#switch!wanda maximoff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bishovapls · 1 month ago

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Our Little One - I think you both need Daddy, hm?

Relationships: Natasha Romanoff & Wanda Maximoff & Reader

Summary: When Carol asks you out in front of Wanda, she snaps. She takes you home, desperate to claim you, to mark you, to own you. But it’s not just her bed you belong in, and when Natasha comes home to find you both absolutely lost in the scene, she makes one thing very clear: if you’re going to be ruined, it’ll be by both of them. Together.

Warnings: 18+, Mommy Kink, Daddy Kink, Age difference, Older WandaNat/Younger Reader, BDSM, Dom/Sub, Strap-on, fingering, Cunnilingus, Punishment (kind of), Safe word/gesture check-ins. Aftercare, but also idk if it counts because it happens, and then they start up again like the feral animals they are.

A/N: There was never meant to be a part two to this, but after a request from @tomy5girls, who am I to say no? I know this isn’t exactly what you asked for, I may have taken a few liberties and run with it a bit, but I hope you still enjoy it!

I think there’s enough context to catch you up on what’s going on, so you don't need to read part one. But if you want to, the first part is here.

As I mentioned last time, smut isn’t something I’ve written too much of before, but the reaction on here to the first part was crazy. Thank you, everyone, for being patient and supportive as I step a bit out of my comfort zone!

Word Count: 10,143

Anywaaays, sorry for the yapping. NSFW below the cut, you can also read on AO3.

The café was warm and quiet, with sunlight streaming through the windows and spilling across the wood-panelled floor. The clink of mugs and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine created a soft, rhythmic background hum, while indie music played quietly from the speakers overhead. You were tucked into your usual corner seat, your laptop open in front of you, a half-empty latte sitting forgotten beside it. Across from you, Carol was scrolling through the shared project document, her brow furrowed in concentration as she absorbed the final bits of the work.

It was your last study session with her. After two months of grafting, revisions, and back-and-forths, this was it. The project was finished. And you were proud of what you’d done together. The project was solid, clean, well-written, even a little brilliant. Maybe even an A.

Carol had been more than tolerable during the process. She was smart, dry in her humour, and easy to get along with. You’d laughed, found a rhythm, and she never made you feel stupid for missing something or needing more time. But that wasn’t what had your skin buzzing, you weren’t thinking about the project. Not really.

What had your attention was Wanda.

She moved around the café with quiet grace, her apron snug around her waist, hair clipped back but a few strands escaping to frame her face. She hadn’t looked directly at you for a while, but you could feel her eyes on you, her presence heavy in the air.

Every time Carol leaned in a little too close, every time she gestured to the screen or shifted in her seat, you felt Wanda’s gaze flicker over to the two of you. You could sense the tension in the room, even without looking up from your work.

Your girlfriends hadn’t approved of the arrangement from the very beginning. You’d tried to be reasonable, explaining how it was strictly academic, that Carol was nothing more than a project partner. You reassured them, over and over, but it never truly landed, not with either of them.

Wanda’s eyes would darken every time Carol’s name passed your lips, her jaw set just a little tighter. Her touch would change, no longer casual or gentle, but possessive. A hand curling firmly around your waist, or fingers digging into the softness of your thigh like a silent warning.

And Natasha? Natasha didn’t say much. She didn’t have to. The shift in her body was enough, the rigid line of her spine, the way her mouth pressed into a tight, unreadable line. You’d catch the flick of her gaze, sharp and calculating, as though she were already cataloguing the best way to make Carol disappear.

You weren’t naïve. You knew what it looked like when they were on edge. And with Carol, they weren’t just on edge, they were poised, barely leashed. Jealousy burned hot in both of them, but it manifested differently. Wanda clung to you like you might slip through her fingers. Natasha watched like a predator, calm and still, but lethal just beneath the surface.

They didn’t trust Carol, not because she had done anything wrong yet, but because they knew how easy you were to be taken. They knew how easy you were to corrupt. After all...they’d done it first. They knew the way you softened under attention, how you craved approval. They knew exactly what it looked like.

And they weren’t about to let anyone else try.

—--

The first night you’d gone to Carol’s to work on the project, they’d summoned you to their place the moment it ended; it didn't matter that it was late, or that you had an early class the next morning. There hadn’t been a choice, and you obeyed, of course, you always did. Because when they gave you an order, it wasn’t a suggestion.

You’d barely stepped through the door before Natasha had you pinned against it, the sharp click of the lock still echoing when her hand curled around your throat.

“Get undressed,” she had commanded, her voice low and steady, like it was taking everything in her not to snarl. “Mommy and Daddy need to see if anything’s been taken from us.”

And they’d checked everything. Every inch of your skin, your scent, your breath, your neck, your breasts…your thighs. Wanda had traced the inside of your legs with her fingers, like she could feel if anyone had dared to touch you. Natasha had knelt before you, her gaze laser-focused on your pussy. She stared as if trying to figure out whether you were still truly hers, before leaning in to taste, just to be certain.

Some might have called it toxic. Obsessive. Overbearing. But you’d discussed the boundaries long ago. This was part of it. You weren’t afraid of their jealousy.

You needed it.

Before them, you had been quiet. Ordinary. Invisible, almost. But now, with them, you were something worth claiming. Protected by two beautiful women who saw the world as full of thieves trying to steal what was theirs. And what was theirs was you.

Three sessions at Carol’s were all it took before they’d reached their limit. Every time you were at her apartment, they were climbing the walls back home, restless, pacing, barely keeping it together until you walked through the door and they could get their hands on you.

You remember that conversation clearly. You were lying in bed, your skin still flushed, marked, every inch of you thoroughly inspected, claimed all over again. Wanda had been the one to speak, her tone deceptively gentle as she tucked herself beside you, fingers dragging slowly over your hip.

You had two options: Natasha could pull strings, lean on her department contacts, and get you reassigned to a new group entirely. Or you could keep working with Carol. But only under Wanda’s roof, in her café, where her eyes could stay on you the entire time.

You’d chosen the café. And now, when you came home, there was no need for the checks. No demand to strip or let them inspect you. Wanda could see everything. Every shift of your body, every glance. She knew, without asking. She always knew.

—--

Your thighs pressed together under the table as you thought about them. About the possessiveness, the way they made you feel like you were something to be desired, something that belonged to them.

Carol was still talking, but you were still only half-listening, lost in the anticipation. Eventually, Carol’s voice broke through your thoughts, her tone softer than before. “Hey, I was wondering…if you wanted to keep seeing each other, even though the project is done?”

You stiffened, but you tried to remain casual. There was no way your girlfriends would allow this. You gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Carol, I don’t think I can. But I’ll see you in Professor Romanoff’s lectures.”

Carol’s expression faltered, the corners of her mouth dipping into a subtle frown before she masked it with a casual, almost cocky smirk. “Why not?” she said, her voice dipping slightly, trying to sound playful. “We have chemistry, don’t we? We click, we laugh…Let me take you out. Just once.”

“I’m taken, you know that, Carol,” you said, keeping your voice steady, even as that familiar flicker of nervous energy crawled up your spine. And she did know, because Natasha and Wanda had made damn sure you’d told her. Had made it clear that you weren’t available. That you weren’t free to be taken.

Carol chuckled, but there was something more confident about her now, a playful lilt in her voice. “Oh, come on, baby. I bet I could treat you better. You haven’t even told me your girlfriend’s name. Can’t be that serious, can it?”

You wished you could’ve told her the truth, that the woman behind the counter was your girlfriend. That Wanda, along with Natasha, loved you in ways you’d never even known to dream about.

That they touched you, ruined you, worshipped you, and made you feel things you didn’t think were possible. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell Carol that you belonged to Wanda, because everyone knew Wanda was Natasha’s wife. And if you were with Wanda…then you were with Natasha too. And that was a line you could not admit to crossing. Not without consequences.

The only time you were allowed to blur those lines was when the three of you escaped the city, trips to quiet towns or distant coasts where no one knew your names, where eyes didn’t linger and gossip didn’t follow.

Or on rare nights when they brought you into their private circle, introduced you to the few friends who didn’t flinch at blurred boundaries. Friends who didn’t care that you were sleeping with your professor, only that Natasha’s smile came easier with you beside her, and Wanda’s eyes softened whenever you curled up in her lap like you belonged there.

You’d gone quiet for too long, lost in the swirl of your thoughts, still reeling from Carol’s boldness and the weight of Wanda’s gaze. The sharp crack of glass hitting tile jolted you back to the present. Wanda had dropped the coffee pot, the sound slicing through the café like a warning bell.

You looked up, and the moment your eyes met hers, you knew it hadn’t been an accident. The tightness in her jaw, the deliberate stillness of her posture, this was a message. A command. You scrambled to your feet without thinking, moving to her side as quickly as you could, heart thudding, because you understood exactly what she wanted: your attention, your obedience.

“I’ll, uh…I’ll text you, Carol,” you said quickly, kneeling to help Wanda clean up, the tension in your chest growing tighter.

Carol, unsurprised by your quick retreat, nodded as she picked up her bag. “Think about my offer, darling,” she said, flashing you a small, almost knowing smile before she left.

—--

Wanda was eerily silent as the two of you cleaned up the broken coffee pot, but the sharpness of her breath was impossible to ignore. Her hands trembled ever so slightly, and it was clear she was fighting something. Some dark desire that had taken root inside her, a simmering need she was trying to control.

You glanced quickly around, relief washing over you when you saw the place was clear. No one to witness whatever was about to unfold. You moved to the door, flipping the sign to closed as if marking the boundary between the world outside and whatever was waiting for you inside.

When you returned to kneel beside Wanda, paper towels in hand, the glass was in the bin, but her eyes were still fixed on the spill of coffee. Every inch of her body was taut, coiled, like a tightly wound spring ready to snap.

You wiped up the mess, taking extra care to get every last drop, even though you knew she wasn’t paying attention to that. She was watching you, studying every movement, every shift in your posture. You hesitated for just a moment, then whispered, "Mommy?"

Your voice came out softer than you intended, trembling slightly, betraying the nervous excitement that rushed through your veins.

You knew exactly what kind of mood she was in. This wasn’t the woman who caressed you to sleep or soothed you with gentle words. This was the side of her that demanded everything and took what was hers with a force you could never deny.

She didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched, thick and oppressive, but you could see it, the tightening of her fist, the tension in her jaw. Wanda was struggling to hold herself together, not to give in to whatever force was swirling inside her. It was both terrifying and...thrilling.

"Mommy…I’m yours. All yours," you said, a little breathless, your words coming out almost like a plea. You needed her to hear you. To feel your devotion, your submission.

She finally looked up at you, and your breath caught in your throat. Her eyes were cold, unrecognisable. There was something in them that made your pulse spike, a jolt of fear curling low in your stomach. For the first time, you felt a rush of real fear, the kind that made your knees weak, and your breath shallow.

"Mommy, please…please," you whispered, your voice barely audible, a tremor in your words as your body reacted to the mix of fear and something else, the something inside you that wanted this, craved this. Loved this.

Wanda’s voice broke the silence, low, smooth, and terrifyingly calm. "Get your things, little girl. We’re going home."

—

The drive back was consumed by an uncomfortable silence. You didn’t try to make conversation. Wanda’s presence in the driver’s seat seemed almost too quiet, but the energy she radiated spoke volumes.

Her hand said everything. It was firmly planted on your thigh, fingers gripping tight, the pressure almost unbearable. You swore you could feel her nails through the fabric of your jeans, a constant reminder of the simmering tension.

The moment the car stopped and you stepped inside the house, the door barely clicking shut behind you, she was on you. Her body pressed into yours with a heat that knocked the breath from your lungs, pinning you against the door so firmly it rattled in its frame.

Her lips found your neck immediately, and there was nothing soft about it. The first press of her mouth was hungry, almost desperate. She didn’t leave room for you to react, her lips closing around the sensitive skin of your throat, sucking hard, leaving a bruise in its wake.

The sensation shot through your entire body, a mixture of heat and pleasure laced with a sharp twinge of pain that made you tremble.

Her hands were everywhere, gripping your hips, your waist, pulling you even closer. She was marking you, claiming you with each kiss, each bite. There was no hesitation, no gentleness, just raw possessiveness.

She moved to the other side of your neck, the pace never slowing, her teeth grazing your skin, her lips locking onto every inch, every vulnerable spot she could find. You couldn’t escape it. You couldn’t even try.

She was determined to cover you in her marks. And she was succeeding.

Her hands slid up, cupping your face as she angled you just the way she wanted. You felt the sharp pull of her mouth once more, and this time it was even harder. She sucked at your neck until you moaned, the sound strangled as she left another mark, darker than the last.

You couldn’t stop the shudder that wracked your body, couldn’t stop the way your knees threatened to buckle beneath you.

She pulled away for a breath, her eyes narrowing as she studied you, searching for something that only she could see. “You didn’t defend me,” she whispered, her voice low, almost a growl. The words felt like a physical blow, and they twisted your stomach into knots. “She said she could treat you better…and you didn’t tell her otherwise.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of her words sink in. Before you could respond, Wanda’s hands were on your shirt, ripping it from your body with a kind of frantic desperation. You gasped, her actions both shocking and thrilling in their intensity, leaving you breathless in more ways than one. Her lips found your collarbone in an instant, her bites sharp and insistent.

Your heart raced, your thoughts scattered in a whirlwind. “I…I got lost in my thoughts,” you finally managed to stutter, your voice trembling.

She paused, just for a moment, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, and the tension between you crackled in the space that remained. “Oh yeah? What were you thinking about?” she asked, her voice rough and demanding, as though she needed you to confess something.

You swallowed, the fear and excitement mixing into something potent. “You, Mommy,” you whispered, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I was thinking about you.”

“Not her?” she growled, her lips brushing over your skin like she was tasting your response. “Your needy little pussy didn’t get wet at the thought of her taking you? Using you like the little whore you are?”

“No, Mommy,” you breathed, your voice shaky. “I was thinking about you and Daddy, how well you treat me, how good you make me feel.” You could feel the heat of her breath against your chest, her teeth scraping against your skin, each bite pulling you deeper into the tension that threatened to consume you both.

Her lips curled into a dark smile, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she leaned in again, her mouth brushing against the raw, bruised skin.

"You’re mine," she murmured, the words sending a thrill through you. "And I’ll remind you of that every chance I get."

You nodded quickly, your throat dry, the weight of Wanda’s gaze still heavy on you. She stepped back just enough to give you space to pass her, but the moment you moved, she was on you again.

Her hand slid to the back of your neck, firm and unyielding, guiding you forward and up the stairs with a force that left no room for hesitation.

When you finally reached the bedroom, she released her hold on your neck. You felt the absence immediately, the air growing colder without the heat of her touch.

But before you could gather your thoughts, she spoke, her voice low, controlled, but still carrying that dark, possessive edge. “Strip."

The command was simple, but it sent a rush through you, a tight knot forming in your chest as you quickly obeyed.

You could feel her eyes on you, watching every movement as you undressed. And the second you were done, she spoke. "Get on the bed. Arms up, legs spread," she commanded, her voice dark and unwavering as she undressed too.

Once again, you complied, your body responding to her authority as if it had no choice.

She approached with measured steps, a quiet authority in every movement. Her hands were steady as they guided you into position on the bed. She took her time securing your limbs, each secured with practiced precision.

Her fingers brushed over your skin afterward, double-checking each restraint, making sure you were held but never harmed. The care in her touch was unmistakable, control, yes, but wrapped in a kind of reverence.

Even in the grip of her possessive rage, Wanda was measured, deliberate. She ensured your safety with every touch, her care never faltering.

Her eyes, which had burned with jealousy moments before, were now steady, focused, scanning you for any sign of discomfort.

“Colour?” she asked, her voice quieter now, gentler but still laced with the simmering remnants of her earlier fury.

The weight of the scene clung to you, every nerve alight, every sense overwhelmed. But beneath it all was something deeper, trust, safety, the grounding memory of how careful she’d been. How her anger never once translated into recklessness. You loved this. All of it. Especially the way she’d handled you like something precious, even as she claimed you.

“Green, Mommy,” you said, clear and steady, no hesitation in your tone, only devotion.

Her lips curled into a small smile, dark and approving. “Good girl,” she whispered, the praise both soothing and possessive, before her eyes darkened again, the storm of her desires never far from the surface.

When she finally climbed over you, it wasn’t lust that drove her, it was obsession, a force bigger than her body, bigger than her fury, something relentless and consuming that had nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with possession.

Her fingers skimmed your sides, reverent but firm, her touch dragging goosebumps in its wake, and her eyes locked on yours, dark and unblinking, daring you to look away.

Something about the way she held herself above you, barely restrained, seething with intent, made it impossible to breathe, and yet you didn’t want to move. You wanted this. You needed this.

And then she began again, just like downstairs, her mouth returning to your skin with a single-minded purpose. Her lips pressed against your collarbone, soft at first, almost deceiving, and then her teeth followed.

You gasped, your back arching slightly off the bed, your fingers twitching uselessly against the restraints. Her touch ignited something low in your belly and high in your chest all at once.

Another mark, lower now, then another just beneath it. Wanda was painting a story across your skin, one bruise at a time, and every single one echoed with the same word: Mine .

The heat of her mouth was matched only by the fire burning inside you. When her teeth grazed just beneath your ribs, sharper this time, a heavy moan escaped you before you could stop it.

It trembled out of your throat, like your body was pleading for more even as it trembled under the weight of what it had already been given.

Between every bite that still throbbed and the sting of the one currently being delivered, you could feel your cunt begin to ache. Soft whimpers slipped from your lips, your body aching to move, to beg, to chase more. But you didn’t.

This wasn’t about your pleasure, not right now. Wanda needed this. She needed to mark you, to own you, to feel you give yourself over without asking for anything in return. So you offered her your stillness, your obedience, your surrender.

You caught her gaze again, her pupils blown wide, her breathing uneven, and for a flickering second, something shifted in her. Not softness. Not even calm. But relief. A raw, aching flash of gratitude that you were still here, still hers, still letting her claim you like this.

She leaned in again, slower this time, her lips dragging beneath your navel, warm breath ghosting across your skin, shaky, uneven, trembling with the weight of what she was holding back. “Mine,” she whispered, hoarse and low, like the word itself was a vow and a warning wrapped in longing. “Only mine.”

It wasn’t just a claim, it was Wanda pleading with the universe, needing to believe it. Needing to feel that she hadn’t lost you, that even in the wild, blurred aftermath of everything, you were still hers. Her hands gripped tighter, possessive, grounding herself in the feel of your body beneath her.

But beneath the burn of her touch, the worship in her voice, a flicker of something deeper pulled at you. Natasha. You knew you belonged to her, too. And yet Wanda didn’t speak her name. She didn’t leave space for her. Her world had narrowed until you were the only thing in it, and Natasha had been pushed outside it entirely.

You wanted to say it. You wanted to remind her. But the weight of Wanda’s devotion crushed your resistance, the sheer need in her pulling the words out of you before you could stop them.

“Yes, Mommy,” you whispered, voice shaky but sure. “Only yours.” Even as guilt curled warm and quiet in your stomach.

When she finally pulled back just enough to take you in, her eyes swept over her work like a woman on the edge of something unspoken. There was nothing untouched now, your neck, your chest, your hips, your stomach, your thighs, even your arms. Every inch bore her claim. Every inch screamed hers .

“So fucking pretty like this, printsessa (princess), ” she said, her breath hot against your thigh, her lips barely brushing the freshest mark, her voice ragged, torn from somewhere deep inside her chest. “Mine. All mine.”

You nodded instantly, your eyes wide and glassy. You could feel the ache she’d left behind, all over you, and you needed her to know you welcomed it. “I’m yours.”

Her smile returned, that slow, dangerous curl of her mouth that promised she was far from finished. “Say it again,” she murmured, her voice low and breathless, barely even a command this time, it was breathless and hungry, like she needed it to live.

“I’m yours,” you repeated, stronger now, even as your breath hitched, even as you squirmed beneath her.

She tilted her head, assessing, and you knew it wasn’t enough. Not yet. “Louder,” she commanded.

You swallowed, your throat dry and tight, but you forced your voice through the tremble in your chest. “I’m yours, Mommy,” you said, louder now, loud enough to fill the room, to echo off the walls, to blot out everything else. “Only yours. Always.”

She must’ve been at least partially satisfied, because after one final glance at the marks she’d scattered across your body, she shifted, rising off you, and the loss of her weight made you whine, high and broken, a sound pulled from somewhere deep.

Your skin felt too bare without her, your chest too open. Everything in you was aching now, not just with need but with dependency, your senses lit up and stretched tight, every inch of you focused on her.

She had pulled you so far down into a space where nothing existed but her voice, her hands, her mouth, and now, without them, you felt unmoored, trembling. You needed her. You needed her.

Her eyes caught yours, and for a moment, just a flicker, her gaze softened, something quieter slipping through the crack in her control. “Just going to the closet, Little one,” she murmured, her voice dipping into that gentler tone she only used when you were already falling apart. And even though the warmth in her voice was slightly forced, it was enough.

She disappeared into the closet without another word, leaving you alone in the thick, buzzing quiet, your breath shaky, your body still thrumming with heat. When she returned, it was with her strap, a deep scarlet colour, the sight of it enough to make your breath hitch, and your mouth water, the anticipation knotting low and tight in your stomach.

Your thighs shifted instinctively, trying to press together, to find even the smallest flicker of relief, but the restraints didn’t allow it, and your frustration only made the ache worse. Wanda noticed. Of course she noticed. Her eyes dropped to the movement, her gaze catching the way you writhed and failed to hide it.

The smirk that curled across her lips was sharp and knowing, and in an instant, the softness was gone again. The Wanda who looked at you now was all shadow and fire again, dark and certain. The Wanda who would ruin you, just to put you back together again, mark by mark, breath by breath.

She crawled back onto the bed, her eyes locked on yours, hungry and unyielding. She moved between your legs and settled into place without hesitation. “Just stay still and let me use you,” she murmured, her voice low and controlled, but with that same simmering edge that had been there all night, that quiet storm of rage and want and need barely restrained.

And then she buried her strap inside you, hard. No warning, no warm-up with her fingers, not even any gentle licks against your folds to get you ready. Nothing, as if she couldn’t bear to wait another second. As if being inside you is what gave her air to breathe.

The sound that ripped from your throat was sharp, raw, somewhere between a cry and a scream. The stretch hit you like a wave, sudden and overwhelming, pain blooming fast and bright.

For a heartbeat, it was too much. Your breath caught, your muscles tensed. But then, just as quickly as it came, the sharpness blurred, twisted into something hotter, something unbearable in an entirely different way.

Wanda’s thrusts started slow, deliberate, and deep, her movements laced with restraint, but it was a fragile kind.

But you could feel the tension winding tighter in her limbs, in the way her breath hitched, the way her jaw clenched. She was holding back, barely. She was trying to stay composed, to be gentle, or at least gentle enough, but it was written in every shaky inhale, every flicker of heat in her eyes that she was close to losing it, again.

With every thrust, her desperation climbed higher, simmering just beneath her skin until it bled into everything she did. There were no soft praises, playful degradations, or the coaxing, honey-sweet lilt you’d come to expect; just raw, consuming need.

Your body arched beneath her, straining hard against the restraints, every muscle taut, your thighs trembling with the effort of keeping up. You were gasping now, breath hitching in sharp, uneven bursts that never seemed enough, stolen too quickly as she thrusted again, deeper, rougher, like she couldn’t help herself.

“Such a pretty little fuck toy for me. Mine, my pretty whore, Mine,” she whispered the words into the crook of your neck as she sank into you again, barely audible over the thundering of your heartbeat and the rush of sensation unravelling you from the inside out. It didn’t even feel like she was speaking to you, more like a reminder to herself.

You whimpered, your hips twitching helplessly, straining for more. You had heard the word ‘mine’ more today than ever, and it hit something raw inside you, something so deep it felt like your soul reached out for her in response. Yes. You were hers. You wanted to be hers.

And then suddenly her rhythm shifted, less controlled, more frantic, every thrust and motion sharpened by her unraveling restraint. Her mouth was everywhere again, biting, branding, her lips dragging across your neck, your chest, down your stomach, as if she couldn’t decide where to leave the next mark.

Her hands tightened at your hips, fingers digging in with a bruising kind of need, anchoring herself to you like she might fall apart without the contact. She was slipping, further, faster, into that frenzy of need, of fury, of desperate, aching possessiveness that she'd tried so hard to cage since attaching the stap to her hips.

But now with her cock slamming in and out of you, your moans and whines gracing her ears, it surged forward, unfiltered, dragging her under. You could feel it in the way she clung to you, in the way her breath hitched and her nails pressed harder. She wasn’t trying to hold back anymore.

And then she was chanting. “Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.” Over and over again, like it was the only word she remembered, the only thing that mattered. She was barely even present now, barely aware of the room, of anything but you.

Your entire body shook beneath her, your lungs struggling to keep up with the broken sobs and gasps that kept clawing their way out of your throat. Her voice was low, hoarse, and relentless as it poured over you like a spell, dragging you deeper under with every breathless repetition.

And you didn’t fight it. You couldn’t. You just let go, let yourself be hers. Be claimed. Be ruined.

—-

You had no idea how long it had been, but you were both so far gone you didn’t hear the door open, didn’t register the familiar creak of the floorboards or the call of “I’m home” echoing down the hall. Nothing existed beyond the frantic rhythm of Wanda’s body against yours, the relentless chant spilling from her mouth, her teeth grazing your skin, her hands branding you with every touch.

It wasn’t until you heard a sharp, animalistic growl, low and guttural, torn from Wanda’s throat, that your hazy focus shifted. Your eyes blinked sluggishly through the haze, breath catching, and when you managed to look past her, you saw Natasha standing in the doorway.

Her arms hung at her sides, her expression unreadable. But her eyes dragged over you like a blade. Every bruise, every mark Wanda had left behind, every shiver and tremble of your overstimulated body catalogued in a single glance. Her jaw clenched, the muscle ticking once, like she was biting back something sharp.

Wanda didn’t stop. Didn’t falter. She kept chanting under her breath, a broken, breathless litany of “mine, mine, mine” spilling from her lips like it was the only word left. She was lost in it, lost in you. Her hips were steady, relentless, as though Natasha’s presence didn’t even register.

But you felt it. The air went taut, almost brittle. Natasha’s silence carried weight, thick with jealousy, with hunger, with a cold, simmering possessiveness that was entirely her own. She stepped forward, slow and measured, her gaze locked on yours, and something inside you fluttered and clenched all at once. You didn’t know what she was going to do. Punish? Claim? Interrupt? Join?

And yet, even with her rage coiled under her skin, even with her dominance thrumming off her in waves, her first move was exactly what you needed.

She shifted to your side with quiet purpose, her presence grounding as she reached for one of the wrists Wanda had bound. Her fingers ghosted over the edge of the restraint with precision, double-checking its snugness.

The tenderness of it made something flutter deep in your chest, a soft ache blooming in contrast to the intensity you’d been caught in. And then, without a word, she laced her fingers through yours, anchoring you with that simple, intimate gesture: A single squeeze.

Because no matter how tightly jealousy coiled in her gut, no matter how fiercely the hunger flickered in her eyes, Natasha’s instinct was always the same.

Just like Wanda earlier, she put everything else aside, possession, dominance, the sharp edge of being left out, and she checked on you first.

That was who they were. That was what it meant to belong to them. Your safety, your wellbeing, your headspace…All of it came before anything they might want for themselves.

The squeeze said everything she needed to ask: Are you okay? Are you still with us? Do you feel safe?

She didn’t bother to use words. She knew you couldn’t answer like that, not now. Not with your mind fogged and your breath stuttering and your body twitching with every slam of Wanda’s hips. She could read it all, your eyes, your moans, the pitch of your breath. So you squeezed once in return. Green .

She knew what that squeeze meant: Yes. I want this. I want her. I’m safe. And something else, less clear, buried beneath the rest. I want you too. I miss your hands. Your voice.

Her body eased, just barely, the tension rolling back a single inch. But the hunger in her never dimmed. It sharpened instead, focused and precise as she looked back down at you, at the mess Wanda had made of you.

After a beat, Natasha’s focus finally shifted, her eyes dragging away from you and locking onto Wanda, taking in the sheer, unhinged desperation driving every thrust of the strap into your battered pussy. She saw it immediately, the way Wanda had spiralled, and Natasha knew it couldn’t go on like this.

She moved without hesitation, stalking around the bed with quiet authority, climbing on behind Wanda, one hand fisting in her hair and yanking her back just enough to make her spine arch. “Yours, huh?” she bit out, voice low and edged with something dangerous. “Just yours?”

But Wanda didn’t falter. Didn’t even slow. She snarled the word like it was a war cry. “Mine.”

The scene throbbed with tension. Wanda was still pounding into you despite Natasha’s hold, her chant relentless. “What the hell happened?” Natasha asked, voice tight but controlled, like she was clinging to the last shred of calm.

You couldn’t speak, your mouth too slack, your body too gone, and Wanda didn’t answer either, not until Natasha gave another sharp tug, pulling harder, her tone slicing through the fog. “I said,” she growled, “what happened?”

Wanda whimpered, her breath catching like the question had torn through something raw. Her voice came in pieces, ragged and splintered, every word punctuated by a desperate thrust. “Carol. Tried. To. Take. What’s. Mine.”

Natasha’s gaze snapped back to you. It was cold and brimming with something territorial. You braced yourself, expecting her to descend with that same consuming intensity, to tear through Wanda’s marks and press her own into every inch of you until her claim was carved just as deep.

But she didn’t. The sharp edge dulled, tempered by understanding as her eyes swept over you and then her wife.

Wanda wasn’t just fucking you. She was holding on for dear life. Natasha saw it clearly now, recognised it for what it was. Wanda had lost too many people, too many pieces of herself over the years. The fear of losing you had cracked her wide open.

Natasha could’ve taken what she wanted. Could’ve made her own claim in kind. But for now, instead, she exhaled, letting her dominant instinct soften just enough. You needed grounding, and Wanda needed pulling back. And Natasha would be the one to do it. Even if every part of her still ached to take.

She reached around, her hand locking firm around Wanda’s waist, stilling her movement with ease. “What’s ours,” she said evenly, the correction deliberate as her grip tightened. Wanda whined at the restraint, hips twitching against Natasha’s hold, and you whimpered too, aching at the loss of friction.

Wanda’s control began to splinter the moment Natasha kissed her, slow, grounding kisses against her cheek, tender in a way that cut through the haze like a balm.

Her head lolled back against Natasha’s shoulder, her body still tense, but wavering now. “Do you need to safeword, Wands?” Natasha murmured against her skin, the calm, coaxing cadence unmistakable. “You seem... out of control, lyubov' (love). ”

Wanda shook her head, a near-frantic movement, “No! Need to cum, wanna cum!” Neither of you had cum yet despite how long it had gone on, despite the desperate grind and the bruising rhythm.

Hearing that desperate plea fall from Wanda’s lips while she held so much power over you felt dissonant, but it lit a fire in you all the same. She usually took what she wanted, came when she wanted, without a second thought, but now it was clear she was floundering.

The scene had shaken her, and no matter how hard she had been trying, she couldn’t do it alone. That crack in her composure did something to you. It slipped under your skin, tangled in your chest, and before you could stop it, a moan fell from your lips, needy, involuntary, betraying just how much it affected you.

Natasha turned to you at the sound. “If she hasn’t,” she murmured, voice gentle now as her eyes found yours again, “then I’d wager you haven’t either, have you?” You shook your head, breath still coming in shallow bursts.

Something in her expression changed again the moment she realised you’d been holding back this entire time. The flicker of pride came first, swift and searing, lighting her eyes with approval. “Good girl,” she murmured, and the praise landed like a reward you didn’t know you’d been waiting for.

But then her gaze gentled, the pride ebbing into something softer, sadder, closer to regret than triumph. Like she could see how much you’d given, how much you’d endured, and how long you’d waited. “I think you both need Daddy, hm?”

It wasn’t often that Wanda submitted to Natasha, twice, maybe three times since you’d all been together, and only ever when she wasn’t fully in control of her headspace, when she needed grounding but needed to continue. But Wanda nodded slowly, the fight draining out of her body as she leaned back into Natasha’s hold, surrendering.

Natasha’s hands moved, settling on Wanda’s hips, allowing her to move again but slowing her movements with firm, steady pressure. “That’s it,” she murmured low against Wanda’s ear, her voice soft but commanding. “She’s been so good for you, Detka (babe). Took everything you gave her, didn’t she?”

Wanda shuddered, still panting, still half-lost, but she nodded, her body giving into Natasha’s lead without resistance.

Natasha kept her tone gentle, coaxing, like she was taming something raw and shaking. “How about you let her finish now, hm? Let her cum for us.”

Wanda didn’t speak, she didn’t need to. She just followed, pliant under Natasha’s hands, her breath catching as she thrust her hips in rhythm with the guidance she was given. And Natasha, her mouth brushing Wanda’s temple, praised her low and warm, “Good girl.”

Wanda whimpered at the praise, her body trembling and her mind still fogged with the frenzy that had consumed her, but Natasha’s presence gave her something to hold on to, something solid to ground herself against.

You could feel the shift, the difference in how Wanda moved now. Her thrusts lost their wildness and turned into something more intimate, more focused, like she was being taught how to feel again.

And god, you felt it too. Every inch of it. Your breath stuttered, hips jerking involuntarily with each movement, your body already so close to the edge it ached. The pressure coiled tight in your core, a simmering burn that had been denied too long. Natasha’s eyes were on you, catching every flinch, every gasp, every tremble.

“She’s close,” Natasha murmured into Wanda’s hair, her voice rich with heat and reverence. “Can you feel that? I bet her cunt is so tight around your cock.” Wanda let out a broken moan and nodded, her pace faltering for a moment under the weight of Natasha’s words.

Natasha’s hand left Wanda’s and slid up to her throat, not choking, just holding, grounding, a firm reminder of presence, of who was in control.

Her other guided Wanda’s towards your clit, silently reminding her to provide the stimulation you needed, and it shattered you, the added touch stealing your breath as you cried out.

“That’s it,” she purred, low and commanding.. “Let us have it, Little one. Let go.”

And you did. It crashed into you like a wave, hard and fast and all-consuming. Your back arched, the restraints biting into your wrists as your body bowed under the force of your release.

You screamed and whimpered, and they were both there, holding you through it, Wanda clinging to you like she could anchor herself to your pleasure, Natasha murmuring praise that bled into your skin like balm.

With Natasha’s guidance, Wanda stopped thrusting and began to grind, the base of the strap finally giving her the stimulation she needed. She came not long after you with a desperate sob, body trembling violently. Natasha’s voice, a blend of filthy praise and affection, slid into her ear, coaxing her through it. As Wanda’s body went limp, attempting to collapse against you, Natasha caught her effortlessly, aware of the soreness you’d likely feel.

Wanda whimpered at not being able to snuggle into you, and Natasha pressed a kiss to her temple. “She’s right here,” she murmured softly, before gently laying her down beside you. Wanda instinctively curled into you with a sigh, seeking the comfort of your warmth.

Natasha pressed another gentle kiss to the top of Wanda’s head before shifting her attention to you. Her movements were practiced, instinctive, and soft as she moved to unbuckle the restraint on your wrist.

The second the leather came loose, your arm dropped like dead weight, boneless and sore. Natasha caught it gently, guiding it to rest over Wanda’s back. You curled your fingers into her skin instinctively, craving the contact, the reassurance.

The other restraint came next, then your legs, Natasha working with slow, deliberate tenderness, her hands steady and reverent. Every time you winced, she soothed it with a murmur, a stroke over the inflamed area or a kiss.

Wanda wasn’t moving much now. She was pliant, completely surrendered, clinging to you with the last threads of adrenaline. Natasha knew that look, knew Wanda had dropped deep, and you weren’t far behind.

Her voice softened even further as she pulled the blanket up over both of you, tucking it around your bare limbs like armour. She leaned down, her hand brushing tenderly over your cheek, her thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “There’s our girl,” she whispered, her voice low and thick with pride. “You did so fucking well. Mommy really used you, huh?”

Your throat was too raw for words, your mind still floating in that hazy space between pleasure and exhaustion, but you nodded.

Natasha kissed you once more before slipping away from the bed. You assumed she was going to get water, and you were right; she was back within seconds, moving with her usual calm efficiency.

She guided your head gently, coaxing the glass to your lips until you took a few slow sips, then shifted to pry Wanda up just enough to do the same for her. Neither of you drank much, but it was enough to get you at least a bit hydrated.

Wanda exhaled, her breath hitching before she whispered, “Didn’t mean to lose it like that.” A pause, a stillness between you, broken only by her unsteady breathing. “Carol wanted you...said that...that she could...treat you better.”

Her voice cracked slightly, the words filled with vulnerability, and your chest tightened at the pain in them.

Then her tone shifted, rising into a whine, hurt lacing her every syllable as she clung to you tighter. “She tried to take her from us, Nat,” Wanda whimpered, her eyes flicking to Natasha even as she clung to you like you were the only thing keeping her anchored.

Natasha’s jaw tensed, her eyes flicking up for a moment, but she said nothing. Instead, she settled in behind Wanda, wrapping herself around her wife like a shield. Usually, you were in the middle, the one cocooned in their arms, but it was clear Wanda needed that security now.

Natasha began to stroke her hand gently over Wanda’s spine, her touch slow and comforting. She didn’t forget you either, though. Her other hand reached across the space to where your wrist was still faintly marked, fingers brushing the bruised skin in slow, soothing circles.

Time passed in a slow, syrupy kind of stillness, thick with warmth and the quiet hum of three heartbeats finding their way back into sync. Wanda lay curled against your side, her face pressed into your collarbone like she could disappear into you, her breath evening out in slow pulls that softened with each minute.

You felt the shift in her, how the tension bled out of her muscles with every exhale, how her fingers that had clutched you with bruising desperation earlier now merely rested, featherlight and unmoving.

Natasha’s hand never stopped. She trailed her fingers lazily up and down your arm, over Wanda’s spine, keeping you both tethered to the present.

Eventually, Wanda stirred. Not much, just a shift in how her legs tangled with yours, a blink that stretched long enough to signal she’d returned to herself. She looked up at you, her cheeks still pink, her hair tousled from earlier. But her eyes, they were clearer. Worry creeping back in.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice hushed. Her gaze scanned your face like she expected to find something broken.

You gave her a tired, lopsided smile. “Course I am. I don’t break that easily,” you said with a wink, even if your voice was still a bit scratchy from earlier.

She looked relieved. Kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips, a soft, fluttering press that made you giggle as her breath brushed against your skin. “Good,” she whispered against your mouth, and you could feel the last of her tension ebb as she rested her head against your shoulder again.

“Alright,” Natasha said eventually, propping herself up on one elbow and glancing down at you both, her voice light but edged with unmistakable command. “Time to soothe those marks, you must be sore, hm?”

You groaned immediately, flopping back onto the pillow. “Do we have to?” you whined, dragging out the syllables like a sulking child. “Can’t we just stay here? Forever?”

Wanda let out a sympathetic sound and buried her face back in your chest for a second. “She has a point…”

Natasha raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You two are impossible. Yes, we have to. Wands, you went feral. She's covered in bruises and bites.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even as you rolled your eyes. “You make it sound like she mauled me.”

Natasha sat up straighter, grabbing the lotion bottle off the nightstand. “She did maul you. Look at this—” She tugged the sheet down just enough to expose your chest, your stomach, the inside of your thighs. The marks were everywhere, hickeys darkening by the minute, deep, vivid bursts of colour in the shape of Wanda’s mouth. “You’re a goddamn work of art. Or a crime scene.”

Wanda peeked down at your skin and let out a low, sheepish laugh. “Oops.”

“‘Oops,’” Natasha repeated dryly, her tone somewhere between fond and chastising. She gave Wanda a light nudge with her shoulder. “You’re lucky she likes being ruined.”

“I love being ruined,” you chimed in helpfully, grinning as both their eyes snapped to you with matching looks of exasperated affection.

Wanda leaned down and nuzzled your jaw, her voice a little lower now, velvet-soft and sincere. “I do still feel bad. I got...swept up. Possessive. Jealous. Like I had to prove something. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” you said gently. “And you didn’t. I promise.”

Still, she dipped her fingers into the lotion and rubbed them together slowly to warm it, her movements suddenly careful. She started at your wrists, your poor, bruised wrists where the restraints had bitten deep, and touched you like she was handling something sacred. Her fingers glided over your skin in slow circles, whispering apologies into every motion.

Natasha joined in a moment later, taking your other side. She pushed the sheets down further, exposing more of your bruised body to the soft lighting, and began to work the balm into your sore muscles. Their hands moved over you in tandem, smoothing across the worst of the bruises, ghosting over the places that still burned faintly from overstimulation.

And for a while, no one spoke. The only sounds were your soft sighs, the quiet slick of lotion on skin, the muted creak of the bed as they shifted around you.

Once they were done, Natasha glanced down at your neck and snorted. “There is no way you’re going to college looking like this,” she said with a laugh, dragging a fingertip lightly over a particularly brutal hickey under your jaw. “You look like you tried to join a vampire cult.”

You snorted softly, still squirming beneath their slow, soothing touches. “If Wanda were a vampire, I’d definitely let her bite me.”

You thought it was harmless. Wanda certainly looked pleased. Her eyes glinted, teeth flashing as she leaned close again, brushing her lips along your throat. "Careful," she breathed, her voice low and smooth, “I might take you up on that.”

A shiver ran through you at the sound, your breath hitching as her words sank in, stirring something deep inside. Your body responded without hesitation, already aching, already yearning for more despite the evening you’d already had.

And just like that, Natasha froze, her eyes locking onto Wanda, as she once again threatened to claim. But now, as she saw the way you were reacting, the way you were craving more, Natasha’s restraint faltered. It was different from before. You were ready, and that knowledge twisted something deep inside her, making it harder to hold herself back.

“I better be allowed to bite too,” Natasha murmured, her voice low and simmering with tension. It wasn’t loud, but it had a sharp edge to it, a warning wrapped in something darker. “You’re lucky I’m not already. Wanda stole you, made you hers, and hers alone.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to deny it, but she was already moving. Her fingers left your skin only long enough to catch Wanda’s chin in a firm grip, tilting her face up, forcing her to meet her eyes.

“You ever forget that she is ours again,” Natasha said, quiet and razor-sharp, “you will regret it.”

Wanda swallowed hard, the flush on her cheeks deepening, her pupils dilating wide as she whimpered under Natasha’s hold. Her legs squeezed together as if that could do anything to stop the ache building between them. Her body instinctively allowed Natasha to take the lead again, as if it knew that was what Natasha needed. She nodded once, quickly. “Yes, Nat.”

“Good girl,” Natasha praised, brushing her thumb across Wanda’s cheek with maddening softness. But she didn’t let go. “You don’t get to take her like that without me, ever.”

She finally released her chin and turned back to you, eyes darker now, warmer, but hungrier.

“And you,” she murmured, smoothing both palms down your sides, fingers slipping over your hips and between your legs, “you were very good letting Wanda use you, weren’t you? Letting her get drunk on jealousy and ruin your pretty little pussy without even thinking to let me join.”

You gasped as her fingers brushed over your slick again, slow and unhurried. You were soaked already. Every part of you felt raw and needy, but Natasha was in no rush.

“But you are ours,” she said, sliding two fingers through your folds, not yet pressing in, just letting you feel the threat of it, “Ours .”

Wanda let out a soft, broken noise, eyes fixed on where Natasha’s hand was between your legs. Her hand moved as she was about to reach for you, but Natasha caught the movement without even looking.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” she said, like it wasn’t up for debate. “You don’t get to help until I say so. You had your fun.”

Wanda whimpered, chest rising and falling fast, her cheeks glowing with shame and lust.

Natasha finally slipped a finger inside you, slow and shallow, barely enough to satisfy, but your back still arched up from the mattress. Her other hand splayed across your hip, holding you still.

“You’re so fucking wet,” she murmured with a smirk, leaning down to kiss your inner thigh. “You like this, don’t you? Being good for us. Letting her make a mess of you, and then letting me put you back together.”

Wanda’s breath caught as she watched, her hands fisting in the sheets beside her thighs. “Natasha—”

“Shh,” Natasha interrupted. “You don’t get to speak unless I tell you to either.”

You whimpered at the sound of Wanda’s submission, it added fuel to the fire burning through you. Natasha added a second finger, pressing deep this time, and you cried out, your whole body tensing around her.

“That’s it,” she cooed. “Such a good girl. Ours. Not hers. Never just hers.”

You nodded frantically, brain already fogging under the slow, relentless pace. “Yours, yours, yours. Daddy, please!”

Natasha smiled, pleased, eyes gleaming as she leaned in to kiss your jaw, your ear, her tongue darting out to taste the sweat there.

Wanda’s hands were trembling as she watched, the heat between her thighs unbearable. She couldn’t stand the fact that she had to watch.

Each sob, wail, moan, and sigh that left your lips only deepened the ache in her chest, reminding her of what she had done, of how she had left Natasha out when she should have known better.

It was the perfect punishment, but Wanda couldn’t help but try her luck again. “Please, Nat,” Wanda whispered, her voice thick with need and desperation. “Please let me—”

Natasha turned her head, eyes flashing. “No,” she said simply. “Not yet. You want her? You earn it. You wait.”

And then she curled her fingers just right, again and again, dragging you higher with each pass, her thumb barely brushing your clit until you were trembling, too far gone to do anything but moan.

The room pulsed with the sound of your breathing, with your soft cries and the wet sound of her hand moving in and out of your cunt. Every stroke, every whispered word sent a rush of heat through you, the world narrowing to nothing but the feeling of her fingers inside you.

Even as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, Natasha never let up. Her movements were unrelenting, rhythmic, a steady push and pull that kept you coming without giving you so much as a chance to truly catch your breath.

You didn’t know how many times you’d screamed in release, each one blurred into the next, an unending rhythm that left you gasping, skin slick with sweat, your body trembling under her control.

Eventually her pace slowed, and your eyes fluttered open, the world around you a haze of soft light and warmth. You turned your head slightly, and your gaze found Wanda. Her eyes were wide, her breath equally as erratic. She was flushed and panting like she’d been the one writhing beneath Natasha’s hand.

“God, look at you,” Natasha murmured, eyes still on you, even as she addressed Wanda. “So fucking needy, you only had her an hour ago. Pathetic.”

Wanda whimpered as her hands twitched again, and this time, she couldn’t resist; she reached out, just enough to brush her fingertips against Natasha’s arm. “Please,” she begged again, her voice barely a whisper, but it was a plea nonetheless.

“Fine, but only because I’m generous,” Natasha murmured as she kissed your temple, and then your cheek, her fingers never stopping. “I’m not cruel. I share.”

She tilted her head, her gaze soft yet commanding as she finally looked over at Wanda. “You want to taste her?” Natasha’s voice was low, deliberate, as if she already knew the answer.

Wanda's breath hitched at the words, her entire body tense with yearning. Her eyes flicked to Natasha, wide and pleading, before they dropped to you.

Your skin was glistening with sweat, your chest rising and falling in the haze of pleasure still swirling through you. She nodded, the movement almost frantic, her voice trembling with need. “Yes, yes, please, Nat! I want to please!”

Natasha’s lips quirked into a small, wicked smile, a brief flicker of satisfaction passing across her face before she leaned down, her kiss slow and deep. It was a kiss that said she was still in control, even if she was letting Wanda in. She pulled away just enough to speak, “Then come here.”

Unlike her usual poised self, Wanda wasn’t graceful as she moved, urgency in her every motion. The moment she reached your legs, her gaze lifted, her eyes locking with Natasha's.

Natasha moved her hand, slowly, so slowly from between your folds, her fingers glistening with your cum. “Open your mouth.”

Wanda obeyed. Natasha pressed two fingers past her lips, watching her take them in eagerly, greedily.

“Good girl,” Natasha praised, eyes softening just a little. “Now you can touch her. You can thank her. And you can show her just how sorry you are.”

She shifted to one side, but not far, not giving up control, just…allowing space. Letting Wanda kneel between your legs, hands shaking as she lowered her head.

Wanda’s tongue slid over your folds and your clit gently before diving in fully, like a woman starved. It was as if the act of watching had only intensified her need, making it raw and undeniable despite the fact that she had already claimed you so thoroughly.

“That’s it,” Natasha murmured, stroking your stomach, watching Wanda devour you. “She’s ours. Not yours. Not mine. Ours.”

Her hand slid up to cup your breast, squeezing gently, her thumb brushing over your nipple, squeezing and teasing in perfect time with Wanda’s mouth.

Every touch sent waves through you, every whisper tangled around your spine. Natasha’s voice wrapped around you, her praise both tender and unrelenting, while Wanda’s lips and hands moved like a vow, her remorse bleeding into every lick and every suck as she drank you dry, bringing you closer and closer.

You couldn’t hold yourself together. The intimacy, the intensity, it was too much. You splintered under it, unravelled into the space between their bodies, between their worship and their claim. And this time, when you broke, it wasn’t just your body giving in. It was your heart, your trust, your submission.

And through it all, Natasha's voice, low and reverent at your ear, became the centre of everything, grounding you even as you soared.

“That’s it, Little one,” she murmured, almost like a prayer. “That’s what you needed. That’s what we give you, together.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff smut #mommy wanda #daddy natasha #wlw smut #marvel fanfic #marvel smut #switch wanda #Bishovapls Fics #our little one

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 2 months ago

Text

𝑇𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑀𝑒

pairing: wanda maximoff x transfem!reader

summary: Emo Wanda loses her virginity, and you're the best partner ever.

content warnings: reader has a penis, handjob, sex, finger sucking, light choking, condoms, power dynamics if you squint

word count: 4k+

masterlist

“I want to touch you.”

You look up at the words, blinking slightly as you set your book aside. Your head is in Wanda’s lap, the fingers running through your hair stopping as you give her your full attention.

“What brought this on?” You ask, sitting up and facing her. “I’m flattered, don’t get me wrong, but I know you wanted to take things slow since it would be your first time and everything.”

Wanda’s green eyes look down at her lap for a moment before she casually throws her hair over her shoulder, shrugging. You see her feigned nonchalance for the vulnerability that it is but decide not to comment on it, instead taking her ring-clad fingers in your own and intertwining your hands.

“Do you want me to touch you while you’re touching me?”

“No.” Wanda’s eyes cut toward you, her thick eyeliner somehow still in place even after an entire day of classes. “I’ll get distracted if you touch me, and besides, I want to touch you without there being an expectation of receiving anything in return.”

You nod, shifting your weight on the couch. “I’ll sit on your lap then?”

Wanda takes a deep breath, her hands already reaching for your waist. She helps you onto her lap, moving her hips until she’s comfortable with your eight sitting on top of her. She can feel the warmth from your crotch, your slight bulge making her mouth water.

Fuck, she’s already wet.

Clearing her throat, Wanda tries to force her blush down, her face feeling hot. Her hands move your arms to your sides, squeezing your wrists gently before releasing. You don’t move them, so she takes it as a sign to continue.

She doesn’t know what to do.

“Here,” you murmur. “Let me help get you started.”

Wanda’s hands barely graze your skin, her fingers hesitant as you pull your shirt off. Wrapping her hands around your waist, she watches you pull the fabric over your head. She can’t help but let out a small gasp as your red lacy bra is revealed.

“It’s your favorite color,” you murmur, a small smile on your lips as you watch her. Your thighs straddle hers, your arms loose at your sides as you sit on her lap.

“It is,” Wanda says, her fingers tightening around your waist for a moment before she waves them, red wisps shooting toward the light switch. The room is plunged into darkness before a single lamp clicks on and washes your body with soft, warm light.

Wanda’s fingers are slightly hesitant as she bites her lip, her eyes roaming your body. You wonder where she’s going to begin touching you, your waist perhaps? Or maybe your chest, where she can already see your nipples hardening under your bra.

Gentle fingers stroke your cheeks, her hands cupping your face. You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of her fingertips roaming your features. She traces a line down your cheeks and under your jaw, over your nose and eyebrows. Softly, she traces your lips, pausing on the corners when you smile slightly. Her hands resume moving up your face and across your temples before carding through your hair and tucking it slightly behind your ears.

Sometimes, Wanda wonders how she got so lucky with you. She’s never been the relationship type or the type for any sort of affection in general. But then you showed up, tipsy at a frat party with your backward hat and warm eyes, and that stupid, blinding smile of yours. Wanda had pushed you away at first, keeping you at a distance even as she found herself hanging out with you more than her own brother. But somehow, you managed to always wiggle your way back into her life and over her walls.

Occasionally, Wanda will glance over at you when she thinks you aren’t looking. She’ll think about all the ways her hard, jagged edges should hurt you and your soft heart. But that hadn’t stopped you from mockingly getting down on one knee and presenting her with a cherry ring pop (her favorite kind, you always paid attention to every small detail about her) and asking her to be your girlfriend.

“Hey,” you whisper, leaning in slightly. “Where did your head go?”

Wanda blinks, her hands still buried in your hair. She moves them back to your face, stroking your cheeks as she lets out a rare smile. It’s soft, and not at all jagged. “Just thinking about you.”

“Aww, you have a crush on me so bad,” you tease, your eyes crinkling in the corners in that way Wanda loves.

“Shut up,” she says, but there isn’t any heat behind her words, her fingers trailing down your jaw. “Is this okay?”

You know what she means, even if she’ll never say it out loud. Wanda will never admit just how scared she is of disappointing you. Not that she ever could. “It’s more than okay, baby. Take your time. I’m enjoying your hands on me.”

“I bet you are.”

Wanda doesn’t say anything else, something in her eyes shifting as she runs her fingers down your neck. She pauses when she feels your heartbeat, the blood racing through your veins. It rushes beneath her fingertips, under your warm skin as it keeps you alive. She suddenly felt her own chest ache for a moment, knowing that she could feel the very essence of you under her fingers.

“Can I use my mouth?”

Your chest heaves at the question, and Wanda can’t help but glance down. “Fuck yes, you can, Wanda.”

Wanda’s hands resume their movements, slowly running down your neck as her eyes lock on the way you tilt your head back. Your collarbones are sharp, and Wanda runs her fingers over them before gently pressing her thumbs into the dip in your skin where they meet your neck.

A low moan grumbles in your throat, your bottom lip snagged on your teeth. Your eyes are closed, and Wanda feels something relax inside her. She loves your eyes, and how piercing they are, but right now it’s nice to not be observed. She also loves that you’re relaxed enough to trust her like this, to close your eyes and let her do whatever she wants. It should be daunting, but instead, it’s fucking exhilarating. Wanda surges forward.

Pressing her lips against your neck, she drags her tongue across the spot where she can feel your blood pumping wildly. You smell good, like warm bread and honey. Wanda loves it. Sometimes, she steals your clothes just so she can bury her nose in them and feel you while you’re away. Not that she’ll ever admit that. You never seem to run out of sweaters, though.

Dragging her nose up your neck, Wanda explores the side of your throat with her lips and tongue, relishing in the small sounds and gasps escaping your lips. Her other hand dances around the base of your neck, not applying any pressure, just touching your soft skin and memorizing every curve and bump.

Her kisses turn heated, her breaths picking up as she marks your skin. She loves the way you squirm on her lap, the tent in your pants obvious as she works your body up. Your hands are still at your sides, your fingers fisting the fabric of Wanda’s ripped jeans.

“Fuck, Wanda,” you breathe.

“I know,” she murmurs into your neck, inhaling your scent before moving to the other side and marking that up too.

You’re grinding in her lap now, soft whimpers sounding out as you try to maintain some composure. It’s not working very well. The sensation of Wanda’s lips against your neck feels like liquid pleasure running through your veins.

She pulls away, but before you can really complain about it, her lips are crashing down on yours like it's the only thing she’s ever wanted to do. Her hands cradle the back of your head, her tongue licking against your lips until you finally part yours. Her lips refuse to part from yours, her body leaning into yours as she kisses you. It leaves you breathless in a perfect sort of way.

Your chests heave in tandem, the need for air winning as your lips part. Wanda rests her forehead against yours, her hands tracing down your neck to rest on your shoulders.

Meeting your gaze, Wanda smiles at the heat in your eyes. “I’ve still got more of you to touch,” she reminds you, gently running her hands down your arms until she reaches your hands. She lets her gaze drop, pulling one of your hands into the space between your bodies, her fingers gently tracing yours.

Wanda loves your fingers. They’re dainty and long, with your fingernails cut short but polished beautifully. She loves the contrast of her silver rings and chipped black nail polish to your thin gold rings and well-maintained cuticles.

Slowly, she brings your hand up, tracing her lips with the fingertip of your forefinger. Your breath hitches, your gaze locked on your hand. Wanda parts her lips and gently sucks two of your fingers into her mouth, her tongue warm and strong as she watches your eyes darken. Your hips are moving slightly, soft breaths hitting her face as you pant.

“You like sucking my fingers, baby?” you ask, your voice low.

Wanda nods.

“You’re very good at it,” you murmur, licking your lips as your eyes glance between the fingers in her mouth and her piercing gaze.

Smirking, Wanda gives your fingers one last suck before slowly pulling them from her mouth. They glisten slightly, as you feel yourself throb at the sight, your breath slightly shaky. Wanda gently guides your hand back to your side, her palms running up your arms.

Now she’s moving quicker, her bottom lip snagged on her teeth as she looks down at your chest. Her fingers trace the straps of your bra, rubbing over the fabric until she cups your breasts in her hands. Lightly, she runs her thumbs over your hardened nipples poking through the fabric.

You gasp and arch your back slightly, pushing your chest further into her hands.

Smirking, Wanda runs her thumbs over your nipples again, loving the small sounds she’s pulling from you. Her hands move slightly until she’s able to pinch your nipples between her thumb and forefinger, your small whines turning into low moans.

“Take it off,” you plead. “Baby, please take it off. I need to feel you.”

Well, Wanda can’t say no to that. She’s never been good at denying pretty women anything. And you’re the prettiest woman she’s ever seen, so she reaches around your back and quickly unsnaps your bra, sliding it down your arms and placing it on the couch.

Your nipples are achingly hard, your breasts soft and perfect underneath her palms. Taking a few steadying breaths, you watch Wanda’s face as she gently rolls your nipples between her fingers, her eyes glancing up at yours for a reaction.

God, you already look ruined. Your eyes are slightly glassy, your lips swollen from the kiss and parted as you pant. Your cheeks are flushed and your pupils are so dilated that Wanda can barely see the color of your irises. It’s a picture of beauty.

“You look so pretty like this,” Wanda whispers, tugging on your nipples and feeling arousal shoot through her at your responding moan.

“I should have known you’d like your girls all desperate and needy,” you manage to say, Wanda’s hands kneading your breasts as her thumbs swipe over your nipples.

“No.” Wanda smiles, “I only like you all desperate and needy. It’s a good look on you, I’ll have to make it happen more often.”

You nod, agreeing with her. You typically were the more dominant person in your relationships, but something about Wanda made you want to cave to her every word. Sure, there were times when all you wanted to do was pin her down and fuck her until she couldn’t think straight, but now that the tables were turned, you didn’t mind.

This was Wanda’s night. She got to do whatever she wanted to you, and you were more than happy with that. Her comfort was always your first priority, and you wanted her to lose her virginity the way she wanted to.

“Stand up.” Wanda breathes, her hands slithering down to your waist. Her fingers break the waistband of your sweatpants, and she looks you dead in the eye. “I want these off.”

You’re quick to comply, your erection throbbing and begging to be set free. It’s a bit awkward, but Wanda doesn’t seem to mind your clumsy actions as you stand and pull your pants and underwear down. The fabric tangles around your ankles, and you hold her shoulder for balance as you pull them all the way off.

It would feel weird to be completely nude while Wanda was clothed, but you don’t feel awkward once you see her hungry eyes locked on your cock.

“Can I touch it?” she asks, glancing up at you.

“Of course, baby,” you murmur, sitting back down on her lap and straddling her. Your hands go back down to your sides, your cock standing up proudly between you two. “Take your time.”

Wanda smiles softly at you. She knows this is a vulnerable moment, and she thanks you for trusting her with a small, passionate kiss.

Pulling back, Wanda brings her fingers up to the tip of your cock. She gently rubs her thumb through the precum gathering, loving the way your breathing changes at each touch. She finds a sensitive spot just underneath the tip that has you gasping, your cock jumping slightly. She wants to find more spots just like that and she wants to drive you mad with need.

With confidence from your small gasps and moans, Wanda wraps her hand fully around you, feeling how hard you are. You moan at the action, your hips jerking before you force yourself to remain still. It’s hard to not fuck yourself against Wanda’s hand, but somehow you resist the urge.

“Start moving your hand, baby,” you whisper, your eyes dark as you look at her. She smiles at you, maintaining eye contact as she slowly pumps your length in her hand.

It’s agonizing and so fucking perfect.

You throw your head back, moaning as she jerks you off. Her rings against you feel amazing, providing a rough sensation that has you leaking down your shaft. Your precum coats your length as she continues to slowly move her hand up and down, watching your reactions closely. She can feel you throb under her palm when her rings graze your tip, so she does it a few more times just to hear you moan.

Wanda moves her free hand to your chest. Her movements become slightly rough, her fingers digging into your skin as she squeezes your breast. You moan and arch your back again, your hands gripping her knees behind you tightly. She pumps her hand quicker, enjoying the broken gasps and whines as you subconsciously thrust your hips.

“Do you have condoms?” Wanda asks urgently. Her hands are suddenly everywhere, pushing you down onto the couch until your back hits the cushion. She keeps pumping your shaft even as she begins to stand, your hands flying to her waist as you make a noise of protest.

“Yeah, they’re in the drawer next to my bed,” you say, watching her lean down toward you. Her lips press quickly against yours before she pulls back.

“I’ll be right back,” she promises, before she’s dashing up the stairs and out of sight.

You would laugh at her eagerness, but you’re still rock hard and throbbing at the thought of feeling her around you. Gently, you lazily stroke yourself as you wait for her, your other hand rolling and twisting a nipple between your fingers.

“Okay, I got one,” Wanda’s voice sounds out, and you smile as she enters the room again. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and she’s holding a condom in one hand, and a bottle of lube in the other.

“I don’t think I’ll need this,” she says, setting the lube on the floor and tossing the condom onto your stomach. You throb at the implication, taking a steadying breath. “But, it never hurts to be safe, right?”

Her green eyes peer at you for confirmation, and you nod quickly. “That’s perfect, baby.”

Wanda smiles widely at you, tucking her hair behind her ears slightly as she stands next to the couch, her eyes nervously roaming your body. You can tell that she needs some guidance, so you reach out a hand and pull her in by her studded belt.

“Take your clothes off, Wanda,” you murmur. “I want you to strip for me.”

Nodding, Wanda slowly pulls her shirt off, smirking at the way your eyes lock on her chest. She unclips her bra impatiently, throwing it on the ground before cupping her chest and tilting her head. “Like what you see?”

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, stroking yourself a little faster at the sight. “Keep going, baby.”

Wanda smirks. “Hands off.”

Your eyes snap to hers, and you slowly let go of your length. Your cock rests on your stomach, throbbing with arousal as Wanda bites her lip at the needy look in your eyes.

Slowly, she hooks her thumbs into her ripped jeans, pulling everything off in one motion. You see that she shaved, her inner thighs glistening with her arousal as she takes a deep breath and steps closer to you.

“You look beautiful, Wanda.” You say earnestly. “I mean it. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my whole life. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Oh, shush,” Wanda says, but you can tell that she’s pleased.

You pat your thighs, purposefully not touching your cock like she asked -commanded, more like- you not to. “Sit here, baby. I’ll show you how to put a condom on.”

“What is this, health class?” Wanda teases, but she straddles your thighs all the same. You can feel the warmth from her core right next to your cock, but you ignore your arousal as she takes you in her hands.

Ripping the packaging, you open the condom and show her the little nub that’s sticking out. “It goes on like this,” you say, putting it over your tip and pinching the nub. “Then you just kind of roll it down until it’s fully covering everything.”

Wanda watches with rapt attention as you gently use your thumb and forefinger to pull the condom down around your length. Once it’s fully on, you release the nub and smile up at her, making some last adjustments to the condom. “That’s all there is to it.”

“Cool,” Wanda nods, biting her lip. There’s a beat of silence before she locks her gaze with yours. Her eyes are dark again. “I’m going to ride you until you cum in this condom, and then I’m going to keep going until I cum.”

She leans down, smirking. “And you’re not allowed to touch.”

“Fuck,” you manage, before she’s lifting herself up slightly and lining your tip up with her soaked entrance. “Take your time, baby. Focus on what feels good for you, I’ll be enjoying it any way you want it.”

Wanda smiles at you briefly before she’s bracing herself with her hands squeezing your breasts and slowly lowering herself onto your cock.

She only takes your tip in, but it’s absolute heaven. Her soft moans reach your ears, her hands squeezing your breasts tightly as she gets used to the feeling. She feels amazing, your tip surrounded by her wet heat. You resist the urge to thrust up, keeping yourself still as you put your arms up and grip the couch arm behind you.

“Good job,” you pant, your eyes warm as you look up at her. “You’re doing just a good job, Wanda. You feel amazing, baby.”

Wanda’s eyes glaze over slightly at your words, and she lets out a whimper of pleasure as she lowers herself further onto your length. This time, she keeps going until she’s fully seated on your cock.

“Oh, fuck,” she says, her voice high and breathy. Her cheeks are flushed, her hands gripping you tightly. “You feel so fucking good, sweetheart.”

You open your mouth to say something, but Wanda is quicker. She shoves two of her fingers in your mouth, smirking at your muffled gasp of surprise. “Suck.”

Obeying, you suck her fingers as she begins to lift her hips up, your tip dragging along her walls in the best way possible. She fucks herself with your cock, starting slow before she finds a rhythm. Once she finds it, you’re a moaning mess.

The wet sounds of her pussy sound out, her ass meeting your hips as she fucks herself. Your eyes are closed, your fingers cramping from how hard you’re gripping the couch arm. Wanda stops occasionally, fully seated on your cock, grinding her clit into your pelvis as she moans.

“You feel so fucking good,” she gasps out, pulling her fingers from your mouth and gently wrapping them around your throat. You cum right then, your strangled moans sounding out as you feel yourself cumming into the condom. You squeeze your thighs tight as your eyes shoot open, Wanda’s flushed cheeks and wide eyes staring at you. “Does it feel good to fuck me, baby?”

“Yes,” you moan out, her hips moving faster as she nears her orgasm. “Fuck baby, you feel so good around my cock. It’s perfect… you’re perfect. Holy shit, I feel so good right now, Wanda. You’re making me feel so fucking good.”

Wanda’s hips stutter, and she keeps milking your cock, the pleasure overwhelming as she fully seats herself on your length. She grinds roughly, her other hand moving from your chest to her clit as she rubs fast circles. Her pussy walls spasm, then tighten in the most pleasurable way possible as her orgasm washes over her.

Your cock is overstimulated, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Wanda is writhing slightly on top of you, her fingers squeezing every drop of pleasure from her clit as she rubs it gently. Her other hand releases your throat and gently trails down your sternum as she steadies herself.

“That was…” Wanda opens her eyes, looking down at you with a lazy smile. “That was fucking amazing.”

She bites her lip, suddenly shy. You take that as permission to move your hands, and you sit up slightly as you cup her cheeks.

“You were amazing, Wanda,” you say, kissing her softly. “I loved every second of that.”

“You were pretty amazing too,” Wanda murmurs, rolling her hips. Your cock throbs slightly, semi-hard and still buried inside her. “You followed my orders like the good girl you are.”

You smirk, your length hardening again. “Keep talking like that, and we’ll never make it to the shower.”

Wanda giggles, kissing you again. Her lips are soft and insistent, her tongue grazing your bottom lip before she sucks it between her teeth. Pulling away, she releases your lip as you groan, your cock almost fully hard again.

“Next,” she murmurs, shyly running her hands over your shoulders. “I want to try sucking you off.”

You groan dramatically, throwing your head back as Wanda erupts into chuckles. “You’re going to kill me, woman,” you gasp out, theatrically clutching your chest.

“Yeah,” Wanda shrugs, her eyes glinting. “But you’d probably find that hot too.”

Smiling, you lean in and kiss her again. This time it’s lingering. You pour your emotions into the kiss, hoping Wanda understands just how happy you are that she trusted you with her first time.

“I love you.” You lean in and kiss her one last time, just for good measure.

“Sap,” Wanda teases, biting her lip and wrapping her arms around your neck.

“You love it.”

“Yeah,” she smiles. “I do.”

---

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themilfsland · 3 months ago

Text

Can we switch?

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff X female!reader

Summary: when you find out your bottom (or maybe not anymore) emo girlfriend was holding back her desires because she was afraid of her powers but you encourage her to let it all go.

Words count: ~ 3.7

tags | content: soft but smutty , bottom!Wanda (until it changes), top!reader (or maybe not this time), fingering, strap-on, magic cock, cum inside, possessiveness.

A/n: I've been thinking a lot about Emo Wanda unraveling her top side.

Time flies, as the elders say. It feels like just yesterday that Wanda joined the Avengers. She took the title of the youngest on the team, which meant you were no longer the spoiled one or the center of attention. In a way, that was a relief — Steve and Tony weren’t breathing down your neck anymore — but it probably also meant the last slice of cake wouldn’t be saved for you anymore. It's a shame, really, since you’d gotten used to the little treats Clint gave you after missions.

You remember the wary look in her eyes during that first week. She was like one of those black cats at midnight, always slipping away, avoiding interactions, and when she was forced to join group activities, she would linger in the corner of the room. "She’s still getting used to things," Steve would say. Besides, it would be hypocritical of you to criticize her behaviour — during your first month with the team, you were just about the most antisocial person possible.

Things were perfectly normal for you until Sam had the brilliant idea of suggesting you help Wanda with her training and power control. Great. Now the newbie who doesn’t even say "good morning" to you was going to be your responsibility. Of course, you tried to argue your way out of it in every possible way — how could the second-youngest — you — member of the group have enough experience to teach someone else? Unfortunately, nothing worked. The team agreed, and not even Natasha had your back this time. The reasoning was simple: you have the ability to control the elements of nature, so you were apparently the best choice to help Wanda learn to manage her powers.

And it was from that tutoring mission that you and Wanda really got to know each other, getting even closer and today marks one year since you made your relationship official. Clint bet it would take you a month to admit you were in love; Nat, knowing you better, gave it a few more months — you were way too stubborn to confess your feelings that easily. And the truth? You were already in love with her by the second week of training. Some people like to ask, "Who felt it first and who felt it deeper?" In this case, you were the first to realize your feelings for Wanda, but she was the one who ended up feeling them more intensely.

Although everyone still teases you about how rocky the beginning was — they used to say you were like a cat and a dog in a fight — now you’re more like two lovebirds. Honestly, you blamed her at first — she never listened to you, said your advice wasn’t helpful, and claimed you were being mean with your words. But over time, you started to realize how fragile Wanda really was — not in terms of strength, but when it came to her emotions and self-esteem. She was scared of herself; her own powers terrified her.

You were certain about her insecurity over her self-control during one of your training sessions. You had asked her to attack you — she hesitated and sent a weak pulse of her red energy. It had been days of you pushing her to really strike, but all you ever got was that same soft red wave. That’s when you decided to provoke her — bad idea. Your not-so-friendly words earned you a flash of her red eyes, and the next thing you knew, her magic had thrown you hard against the training room wall. You were on the floor, hand on your head, trying to process what had just happened when Wanda was suddenly above you, frantically checking for injuries and apologizing over and over. You could hear the panic in her voice.

After that day, you began to see her differently — with an understanding that no one else seemed to have. And Wanda knew it too — that you were the only one who could truly see her without needing to read her mind. It wasn’t something you had to work for; it was effortless — like the gentle pull of ocean waves, a quiet feeling between you both that grew stronger with each passing day.

Wanda didn’t change with everyone else — but she changed with you. The first time she let you take care of her bandage, the first time she asked for your help to practice a specific move, the first time she released her magic to strike without being afraid of hurting you — and the first time she let you kiss her.

You were the one feeling insecure that day. You’d always been confident, sure of your actions — but kissing Wanda? Your whole body was trembling beneath the surface. You were certain about your feelings — you loved her and wanted to be more than just teammates. But when it came to her feelings? That’s where the doubts crept in. Sometimes it felt like she was on the same page, but other times it seemed like she only saw you as a battle partner.

In the end, it was Nat who got tired of watching the two of you dance around each other with no progress. She gave you a push — with a hint of a threat — and gave you the courage to make the first move. Credit where it’s due — she was right. Despite the nerves, it all worked out in the end. Better than just good — way better.

---

"Are you two really going to eat all that?" - Nat asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Mmm, probably not, BUT that doesn’t mean you can have a piece," you said, spreading frosting on the last cupcake you’d baked. - "Maybe tomorrow, if there’s any left — and only because I’m a nice person."

"Hm, okay. Soooo..." - she ran her finger through the bowl of leftover chocolate frosting and licked it before continuing - "Do you think this is going to make it up to Wanda?"

"What do you mean by that?" - You knew exactly what she was referring to, but you decided to play dumb.

"Ah, Y/n. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Everyone saw how Wanda was after that party on Saturday, at Stark's" she said, swiping a bit more frosting. "Oh, and all week long after that. So…? Are you two good?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know about Saturday and yes, everything’s fine," you replied in a cold tone.

"Y/n," —-she stepped closer, taking the spoon and cupcake from your hand. - "I know you. Just spit it out already. Better to say it here than let it blow up later with Wanda and make things even worse," she said, eyebrow raised.

You let out a deep sigh before finally starting to vent.

"Okay, so… I didn’t do anything wrong, did I? I mean, if anything happened that night, it was Carol’s fault, she’s the one who started talking to me and sticking close to me the whole time. Why can’t Wanda see that? She’s the one who started avoiding me and..."

Natasha put a hand over your mouth, cutting you off.

"Hey, slow down. Breathe. Let's see..." - Nat said calmly. - "I don’t think you did anything wrong, but maybe you could have handled it better. Carol was hanging pretty close to you, and maybe Wanda saw more than just that. You know your girl — she’s jealous. Very jealous."

You rolled your eyes, and Nat shot you a disapproving look.

"What? Are you gonna disagree with me?" - she smirked. -"You might have taught her how to control her powers better, but her jealousy? Nope. You can feel how crazy she gets inside when she sees you with someone else. Anyway, that wildcat is yours."

She placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. - "I know you two will work it out and honestly, this is probably the perfect chance. Oh, and happy one year of having to witness you two being disgustingly in love. Also, pleaseee… try to keep quiet tonight. There are nights I can hear her saying your name — and not in a very cool way…"

"Natasha!! Shut up!" - you pushed her hand off your shoulder and gave her a shove. -"Go bother someone else. I need to finish all this before she gets back."

"Ohh yess, I almost forgot about her very important commitment today with my little sestra. They’re probably out shopping for some new toys for you two to play with tonight," - she teased, winking as she walked out of the kitchen, laughing while you cursed at her.

---

Everything was set. Pillows and a blanket neatly arranged on the bed, a side table stocked with snacks and drinks, the TV playing her favourite sitcom, and the wrapped necklace you had bought for her sitting nearby. With the busy mission schedule this week, you knew you wouldn’t be able to plan anything big — but that didn’t mean you were going to let the day go unnoticed. Even if it was a simple night, it was your night to celebrate.

"Hey, baby, I’m back," - Wanda announced as she opened the bedroom door. - "Oh, what do we have here? What’s all this about?" she said, stepping closer and you noticed she was hiding something behind her back.

"Mmm, I don’t know… what could all this possibly mean???" - you teased, playing along with her. - "You first — what are you hiding back there?" - you asked, pulling her by the waist until your bodies were nearly touching.

"Hey, that’s not fair! I asked first," - she said, trying to give you a menacing look — but you knew she always melted when it came to you.

"Uh-huh, let’s see what we’ve got here..." - in a quick move, you snatched the package from her hand. - "Hmm, it says: ‘For my love.’ Well, I guess that’s for me then." -You winked and started opening the package.

It was a photo album — filled with polaroids you had taken together throughout the year, memories that made your heart overflow with happiness.

"I love it. It’s so beautiful and special. You’re special! Thank you, baby!" — you didn’t give her a chance to respond, stealing a kiss from her lips.

"Okay, enough. Now, where’s my present?" - she broke the kiss, raising an eyebrow as she stared at you.

"I see… my girl is so demanding. Happy one year, my darling." - you held out your hand, offering her a small box and an envelope.

She asked for your help to put the necklace on while she read the note inside. It was a surprise trip after the mission season — you figured it’d be a good idea to take a few days off, away from the team. And of course, she loved the surprise.

Gifts exchanged, you both settled into bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms as always, sharing another moment of quality time together.

---

Wanda was restless. Not even half an hour had passed since you started watching the sitcom, and she couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes. You had already ruled out the idea that she was just trying to get comfortable — there was definitely something bothering her.

"Wands, what’s wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied curtly.

It was obvious something was wrong. You adjusted your position on the bed and sat up.

"Come on, baby, tell me. What’s going on? I know you're overthinking about something." - you reached for her hand, lacing your fingers together and guiding her gaze to meet yours.

"I don’t know, it’s just that… I… you… you’re mine, right?" — there was uncertainty in her voice.

"What? Of course I’m yours — I’m all yours." - you let out a relieved sigh and a soft laugh, but you noticed that Wanda was still a bit tense.- "Hey, my love," - you gently cupped her chin, guiding her gaze back to you. - "There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m all yours — only yours."

Wanda didn’t say anything, her expression unreadable — until she leaned into you, closing the space between your faces, her lips brushing softly against yours.

The kiss intensified, laced with both urgency and desperation which only meant one thing: she was needy. But it wasn’t just that. Beneath the craving to have you close, there was something else — possessiveness.

Before you realized it, she was straddling your lap — one hand slipping beneath your shirt, nails lightly raking down your back, while the other tangled in your hair, pulling you impossibly closer. Her lips stayed locked with yours, not even breaking for air.

You knew Wanda's needs all too well. Ever since you both started exploring your sex life together, you began to notice the little details — not just the things she likes and doesn’t like, but also the different kinds of intimacy you two share. It usually starts soft — gentle touches and tender caresses — and eventually, by the end, it might get a little rough, but not that much. Sometimes, after a stressful mission, Wanda likes to use sex as a form of relief — and honestly, you’re not complaining. It’s rougher, faster, and deeper — a pretty damn good way to unwind. And then there’s that kind — when she’s overwhelmed with possessiveness, usually driven by jealousy. Oh, that’s the wildest one. She’s hungry, relentless, and won’t stop until she’s fully satisfied. Either way, whatever type it is, she’s almost always the bottom one — just a detail, since it’s never been a problem for either of you.

Then it clicked — you finally understood why she was acting with such intensity. It was about that party. About Carol. She was still thinking about it. Your thoughts snapped back to the present when you heard a muffled moan from Wanda. That’s when you noticed that she was rubbing against your thigh. You could help her out already, but you’ve always liked watching her need grow. So instead of letting your hand wander down, you slid it under her shirt, dragging your nails across her stomach until you reached her boobs, squeezing it over the bra.

She let out a louder moan at the feel of your hand on her skin, breaking away from the kiss to rest her face against your shoulder. A breathless "please" escaped her lips near your ear — her hips moving faster, desperately seeking more contact. It was hard to deny her when she begged like that — so your hand slipped lower, sliding inside her shorts.

When your fingers touched her wet folds she couldn't hold a pity whimper out loud. She kept her pace, rubbing herself against your fingers that were touching her clit — and you let her have a little fun, keeping your fingers still.

It took less than five minutes for her to start begging again — she needed more, she needed you. So you did what she wanted, you pushed your finger inside her cunt, she was so wet it slipped in at once.

And there she was your neddy girlfriend — right on your lap, desperate as her hips moved, seeking the most contact possible, moaning in your ear.

You thrusted your finger faster and deep but it wasn't enough. Then she placed her hand on your neck, and you felt her nails digging into your skin. She looked into your eyes, and you met that gaze — the red eyes — you knew exactly what it meant, she was reaching her climax. - "I need one more finger, pleasee. Don't stop. One more." - She begged between moans.

You acted right away, thrusting another finger, rougher — trying to sync your movements with her hips. She was close, you could feel and see. Her red eyes glowing, she always keeps those when she's desperate in need, when she's about to lose control — she just needs to release.

"hmm tasty as always" - you said, licking your fingers that were sticky with her cum.

She gave a shy smile, still catching her breath. You brushed a strand of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

"Sooo, are we going to talk about this...?"

She stared at you, her expression hard to read, leaving you unsure of what was on her mind. Then, to your surprise, she grabbed the hem of your t-shirt and began to lift it in a gesture to take it off.

"I'm not done, I still need you" - she said while you let her finish taking off your t-shirt.

She gave you a look, and you nodded — you knew she would only talk normally once she was satisfied. She started taking off her clothes, and you stood up to finish taking off yours.

In a second, you were both naked. You reached the nightstand drawer to grab the strap-on and in a hurry, you started wearing, but before you could finish adjusting it, Wanda took your hand, making you look at her in confusion.

"I was thinking...maybe we could switch?"

You were surprised by what she asked, despite hearing the hesitation in her voice when she suggested it.

"Of course we can switch, baby!" - you took off the strap-on and reached out your hand to give it to her. -"Do you wanna help to adjust it?"

She took it from your hand but placed the object on the bed. - “I was thinking about try something different…” - You nodded as a sign that it was okay and she continued - "Soo... I learned how to get an enchanted strap-on but I'll be attached to my body so in theory I could feel everthing..." - she stopped and waited for your comment, you could feel she was a little anxious about it.

"That sounds awesome! What are you waiting for? Let's try it!" - your voice was full of excitement. Wanda returned a smile and cast her spell, and before you realized it, she literally got a magic cock.

"Oh my god, that's so hot." - You couldn’t hold yourself back. And neither could Wanda. She grabbed your arm, guiding you back onto the bed, and with one swift movement, you were beneath her.

She kissed you again, deep and intense, and you felt her desire stirring once more. Her hips started moving, pressing against your body and you could feel her hardness. You were so wet, ready to be filled up by her and her teasing was making you impatient.

"Wands please, I need to feel you inside."

She smiled with her lips still touching yours, getting a better position between your legs, and then you felt her cock pressing your entrance, slipping in slowly. You left a muffled moan.

"You are so wet already, baby" - she pushed all in and you felt your walls being stretched out. - "and you are so tight, you feel so nice."

You love Wanda in every way, but having her like this on top of you?, teasing you like that? It was definitely like paradise. Besides the new magic experience driving your mind crazy. It was so real and good.

She thrusted into you only a few more times at a slow pace but it wasn't enough. She gripped your waist and started pounding her cock faster. You were no longer able to control your moans - you needed her.

You felt her nails in your skin, her thrusts deeply touching your sensitive spot and you could tell she was feeling everything too. She got a rough pace and her eyes started getting red — the red eyes back. But suddenly, she slowed her movements, almost stopping, her hands now lighter on your hips and her thrusts steadier.

Something was wrong. You looked into her eyes — that now were back to normal, and placed your hand over hers resting on your waist. - "Wands? Are you okay? Something is not right I can feel it."

"Nothing is wrong." - She tried to ignore you, but you gave her a disapproving look. - "It's just... I don't want to hurt you." - her voice was low and you couldn't believe what she was saying.

"What? You will never hurt me. I want it all and..."

Wanda didn't let you finish. - "No, you can't be sure about that. You know how I get when my powers get stronger and it takes control of myself. I can't hurt you."

Now it was you who was ignoring Wanda’s words. In one swift movement, you wrapped your legs around her body, pulling her closer.

"I know you won't hurt me. It's okay to be insecure, but I'm with you" - Your hands squeezed hers and you continued - "Honestly baby, right now I need you. I need you to fuck me."

She locked eyes with you for a few seconds — it felt like you could hear every thought racing through her mind. But then her eyes started glowing red again. Oh, she was back — and so were her desires.

You felt her hand burning against your skin. Her movements getting faster, every thrust deep inside your cunt. You heard her moans mixed with your own.

Your walls tightened and she must felt that against her cock because she thrusted rougher — you knew the only thing on her mind this time was to fuck you recklessly. Your moans were desperate getting close to the edge, each stroke sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

"You are mine, all and only mine" - she kept saying those possessives words, by every in and out moviment.

You got the orgasm together, your pussy tighter against her cock and you felt her cum spitting inside. You wouldn’t be lying if you said you felt all of her magic coursing through your veins. You felt full of her.

She rested her body on top of yours, your faces inches apart, and you could feel Wanda’s breath, still uneven. - "You were amazing, my love." - You said stroking her back and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. -"and so so hot."

"Maybe we should do this more often." - she smiled at you and stole a soft lips kiss.

"We definitely should. And without holding your magic back" - You cupped Wanda’s neck, pulling her face closer, and gave her a long, deep kiss.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda fanfic #emo wanda maximoff #wlw #wlw post #lesbian #wanda x y/n #emo wanda switch #switch wanda #wanda mcu

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 4 months ago

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Good Luck, Babe!- Epilogue (1)

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Inspired by the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' by Chappell Roan

Summary: Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Chapter 9- 10.1k Words- This chapter contains 18+ Smut

Good Luck, Babe! Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 8

Chapter Warnings/Tags: Plot (with brief reference to homophobic parents) before eventual 18+ Smut, Thigh Riding, Fingering, Oral sex, Soft smut, Insecurities about body image, Reference to poor previous relationships, Aftercare.

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The sound of a knock at your door drew your attention away from your task at hand, hand pausing with the wooden spoon still in the pot of boiling water, the pasta still swirling around in the water as you halted, eyes flickering over to the clock and brows furrowing at who could possibly be knocking on your door so late. Swiftly, you lowered the heat on the pan before wiping your hands with a cloth, carrying it mindlessly with you to the door to answer, the questions arising in your mind answered as you opened the door, revealing auburn hair that you failed to stop being in awe of.

The warmth that escaped you in your past resurfaced as you made eye contact with the green of Wanda’s eyes, the sight alone of the mesmerising shade wrapping tendrils of love around your heart as you offered her a gentle smile, your eyes instantly taking the hint of apprehension and hesitancy written across her angelic features, gripping your attention as your brows furrowed once more. Wanda shuffled slightly under your enamoured gaze, still not quite used to the sheer amount of emotion you could express with a look before returning your tender expression, the uneasy feeling within her diminishing slightly as she took note of the tea towel in your hand, oblivious to Lucky who was now by your side trying to steal the item.

“Hey,” you softly murmur as you eventually feel the item slipping out of your hand, your gaze only briefly flickering away from the other woman before naturally being drawn back, still unable to stop the longing inside you to appreciate every moment you spent with her. “Is everything ok?” Your tone is laced with concern to match with the look on your face, Wanda’s chest blooming with warmth at your care, her eyes drifting away from you as she contemplated her answer, still trying to adjust to the change in your relationship.

It had only been a couple weeks since the two of you confessed to each other, two weeks since she had finally muttered the words ‘I love you’ and learnt to accept herself, two weeks since she discovered that there was nothing else in the world other than you she wanted as she somehow managed to fall even more in love with you. It was overwhelming, the innate desire within her to be with you, the yearning of the last twelve years almost nothing in comparison to the affection and warmth she’d feel in your presence, her soul desperate for you. The two of you were taking things slow, not wanting to overstep a boundary or rush into anything as you were both mature enough to realise there was more pressing matters in your lives to attend to, Wanda spending most of her time trying to have a civil conversation with Vision about the divorce or with Jennifer to figure out the logistics whilst you had been annoyingly busy with work. The reason and logic however didn’t seem to agree with Wanda’s heart though as she wanted more than rushed moments with you due to life, she wanted to be with you, to feel the comfort you provided but she was still unsure of how to do so, her relationship with Vision making it hard for her to ask for things she wanted. She knew you were different but she was still scared of the rejection she had grown used to.

“Yeah I just- I had a long day and I...” She starts, trailing off as she lifts her gaze to meet yours, hoping her green conveyed what she wanted to say. I’ve missed you.

Just as you always had been able to, you were able to read her like a book, catching the look in her eye and smiling at her comfortingly, stepping to the side and motioning with your head for her to come in as you could tell she just wanted to be with you. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want the same, shutting the door behind her and encouraging her to make herself at home as you wandered back to the kitchen to check on the food you were making, checking to see if you had made enough to feed her as well.

The last two weeks had be the same kind of torture for you, your body and mind unable to stop thinking about her, something you were fond of but also a little embarrassed about, feeling as though you were a teenager once again, infatuated with the girl next door and crushing hard. You were hopelessly in love with her and it proved to be harder than you thought not being with her, even if she was only next door. You also longed to spend time with her, to learn about her day, to ease her worries, to reminisce on the past and form new memories together, yet time hadn’t been on your side at the moment but hopefully tonight would be different and the start of something new.

“Have you eaten yet?” You ask in a soft questioning voice, your back to Wanda as she took residence at the kitchen island, perching on a stool and taking in your house once more, never properly appreciating all the little décor that just made it so you. A genuine smile graced her lips at your question, the natural care you showed her making her realise how little she was shown any sort of affection as you looked over your shoulder at her, taking in the sight of her.

“Not yet,” she answers, resting her head against her hand as she gets comfortable, leaning against the countertop and watching the back of you as you moved about, part of her a little excited at the fact that someone else would be cooking her dinner for once, a privilege she wasn’t presented with much. “I just got back from dropping the twins off at my parents,” she explains, a sour tone hinted in her voice making your brow raise, gathering that must have been one of the issues that stressed her out, waiting a moment to see if she wanted to talk about it and get it off her chest.

“I told them everything,” she whispers after a moment, her fingers mindlessly rubbing against her finger, so used to spinning the wedding ring that used to be there when she was anxious, a habit she never seemed to grow out of. Your eyes widened at her words, not wanting to jump to complete conclusions as you turned to face her, your face nothing but reassuring to her as her fingers continued to trace one another. The fact that a simple look from you could ease the storm raging on inside Wanda’s head calmed her, the fact that you were willing to just listen to her, to soothe her making her appreciate you all the more as you patiently stood opposite her, pulling her out of her insecure and doubtful thoughts.

“How did they take it?” You gently ask, checking on the ravioli before pushing yourself away from the stove, slowly making your way over to her till you were stood by her side, fingers brushing back her auburn locks. It felt natural to touch her lovingly, intimately as your hand instinctively moved to cup her jaw, letting her lean into your soothing touch, her eyes fluttering shut as her hand placed itself above yours, revelling in the warmth of your skin.

“They took the divorce better than I expected,” she huffs out, pressing her cheek a little more into your palm as her mind recalls the events of the last few hours, the plan simply being to drop the twins off for a sleepover and inform her parents of the upcoming changes. She remembers vividly the surprise that washed through her at the lack of animosity or irritation from her parents after telling them, the way her mother seemed to share a look of mutual understanding with her before letting her gaze drift to her husband, the sight stirring something uneasy in Wanda before she continued, suddenly building up the courage to confess more, naively thinking she was having a good moment with them.

Your thumb comfortingly brushed against her impossibly soft skin as she spoke, knowing it must have been hard to talk to her family about the situation, knowing that she had always felt such an immense pressure from them. You wished she didn’t try to carry the weight of her world on her shoulders alone, wanting to offer her support when others should have, to let her know that there was nothing ever wrong with her, she wasn’t a failure. She never would be to you.

“They didn’t react so well to you… to us,” Wanda manages out after a moment, a deep and heavy sigh escaping her lips as your face pulls into a look of shock that she had actually told them but also a saddened smile, knowing that it must have been a horrible experience for her.

Wanda had to block out the sudden outburst from her parents as they reacted to her words, the twins playing elsewhere and leaving her vulnerable to the words her father and mother spat at her, the words familiar as they had been thoughts that haunted her mind throughout the entirety of her life. She refused to believe them anymore, the cruel manner in which they were spoken to her still tugging painfully on her heart though, the other woman just wishing her parents could see that she was happy with you. Surely all they should want is her to be happy?

“Pietro said he would talk to them but I just-” She cuts herself off with an exasperated sigh, your lips instinctively pressing to her temple, taking in the brief scent of her sweet shampoo before pulling back, wanting to look her in the eye as you spoke.

“I know,” you murmur in understanding, her form instantly relaxing at not having to try and verbalise her thoughts, her green eyes flickering between your lips and eyes as she savours your touch, fuelling the fire in her heart. “Just so you know, I am so proud of you for everything,” you whisper in an honest and adoring tone, gaze overflowing with so much love it makes Wanda’s breath hitch, the words, the affirmation meaning the world to her as she feels herself finally being cared for. “For admitting it to yourself, for telling them. I know it’s hard but I promise you, I’ll be with you the entire way,” Wanda can’t stop the appreciative smile that tugs at her lips as she peers up at you in a look that can only be described as enamoured, her face turning slightly to press a kiss to your hand before she moves to stand, encouraging you to take a small step back as she lets her body sink into your embrace.

Her arms snake around your waist and as she holds onto you tight, simply needing to be close to you, to bask in your warmth and safety as your words resonate with her, dissipating the doubts that threatened to pick away at her mind as she focussed on you, on the way your hands delicately ran up and down her back, your body gently swaying hers.

“That’s all I could ever want,” she whispers against your shoulder, voice barely audible but loud enough for you to hear as you both relish in the lovers embrace, savouring the feeling of your bodies perfectly slotted against each other like the final piece of a puzzle.

***

A little while later, empty plates fill the sink as yours and Wanda’s laughter echoes around the room, love and warmth bubbling inside you both at the domesticity of the moment as you tidy up after dinner, green eyes trained on you as you move around the kitchen. Wanda couldn’t help but stare at you, constantly amazed at how she could feel something so passionate and powerful inside her towards you, her heart fluttering in her chest as you looked over your shoulder at her once more, casual smile tugging at your lips. It was intoxicating, the sheer amount of comfort you provided, her eyes settling on your lips, watching as they moved but not quite taking the words in as Wanda admired the plumpness of them, the way the corner of your lips tugged up at her oblivious state, her mind replaying the many times they had brushed hers.

Only once her gaze eventually drifted higher did she meet the expectant and playful look in your eyes, each swirl glimmering with a teasing glint as her cheeks flushed red, your hands motioning for her to pick between the two bottles of wine you had picked up. Her brow raised at your fine taste as she subconsciously bit down on her lip, trying to decide and unknowingly setting your body alight at the action, your gaze mirroring her earlier one and zoning in on her lips, memories of them ghosting yours cruelly filling your mind as heat settled within you. God she was beautiful, her auburn locks perfectly framing her face, eyes filled with concentration as she analysed the two bottles, her teeth pressing against her lower lip subtly, it was too much. You craved to feel her lips pressing against yours, to thread your fingers through her hair but you knew better than to rush anything, wanting to take it at her pace.

Instead of walking up to her and kissing her with all the emotions swirling inside you, you poured her a glass of wine as she requested, encouraging her to go into the living room and make herself comfortable whilst you brought them in, moving to sit next to her on the sofa. Wanda seemed to appreciate the action as she naturally moved closer to you, your fingers brushing as you handed her the glass, the delicate touch enough to send sparks throughout you both as your gazes meet, conveying more than words ever could.

Part of you didn’t want to break the longing look as you took in every shade of green but you decided to at the sudden tension building in the room as Wanda let her gaze drift to your lips again, her eyes darkening a little in desire and making it hard for you to keep your composure. You focussed on putting on an old sitcom you knew she loved to distract yourself, your eyes scanning the screen of the Tv to find the show whilst also noticing her in the corner of your eyes, her gaze still firmly locked on you as she sipped from her wine, seemingly contemplating something in her mind.

“You’re staring again,” you murmur in a gentle tease, turning your head slightly to meet her flustered expression at having been caught again, mirth evident in your features as her cheeks tinted pink, one of her fingers tracing the rim of the glass as she held it with the other, slender digits wrapping around the item.

“Admiring,” she corrects, “I was admiring you,” her teasing smile a sign of her amusement as she leans back against the sofa, keeping her gaze on you before briefly looking over at the Tv as to what you were doing. “I didn’t think you’d remember,” she whispers almost in a confession and slightly confused tone at the fact you had memorised her favourite show, her heart skipping a beat at the fact you had paid so much attention to her that even after years, you still knew the subtle things she enjoyed.

“It would be hard to forget as it was the only thing you ever talked about,” you taunted, recalling the many nights where she’d simply tell you the plot of her favourite episodes as you enjoyed hearing her rave on about the show, the enthusiasm and passion adorable to you as you would watch her with a loving look, wanting to hear her talk forever.

“It wasn’t the only thing,” she mumbled back in response, taking another sip of her wine as your smile grew, your body moving momentarily to place your glass down on the table and out of the way.

“Oh yeah?” Your tone is full of humour as you turn your body slightly to face her better, taking in the way her brow raises at your challenging tone, “What else did you talk about?”

“How insufferable you were,” she teases back, a glimmer of triumph clear in her eyes as you simply chuckle back in response, the sound blessing her ears as she had missed this, the playful conversations you would share, teasing one another until the other would break, most likely kissing the other to shut them up. “You were pretty annoying,” she whispers light-heartedly, the teasing expression on her face faltering at the way your hand naturally moves to her thigh, squeezing softly as you laugh with her, eyes meeting hers with an entertained look.

“You secretly loved it,” you murmur back, unaware at how the two of you had both leaned in slightly, Wanda however realising and moving to lean back so she could also place her glass down, wanting to move them out of the way as warmth settled deep within the pit of her stomach. The feeling of your fingers against her thigh sent a shiver down her spine, a sudden heat and desire consuming her as she licked her lips subconsciously to wet them, tasting the remnants of the wine on them as her gaze met yours, noticing how your pupils dilated as you looked at her.

“I did,” she whispers and neither of you seem to be able to stop the way you both gravitated towards one another, both of your gazes drifting lower.

Wanda wanted you, she needed you, she needed to feel wanted, to feel desired and be looked at in that loving way. Her heart longed to feel appreciated, to feel as though she was the most important thing in the world, to feel cared for, to lose herself in something, in you. Her body longed to feel your touch, to feel your hands caress her cheeks, her hips, her inner thighs as all she could remember was the ghost of your touch, haunting her in all the right and wrong ways. She needed to replace the feeling of larger hands that were only selfish, she wanted to be touched in a way that screamed I loved you, a touch that you were only ever able to satisfy her with.

“Wanda,” you sighed out as you noticed the distance between you close, an intimate atmosphere wrapping around the two of you as you leaned in, waiting to let years of passion consume you both. You craved her in a way that you didn’t think was possible, you were addicted to her, to her lips, to the sinful yet sweet sounds that’d spill from her, the taste of her as she would come undone in your mouth. She was like a drug, one you had been deprived of for too long and desperate for, trying to hold on to the last part of your restraint before you’d relapse into the desire you had for her.

“Y/n,” she whispers out and the sound of your name falling so gracefully from her lips set your entire body ablaze, your hand reaching up to her cheek, cupping it gently as your lips ghosted one another in a tantalising manner, not quite brushing just yet. It was teasing for both of you, waiting for the other to make the first move, not wanting to rush anything yet but your bodies had their demands, desire getting the better of you both as you had waited long enough. You needed each other.

“If we kiss, I… I don’t think I’ll be able to stop,” you confess, your mouths so close Wanda can feel your lips move as you murmur to her, her heart beating wildly in her chest as anticipation gets the better of her, her hand moving to your hair, slowly threading her fingers in an making you flutter your eyes shut at the pleasant feeling.

“Who said I’d want to stop?” Wanda sighs out after what feels like an eternity when it was realistically seconds, the words enough to break your restraint as you tilt your head to crash your lips to hers, the world around you fading away.

The two of you both moaned into the kiss at the sheer intensity of it, the love and passion that your lips moved with against one another as you stole each other's breath away, both literally and figuratively as you refused to part your lips from hers. It was relentless, the way fervent lips moulded against one another, her fingers tightening their grip in your hair as your fingers moved to cup her jaw, splaying against her burning skin as you pulled her face back to yours, feeling as though the world would end if you stopped touching each other.

Wanda moaned softly into your mouth when you deepened the kiss, sliding your tongue against hers in a lewd yet sensual manner as you explored each others mouths, your free hand moving to her waist, caressing the skin in that intoxicating manner she adored, a sigh spilling from her lips in between heated kisses. Her body moved on its own as she manoeuvred to straddle you, the desire and craving inside her overpowering her as she settles on your lap, the action dragging out a deep groan from you as her thighs squeeze around your body, her back arching her chest further into yours.

“Fuck,” the word leaves you breathlessly as the two of you briefly part, your mind fogged with arousal as you take in the sight of her straddling you, her lips kiss swollen and hair a little ruffled, her green overflowing with want as she panted above you, scanning your features. You watched her curiously as she took in your equally dishevelled state, the passion of the moment dwindling slightly into a softer and slower tone, the urgency and desire still prevalent in all your touches though as her hand cups your jaw, tilting your head up to meet her lowering mouth.

It feels like you're waiting an eternity until she lowers her face even more, her lips barely putting any pressure on yours as they briefly brush over them. Your eyes flutter close when you feel her other hand move to your shoulder, drifting down over your collarbone and back up in a soft manner, waiting for her to kiss you, to crash her lips to yours, to do anything at this point as you just wait, wait and wait.

When she feels like she's savoured the moment enough, Wanda kisses you. She kisses you in a manner that shows she's been starved of your lips forever; it's hot, it's desperate, it's passionate. It's everything you wanted it to be. You can't do anything but melt into her touch, hand clutching at her waist to ground yourself as all you can think of is her lips moving against yours, her body pressed up against yours, her soft fingers threading through your hair, just her. You wanted to worship her, to show her all the love in the world, to show her how your heart only beats for her. She was all you ever needed.

A soft moan leaves you at the intensity of the kiss, heat immediately taking over your body, her touch burning into your skin as arousal pools between your legs at the feeling of her lips moving against yours, a sensual sigh escaping her as you pull back from the kiss, eyes darkening with desire as you peer up into the green. Your lips peck hers in between laboured breaths, her hands moving to your shoulders, gliding them down your back and earning another sinful noise out of you, your lips tugging into a smirk as her breath hitches at the feeling of your hands at the bottom of her shirt, cold fingertips brushing the bare skin of her stomach. However, the action doesn’t quite yet the reaction you hoped it would as she tenses above you, pulling back from the kiss and worrying you, scared you had crossed a line.

“I’m sorry,” you pant out, still breathless and dazed at the intense amount of arousal that clouds your mind, concern evident in your features and touch as your hands move to her thighs, softly brushing over the fabric of her jeans as she avoids your gaze momentarily. “We don’t have to-” you start, wanting to express to her that there was never any pressure between you, but she cuts you off, her gaze finally meeting yours.

Your brows furrowed at the look of insecurity in her eyes, your face softening as you let her speak, her fingers mindlessly playing with the loose strands at the back of your neck, eyes drifting over your features as she airs her worries.

“I want to,” she quickly reassures, leaving her green on your lips to emphasise her point before she looks into your eyes, basking in the safety your longing look offers her. “I just… I need you to know that I’m not the same as I was,” she whispers, anxiety and nervousness lacing her words as she lifts her hands to motion towards her body, avoiding your gaze once more as her mind casts back to the few comments Vision had made about her body post giving birth to the twins, the words sticking with her. She didn’t feel as though she was beautiful anymore and she didn’t want you to be disappointed.

Upon seeing her shaky hands and hearing her words, you sit up straighter to look into her timid green, fingers naturally moving to interlock with hers, encouraging her to look at you as your eyes fill with nothing but love, needing her to hear you.

“Wanda,” you murmur when she still doesn't meet your gaze, the insecurities gnawing away at her mind until your finger gently tips her chin up, her green instantly meeting yours and dissipating the worry. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” you confess, holding the intimate gaze and expressing the honesty in your words, the overwhelming amount of care in your voice stirring something deep inside her as she feels her emotions wracking through her, your words healing wounds she never realised cut so deep. “I love everything about you,” you murmur as you lean forwards, noticing how the worry slowly drains from her face, your noses brushing as you tease her with your lips, wanting her to hear you. “Your smile, your laughter, your heart. I love everything because they are a part of you. I love your body, even after all these years, because I know the amazing things it has done, the things you have done,” your words are laced with a delicate and loving tone as your fingers stay interlocked with hers, your hand squeezing hers as you peck her lips, smiling into the brief kiss as you feel her let out a relieved sigh, her body pushing hers closer to you as she kisses you again, wanting to drown herself in your love. “I also love that it’s still so sensitive to my touch,” you add in a gentle tease to ease the atmosphere, earning a soft chuckle from her as she kisses you with a little more purpose this time, the heat that had settled between her thighs making its presence known again.

“I’ve missed your touch,” she murmurs into a kiss, widening the smile on your lips as your hands move to her waist, caressing her soft curves as she grows more comfortable and confident, her hips slowly grinding down against you, sparks of pleasure filtering through her.

“Yeah?” you sigh out a little coyly into another slow and sensual kiss, your teeth biting down on her lower lip gently and dragging it down before releasing it, letting your tongue soothe over the dull pain you caused, relishing in the groan that escapes her.

“I’ve missed feeling so… so wanted,” she sighs out, letting you kiss along her jaw, peppering it in hot open-mouthed kisses as you trail her sharp jawline, dipping lower to her neck and kissing along her throat, teeth teasingly scraping over the searing skin.

“I’ll always want you, Wanda,” you whisper back without any hesitation, pressing a lewd kiss to the juncture of her neck, knowing she was sensitive there before pulling away from the skin before you’d start to cover it in marks, not sure how she’d feel about them. “I never want you to forget what you mean to me,” you husk out as your mouth ghosts her ear, hands guiding her hips with more purpose in your lap, her breath hitching in a sinful manner when her hips roll at just the right angle against you, a bolt of arousal shooting through her. “I want to worship you,” your tone makes Wanda moan at the sheer desire lacing your words, the way your teeth gently nibble on her ear lobe adding to the arousal coursing through her, her body drunk on your touch, on you.

“Please,” she practically whimpers out and fuck you’ve missed the sound of her begging you, a groan leaving your lips as you move your mouth back to hers, crashing your lips together. The love and care underlies the kiss but you both once again are taken over by lust, your actions fuelling one another as your hands drift to her hips, slowing her hips against your lap whilst her fingers tangle in your locks, tugging your head closer and never wanting to part from you until you motion for the two of you to move.

The journey to your room was a blur, hands roaming each other's bodies until the back of Wanda’s knees hit the bed, her body gently falling back against the mattress, her hair splaying across the sheets. You’re quick to climb over her body, pressing her further into the mattress, your lips moulding to hers as you claim her lips over and over again, only pulling back to admire the woman beneath you as your knee slots between her legs, earning a sinful sound. Your gaze is nothing but awestruck as you look down at her angelic form, Wanda shying a little at how in love you seemed, her hands grabbing the fabric of your shirt and pulling you back down to her, needing to feel you do something, anything to her at this point.

You take the hint and press your lips back to hers for a bruising kiss, your hand moving from the back of her thigh up her body, reaching the hem of your shirt and pausing, wanting permission this time as your eyes search hers, asking the silent question. Only when she nods confidently do you continue, your fingers sliding under the fabric and feeling the smooth and soft skin of her stomach, a sigh leaving her at the feeling of your fingers against her bare skin, the touch no longer just a memory.

“Y/n,” Wanda moans out as your hands trace over her ribcage, exploring the skin you longed to feel again, a hum leaving your lips as you refuse to part, your fingers pausing at the fabric of her bra, hands sliding out from under her shirt.

“Is this ok?” You whisper as your fingers wrap around the hem of her shirt, your intentions clear as she mutters a quick ‘yes’ in response before you swiftly remove the item from her, your gaze remaining on hers, catching the brief anxious glint again. You soothe her worries with loving and passionate kiss, your hands copying the actions you previously did but ghosting over her bra, teasing her in a torturous manner as her back arches to chase your touch, your name falling from her lips in a desperate plea, the sound going straight to your head and core.

Once your lips part, you pull slightly to take in the sight of her, your mouth parting at the sheer beauty of her, her body sculpted by the gods, her soft curves enticing, your fingers brushing lovingly over the marks you knew she was anxious about, the touch filled with awe and adoration. Your hands then slide up her body and around to her back, unclasping her bra after another nod of approval and eagerly taking the item off her, a sudden nostalgic feeling bubbling inside you as you remember the first time you spent together, the awkwardness as you both fumbled to undress, simply wanting to lose yourselves to the lustful moment.

“Fuck,” Wanda sighs out and its sinful when your hands gently cup her breasts, her body sensitive to your touch as her hips start to grind against your leg, begging for more friction to ease the incessant throb between her thighs. “Please,” she whimpers as your lips press against her jaw, letting her breathe for a moment as your fingers brush over her nipples, dragging out sensual sighs from her as you toy with her body, pressing your knee further against her and feeling her hips buck up hard against you, a broken moan being ripped from the back of her throat.

“Please what?” You rasp out in a tease, “You have to tell me what you want, love.” The term of endearment only adds to the arousal flooding through Wanda as the dominant tone to your voice goes straight to her core, her hips grinding against your thigh at a steady pace, pleasure swiftly building at the pit of her stomach whilst her hands clutch at your shoulders, nails grasping at the fabric of your shirt, wanting to pull it off.

“You, I want you,” she sighs out, pulling the shirt over your head and moaning into the kiss at the feeling of your bare bodies pressed against one another, one of her hands sliding up into your hair whilst the other scratches down your back, earning a pleased groan from you. “I need you,” she adds in a desperate tone, her voice and hips wavering, signalling to you how close she was as her hips rolled and rocked against you, the fabric of her jeans brushing perfectly against her clit.

“You have me,” you tease, one of your hands moving to her ass, guiding her against your leg and deliberately slowing her pace down, her frantic rhythm pushing her closer to her release. “Use my thigh first, love, then I’ll give you what you want,” your tone lowers an octave as you murmur to her, a moan leaving her at your words and the promise behind them, her mind running wild with fantasies as the memory of your fingers buried deep inside her and your tongue fucking her fills her mind.

“Shit, I’m so close,” Wanda sighs out, her head lolling back against the mattress, her neck exposed for you to kiss down, to mark as you suck a faint bruise at the base of her neck where she could easily hide, the action earning a desperate whine and encouraging the action.

“That’s it, good girl,” you praise as her nails dig into your back, her hips grinding relentlessly against you as she chases her high, the praise making her hips buck hard against you, a broken noise escaping her.

“Say it again, please say it again,” she pants out, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure threatens to crash through her, her fingers tightening their grip on your hair as she softly tugs you away from her collar bone, needing to feel your tongue sliding against hers.

“My good girl,” you husk out against her lips, a pitiful whine escaping her as she feels the coil at the pit of her stomach about to snap, her eyes fluttering open to ask you the silent question. Warmth and arousal instantly floods through you at the begging look in her green, the sheer amount of desperation and submission evident in her gaze enough to make you give in, your lips brushing hers as you mutter the words, “Come for me Wanda.”

With a final roll of her hips, Wanda’s body tensed against yours, a string of moans being muffled by your incessant mouth while pleasure consumed her entirely, her hands holding you close. Your hands slowed her movements against your thigh, letting her buck against you as she rode out the last waves of her orgasm, body melting against yours as she panted for breath.

Your gentle breath caressed her lips as she eventually opened her eyes in response to the soft praise you whispered, a blissed smile creeping onto her lips as your foreheads pressed against each other, her hips gradually coming to a stop against you as you kissed her one last time before starting to move down her body, ready to worship her as you promised.

“You’re so…” you trail off as your lips pepper hot open-mouthed kisses along her collar bones, hands drifting down her sides, caressing her beautiful curves and massaging her soft skin, feeling the way her body twitched at your touch in anticipation, her breath hitching when your mouth ghosted over one of her sensitive nipples.

“So?” She pants out, brushing back your hair so she could meet your seductive gaze as you took her nipple into your mouth, tongue swirling over the sensitive bud in a manner that drove her crazy, dragging moans out of her freely.

“Perfect. Beautiful. Mesmerising,” you punctate each word with a kiss down her body after you lavished her chest with kisses, your lips burning into her skin at each intoxicating touch, your words causing a deep blush to cover her cheeks and even the top of her chest, your lips tugging up into an amused smile at the reaction. “You’re everything to me,” you whisper against her stomach, pressing lingering kisses against the stretch marks that littered her skin from when she was pregnant with the twins, showing her your appreciation for her beauty and how the marks didn’t disgust you. You loved each and every single one as they told part of her story, your lips and hands brushing over the tender skin as your face practically nuzzled against her, worshipping her.

When your lips met the waistband of her jeans, you cast your eyes up her body, a moan escaping you at the sight of her flushed face staring down at you, your compliments flustering her and clouding her mind with want as she stared down at you settling between her thighs, her nails scratching at your scalp softly.

“Please,” she whispered with an overwhelming amount of want, your lips pressing a teasing kiss to the waistband of her jeans before moving to take the item off her, purposely taking your time. Your fingers move slowly and deliberately as you hold her intense gaze, languidly unfastening them before slowly unzipping them, watching in amusement as you see her chest start to rise and fall with ragged breaths, the teasing torturing her. “Detka, please,” she begs again and the use of her native tongue almost makes you cave, almost, an affected sigh escaping you at how her accent beautifully laced her words.

“Be patient,” you murmur back, her hips lifting to help you slide the fabric down her long, slender legs, leaving her just in her panties, a visible wet spot there for you to admire. “I’ll give you what you want soon,” you promise, merely earning a whine from her as she knew you intended on dragging this out, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “So needy,” you tease as your fingers brush over her clit through the soaked fabric, her hips immediately twitching at the teasing action, her hand in your hair tightening once more, pleading with you to hurry up.

“You’ve waited twelve years for this, can’t you wait a little longer,” you amusingly murmur as you kiss her hip bone, smiling against her skin as you hear her groan in frustration, her free hand gripping the sheets to help control herself.

“I think I’ve waited long enough,” she mutters back, earning a chuckle from you as your fingers drag over the wet fabric, slowly circling her clit in a way that’d only drive her insane with desire, her mouth parting to let a low moan spill from her lips. “Please… Please just fuck me,” she begs and all you can do is curse against her skin as you kiss her inner thigh, your hand spreading her legs out for you, eyes hazy with desire.

You give in partially to her, unable to take the teasing yourself as you press a sinful kiss against her clit through her panties, her body trembling already at your touch as the action pulls out a desperate whine from her, the noise turning into a pleased moan when you start to pull the wet fabric off of her. A gasp leaves her lip at the feeling of her core meeting the cold air in the room, your fingers inching closer towards where she desperately needed you, your eyes drinking in the sight of her dripping for you, arousal glistening in the gentle light from the room.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” you whisper as you kiss around her core, not giving her the satisfaction of your mouth just yet, the frustrated moan breaking into a relieved sigh at the feeling of your finger finally meeting her core. You move your finger through the abundance of arousal that’s pooled between her thighs, sliding your finger to her clit and slowly circling it to begin with, your mouth addicted to her soft skin as you mark her inner thighs, wanting her to remember everything from tonight, to see them tomorrow and think back to the sight of you between her thighs, her hands buried in your hair, keeping you as close as possible.

As you touch grows more confident and firmer, moans spilling from her lips, her hips start to roll against your hand, your free hand reaching up to interlock with her fingers at the sheets, letting her grasp onto you instead as you slide your finger down to her entrance, teasingly thrusting it in before sliding it out, coaxing her to chase your finger with her hips as she bucks against you, Wanda able to feel you smirking against her skin.

“Please stop teasing,” she pleas at the feeling of your fingers still teasing her entrance, too busy savouring the sight of her body completely melting at your touch. “I can’t take it anymore,” she whimpers, your composure cracking at her tone, your eyes taking in the sight of her sharp jawline on display as her head lolled back, an idea entering your mind.

“Look at me Wanda,” your tone is dominant but also desperate, the sound making the woman beneath you realise how turned on you were, a shaky breath escaping her. When her green eyes finally find the courage to look down at you, her breath hitches at the hungry yet soft look in your eyes, a moan of your name spilling from her lips as you keep your gaze on her whilst finally sinking your finger into her. “That’s it, keep your pretty eyes on me or I’ll stop, I want you to watch,” you husk out as she watches in awe at the way you thrust your finger into her, the room filling with the wet sounds of your finger pumping into her and her sinful sighs.

“Please Detka, fuck,” she groans when you slide your finger back in slowly and add another, purposely taking your time with her as you intended to drive her mad with your touch, her eyes staying trained on your enamoured gaze as you curl your digits inside her, Wanda’s mouth parting at the feeling. “Shit, just like that, please do that again,” she practically begged as you thrust your finger back in, hitting her sweet spot perfectly while heat floods through you at the sound of her desperate voice, pleasure sparking through her and coursing through her veins.

“Do you need more, love?” You mumble against her skin as your mouth hovers over her intoxicating core, wanting to hear how desperate she is for you, your fingers persisting with your deliberately slow pace, gradually building the pleasure within her as her hips gently rock against your hand, pleasure building at the pit of her stomach and making her clench desperately around you.

“Please,” is all she moans back in response, your resolve crumbling, unable to resist her anymore as your mouth licks a stripe up her core, moans escaping you both at the feeling.

Your wet and warm mouth sparks pleasure and delirium within her, her hips bucking up against you as you nuzzle your face closer, desperate to get a better taste of her heavenly arousal on your tongue, intending to show her exactly how much you love her.

The sound of her lewd moans and the taste of her on your tongue makes you lightheaded with the thought of her, addicted and constantly craving more of her as your tongue swipes through her folds, pleasure flooding through her body as you thrust your fingers into her faster, forgoing with anymore teasing as you couldn’t handle it anymore, never mind her.

“Fuck you taste so good,” you moan into her core, almost forgetting the sweet yet salty taste of her as your lips wrap around her clit, sucking gently whilst you peer up into her lust-filled green, her mouth parting in euphoria as pleasure buzzed through her, hips rocking to meet your hungry mouth.

Her fingers tightened once again in your hair, nails scratching your scalp to create a dull pain whilst you part your interlocked fingers to wrap your hand around her thigh, pulling her impossibly closer and spreading her legs a little more as you get lost within her, tongue swirling over her clit before wrapping around it, sucking firmly as you focussed on every little reaction she offered you. You longed to forever remember the desperate moan that was ripped from the back of her throat at the way your fingers curled and mouth sucked on her at the same time, the hitch of her breath as your tongue swirled around her clit, the way her body twitched as pleasure took over her, swiftly pushing her towards her release. You needed to remember it all.

Her hips soon started to roll against your mouth, coating your chin in her slick as your tongue lapped at her clit, alternating between sucking firmly and swirling your tongue around her, sinful sounds spilling from her lips as her body started to tremble in your grasp, her moans growing louder when you curl them at just the right spot once again.

“Detka, I- Please,” are the only words that she can manage as one of her hands shoot down to grip the sheet beneath her, knuckles bleeding white whilst her other one persists in keeping your head between her thighs, needing you to push her over the edge. “Please don’t stop,” she groans as you curl both of your fingers against her sweet spot, her vision almost blurring at the overwhelming feeling of love and pleasure coursing through her body, your body desperate to watch her fall apart at your touch. “I’m going to come-” Wanda manages in a broken moan, an equally desperate noise escaping you, the vibrations making her buck against your fingers, a whimper leaving her when her enticing green meets your soft and dominant gaze, giving her permission to fall over the edge.

“Come for me,” you murmur against her, keeping your eyes on hers as you watch them roll to the back of her head momentarily, her head lolling back and showing off her defined jawline as her hips stutter against your face, body tensing. A guttural moan escapes her at the amount of pleasure that floods through her, her fingers almost tearing through the sheet as she lifts it to her mouth, trying to muffle the small scream of your name as her release crashes through her, ecstasy and euphoria merging into one.

Your lips pepper soft kisses against her inner thighs as she attempts to recover, your fingers tracing random patterns against her skin as you wait for her to look back down at you, your eyes admiring her, in awe of her beauty as she lays beneath you, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Soft pants spill from her lips as she moves her fingers in your hair, her hand tugging your head away from her sensitive core, her hips still gently rolling against your hand as she rides out the last waves of her intense high, her body soon slumping against the sheets after you slide your fingers out, a sudden emptiness filling her. Your lips climb back up her body, ensuring every inch of her body was showered in affection whilst you whispered more praise before you met her lips, only brushing them briefly and intimately before you pulled back, offering her one of your digits covered in her cum and arousal.

A low groan escaped you when she obediently and willingly parted her lips for you to slide the digit in, her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure and submission at the action as her tongue swirled around your finger, your mind recalling the way her tongue felt on your core, only adding to the heat that still bubbled in the pit of your stomach. Only once she had cleaned your finger did you copy the action with your other one, keeping your gaze on her as you licked her cum off your finger, offering her a teasing smile as her cheeks flushed at the action, eyes darkening in desire again as she pulled your down against her body, kissing you passionately and moaning softly at the taste of herself on your tongue.

Your body moves to lay next to her when the kiss slowly dwindles, your breaths ragged as you fall onto your back, Wanda’s heart dropping momentarily as she fears you were going to leave, to simply roll over and go to sleep like he did after they’d be together, but the worry is swiftly eased when she feels your arm wrap around her body, encouraging her to lay into your side, her face moving to the crook of your neck. You expected her to simply sink into your embrace, to let her exhaustion take over her but you were pleasantly surprised by the feeling of her hand moving to your bare chest, the tip of her nail dragging down between the valley of your breasts and lower, her lips pressing an innocent kiss to your neck, a satisfied hum leaving her at the soft and desperate sigh that left you.

“You don’t have to,” you whisper softly, the want in your voice still lingering as her hand teasingly brushes over your body, her lips kissing up along the side of your neck as you tilt your head to the side, letting her place teasing kisses against your burning skin and engraving the feeling of them into your mind. You can feel her smile against your skin at the care in your words, not wanting her to feel pressured into giving you anything back, her lips eventually meeting the shell of your ear as her hand reaches the waistband of your jeans, fingers deftly unfastening them.

“I want to,” she rasps out at the shell of your ear, her low tone and the way her accent seeps into her words making you let out a shaky breath, your hands swiftly moving down your body to help her rid you of the last of your clothes, her hand quickly returning to your hip. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Wanda whispers into your ear, her touch the opposite of your teasing one as her fingers waste no time in sliding through your folds, needing to touch you, to please you, a gasp leaving you at the feeling of her nimble fingers effortlessly sliding through your slick, covered in your arousal. “I’ve wanted to love you like you were mine,” she continues, her thigh moving to rest over yours, keeping your legs spread and hips still as you try to grind up against her fingers, your jaw clenched slightly as you try to muffle the already desperate sounds that threaten to spill from you at the feeling of your bare skin pressed together.

“All yours,” you managed back, your body overwhelmed by pleasure and arousal as she circles your clit a few more times before dipping her finger lower, effortlessly sinking into you and earning a small groan.

“Mine,” she mutters as she kisses your cheek, then the corner of your mouth as you stifle another moan, a little embarrassed at how quickly the pleasure built in the pit of your stomach, her fingers curling beautifully inside you, her palm brushing over your clit. “I want to hear you, don’t hide,” she murmurs, desperate to hear the effect she had on you, her body longing to feel you spasming around her fingers, to hear you moaning her name freely.

“Shit, Wanda,” you instantly sigh out, trying to buck your hips up but her thigh keeping you down, one of your hands gripping the sheets by your side whilst your other shoots down to her thigh, gripping onto her as her fingers slide in and out of you lewdly. “You feel so good, I- God, you're such a good girl,” you rasp out, the praise making her groan against your skin as she kisses your cheek, encouraging you to tilt your face and meet her lips, her fingers relentless as they curl at the perfect spot, bolts of pleasure sparking through you. You simply pant into her mouth as she thrusts her fingers into you a little faster, her fingers hitting your sweet spot at a different angle and having you moan abruptly into her mouth, your body teetering on the edge.

At the way you clench desperately around her, your mouth struggling to kiss her back, Wanda can tell that your close, her lips swallowing every sound she could as you sighed and moaned against her, her lips ghosting yours as she felt your hips grinding as best they could against her hand, her palm perfectly rubbing against your clit.

“Are you close?” She whispers in a slight tease, already knowing the answer as you simply nod in response, your eyes squeezed shut as you focussed on the euphoria and delirium of her touch, Wanda’s gaze memorising every reaction you offered her. “Please come for me,” Wanda mutters in a soft tone, a desperate tone and it’s enough to make the coil inside you snap, your nails digging into her thigh as your body crashes into its release, the pleasure and intimacy of the moment blurring your vision as you ride out your intense high. You clench desperately around her fingers, walls spasming around her as you rut against her hand, your forehead resting against hers whilst you pant, experiencing the last of your release before you melt against the sheets, relaxation and euphoria coursing through you at the feeling of your bodies sinking into one another.

Her lips pepper soft and loving kisses against your face as you smile at her, fluttering your eyes open to search the green eyes you’d fallen so hard for, conveying all your love for her in the gentle and lingering stare. You lift your hand to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, watching her gaze soften as she savours your caring and affection touch, her heart fluttering in her chest at every tender action.

Wanda hated how, despite the moment being perfect, she still had a gnawing doubt in the back of her mind that you were going to leave her alone as she had grown used to being left to clean and tend to herself, her body simply craving your comfort after such an intimate moment. The worry seemed to express itself subtly within her gaze, your eyes noticing the small glint of fear in her expressive green and silently asking her to explain what was bothering her, the back of your fingers brushing her cheek in a soothing manner.

“Please don’t leave,” is all she whispers, her voice wavering with emotion as your features soften at her tone, your mind grasping a vague idea at the unfair treatment she had received and motivating you to take even more care of her, simply wanting to give her the world.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur with conviction, reassuring her as your hand moves to her free one, lifting it to your lips to kiss before you interlock your fingers, knowing she liked to play with your hand when she felt nervous or simply wanted to be calmed down. “But we need to go to the bathroom to clean up,” you whisper after you feel as though she’s savoured the moment enough, catching the way her body seemed to be relaxing a little too much as sleep threatened to overtake her, her body melting at the warmth and love your presence provided her.

Begrudgingly, Wanda took your hand as you coaxed her out of your bed, your hands snaking around her waist naturally as you guided her to your ensuite to clean the two of you up, gently using a cloth to wipe her down whilst pressing loving kisses to her forehead, showering her with love as you noticed the blush and smile that crept onto her lips at being cared for. You simply gave her everything she had craved for years, the praise, the gentle murmurs, your hands treating her with nothing but tenderness as they caressed her body and tended to her. You also made sure the two of you drank enough water before leaving the bathroom, offering her one of your sleep shirts to which she declined, softly murmuring how she wanted to sleep with you naked, yearning for the intimacy of the cuddles of your bare skin pressed so comfortably against hers.

Your lips pulled up into a smile at her delicate and adorable tone as you indulged in her wants, eventually getting back into bed with her and pulling her impossibly closer to you, your limbs getting tangled under the duvet as she snuggled further against you, sighing against your skin. Her hands slid around your waist, fingers mindlessly tracing random patterns against your back as your fingers threaded through her auburn locks, gently scratching her scalp and smiling at the pleased groan that left her at the relaxing sensation, her body shuffling closer to you.

“I love you,” Wanda whispered after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence that had enveloped the two of you, her breath tickling your skin as she nuzzled closer to the crook of your neck, basking in the warmth of your body as she placed another delicate kiss to your skin, trying to express the overwhelming emotions she had for you. It was impossible for her to describe, the world around her fading away when she was with you, the wounds inside her healing when she felt your loving touch or lingering stare, her heart longing to remember this moment forever as the love swirling inside her was undeniable and all consuming, cementing the fact that this was where she belonged. She belonged with you.

“I love you too,” you murmur with as much care as you could muster, your lips pressing to the top of her hair as you melt into the embrace, your heart wrapped in love and joy as you savoured the moment with her, finally living a moment you had dreamed of for so many years. “I’ll be here when you wake up, go to sleep love,” you coo as you can feel her body fighting the tiredness that washed over her, a drowsy noise escaping her which only filled your chest with more warmth, a tenderness wrapping around the two.

Soon enough, the two of you drifted off to a peaceful sleep, your silent embrace conveying more than words could ever describe as you sank further into one another, reflecting the endless love you shared as your souls reconnected, finding a sense of safety in each other's arms and finally feeling as though you had found your home.

---

I absolutely spoiled you guys with this🤭

As heavily requested, I'll be writing both epilogue smut scenes and I hope you enjoyed the first one! You better have paced yourselves with this as I have no idea when the next one will be written, so savour these 10k words pls😭

Also in case anyone is an Arcane fan, I have briefly started a Caitvi oneshot collection if you want to check it out on Ao3! <3

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes/kudos <3 I really appreciate all of your support!

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

Wattpad- LovePersevering2

Tumblr- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger3000

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nobtities · 8 months ago

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last art dump before i get into my academics again,, KNOW YOUR ROOTS EVERYONE BEFORE AGATAHARIO WE HAD WANDA AND AGATHA..... and yes i did color agathas hair purple instead of brown, fight me

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #rio vidal #agathario #wagatha #wandavision #AAAAAAAAACKKDDKSKSKSKSK #BOTTOM RIO X TOP AGATHA #TOP AGATHA?? X SWITCH WANDA???

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florencebirdsong · 7 months ago

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Not only do I need Agatha/Rio/Wanda but I also need Reader in there too

#birdsong sings #I have PlansTM but I’m not confident in writing Rio just yet #I’m think switch aka depends on scenario and mood but like all of them together??#Must think #agatha all along #agatha harkness #wanda m.#rio v.#agatha h.#rio vidal #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio dival #agatha harkness x rio vidal x reader #wanda maximoff x agatha harkness #wanda maximoff x agatha Harkness x rio vidal #wanda maximoff x agatha Harkness x rio vidal x reader

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wandasaura · 1 year ago

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okay hear me out… dom!wanda x switch!natasha, but wanda’s not willing to sub to nat so they form an agreement that natasha can get herself a sugar baby. you absolutely despise wanda (or at least you try and convince yourself that you do) but slowly she starts working her way into your heart and your pussy when she takes over during aftercare if nat has to go to the bathroom, or when she sits in on natasha fucking your brains out because she just can’t help herself and it almost always ends with her getting her hands on a piece of you as well. it all comes to a head when you disobey natasha, and simultaneously insult wanda, that your true feelings really begin to show themselves. natasha lets wanda punish you how she sees fit, and you learn very quickly that wanda’s not as forgiving as your daddy is, but you just can’t help but crave her hands on you, especially after she’s worked you over so good you can barely even remember your name. and natasha’s just smug as fuck about it because she knows that you’ve always had a crush on wanda, and she knows that it was only a matter of time before wanda corrected her little brat the right way.

#wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #mommy wanda #daddy natasha #dom!wanda maximoff #switch!natasha romanoff #[ ꔫ ] — drabbles #n: drabbles #girlfriend ꕤ #library 🂱#minors dni ৎ୭

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notyouraverageswitch · 7 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ About me ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

❍⌇─➭ welcome ﹀﹀︵↷

✯ Hello there you can call me Ley.

✯ I am a switch. This blog though is so I can let my sub side out.

✯ My ask box is open for conversations of the sweet and dirty variety. You can send me any fantasies you have or rp with me if I'm comfortable. I'd like to talk a bit first before just diving in.

✯ DMs are open, but I might not answer for a variety of reasons.

✯ I am a soft dom. Can I handle a brat? Yes. Do I want to? No.

✯ I am a lesbian who enjoys the company of women, nonbinaries, and trans folk (both ftm and mtf)

Under my read more will be my limits and rules! Please read them before interacting with me! If they are ignored then I will block.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Anons ᯓᡣ𐭩

🥀 〔11/17, 18 she/he/they switch〕

🌵 〔11/18, 19, she/her, sub〕

🐨 〔11/26, 30, she/her,sub〕

👻 〔12/7, 18, she/he/they, switch〕

❄️〔12/14, 20, they/them, sub〕

🛁〔12/25, 32, she/her, switch〕

💒〔3/19, 21, she/they, sub〕

Yes : Piss, breeding, begging, collar/leash play, bondage, edging, overstim, forced orgasm, exhibitionism, pet play (soft and heavy), somno, free use, blood play, breath play, markings, clamps, slapping

No: Leather, latex, deepthroating, anal, 24/7, hypno, cheating, scat, caning, belts, beatings, torture of any kind, cishet men

RULES:

→ When DMing me I'd rather keep it impersonal. If you want to play we can go over what you like and do a scene. I'm not here to help you with your problems.

→When wanting to claim an emoji I'd like your age, pronouns, and if you're a Dom, sub, or Switch

→As stated previously I am a switch. Sometimes I may feel one over the other or I might switch mid scene. That's just how I am. Don't expect me to always be one or the other.

→I will share pictures when I want. I will not show my face, Do not ask.

→When DMing me I will check your blog. Blank, ageless, and cishet men will be blocked.

Pictures aren't mine

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disneyprincesssinhogwarts · 7 months ago

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Ok maybe unpopular opinion here and spoilers for the season finale of Agatha All Along.

Can I just say I’m so glad they didn’t bring Wanda back in the finale. Like there were so many people who were just absolutely convinced that this show was going to be marvels way of bringing her back even after Billy kept saying she specifically wasn’t his mother and I’m really glad that isn’t the direction the show went. Like am I a Wanda hater? Yes. Is that the only reason I didn’t want her to come back? No it was the main one I won’t deny that but it’s not the only reason. If she had come back I feel it would cheapen Billy’s relationship with his “adopted” parents and the relationship he had with Tommy. Tommy being his goal really accentuates that He was the reason Billy was doing all of this in the first place and that he meant that much to Billy. Like give me the my siblings mean the world to me over I want the parents I’ve never met any day.

Also that entire section of episode 9 with Agatha and Nicky made me sob so kudos to all the people involved in making this masterpiece honestly.

#agatha all along #rio vidal #agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #if I’m being honest my Wanda hate is entirely based on her first appearance #like I’ve hated her from the beginning and it just doesn’t feel honest to switch opinions #commit to the bit #billy kaplan #billy maximoff #nicholas scratch #the witches road #people are going to be so mad that this isn’t what happened #everyone loves the show until their predictions aren’t right #honestly waiting for the angry rants later #I don’t want Wanda lovers to cry but…

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 11 months ago

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Bound by Desire

If they call it sin how come she loves me like a saint? (2)

Dom!Natasha x switch!Wanda x subby!brat!fem!reader

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: Natasha and Wanda have been in a happy and healthy BDSM relationship for years, but have been looking for a third for Wanda's sake. When they meet you, they might have gotten more than they bargained for.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Nat=39, Wanda=35, Reader=22, BDSM relationship, dom!nat, switch!Wanda, sub!reader, Daddy!nat, Mommy!Wanda, strap use(r receiving), bondage (more will be added as things occur)

Authors Note: My first smut bit in a long time. Felt good to write it again, but I think a lot of this is gonna be more fluffy/hurt/comfort....maybe some angst from here for a bit.

You stared down at all the papers, books, and figures sitting on the counter. The longer you looked the more everything felt like it wasn't making sense anymore. You'd been in the kitchen all morning studying for midterms. Your eyes were starting to hurt as you pushed your palms into your eye sockets.

You barely heard Natasha until she was almost to the kitchen. Turning slightly to look at her. It was Saturday so the redhead was in sweatpants and a tank top yet somehow she still managed to make your core throb as your eyes rake over her biceps.

“Still studying Pchelka?” Her husky voice tickles your ears.

“I don't know if you could call this studying anymore. The more I look the less sense everything is making right now.” As you sink against the chair you hear her saunter over.

Her arms wrap around your shoulders, her chin resting on top of your head. Your cheeks flush as you feel her tits press against your back.

She looks over your work. Pointing out little things, her slender fingers captivating your attention. Her words become distant and yet somehow wrapping you up, putting you in that fuzzy headspace you've started becoming accustomed to.

She moves; her face coming in your peripheral. You feel a little too hazy right now to focus on anything except her fingers.

“Oh puppy, was that all it took today?” Natasha's voice drops making you fall ever so further.

Your hands are already reaching for hers. No resistance is met as you pick her hand up and bring her finger to your mouth. “Please Daddy? Need you…” You mumble around her fingers.

You weren't sure how she did it, but she was carrying you down to the bedroom, you could feel the bulge of Natasha's strap through her sweats and you instinctively rolled your hips.

She sets you onto the floor when you get to the bedroom. The simple command, “Strip.” Being all you needed. Your clothes came off into neat piles. It was a rule of Natasha's that if she ever asked for you to strip it was to be done quickly, but neatly.

When you looked up she was standing in just her boxer briefs, her bulge on display and tits perfectly staring you down.

She reached out, taking your little pile and set them on the dresser. “On the bed puppy.”

You eagerly got up, sitting pretty for her. It hadn't been too long, only a few months you'd been doing this, though it was long enough to know how Natasha wanted you.

She smiled at your eagerness as she made her way to you. Slowly making her way in front of you. Once she's in front of you, you can't help but smile. Eyes still blown like a deer in headlights and you might as well be with Nat.

She cups your cheeks gently, a soft smile on her face as she pulls you in and kisses you. Your hands find her chest as you melt against her.

She pulls back, moving you onto your back as she gets between your legs. You can feel her hot breath on your clit before her warm tongue moves through your folds. Her lips closing around your clit to tease at it.

Your center is completely soaked and glistening in the light of the midday sun coming through the skylights and showing off the slick that's made its way to your thighs. Soft moans and whimpers are falling from your lips. One of your hands tangling in her hair and the other fitting at the silk sheets beneath you.

Natasha moans into you, sending a shiver through you. Your breathing picked up as she wrapped an arm around your waist. She was holding you there as she started to bring you to that edge you wanted to fall over.

You were too focused on her tongue when you felt her push two fingers into you and now you knew the real reason she was holding you there. Her fingers and tongue moved in tandum.

“Fuck…ah…Daddy! Daddy can I cum? Please?” You pleaded with her. Eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“Go on puppy. Cum.” Her husky voice is truly what sent you over the edge. The waves of pleasure wash over you.

Before you could even recover from the first Natasha is pushing her strap past your folds and stretching you out. A loud moan coming out of you as you grip onto her biceps as she puts you in a mating press.

She looks down at you, your eyes completely black from how blown they are. “You needed this so badly didn't you? Just a bitch in heat who needed to be fucked brainless by Daddy?” Her voice was deeper and more husky than even a few moments ago.

“Yes! Yes Daddy! can I cum? M'please Daddy!”

“That's it pup. Go ahead, mmm fuck…go ahead.” You feel apart beneath her. Tightening around her as you gushed over her cock and stomach.

Natasha groans as you feel her release into you, her cum filled strap filling you up. A long satisfied moan coming from you as your back arched. Your eyes closing as she slowly pulls out. She bites her lip admiring her work as she watches you drip for a moment before going to grab a towel to clean you up along with some other aftercare items.

°○°○°○°○°

When Wanda came home the house was quiet. She had called out for both of you, but got no response. She furrowed her brow as she slipped her heels off from the day. Taking notice that all shoes were accounted for.

As she walked further into the house she took notice of all your notes spread across the kitchen island. A small smile spreads across her face at how hard you always work. Though still no sign of you or her wife.

She headed up the stairs after not finding you two anywhere downstairs. Checking both offices first and then heading to the bedroom. That's where she found you two.

You were half on top of Natasha. Leg and arm thrown over her. Your legs tangled together. She had managed to get you both in tank tops. Her back in her boxer briefs and you in your panties.

Wanda smiles down at the two of you, sinking down onto the bed. Natasha being a light sleeper, opened her eyes. Looking over to see her wife made her smile.

“Привет, любовь всей моей жизни.” (Hello love of my life) she whispered as Wanda leaned in for a kiss.

“��ам обоим было весело?” (Did you two have fun?) Wanda whispered against her wife's lips before pulling back, looking down at your sleeping form and pushing some hair out of your face. Making you sturdy slightly, but settle back in.

“She needed a break from studying.” Natasha smiled down at you. “Needed Daddy's help emptying that pretty head of hers.”

Wanda gently ran her fingers through your hair, scratching just behind your ear as a content smile spread across your face in your sleep.

“She's so special Tasha…I don't think she realizes the extent that we actually feel for her.” Wanda's voice was soft as Natasha rubbed her wife's back.

“She will soon, moya lyubov.” The two women smiled at each other before Nat pulled Wanda against her to join in the cuddles.

Slowly the sun fell towards the horizon and sure there was more studying to do, dinner to be made, and documents to look over, but for right now none of you wanted this perfect moment to end.

Taglist:

@godhatesgoodgirls

@itsalwaysskorpioszn

@boredandneedfanfics

@siljuskaz

@noturlondonboy

@tobiaslut

@alexawynters

#ley writes #ley writes series #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha romanoff #switch!wanda maximoff #sub!fem!reader #bratty!fem!reader #rich couple!wandanat #wandanat x fem!reader #wandanat x you #wandanat x reader #wandanat x y/n #wandanat #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader

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bishovapls · 23 days ago

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Our Little One - It Was Just Fate.

Relationships: Natasha Romanoff & Wanda Maximoff & Reader

Summary: This prologue/prequel to 'You Make Such Pretty Sounds When You’re Sorry' and 'I Think You Both Need Daddy, Hm?' dives into the reader’s introduction to kink, guided by a close friend. Their first attempt at exploring the culture takes an unexpected turn, but it sets the stage for their connection with Wanda and Natasha. As they navigate the complexities of their budding relationship, they face challenges that test them all. And of course, we need a bit of smut, so we see their first time together. Expect emotional struggles, discovery, and the messy beginnings of the 'Our Little One' universe.

Warnings: 18+, Mommy Kink, Daddy Kink, Age Gap (Older WandaNat/Younger Reader), BDSM, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Cunnilingus, Safe Words & Check-ins, Kink Negotiation, Self-Esteem Issues, Innocent Reader, Light Angst (but with a happy ending), Allusion to previous abuse.

A/N: Posting this on my birthday, so if you hate it, just remember, no mean comments allowed. I don't make the rules, I just live by them. I know this is long, probably way more than you bargained for, but hey, I cut it down a lot, so really, it could be worse. Also, thank you to @chansawrelier for the request!

Word Count: 21,299

NSFW below the cut, you can also read on AO3.

You’d moved across the country for college, leaving behind a home that had never really felt like one. It hadn’t been an easy decision, but it was a necessary one, something between escape and survival. You arrived early, more than a week before classes began, eager to settle into the dorms and put some distance between yourself and everything you were trying to forget.

By some stroke of luck, your roommate had moved in early, too. Apparently, her loft on the other side of the city had burned down in a freak accident, and she flat-out refused to move back in with her mother.

Kate Bishop was everything you hadn’t even dared to hope for in a roommate: funny, grounded, genuinely kind. She made you feel like maybe you weren’t entirely alone in this strange, unfamiliar place. She’d grown up in New York, had an entire life here already, complete with a close-knit group of friends and a girlfriend named Yelena.

You’d only met Yelena a few times, but she made an impression, slightly older, striking, with a dry wit and a thick accent that made everything she said sound twice as cool. She’d already finished college, and now ran a chain of martial arts studios across the city.

But one thing that had truly shocked you was their dynamic when they were alone. Coming from a small town with no clue about college etiquette, you hadn’t thought twice about the sock on the door handle of your dorm. Headphones in, music blasting, you’d returned late one night from your favourite café and pushed the door open with a casual, “Hey, Kate—”

And froze.

Yelena was strapped to Kate’s narrow bed, wrists and ankles bound to the corners, her body completely exposed and vulnerable. Kate was straddling her in a panic, trying hopelessly to shield her girlfriend’s nakedness with her own body. You froze in the doorway, eyes wide, breath caught, the scene burning itself into your mind before instinct took over. You spun around and ran, heart pounding, feet flying.

It took two full days of pretending nothing had happened before it finally cracked. You hadn’t meant to say anything, you were determined not to. You’d buried it deep, shoved it behind textbooks and playlists and pointless walks to nowhere, trying to suffocate it under a hundred different distractions.

But the memory kept clawing its way back. Not of them, not really. Not Kate or Yelena as people. It wasn’t about attraction. It was the feeling of what they were doing. The heat that pooled in your stomach when you remembered the way Yelena had looked beneath Kate, the weightless calm in her limbs, the glow behind her eyes, even though you’d barged in on them in such an intimate moment.

You couldn't stop thinking about it.

But tonight, Kate insisted (more like begged) that you go to the big pre-semester party. So you’d gone. You’d drunk more than you meant to. And now, hours later, the dorm room was gently swaying around you, the overhead light was off, and everything was bathed in the soft, amber spill of the desk lamp.

Kate looked like she’d been sculpted into relaxation. Her legs were tangled in a blanket, her flannel half-buttoned and slipping from one shoulder, and her phone was held loosely in her hand. But every few seconds, her gaze darted up. You didn’t have to see it to feel it.

The tension curled in the air between you like smoke. Eventually, she let out a long, theatrical sigh that broke the quiet. Tossed her phone onto the bed and sat up, cracking her neck like she was about to start a fight.

“Okay, you’ve officially out-brooded me,” she said, tone somewhere between amused and exasperated. “And I once spent a whole summer listening to nothing but Lana Del Rey. So. Spill. What’s going on in that tragic little head of yours?”

You gave a hollow sort of laugh, too tight, too dry. “Nothing’s wrong. I'm fine.”

Kate raised one eyebrow slowly, unimpressed. “Right. Because the whole ‘I’m fine’ routine goes so well with the thousand-yard stare. C’mon, what’s actually going on?”

Your heart kicked like a trapped animal. You hated this pressure, this feeling like your body was shrinking in on itself. Your arms curled tighter around the blanket, your hands clenched hard enough that your knuckles ached.

“Is it something I did?” she asked, and her voice changed. It was gentler, even coaxing. “Or said?”

“No. No, it’s not that,” you said quickly, the words falling out too fast. Your head snapped up, eyes wide, terrified she’d misunderstood. You needed her to know it wasn’t her.

She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing with soft focus, studying you like you were a puzzle with one piece missing. “Then what is it?”

Your mouth opened. Nothing came. Your jaw clenched as your fingers dug deeper into the blanket. Her tone turned almost tender. “You’ve been weird since Tuesday.”

You flinched like the word itself slapped you. It landed with terrifying accuracy.

Kate’s eyes flickered, amusement already curling at her mouth before the full realisation even landed. “Ohhh,” she said, drawing the word out with a grin, her tone all too knowing. “This is about the sock on the door, isn’t it?”

Heat surged up your neck and into your cheeks, spreading fast. Your ears burned, your stomach turned. “Kate—”

She groaned, flopping back against her pillow with a theatrical sigh, even as her grin widened. “God, I told Yelena the sock was a shit idea! I literally said we needed a better system. I said we should’ve just gone back to hers.”

You buried your face in your hands, your voice muffled and miserable. “I didn’t mean to walk in. I didn’t know what it meant.”

“No, clearly not. You looked like you’d witnessed a murder. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone move so fast,” she said with a huff of laughter.

“I panicked,” you muttered, not lifting your head.

“You literally threw yourself into the corridor,” she corrected, another chuckle spilling out as she sat up again, trying to pull you into the warmth of the moment.

“I panicked,” you said again, but this time your voice cracked on the word. It came out too thin, too small. Your breath caught.

The laughter vanished from Kate’s face in an instant, her expression tightening with concern. “Hey. I’m messing with you, but if it really freaked you out…” Her voice came quieter now, steadier, threaded with something that sounded like guilt. “If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll talk to Yelena, and—”

“No.” The word shot out, too loud, too harsh. You winced immediately. “No, it’s not that. I just…”

You looked down. Your hands were trembling. Kate didn’t speak. She waited. You hadn’t known her long, but she already knew you, your silences, your defence mechanisms, the way you got brittle before you broke.

Finally, your voice emerged, hollow. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

She blinked. That wasn’t the answer she’d expected, clearly. You surged on before the fear could catch you.

“Not like that,” you said fast, too fast, your words tangling in each other. “I’m not…into you, or Yelena, or anything like that. I just…I keep seeing it. You and her. And it didn’t look scary, or weird. It looked…right. Like it made sense. Like that’s where you were supposed to be.”

Kate’s entire face shifted, something warm and open blooming across her features. She looked almost reverent, like the thought alone settled something deep inside her. “Yeah,” she said, slow and certain. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

You stared at her, overwhelmed. “That’s not normal, though, is it?” Your voice cracked at the edges, shame clinging to it like soot.

“Who told you that?” she asked, voice flatter now, more guarded.

You hesitated. “No one. I just feel like a freak. I can’t stop thinking about it. Something about it felt familiar. Like…like it scratched some itch I didn’t know I had.”

Kate’s smile was so gentle it barely reached her mouth. But her eyes were all compassion. “That doesn’t make you a freak. That makes you self-aware.”

You groaned and hid again behind your hands. “This is so embarrassing. I want to crawl into a hole and just die.”

“No dying allowed,” she said, easy and light. “Also, not embarrassing. I’ve had this kind of conversation, like, four times. One girl sobbed. One guy made a spreadsheet. You’re doing great.”

You huffed out a soft, stunned laugh. Still didn’t look at her. Your eyes locked on your knees. “How did you know? That you were into all of…that?”

Kate blinked once. Then she smiled, slow and steady. “All of what, exactly?” Her voice dipped teasingly. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, babe. I’m into a lot of stuff.”

You laughed nervously. “You know what I mean.” You swallowed. “I’ve never done anything like that. My past hookups were all really…vanilla. Very, very, missionary-with-the-lights-off vanilla.”

Kate wrinkled her nose in mock-disgust. “Yikes. That is bleak.”

“It was. But this…I don’t know. It’s been in my head since.” You faltered. The moment had gotten too big again. You shrank from it. “This is weird. Let’s just sleep?”

Kate studied you for a second longer, then spoke. It was quiet, but there was a sterness to it. “Hey. Look at me?”

Your head turned before you even thought about it. Eyes locking with hers like it was instinct.

Kate didn’t say anything for a beat. But her face changed. Just a flicker. A quiet realisation before she eventually spoke. “Okay,” she said softly, mostly to herself.

Your heart leapt. “What?”

She shrugged, lips twitching, clearly holding back a grin. “Just answering my own question.”

You frowned. “What question?”

She grinned now, wicked and amused. “Which side you’re on.”

Your stomach plummeted, and your heart raced. “What does that even mean?”

She tilted her head, her voice low and playful. “I mean…me or Yelena. Domme or Sub. The one doing the tying or the one getting tied.” She paused, watching you closely. “You didn’t even think about it. You just looked at me. That’s kind of a giveaway.”

You groaned, mortified. “Don’t analyse me.”

She laughed, bright and delighted. “Too late. I already diagnosed you with chronic obedience.”

You covered your face again, but this time the trembling in your hands didn’t stop the laughter bubbling up.

Kate let the moment sit for a second. Then she leaned forward again, voice soft but sincere. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. You don’t even have to do anything with it. But if you ever want to talk about what it means, what it doesn’t, I’m here. No judgement.”

You looked up slowly. Cautious. But grateful. Kate met your gaze with a small nod. “I’ve got you.”

—

You and Kate had gone to bed not long after the conversation, nerves buzzing under your skin, alcohol humming through your blood, and a restless curiosity settling somewhere low in your stomach.

By morning, the haze had lifted a little, but the curiosity remained. You barely had to ask before Kate was sitting cross-legged across from you, all easy confidence and unfiltered honesty, rattling off explanations like it was the most normal thing in the world. She walked you through the foundations of it all, kinks and limits, power dynamics, aftercare.

She explained safe words, how communication was everything, and how trust wasn’t optional; it was the entire point. She even introduced you to the traffic light system, green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop.

And then, she gave you the most terrifying suggestion of all: a lesbian kink club.

She brought it up so casually, like it was just another bullet point on her list. You’d balked, of course, wide-eyed and uncertain, but Kate just shrugged and smiled, patient as ever.

She promised it wasn’t what you were imagining, no horror stories, no unchecked chaos, no pressure. “This place is serious,” she said, “It’s safe. Everything’s built around consent and control, and no one will touch you without a hell of a lot of permission. You don’t even have to speak if you don’t want to. Just watch. That’s what most new people do.”

Still, when you asked if she’d come with you, she hesitated. “I can’t,” she said eventually, with a wry smile. “Yelena would lose her mind. And no domme would even come near you if you were with me. They know me, and they know I don’t share.”

You blinked at her, confused. “But you’re not—”

She held up a hand. “I know. But that’s not how it works there. People respect boundaries, so if I walked in with a pretty new sub, they’d assume I’d claimed you, like I did Yelena, and steer clear.”

Your face burned red at the idea of being claimed, along with the subtle ‘pretty’ she had thrown in there. You knew it wasn't flirty and was more of a joke, but the thought of being seen as pretty made your breath stutter a bit.

But before you could think too much about that, she laughed a little sheepishly then. “Plus, I have been known to growl like a rabid dog when someone flirts with Yelena. Even without the rules, I'm pretty sure they'd stay away out of fear of grievous bodily harm.”

You laughed then, the tension easing slightly, but still, the idea of going without Kate made your chest tighten.

But Kate had been insistent. “You don’t have to do anything. Just go. Watch. No one will touch you unless you say yes. And if it gets too much, you leave. Simple.”

She'd made it sound manageable. Even safe. She talked about safe, sane, consensual like it was gospel, and maybe, for her, it was. And the way she spoke about it made it hard not to believe her.

—

From the very first time you’d wandered into Wanda’s cafe, drawn by the aroma of fresh pastries and coffee, you’d known this place was going to be your refuge. The mismatched mugs, the wild greenery curling down from hanging pots and over windowsills, the gently worn furniture that seemed to have stories soaked into the wood, it all felt like a place you were allowed to exhale in.

You’d started coming to the café nearly every time Kate was out with her friends, and you’d refused to join her, which, given how often that was, meant you were there a lot.

Wanda, whose name you had learned on your second visit, wasn’t always there, but when she was, you noticed, and for some reason, it would make your sanctuary even better. There was a soft warmth in the way she’d glance at you from behind the counter.

And when you’d been there for hours, nursing your fourth cup of coffee for the day, Wanda would always notice. “You need to eat something, darling,” she’d say gently, setting a pastry and a glass of water down in front of you with a soft smile. “It’s lovely seeing you in here so often, but that much coffee with no food or water? Not on my watch.” Her tone was teasing, but there was a kindness beneath it that made you feel cared for in a way you weren’t used to.

And every time that happened, your face would burn, heat spreading all the way to your ears, and you’d have to lower your gaze to hide the way your mouth betrayed you, unable to form a proper thank you.

And that was how, on a slow Saturday afternoon, you once again found yourself curled into your usual corner booth, tucked safely behind your laptop and a growing stack of notes. You’d told yourself you were going to be productive, that today would be about distraction. And judging by the five colour-coded drafts of your class timetable and the frankly absurd amount of early required reading you’d powered through, you’d managed, for a while.

But eventually, your focus had begun to slip. No matter how hard you tried to drown it in academic preparation, your thoughts kept drifting, again and again, to tonight. To the club.

You did want to go. You were curious, drawn to it in a way you didn’t fully understand. But you weren’t exactly the most social person on the best of days, and this wasn’t some casual night out with your new bestie Kate. You didn’t know what to expect. You barely knew the rules. And for someone who’d only just begun to glimpse that part of themselves, who still hesitated to name the things they wanted, the whole thing felt impossibly big.

You were still debating if you could handle it when the soft chime of the café door snapped you out of your spiral. Your fingers stilled on your cup, and something in your chest jumped, an involuntary reaction you’d become embarrassingly familiar with.

It was her again.

You didn’t know her name. You didn’t want to know her name. You weren’t looking. Not really. You just…noticed her. Every time.

You kept your eyes on your screen, or tried to, though it was hard not to notice the way she slipped behind the counter like she belonged there. And maybe she did, because even the very first time you saw her, you’d noticed how Wanda leaned into her, soft and familiar, how the redhead’s hand settled at the small of her back like it was second nature. You’d caught the way Wanda tilted her face down ever so slightly, unthinking, offering a kiss that was less a greeting and more a ritual.

And still, you told yourself you weren’t watching. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop either. You just couldn’t help overhearing.

“Are we still going to that place your sister suggested tonight?” Wanda’s voice was casual, but bright. There was a hopefulness in it that made you glance up again without meaning to.

The redhead didn’t answer immediately. Her body shifted, spine straightening. Her expression didn’t change, not really, but the vibe of her turned cooler, more guarded.

“You sure we need this?” she asked finally, voice low, cautious. “You know what happened last time.”

You shouldn’t have been listening. You told yourself you weren’t. But your hand was still on your coffee cup, unmoving, your laptop screen long since forgotten.

“It’s different this time,” Wanda replied. Her hand came up to rest on Natasha’s shoulder, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of her sleeve, a soft comfort you imagined. “You know that.”

Natasha didn’t answer, but she didn’t pull away either.

Then Wanda leaned closer, her voice dropping into something quieter, and even though you knew you shouldn’t, you tilted just slightly forward to hear. “We go,” she said, “we see what it’s like. And if it doesn’t work out…” she trailed off, then smiled, and there was something wicked and warm in it all at once. “I’ll let you ruin me as revenge. Deal?”

Natasha’s breath hitched. So did yours. You stared hard at the screen in front of you, suddenly too aware of your own skin, of the heat climbing up your neck and settling behind your ears.

You took a long sip of coffee, letting the bitterness settle on your tongue, focusing on the heat of the cup cradled between your palms like it might tether you. It didn’t help, at least, not in the way you wanted.

But thinking about them, about the quiet ease between them, the way Wanda’s eyes softened when the redhead leaned in close, or the way that touch lingered a little longer than necessary, was its own kind of distraction.

A quiet ache bloomed, low in your chest. You’d never had anything like that, you might never, and you hated how easily that thought lodged itself inside you. Still, it was something to focus on. Better, at least, than the spiralling nerves about tonight.

—

You’d made it to the club, barely after spending hours spiralling over your outfit, changing again and again until you were out of time and excuses. But the moment you arrived, you couldn’t move. People flowed in around you like it was nothing. They moved as if they’d been born knowing how to exist in places like this.

Your heart pounded too fast, thudding against your ribs like it was trying to escape. Your fingers clenched tighter around the strap of your bag. Every part of you was begging to turn around, to run, before anyone noticed you didn’t belong.

“Hey. You,” you heard. You didn’t look up. It was New York, someone was always yelling, always calling out to someone who wasn’t you.

Except this time, it was. “Yeah, you,” the voice called again, laced with amusement. “Pretty skirt, face that screams ‘please get me the hell out of here’ , you planning to actually come inside, or just admire the door all night?”

Your head snapped up so fast it made your earrings shift.

The woman by the door was clearly amused, her arms folded as she leaned against the rope like she had all the time in the world. Her name tag read Rio, bold against the tight black security tee stretched across her chest.

“C’mon,” she drawled, tilting her head toward the door, a dark curl falling across her brow as she looked you over. “You’ve been out here long enough to grow roots. What’s the hold up?”

You managed a breath that might’ve been a laugh, or a plea for help. Nothing coherent left your mouth, just a twitch of your lips that was closer to panic than a smile.

Rio grinned, like she’d seen it all before and still found it mildly entertaining. “Ah, first time?”

You nodded, small and tight, the motion barely there as your stomach flipped itself inside out.

She let that hang for a beat, then tipped her chin at you again, this time with a glint of something warmer behind the sharpness in her eyes. “Well, chill out. You look good. Real good. And no one’s gonna bite, unless you ask real nice.”

Her brow arched, deliberately suggestive, but the teasing was light, like a nudge rather than a push.

Then, without making a thing of it, she unhooked the velvet rope and stepped aside. Her posture stayed easy, but her voice shifted, just a little softer, just enough to catch you. “Go on, cutie. You’ve got this.”

And somehow, heart hammering and logic nowhere to be found, your feet started moving. You ducked past her, still not entirely sure how you’d managed it, but knowing her smirk was burning the back of your neck as you went.

—

As soon as you stepped inside, the air shifted, cool, smooth, and immediately heavy with the scent of expensive perfume mixed with something faintly sweaty. The lighting was soft, muted golden hues casting shadows that seemed to wrap around the room like a whisper.

Everything was plush, refined, velvet drapes, dark mahogany wood floors that gleamed in the dim light, and sleek, modern furniture that looked both inviting and intimidating.

There were no wild strobe lights or neon signs; instead, the atmosphere was intimate in a way that made you feel like you were being gently observed, as if everyone here was comfortable with who they were and what they wanted.

They seemed to float through the space, dressed in a refined mix of leather, silk, lace, and tailored suits, each one exuding a quiet confidence that you had yet to find in yourself.

Then your eyes caught on the stage across the room, where a strikingly pale woman with strawberry blonde hair stood in sleek black leather. Beside her was another woman, dark hair tumbling in soft waves, green eyes gleaming under the lights, dressed in a delicate lace bodice that clung to her like it had been stitched directly onto her skin.

The sub seemed at ease, almost meditative, as the flogger began to make contact with her in a rhythmic pattern. It wasn’t crude, wasn’t sexual in the way you expected. It was educational, like they were teaching the crowd about trust, boundaries, and the delicate balance of pain and pleasure.

It was…oddly beautiful, and you found yourself watching for longer than you’d intended. But the longer you stood there, the more overwhelmed you felt, the more your mind raced to catch up. This wasn’t the world you knew, nor a world you’d ever really imagined. It was intimidating, but still also oddly inviting.

Your feet moved before you even realised, carrying you to the bar without thinking. The low hum of the room, the muffled sound of the flogger against skin from the demonstration, the soft laughter of women chatting in hushed tones, all seemed to blur as you found yourself gripping the cool marble counter.

The bartender, a woman with sharp eyes and an air of authority, glanced up at you as you approached, studying you for a moment before offering a small, knowing smile. “I think you might need something strong, hon?” she asked, her voice understanding, and you nodded, trying to calm the frantic thudding of your heart.

You could still hear the demonstration in the distance, the faint swish of the flogger and the calm voice explaining the technique, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look back. Instead, you focused on the glass being placed in front of you, the cool condensation from the drink briefly grounding you. You took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol mingling with the nervous tremor in your hands, your mind still racing.

—

When you arrived, you had promised yourself that you’d stay for at least two hours, give it a proper try, sit with the discomfort, and push through it. You weren’t going to bolt the second it got hard.

Over the last hour and a half, three different women had approached you, spaced out just far enough to make it feel like a fresh humiliation each time. They’d come over with smiles, kind, confident, curious, trying to draw you into conversation, asking your name, what brought you here.

And you’d tried, you really had, forcing your lips into a shape resembling a smile, giving them answers that barely skimmed the surface of coherent, until the pauses got longer, the polite smiles more strained, and eventually, they moved on.

You already struggled to believe you were enough in your everyday life. Add way too many drinks you definitely didn’t need, and an hour and a half of mounting self-consciousness, and the weight of it all started to press down on you. Every rejection, every silence, every glance that passed right over you, all congealed into something thick and sharp and awful in your chest.

And suddenly you were running.

When did you start running?

You didn’t even realise until your body collided with something solid, no… someone. Your body jolted to a stop, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob. A warm, steady grip closed around your upper arm.

You blinked through the tears in your eyes, and that’s when you saw her. The redhead from the café. Just as striking in the low amber light, head half-tilted, a crease forming between her brows. And next to her, Wanda.

You wanted to say something, but your mouth refused. Your throat clenched tight around the words. So you did the only thing your body would allow, you ran.

Again.

You wrenched your arm free, heart lurching in your chest as you burst through the door and back into the cold, chasing air and distance like they might save you.

“Hey! Hey, you okay, newbie?” Rio’s voice followed you, half-laughing, half-sharp with worry. But you didn’t turn around.

Your feet pounded the pavement, and your limbs shook as you ran. The wind tore at your hair, the cold sting of tears still fresh on your cheeks. Your mouth was dry, your lungs burning. You didn’t care where you were going, just that you needed to escape.

Down one street, then another. The world blurred around you, the hum of traffic, the lingering bass in your head, the tightness of your skirt, the sour taste of your drinks from earlier.

When your legs gave out, you stumbled into an alley, your back hitting the wall. The cold bricks bit through your tights, the wet chill sharpening every unbearable feeling. You slid to the ground, curling into yourself, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

Panic ripped through you, quiet and brutal, stealing your breath in shallow gasps as the world closed in.

You didn’t hear her coming. Not until her voice slipped through the haze, gentle, low, threaded with concern. “Hey, Sweetheart. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Wanda.

You knew it instantly, but you couldn’t lift your head. Even the soft warmth of her voice made your skin crawl with overstimulation. You stayed curled in on yourself, fingers digging into your sleeves, breath stuttering in shallow, uneven pulls.

“Look at me,” she urged, her voice firmer now. Her hands found your face, fingers gliding over your skin, coaxing your head up.

She saw the wet streaks down your face, the tremor in your lips, the glassy, unfocused eyes. Her expression shifted from shock to anger. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

A desperate shake of your head was all you could offer.

Beyond Wanda, the redhead stood in the alley’s mouth, arms crossed, watching in silence.

Wanda’s hands stayed on your face, grounding you. “Breathe with me,” she whispered. “In through the nose. Nice and slow.”

You wanted to say you knew what to do, that you’d been through this before. You knew all the things you were supposed to do: sit up straight, inhale for four, exhale for six, and ground yourself. But knowing didn’t mean doing. And right now, everything felt impossible.

Still, Wanda’s voice reached you. One breath. Then another. Your chest still trembled, but you followed. “That’s it,” she whispered, soothing. “You’re doing so well.”

She stayed until your hands stopped shaking, until your tears slowed. When your body finally gave in, she gently lifted your chin. Worry softened her gaze, her touch too kind.

“Talk to me,” she said. “You looked like you were running from something awful. Please tell me what it was.”

You tried. But all you managed was a broken exhale, your voice tangled up somewhere too deep to reach.

And Wanda didn’t wait. She just pulled you against her chest, one hand holding the back of your head, the other rubbing slow, soothing circles along your back.

Eventually, Wanda’s voice broke the quiet, low and close to your ear. “You’re freezing, Honey.” Her arms tightened slightly, and you realised with a delayed shiver that the warmth you’d felt earlier wasn’t real, it had been panic, adrenaline, the flush of fear burning through your skin. Now that it had passed, all that was left was the cold.

“I’m okay,” you said, though the words came out hoarse and thin.

Her eyes didn’t move. “No,” she said quietly. “You’re not. And that’s okay. But let us walk you home?”

You shook your head slowly. “I’ll need to call an Uber, my dorm is on the other side of town. I’m fine. Really. Thank you, though…for everything.”

But the moment those words left your mouth, you saw something shift in her expression. Worry deepening into something more decisive, more stubborn. Like the idea of walking away from you now went against every instinct she had.

“No,” she said firmly. Then she paused, her eyes searching yours, her next words quieter, more careful. “Please, sweetheart. I don’t like the idea of you getting into a stranger’s car when you’re like this. It’s late. You’re not thinking clearly. You shouldn’t have to be. Let someone else take care of it. Of you. ”

“But I don’t want to ruin your night,” you whispered. “You were—” You didn’t finish the sentence. You didn’t need to.

Wanda blinked once, slowly. “You didn’t ruin anything,” she said. “We were going to leave anyway. That club wasn’t exactly our scene.”

You let out a short, breathless laugh. “It wasn't mine either.”

That earned you a smile, soft and crooked. “Figured that out when I saw you sprinting out of there like it was on fire.”

Your blush betrayed you before you could stop it, your face going hot in the cool night, the memory of the club still pressed against your skin. But it wasn’t just the awkwardness that flushed your cheeks. It was them. The realisation that if they weren't having fun tonight, Wanda had a promise to fulfil.

Wanda tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You shook your head violently, and your eyes darted anywhere but her face. Please, God, don’t make me explain.

Thankfully, she didn’t push. She just gave you a look full of curiosity and affection, and let it go. “Come back with us. We’ve got a spare room. You can shut the door and go straight to bed if you want. I just…I’d feel better knowing you were safe.”

You hesitated. Your eyes flicked toward the redhead, still by the alley’s mouth, still watching. She’d had no say in any of this, and you didn’t want to be the reason her night ended differently than planned. Especially not if it meant she wouldn’t get to ‘ruin ’ Wanda, as Wanda had put it.

But Wanda caught the glance and laughed under her breath. “Don’t worry about her. She knows I’ve got a soft spot for you. She definitely expected this.”

You flushed, hard. But before you could figure out what to say, the other woman's voice came from the end of the alley, as if she could hear the conversation. “Wanda. It’s cold. If she’s not walking in the next two minutes, I’m carrying her.”

“She doesn’t seem very happy,” you whispered.

Wanda giggled, unabashed. “That’s just Nat. You get used to it. But she won’t be happy if we don’t get moving, come on.”

She stood, holding out her hand. You took it. Her arm stayed around your shoulders as she walked you to the alley’s edge, back into the chill of the open street. The redhead gave you a long look as you approached, her smile clipped but still there.

It didn’t take long to reach their place, maybe ten or fifteen minutes of quiet walking. You didn’t speak much, still raw, but Wanda stayed close, her arm a steady weight around your shoulders, while the redhead, Nat, you thought, that’s what Wanda had called her, walked by her side.

Once inside, Wanda could tell you were exhausted. She guided you gently upstairs to a small but cosy guest room and handed you soft joggers and a loose T-shirt. The clothes were a little long in the leg and hung loose at the shoulders, but they were cosy, and they wrapped around you like safety.

You curled into the blankets, Wanda’s shirt tucked close around your chin, and let yourself drift off.

—

You felt it before you even opened your eyes. The heaviness behind them, dull and throbbing like something pressing in from the inside. A headache you recognised all too well, the post-panic kind, the one that settled in like bruises on your brain.

Your limbs ached, like you’d run miles. And your stomach rolled with the nauseating mix of nerves and the ghost of alcohol, sitting thick and unwelcome in your gut.

And then came the worst part, remembering exactly where you were, and who you were with.

You were in their house. Wanda’s house. And hers, too, the redhead, Nat, whatever her full name was. Not your dorm. Not your tiny, safe, familiar space with its cluttered desk and cheap sheets. Theirs.

You groaned quietly, dragging the covers over your head, as if hiding from the world might somehow cancel the impending awkwardness. You’d have to go downstairs eventually, face them, thank them, apologise for…well, everything. Just the thought made your stomach churn harder.

You’d barely managed to pull the covers tighter when a soft knock broke the quiet. You could ignore it. You could pretend you were still asleep. But instead, your voice came out small, almost reluctant. “Come in.”

The door eased open, and Wanda stepped inside, eyes scanning you with that same gentleness from the night before. You flushed with embarrassment. You must look like hell. Last night’s make-up was probably smudged to oblivion, your cheeks puffy, your hair a mess.

“I’m making breakfast,” she said, voice soft but careful, like she didn’t want to startle you. “Was wondering if you wanted to join us.”

You didn’t answer at first, brain still dragging behind, eyes squinting against the light slipping in through the doorway. And Wanda must’ve taken your silence as discomfort, because she rushed to fill it.

“I mean, you don’t have to. I can totally leave you alone if you’d rather sneak out, no pressure. Keep the clothes, obviously. I just…whatever makes you most comfortable.”

She smiled, but her eyes said something different. They said she didn’t want you to go.

You let out a dry, weak little laugh, more breath than sound, but Wanda’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Breakfast sounds good,” you murmured. “Thank you.”

Wanda brightened instantly, her relief written all over her face. “Okay, perfect. No rush, just come down when you’re ready, Sweetheart.”

She lingered in the doorway for a second, like she wanted to say more, then closed the door gently behind her as she left.

---

You stayed upstairs longer than you probably should have, sitting on the edge of the unfamiliar bed. But eventually, you hauled yourself up, made it to the bathroom, and stared down the mirror. Puffy eyes. Smeared mascara. Lips chapped and raw from worry and crying. You cringed and did the best with what you could.

When you made it downstairs, you hovered in the doorway for a moment. Wanda stood at the stove, hair swept up, swaying a little as she stirred. ‘Nat’ was lounging at the kitchen island with a mug half-raised, looking at you over the rim.

Wanda gave you a bright, welcoming smile. “Come sit by Natasha,” she said gently, nodding toward the empty stool.

Natasha. Huh. That was the name, then. Not just Nat . You hadn’t been sure if it was short for Natalie, Natalia, Natasha, or something else entirely.

Natasha gave a soft laugh, low and rough with sleep. “I promise I’m not that scary,” she said, one eyebrow lifting. “You can sit.”

You nearly choked on your own breath, cheeks going hot, and you shifted your eyes downwards. That slight rasp went straight to your spine. Still, you moved, wordless, and slid onto the stool beside her.

Wanda passed you a mug before you could even ask, and it was perfect. The right amount of milk, the exact strength you liked. Of course she remembered your order from the cafe.

“How’d you sleep?” Wanda asked after a beat, back still turned as she cooked.

“Fine. I think I passed out before my head hit the pillow,” you said with a soft laugh, trying to keep it casual.

Their chuckles came almost in sync. You could’ve clung to that sound, it made the kitchen feel less like enemy territory.

“Bet your head’s a disaster, though?” Natasha asked, glancing sideways with a knowing smirk.

You gave her a dramatic look. “I feel like I was trampled by at least four cows and then dragged through a blender. So, yeah. Little bit.”

That made her laugh, a real one, and you couldn’t help but smile. Something in your chest unclenched. Maybe she wasn’t that terrifying.

“Well, you’ve cleaned up pretty well,” she said, casually. “Considering you cried your lashes off in a public alley.”

You winced, cheeks burning, but there was no real cruelty in her voice, just observation.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured after a pause, fingers curling around the coffee mug. “I didn’t mean to…make it your problem.”

Wanda finally turned to look at you, her expression open and earnest. “You don’t have to be sorry,” she said. “I’m just glad we were there, you clearly needed someone, hm?”

That little hum somehow echoed through you like a secret. Light and harmless on the surface, but it dropped straight through your chest and left slow-spreading ripples in its wake.

You didn’t understand why it hit so low in your stomach, why it made your fingers twitch around the coffee mug, but it did. It settled there, warm and aching, and refused to move.

You didn’t trust your voice, so you said nothing, just took another sip, hoping the bitterness of the drink might ground you.

Luckily, the rest of breakfast had been fine. Wanda kept things light, her voice bright and full of easy cheer, weaving conversation like she’d done this a thousand times. She was the warmth in the room, balancing Natasha’s quiet, guarded presence with ease.

And then Wanda went and ruined the fragile peace. “So,” she said, her tone casual, like she wasn’t about to drop a bomb, “what were you doing at the club?”

The blood drained from your face, replaced by a scorching heat that crept from your neck to your cheeks, blooming across your chest. You hadn’t expected that question, not now at least.

You tried to mask the panic with humour, the words spilling from your mouth like a reflex. “Clearly not the right thing.”

Both women chuckled, but Wanda’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She paused, sensing the shift. “Seriously,” she said, voice more serious now, the edge of concern threading through. “Did something happen? If someone made you uncomfortable, they need to be reported. That place has rules for a reason.”

You could feel the pressure building in your chest, but you waved your hands, desperate to ease the tension. “No, no. Nothing like that. I wasn’t hurt or anything.” You exhaled a long breath, staring at the countertop, trying to steady yourself. “I just…I got overwhelmed. That’s all.”

Wanda’s expression shifted in an instant, the tension in her brow easing, her eyes full of quiet understanding. “It’s a lot to walk into.”

You nodded, feeling sheepish. “Yeah, well. I shouldn’t have let my roommate talk me into it.”

Wanda tilted her head, her brows furrowing with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Wait, if your roommate suggested it, why wasn't she with you?”

You shrugged, trying to keep things casual. “She has a sub of her own. She’s a regular there, and she said if she stayed with me, no one would approach me. They’d think I was hers.”

Wanda blinked, her features shifting slightly as she processed your words. Something flickered across her face, but you couldn’t quite place it. “So,” she said slowly, voice light but edged with something, “you wanted someone to approach you?”

You hesitated, your throat going tight. You weren’t sure how to answer that. “I…I don’t know. I guess? I thought maybe I’d get a better idea of what I wanted.”

“And did you?” Natasha asked, cutting in smoothly, as she casually flipped a page of her newspaper, like the conversation was no more important than the weather.

You let out a breath, the laugh that followed edged with bitterness, sharper than you meant it to be. “No. Not even close. Anyone who tried talking to me was gone in seconds. I don’t know if it was me or my inexperience, but it never went well.” You shrugged, aiming for nonchalance, though the words sat sour on your tongue.

Wanda didn’t answer right away. Just took a slow sip of her coffee, her voice soft when it came. “Or maybe they didn’t wait long enough to see the real you.”

The words hung between you, deceptively light but heavy in their weight, sinking deep before you could stop them.

Your chest tightened. Breath caught halfway. It was like the ground tilted slightly, subtle but disorienting. You couldn’t place why it hit so hard, only that it did.

Wanda watched you quietly, her gaze steady but unreadable. Then, gently, “So…are you still interested in all of this?” Her voice stayed soft, careful, like she was laying the question down instead of pressing it.

You opened your mouth, then paused. The answer was there, somewhere, but it was knotted too tightly to pull free. Your throat burned with the effort.

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Obviously, Nat and I were there too, right?” She smiled at you, warm and coaxing. “We’re also interested in that world.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her gaze, like she was waiting for something more from you. “I am. I think I’d like to try it. But I don’t think I could do a club again.” You swallowed hard, your heart thudding in your chest. “I’ll probably just drop it, at least for now.”

There was a long pause. You didn’t know if they were waiting for you to say more or if they were letting you have this moment to gather yourself.

Natasha put her paper down then, her eyes never leaving you, and something unspoken passed between the three of you.

Wanda inhaled deeply, her fingers twisting lightly around the coffee mug. “So, uhm, if this is weird, please tell me to shut up and I’ll never bring it up again,” she said, her voice quieter now, hesitant in a way that caught you completely off-guard. When you looked at her, really looked, her face was pale and uncertain.

“But, Nat and I are looking for a sub,” she finished, the words tumbling out with a breath she clearly hadn’t meant to hold that long.

Your eyebrows flew up before you could stop them, practically launching off your face. “But…but I thought you were married?”

Wanda gave a small, sheepish laugh and pressed a hand to her forehead. “We are,” she said, then grimaced. “God, why is this so awkward?” She paused, visibly trying to steady herself again, and when she spoke, her voice was a little firmer, even if her cheeks were still flushed.

“We’re married, yes. But we’re also both…dominant. I do enjoy submission sometimes, but what I really miss…what we both miss, is taking control. Together. Working with Nat to…” Her voice faltered, eyes flicking to yours, gauging your reaction. “To make someone fall apart.”

The image came unbidden, Wanda and Natasha, hands and mouths and eyes dark with hunger, breaking someone down with the precision of two people who knew exactly how to unravel a soul. It made your stomach swoop and your skin burn in places it had no business burning over breakfast.

“So you’ve had a sub before?” you asked quietly, your voice thinner than it had been a moment ago.

Wanda nodded slowly. Next to you, Natasha shifted, her entire posture went tense, her mouth a thin line. She wasn’t speaking, but her silence said a lot. And then it clicked.

You remembered what she’d said in the café. Something hadn’t gone well last time.

Wanda confirmed your thoughts. “We have. Once. But she wasn’t in it for the right reasons. We met her through an app. We were new to that kind of dynamic, still figuring things out, and she seemed genuine. We didn’t realise how wrong we were.”

Wanda’s eyes lowered to her mug. “In the end, she just used us for money,” Wanda finished, quiet now, “before letting her friends into our place while we were away to rob us blind. We never heard from her again.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, because it was the only thing you could think of. “For what it’s worth, that girl was incredibly stupid.”

That earned you a reaction. Wanda’s head lifted, the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Natasha looked up at you again, her eyes cooler now, calculating, but not cold.

“Oh yeah?” Wanda asked, amusement creeping back into her voice. “Why’s that?”

You flushed again. You were starting to think it was just your natural state around them. “I…I just mean, you’re good people. You didn’t deserve that. She should’ve seen that.”

Wanda’s smirk didn’t falter, but her eyes lingered on you, watching you in a way that made it feel like she was looking past your words and into your very thoughts. Her head tilted just slightly, and you could feel the weight of her gaze.

When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, but it carried an edge of something almost vulnerable. “It is what it is, Sweetheart. That’s why we tried the club, but we couldn’t shake the feeling that starting over with someone we didn’t know, someone we didn’t trust, wouldn’t work for us. We’d always expect the worst.”

You nodded, the words settling heavily in the air between you. “I get that. Trust is everything, right? And without it, it’s just not gonna work.” You watched her closely, seeing the faintest nod, her eyes never leaving yours.

“You two are incredible from what I’ve seen,” you added, forcing a smile. “And I’m sure you’ll find someone worthy of you.”

Wanda turned to Natasha, then a brief glance was exchanged between them, their eyes locking in a silent conversation. Natasha gave the smallest nod, but you caught it.

Wanda’s gaze locked with yours, and she hesitated for a moment, her words slower, more deliberate this time. “Maybe I didn’t explain myself clearly earlier, with all my rambling,” she said, her lips curving into a shy, almost uncertain smile. There was an edge of vulnerability in her eyes, a shift in her usual confidence. “But, I was wondering, well, we were wondering if maybe…you’d be interested.”

Your heart stopped for a moment, and your mouth hung open, a hundred different thoughts rushing through your mind. You wanted this. God, you did. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t good enough. “I…I’m flattered, really. But you two deserve better. Like way better.”

Wanda’s gaze was steady and filled with warmth. “You really need to work on your confidence,” she said, her tone rich with quiet affection. “You’re more than enough. You’re beautiful, funny, and though we haven’t known each other long, I trust you.”

Your face flushed, the weight of her words sinking in. “Even if that were the case, I’m just…too inexperienced,” you murmured, your voice faltering under the weight of your insecurity.

Wanda’s smile turned sly, her voice dropping just a touch, making you lean in instinctively. “What if I told you that inexperience is something I actually like?” she said, her tone playful but also filled with something deeper, more magnetic.

You blinked, struggling to process what she was suggesting. “W…Why would you like that?” you stammered, a shiver running through you as her words registered.

Wanda’s smirk grew, more confident now, as she leaned in a little closer. “Because…” she purred, her voice dropping lower, almost teasing, “You’re a clean slate. No bad habits. No expectations. We can shape you, guide you...turn you into ours. ”

Her words hung in the air like a promise, thick with implication. And suddenly, it felt like the ground beneath you shifted, the world outside the kitchen fading until it was just the three of you at the island, suspended in something too delicate to name.

“I…” you started, but the words disintegrated as quickly as they’d come. You blinked, lips parted, your gaze flickering between them, lost.

“It’s okay,” Wanda said gently, her voice coaxing, steady. “Take your time.”

You swallowed. “How would it…How would it work?”

Wanda sat up a little straighter, her fingers curling around her coffee mug again, like it helped with her nerves, maybe. “Well, we’d help where we could. An allowance, support with school, but that’s not the core of it.”

She glanced briefly at Natasha before turning her full attention back to you. “Natasha and I talked last night when we got back, and we agreed that if this conversation happened, we wouldn’t just be asking you to be our sub. You wouldn’t be someone we played with and sent home. We were hoping, if things felt right, that you’d join us. As a girlfriend.”

“Sorry, what?” The words tumbled out of you in a breathless laugh, surprised and disbelieving.

Natasha let out a low, amused laugh beside you, shaking her head. “Yeah, that’s about the reaction I expected.”

Wanda didn’t react to Natasha, she only looked at you. “I know it sounds fast. And I’m not trying to push. But I want to be honest about what we’re hoping for.”

You opened your mouth, closed it again. Shaking your head slightly like that might help settle your thoughts.

“I just…” You frowned, confused and overwhelmed. “I didn’t expect this. I didn’t even consider something like this. And I’m not looking for your money. That wouldn’t feel right.”

“That’s okay,” Wanda said quietly. “It’s not payment. It’s support. It’s…part of caring for someone.”

“Right, but you’re married. Why would you want a girlfriend?” you asked, your voice quiet and uncertain.

Natasha answered before Wanda could. “Because she wants someone she can bend over and ruin in every way imaginable, and unfortunately for her, I don’t bend”.

Your brain stalled. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, your chest. Your thighs pressed together instinctively beneath the island as your mouth opened, then closed again without a single usable thought behind it.

Wanda’s cheeks flushed, but she shot her wife a flat look. “Natasha!”

Natasha held her hands up, unapologetic. “Just answering the question.”

Wanda gave you a sheepish look before reaching for your hand, her touch barely there, like she was testing the waters. “Yes, I want someone to dominate, someone who craves that kind of care and control. But it’s not just about that.” Her gaze held yours, searching for understanding. “I want someone I can truly connect with. Someone to nurture.” She paused, the weight of her words sinking in. “Someone who feels like the missing piece of us.”

You blinked slowly, trying to process it. The heat still lingered from Natasha’s remark, but now it was layered with something deeper, something heavier.

“That’s a lot of ‘I want,’” you mumbled, not accusing, but cautious. “Not much ‘we want.’” You glanced toward Natasha, your brow furrowed. “You don’t seem entirely comfortable.”

Natasha was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was even, but not without tension. “If I weren’t okay with this, this conversation wouldn’t be happening. Period.” But it wasn’t dismissive. It felt more protective and defensive.

“She’s just like that,” Wanda added gently, brushing her fingers along Natasha’s arm. “Hard to read. Scary, even when you don’t know her. But once she lets you in, once she trusts you, she’s a softie. Aren’t you, my love?”

Wanda smirked, deliberately teasing, and Natasha rolled her eyes with a dark chuckle.

“Don’t start,” Natasha warned, her tone low and dangerous in the way that made you shiver. “I can still bend you over this counter and spank you black and blue.”

Your breath hitched, a full-body reaction rippling through you. Wanda stiffened next to you, visibly flustered, and the silence that followed was electric.

“So…very soft,” you muttered, trying to lighten the tension, cheeks blazing. “Clearly.”

They both laughed, unable to resist your silly joke and playful teasing. And you loved it, hearing them laugh was something you wanted to experience over and over again.

“I know I come off cold,” Natasha said after a beat, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. “And I definitely don’t look as thrilled as Wanda, but last time hurt. Deeply.”

Your chest ached with the weight behind her words. “If we did this, I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.”

She studied you carefully, “I know,” she said simply. “That’s why I agreed. I see something in you. I see why Wanda has been obsessed with you.”

“Wait, obsessed with me?” you asked, blinking. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Natasha laughed. “For the last week, it’s been nothing but the cute girl in the café. How she wanted to bring you home, feed you, wrap you up in soft things.”

Wanda groaned into her hands, face flushed.

“She didn’t know this would happen, of course,” Natasha continued, tone more serious now. “But even then, she wanted to take care of you. And after last night and today…I kind of get it.”

You looked between them, Wanda, cheeks glowing, eyes bright and so clearly excited she was practically vibrating; and Natasha, lounging in her seat with the same stillness she always carried, but her gaze was steady, direct, and for once not unreadable at all. She looked…open. Present.

And for the first time, you let yourself imagine it. Not just the idea, but the reality, the weight of Wanda’s gaze on you every day, the brush of Natasha’s hand as she passed you your coffee, the sharp crackle of energy that sparked when they were both looking at you like this.

“So, say I was interested,” you said slowly, testing the words like they might burn. “What would happen now?”

Wanda lit up instantly, her smile spreading like sunlight. “Well,” she began, scooting an inch closer, “first things first, we’d have a long conversation. Kinks, limits, safe words, what you want, what you don’t, how you like to be spoken to, how you don’t.”

Your excitement faltered for just a second, replaced by the uncomfortable ache of uncertainty. “But I’m so new. I don’t know my limits, or much about my kinks.” You averted your eyes, suddenly self-conscious.

Wanda’s grin turned wolfish, slow, and unmistakably pleased. “Oh, I can think of a few ways we could figure those out.” Then, catching herself, she tempered it with a gentler look, her voice dipping. “But seriously, it’s okay not to know. That’s why we talk. That’s why we go slow. You’ll learn what you like. What you need. But we do need to talk about hard limits. Safe words. Things that are never okay, even by accident. We take that seriously.”

You nodded, the fire in your stomach flaring again. You were out of your depth. Utterly. But you also didn’t want to run from it. The very idea of exploring that, with them, felt like a door you hadn’t realised you’d been waiting to open.

Natasha shifted beside you and stretched, her back arching until her shoulders cracked. “Alright,” she muttered, standing up. “If we are getting into negotiations, let’s move this to the sofa. My ass is going numb.”

Wanda chuckled, standing too. “Good idea, my love.” Then she turned to Natasha, her eyes holding a warmth in them that always seemed to take you by surprise. “Could you grab us some water?” she asked, her voice gentle, but there was an unmistakable tenderness in the way she looked at Natasha, as if the simple request held more than just practicality.

Natasha was already moving toward the fridge, but tossed a smirk over her shoulder. “Yeah, sure. Think she’s gonna need it.”

Your mouth dropped open at the implication, and Wanda laughed, swatting vaguely in Natasha’s direction.

“Don’t mind her,” she said with a wink. “She just likes watching people squirm.”

“Says you,” Natasha said with a cheeky grin, handing you a bottle of water with a wink as she walked past.

Wanda rolled her eyes and took your hand gently in hers. “Come on. Let’s get comfortable. No pressure, okay? Just…a conversation.”

—

You moved into the living area with quiet, hesitant steps, the plush carpet soft beneath your feet, almost muffling the way your breath hitched. You perched on the edge of the couch, turning sideways so your back could rest against the armrest, knees drawn protectively to your chest.

The position felt safer, smaller. You wrapped your arms around your legs and fidgeted with the water bottle Natasha had handed you earlier, the condensation slipping over your fingers, grounding you just enough.

Wanda was beside you. Close enough that her warmth licked at your foot when she shifted. The contact was minimal, but it might as well have been a brand.

Across from you, Natasha dropped into the single chair with deliberate ease, spreading her legs slightly as she settled in, one arm draped casually over the armrest. The posture looked relaxed, but everything about her screamed alertness.

Wanda’s smile was the first thing to break the tension. It was gentle and warm, but there was something behind it, an intensity, an undercurrent of purpose. “There we go,” she murmured, glancing at Natasha briefly, something unspoken passing between them. “Much better.”

Natasha tilted her head, eyes still fixed on you, and offered a crooked smirk. “Time for the interrogation,” she said smoothly, voice teasing.

Wanda rolled her eyes, a quiet huff escaping her, but the fondness there was unmistakable. “Ignore her,” she said lightly, but her gaze sharpened as it returned to you. “Let’s start easy. Do you have a safe word?”

You blinked. The question landed like a stone in a still pond, sending ripples of nervous energy through you. Your eyes darted between them, unsure who to focus on. “I…I mean, no? I’ve never really needed one,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. Your grip tightened on the bottle. “But, uhm, my roommate, she told me about the traffic light system?”

Wanda’s entire face brightened with approval, her lips parting in a pleased little smile that somehow managed to be both reassuring and a little bit proud. “Perfect,” she said, her voice velvet-soft, a touch of something nurturing curling around the word. “We use that too. Simple, but effective.” She paused, head tilting thoughtfully. “Do you know how to communicate when you can’t speak? One tap or squeeze for green, two for yellow, three for red.” Her eyes didn’t leave yours. “It’s important that we can always understand you, no matter what.”

You nodded slowly, some of the fear easing from your shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah, we talked about this stuff,” you said quietly, your voice gaining strength. You looked down, a bit embarrassed. “Kind of a lot, actually.”

Across from you, Natasha let out a soft chuckle, a low, smoky sound that somehow made you feel both exposed and seen. “Well, that’s handy. Means we can get to the fun stuff much quicker.”

“Fun stuff?” you echoed, almost involuntarily. There was a nervous lilt in your voice, your eyes widening the moment the words slipped out.

Wanda’s lips curled, slow and deliberate, like she was tasting the tension in the room. “Fun stuff,” she echoed, her voice dipping into something darker, more intimate. “When we get to explore all those delicious, twisted things you want to explore.”

The room felt warmer, the air thick with unspoken tension. The words lingered, hanging in the space between you like a tangible weight, their promise settling low in your belly. Wanda let the silence stretch out, watching the way you shifted, just enough to make her smile to herself. Then, her tone shifted, gentle, like she was offering you a fragile reassurance. “But we’ll go slow. I promise.”

A flush crept up your neck, spreading like spilled ink. Your pulse thrummed in your ears. “I…I don’t really know what I like yet,” you murmured, the confession small, uncertain. “I mean, what I know, it’s mostly from my roommate. And, like…Tumblr. Who knew there were so many kinks?”

“Oh, yeah,” Natasha said, smirking again, “if it can be done, there’s a kink for it. All power to them, but there’s some stuff I don’t like, personally. Piss and shit, for example? That’s a hard limit for me.”

You grimaced instinctively, your whole body recoiling just a little. “Yeah…I don’t want that.”

Wanda and Natasha exchanged a look, then turned identical smiles on you.“Good girl, setting limits already,” Wanda said, her voice dipped in approval.

Your breath hitched. The praise struck something raw and electric inside you, sending a sharp flutter through your chest. Heat pooled low in your belly once again, your fingers twitching and your body fidgeting.

Natasha saw. Wanda definitely saw.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” Wanda teased, her smile sharpening into something wicked. “I guess we should note potential praise kink down?”

Your face burned, but you nodded, voice barely a whisper. “I think so…but I, uhm—” You chewed your lip, hesitating, the words stuck in your throat.

Wanda’s hand brushed yours, her touch gentle but reassuring, her eyes soft with encouragement. “You can tell us, sweetheart. You’re doing great,” she murmured, her voice low and patient.

You swallowed hard, heart racing. “I think... I like the idea of being degraded, too,” you admitted, barely audible. Wanda’s lips parted slightly, her gaze sharpening with interest, but she didn’t rush you. She just stayed close, nodding, silently urging you to continue.

You forced the words out, feeling exposed. “And I want to try things that hurt. I—” You trailed off, eyes closing in embarrassment. Wanda’s hand tightened around yours, steadying you, her gaze warm but intense. She didn’t press, just waited for you to finish.

“I had some uhm, reactions when I was reading about them,” you mumbled, too shy to look at her.

Natasha let out a low hum of approval, almost like a growl. She sat up a little straighter in her chair, eyes gleaming with interest. Wanda, on the other hand, was a mix between softness and looking like she wanted to eat you alive, like every word from your mouth made you more delicious, more precious.

“God, you’re perfect already,” Wanda whispered, breathless.

Before you could bask in the warmth of that too long, something sparked in your memory. “Oh! But face slapping,” you said quickly, like the words were chasing each other out of your mouth. “I saw that a lot. And that is a big no. I know that for sure.”

Wanda’s expression shifted, like she wanted to ask, but she didn’t press. “Understood. Noted,” she said, her voice honest and protective. “That’ll never happen then, Sweetheart.”

What followed was a long, very intense conversation about kinks and limits. Natasha would throw out possibilities with the same casualness as asking what someone would want for dinner, and every reaction you gave, every squirm, every soft gasp or wrinkle of your nose was noted with precision.

Wanda was softer, coaxing things from you like secrets, watching how your body responded more than what you said.

You were surprised by how long your “I want to try this” list became. The “absolutely fucking not” list was far shorter, and that thrilled you more than you expected.

Eventually, Wanda reached for your hand, her touch deliberate and comforting. “So,” she started, voice gentle but firm, “we also need to talk names. What you like to be called. And what we’d like to be called.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. “Names?”

She nodded, face open, gaze warm. “Mm-hmm. Titles. Terms of endearment. Pet names. Dynamic-specific ones, if they feel right. Not everything has to be sexual, sometimes, they’re just about grounding. About knowing your place with us, even when we’re not touching you.”

“Oh.” You blinked. “Okay. Like what?”

“Well, I like ‘Sweetheart,’ ‘Darling,’ ‘Honey,’ ‘Baby,’ obviously,” Wanda said, her tone light and teasing. “And then there’s ‘Malyshka,” she added, her voice softening, the playful warmth shifting into something deeper. She paused, letting the silence hang for a moment before locking eyes with you, a shadow passing through her gaze. “It can mean two things, baby girl, or...”

Your breath caught, pulse quickening as the tension between you thickened. “O…or?”

“Little One,” Wanda whispered, her words barely audible, but they hit you like a soft, lingering echo that stayed with you long after she'd spoken.

The words landed like a heavy blow to your chest, your breath catching in your throat. You couldn’t help the sudden heat flooding through you, the way your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Your gaze darted away, cheeks flushing hot, a mix of shock and something more flooding your system, a whimper falling from your lips.

Wanda noticed your reaction. Her voice was thick with something dangerous and darkly intimate. “That one hit, didn’t it?” she asked, her smile slow and predatory.

You couldn’t answer, your mouth too dry, but the frantic nod of your head told her everything she needed to know.

Natasha’s voice broke through, amused and approving. “Sweet,” she said, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “I like it too. It suits you.”

You peeked out from behind your hands, flushed, heart still hammering in your chest, but desperate to stay grounded. “So I just pick one?” you asked, the words trembling as they left your lips.

Wanda’s smile curled at the edges, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Or all of them,” she replied, her voice teasing. “If you want them.”

"I…I like them," you whispered, the words barely more than a breath. "I don’t really mind any pet names. Use whatever feels right. And if I don’t like it, well, I’m sure you’ll be able to tell."

Wanda’s gaze sharpened, her fingers moving to your chin with a quiet firmness, her expression taking on a subtle sternness. "No," she said, her voice gentle but unwavering. “You’ll tell us, understood? Don’t expect us to just know. You need to speak up, okay?"

Something about the firmness in her gaze made your stomach twist. You weren’t used to being asked to speak up, to set boundaries. But there was something in her tone that made you want to try. You nodded, voice small but steady. "Okay. I will."

You barely had time to process Wanda's words before Natasha leaned forward slightly in her chair. Her gaze held a mischievous edge that contrasted with Wanda’s warmth. Her lips curled into a slight smile, the playful glint in her eyes a stark contrast to the serious conversation before.

“My suggestions aren’t quite as cute as Wanda’s,” Natasha said, her voice dipping lower, teasing. “Kotenok or Kitten is what hits me when I look at you. Skittish. Soft. Trouble.”

Another jolt surged through you. Your breath caught again. “Yeah…Yeah…Kitten is good.”

Natasha gave you a slow, approving smile, her eyes glinting with a darkness that made your heart skip a beat. “Perfect, Kotenok (Kitten), ” she murmured, her voice low and controlled. “And just so you know, I tend to lean toward Russian pet names, so you’ll probably hear lots of them, for example, ‘Detka,’ ‘Krasivaya Devushka,’ and maybe even ‘Printsessa.’” (Babe/baby, Pretty girl, Princess). She paused, a hint of mischief in her gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you what they all mean...over time.”

The sound of those words, so fluid, coming from Natasha’s lips, melted you. Her accent thickened as she spoke, each syllable rolling off her tongue with a slow, deliberate grace. Her voice lowered an octave, and the heat in her gaze made it feel like the room was getting warmer. You couldn’t understand a single word, but it didn’t matter. You’d take whatever she said, in any language.

Wanda’s fingers tightened around yours, her grip grounding you as you spiraled from Natasha’s words, like she knew exactly how they’d rattled you. Her touch pulled you back, steadying you, while her voice held you in place. “And for us,” she said, her eyes locking with yours, “we do have our preferences.”

Your breath caught, heart pounding in your chest. Dread and excitement twisted in your belly, knotting together as you felt both women’s gaze on you, different yet equally intense.

Wanda’s smile shifted, becoming something darker, something more dangerous, as she leaned in closer, her breath warm on your ear. “I like being called Mommy.”

Natasha’s voice rang out with no hesitation, deep and commanding. “And I like Daddy.”

It wasn’t just the words, it was the way they said them. Wanda’s voice had a lulling, dangerous sweetness to it, pulling you closer, inviting surrender. Natasha’s tone was firm, commanding, like it could settle deep in your bones, leaving no room for doubt. The combination hit you like a lightning strike, every nerve in your body humming with heat.

“Shit,” you breathed, too overwhelmed to filter your response, the heat from both of them starting to burn through you.

Natasha’s lips quirked into a slow, wicked smile, her eyes glinting with something dark and hungry. “Good shit or bad shit?”

You squirmed under her gaze, trying to stay grounded, but the pull of both women was too much. “I think you know the answer.”

“Maybe I do,” Natasha purred, her voice low and thick with authority, making your pulse spike instantly. She didn’t budge from her chair, but somehow, it felt like she was moving closer to you with every word, the force of her presence suffocating, undeniable. “But maybe you should be using your words, like Mommy asked you to. Tell Daddy you like the idea, Kotenok (Kitten).”

You almost whimpered, but the sound barely escaped, a tremor running through your chest. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, shaken with the weight of everything swirling inside you. The words were raw, pulled from somewhere deep, but before they could consume you completely, Wanda’s voice cut through the haze.

“Natasha,” she said, the warning in her tone undercut with a hint of amusement. “Stop teasing her. You’re not helping.”

Natasha didn’t look the least bit sorry. Her grin only grew, a predatory gleam in her eyes. “I think she needs way more than teasing.”

Heat flooded your body, pooling low in your belly. Your thighs instinctively pressed together, betraying you in the most humiliating way. You hadn’t meant for it to happen, but every glance, every word from them twisted something inside you.

You couldn’t keep it in anymore, and an embarrassingly desperate whine escaped, slipping through your clenched teeth. The sound was part shame, part desire, and it made everything tighten further.

Wanda and Natasha exchanged a glance, their eyes darkening in unison, their expressions sharpening, and just like that, they both knew. They saw everything.

“Don’t…don’t look at me like that,” you mumbled, voice small, barely audible as you dipped your head in an attempt to hide the blush burning your skin. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

Wanda laughed, soft and syrupy, the kind of sound that made your skin prickle. “What are you embarrassed about, baby?” she cooed, her voice laced with mock-innocence, almost cruel in its sweetness.

You shook your head quickly, too overwhelmed to speak. “It’s nothing,” you whispered, voice fraying at the edges.

She moved then, just a slight shift, barely more than a lean, and her fingers were under your chin again, before you could prepare for it. Cold rings pressed against your skin as she tilted your face up, slow and deliberate, until you were forced to meet her eyes.

“See, I don’t think it’s nothing,” Wanda murmured, her tone lower now, closer, more intimate. “I think you’re aching, and you don’t know what to do with it.”

You nodded before you even realised you had, your body moving before your mind caught up. It was as if instinct had taken over, bypassing any hesitation. Wanda’s smile grew, a wicked, tender thing, all at once.

“If it helps…” she whispered, her mouth brushing the shell of your ear, “you’re not the only one.” A pause, and then, “I’ve been wet since the first time you whimpered for me, Sweetheart.”

The words knocked the air from your lungs. Your breath faltered, eyes widening in disbelief. You stared at her, frozen, your mouth hanging open, utterly stunned. A tremor ran through you, the need swelling inside you until it became almost unbearable. You couldn’t form the words, couldn’t bring yourself to speak, but all that ran through your mind was touch me .

Your reaction must have sparked something in Wanda, because her hand shifted from your chin to rest softly against your cheek. Her teasing tone fell away. "Hey, baby, you with me?" she asked, her concern breaking through. "I’m sorry. Did I come on too strong?"

You shook your head almost violently, desperate to push the thought away. No, that wasn’t the problem. That wasn’t the issue at all. The problem was how badly you wanted it. How much you needed something you didn’t even know how to ask for.

“I want—” The words faltered, getting stuck in your throat. You pressed your lips together, heart hammering in your chest. It felt too soon, too much. Even with everything that had been said, could you really ask for this already? What if they turned you away? What if they saw you as desperate? What if you weren’t enough?

Wanda’s brows lifted, but her voice stayed gentle. “Want what, Malyshka (Little One)? ”

Your whole body had jerked at the sound, a shiver crawling up your spine. The way her accent deepened when she said that word? It hit you like a lightning bolt, confirming you had definitely found a new kink. Between her and Natasha, it was inevitable.

You were squirming now, eyes clouded with need, chest heaving with every breath. Without even thinking, your hips shifted, searching for some kind of pressure, any relief, but there was none. It was mortifying, how easily your body betrayed you, how quickly you fell apart under her voice.

Wanda’s smile curved, a glint of something dangerous in her eyes as she watched the way your body moved, squirming under the weight of her words. "Do you want some...help?" she asked, her voice light but carrying an edge, her smile sharp and knowing.

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. Your throat tightened, as though it had forgotten how to form words. But in the end, it didn’t matter. You nodded, just once, barely a movement, but it felt like surrender, as though you were offering yourself up to whatever came next.

Wanda’s hand stayed gently resting against your cheek, her thumb stroking your skin in slow, rhythmic motions. She watched you unravel, and there was a deep sense of pride in her voice when she spoke. “There you go,” she whispered, the words dripping with satisfaction. “That’s our girl.”

You swallowed hard, fighting to hold onto any semblance of control. Your eyes flickered to Natasha before you could stop them, as if your body had remembered she was there even though your mind had momentarily shut her out. She still sat across the room, lounging in that chair, watching you intently, like a predator assessing its prey.

Wanda noticed the glance, and she leaned in close, her voice dropping low, a soft murmur that sent a shiver through your whole body. "Don’t worry about her," she whispered, her lips brushing your skin as her words sank in. "We agreed she would just watch for today...Our Little One isn't ready for Daddy just yet."

You couldn’t help the tremor that ran down your spine at her words. They hit you like a wave, crashing into you, making your knees fall open slightly without thinking. Your breath stuttered in your throat, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your belly.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Wanda cooed, pulling back just enough to look at you properly. Her hand slid down from your cheek to your throat, not squeezing, not threatening, just holding. Her eyes scanned your face for your reaction, and when it was positive, she continued. “You are wound so tight, aren’t you? That pretty little head of yours is spinning.”

You whimpered again, more desperate now. You didn’t know if you wanted her to stop or keep going. Everything inside you was tangled up in heat and shame and the most exquisite ache you’d ever felt.

Wanda kept her attention locked on you, fingertips grazing down your arm now, slow and deliberate, every inch she touched feeling like it burned. “I’ll take care of you,” she promised, her voice velvet-smooth. “But you’re going to ask me for it. Properly. When you’re ready.”

You blinked up at her, wide-eyed and flushed and completely overwhelmed. “I don’t…I don’t know how,” you admitted, your voice high and shaky, barely audible.

Wanda’s expression softened again. “That’s alright,” she murmured. “We’ll teach you. That’s part of it. You don’t need to know anything right now. Just that you’re safe. And that we’ll never take what you don’t give.”

She reached for your hand again, lacing her fingers with yours like before. “You’re doing so well already. I’m proud of you.”

Your eyes stung. Her praise hit harder than anything else had, like you’d been starving for it without realising. Your body ached, but your chest swelled, heat blooming there like sunlight.

Then Wanda kissed you, and it felt like something out of a dream. No urgency. No rush. Just her lips brushing against yours like a question, like she was waiting for you to answer with your body.

Her lips were impossibly soft. She kissed you like you were made of paper, fragile and water-damaged, and she didn’t want to leave a single mark, yet.

Your breath caught the moment her tongue brushed the seam of your mouth, just a test, and you gasped softly, lips parting for her before you could stop yourself.

That was when the first noise slipped out of you. Not a whimper, not yet, just a soft, aching little sigh, like your lungs didn’t know how to hold the heat.

Wanda pulled back the tiniest bit, her mouth hovering so close you could still taste her breath. She smiled. “That’s it,” she murmured, voice low and sweet, like honey melting over hot skin. “Don’t think. Just feel me.”

Your fingers twitched at your sides. You didn’t know where to put them. You were too nervous to grab her, too overwhelmed to keep still. Every nerve felt raw. Every breath was tight and shallow.

And across the room, Natasha hadn’t moved. She was just watching, her gaze heavy on your flushed face. She hadn’t spoken for a while, but you could feel her approval like a pulse in the air.

Wanda’s kiss deepened slowly. She coaxed your mouth open, tongue slipping past your lips in a way that made your toes curl. Every sound you made just seemed to encourage her, every little whimper, every gasp against her mouth. You could feel yourself trembling and hated how obvious it was…but she didn’t mock you for it. She kissed you harder.

You didn’t realise how fast your chest was rising and falling until she pulled back to speak. “Is it too much?” she asked, voice quiet and close to your ear. Her hand stroked the side of your neck, grounding. “You can tell me, Honey.”

You shook your head, throat tight. “Not enough,” you whispered, and the shame hit immediately, face burning, eyes wide. You couldn’t believe you’d said it out loud.

Wanda made a sound low in her throat, a soft, breathy laugh, thick with delight as she tilted her head to better drink you in. “Oh,” she murmured, voice just shy of mocking. “You’re already there, aren’t you?”

Her lips pressed gently to your cheek, then lower, brushing your jaw, lingering at the corner of your mouth like she was savouring you already.

“Lie back for me,” she said, light and coaxing, but with a flicker of something reverent beneath the teasing. “I need room if I’m going to worship you properly.”

Your arms trembled as you moved, slowly unfolding yourself. You hadn’t even realised how tightly you’d curled inward, hugging your knees to your chest like that might somehow contain the ache building inside you. As if protecting yourself from just how much you needed this.

But Wanda didn’t push. She didn’t rush. She simply waited, her hands stroking slowly down the outside of your thighs in patient, grounding passes, keeping you tethered.

You eased back until you were open to her, lay back, knees bent, feet flat on the sofa cushions, and her mouth dropped open as she looked at you, legs parted just enough, flushed and breathing too hard.

Wanda’s fingers slid under the hem of the loose tee you had borrowed. Her touch was light, her voice even lighter. “Can we see you properly, Little One?” she asked, with none of the teasing from earlier, just soft patience.

You nodded.

But Wanda’s fingers stilled completely against your skin, her touch suddenly so still it burned. Her head tilted slowly, eyes flicking up to meet yours with dark, patient hunger. “Words, darling,” she murmured. “Tell Mommy you want them off.”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed hard, breath catching on the way out. “Yes,” you whispered, barely audible. “Please…Mommy. Take them off.”

Wanda let out a groan that melted into something almost desperate. The title lingered in the air like smoke, curling possessively around her. Her eyelids fluttered as she breathed through the heat. “God, you sound so good when you say that, baby,” she moaned, voice thick with want. “Such a good girl for me.”

Wanda’s fingers twitched back to life, the pause over. She dragged them down the soft line of your stomach, her touch reverent now, like she was unwrapping a gift.

She pushed the hem of the shirt slowly, watching your face more than your skin, reading the way your breath hitched and your chest rose. Her hands were warm, steady as she eased it off you entirely, guiding your arms up and over without a word.

“You’re shaking,” she murmured, and you were. You hadn’t even realised it until she pressed her lips to your shoulder, slow and open-mouthed, breathing in the scent of you like it grounded her. “You’re being so brave for me.”

Your face burned as she then reached for the drawstring of your joggers, slipping it loose with deliberate care. She didn’t rush. She didn’t tease. It wasn’t about making you squirm; it was about seeing you, piece by piece, letting you feel every second of it.

She slid the fabric slowly over your hips, the backs of her knuckles grazing sensitive skin on the way down. “Lift your hips for Mommy, baby.”

You obeyed without hesitation, thighs quivering as you raised your hips, trusting her completely. In one fluid motion, Wanda drew your joggers and underwear down together, baring you to the cool air and to her gaze.

Then you were exposed, and Wanda just…stared. Like she couldn’t quite decide where to look first, like every part of you demanded her full attention.

Her hands settled instinctively on your thighs, her thumbs tracing slow, featherlight circles against your skin as her eyes darkened. “You’re beautiful,” she breathed, reverent and a little awed. Then, without looking away from you, she spoke to her wife, “Natasha, look how pretty she is.”

Heat flared instantly in your face. Your eyes flicked toward the chair across the room before you could stop them, and there she was. Natasha hadn’t moved an inch, still lounging like a queen at rest, but her mouth was curled into a sharp, pleased little smile. Her gaze caught yours and didn’t waver, all dark promise and deliberate patience.

A quiet, shameful sound escaped your throat, and Wanda lit up. “Oh,” she laughed, wicked and delighted. “I knew it. You like being watched.”

Mortified, you dropped your head back onto the cushion and slapped a hand over your face, trying to hide. But Wanda only laughed again, sugar-sweet and cruel in the way that made your stomach flip.

“No, Little One,” she scolded gently, tugging your hand away with ease. “None of that. You don’t get to hide, not when you’re this perfect.”

You whimpered again, thighs twitching as your hips shifted against the cushions. Your legs squeezed together, then fell open, helpless. You couldn’t stay still. Every part of you was burning.

Wanda tilted her head, her lashes low, eyes sparkling as she looked at you. “Such a sensitive little thing,” she whispered, the words sliding like velvet over your skin. “And we haven’t even started yet.”

Before you could speak, she leaned in and kissed you again, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that left you aching in the chest. Her hand slid up, not between your legs but along your waist, curling around your side to hold you close.

Her mouth moved across your face, over your jaw, and down your neck, where she latched onto your pulse, sucking deeply, deliberately. The sensation jolted through you, and before you could even think, your body arched into it, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

Wanda's lips lingered, the bite sinking deeper, her mark burning into your skin like a brand, sending heat spiraling out in waves across your chest.

You whined, your body trembling beneath her, every nerve alive with the intensity of her touch. She hummed against your throat, her tongue sweeping over the mark, and her breath came slow, heavy, each exhale a silent promise of more.

“There,” she breathed, her voice thick with a dark, possessive pride, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she pulled back just enough to study the mark she’d left on you. "God, you look so fucking perfect with my mark on your throat."

Your hips bucked involuntarily, the possessiveness in her tone winding around something deep inside you. She chuckled low, pressing her palm flat to your stomach to keep you still.

“Settle down,” she breathed, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, then another, then lower. Her hands moved as she did, slow and reverent. She wasn’t trying to rush to anything, she was worshipping you. Making sure you felt every graze of her teeth, every soft scrape of her nails down your sides, every lingering kiss as her mouth charted a path down your trembling body.

When she bit you again, just under your ribs this time, you jolted, another high noise bursting out before you could stop it. She soothed it immediately, nuzzling into your side like she couldn’t bear to be apart from you, even for a moment.

“I love those little sounds you make,” she murmured. “So pretty. So fucking perfect for me.”

You were already trembling, your body humming like a live wire, and she hadn’t even really touched you yet. But you could feel it. The slick heat between your legs, the desperate, aching want that coiled tighter with every second.

When Wanda shifted, sliding lower down the sofa and settling between your thighs, your breath caught in your chest like a punch.

“Breathe for me, Little One,” she said softly, her voice gentling as both hands returned to your thighs. Her thumbs moved in slow, soothing circles, grounding you with each pass. “You’re doing so well, but you need to breathe.”

You nodded shakily, dragging in a broken gasp, lungs finally loosening under her attention. Wanda leaned in and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, right at the apex, so close it made you twitch.

Her breath ghosted over slick, flushed skin, and then she kissed again. And again. Gentle. No bite this time. Just lips. Warm and reverent and unbearably soft.

You sobbed at the sensation, legs twitching, instinctively trying to close around her head, but her hands held you open.

“Are you ready for me, Sweetheart?” she murmured, looking up at you with eyes too focused, too careful, like nothing else in the world existed except your answer.

You nodded, then remembered. Words. She needed words. “Y...yes,” you managed, voice cracking. “I’m ready.”

Wanda smiled, proud and soft and utterly devastating. “Good girl,” she praised. Her hand slid slightly higher, teasing. “Now tell me what colour you are, hm?”

“G...green,” you blurted, the word high-pitched, nearly a whimper. Your body clenched with the surge of heat the check-in triggered, need sparking sharply under your skin. “I’m green.”

Her smile deepened, and she nodded. “That’s my good girl. And if you want to stop?”

You let out a desperate, wounded little whine. “Yellow or red,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush. “Please, Mommy, please! I’ll say it if I need to just—”

She let out a soft chuckle, a kiss pressed between your thighs. “I’ve got you. Keep your legs open for me,” she murmured. And you opened up for her, you knew you would do anything she asked of you, right now.

As you obeyed, Wanda let out a breath, slow, shaky, like she needed the moment to collect herself. Her palms skimmed up the insides of your thighs, warm and firm, coaxing you open even further, keeping you bared beneath her gaze. She didn’t rush. Just held you there, eyes drinking you in like something sacred.

“You’re going to be so good for me,” she murmured, voice low and velvety, thick with heat and something deeper. Not a question, not quite a command, more like a vow. Her gaze flicked up, locking with yours. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nodded too fast, too eager, once again forgetting words. Your head fell back against the cushion, mouth open as you sucked in shallow breaths, dazed and trembling.

Wanda’s fingers pressed just a little harder into the soft flesh of your thigh, a subtle squeeze. A quiet correction, not born of anger but patience, like she was guiding you, gently coaxing obedience into instinct.

Her voice followed, low and coaxing, velvet over steel. “Ah-ah. Use your words for me, Sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you breathed, so desperate it came out as a sob. “Yes, I’ll be good, Mommy. I promise! Please—”

Wanda smiled. She didn’t respond with words. She lowered her mouth instead.

The first touch of her tongue was impossibly soft, barely more than a kiss, just a warm, wet brush that sent your whole body taut. You let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a moan and a cry, hips twitching, only for her palms to flatten against your inner thighs and hold you steady, immovable.

She pulled back immediately, her lips wet and shining, her eyes dark with something feral, in a way that made your stomach flip. “Stay still,” she murmured, voice low and commanding, and it hit you somewhere deep.

You froze, muscles trembling with the effort, breath catching in your throat. But the way she looked right now? Flushed cheeks, parted lips, eyes fixed on you like she was starving for more? You didn’t even need her touch. That look alone was enough to ruin you.

Nonetheless, she leaned in again, slower this time, licking a flat stripe up your centre, and you nearly came from the sound alone. The soft, slick drag. Her low hum. The soft, wet suction as her lips closed around your clit for just a second before pulling away again.

A loud moan spilled from your throat as your back arched off the sofa. “Oh, Mommy!”

Wanda hummed, pleased and hungry, her voice dipping lower, raspier, heat threaded through every word. “Does that feel good, Little One?” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “You taste so sweet…”

And then, Wanda truly began. Her tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, tracing you with maddening precision, as if she had all the time in the world to explore every inch of your cunt.

Each flick, each circle sent electric jolts through your body, teasing and torturing with perfect timing. Every pause felt like an eternity, just long enough for you to think she might be done, only for her to dive back in, harder, deeper.

Wanda slid her arm beneath your thigh and lifted, settling your leg over her shoulder like you weighed nothing at all. You let her. You didn’t even think; your body just obeyed, limp and aching and wide open.

The moment her tongue ran through your folds again, your hands found her hair, gripping it with a desperate urgency that made your knuckles throb. You clung to her like she was the only anchor in a storm, your body trembling with need.

The words spilled from your lips without hesitation, desperate and raw. “Mmmm, Mommy! Yes, please…don’t stop…more!” you begged, voice shaky, almost frantic. You didn’t care anymore, didn’t care how desperate you sounded. All that mattered was the aching hunger inside you, the overwhelming need that Wanda was slowly, perfectly, fulfilling.

Her tongue pressed deeper, more purposeful, sliding through your slick folds with aching precision. Every stroke came with a little more pressure, a little more hunger, as if your taste had lit a fuse in her.

She moaned softly against you, the sound sending a shock through your spine, and her hands gripped tighter, one anchoring your thigh, the other still holding you down as you writhed below her.

She found a rhythm that made you keen and she circled, sucked and licked at your clit like she wanted to drag it out until you forgot how to do anything but fall apart for her.

“Such a good girl,” Wanda breathed against you, her voice wrecked with hunger and lust. The words vibrated through you, each syllable soaked in pride, in possession. “So sensitive…look at you.”

Heat poured off you in waves. You were burning. Every inch of your skin felt too tight, every nerve alive and screaming. Her mouth didn’t relent, and your body responded with sobs, helpless, choked little cries that crawled up your throat unbidden.

You were shaking, desperate for release but far too overwhelmed to ask for it, like your body couldn’t decide whether it wanted to run or fall apart right there beneath her.

Your eyes squeezed shut, vision swimming, the world narrowing to nothing but her, her mouth, her voice, her hands. Until you heard, “Look at her.” A low, smooth voice cut through the haze, amused and dark. Natasha. “Wanda, you’re going to break her.”

It hit you like a lightning strike. Shame and arousal collided so violently that it knocked the breath from your lungs. You couldn’t believe you’d forgotten she was there. But of course she was.

But now, her voice cut through the fog, pulling you from the tight grip Wanda had on you, the overwhelming rush of sensation temporarily halted as your face flushed with heat. The reality of the moment hit harder than the pleasure had, and yet, it anchored you in a way you hadn’t expected.

Wanda didn’t look away from you. She didn’t even pause. Her mouth just closed over your clit again, firmer now. Your thighs tensed under her grip. Your back lifted. You were sobbing her title like it was the only thing you knew. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy…”

“Shh,” she whispered, “You’re okay. You’re doing so well.”

You were too far gone to respond. Your mouth opened, a moan catching in your throat and sticking there as you ground helplessly into her mouth, chasing your pleasure.

Wanda moaned into you, it was low, deliberate, a sound soaked in hunger, and the vibration of it rippled straight through your core. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t restrained. It was carnal, shameless, and it nearly undid you on the spot.

Your whole body jolted like it had been struck, legs trembling as you continued to grind into her face as the pleasure spiked white-hot and unbearable.

Wanda then chose to experiment with another of the kinks you mentioned, her voice rough as she spoke. “Mmm such a desperate whore,” she moaned. “Grinding your cunt into Mommy’s face, such a dirty little girl.”

And that…that…was what broke you. You’d suspected, thanks to those deep dives on Tumblr, that it would do something to you…But hearing it for real, hearing it from Wanda . It didn’t just undo you, it detonated something inside you.

You were spiralling now, clinging to the sensation, chasing the edge that felt so close you could taste it. You needed to fall. You needed it, more than breath, more than sense, more than anything you’d ever needed before.

“I...I’m—” The words got stuck in your throat, too tangled up with the raw ache consuming you. “Please!” The plea came out desperate, ragged, your voice a broken whisper of need.

Wanda lifted her mouth just long enough to look up at you, her chin glistening, her eyes blown wide with hunger. “Let go,” she whispered. “Cum for me, Malyshka (Little One). ”

And you did. You shattered. Loudly, helplessly, trembling so hard your teeth nearly chattered, a scream tearing from your throat as every nerve in your body lit up and snapped loose all at once.

Wanda didn’t stop. She licked you through it, steady and patient, never pulling away even as your thighs clamped around her shoulders and your hips jolted beneath her mouth. She drank every twitch, every sob, until you were limp and gasping and twitching from overstimulation.

Only then did she slow, then finally, finally pulled back. Her face was flushed, her lips red, eyes dark and glassy with want.

She looked up at you like she wasn’t quite done. “Such a good girl,” she whispered, crawling back up over your trembling body. “If this weren't our first time, I wouldn't be finished with you yet.”

You were whimpering, breath catching in your throat over and over like you couldn’t get enough air.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Wanda whispered, her hands feather-light now, reverent. “You did so well for me. You were perfect.”

You were too far gone to speak. You blinked up at her through wet lashes, barely able to focus, your whole body trembling with the aftershocks of everything she’d pulled from you.

Wanda leaned down and kissed you. You tasted yourself on her mouth, but all you could feel was the way she held your face in both hands like you were breakable now, like she wanted to kiss every cry back into your body.

She reached for you with both arms and pulled you straight into her chest, tucking your head beneath her chin. You folded willingly, instinctively, curling into the heat of her body as though it was the only place in the world you’d ever felt safe. She held you there, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, the other stroking along your spine in long, calming passes.

“There we go,” she murmured, so soft it was nearly inaudible. “Come here, darling. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t, not yet. But you clung weakly to her hoodie, your fingers barely gripping the hem, and Wanda’s mouth found the crown of your head and kissed it, slow and sure and overflowing with something too full to name.

There was movement to your left, measured and careful. Natasha. She had been quiet the whole time, hadn’t touched you once. But now she approached with something folded in her arms.

“I thought this might help,” she said, voice hushed.. She knelt beside the couch, holding out both the bottle you’d left earlier and a thick, soft blanket.

Wanda adjusted you slightly so she could reach without disturbing your place against her chest, accepting both items with a grateful nod. “Thank you.”

She opened the blanket first, shaking it out one-handed with practiced ease, and Natasha helped drape it over your back and shoulders, tucking it in so gently it barely felt like anything at all. Still, the weight of it made your chest wobble with an aftershock of emotion; it was warm, soft, and it covered you. Like a shield.

You made a tiny sound, something caught between a sigh and a sob, and Wanda only pulled you tighter. “You’re not vulnerable, Little One,” she whispered into your hair. “Not here. Not with us.”

Natasha’s hand briefly, barely brushed over your shoulder as she pulled the blanket more snug around your side. Then she leaned in, close enough that you could smell her perfume, and offered you the water, unscrewed and waiting.

“Slow sips,” she said gently.

Your hands shook, but Wanda helped you guide the bottle, letting you rest against her chest as you drank. You managed a few small sips before your throat threatened to close again, overwhelmed by everything by touch, by sound, by being seen. You pulled back slightly, your eyes watery, and Wanda was already there, thumb brushing the side of your face.

“That’s enough for now,” she said softly, taking the bottle and setting it aside. “You did so well. Just breathe.”

You nodded, barely, and Wanda held you even closer, curling one leg beneath her on the sofa so she could keep your body entirely against hers. She wrapped the blanket more securely around your back, and her lips found your temple, your cheek, your jaw. Every kiss was slow. Careful. Anchored in a depth of feeling that made your chest ache.

“I’m so proud of you,” she murmured. “You gave me everything, and you were so brave.”

Natasha shifted subtly, her gaze soft and steady. Her voice was lower now, gentle in a way it rarely was. “You were breathtaking,” she said. “Really.”

You blinked at her, breath hitching, but all she did was reach out and brush your hair out of your face, her touch light as air. You hid your face again in Wanda’s neck, overwhelmed all over again, but in a way that felt like comfort. Maybe even like home.

—

The rest of the day was a haze of comfort and unease. Wanda stayed by your side, her touch unyielding, grounding you whenever you felt adrift. She kept you close, either holding you or brushing against you constantly, her presence soft and reassuring.

It was as if she sensed something was off, that your mind was clouded, your thoughts scattered, and your body delicate. You couldn’t fully settle, but Wanda was there, pulling you back whenever you zoned out. Her smile, warm and steady, reminded you she was present, even when you couldn’t quite make sense of what you were feeling.

Natasha, on the other hand, had pulled away. As the day wore on, she became more distant, both physically and emotionally. The same barrier that had seemed to lift during your earlier conversation had slammed back into place, stronger than before. You couldn’t shake the feeling that she was second-guessing everything now that it had all become real.

The thought struck harder than you expected, a sharp ache in your chest that wouldn’t let go. A wave of loneliness, of abandonment, washed over you, and you couldn’t make sense of it. Why did it hurt so much? You barely knew Natasha, so why did it matter?

As the day went on, Wanda seemed to sense the unease building within you. She noticed the glances you cast toward Natasha, the way your gaze lingered. Each time, she’d murmur something soothing, reassuring you that it was okay, that Natasha just needed time to process her own feelings.

And in some way, that helped. Wanda didn’t seem concerned, her belief that this wasn’t the end giving you a strange sense of comfort. If she wasn’t worried, maybe you didn’t need to be either. Slowly, you allowed yourself to relax into that belief.

When it was finally time to leave, Wanda’s sadness was obvious. She kissed you gently on the cheek, her touch lingering as she looked at you with eyes full of things left unsaid. Natasha, though, had a different expression. Her smile was faint, polite, but you could sense the relief in her that the day was over.

Before you left, Wanda made sure to add both her and Natasha’s numbers to your phone, and then put yours in theirs. She followed it up by insisting you log into her Uber account. “You’re not paying for rides to our place,” she said, her tone firm but gentle, as though the matter was settled. Her quiet confidence made it clear this wasn’t just a one-time thing. You’d be back, she was certain of it, and somehow, that certainty gave you a strange sense of comfort, even as your emotions swirled inside.

You left their house feeling lighter, but still overwhelmed. The quiet warmth of Wanda’s comfort stayed with you, but so did the knot of uncertainty in your chest. Tomorrow would come soon enough, and with it, the weight of starting college. You didn’t know how you’d handle it, but for now, you just had to move forward.

—

Your first day of college had dragged on, with it being the first day, there was absolutely nothing interesting, just a never-ending loop of syllabi readings and assignments you could barely muster the energy to care about. Every class felt like a lecture in monotony, and you found yourself wondering, for the umpteenth time, why you’d even bothered to sign up for this.

You slouched into your seat, dragging your feet like the rest of the half-dead students shuffling in behind you.

You scanned the syllabus again, hoping maybe you’d missed something less soul-crushing the first time. Nope, dense readings, no extensions, mandatory participation. You didn’t know much about the professor for this class beyond the basics: she was strict, she was demanding, and she didn’t tolerate nonsense, and you could see that in her syllabus.

One class left. One more hour, and then you could go home, grab something greasy, and let Kate grill you about your mysterious Saturday night. You weren’t looking forward to that conversation, but at least it wasn’t another lecture.

Then the door opened, and everything came crashing down.

You barely looked up at first, expecting someone completely forgettable. Sensible shoes. A cardigan. Maybe a sigh as they pulled out their notes. But then you glanced up, and your stomach plummeted.

It was Natasha.

No. No. Not Natasha.

Professor Romanoff.

Your body froze, rigid, like a deer caught in headlights. Shit. You hadn’t asked her last name. Hadn’t asked what she did for work. You’d just assumed she was something powerful, a lawyer maybe. Never in your worst nightmares had you imagined she'd be standing at the front of your classroom, like she hadn’t just watched her wife tear you apart on their sofa the day before.

She moved to the front like she owned the ground she walked on. Back straight, jaw set, and when she turned to address the room, her eyes swept over the crowd like a searchlight, briefly landing on you. For a split second, your breath caught, but there was nothing in her gaze. No recognition. No warmth. Just a cold, professional indifference.

“Good afternoon,” she said, her voice low, controlled, and sharp. Just as you remembered it. “I’m Professor Romanoff. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours. And yes, they’re true. I expect discipline and respect. Follow my rules, and we’ll have no problems. Break them, and you’ll be out of this class without hesitation.”

Your chest tightened, and your head went foggy. Every word out of her mouth hit you like a wave crashing over you, one after the other, drowning you. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Your body buzzed with disbelief.

The rest of the class became a blur. She spoke, she walked through slides, she gestured to the syllabus, but all you could hear was static. Every syllable of her voice felt like nails on a chalkboard, scraping across your skin. The tension built in your chest until it was suffocating.

By the time class ended, you bolted from your seat, nearly knocking into someone in your haste to escape. The cool air outside was a relief, thin and sharp, but at least it wasn’t soaked in her perfume or her unyielding authority.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and your heart skipped a beat.

Natasha: We need to talk. Meet me at the gas station. You know the car.

It wasn’t a question, it was a command. A part of you wanted to switch your phone off, go home to Kate, crawl into bed, and pretend the message didn’t exist. But the other part, the one still reeling from how Natasha had looked straight through you like a stranger, knew ignoring her wouldn’t make this go away. It would only make it worse.

You texted Kate a rushed excuse and made your way to the gas station. Natasha was already parked, sunglasses on, face unreadable. You knocked lightly on the window. She didn’t say a word, just motioned for you to get in. You did.

“Where…where are we going?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, unsure if speaking was even allowed.

“To see Wanda,” she said tightly, jaw clenched. “This is going to break her heart.”

Your heart clenched, but you didn’t dare say anything else. Neither did she. The car ride passed in tense, suffocating silence, your pulse hammering harder the closer you got. By the time she pulled into the driveway, your stomach was twisted in knots.

Wanda opened the door with a smile, immediately pulling Natasha into a hug, her voice light. “Hi, my love,” she said, then glanced past her to see you, small and shaking behind. “Nat? Why’s our Little One here, looking like that?”

“Maybe she should explain,” Natasha said, her voice low, each word bitten off with sharp precision. The calm she’d worn like armour since she saw you cracked at the edges now, something colder slipping through, something furious.

Wanda blinked, visibly confused, her gaze shifting between the two of you as she guided you both inside with careful hands.

Inside, Natasha stayed standing, rigid, coiled across from you, while Wanda hovered by your side, concern etched into her brow. “Did something happen?” she asked carefully, though her eyes were already searching yours, catching how you shook.

Natasha let out a bitter laugh, dry, humourless, and dangerous. “You could say that,” she snapped, then turned to face you, eyes narrowing like twin blades. “It happened again, Wanda. We’re being used.”

The words were a slap. Your heart stuttered, and beside you, Wanda’s head snapped toward her wife, brows pulling into a deep, confused frown. “What?”

“She’s in my class,” Natasha spat. “My fucking class. She played the innocent routine, wormed her way in, probably thought that whoring herself out would get her better grades.”

“Natasha!” Wanda’s voice cracked through the air like a whip.

But you were already gasping. “N-no,” you managed to get out, “that’s not true! I didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

Natasha stepped closer. “You expect me to believe that?”

Yes!” Your voice cracked. “I didn’t know! I never saw your full name! The portal just said ‘Professor Romanoff’ and there wasn’t even a photo, I…I didn’t know it was you! I swear, I swear—!”

You backed up instinctively. Wanda’s hand caught your elbow, but it wasn’t grounding; your whole body was trembling, heat rising to your face, your limbs cold.

“No?” Natasha’s voice sliced through the air, cold and sharp, every word like a lash. “You just happened to end up in my class, right? You think I’m stupid?”

The words hit you like a freight train, but it wasn’t just the anger that crushed you; it was the way it landed, sharp and bitter, just like everything you’d heard your whole life. Your heart pounded in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, the words rushed out, desperate, broken.

“No! I’m the stupid one, okay?” you screamed, your voice high-pitched and strangled, raw with panic. The pressure in your chest felt like it might suffocate you. Your mind spiraled, racing through a thousand memories, a thousand voices all telling you the same thing. It was all crashing down on you, everything you feared, everything you hated about yourself, flooding to the surface.

“I’m stupid! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong, please, just, please believe me, please!” The words rushed out, tumbling over each other in a desperate rush. “I didn’t know! I swear, I didn’t know you were my professor! I should’ve known, I should’ve checked! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m just…I’m stupid, I’m so stupid…” Your voice broke, your knees feeling weak, your mind a blur of self-doubt.

You could barely see, everything blurred behind a wall of hot, stinging tears. The room faded around you, all sound drowned out by the roar of your breathing, the relentless pounding of your heart in your ears. You were spiralling, free-falling into that familiar place, the one carved out by years of being wrong, being too much, not enough, always failing. You had ruined everything again.

You didn’t see Natasha’s expression shift, didn’t catch the way her posture softened, the fire in her eyes dimming into something far more fragile, fear, concern, guilt. You didn’t notice her step forward, slow and cautious, pulled not by anger anymore but by instinct, by the quiet, urgent need to soothe. You didn’t see any of it.

All you registered was her hand rising toward your face. And your body reacted before your thoughts could. You flinched, violently, arms flying up to shield yourself, your whole body recoiling with a panicked jolt. You stumbled back, your breath catching in your throat, eyes wide and glassy with terror as you braced for impact.

Natasha froze. Her hand hung in the air, suspended in horror, fingers trembling. The colour drained from her face as the realisation hit: you were afraid of her. And it was clear that someone else had carved that fear into your bones long before now.

“Detka…(babe)” she breathed, voice shattered, barely more than a whisper.

You couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at Wanda either. You kept your arms up like a shield, like you could somehow disappear behind them, like maybe if you were small enough, quiet enough, sorry enough, they’d forget you’d ruined everything.

“I didn’t mean to….I didn’t know! I swear, I didn’t know,” you choked out, your voice thin and brittle, like glass about to crack. “I wasn’t trying to get anything from you, I wasn’t…I wasn’t using you, I wouldn’t, please.”

Your knees buckled slightly, your whole frame shaking, and finally, Wanda moved. “Oh, Sweetheart,” she whispered, rushing to your side, gently wrapping an arm around your waist before you could collapse completely.

Her hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you in, holding you like you might break apart. “No, no, darling, no one’s mad at you, okay? You’re okay, I promise, you’re safe.”

Natasha hadn’t moved. She was still standing in place, her jaw slack, her hand slowly lowering as her chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths. Her eyes were locked on you, wide and glassy.

“I thought—” she tried, but her voice failed. She swallowed hard, blinking fast, like she couldn’t quite breathe. “I thought it was happening again.”

Wanda glanced over her shoulder at her wife, her voice still low but firm. “She didn’t know, Nat...It was just fate.”

“I know,” Natasha whispered. “I know that now. I just, when I saw her in that room, it felt like before.” She let out a breath like she’d been holding it since the moment she walked into the classroom.

You peeked up through your lashes, finally daring to meet her eyes. The anger was gone. All that was left was guilt and something painfully soft.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” Natasha said, slowly, deliberately, her voice aching with apology. “I was, shit, I was trying to comfort you. I didn’t think—”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, because it was all you knew how to say.

Wanda stroked your hair gently, her voice firm. “You don’t need to be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong. Not one thing.”

But still, the words hung between the three of you like smoke.

Natasha stepped forward, painfully slow, eyes flicking from you to Wanda and back again. She crouched a little, dropping down to your level, her voice raw and barely holding together. “Can I…?” she asked, hand hovering just inches from your arm. “Can I touch you?”

Your breath hitched, but you gave the smallest nod.

The moment her fingers brushed your skin, everything in Natasha crumbled. She sank the rest of the way down, arms folding around you gently as Wanda kept one around your shoulders. The weight of both of them wrapped around you, solid and warm.

“I’ve got you,” Natasha murmured. “ We’ve got you.”

Natasha didn’t let go. Not for a long moment. Her arms stayed around you, gentle and steady, never demanding, just there, like a tether, like she was trying to imprint your shape into her bones, as if by holding you now she could somehow make up for every second she hadn’t before. You felt the way her hands trembled, how her breath caught against your skin.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed, the words cracking on the way out. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not a single fucking thing. This is on me. All of it.”

Your body was still stiff, every muscle drawn tight like a bowstring, your breaths coming in hiccupping, uneven bursts, your chest aching from how fast your heart was racing. But even through the storm inside you, you didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. Not when her voice sounded like it was breaking apart just to reach you.

“I should’ve seen you,” Natasha murmured, forehead pressed gently to your shoulder. “I should’ve looked. I should’ve listened. You were terrified, and I was too wrapped up in my own shit, too scared of being used, too angry to even ask. I didn’t give you a chance. I just assumed the worst. And I...”

“Nat…” Wanda said softly, a hand on her back now, grounding her.

But Natasha shook her head, voice raw. “No. She needs to hear this.”

She shifted just enough that you could feel the ghost of her breath against your throat, her hands still steady on your sides, but now you noticed the shake in her fingers. Not from rage. Not anymore.

“You looked at me like I was going to hit you,” she whispered. “And I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. But I need you to hear this, I will never hurt you like that. Not ever. Not unless you ask for it. Not unless we talk about it, plan for it, and make it safe.”

Your voice was barely audible, crushed beneath the weight of your own guilt. “It’s okay. It’s my fault. I didn’t know. I should’ve…I should’ve guessed, I should’ve asked, I’m so stupid—”

“Stop.” Wanda’s voice broke through, warm and firm. Her fingers tipped your chin up, her eyes locking with yours, full of calm and command. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to know everything.”

You whimpered, a soft sound full of doubt and disbelief, but you didn’t look away.

“You’re not stupid,” Natasha echoed, gentler now, her hand brushing your cheek in the softest touch. “I can tell you’ve been taught to expect the worst. To believe it’s always your fault. You’ve been made to apologise for existing, haven’t you?”

You nodded without meaning to, like your body had been waiting for someone to say it out loud for years.

And Natasha’s whole expression shifted, darkening, not with fury at you, but at the unseen ghosts still haunting you. Her voice dropped, low and furious, like a promise carved in steel. “Just one word from you, and I’ll destroy them, just tell me, Little One, and I’ll fix it.”

The title caught you off guard, like a splash of sunlight after days of rain. Your chest fluttered. Your heart squeezed.

“Little One?” Your voice trembled, barely a whisper, fragile and shaking under the weight of your doubt. “I’m still your Little One? After everything? You didn’t even want me in the first place…surely you can’t want me now?”

Natasha’s face crumpled, like it physically pained her to hear you say that, and in that instant, everything she had been holding back cracked wide open.

“Sweet girl…” she whispered, her voice raw, fingers trembling as they cupped your face. “Stop. Please. I wanted you. I want you. I care about you more than I ever thought possible.” Her voice was thick with emotion. “I was scared of how you made me feel. It came on so fast, and I didn't expect to care so soon. But you were so perfect with Wanda. So soft, so beautiful. And I pulled away because I was so afraid of getting lost in you, but fuck, I don’t care anymore. I’m done being scared.”

Behind you, Wanda’s arms tightened around your waist, pressing herself into you as if she, too, needed this moment of vulnerability. “We want you. Both of us, ” Wanda said quietly, her voice steady but full of feeling. “Don’t ever think we don’t.”

Your voice cracked as you looked at Natasha, your eyes full of uncertainty. “But…what about college?”

Natasha gave a small, determined shrug, the weight of her resolve settling in her gaze. “We’ll make it work. I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever. You’re ours.”

And in that moment, with both of them holding you, Natasha’s forehead pressed to yours, her grip grounding you like she was afraid to let go, Wanda’s warmth surrounding you from behind, you finally leaned into them completely.

That day had changed everything for both you and Natasha. For the first time in your life, you knew, without any doubt, that you could finally drop your walls.

Natasha, too, had her own shift. She realised, with a painful clarity, that by clinging to her past wounds, she wasn’t just hurting herself. She was hurting you. She was hurting Wanda. And even though you’d only known each other for a matter of days, there was a deep understanding between the three of you.

You felt it in your bones, the unspoken certainty that this was just the beginning. Something beautiful, something real, was waiting to grow between you all.

At first, despite the growing trust, things weren’t always easy. Especially when it came to punishment. There were moments, early on, when the balance wasn’t yet settled, when the rules were still new, still unfamiliar. Punishments were more frequent as you navigated this delicate dynamic, learning where the boundaries lay.

But any time you flinched in that way, any time your mind betrayed you, when the old instincts to recoil and protect yourself kicked in, they were there. They’d stop. They’d call the safeword, and the world would pause.

In those moments, no matter how intense the scene, no matter how harsh the lesson, they always made sure you knew one thing: you were safe. “Safe” wasn’t just a word; it was a promise.

With each moment they showed you that you were cared for, each time they respected your limits, it became easier. And then, eventually, there was a shift. You stopped flinching. You stopped questioning, stopped second-guessing.

The trust settled into you like a warm embrace, a sensation so profound you hadn’t even known it was possible. In their presence, you were safe, utterly, completely safe, and the weight of that truth was something you’d never imagined could exist.

Vulnerability no longer felt like a weight; it became a gift, something you could offer freely, without fear, because they had shown you that you didn’t need to protect yourself anymore. They would do that for you now. And in that space, you learned to give them everything, your trust, your heart, your willingness to surrender it all.

Because you knew, deep within your bones, that they would handle it with a tenderness, a devotion, that made you feel like you had finally come home.

—

Did I need to make this as angsty as I did? Probably not. But did I do it because I love exploring how trust builds after darkness? Definitely. What can I say, a damaged girl needing care and love is my thing. Sorry, not sorry. Hope you still enjoyed it!

Taglist: @angelicbrats @chansawrelier

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