Title: my knees are bruised.
Fandom: Wandavision (MCU). Sort of X-Men.
Characters: Pietro/Wanda/Pietro. Wanda, Pietro, Peter.
Prompt: Amnesty - Fight.
Rating: Explicit.
Length: 1963.
Content warnings: Spoilers for Wandavision, primarily episodes 1x05 and 1x06. This is an AU. References to mind control, incest.
Author’s notes: I have named the other Pietro "Peter" in this just for the sake of not getting so confused as to Which Pietro Are We Talking About, peaked? Title is from Charlotte Lawrence’s "Joke’s On You".
Summary: Wanda reminds both Pietros that they’re hers.


"Can you please stop complaining?" Her accent’s butchered, unsure of whether it wants to be a Sokovian heavy or a light American. She stands in her bedroom, arms crossed against her chest as she glares at the two men.

Pietro and Pietro. One is the boy she had known her entire life and the other is someone who had previously been a ghost. It’s difficult to think of him as a poltergeist when being wrapped in his arms has given her more comfort in the past year than being trapped within the vice of her own grip.

Westview has given her the gift of a family. She stands in her summer dress, hair straight and her makeup plain. Her feet are bare and a little red from the pumps she’s been wearing all day.

All she can hear is Mine Mine Mine Mine Mine.

Rubbing her temples, she steps inside of her room and closes the door with a gentle press of red magic. "You are giving me a headache."

"You heard the lady," not-Pietro says in his American accent, pointing towards Pietro. "Stop complaining." He stands shirtless, hair messy on his head. It’s almost like he’s stuck it up into two wings once more.

Wanda steps inside of her room, easily gliding over towards her small desk littered with makeup tubes. The small square mirror reflects a pretty picture of her two boys standing behind her in the distance. American Pietro comes to stand behind her in front of the vanity, big hands on her shoulders as he digs his fingers into her tense bones.

"My ears work perfectly," Pietro says. In the reflection, she can see the firm sharpness of his frown. He stares angrily at the back of the other Pietro, thick arms crossed against his clothed chest. "It is you who does not work here. Get out."

The Pietro behind her lifts his elbows and digs his hands firmly into her shoulders. Wanda closes her eyes and lets out a little moan. He leans close to her, breath warm against the side of her neck. "Do you want me to get out?"

Shaking her head, she licks her lips and tastes her cherry lipstick.

"See?" He barks proudly. His American accent has become a staple in her house. He insists she call him the Anglicised version of his name but she refuses. He is her Pietro; he has become one so embedded deep within her. "She wants me to stay."

Pietro scoffs. "Wanda, tell him to go."

Opening her eyes, she turns in Peter’s arms, his fingers still kneading her skin. "If you two can’t behave," she says in her American accent, voice light and airy, "then I will send you both outside, lock the door, and ensure you can hear how much fun I’m having on my own."

Pietro presses his lips together angrily. Peter behind her merely smiles, cooing gently as he pushes his fingers deep into her shoulders. She closes her eyes again, humming.

"The noises in my head are less loud now."

"You have a headache?" Pietro’s quick to step in front of her, trying to brush Peter’s hands off her shoulders.

Wanda bites her bottom lip and thinks to tell them that she had moved the headache she had earlier out of her mind. But when she opens her eyes and sees how they’re looking at her, she lets her lips curve downward and nods.

"If you boys don’t do as I say, it’ll only get worse." With a point of her index finger, she sends little tendrils of red fluttering through the air and taps the bedspread. "Sit."

Peter’s reluctant to let go of her shoulders. Pietro sits on the bed first, legs spread wide, hands planting on the bedsheets as he tries to take up a lot of room. Peter sits beside him, uncaring that her brother’s trying to make himself appear bigger.

Wanda’s hands disappear behind her back as she unzips her dress. Pulling the teeth down to the small of her back, she lets the dress drop. Hooking her fingers into the waistband of her panties, she steps out of them, leaving them piled messily on the floor.

Standing before them naked, she plants her hands on her hips and smirks at how their eyes grow dark. They remain pinned to her, Peter’s eyes resting on her breasts while Pietro’s blue gaze grows darker at the hair between her legs. Wanda barely feels shy, standing taller as she leeches power from the two of them.

"You two are wearing entirely too many clothes." With a snap of her fingers, red magic winds its way around the two of them. She pulls their clothes free, leaving them in nothing but their briefs.

Walking around them, she kneels on the bed and begins to crawl her way up to the headboard.

Long fingers hook around her ankles and tug her back against the bed. "Hey, hey, hey, come back here," says Peter, American accent thick and warm. She lets him drag her back and widens her legs as he sits between them. His hands are possessive on her hipbones, fingertips warm and buzzing with kinetic energy. Her knees are padded softly against the sheets.

The bed dips as Pietro clambers onto it and shuffles over towards her head. His hands are gentle in her hair as he cards his fingers through it, his gaze stuck on her. He doesn’t look back at the boy who’s running his fingers along the curve of her thigh.

Peter’s hands slide around her belly and pull her up; she presses her back against his chest, stretching against him as his hands cup her breasts. Pietro shuffles to kneel in front of her, hands on his hips for a moment before he decides to reach out and plant them on her bare ones.

With Pietro at her front and Peter at her back, Wanda leans against the two of them. At the touch of her fingertips, she lets her magic warm as it crawls onto their skins and slips into their muscles and veins. She can feel herself enter them as Pietro pulls at the small of her back with his palm and Peter’s hand firmly cups her breast.

"You will give me what I want, yes?" She peers up at Pietro and watches as his blue eyes flash red. She doesn’t need to look over her shoulder to know Peter’s warm eyes glow red, too.

Pietro’s mouth is warm against hers, soft and gentle like his hands on her hips. Peter’s hands are rough and almost unpracticed despite the long year they’ve spent together. His thumbs brush over her nipples, leading her to gasp against Pietro’s mouth.

Taking her bottom lip between his teeth, she thinks he’s trying to mark her with the indent of each tooth. Wanda hardly cares. Tasting blood in her mouth is hardly the worst pain she’s endured.

She keeps herself split, placing a hand on each boy’s thigh. Her magic circles around them, wrapping them up in thick, warm vines. She can feel the similarities and differences of their kinetic speed hum through their bodies. Pietro’s is sharp and thick on her tongue while Peter’s is softer.

Pietro’s mouth marks her neck as Peter’s teeth graze her shoulder. Her fingers pick at the fabric of their hips and she imagines—and feels—the fabric glide right off their skin like water. Touching newly bared skin beneath her fingertips, she kisses red magic into their bones, feeling it intermingle with the kinetic force that they both share.

Wanda makes it so that she’s slick enough to take them both inside of her cunt. She presses against Pietro, feels Pietro’s hands grip at her back and Pietro’s hands on her hips. All she feels is Pietro: safe, warm, in control, whole.

His chest presses against her front and his chest presses against her back. Their hands sit on her hips and waist as she reaches a hand back to press against one hip and reaches forward to slide her hand through thick hair.

Peter’s warm mouth burns her shoulder as he kisses and nips at her skin. Pietro’s mouth is gentle against the underside of her jaw as he nips his way towards the skin beneath her ear. All Wanda can feel is them. She breathes hard, lifting herself up slightly and pushing both their hips forward with a little flex of her glowing red fingers.

She keeps pushing against them, making their hips fuck up into her. She shifts her weight and leans against Pietro as Peter’s hands take hold of her hips.

Bowing her head, she leans forward and licks at Pietro’s muscular shoulder. He moans, swearing in Sokovian. She laughs softly against his skin and listens to Peter’s heavy breathing and the sharps sounds of skin against skin. She feels them both tug at her, their minds trying to pull her to one side. Their hands are possessive against her body as Peter pulls her back and Pietro tugs her forward.

She lets her magic slip from her fingers and seep into them. Her heart races, tying them all together. She feels what they feel, the intensity of their love and possessiveness for her sends her rocketing back into Peter’s arms. His hands knead her hips as he pushes up into her.

Peter comes first, slicking up her inner thighs as he shallowly embeds himself inside of her. His hands slide up her belly and torso to cup her breasts, fingers possessive as he pinches her nipples.

Wanda moans, murmuring, "Pietro." His mouth is hot against her shoulder as he licks at her neck, tugging the lobe of her ear with his teeth.

Pietro fucks into her harder, his hands on the small of her back leaving imprints of his fingertips against her skin. His mind burns hot, his body scorching her own. His hands slide down to her ass and pick her up to pull her firmly against him. Peter’s cock slips away from her, but she hardly cares with his hands on her breasts and his mouth leaving a bruise on her neck.

She jolts against Pietro when he fingers her ass, his hips pummelling into hers. When he comes, it’s with a Sokovian swear that sounds like a prayer. His mouth falls against her bare shoulder, his hands pulling her towards him as he hugs her against his chest.

Peter’s hands slide down her belly to her cunt, fingers brushing into her hair before he fingers her clit. She jolts, feels herself overwhelmed with heat as Pietro continues to finger her ass, his hand trapped between her body and Peter’s.

Wanda bites at Pietro’s shoulder when she comes, sending waves of red smacking against the walls and windows. The bed shakes and creaks, and she can hear Peter’s laughter, soft against her skin as he kisses her shoulders gently.

Panting hard, she sees Pietro’s skin burn red as her magic ignites inside of him. All she feels from the two of them is love, warm and heavy as it blankets her safely. Their thoughts still sing Mine Mine Mine. She pushes into their minds: Yours. Ours.

Wanda remains slumped against Pietro’s chest. His hands glide up and down her back, spreading warmth throughout her.

Sitting up straight, she reaches for both of them, a hand behind Peter’s back and her other hand in Pietro’s hair. She leans against Peter, his mouth sloppy against her ear. Pietro’s mouth is sharp and firm against her jawline as he peppers her soft kisses.

When she speaks, her tone is unwavering; the Sokovian remains firmly embedded in her tongue and throat. "You are both mine."