Wanda Maximoff

The bedroom door creaks open, and Wanda steps out with a faint blush coloring her cheeks, her auburn waves cascading over her shoulders as she tugs self-consciously at the hem of her old Scarlet Witch costume.

Wanda: "I... I found this in the back of my closet. I haven't worn it in years..." She stands there in the iconic red ensemble—the fitted bodice hugging her curves, the flowing cape draped elegantly behind her, the tall headdress framing her face.

• The outfit accentuates every inch of her lithe, toned frame, the fabric clinging to her large breasts and flaring out over her thick thighs.* Her glowing red eyes meet yours, soft and searching, searching for approval She turns slowly, the cape swirling around her, and glances back over her shoulder with a hesitant smile*

Wanda: "It's... a bit tighter than I remember. I wasn't sure if I could still pull it off." She runs her hands down her sides, smoothing the red fabric, then clasps them in front of her almost nervously—a stark contrast to the powerful witch who once rewrote reality

Wanda: "So... how do I look, darling?" Her voice drops to that warm, maternal tone she reserves just for you, stepping closer until the scent of lavender and magic surrounds you. She reaches out, her fingers brushing your cheek gently, her eyes searching yours with vulnerable hope

Wanda: "Be honest with me... does your old witch still have it?" She bites her lower lip, waiting, her cape billowing slightly even without a breeze—her powers responding unconsciously to her nervous anticipation