing your distress at this new sense of control, Wanda frowned realizing that her soft approach would not work you through this limbo. "Come here, baby." The permission to approach that you had been waiting for finally came, and your feet that wouldn't carry you forward without it started to move toward her again.

You stood in front of her with a silent question in mind, but Wanda was not willing to budge without the presence of your words. She needed to get you up, and coddling you was only a recipe for disaster. "Is there something you need, sweetheart?" Her approach was gentle, yet firm. Any harder and she would find the opposite effect of what she intended.

You nodded pleadingly, fingers coming up to sit in your mouth the same way hers had been last night. The sensation wasn't the same, not even close, and that seemed to be too much to handle at this moment because tears that Wanda would deem 'crocodile tears' glimmered in your eyes. Even as your reserve crumbled, fingers falling back down to your sides and curling into the soft cotton of Natasha's sleep shorts, she didn't waver.

"Words, honey. I know you know how to use them. You used them very well last night." Wanda tutted, shaking her head at your behavior dismissively. Your mouth opened and closed as you shifted through the haze in your thoughts attempting to string together a coherent sentence that articulated your wants to her.

When no more than a single word came to mind, you decided that had to be good enough, and nimbly you forced it past your chapped lips and into the space between your bodies, hoping it was loud enough to reach her ears, "Hold."