Live Laugh and Shake Ass

Your mouth curled into a wicked grin as you studied the neon beacon that was her cheeks. “…you want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” you cooed, the words teasing but dripping heat.

She stared at you, lips parting in surprise. You weren’t laughing at her, weren’t looking at her in disgust or calling for a bouncer. You were… teasing her?

“I…” she swallowed so hard it looked painful. She glanced around frantically, as if checking to see if anyone had heard her propositioning you, before her eyes snapped back to yours, mortification and desire warring in the blue that looked almost purple under the club lights.

She nodded, the motion jerky and excited, like the need had overrode the panic.

“Yeah,” Patterson breathed, stepping closer to regain the distance her mild—okay, yes, maybe it was more than mild but in her mind, it was a simple… moment—panic had created. “I mean, yes. That is—uh, that is exactly what I want. I didn’t plan to say it like that. I had a whole speech prepared in my head about getting to know each other, maybe dancing first, but my brain seems to have bypassed all of the usual courting choices and gone straight to the part where I embarrass myself.”

You set your drink aside, arching a brow. “Well then… I must admit that is the most straightforward offer I’ve ever gotten in this place.”

Patterson’s tongue wet her lips, her eyes dropping to your mouth before darting back up to meet your gaze. “Is that a… yes? For you too? Or am I about to be escorted out by security for sexual harassment?”

Hands finding her waist almost possessively, you dragged her flush against you, breath ghosting over her lips, “Mm, it’s certainly not a no.”

Patterson squeaked, but it was swallowed by your mouth crashing into hers. Her body went pliant under your hands almost immediately, leaning against you as her lips parted under your tongue. She was warm and tasted like the overpriced booze the bartender had been plying her—

And it was fucking intoxicating.

When you broke the kiss, she swayed. Actually swayed, like her gravity had shifted and you were at the center of it.

"Oh," she breathed, the single word shaky and small. "Oh, that's—that's much better than I imagined. I imagined it a lot, by the way. Probably too much. Is there such a thing as too much? I think—"

You didn't let her finish. You grabbed her hand and began leading her through the crowd. The music hammered against your eardrums, bass thumping in time with your pulse as you navigated between bodies, Patterson stumbling slightly behind you in her haste to keep up.

The hallway to the restroom was bathed in red light, a little disorienting for Patterson, but you didn’t seem to care. Shoving open the door, you didn’t acknowledge the two women standing at the sinks, fixing their now smeared lipstick, but they shot you a knowing smirk as you dragged Patterson into the handicapped stall—larger, barely, than the others in the small space.

The lock clicked into place seconds before you pinned Patterson to the door. She was breathing hard, chest heaving under her top. Her hands were hovering, like she wanted to touch you but didn’t know how and it was… adorable.

“I’ve never done this before,” she whispered, “I mean, I know I already said this is all… new, but I-I want… you to show me. Please.”

Her eyes were on yours, her fingers dropping to the button of her jeans as she tried to fumble them open.

You grinned, a wicked, sharp curve of your lips before your hand clamped around her jaw. You tilted her head, holding her steady as your mouth claimed hers, tongue pushing past her parted lips, exploring the wet heat. Patterson let out a muffled, wrecked little noise against your probing, hands flying up and fingers digging frantically into the fabric at your shoulders just to keep her knees from giving out.

While your mouth kept her occupied, your free hand dropped to your own waistband. You popped the button and dragged the zipper down in one hurried, fluid motion. You needed her. Now.

The thick length of your strap-on sprang free from the denim, heavy silicone bobbing between you in the stall that felt too big and far too small all at once. You broke the kiss, leaving her gasping for air, her lips slick and swollen. Her eyes fluttered open—she didn’t even remember closing them—before her gaze dropped.

She froze. The trembling in her hands stopped completely as she stared at the thick shaft jutting out from your hips. She swallowed hard, a deep flush lighting its way up her throat.

"Oh," she breathed, the word coming out somewhat closer to a high, thin noise than a real word. She stared at your cock like she was trying to calculate just how much of that her body was about to take. "Oh, wow. That is... that is significantly larger than what I had imagined in my head. You just—you walk around with that? Just... ready?"

She looked back up at your face, her blue eyes blown wide, a mix of absolute shock and unadulterated lust making her pupils dilate. She licked her swollen lips, her fingers twitching at her sides, itching to touch but clearly too intimidated to cross the distance without permission.

"I'm going to need you to be... I mean, I want you to fuck me, but also maybe give me a second to adjust?" she babbled, yanking her own jeans down—finally—as her eyes stayed locked on the toy she’d hoped for but hadn’t quite anticipated. "Because I think you might actually split me in half. Which, for the record, I am entirely on board with. I want that. Just... Jesus…”

“Fuck, you’re adorable,” you chuckled, settling on the downed toilet seat and patting your thighs. “C’mere, beautiful… let me show you what you’ve been missing.”

The pet name seemed to short-circuit whatever was left of her higher brain functioning. "Okay," she breathed, her voice trembling but resolute. "Yes. Practical application. I'm a very fast learner."

She shoved the denim down her hips, kicking them off over her shoes so she could step completely free of the tangled fabric. The harsh fluorescent light caught the pale, soft curve of her thighs and the dark blonde curls between her legs, already slick and glistening with her own wetness.

It was utterly mouthwatering to see.

She straddled either side of your legs, feet planted firmly on the tile floor; the same tile floor she was trying not to think about her jeans sitting on because right now was not the time for her brain to start considering just how fucking gross this stall probably was. One hand lifted to grip your shoulder, the other dropping between her thighs to peel the drenched fabric away from her swollen, needy cunt.

“I’m trusting you…” she murmured, eyes wide and vulnerable as they met yours as she hovered above the crown of your cock.

“I’ve got you,” you promised seriously, gripping the base of the toy as your other hand held her hip, easing her down at a lazy pace. You weren’t going to rush this; you were determined to make her first time with a woman memorable but for the right reasons.

She bit down hard on her lower lip, her eyes squeezing shut for a second as she focused. You could feel how tense she was as she began to lower herself, the head of the toy pressing against her opening.

It was a stretch from the very first fraction of an inch and a sharp, high-pitched gasp tore from her throat, her fingers digging into your shoulders hard enough to bruise. Her entire body went rigid, trembling with the strain of holding herself up, adjusting to the thickness.

"Fuck," she whimpered, her voice cracking. "Oh, fuck, that's—it's a lot. It's so much. I can feel—" She choked, her hips stuttering as she sank down another half-inch.

You were watching her pussy swallow the cock, eyes dark with pleasure. “That’s it, baby. You’re doing so good…” Your arm looped around her waist, hand steady on her ass as you helped guide her.

Patterson let out a long, shuddering exhale, her entire body softening against you in increments, like tension physically unwinding from her spine. The arm looped around her waist seemed to unlock some of the panic in her chest, the frantic white knuckle of her grip on your shoulders easing slightly.

But it was your words that undid her.

The praise made her blood feel like it was on fire. She took the rest of your strap to the hilt in a single motion, head dropping forward to rest in the curve of your neck, lips parting with every pant. The sound of her cunt taking you to the base was quiet but it was music to your ears. She was so fucking wet—her need dripping onto your thighs even now—and gods, if those women were still in the restroom, they definitely knew what you were doing.

And you didn’t care.

“Fuck, baby… you look so pretty stretched out around my cock…” you groaned, doing everything in your power not to rut up into her like a beast. You were trying to be polite, goddammit.

“Oh God, oh—” her words dissolved into a keening whimper that vibrated against your skin. She was full; impossibly, overwhelming full, seated flush on your thighs with nowhere left to go. Her thighs were trembling, sweat already beginning to gather at the soft hollow of her neck.

"Move," she begged, sounding so undeniably desperate. Her hips gave an involuntary roll, grinding down harder against your lap. "Please."

One hand on her hip, the other cradling the side of her throat, you rolled your hips up in a slow grind. The rhythm started slow, a gentle rocking that was more about the friction than the depth, but the effect it had on Patterson was instantaneous.

"Aah!" The cry ripped out of her, loud and completely uncontrolled. Her head fell back, exposing the long, pale line of her throat, her mouth open in a silent O before she gasped for air. "Oh, God, that's—"

She was so wet that the slide was effortless, but the stretch was still immense, cunt fluttering around the intrusion like she was trying to memorize the shape of it.

You rolled up again, harder this time, and she slammed down to meet you, her thighs trembling violently.

"Listen to those pretty sounds you make on my cock..." you praised, an appreciative sound bubbling from your chest.

Patterson's face burned hotter, a fresh wave of crimson flooding her cheeks, but she didn't try to hide. Honestly, the praise seemed to short-circuit her entire being; a detail you were determined to remember for later.

She let out a low, broken moan, her hips bucking instinctively, chasing the friction. “I’m never been this loud. I didn’t know I could—oh fuck—be this loud. I can’t help it…” she rambled, head tossed back in pleasure.

Your hips shifted, changing the angle just enough to knock against that sweet spot inside her and her mouth dropped open, lips moving but no sound escaping.

“Look at you. Riding a stranger’s lap in a bathroom,” you cooed, fingers digging in almost bruisingly on Patterson’s hip, your other thumb stroking along her pounding pulse point.

Patterson moaned as the weight of what she was doing crashed down around her; she was riding a woman she’d met less than an hour ago in a filthy club bathroom—

And it was the hottest thing she’d ever done in her life.

Then you began to thrust, no longer caring for the slow rhythm you’d unintentionally fallen into. Every snap of your hips was rough, the slap of skin meeting skin filling the stall as your eyes studied her expression critically.

"God, it's so—" She broke off, her nails digging into your shoulders hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks through your shirt. She was moving frantically, her thighs burning with the effort but she didn't care. "It's so much better than the fantasy. The fantasy was—” she rolled her hips, whimpering, “was theoretical. This is better… much, much better…”

Your hand left her throat to tangle in her hair as you pulled her into an open-mouthed kiss that was more you panting into each other’s mouths than anything. The hand on her hip shifted down between her thighs, fingers massaging the swollen bundle of nerves you found waiting for you.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she whimpered against your lips, trembling from the overwhelming combination of sensations. She’d had sex before—obviously—but this was… this was new and exciting and fuck, why had she been denying herself this for years?!

"Too much," she gasped, pulling away just enough to get the words out, her eyes rolling back in her head. "It's too much, I can't—oh—oh, fuck—"

You didn't stop. You pounded up harder, faster, driving her toward the edge with one singular goal in mind. You wanted her to come.

Needed her to come.

Her head fell forward, her forehead pressing against yours, her entire body tense and desperate all at once. "I'm going to—" she whined, panting like she’d run a mile. "Please, don't stop. I'm going to…”

“Do it, beautiful… cum for me,” you rasped, pinching her clit just enough between your thumb and forefinger to make her hips jump.

Patterson had never thought a fucking pinch could send her crashing over the edge but tonight was clearly a night of firsts for her. Her head snapped back, mouth open in a silent scream that didn’t stay silent very long.

“Fuck!” she moaned, hips grinding in a tight circle as a full body tremble that started at the base of her spine before skyrocketing upward and outward.

Her eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking from the corners, her entire body shaking through the force of it. "I can't—I can't—" she gasped, the words dissolving into a whine as another wave hit her, making her toes curl. “It’s so good… so fucking good…”

Arms snapping up to band around her waist, you chuckled softly into the warm skin of her neck, holding her upright so she wouldn’t tip off your lap. “Easy, beautiful. I’ve got you.”

For a few long moments, there was only the sound of her panting and the dull bass of the music thudding through the walls, until a satisfied little noise escaped her parted lips. She practically melted into you, barely managing to wrap her limbs loosely over your shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice muffled by your shirt. "I'm sorry, I just—I couldn't be quiet. I tried, but you were—" She cut herself off, her face burning hot where it pressed against your skin. "You were very effective.”

Pulling back just enough to look at her, your hand lifted to brush a wild lock of blonde from her cheek. “Yeah?”

"That was..." She let out a breathless little laugh, her eyes darting down to where your bodies were still joined, then back up to your face. "That was significantly better than my research suggested it would be. And my research is usually very reliable."

“Huh, well… maybe you could tell me more about your research over dinner sometime?” you offered with a lazy—albeit hopeful—grin.

For a second, Patterson could only blink at you.

"Dinner," she repeated, the word coming out slow and careful, like she was testing the weight of it. She shifted slightly in your lap, the movement making her wince as the toy shifted inside her. "As in... a date? Where we sit across from each other and eat food and talk about things that aren't... this?"

Your grin only widened as you nodded. “Yeah, as in a date.”

"Like... with clothes on?" she clarified, immediately wincing as soon as the words registered, her face flushing a fresh shade of pink. "I mean, obviously with clothes on. I'm not suggesting we go to a restaurant naked. Although, given the last twenty minutes, you might think I'm the type who would do that. I'm not. I have a very healthy respect for public indecency laws. Most of the time."

She laughed, the sound so utterly enamored that it took your breath away, and leaned forward, resting her forehead against yours. The position was intimate, blue eyes searching your face for any sign of a joke.

“Yes. I-I would really like that.” She nodded definitively, the gesture sending her nose nudging against yours. “I have so much research. An alarming amount, really. About everything.”

“…and I look forward to learning all about it,” you answered, words so sincere that it surprised even you.

the room was dark except for the faint blue glow of the charger lights on danielas nightstand. you were in her bed again, it happened a lot lately. you’d fallen asleep watching a movie on her laptop this time. legs tangled with hers under the covers, and neither of you had bothered moving. she was on her back, one arm flung above her head, the other resting loose on her stomach. tiny sleep shorts and a tshirt that was probably yours, slipped up just enough to show the soft curve of her waist. her curls were a mess across the pillow, lips parted, breathing slow and even.

she looked so gorgeous it made your chest hurt. but your dick was throbbing so hard it was actually painful.

you laid on your side, facing her, the dream you’d just woken up from a couple minutes ago clinging onto you. daniela’s voice still echoed in your head, the way she whispered about how good you felt, how deep you were, how she needed every inch. you had woken up with your cock already aching and straining against the fabric of your sweatpants

you tried to ignore it. rolled onto your back, stared at the ceiling, counted your breaths. tried to think about anything else— literally anything. but it didn’t work.

“fuck” you whispered, barely a sound.

her body had shifted in her sleep, now curled on her side facing the wall. you told yourself you’d just get a little closer, just to feel her warmth. nothing more.

you slid over until your chest was almost touching her back, careful not to wake her. your hand hovered, then settled lightly on her hip. she sighed in her sleep, pressing back just a fraction, and the soft curve of her ass brushed right against your cock. you had to physically stop yourself from letting out a groan.

a minute passed with you just breathing her in, but your hips had a mind of their own. a tiny, helpless roll forward made the head of your cock nudge between her thighs, pressing right against the warm seam of her shorts. Your whole body tensed up, afraid of her waking up.

though, daniela didn’t wake up yet. she just let out another soft breath and shifted again, thighs parting the tiniest bit.

you couldn’t help it. you had to be inside her. just the tip, just to feel her, just for a second. you wouldn’t move. you’d be good.

gently hooking a finger into the waistband of her shorts, you eased them down just enough, along with her panties, until her bare pussy was exposed to the cool air. she was already a little wet— the sight made your mouth water and your cock leak another bead of precum.

you freed yourself from your boxers, thick and heavy and aching. the head was already slick. you lined up carefully, pressing the tip against her folds. she was soft and warm. you pushed in— just the head.

the stretch was perfect. tight, heat wrapped around you and you had to shove your face into the pillow to muffle the broken whimper that ripped out of you. fuck. she felt even better than the dream. you stayed there, barely inside. every throb of your cock made her flutter around you in her sleep. you didn’t thrust. you just… stayed inside her, letting her warmth pulse around the sensitive head while you tried not to lose your mind.

minutes passed like that. your hips gave the smallest, involuntary roll— just a tiny rock forward, and that was when she stirred.

daniela’s breath hitched. her lashes fluttered. you froze, dick still halfway buried, panic slamming into you 

“shit— dani, i’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking. “i didn’t mean to— i was just so fucking hard and i—”

her eyes cracked open, sleepy and dark. she blinked slow, like she was still half in a dream, to sleepy to even pick up what you just said. then she felt youstretching her open,  and her lips parted on a soft, surprised little “oh.”

you started to pull out immediately, face burning. “i’ll stop, i swear, i was just—”

her hand shot down, fingers wrapping weakly around your wrist before you could pull away. she stirred slowly, rolling onto her side to face you, eyes still heavy with sleep.

“don’t,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep and something warmer. “feels… feels good.”

you stilled. “yeah?”

she nodded, slow and lazy, hips shifting just enough to take you in again. a tiny whimper slipped out of her. “mmm… you’re so warm inside me. stay.”

your brain short-circuited. you slid the rest of the way in again. slow and careful. her eyes fluttered shut

“f-fuck, dani—” you breathed, forehead dropping to her shoulder.

she made this soft, needy sound in the back of her throat and wrapped one leg around your hip, pulling you closer. “move a little… please? just slow.”

you obeyed without thinking. gentle rolls of your hips, barely pulling out before sliding back in. the room was quiet except for the wet little sounds of you moving inside her and the soft, breathy whimpers you couldn’t hold back.

you feel so good,” she whined. “so deep… i didn’t know it would feel like this.”

you buried your face in her neck, kissing the warm skin there like you were scared to stop. “yeah? you like it? i was so fucking hard i couldn’t stop thinking about you.. i’m sorry, i know this is weird—”

“shh,” she cut you off with a shaky little moan, nails scratching lightly down your back. “don’t be sorry. it feels really good. you’re so thick… filling me up like this.”

you were both letting out little gasps and whines every time you sank back into her. her hips rolled up to meet yours, clumsy and desperate, like she couldn’t get enough. You kept the pace slow, letting her feel every single inch.

“dani… i’m not gonna last,” you whimpered against her throat, voice cracking. “you feel too perfect— i’ve wanted this for so long but i never thought—”

“inside,” she gasped, tilting her hips up again. “please… i want to feel it.”

that was all it took.

you buried yourself as deep as you could go and came with a shaky, muffled cry into her shoulder. thick, warm spurts pulsed inside her, again and again, until you were trembling and oversensitive and still rocking into her in tiny, helpless movements. daniela whined softly, clenching around you through it, milking every last drop like she needed it just as bad.

you didn’t pull out, you stayed buried to the hilt, both of you panting, bodies sticky with sweat and cum. she nuzzled into your neck, pressing lazy kisses there while you tried to catch your breath.

“stay like this,” she whispered, already sounding half-asleep again. “don’t wanna feel empty yet.. feels too good.”

you nodded, too blissed out to speak. you shifted just enough to pull the covers back over both of you, still connected, still soft and warm inside her. her leg stayed hooked over your hip. your hand found hers under the pillow and you laced your fingers together without thinking.

the last thing you felt before you drifted off was her pressing a sleepy kiss to your jaw and murmuring, “we should… probably talk about this in the morning.”

you fell asleep with your cock still tucked deep inside her, you’d deal with the mess of  whatever this was later.

a/n: when does posting on here get less scary….. also i’m 99% sure that ending isn’t safe irl whatsoever but it’s about the vision i guess.

“Nervous?” Yelena teased knowingly, settling beside you. “You look like a crab realizing it is in a pot of boiling water.”

“I’m not nervous,” you insisted, though the slight tremble of your fingers stripped away the lie before it could form.

“Uh huh,” she cooed, staring at you with a patronizing little smirk that only made your face warm. “Anyways—” she pressed a small Polaroid photo into your hand, her grin all teeth, “—first installment. Do not open it until I’m gone. Or do. I’m not your boss.”

She winked and sauntered back into the house, leaving you to your… gift.

Carefully flipping it over, your breath caught so hard in your chest that you immediately let out a wheezing sound that would’ve been embarrassing if anyone had been around to hear it.

Natasha was staring back at you.

She was positioned on what looked like a vintage chaise lounge, wearing nothing but a white garter belt and stockings, her legs crossed at the ankle. One arm was draped over her head, the red hair spilling across the upholstery. Her eyes were half-lidded, looking directly into the camera with an expression that made your stomach flip. Her breasts were obscured artfully by her knees, and only the neatly trimmed red curls above her mound visible.

The angle was incredible—but so goddamn frustrating. She was posed perfectly; artistic enough for a gallery, explicit enough to make your blood rush south immediately.

On the back, written in black ink: "One of five. Try to keep your hands steady while you say your vows. - N"

Gasping when you finally registered what you were looking at, you slammed the glossy image against your chest, glancing around to make sure no one else was around before—

You peeked back down at it, mouth so dry that your tongue felt like it’d turned into sandpaper.

“…holy shit,” you whispered.

You didn’t know how long you were standing there, just gawking at the stunning photo you’d been gifted, when a familiar whistle brought you out of the haze.

“Easy there, champ. You look like me when I see a new arc reactor blueprint”

Tony leaned against the terrace doorframe, already in his tailored suit, sunglasses perched on his nose despite the overcast sky. He held two glasses of orange juice, one of which he extended toward you. “Hydration. Big day. Can’t have you passing out before you say ‘I do.’” His eyes flicked down to the photo you were clutching.

You tucked the photo into the inner pocket of your tux jacket, accepting the orange juice. “Thanks.”

Downing the drink in two heavy swallows, it did nothing to calm your racing heart or sweaty palms.

“You good? You’ve got that ‘I’m about to spontaneously combust’ look going on.”

Exhaling heavily through your nose, you announced with a strange—for you—seriousness, “I am marrying the hottest woman alive and her hotness is going to kill me before I make it to the altar.”

Tony grinned, clapping you once on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

Photo Two:

Thirty minutes later, you were mingling with a few people you barely recognized, a handful of SHIELD agents whose names you didn’t know. They were babbling on about something and you were proud to say your libido had calmed down enough for you pretend like you cared.

…mostly.

Making another lap along the transformed garden, you found Kate sitting on the gazebo’s bottom step, dressed in a black pantsuit that looked like she'd borrowed it from someone twice her age. She looked up as you approached, a wide grin spreading across her face.

"Okay," she said, standing up quickly. "I need you to not freak out."

She patted her jacket pockets, searching. "Yelena already gave you one, right? Good. Because I have photo number two and I have been waiting all morning to give this to you." She finally found the photo, holding it out like a winning lottery ticket, ignoring your hiss to ‘put it down, Bishop’. "Natasha made me promise I'd give it to you before you saw her in the dress. She was very specific about that."

Kate stepped closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "She was blushing. Like, actually blushing when she showed me. I've never seen her blush before. It was—" She shook her head, laughing. "She's so gone for you. It's actually disgusting."

Snatching it from her, you turned the photo around to face you.

Natasha was standing this time, her back to the camera, looking over her shoulder. She wore a leather jacket and nothing else except a pair of black lace panties that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The shot captured her mid-turn, the curve of her spine barely visible, the muscles in her shoulders and arms defined and strong. Her red hair was loose, cascading down over the leather in a way that felt way too obscene for something so innocent. The panties sat low on her hips, and you could see the dimples of her spine, the slight definition of her thighs. She was looking back at the camera with half a smile, one eyebrow raised. The confidence was palpable; the dangerous kind that came from knowing exactly what she was offering.

On the back, in that same handwriting: "Two down. Three to go. Try not to ruin your tux before the ceremony. - N"

Kate was watching you with barely contained delight. "Your face right now is absolutely priceless," she whispered.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you squeaked, shoving the photo into your jacket with the first, careful not to damage them. “…this woman wants me to have a heart attack. That’s what this is…”

Kate bounced on her heels, clearly riding the high of being part of whatever insane plan this was. "She's been in hair and makeup for two hours. I peeked in earlier and—" She shook her head, laughing. "You're so fucked. In the best way."

“Kate, I am already fucked. I… she…” you blew a short exhale, chuckling despite the ache tightening your lower belly.

Kate checked her watch. "Okay, real talk: you've got about forty minutes before you need to be at the altar. Tony's got the third one, but he won't give it to you until right before the ceremony starts. He's being dramatic about it."

She gave your arm a squeeze, her grip surprisingly firm and it was a reminder of how she’d earned her spot with Natasha’s team. "You've got this. Just don't pass out. Clint would never let you live it down."

Photo Three:

The altar stood at the edge of the estate's gardens, white fabric draped across a wooden arch wrapped in roses and baby's breath. The late morning sun cast dappled shadows through the canopy above, scattering light across the newly crafted stone pathway. Rows of white chairs stretched behind you, filled with faces you recognized and some you didn't—SHIELD operatives, Avengers associates, a handful of your own people.

Clint stood beneath the arch, wearing a charcoal suit instead of his usual gear. He looked almost dignified. He caught your eye and gave you a small nod, his expression warm and knowing.

Your hands were, in fact, shaking. You shoved them into your pockets to hide it.

"You look like you're about to storm a building." Tony materialized at your elbow, a slight smile playing at his lips. He was holding a champagne flute, still full, and in his other hand…

A Polaroid.

He didn't hand it over immediately. "She was very insistent that you get this one at the last possible second," he said. "Said something about 'peak anticipation.'" He handed you the photo, face down. "I've been sitting on this for an hour. It was physically painful not giving it to you early."

Turning your back to the gathering crowd, you glanced at the glossy image.

This time, Natasha was on her knees. The angle was from slightly above, looking down at her. She wore a white button-down shirt—you were fairly certain it was one of yours—unbuttoned completely, the fabric pulled off her shoulders so it pooled around her elbows. Her breasts were fully visible, her nipples hard and flushed. Her hands were resting on her thighs, hips thrust forward slightly.

The shirt was the only thing covering her, and it was barely doing its job.

Her face was tilted up, chin lifted, eyes locked on the camera with an expression that could only be described as desperate. Like she was worshipping whoever stood on the other side of the lens. Her lips were slightly parted, shiny with gloss, the corner of her mouth curved into the smallest smile.

She looked powerful and vulnerable at the same time, like a woman who could kill you with just her thighs but the kind of woman you wanted to kill you with her thighs.

On the back, the handwriting was messier this time, almost rushed: "I knelt for this one thinking about you on your knees for me. After the ceremony. After. - N"

You were so enamored with the sight, you didn’t realize your mouth was gaping… or that Clint was clearing his throat impatiently… or that the entire fucking wedding was waiting on you to turn the back around.

"(Y/N)," Tony stage-whispered from somewhere to your left. "You might want to pocket that before Clint shoots you with an arrow for making everyone wait."

Photo Four:

The walk back down the aisle was a blur of cheering faces, flying birdseed, and the heavy, intoxicating reality of Natasha’s hand in yours, walking with you—as your wife. The string quartet had seamlessly transitioned into an upbeat piece that felt more like a victory march than a wedding recessional, but honestly, they could’ve been playing Hot Cross Buns for all you cared.

You were fucking married!

The reception was set up on a sprawling terrace behind the main house, where a massive clear-top tent housed tables, a sprawling dance floor, and a bar that Tony had undoubtedly overstocked. Wait staff were already circulating with trays of hors d'oeuvres.

As soon as you crossed the threshold into the reception space, guests began to swarm, eager to offer congratulations. Wanda stepped through the gap of friends rushing to greet you both. She looked deeply amused, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she approached.

"Congratulations," Wanda said softly, looking between you with genuine affection. She’d been one of your biggest supporters throughout your entire relationship and this was the payoff she’d been hoping for. She embraced Natasha first, whispering something that made the redhead laugh, then turned to you.

She wrapped her arms around your shoulders for a brief hug and as she pulled back, you felt the distinct slide of a hand slipping directly into your outer jacket pocket. Her sleight of hand was flawless; no one else in the crowd noticed a thing. Or maybe it was magic. Truthfully, you had no clue anymore.

Wanda’s eyes flicked down to your pocket, then back up to your face. Her smile widened.

"Natasha said to tell you that this one requires... privacy," Wanda said quietly, ensuring her voice didn't carry over the music. "I would suggest the bathroom inside the house. I just checked. It is currently empty."

Natasha caught your eye from a few feet away, currently trapped in a conversation with Maria, but watching you with absolute knowing…and truthfully, you’d never felt more like a deer caught by a bear than in that moment.

Slipping away from the crowd, you wandered into the house and ducked into the east hallway. Tugging the photo from your jacket, you damn near swallowed your tongue.

Natasha was lying on dark sheets, completely naked, with her legs spread wide and knees bent. Her left hand was between her thighs, two fingers buried deep inside her dripping pussy. Thumb pressed against her swollen clit, you could see the way arousal clung to her knuckles, like she’d been touching herself for a while to get this shot.

She looked… hungry.

“Keep your hands to yourself during the speeches. - N” was scripted along the back of the photo, a warning and a tease all at once.

Photo Five (The Finale)

You didn’t remember dinner. Didn’t remember forcing down food you weren’t tasting while people gave speeches you didn’t hear. Why? Because you had four pictures of your gorgeous wife—the same gorgeous wife sitting beside you, one hand above the table, the other on your thigh—and one final one left.

When Natasha’s hand landed on your arm, you jumped. You’d been so lost in thought.

“Cake cutting time,” she murmured with a knowing smirk, arching a brow. “And don’t you dare smash it in my face.”

You chuckled, nodding seriously. “I know. You already told me we’d be getting an annulment if I do that to you.”

“Damn right. It’s archaic and stupid. I didn’t spend hours letting Wanda do my makeup just for frosting to ruin that.”

The cake was an ostentatious, three-tiered thing Tony had insisted on buying for the wedding and you’d just been so happy you were marrying Natasha that you never thought to question it. Both of you managed to cut a slice without a disaster—which, all things considered, that felt like a miracle—before Natasha’s hand touched your chest…

Sliding one final picture into your suit.

“Your final gift,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Why don’t you take a look at it before the first dance? Because afterwards—” her hand smoothed over your shirt, “I want you to take me inside and fuck my brains out. Am I clear?”

Swallowing dryly, your head nodded so jerkily that you were fairly certain you looked like a bobblehead.

“…yes, ma’am.”

Turning your back to the room, you retrieved the pièce de résistance and shielded it with your body like it was a live grenade.

Natasha was straddling a black leather bench, her body slick with sweat. She was riding a massive, veiny silicone dildo, angle low and unforgiving, capturing the exact point of where it disappeared into her cunt. Her head was thrown back, red hair hanging in a messy tangle down her spine. One of her hands gripped the edge of the bench for leverage, knuckles white, while her other hand was clamped hard over her breast, her fingers aggressively pinching a tight, dark pink nipple. The sheer physical strain in her thighs and stomach made it clear she was driving herself down hard on the toy—

The noise that escaped your throat was inhuman. Like a pterodactyl getting shot out of the fucking sky. There was no way to describe the rush of arousal that rocketed through your veins.

“Like what you see?” Natasha teased, her lips close to your ear as she plastered herself against your side.

“…so fucking much.”

She laughed, the sound only spurring you on. “Come dance with me… then I’ll let you see that in person.”

Slipping the photo back into your jacket, you turned your head to look at your wife—this incredible, wonderful woman you’d never thought you’d deserved but somehow managed to keep anyways—and smiled. It wasn’t lustful or even heated, just… awed.

“I am so fucking in love with you, Mrs. Romanoff,” you breathed, cupping her jaw. “My sun and moon.”

Her expression softened as she leaned into your touch. “…my end and my beginning,” she answered just as quietly, eyes meeting yours. “Now, let’s have our first dance and then get the fuck out of here.”

You made your way to the kitchen, where your stepmom was putting the finishing touches on two plates of chicken and pasta. You stood there for a moment, admiring the way her nose scrunched up in concentration as she sprinkled parmesan on the pasta. You couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked, even in her casual clothes, with her hair slightly messy and a thin sheen of sweat on her skin from cooking.

You’d always had a crush on Wanda, despite the fact that she was your stepmom. She was more of a real parent to you than your father ever was and she supported you in everything you did, constantly motivating you to work harder academically. In fact, most of your drive to do well in school stemmed from a craving for her approval, a desire to make her proud of you, and you were okay with that as long as your work was completed on time.

Wanda was always so lovely to you too, complimenting you on your efforts and praising you when you did well, and it never failed to make your heart flutter. You never intended to rely on her as much as you did, nor did you intend to start crushing on her as hard as you were. On top of being a genuinely kind person and an amazing stepmom, she was also stunning.

You were taken aback the first time you met her, mesmerized by alluring green eyes, and you couldn’t help but wonder what a woman like her saw in your father. The fact that she was sweet on you didn’t help your growing feelings for her, and neither did her overly touchy nature. She was constantly finding ways to have her hands on you - whether it was a hand on your back in the kitchen as she spoke to you or a hug that lasted longer than you felt was appropriate - and it drove you crazy.

You tried to convince yourself that you didn’t actually want her like that, but it was becoming harder and harder to deny it, especially when your father was always gone on another business trip, leaving you alone with her for weeks at a time.

When Wanda noticed you standing across the room, she looked up with a smile.

“How’s the essay coming along, malysh?” She asked, moving around the kitchen island until she was next to you, her hand rubbing your shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s fine, I’m about halfway done I think,” you responded, clearing your throat and trying to ignore the way her soothing touch was setting your nerves alight.

“That’s good, I’m proud of you,” she cooed, her words making you feel warm inside. She often had that effect on you and this was no exception. Her arm reached around you to pull you closer, half hugging you, before she moved away to set the table.

You managed a smile and a “thank you” before you helped her, bringing utensils to where she set the plates down and taking a seat across from her.

“I know you’ve been working so hard on your studies lately, dear, but have you been remembering to rest too?” Wanda questioned, an eyebrow raised as she took in your tired state. You’d been working tirelessly this week due to your finals and you certainly hadn’t been sleeping well. You were hoping that Wanda wouldn’t notice, but she always did.

“I- sort of,” you mumbled, not wanting to lie to her, but also not wanting to disappoint her with the truth.

“I’m not sure I believe that,” Wanda chuckled, steadying her fork so she could cut into her chicken. Luckily, she dropped the subject after that, instead asking you how other aspects of your life had been going and telling you about her week.

The two of you carried on a casual conversation as you ate, and you didn’t hesitate to tell Wanda how amazing her cooking was, to which she responded with an appreciative smile.

A comfortable silence fell over you before Wanda spoke again.

“So, any cute girls in your classes?” She asked curiously, catching you off guard. You immediately felt awkward, unsure of how to discuss your love life with the woman you were crushing on.

“Not really,” you shrugged, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.

“Hm, that’s surprising,” she commented skeptically.

You quickly corrected yourself. “I mean, there are cute girls, just no one that I’m interested in.”

Wanda nodded in understanding, satisfied with your answer, before standing up to take your plates to the kitchen.

“Would you like to watch a movie tonight?” She asked, placing the plates in the sink. “It’s your turn to pick one.”

You and Wanda had a tradition of watching movies together at least once a week. It usually ended up with you curled into Wanda’s side on the couch, your head on her shoulder and her arm around you as you watched whatever movie had been put on. It was one of your favorite experiences, something you looked forward to every week.

You always cherished your alone time with Wanda, especially your movie nights since it was an excuse to practically cuddle with her and feel close to her, which is why you suddenly felt so bad, knowing that you’d have to turn her down this week.

“I’d love to, but I really need to finish this essay,” you sighed. “It’s due tomorrow night.”

Wanda hid her disappointment behind a supportive smile, stepping towards you. “That’s okay, detka, I know it’s a busy week for you,” she said, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “We can watch whatever movie you want after your finals, how does that sound?” Her thumb stroked your cheek as she spoke and no matter how often Wanda touched you like this, it never failed to have an effect on you.

“That sounds good,” you responded, almost stuttering. “And thank you for dinner, it was delicious.”

“Of course.” She leaned in to kiss your forehead, before taking a step back to continue cleaning up the kitchen. “I know you have to get back to it, so I’m gonna finish up in here and then I’ll be in my room reading if you need anything, okay?”

You were still reeling from the affection, nodding in acknowledgment and mumbling a “thanks” as you left the kitchen.

“Don’t stay up too late!” You heard Wanda call out as you grabbed your laptop from the living room table. You could only chuckle, knowing you would most likely be up half the night finishing your work.

You made your way to your room and sat at your desk, plugging in your laptop to the charger before trying to focus on writing again. Eventually you found a rhythm, alternating between sharing your thoughts on the topic and citing sources to support your side.

It was late when you finally decided to head to bed, turning off the light and sliding under the covers with a sigh. It seemed you were more tired than you realized, as the feeling of your bed beneath you was a welcome relief.

Finals week hadn’t been easy on you and late nights had become your regular for the past couple of weeks. You were so close to finishing the semester and every time you felt like giving up, you were reminded of why you worked so hard in the first place - Wanda.

You let your mind wander to thoughts of your stepmom, how proud she would be knowing you did well in all of your classes, the praise she would give you and how it would make you feel. You couldn’t wait for your upcoming movie night; you craved the familiar feeling of her body pressed against yours on the couch, the closeness to her that nothing else could compare to.

You only wished you could be even closer to her, often daydreaming about what it would be like to kiss her, to feel your lips against hers, to swallow her sounds as you ran your hands over her body. It felt wrong to want her that way, to lust after someone who was essentially your mother figure, but you couldn’t help it.

You tried to remind yourself that Wanda was married - to your father nonetheless - and that nothing would ever happen between the two of you, but not even the harsh reality of your situation could stop you from wanting her.

You huffed as you rolled over in bed, feeling exhausted but unable to sleep, your mind racing with thoughts of Wanda. You spent so many of your nights thinking of her, wishing you were laid beside her, holding her or being held by her, imagining the cuddles and sleepy kisses the two of you could share if your situation was different.

Some nights the thoughts were innocent, your desire to feel close to her manifesting in those simple fantasies of sharing a bed with her. Other nights, you longed to feel her even closer, shamefully allowing yourself to picture her beneath you, head thrown back and hips bucking as you made her cum for you. You wondered what she looked like when she came, what she sounded like, what she tasted like.

You knew you shouldn’t have these thoughts and the frustration brought on by your relationship to Wanda made you want to cry. It was a constant battle - the shame, the jealousy, the yearning - and it was slowly getting to you.

Just as you were finally starting to drift off to sleep, you heard what sounded like a groan coming from down the hall. You opened your eyes and listened closely, wondering if something was wrong. You figured Wanda would be asleep by now with how late it was, but when you heard another muffled sound through the walls, it was obvious she wasn’t.

Worried she’d hurt herself or needed help, you dragged yourself out of bed and headed down the hall, stopping just outside of her room. The door was slightly ajar and just as you were about to push it all the way open, another sound escaped the woman on the other side and this time it was unmistakable, realization hitting you like a truck.

Those weren’t sounds of pain, they were moans of pleasure. And when you peered through the gap in the doorway, it was confirmed. Wanda was touching herself, one hand beneath her panties, fingers working against herself, the other gripping the bedsheets as she let another breathy moan.

It felt like something you shouldn’t be seeing, but you couldn’t look away. The sight before you was so erotic, so breathtaking; you were entranced as you watched her touch herself, her head thrown back against the pillows, her face scrunched up in pleasure, her hips subtly moving against her hand. Soft, needy moans escaped her parted lips and just hearing her was enough to make you wet.

You knew you should leave, that you should respect her privacy and go back to your room, but the sight of her was hypnotizing. You shifted uncomfortably as you watched her, squeezing your legs together as arousal clouded your judgment. One word uttered by the other woman brought you back to reality.

“Y/N,” Wanda moaned, her breathing uneven as she chased her orgasm.

There was no way you heard that right.

For a second, you thought you’d been caught, that she was calling out your name because she’d seen you standing there. Your blood ran cold and you froze, immediately feeling the shame and embarrassment of being caught watching her masturbate. But Wanda’s gaze never found yours, her eyes remained closed and her hand kept moving under her panties.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so good,” she panted out, curling her fingers inside of herself, her palm nudging her clit with every thrust.

Your mouth fell open when you realized what was happening, blush painting your cheeks and arousal pooling in your lower belly at the thought.

Wanda was thinking about you while touching herself.

It was overwhelming in the best way - the sight of your stepmom bringing herself pleasure, the heavenly moans escaping her as she brought herself closer to the edge, the faint sound of her fucking herself, and god, she sounded so wet. The fact that she was thinking about you while she got off was the cherry on top and you had to stifle a groan at how turned on you were.

You couldn’t believe that Wanda would reciprocate your feelings for her, at least to some extent. You briefly thought that you should pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming. You’d always felt bad for lusting after her, for desiring her in ways that were not appropriate for a stepdaughter to feel about her stepmother, but the knowledge that she desired you too filled you with warmth.

You wished you could see her, really see her, without the barrier of clothing in the way. You wanted to see how she fucked herself, wanted to know how many fingers she was using and watch how her pussy stretched around them. You wouldn’t complain though, not when you were already enjoying this so much.

Wanda’s moans rose in pitch, her hips becoming more frantic against her hand, and you knew she was close. Your pussy throbbed at the sight of her falling apart and you fought the urge to touch yourself with her.

With a couple more thrusts of her fingers inside of herself, Wanda was cumming with a series of loud moans, her back arching off the bed, her hips stuttering as she reached her peak.

Watching Wanda cum was better than anything you could’ve imagined, she looked unbelievably sexy falling apart and you committed the sight to memory in case you never got to see it again.

She pulled her fingers out of herself, removing her hand from her panties, and hummed in satisfaction as she caught her breath. You took this as your cue to leave, sneaking quietly down the hall until you were back in your own room.

You found yourself back in bed, unsure of how you were supposed to fall asleep after what you’d just witnessed. You were turned on beyond belief, your mind filled with images of Wanda touching herself. You felt bad for watching, for invading her privacy, but how could you not when she sounded so good moaning your name?

Now that you knew what she sounded like chanting your name as she chased her release, you couldn’t help but imagine being the one fucking her senseless, making her feel so good as you touched her and kissed her everywhere you wanted to.

You groaned as you rolled over; you couldn’t get the image of Wanda masturbating out of your head, but at the same time, you wished the memory would never fade.

You wished you could see it again.

After tossing and turning amidst sinful thoughts of your stepmom, you eventually succumbed to sleep. You woke up to your alarm going off, already feeling the exhaustion from being up so late. It was hard not to just silence your phone and go back to sleep.

Your body protested as you sat up and reluctantly pulled yourself out of bed, getting ready to start your day. You got dressed and brushed your teeth before heading downstairs, hoping a cup or two of coffee would wake you up.

Wanda was in the kitchen when you entered, pouring herself a cup of coffee and making her way to the fridge for creamer. She was wearing a short, lacy nightgown and when she bent down to grab the creamer, you almost choked on air. The thin fabric of her slip left little to the imagination and the view of her ass as she leaned towards the lower shelves of the fridge was almost too much for you.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to look away as she turned around.

“Good morning, Y/N,” she greeted, smiling at you sweetly as she poured the creamer into her coffee. Wanda was acting completely normal around you, as if she hadn’t been moaning your name into the night less than eight hours ago. You hadn’t considered how awkward being around her would be after the events of the previous night, especially when she didn’t even know you were present for it.

“Good morning,” you responded, avoiding eye contact as you made your way towards the coffee pot.

“How did you sleep, malysh?” Wanda asked, coming over to you to place a hand on your back, rubbing in circles. You nearly shuddered at the feeling of her touching you, but you kept your composure.

“I slept okay,” you answered, and it wasn’t entirely untrue - you didn’t sleep terribly, you just wished you’d slept more. “What about you?”

Wanda raised an eyebrow as she leaned against the counter next to you. “You don’t seem like you slept okay. Late night?”

“Sort of,” you responded, trying not to think about why you were up so late.

“Oh detka,” she cooed, stirring her coffee. “I know it’s finals week and you’re working hard, but you need to take care of yourself too.”

While you appreciated how much she cared about you and your wellbeing, you also wanted to laugh at how oblivious she seemed. She had no idea she was the reason you’d barely slept, tossing and turning for hours as vivid images of her touching herself invaded your mind.

You collected your thoughts and looked up at her. “I know, I’m taking care of myself, I promise,” you reassured her, not wanting her to press the matter any further.

“Good,” she purred, gently running her fingers through your hair. Every little thing she did made you melt and you wished it wasn’t so hard to act normal around her, especially now that you knew what she sounded like in the throes of pleasure.

Wanda leaned back, taking a sip of her coffee before walking over to the fridge. “Do you have class today?” She asked casually, as if she hadn’t just made you so flustered.

“Um, no, I just have a final exam this afternoon,” you managed.

“Good luck with your exam, sweetheart,” she said sweetly, grabbing a carton of eggs. “Since it’s this afternoon, does that mean you have time for breakfast?”

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded, your response bringing a smile to Wanda’s face.

“Perfect, you enjoy your coffee and I’ll make breakfast for us. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” With that, Wanda began moving around the kitchen, bending over again to look through the cabinet below the stove. You almost groaned at how revealing her slip was and decided to leave the kitchen while you still had your sanity.

You spent some time in the living room drinking your coffee and scrolling through your phone until Wanda called out for you. You joined her at the kitchen island and conversed lightly over breakfast, discussing your busy week and making plans with her for when finals were over. You tried to ignore the way her usual teasing and touchiness was making you feel, instead focusing on how good it felt to be around her, enjoying her company and your conversation.

You were able to keep your mind off the events of the previous night and the awkwardness faded a bit the longer you talked.

Once you finished eating, you helped Wanda with the dishes and then disappeared to your room to study until it was time to head out for your exam. Wanda seemed slightly disappointed that you had to hole yourself up in your room once more to study, and you felt bad for not spending as much time with her this week.

You wanted more than anything to make her proud though, so you dedicated your day to making sure you were prepared for your final. When you left that afternoon, Wanda hugged you and kissed your cheek for good luck, seemingly unaware of how it made your heart flutter.

The exam went well and you felt confident in your final grade, sighing with relief as you took off your coat upon returning home. The house was empty so you assumed Wanda had a late meeting or was out running errands.

You fixed yourself something to eat and headed to your room to work on a project for another class. You lost track of time, immersed in your work, and the only thing that drew your focus away from your laptop was the sound of soft knocking on your door.

The door opened halfway and Wanda peered through, a warm smile on her face as she saw you sitting at your desk.

“Just letting you know I’m home.” She spoke quietly, as if she was trying not to disturb you. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, smiling subtly at the way she cared for you.

“Okay good,” she responded, returning your smile. “I’m gonna shower and call it a night, don’t stay up too late, okay sweetheart?”

“I won’t,” you agreed, and it was true - you were still tired from barely sleeping the night before and you knew you’d be getting under the covers sooner than later.

Wanda said a quick goodnight before closing your door and making her way down the hall.

It was later than you intended to stay up when you finally finished your project, stretching as you stood up from your desk. You changed into comfier clothes and crawled into bed, completely exhausted and ready for sleep to take over.

You thought of Wanda and how much you missed spending more time with her, how pretty she looked making breakfast for you in the kitchen, how her lips felt against your cheek when you left for your exam. You also thought of how cruel it was to want someone so badly and not be able to have them. It was becoming almost embarrassing how much you yearned for her, how desperate you were for someone you knew you’d never have a chance with.

You were right on the cusp between consciousness and sleep when you heard it - a moan.

Not again.

Your eyes shot open and you froze, listening intently. Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard another muffled sound through the wall, your core already pulsing at the implication of what was happening.

You were well aware of what she was doing; there was no need for you to investigate, no need to check on her to see if she was okay, but you found yourself sitting up and sliding out of bed regardless.

You crept down the hall, the sounds becoming louder as you approached, and stopped just outside of Wanda’s room. The door was cracked open again and you briefly wondered why Wanda would be so careless, but you were brought back to reality by another heavenly moan escaping the redhead.

Unlike the night before, Wanda wasn’t wearing anything as she touched herself in the center of her bed, lithe fingers parting her folds and rubbing her clit with every stroke through her pussy. She looked so wet and you nearly whimpered at the sight, she had the prettiest pussy you’d ever seen. Her center glistened in the dim light of her room and you wished you could taste her, wanting nothing more than to lap up all the sticky wetness between her thighs.

You had to squint to see her decently - her room was slightly dark, only illuminated by the lamp on her nightstand - but what you could see from your place in the doorway was driving you insane. You watched as Wanda masturbated in her bed mere feet away from you, seemingly unaware that she had an audience.

You nearly drooled when you saw her slide two fingers inside of herself, your mouth falling open at the way her tight pussy stretched around the digits. The moan she let out as she began fucking herself made your core twitch with desire, arousal flooding your senses. You felt drunk off of her, your head fuzzy and eyes full of lust as you stared at the space between her legs, mesmerized by the way she touched herself.

“Oh fuck,” Wanda panted as she sped up her movements, her hips canting up into her hand. It was so erotic to watch her pleasure herself, to see her in such an intimate way. You were so turned on from watching that you knew you’d have to do something about it before you eventually went to sleep, your thighs pressed together to ease the ache between them.

“Y/N, right there,” she cried out, curling her fingers and arching her back as she hit the spot inside of herself that made her legs shake. You could tell she was close and you were nearly trembling in anticipation, eager to see her cum again. She was like a drug and you were addicted.

With a guttural moan, Wanda came, cursing and chanting your name as she fucked herself through it. Her hips bucked unevenly as she rode it out, grinding her clit against her palm with every thrust of her cunt against her hand. She drew it out, milking it for all it was worth, moaning loudly as her pussy clenched around her fingers, coating them in her cum.

Just when you thought you’d never seen anything more attractive in your life, Wanda pulled her fingers out and brought her hand up, taking the wet digits into her mouth and sucking on them, letting out a satisfied groan at her own taste. You bit back a whimper at the sight, not wanting to alert her to your presence.

You were impossibly wet from watching her cum and you shifted uncomfortably on your feet, causing one of the floorboards to creak beneath you. Wanda’s head snapped towards the door and you slipped out of sight, your heart pounding in your chest. You hoped the hallway was dark enough that she didn’t see you, but you couldn’t be sure.

With panic blooming in your chest, you made it back to your own room and closed the door quietly, immediately slipping into bed and closing your eyes, thinking that if you pretended to be asleep, everything would be okay.

Your mind kept you awake for a while longer, filled with the vivid memories of Wanda touching herself, plagued with the anxiety of almost being caught watching her. You didn’t know what you would do if Wanda found out you spied on her while she was touching herself, feeling embarrassed just at the thought of her knowing. You also didn’t know how you would explain your actions without confessing your feelings towards her. You couldn’t stop worrying about whether or not she saw you, whether or not she knew you were there, and you couldn’t stop fantasizing about being the one making her feel good, being the one with your hands on her instead of her own.

Eventually, you fell asleep, your exhaustion finally overtaking your rampant thoughts.

When you woke up, it was still early in the morning - you hadn’t slept well, but at least you hadn’t overslept. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and stumbled to the kitchen in search of caffeine, noticing Wanda in the adjacent living room on your way. She was sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other, reading as she sipped from her mug.

“Morning Wanda,” you greeted, your voice still rough from having just woken up.

Wanda looked up, smiling when she saw you, and saved her page before setting the book down. “Good morning, Y/N,” she said cheerily, standing up and approaching you. She took in your tired state and gave you a knowing look. “How late were you up, malysh?” She teased.

You held back a groan at the question, hoping she wasn’t implying that she knew you were up after seeing you in the hallway. “Pretty late, I did try to go to sleep early though,” you answered truthfully.

Wanda hummed in response before speaking again. “You poor thing. Did something keep you up late?” Your breath hitched upon hearing her words, feeling almost certain that she knew your secret.

“Just stressed about a final project.” You tried to play it off. Maybe she didn’t know, maybe everything was fine and you were on the verge of crumbling for no reason. You figured the best thing you could do was act normal and pray she was as clueless as she’d seemed the day before.

“Aw, sweetheart,” Wanda cooed. “I know this week has been hard on you, but it’ll be over soon and I’m so proud of you.” Your cheeks warmed at her praise as she brought her hand to the side of your neck, tracing your jawline with her thumb.

“Thank you,” you responded, suddenly weak in the knees and certain you were blushing like crazy. You were also taken aback by how quickly you went from feeling anxious to feeling loved and reassured.

“Of course, detka,” she said back, her hand still cradling your neck. For a moment you just stood there like that, Wanda’s hand nearly cupping your cheek as she looked at you adoringly and you struggled to hold eye contact with her. The moment felt so intimate it almost made you shudder.

Just as soon as it started, it ended, with Wanda retracting her hand and stepping to the side of you, making her way towards the kitchen.

“Breakfast?” she asked nonchalantly, as if the two of you hadn’t just shared a moment that made you forget how to breathe.

After the two of you shared breakfast, you went back to studying and finishing up projects for most of the day, only taking breaks to eat, shower, and work out.

That night, despite the guilt and the tension, despite almost being caught, you once again found yourself sneaking down the hall after hearing breathy moans of pleasure from down the hall.

The next few days consisted of the same routine - focusing on your studies throughout the day and losing sleep over Wanda at night - and by the end of the week, you were done with your classes for the semester.

You felt relieved to be done and Wanda was more than proud of you for finishing the year with good grades. She kissed your cheek and told you how proud she was before she left for a work meeting in the morning, leaving you blushing in the living room.

It was your first day of winter break, so you spent it relaxing at home, catching up on shows and texting with your friends. Halfway through the day, you decided to bake cookies for Wanda as a subtle thank you for her constant support.

When Wanda arrived home, it was already dark outside, the chill of the winter air creeping in as she entered the house. She shed her coat and set her purse down, quickly turning her attention towards the kitchen when she noticed you making dinner.

“Hi detka,” she greeted, smiling as she approached the kitchen island, resting her elbows on it as she looked at you.

“Hey,” you replied, smiling back at her before grabbing a handful of chopped vegetables and placing them in a pan on the stove.

You stirred the contents of the pan before turning to face Wanda, who was curiously eyeing the cookies you’d baked earlier. “Oh, um, those are for you,” you said, gesturing towards the cookies.

Wanda almost looked surprised for a moment before a smile graced her features. “How thoughtful,” she commented, reaching for a cookie. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You nodded in response, watching her as she carefully took a bite. She practically moaned in satisfaction and you felt heat rise to your cheeks at the familiar sound.

“That’s delicious,” she complimented.

“Thank you,” you choked out, clearing your throat. You turned back around to check on dinner, not wanting Wanda to notice how flustered you’d suddenly become.

“So, now that you’re done with finals, how about that movie night?” Wanda proposed.

“I’d love that,” you answered, looking back over your shoulder at her. “Tonight?”

“Tonight is perfect,” she said, smiling at you in a way that made her nose scrunch up adorably, your heart melting at the sight. “Do you know what movie you want to watch, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Yelena’s favorite movie for the holidays is Carol and she told me to watch it, so let’s go with that.”

Wanda smirked to herself before responding. “Sounds like a plan. We can watch it after dinner.”

“Okay,” you said with a nod, turning back around to finish cooking.

When dinner was finally ready, the two of you ate together at the table. Wanda asked how your day went and continued to praise you for doing so well in your classes, causing you to blush as you focused on your food, hoping she wouldn’t notice. She talked about work and how her week went, and she made sure to comment on how much she’d missed your company recently. Apparently it had been a stressful week for her and you briefly wondered if that had anything to do with her seeking relief every night. You cursed yourself for thinking of that now, certain your cheeks were even redder than before.

When you were finished eating, you took care of the dishes and she thanked you for being so sweet to her before heading to the living room to queue up the movie.

You cleaned up quickly, eager to spend more time with Wanda, and made your way to the living room, two glasses of wine in hand.

“Thank you, detka, you’re so good to me,” Wanda cooed, smiling as you handed her one of the glasses.

“Of course.” You joined her on the couch, your bodies mere inches apart as you settled in beside her.

“Ready?” She asked, sipping her wine as she reached for the remote.

“Yeah,” you replied.

Wanda smiled and pressed play, leaning back into the couch as the movie began. She seemed to have scooted closer to you in the process, your legs now touching.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that the movie revolved around an age gap relationship between two women and you wished you hadn’t chosen one of Yelena’s recommendations to watch with your stepmom, who you secretly had a huge crush on. You definitely should’ve done some research before suggesting to watch it, but you couldn’t go back on it now, no matter how awkward you suddenly felt or how tense the air around you had become.

At one point, Wanda rested her hand on your thigh, her thumb idly rubbing circles on the fabric of your pants, and you tried not to squirm. Between the plot of the movie and the way Wanda was touching you, you started to feel warm and slightly uncomfortable in your spot on the couch. You’d already finished off your glass of wine, hoping that the tipsy feeling would relax you a little bit, but it only made you feel hotter.

It wasn’t until a sex scene came on that Wanda spoke up, noticing you shifting beside her. “You okay, sweetheart?” She asked, checking in with faux concern, her sly smirk going unnoticed by you.

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice coming out breathier than you would’ve liked.

Wanda took the last sip of her wine, setting the glass on the coffee table. “Have you ever done anything like that?”

The question caught you off guard, not expecting Wanda to be asking you about your sex life. You sat there dumbly for a moment before Wanda turned to look at you curiously, waiting for a response.

“I- not really,” you answered honestly, feeling your cheeks heat up under her gaze.

“Hmm,” Wanda mused, contemplating her next words. “Do you think about it?”

You were once again surprised by her boldness. It took you a few seconds to say something back, your mind a little fuzzy from the wine and clouded with thoughts of all the things you wanted to do with Wanda.

“Um, yeah, I suppose.” You tried to sound nonchalant, but the way Wanda was questioning you had you feeling simultaneously embarrassed and also strangely aroused.

“Is that what you think about when you think of me?” Wanda asked, smiling far too innocently.

You almost choked upon hearing her words. She couldn’t possibly know how you felt about her, could she? You felt panic rise in your chest, unsure of how to respond to her question.

“I- what do you mean?” You stuttered out, looking anywhere but directly at her.

Wanda didn’t miss a beat. “I think you know exactly what I mean, detka,” she said, her sultry tone turning you on despite how confused and anxious you felt. “I know you’ve been watching me,” she spoke again, leaning in and resting her arm on the back of the couch, her body angled towards yours. Her confession made you look up at her, worry spread across your features as she smirked. “Did you like what you saw?”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment as you froze in place. How did she know? How much had she seen? How long has she known? So many questions swirled around in your mind as she waited patiently for you to respond. You broke eye contact, unable to look her in the eyes as you lied to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried, a futile attempt to save yourself from the humiliation of her knowing.

“Oh sweetheart, we’re way past lying,” Wanda cooed, letting her hand come up to brush your hair behind your ear. “You know, it’s not proper to watch someone when they’re having some alone time.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her, shame washing over you as she spoke. “It’s a good thing I knew you were there, hm? I mean, why else would I leave the door open every night?”

You snapped your head to look at her, shock evident on your face, and Wanda bit back a chuckle at your reaction.

“You- you wanted me to see?” You whispered, your brain working overtime to process the new information. You were having a hard time grasping the concept that Wanda even knew you watched her; the fact that she had always intended for you to watch her was too much to wrap your head around.

Was it possible that Wanda really did reciprocate your feelings for her? You’d never let yourself consider it, but in some ways it did make sense. She was always so sweet and overly touchy with you, but you’d never let yourself believe that it was because she felt something for you. But then you thought back to those nights, hearing her moan your name while she touched herself, and it clicked. She did want you, just as you wanted her, and the thought made you feel like your skin was on fire.

Wanda nodded, biting her lip. “The first night wasn’t on purpose,” she explained, looking back and forth between your eyes as she spoke. “But when I realized I had an audience, well…” she trailed off, smirking. “I guess you did like what you saw, hm?” She leaned in closer, her lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Because you kept coming back every single night to watch mommy get herself off.”

You groaned at her words and the arousal that shot through you as she said them. You fought the urge to squeeze your legs together, your core pulsing from her teasing. The name she used for herself wasn’t helping either - you weren’t expecting it, nor were you expecting the way it would make you feel.

You felt more than saw Wanda’s smirk at your reaction. “What did you like the most?” She asked, trailing featherlight kisses down your neck. “Was it the sight of me with my legs spread, my fingers working between my thighs? Or did you get off on my sounds, the way I moaned your name as I made myself feel good? Maybe it was seeing me cum, watching me fall apart on my own fingers - maybe that’s what did it for you.”

Her words were turning you on to no end and you had to hold back a whimper at how desperate you were becoming for her. You tried to nod in agreement, your breathing labored as she continued her ministrations on your neck.

“Use your words, detka,” she demanded, before sucking on your pulse point and making you shiver.

“Yes, all of it, fuck, Wanda,” you managed breathily, one hand coming up to her hair to keep her in place. She sighed against your skin, pulling back to take in the sight of you. Your eyes opened slowly and she took pride in how glossy they were, your pupils dark with desire. You already looked ruined and she’d barely done anything yet.

Her gaze flicked down to your lips briefly and your breath caught in your throat at the action. She cupped your cheek, stroking it with her thumb. “Can I kiss you, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you breathed out, no longer worried about her knowing how badly you wanted her.

She smiled before leaning in, so slowly that the anticipation was almost painful. Although tempted to just close the distance, you didn’t dare move, practically shaking at the first brush of her lips against yours.

Kissing Wanda was everything and nothing like what you’d expected. Her lips were impossibly soft as they moved hesitantly against your own and it made you feel warm all over. The kiss wasn’t rough or desperate; it was tender in a way you never could’ve imagined and you could already feel yourself getting lost in it.

When Wanda deepened the kiss, you couldn’t hold back a moan. You felt her smile against your lips before kissing you harder, letting her tongue slip into your mouth. You whimpered at the feeling of her tongue against yours; it was all so hot and you knew if she touched you in that moment, you’d be wet for her.

Without breaking the kiss, Wanda moved so she was laying back against the couch, pulling you with her so you were on top of her, straddling her lap. One hand rested on the back of your neck, keeping you close, the other gripping your hip, her thumb rubbing small circles into your skin where your shirt had ridden up.

You cupped her cheek as you kissed her with more fervor, relishing in the feeling of being this close to her.

When she finally broke the kiss to catch her breath, you didn’t hesitate to move your lips to her jaw, kissing her skin as you made your way to her neck. Feeling your warm breath and eager mouth against her neck made her sigh beneath you, a breathy moan escaping her parted lips when you softly nipped at her pulse point. The sound went straight to your core and the fact that you’d been the one to make her moan this time was intoxicating in the best way - you needed to hear more.

You brought one of your hands to the hem of her shirt, teasing the skin underneath as you pulled away to look up at her. “Is this okay?” You asked, your voice shaky from nerves and arousal.

Wanda nodded beneath you and you slid your hand higher until you felt the lace of her bra against your fingertips. Wanda gasped when you cupped her covered breast and squeezed lightly, running your thumb over her nipple through the fabric. “Good girl,” she praised, her words sending a jolt of arousal through your body. She looked at you with darkened eyes and parted lips, the pure desire in her gaze almost too much for you to handle.

You brought your other hand to her chest and teased her through the fabric of her bra, soaking in all her cute little reactions to your touch, until she stopped you, pulling your hands out from under her shirt. You almost wondered if you’d done something wrong, but then she was reaching for the hem of her shirt and pulling the garment off. Her bra soon followed, leaving her bare, and you gawked at the sight of her topless beneath you.

“Fuck,” you whispered, feeling even more turned on. You practically drooled at the sight of her full breasts on display for you, her nipples hard from your teasing. She was absolutely perfect and you couldn’t wait to see all of her, to touch her everywhere, to worship her body the way you’d always dreamed about.

“You like what you see?” Wanda teased, already knowing the answer. Her cockiness only made you more aroused as you nodded dumbly. “Go ahead baby,” she encouraged. “Show me what you’ve always wanted to do to me.”

Her words emboldened you and you removed your own shirt before leaning in, capturing one of her nipples between your lips. Wanda moaned at the first touch of your tongue against her sensitive nipple, her hand coming up to the back of your head to keep you there, fingers tangling in your hair. You let your tongue caress the hardened bud, alternating between licking and sucking, drawing out more gasps and sighs from the woman beneath you.

Your hand came up to give attention to her other breast, rubbing and pinching at her stiff nipple until her breathing was labored and her hips were bucking up into you. You switched sides and continued worshipping her breasts, humming against her skin as you got lost in the way she felt underneath you.

“Fuck, Y/N, wait,” Wanda said, pulling you back from her chest and snapping you out of your haze. You looked up at her, partially worried she was going to tell you to stop entirely, but the next words from her mouth made your whole body tingle with excitement. “Take me to bed.”

The walk down the hallway was a blur, your mind still fuzzy as you stepped into her bedroom, her hand in yours keeping you grounded. She led you to her bed and crawled atop the sheets, leaning back against the pillows and pulling you on top of her once more.

She kissed you again, this time with more fervor. The addictive feeling of her lips on yours made your heart race and your underwear impossibly wetter. You kissed her back with just as much desperation, moaning against her lips when her tongue slid into your mouth. Her lips curled at that and you almost felt embarrassed, but at the same time it was turning you on even more.

Without breaking the kiss, Wanda grabbed your hand and guided it lower, not stopping until it was resting on the button of her jeans. You pulled back to take a breath and couldn’t help but admire how she looked with blown-out pupils and kiss-swollen lips.

Sensing that you were waiting for permission, Wanda broke the heated silence first. “Take them off,” she demanded, her raspy voice going straight to your core.

You bit your lip, nodding, before obeying. Her jeans came off easily and you paused for a moment to take in the sight of her. Wanda was both flattered and aroused by the way you looked at her, like you wanted to do unspeakable things to her.

She hooked her fingers in the waistband of her panties and pushed them down slowly, teasing you. She spread her legs and watched your reaction, amused at how desperate you looked for her in that moment, your eyes glued to her pussy.

You stared longingly at her glistening sex, wanting nothing more than to bury your face in it and taste her for hours. You hardly noticed when Wanda’s fingers hooked into your belt loop, tugging lightly. “Take these off too, detka.”

Her words snapped you out of your haze and you were quick to oblige, awkwardly removing your jeans and kicking them off to the floor while she watched.

When you climbed on top of her again, kissing her with more desire than she was prepared for, she absentmindedly brought her thigh up between your legs. She gasped into the kiss when she felt how wet you were through your panties.

“Fuck baby, you’re so wet,” she groaned, pecking your lips. “Did mommy make you this wet, sweetheart?”

You whined out of embarrassment, but the way she was speaking to you made you feel like you were on fire and you didn’t want it to stop. “Yes,” you murmured, feeling exposed.

“Yes what?” Wanda raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes mommy,” you responded, giving her exactly what she wanted.

“Good girl,” she praised and you had to bite back a groan at her words. “I bet you get all wet when you watch me touch myself too, huh?”

“Yes mommy,” you answered, blushing, still feeling slightly humiliated that she knew how deeply desperate you were for her.

“Poor baby, it must’ve been so hard for you to see me like that and not be able to do anything about it, hm?” Her words were laced with faux sympathy and for some reason, it was incredibly hot. You pouted in response. “You have me now. What do you want to do to me?”

You were hesitant to tell her what you wanted, feeling shy at the thought of revealing what you’ve always imagined doing to her, but the way she was looking at you expectantly made you swallow your nerves. “I wanna taste you so bad,” you mumbled, your voice low.

“Yeah? You wanna taste mommy?” She repeated your words back to you and you could feel the heat in your cheeks from her teasing.

You nodded eagerly. “Please.”

“Oh, those manners,” Wanda purred, cupping your cheek. She leaned back against the pillows and spread her legs again, enjoying the way your eyes fell to the space between her thighs. “Go ahead baby, eat mommy’s pussy.”

You couldn’t believe what was happening - you were about to sleep with Wanda and she was encouraging you to taste her the way you could only dream about until now. You’d never done anything like this with anyone, but you were more excited and aroused than nervous at this point.

You leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of her thigh, before slowly making your way to where she wanted you most. You left open-mouthed kisses along the way, worshipping every inch of her skin. You could smell her arousal and it made you feel dizzy with lust; you couldn’t wait to taste her, eager to feel her cumming in your mouth.

You looked up at her once more, seeing nothing but desire in her gaze. Just as she was about to speak, to tell you to stop teasing, you dove in, licking a long stripe up her pussy, collecting her arousal on your tongue. You moaned at the taste of her, the way her soft folds felt under your tongue, the way she was dripping for you, and she gasped at the feeling of your hot mouth on her sensitive cunt.

When you wrapped your lips around her clit and sucked, Wanda couldn’t hold back a loud moan, her hips bucking slightly from the sudden stimulation. You alternated between sucking on her clit and flicking your tongue over it, drawing out more delicious moans from the woman beneath you. You could’ve gotten off on her sounds alone, but you nearly came right then and there when you looked up and saw her face contorted in pleasure, her eyebrows scrunched up and her lips parted as she panted beneath you.

She smiled when you made eye contact with her, humming in pleasure as you ran your tongue over her clit once more. “Mmm, fuck, you’re doing so good, sweetheart, so good for mommy,” she managed, the praise only making you more needy.

You doubled down on your efforts, determined to make her come undone. You groaned when Wanda began grinding her pussy into your mouth, her hips unable to stay still. She was practically fucking your face and you wouldn’t have had it any other way. You already knew that watching her take her pleasure was enough to ruin you, but this was something else entirely.

You moaned into her pussy when she gripped your hair, not hard enough to hurt but firmly enough to guide your movements, and continued the rhythm of her hips as she chased her orgasm. She looked so sexy getting lost in her pleasure and you couldn’t help but feel close to your own orgasm at the sight.

She tasted so fucking good too and despite the subtle ache in your jaw, you wanted to stay like this forever, trapped between her strong thighs as you lapped at her dripping cunt.

“Fuck, I’m so close, you’re doing so good,” she moaned, her voice breathy and higher in pitch. Her clit throbbed under your tongue as she approached the edge, her legs shaking around your head.

With one final swipe of your tongue, Wanda reached her peak, her back arching as waves of pleasure racked her body.

Pushing her over the edge only made you fall apart with her, a guttural moan leaving your lips as the coil within you snapped. It was short but intense and you could only grip Wanda’s thighs harshly as you rode it out.

Her hips continued to grind against your mouth and you didn’t stop eating her out, desperate to keep having her like this. You eagerly lapped up her wetness, groaning at the taste of her cum as she moaned and writhed beneath you.

You helped her ride out the aftershocks, keeping your mouth on her as long as you could. Even as she was coming down from her orgasm, you didn’t stop running your tongue through her, leaving tender kisses along the reddened skin of her overstimulated cunt.

Wanda’s grip on your hair loosened as she caught her breath, her hips jerking a little when you hit a particularly sensitive spot. She ran her fingers through your hair softly, looking down at you between her legs with lust and adoration in her eyes. “Come here,” she beckoned, smiling when you reluctantly pulled away from her center and crawled up to meet her at the head of the bed.

She leaned in to kiss you hard, letting her tongue swipe into your mouth and humming at the taste of herself. You kissed her back desperately, hungrily, as if having your first taste of her only made you want more - which was true.

She finally broke the kiss, panting, and cradled your face in her hand. “You did so good for your first time, detka,” she praised, leaning forward to whisper her next words in your ear. “You made mommy cum so hard.”

A subtle whimper escaped you at her words and she smirked. “So cute like this, all desperate for me.” She bit her lip as she admired how ruined you looked for her. “What do you need, baby?”

“Can you go again?” You blurted out, trying not to feel embarrassed at how eager you sounded.

Wanda’s eyes widened the slightest bit at your question, not expecting you to already want to make her cum again, especially when you hadn’t been taken care of. “What about you?”

Heat rose to your cheeks. “I- um, I already…” You trailed off, feeling embarrassed.

Wanda’s eyes lit up with realization and you wished you could hide from her when you noticed her lips curling into a cocky smile. “Yeah? You came just from eating mommy out?” You nodded almost shamefully, your breath catching in your throat when Wanda leaned in closer, her lips brushing against yours. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Any embarrassment you felt in that moment quickly dissipated. Wanda loved the effect she had on you and the fact that she found it attractive only made you more confident in your desire for her.

Before you could formulate a response, her mouth was on yours again, kissing you ravenously and without restraint. You kissed her back with just as much passion, certain that nothing in life would ever feel as good as being with her like this.

Your thigh came up between her legs, pressing against her center, and she gasped into the kiss. The feeling of her soaked cunt against your bare skin made your head spin and you broke the kiss to mumble against her lips. “Sit on my face.” It was less of a demand and more of a request, your eyes pleading as you looked into hers. “Please.”

“So fucking eager,” Wanda said with amazement, the words breathy as she spoke them.

She quickly flipped your positions so that she was on top, her soft thighs straddling your midsection, her wet pussy grazing your bare stomach as she helped you get comfortable against the pillows. You reached for the backs of her thighs, encouraging her to come closer.

Soon her thighs were on either side of your head and you were practically buzzing with excitement for what was to come.

“Tap my thigh three times if you need to stop.” Those were the last words you heard before she lowered her pussy onto your mouth with a moan of satisfaction.

Wanda came several more times before the night was over. She guided you on how she liked to be touched and you were more than happy to do whatever she wanted. You fell apart once more on her thigh while you fucked her with your fingers, getting off on her moans and the way she looked in the throes of pleasure.

Wanda’s body practically melted into the mattress after her final orgasm of the night, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Once she recovered, she didn’t hesitate to cuddle up next to you, holding you close.

If you weren’t so tired, you would’ve asked her what this meant to her. Your feelings ran deeper than just sex, but you weren’t sure if hers did too. You tried not to worry about it, instead focusing on the way her body felt against yours, her soft breaths tickling your neck as she rested. You eventually drifted off to sleep, surrounded by her warmth and her scent.

Wanda had looked at her with those green eyes, sharp and guarded, and Y/N had felt something tug deep inside her chest. Something familiar but unnameable. She’d tried to smile, offer her hand, but Wanda only gave a curt nod and turned away.

It didn’t matter. Y/N was hooked.

She couldn’t explain it — the strange, magnetic pull toward the Sokovian witch. She wasn’t the type to get caught up in fleeting crushes; she had control, discipline. But Wanda had made her heart pound in a way no one else had.

The only problem? Wanda wanted nothing to do with her.

Every time Y/N tried to ask her out — coffee, a walk, even just training together — Wanda turned her down. Sometimes with a clipped excuse, sometimes with barely concealed irritation. It was clear: Wanda didn’t like her. Or maybe she didn’t like Alphas at all.

Wanda was a Beta, so maybe that explained some of it. Most Betas resented how much the world revolved around Alphas and Omegas. Y/N couldn’t blame her. Still, it hurt more than she cared to admit.

But none of that mattered on the mission.

---

Today’s mission was supposed to be simple — infiltration, extraction, clean getaway. Of course, missions never went that smoothly. The Hydra base had more guards than intel predicted, and the team split up to cover more ground.

Y/N ended up partnered with Wanda, much to the witch’s dismay.

They were moving down a narrow corridor when a Hydra agent burst out from the shadows, weapon raised. Y/N reacted without thinking—her arm shooting out, shoving Wanda behind her as she drove her blade into the man’s chest before he could fire.

The body hit the floor with a heavy thud.

But before Y/N realized it, something else filled the air. A low, protective growl slipped from her throat, her alpha pheromones spilling into the space—dominant, warning, wrapping thickly around Wanda as if to shield her too.

Wanda froze, wide-eyed, then her jaw tightened. She shoved Y/N’s arm off her.

“You stay out of my way,” she hissed, her accent cutting sharp. “I don’t need you playing hero. I don’t need *you* at all.”

Y/N swallowed hard, pulling her pheromones back under control. She didn’t answer, just nodded and stepped aside, letting Wanda storm ahead.

She wasn’t here to fight with Wanda; she just wanted them both to get out alive.

For a while, everything went smoothly again. They moved through the halls in sync, Wanda’s scarlet energy crackling at her fingertips, Y/N covering their flank. But halfway through the mission, Y/N noticed Wanda slowing down.

Her breathing was heavier, her skin flushed.

“You okay?” Y/N whispered, scanning the shadows for movement.

“I’m fine,” Wanda snapped, brushing past her. But her steps faltered, and Y/N caught her elbow before she stumbled.

That was when Y/N smelled it.

It hit her like a punch — sweet, heady, intoxicating. Omega pheromones, thick and undeniable. Not just any pheromones either. Heat.

Y/N froze. Her entire body tensed, her Alpha instincts roaring awake. No. That couldn’t be right. Wanda was a Beta. She’d said so herself. Everyone believed it. But there was no mistaking this smell: Wanda was an Omega. And not just that — she was in the middle of a dangerous, overwhelming heat.

“Wanda…” Y/N murmured, her voice low, almost strangled. “You’re—”

“Shut up!” Wanda hissed, though her voice trembled. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare.”

But her legs gave out, and Y/N had no choice but to catch her before she hit the ground. Wanda writhed in her arms, her body hot, trembling with need she clearly despised.

Y/N’s instincts screamed at her to claim, to soothe, to sink into the Omega who smelled so maddeningly perfect in her arms. But she clenched her jaw, fighting it. This wasn’t about her. Wanda didn’t want this. She didn’t even want her.

“I have you,” Y/N whispered firmly, gathering Wanda up bridal-style. “I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

Wanda’s nails dug into her shoulder, her scarlet magic flickering uncontrollably around her. “Don’t—don’t touch me,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction, broken by a needy whimper.

“I don’t have a choice,” Y/N said, carrying her down the hall, scanning for exits. “You’re burning up, Wanda. You can’t fight like this. You’ll get hurt.”

Her Omega.

The thought seared through her mind unbidden, primal and raw.

Y/N shook her head. She needed to focus. She had to get Wanda out, away from danger, away from enemies who would smell her condition and know exactly how vulnerable she was.

They made it out of the base and into the forest, Y/N’s arms tight around Wanda as she followed the map in her comm to the nearest safe house. Wanda was half-conscious, panting, trembling against her. Every whimper nearly undid Y/N, every shift of her body against Y/N’s chest a brutal test of self-control.

Then Wanda shifted closer, her nose brushing the curve of Y/N’s neck. For a split second, Y/N thought it was an accident—until she felt the soft inhale, the shiver that ran through the Omega in her arms.

Wanda breathed her in, desperate, her lips parting against Y/N’s skin. A small, broken whimper escaped her throat, the sound laced with need.

Y/N froze, her Alpha instincts flaring violently. She wanted—needed—to answer that call, to soothe, to claim. But she clenched her jaw, forcing her body rigid as she kept moving through the trees.

“Easy,” Y/N murmured, her voice rough, betraying the storm inside her. “Just hold on. I’ve got you.”

Wanda’s fingers curled tighter in Y/N’s shirt, another needy sound catching in her throat as she pressed closer to that intoxicating Alpha scent, too far gone to fight the pull anymore.

Y/N’s boots thudded heavily against the wooden steps as she reached the cabin. She shifted Wanda in her arms just enough to reach for the door, shouldering it open with a force that rattled the frame.

Inside was dark and dusty, but it was safe — four walls, a roof, and most importantly, solitude.

She carried Wanda straight to the narrow bed in the corner and laid her down as gently as she could. But before she could pull away, Wanda immediately reached for her, slender fingers snagging the fabric of Y/N’s combat top. Her body arched subtly, like her heat wouldn’t let her tolerate even a moment without the Alpha she clung to.

“Wanda,” Y/N whispered, crouching beside the bed. Her own breath came harsh, shallow, as she tried to put space between her instincts and the woman she had fallen before her. “You need to rest. I’ll get water, I’ll make sure you’re okay—”

Wanda’s glassy eyes fluttered open, unfocused but locked on Y/N. She inhaled shakily, the sound almost a sob, before burying her face into the crook of Y/N’s neck again.

The rush of her Omega pheromones filled the small room, wrapping around Y/N like a suffocating embrace. Sweet, dizzying, primal. Y/N’s muscles tensed, her hands flexing against the urge to pull Wanda into her lap and have her way.

“Please,” Wanda whimpered, her voice muffled against Y/N’s throat. She wasn’t even fully aware of what she was asking, but her body knew. Her scent knew.

Y/N’s heart clenched painfully. She had wanted Wanda for so long — her laugh, her smile, her attention, anything she’d give. But not like this. Not when Wanda was vulnerable and suffering, when the choice wasn’t truly hers.

Y/N forced her voice low, steady, though her pulse hammered in her throat. “Wanda, listen to me—do you have an emergency suppressant? In your suit, your pocket, anywhere?”

Wanda only whimpered, shaking her head against her neck, fingers clawing weakly at Y/N’s shirt like a lifeline. Her body trembled, her Omega scent spiking hotter, sweeter, overwhelming.

“Damn it,” Y/N hissed under her breath, dragging in a sharp inhale through her nose and immediately regretting it. The pheromones were thick, suffocating, pressing against every inch of her restraint. Her cock strained against her pants, the ache unbearable.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. If she stayed, if she breathed Wanda in for another second, she was going to lose control. And the last thing she’d ever forgive herself for was hurting Wanda.

“Wanda,” she said harshly, voice rough with desperation. “I can’t— I can’t stay here. Not like this. If I don’t get out, I’ll—” She cut herself off, teeth gritting.

Wanda lifted her head then, eyes glazed, pupils blown wide, lips parted with shallow breaths. She looked utterly undone, caught in the throes of her heat, her instincts reaching for this Alpha. For her.

“No,” Wanda whispered, her accent thick, her hand fisting tighter into Y/N’s shirt. “Don’t go.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing down a groan that tore from her chest. “Wanda, you don’t understand—I might hurt you if I lose control. I can’t risk that.”

But Wanda’s heat had already swallowed her whole. She pressed closer, nuzzling into Y/N’s neck, her teeth grazing skin before a needy whine slipped from her throat. Her pheromones surged again, flooding the air until Y/N felt dizzy, drunk on her.

Every instinct in her screamed to claim, to soothe, to give Wanda what she was begging for without words. Her body shook with the effort of holding back.

Y/N’s breath came ragged, her voice breaking. “You’re killing me, Wanda…”

Y/N’s hands trembled as she shoved them into her own pockets, praying she’d been smart enough to carry an emergency alpha suppressant. Please, please… She patted down her vest, her belt, every compartment. Nothing.

Her chest tightened. “Shit.”

Wanda whimpered at the sound, clinging tighter. Her scent was practically liquid in the air now, coating Y/N’s lungs, seeping into her skin. The Alpha in her howled for release, for the Omega crying out against her chest.

Y/N gritted her teeth and forced herself to act. She hooked her hands gently but firmly under Wanda’s arms, pulling her away from her body. The moment her warmth left, Y/N felt the cold slam into her — relief and agony all at once.

“I can’t,” she rasped, pushing to her feet, every muscle rigid with restraint. “I need to get out of here before I hurt you. Before I—”

But before she could even take a step, Wanda’s hand shot out, desperate and uncoordinated, and caught her wrist. She pulled with surprising strength for how weak she looked, her body bowing toward Y/N again like a magnet to steel.

“Don’t go,” Wanda pleaded, her voice raw, her eyes glossy with heat. “Please… don’t.”

Y/N froze, chest heaving, staring down at the Omega who wouldn’t release her. Wanda’s nails dug into her wrist, trembling as she tried to drag Y/N closer. Her pheromones flared, thick and demanding, her entire being screaming for this Alpha. Her Alpha.

Y/N’s body shuddered with the effort it took not to give in. Her cock throbbed painfully in her pants, and every instinct urged her to turn around, to pin Wanda to the mattress, to sink into her until the need was gone.

But this wasn’t about instinct. This was Wanda.

Y/N’s throat worked around the words, broken and harsh. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

Wanda’s fingers curled tighter into her shirt, her whole body trembling. She tilted her face up, glassy green eyes locking on Y/N’s with a desperation that made Y/N’s chest ache.

“I… I need you,” Wanda whispered, her accent thick, voice hoarse with heat. Her thighs rubbed together, clenching as another wave of fire rolled through her body. A broken whine escaped her lips, sharp with pain and want. “Please—make it stop.”

The sound gutted Y/N.

Her Omega was shaking, suffering, looking at her with helpless need. Not because she wanted Y/N, but because her body demanded it.

Y/N’s jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Her cock strained painfully against her pants, her Alpha instincts screaming take her, claim her, soothe her. But she couldn’t—she wouldn’t—cross that line, not unless Wanda chose her outside the haze of heat.

“Wanda…” Y/N’s voice cracked, raw with restraint. She gripped the edge of the mattress so hard the wood groaned, anchoring herself in place. “You don’t know what you’re asking me. If I give in, I won’t be able to stop.”

“I don’t care,” Wanda gasped, her nails digging into Y/N’s chest as she pressed closer, her body wracked with another needy tremor. Her legs squeezed together tightly, a low whimper slipping through her clenched teeth. “It hurts—please, Alpha…”

The word cut straight through Y/N. Wanda had never once addressed her like that — never even acknowledged her as an Alpha without disdain. Hearing it now, dripping with helpless need, only proved how far gone she was.

This wasn’t Wanda speaking. This was her heat, dragging her under.

Y/N’s mind raced. I have to get out, I have to—if I stay, I’ll break. I’ll hurt her. Her instincts screamed the opposite, urging her to give in, to soothe her Omega, to take what was offered.

Then movement drew her eyes back down.

Wanda’s trembling fingers fumbled at the hem of her own top, tugging it upward. She was shaking too hard to be precise, but determination drove every clumsy movement. Fabric rose, inch by inch, baring pale skin flushed pink from heat.

Y/N’s eyes widened, blood rushing hot to her face. “Wanda—!”

Before she saw more than she should, she spun around, her back rigid, fists clenching at her sides. Her ears burned, her throat dry, every nerve in her body alight with the effort it took to not look back.

Her cock strained painfully against her pants, the sight of Wanda undressing burned into her mind even though she hadn’t let herself see more than a glimpse.

“Stop,” Y/N choked out, voice rough and frantic. “Don’t—don’t do that. You’re not yourself right now.”

Behind her, Wanda let out a needy whimper, the soft rustle of fabric making Y/N’s chest tighten with panic.

She squeezed her eyes shut, muttering under her breath like a prayer. “God, I can’t stay in this room…”

Y/N forced herself to take one shaky step toward the door, her back still turned, heart hammering against her ribs. If I can just get out—just one breath of clean air—

But before she could reach the handle, Wanda’s arms wrapped around her waist from behind.

“Wanda—!”

Y/N barely had time to react before the Omega’s strength, fueled by need and desperation, yanked her backward. They tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, Y/N’s back hitting the mattress with a heavy thud.

The breath was knocked from her lungs, and then she realized the full weight straddling her hips.

Wanda.

Only in her bra and underwear now, flushed skin glowing in the dim light, her hair mussed, her thighs trembling as she pressed down onto Y/N. The sight stole every ounce of oxygen from Y/N’s chest.

Her blush flared so violently it felt like fire across her face. But when her gaze dropped — unwillingly, instinctively — she saw it.

The slick coating Wanda’s inner thighs, glistening as it smeared against her trembling skin.

Y/N’s entire body went rigid. Her fangs itched, sharp and aching, threatening to drop. Heat surged through her veins, primal and demanding.

A strangled groan tore out of her before she slapped a hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut as though that could erase what she’d just seen, what her instincts screamed at her to take.

But Wanda, lost in her own heat, shifted slightly, lowering herself onto Y/N’s covered hardness. The friction hit like a shockwave.

A loud, desperate moan escaped Wanda’s lips, raw and unrestrained.

Y/N froze entirely, paralyzed. Her body refused to obey, every nerve on fire, every muscle trembling. Wanda’s pheromones enveloped her like a physical force, thick and heady, searing into her lungs, sinking into her blood.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t pull away. She couldn’t think. Her Alpha instincts roared, raw and relentless, whispering claim her, claim her, claim her.

Her hands shot to Wanda’s waist, gripping in a mix of panic and instinct, but even that was half-hearted; her body was teetering on the edge of losing control entirely.

“Wanda…” she gasped, voice trembling, barely a whisper. “I… I can’t… I really… can’t… You’ll hate me…”

Her words died in her throat, choked off by the overwhelming scent, the slick heat pressed against her, the needy moans of her Wanda. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying she could hold on, praying she could resist, but her body was screaming in rebellion.

Wanda whimpered, shifting again, almost instinctively pressing closer, completely lost in her own need. Every movement, every sigh, pushed Y/N closer to the edge she had fought so hard to resist.

Y/N’s fists clenched at her sides, teeth gritted, the struggle written across every trembling line of her body. She was on the verge of losing it—completely, utterly.

Wanda’s whimpering grew more frantic. She shifted desperately, pressing into Y/N again before suddenly freezing, her hands fumbling at the buckle of Y/N’s combat suit pants.

“Wanda—no!” Y/N gasped, her voice cracking as panic and arousal warred violently inside her. Her hands shot down instinctively, trying to stop Wanda, but her body was already trembling, every nerve alight from the overpowering pheromones.

Wanda’s green eyes were glazed, pupils blown wide with heat-driven need. She didn’t hesitate, her fingers working at the buckle, jerking at it with fumbling insistence. “Please… I need you…” she whimpered, voice raw and desperate, completely lost to her instincts.

Y/N’s chest heaved, sweat beading on her temple. She pressed her palms harder against Wanda’s shoulders, trying to push her back, but even that small movement was agony — every second of proximity burned hotter, every scent, every motion pulling her closer to the edge.

“I… can’t… You’ll hate me!” Y/N choked out, voice trembling, eyes squeezed shut. Her teeth clenched as her fangs itched uncontrollably, her cock straining painfully in her pants. She had to stop herself, had to get away, but Wanda wasn’t letting go.

Wanda whined again, pressing closer despite Y/N’s frantic struggle, letting her hands roam, utterly consumed by need. The room was thick with heat, scent, and tension — every second a battle Y/N might not survive.

Wanda didn’t pause. Every rational thought gone, every instinct overridden, she continued removing Y/N’s clothes with clumsy, desperate movements.

First the combat suit top — it went over Y/N’s shoulders, tearing slightly at the seams as Wanda’s hands fumbled with the fabric. Y/N groaned, pressing her eyes shut, trying to resist, trying to keep control as the scent of Wanda’s heat swirled around her.

Wanda’s eyes roam Y/N’s chest, seeing the black bra, but then her eyes caught the little patches under Y/N’s collarbones. Pheromone blockers. Two tiny pieces meant to keep Y/N’s Alpha scent contained, meant to protect both of them from this very scenario.

Wanda’s nose twitched, and before Y/N could even speak, she let out a low, throaty growl — a pure, omega growl, sweet and desperate, utterly lost in need.

Y/N’s heart jolted. Her cock throbbed painfully, fangs aching to sink. That tiny growl — so raw, so needy — did something unrelenting to her body. She could feel herself reacting, alpha instincts screaming, arousal flaring like wildfire.

“Wanda—stop, no!” Y/N gasped, tugging at her, voice broken, panicked. But Wanda didn’t care.

With trembling hands, slick with heat and desire, Wanda ripped the pheromone blockers from Y/N’s collarbones. The instant they came off, Y/N felt it — her Alpha pheromones bursting free, thick, heavy, alive, flooding the room.

The effect was immediate. Wanda moaned, a high, desperate sound, and trembled against Y/N, pressing down harder, her hips rocking slightly on instinct. Whimpers tumbled from her lips as her body reacted violently to the flood of Alpha scent, heat and need colliding in a heady, intoxicating storm.

Y/N’s hands shook, gripping Wanda’s waist, nails digging in as she fought to maintain control. Her own instincts were screaming, telling her this is yours, claim her, she’s yours, she needs you!

But Y/N’s mind still screamed louder. Not like this. Not while she’s lost to heat. Not until she can choose.

Wanda’s thighs squeezed tightly around her, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. “I… I need you… inside me… please… Alpha…”

The words were broken, pleading, dripping with heat-fueled desire. Every tremor of her body, every whimper, drove Y/N closer to the edge.

Y/N’s chest heaved. Her Alpha scent now rolling thick and heavy into the room, mixing with Wanda’s heat, making the air almost electric. She was trapped, every part of her body screaming in need, but her mind still fought — for Wanda, for control, for both of them.

Wanda pressed herself onto Y/N, her small body practically melting into the Alpha. Her nose brushed along Y/N’s neck, teeth grazing lightly in little nips, lips pressing soft, frantic kisses against the curve of Y/N’s jawline. Every touch was a plea.

“It hurts… it hurts so much,” Wanda whimpered, her voice ragged with need. Her hands clawed weakly at Y/N’s shoulders, desperate for grounding, for comfort, for anything.

Y/N gasped, body trembling violently. Every nerve was on fire, every instinct screaming to claim, to soothe, to answer her heat. Her hands shook, her mind spinning, and for a moment she thought she could fight it. She tried.

But the pleading in Wanda’s voice, the way she pressed into her, the way her pheromones engulfed Y/N, was too much. She couldn’t hold anymore. Not for a single second longer.

With a sharp inhale, Y/N shifted, carefully but decisively flipping them both so that Wanda was lying on the mattress. The moment Y/N’s body left her, Wanda’s legs spread instinctively, her inner heat desperate, exposed, calling for what she needed.

Y/N pressed a soft, apologetic kiss to Wanda’s cheek, murmuring, “I’m sorry… I can’t… I can’t help it anymore.”

Wanda let out a low, needy whine — and then, without hesitation, she pulled Y/N down into a heated, desperate kiss. Her lips crushed against Y/N’s with all the frustration, longing, and ache she had been holding back. Her hands tangled in Y/N’s hair, tugging gently, claiming.

Y/N groaned softly into the kiss, hands trembling over Wanda’s body, heart pounding as desire and restraint collided. The heat between them was electric, thick with pheromones and need, yet threaded with something else — care, apology, and something neither had dared admit until now.

The world outside the cabin ceased to exist. There was only heat, scent, and the frantic, desperate press of their bodies against each other.

As their lips met in a heated, desperate kiss, Y/N pressed a trembling hand to Wanda’s cheek, her voice low and rough against her lips.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Wanda,” she murmured, breathless. “I’ll make it stop. I… I can’t hold it anymore, but I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

Wanda’s only response was a whine, a tiny shake of her body pressing closer, needy hands clinging to Y/N as though letting go wasn’t an option.

Y/N’s hands moved with shaking precision, carefully sliding Wanda’s underwear down, exposing her heated, slick skin. Wanda’s legs spread wider again, hips wiggling instinctively against Y/N, silently begging for more.

Y/N swallowed hard, fumbling with the waistband of her own combat suit, pulling it and her boxers down in one motion. She froze for a moment, staring at the desperate, glistening heat before her, heart hammering, every Alpha instinct screaming. She couldn’t afford to lose control, not entirely. She had to be careful.

Sliding slowly forward, she positioned herself at Wanda’s entrance, pressing gently against her damp heat. Wanda’s hips moved instinctively, tiny whimpers escaping her lips as Y/N tried to take it slow, careful, resisting the urge to go faster, to sink deep and claim her the way her body demanded.

The moment Y/N slid inside, Wanda gasped, a long, loud moan that reverberated through the small room. The sound hit Y/N like a lightning bolt, every nerve screaming, and she pressed a shaky hand to Wanda’s hip to steady herself, to try to keep the pace gentle.

But Wanda didn’t want slow. Her arms shot around Y/N’s waist, pulling her down, urging her faster, her legs instinctively closing around Y/N’s hips to guide every movement. Her moans grew louder, desperate, tinged with frustration and pure, raw need.

Y/N groaned softly, apologizing again, even as Wanda’s walls clenched and rolled around her, forcing her deeper. “Wanda… I’m sorry… I—”

Wanda only pressed closer, grinding her hips against Y/N, lost in the intensity of the sensation, unable to wait. “More… faster… please…” she begged, voice broken, trembling as she arched up into every movement, chasing the overwhelming pleasure rolling through her.

Y/N’s body tensed, heart hammering, struggling to maintain that thin line between restraint and giving in completely. Every motion of Wanda’s hips, every tight, needy clench of her walls, threatened to push her over the edge. And yet, even as she lost a fraction of control, she kept sliding in slowly, softly, matching Wanda’s frantic rhythm as best she could, whispering apologies with every thrust.

The cabin was filled with the sound of desperate moans, their ragged breathing, and the slick, wet friction of two bodies moving together — a storm of pheromones, heat, and the first tentative surrender to a bond that neither had fully understood until now.

Y/N’s hands pressed against Wanda’s hips, holding her steady, trying desperately to maintain some control. Her movements were deliberate at first, slow and measured, coaxing Wanda gently, whispering soft apologies between ragged breaths.

But every thrust, every tight, rolling squeeze of Wanda’s walls, ignited something deep within her. Her body screamed, her Alpha instincts clawing at her mind. Claim her… claim her… The words repeated over and over like a mantra, echoing in her head, growing louder with every moan and whimper from the Omega beneath her.

Her hips began to betray her, moving gradually faster, deeper, more desperate, even as her mind fought. Each inch she sank into Wanda sent a thrill shooting through her veins, the friction against her tightening body almost unbearable. Y/N’s fangs itched, her breath came ragged, and yet she held onto the smallest threads of restraint, whispering apologies to the woman beneath her.

Wanda’s moans grew louder, higher-pitched, frantic with need. Her hips jerked, grinding against Y/N with abandon, each movement coaxing her Alpha closer to the edge.

“Wan… Wanda—” Y/N gasped, voice breaking, as Wanda’s walls clenched around her again.

And then it happened. Wanda’s second climax hit, her body shuddering violently, nails digging into Y/N’s shoulders, head thrown back, moaning like it was the only language she knew. The scent of her heat filled the small room, thick and intoxicating, almost too much to bear.

But even that wasn’t enough. Her body didn’t relax; her hips jerked, pleading for more, chasing another wave of pleasure. Y/N’s own heart thudded violently as she realized it — Wanda needed her more than her body could tell, more than any single release could satisfy.

Her walls clenched again around Y/N, teasing, desperate, and the raw, unrestrained heat pressed against every inch of her. She was lost, caught between restraint and desire, every instinct screaming claim her, claim her, claim her.

Y/N groaned, biting her lip as she buried herself deeper, sliding in harder, moving with her need, desperate to bring Wanda what she wanted — even if it pushed her closer to losing herself entirely.

The cabin echoed with the sounds of desperate pleasure, panting breaths, and the unstoppable pull of fated desire, the storm between them only growing more consuming with every passing second.

The pull inside Y/N only grew stronger, a roaring tide she could no longer ignore. The voice in her head — her Alpha instincts — was deafening now. Claim her. Claim her. Make her our Omega. Our Omega. My Omega.

She pressed herself against Wanda again, groaning and growling, lips crushing onto hers as she tasted her desperate need. Every nerve in her body was on fire, every motion stoking the heat between them. Wanda writhed beneath her, moaning and gasping, lost in the haze of her own heat and desire.

Before she even realized it, Y/N shifted positions, moving behind Wanda, positioning her butt up before slipping inside her in a deep, demanding thrust. One arm braced against the mattress to hold them both up, the other wrapping around Wanda, pulling her close.

Y/N’s lips found the nape of Wanda’s neck — a sensitive, intimate spot, the very place where an Alpha’s claim would bond an Omega forever. She licked and nipped repeatedly, feeling Wanda shiver and mewl under her, hips pressing harder, desperate for every touch. Every movement, every sensation screamed claim her in Y/N’s mind.

The voice in her head continued to scream, relentless, possessive.

Then, somewhere deep in the fog of sensation, Y/N realized what she was doing, and panic lanced through her. No… stop… Wanda already hates me… I can’t… not like this… please. she fought the voice desperately, as tears streaked her cheeks. Her Alpha instincts raged against her mind, her body betraying every word.

Her movements didn’t slow, her tongue didn’t stop, every thrust and lick carrying her closer to the edge. She could feel the knot starting to swell, thick and urgent as she continue to thrust into Wanda. Her fangs aching to claim, to mark, to bind Wanda to her forever.

In a flash of desperate clarity, she bit down hard on her own arm, tasting copper, drawing blood, anchoring herself just enough to ride out the flood of instinct without losing control entirely.

Wanda’s cries and moans surrounded her, pleading and needy, urging her on even as she tried to fight. But it was too late — the sensations, the pheromones, the overwhelming pull of fate and heat were unstoppable.

With a shuddering cry, Y/N climaxed, knot swelling and slipping fully inside Wanda, locking them together. Waves of pleasure tore through both of them as Wanda’s body convulsed beneath her, moaning loudly, pressing every inch of herself against Y/N, utterly lost in need and release.

Y/N collapsed against Wanda, trembling, her body shaking with the storm of sensations she had just survived. Soft sobs escaped her lips, muffled against her arm she was still biting. Every fiber of her Alpha instincts was still thrumming with need, guilt, and the residue of pleasure. She bit down harder on her arm, the sharp pain cutting through the haze and grounding her just enough to keep from losing herself further.

She wasn’t sure what would happen if she let go completely — if she released the tension in her body, would she lose control again? Would her instincts push her too far? The thought made her shiver, and she held herself together by clinging tightly to Wanda.

Wanda, finally sated for the moment, had gone limp beneath her. Her breathing was slow, even, and her heat, for now, was tempered. She was sound asleep, curled instinctively against Y/N, small whimpers escaping her lips from lingering pleasure and fatigue.

---

Next Morning

Wanda stirred, eyelids fluttering open. Her mind was sharp now, lucid, and for a brief moment she felt… nothing unusual. Somehow, the overwhelming pull of heat was gone. She blinked, trying to gather her thoughts.

Then her body betrayed her. A dull ache radiated from her core, sore and wet, muscles tight from tension and release. Her nakedness on the bed made her gasp softly, a mix of shock and embarrassment flooding her. Slowly, memories crept back — the mission, the sudden onset of heat, the way it had overwhelmed her, how she’d lost control.

Her mind raced, trying to make sense of it. It wasn’t supposed to happen… but it did. And Y/N… The picture of Y/N carrying her from Hydra’s base, soothing her, staying close as her body demanded, forced itself into her thoughts.

Wanda’s chest tightened. She had always hated Alphas. They claimed, they abused, they forced Omegas into submission and then blamed them for manipulating with pheromones. The very idea of being at their mercy made her stomach twist. And now, naked and sore, she remembered how completely she had been at Y/N’s mercy.

Panic rose in her throat. Her hand shot to the back of her neck — the sensitive nape where Alphas claimed Omegas, the mark that would bond them forever. Her fingers traced her skin, finding… nothing. No bite, no mark. Relief washed through her, quick and sharp, but confusion followed almost immediately.

And then she heard it. A wet, ragged sound behind her. Alarm flaring, she turned sharply, eyes wide.

Y/N was there. On the bed, writhing, fangs bared, biting fiercely into her own arm. Blood smeared across her skin and the sheets. Her body trembled violently, taut with tension, every muscle straining, lost somewhere between instinct and desperation.

Wanda froze, heart hammering. “Y/N?” she whispered, voice shaking.

Y/N’s head lifted slightly, eyes glazed, unfocused, and a low, guttural groan escaped her lips. She wasn’t aware of Wanda’s gaze, wasn’t seeing her — she was trapped in the raw storm of her Alpha instincts, trying to control herself, trying not to harm the woman she loved.

Wanda’s mind spun. Her core ached, sore and sensitive from the intensity of her heat, every muscle still trembling from the release she hadn’t fully expected. And now she was faced with Y/N — the Alpha she hated, yet couldn’t deny the pull toward.

The Alpha she had refused countless times, brushing her off, cold and distant. The Alpha she had believed embodied everything she despised: possessiveness, entitlement, and the dangerous instinct to take what she wanted.

And yet… here she was. Naked, vulnerable, writhing, and entirely human in front of Wanda. The Alpha who had carried her from Hydra’s base, soothed her, and — astonishingly — slept with her during her heat without claiming her. Without marking her.

Wanda’s chest tightened at the memory, confusion and a strange, reluctant admiration mingling with the lingering ache between her legs. She had been so sure of what Alphas were, what they did, and yet Y/N had… restrained herself. She had indulged her need, had given in to her Alpha instincts, yet she hadn’t taken Wanda by force.

Her hands tightened slightly on the sheets, nails digging into the fabric as she stared at Y/N, who was still lost in her own storm of instincts, biting her arm, fangs itching, trembling to keep control.

Part of Wanda wanted to flee, to retreat, to bury herself in self-protection and old hatred. But another part — a deeper, more confusing part — couldn’t look away. She couldn’t ignore the way her body still ached, the way it still craved the closeness, the lingering warmth of Y/N pressed against her during the heat. And then there was the strange, disarming comfort in seeing Y/N struggle so hard not to hurt her.

Her eyes widened as she noticed the crimson staining Y/N’s arm — the Alpha had been biting herself to fight her instincts, to hold back the primal need to claim her. Wanda’s breath hitched. Slowly, cautiously, she reached out, hands glowing faintly with red magic, and gently cupped Y/N’s face.

“Stop… stop hurting yourself,” she whispered softly, voice trembling with a mix of awe and worry.

Y/N froze for a moment, still trembling, and then let out a broken sob, lowering her head into Wanda’s hands. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she whispered, “I… I’m sorry… I… I couldn’t… I tried…” Her voice cracked, raw with guilt, shame, and the lingering pull of instincts she had fought to restrain.

Wanda blinked, stunned. She had always assumed that Y/N — just because she was an Alpha — was dangerous, forceful, impossible to control, someone who would take without thinking. And yet here she was, a woman trembling, crying, and apologizing for not being able to control her own instincts.

Her hands moved instinctively, glowing as she closed the shallow wound on Y/N’s arm, the magic knitting the skin together, easing the sting and the blood. Y/N flinched slightly at the touch but didn’t resist, allowing herself to be cared for, even as sobs continued to shake her body.

“You… you didn’t hurt me,” Wanda said softly, voice barely above a whisper, still trying to process what she was seeing.

Y/N wiped at her tears quickly, shifting back slightly, keeping a careful distance. “Are you… okay? I didn’t… I didn’t hurt you, did I? Did I—” Her voice trembled, emotion raw, as she pressed her hands together in front of her. “I swear I was trying… I just…”

Wanda shook her head slowly. “No… you didn’t…” she whispered, her voice soft but firm. “You… you didn’t hurt me at all.”

Y/N took a cautious breath, still keeping a small space between them. Her voice was quiet, tentative. “Your… heat… how… how come it’s over? I… I thought it lasts a week.”

Wanda blinked, still processing the situation herself. She shifted slightly on the bed, running a hand over her forehead as if trying to steady her thoughts. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted, voice low, confused. “It… it wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this. It felt… induced, sudden… maybe because of the mission, or… or being so close to you. I… I think it never fully developed.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, disbelief mingling with curiosity. “Induced…?” she echoed, her own instincts still twitching at the memory of Wanda’s scent, her pheromones, the way she had lost herself completely.

Wanda nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah… it… it was triggered, I guess… by… by you being there. But it wasn’t my full heat. That’s why it passed so quickly… I… I think.” Her voice faltered, uncertainty and fatigue threading through her words.

Y/N’s chest tightened, a mix of relief and lingering tension pressing down on her. “I… I didn’t know it could… stop like that,” she admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I… I thought it would last… longer… I…” She trailed off, swallowing hard, trying to reconcile the lingering pull of instincts with the reality of Wanda’s sudden calm.

“I… I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice heavy with emotion. She reached for one of the blankets draped over the bed, wrapping it quickly around her naked form. Every movement felt clumsy, still taut with residual Alpha tension, but necessary — she needed distance, needed to ground herself.

“I… I need… I need to shower,” Y/N said quietly, avoiding Wanda’s gaze. Her voice was small, hesitant, but firm enough to leave no room for argument. “I’ll… I’ll be back.”

Without waiting for a response, she stepped away from the bed, blanket clutched around her, and moved toward the small bathroom of the safe house. The warmth of the water, she hoped, would help wash away some of the intensity, some of the instincts still clawing at her mind.

Behind her, Wanda remained on the bed, naked and vulnerable, still processing the surreal aftermath of her heat and the shocking reality of Y/N’s restraint. She lay there quietly, watching the door close, feeling both confusion and a strange, reluctant sense of trust beginning to form toward the Alpha who had… not claimed her, despite everything.

The room was silent except for the faint sound of running water, and in that quiet, both of them had a moment to breathe, to begin untangling the chaos of heat, instinct, and unexpected connection.

---

After leaving the bathroom, Y/N finally contacted the team, her voice calm but firm over the comms. “We’re both okay,” she said. She deliberately lied about the situation, fabricating a sudden rut and claiming Wanda had used her powers to contain her in the safe house. She carefully avoided exposing Wanda’s true second gender, protecting her secret as always.

The team acknowledged the message, voices full of concern, and promised to debrief them once they returned. Y/N ended the call, taking a deep breath and steeling herself for the trip back.

When they arrived at the compound, Y/N led Wanda inside quietly. Once they were alone, she turned toward her, eyes full of remorse. “I… I’m sorry,” she whispered once more, voice heavy with everything left unsaid. “For… for all of it.”

Wanda nodded silently, still processing, her mind tangled with the memories of her heat, the sensations, and Y/N’s restraint. She opened her mouth to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Without another word, Y/N wrapped herself in a blanket, avoiding further closeness, and retreated to her own room, leaving Wanda on her own to gather her thoughts.

The following week, Y/N deliberately kept her distance. She didn’t approach Wanda, didn’t try to talk or touch, carefully giving space while her instincts simmered beneath the surface, waiting.

Wanda, meanwhile, was still processing. Her emotions were tangled and confusing — relief, lingering desire, admiration, fear, and the faint stirrings of something unfamiliar and unsettling. She replayed the moments over and over, the feel of Y/N’s body, the way she had restrained herself, the closeness she had offered without claiming her.

She didn’t know what to think, or how to feel. All she knew was that despite herself, her thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N, and she couldn’t deny that the memory of the Alpha who had cared for her so intensely left her… unsettled in a way she didn’t understand.

---

The team had realized almost immediately that something was off. Y/N, who had spent every spare moment chasing Wanda since the day she joined, had suddenly gone silent. No teasing, no persistent invitations, no casual touches or lingering glances. If anything, she seemed to be actively avoiding the witch.

Nat was the first to break the silence. She didn’t waste time with pleasantries. She barged into Wanda’s room, slamming the door behind her with a sharp clack. “Alright,” Nat said, crossing her arms, her tone firm. “Spill it. What the hell happened with Y/N?”

Wanda looked up, her brow furrowed in confusion. “I… what do you mean?”

Nat sighed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Wanda. Y/N told us she had a sudden… rut during the mission. You both didn’t come back for two days, and now… now it’s like you’re actively avoiding each other. Something happened, and I’m not letting it slide. Tell me.”

Wanda’s stomach tightened. The memories of the heat, the safe house, the way Y/N had restrained herself, all surged back. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, trying to form words that wouldn’t expose herself.

Nat’s sharp gaze didn’t waver. “Did she—? I mean, did Y/N force herself on you?” she asked, carefully but directly. Her voice was edged with concern, but there was also that hard, unyielding undertone that made it clear she wouldn’t accept vague answers.

Wanda’s eyes widened. Her chest tightened. She had been so confused herself about what had happened, about her own feelings and sensations… and now Nat was asking this. Panic surged.

“No,” Wanda said quickly, shaking her head. “She… she didn’t. She—” Her voice faltered, and she stopped, unsure how much to say. “She… she tried to… hold back. She didn’t… she didn’t force me. I… I don’t know how to explain it…”

Nat’s expression softened slightly, though the concern in her eyes remained sharp. She crossed the room and stood in front of Wanda, arms folded, a knowing look on her face. “Okay,” she said slowly, her voice calm but pointed. “But… you two *did it*, right?”

Wanda blinked, caught off guard. “I… what?”

Nat’s voice dropped, quiet but laced with steel. “Wanda… did she hurt you?”

Wanda’s breath hitched. The question slammed into her, tearing at the knot in her chest. Her mouth opened, but no sound came. How could she say it? That it wasn’t Y/N’s rut but her own heat? That she had been the one losing control, clinging to Y/N, begging her? That Y/N had been so careful, so patient, even when instincts were eating her alive?

Her silence stretched too long.

Nat’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening. “She did, didn’t she?” Her tone hardened, venom dripping with every word. “That bastard— I’ll kill her.”

“No!” Wanda shot up from the bed, panic surging through her as her eyes glowed faintly red. “No, Nat, stop—please!”

Nat froze, thrown off by the desperation in Wanda’s voice.

“It wasn’t like that,” Wanda rushed out, her words tumbling over each other. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her chest. “She didn’t hurt me, she… she helped me. I wasn’t—” She choked, swallowing hard, her face burning with shame. “I wasn’t in control. It wasn’t her rut, Nat. It was… it was my heat.”

Nat’s brows knit together, her head tilting slightly. “Heat? But you’re a… beta.”

The word stung, almost like an accusation. Wanda’s breath hitched, her pulse pounding in her ears. She lowered her eyes, shoulders curling inward as though the weight of the truth might crush her.

“I’m not,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m not a beta.”

Nat blinked, caught off guard. “Wanda…?”

Her lips trembled, the confession clawing its way out of her throat. “I lied. I’ve always lied. I had to. No one would’ve let me stay here, no one would’ve taken me seriously if they knew I was an Omega.” Her hands clenched against her knees, knuckles white. “But I am. And the suppressants— they just—” she shook her head, frustrated tears burning her eyes. “They stopped working when I met her.”

Nat’s face hardened, jaw tightening as the realization sank in. “So you’re telling me… you went into heat. And Y/N was there.” Her voice was sharp, clipped—dangerously controlled.

Wanda’s chest tightened. “Nat—”

“Did she mark you?” Nat cut in, her green eyes burning with fury. “Tell me right now if she forced a claim on you, Wanda, because I swear—”

“No!” Wanda blurted, panic lacing her voice. She grabbed Nat’s wrist before she could stand, holding her down with desperate strength. “She didn’t. She didn’t do anything like that.”

Nat’s nostrils flared, unconvinced. “You were in heat, Wanda. You were vulnerable. And she’s an Alpha. Don’t you dare protect her if—”

“I’m not protecting her,” Wanda interrupted, her eyes glassy with tears. “I’m telling you the truth. She didn’t force me. She could’ve, but she didn’t. She was careful, Nat. She helped me through it. She… she was good to me.”

Her voice cracked, shame and longing spilling out in the same breath. “She held me when I thought I was going to fall apart. She touched me like I mattered, not like I was just an Omega in heat. And now she won’t even look at me, and I—” She bit her lip hard, cutting off the words, but it was too late.

Nat froze, her fists still clenched, but the sound of Wanda’s voice cracking made something twist in her chest. She sat back slowly, watching Wanda with sharp, searching eyes.

“Wanda…” she said carefully, her tone quieter now. “You’re saying she didn’t take advantage of you?”

Wanda shook her head fiercely. “No. She… she was the only thing holding me together. She didn’t hurt me, Nat. She helped me.” Her voice wavered, and she added in a whisper, “And I hate that she’s avoiding me now. I hate it because I miss her. I miss everything.”

Nat inhaled slowly, trying to let the fury drain out, but her protective instincts weren’t so easily calmed. “Alright,” she said finally, voice steady again. “If that’s what happened, then I believe you. But…” her eyes narrowed, “…I thought you hated her.”

Wanda froze. Her breath caught in her chest, her lips parting but no sound coming out. She had spent months making sure everyone knew how much she despised Alphas—their arrogance, their entitlement, the way they looked at her like she was something to claim. And Y/N…

Her throat tightened. Y/N had asked her out more than once, always gently, always with a hopeful smile that Wanda crushed every single time. She remembered the way she’d scoffed, the way she’d rolled her eyes, the venom in her voice when she told Y/N she would never want someone like her.

So why was her heart aching now, days later, because Y/N wouldn’t look at her?

“I…” Wanda’s hands fisted in her lap, her eyes stinging. “I don’t know anymore.”

Nat tilted her head, studying her. “You don’t know if you hate her, or you don’t know if you like her?”

Wanda’s breath hitched. Her heart pounded so hard it drowned out the quiet hum of the room. Deep down, she knew. She’d known from the very first time she laid eyes on Y/N—that strange pull in her chest, the way her stomach fluttered when those Alpha pheromones brushed over her like an invisible hand.

Suppressants had always worked for her, even when she was surrounded by other Alphas. But with Y/N… the pills faltered. Her body burned for her. The ache in her bones, the warmth that coiled low in her belly whenever Y/N was too close—it all made sense now, even if Wanda didn’t want to accept it.

She hated Alphas. She’d told herself that over and over, built up her armor against them. But Y/N wasn’t like the rest. Y/N wasn’t arrogant, wasn’t entitled—she was kind, steady, respectful. And that only made it worse.

So she pushed Y/N away. Again and again. She used her cold words, her scoffs, her glares as a shield. Because every time Y/N smiled at her, every time she inhaled those intoxicating pheromones, her body betrayed her. It ached. It *wanted.* Sometimes, it even tipped her into heat like it had this time—unexpected, brutal, undeniable.

Wanda swallowed hard, blinking fast as if the motion could push the truth back down where she’d buried it. But Nat’s piercing gaze cut right through her defenses.

“I don’t hate her,” Wanda whispered finally, her voice trembling. “I never did. I was just… scared. Because whenever she’s near, it feels like I can’t fight it anymore.”

Nat’s eyes narrowed slightly, her sharp mind putting pieces together with alarming speed. Suppressants failing. Heats triggered by a single Alpha. The way Wanda’s voice cracked just speaking of Y/N.

“Wanda,” she said slowly, deliberately, “this isn’t just attraction. Not the casual kind. You know what this means, don’t you?”

Wanda froze, her breath caught in her throat.

Nat leaned forward, lowering her voice even though they were alone. “Your suppressants don’t just stop working for no reason. Heats don’t just spike like that around any Alpha. That only happens with one person. Your person.” Her eyes softened, even as her words struck like a blade. “Y/N is your mate.”

Wanda’s lips parted, but no words came. Her whole body went still, as if the truth had knocked the air right out of her lungs.

Mate.

The word rattled in her chest, terrifying and undeniable all at once. She wanted to argue, to deny it, but deep down—deep where no walls or excuses could reach—she knew Nat was right. Every moment, every ache, every stolen glance at Y/N had been building to this truth.

And now that it was spoken aloud, there was no taking it back.

---

After talking to Nat, Wanda felt overwhelmed. She thought about Y/N being her fated mate. Was it true? Were they fated. But she swore she wouldn’t end up with an alpha. She swore she would fight. And now she found her mate.

She stayed the whole day thinking about it. When she realized it was already midnight.

With a sigh Wanda stand up and go out of her bedroom, heading for the kitchen.

The kitchen was dim, the faint hum of the refrigerator the only sound. Wanda padded in, expecting silence, but stopped short when she saw Y/N leaning against the counter, a half-empty glass of water in her hand.

The Alpha looked worn down, shadows bruising beneath her eyes. The second her gaze flicked up and met Wanda’s, she startled—almost like she’d been caught doing something wrong.

“W—Wanda,” Y/N muttered quickly, setting the glass down with a clink. “I’m going already. Sorry.”

She moved fast, shoulders hunched, as if she could escape before Wanda’s presence unraveled her further. But Wanda’s hand shot out, catching her wrist before she could flee.

“Wait,” Wanda said, breathless. Her touch tightened instinctively, her heart hammering. “I want to talk.”

And then it happened. Without meaning to, without even realizing, Wanda’s control slipped. The subtle pulse of her Omega pheromones slipped free, sweet and heavy in the air.

Y/N froze. Her eyes widened, panic sparking instantly as the scent hit her like a wave.

“Wanda—don’t.” Y/N’s voice cracked with desperation as she tried to pull away, but Wanda’s grip held fast. “Please, you—you can’t—”

“I’m not doing it on purpose,” Wanda whispered, realizing too late what was happening. Her body was betraying her again, answering to Y/N in ways she couldn’t stop.

The Alpha’s chest rose and fell sharply, like she was fighting for every breath. Her pulse thundered in her neck as she wrenched her wrist back, stumbling toward the hallway. “I need to go.”

But Wanda followed, her feet moving before her mind could catch up.

“Y/N, please!”

Y/N reached her room, slammed her palm against the door and tried to shut it, but the wood halted mid-swing, glowing faint red. Wanda’s magic held it open, trembling with the force of her own turmoil.

Y/N turned back, eyes dark and frantic. “Wanda—stop. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

But Wanda only took a step closer, her voice breaking as her eyes shone in the dim light. “Then tell me why it feels like I can’t breathe when you’re not here.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at Wanda’s words, the raw plea in her voice cutting straight through her. But instead of relief, instead of the hope she secretly craved, dread crashed over her like ice water.

Her hands trembled as she pressed harder against the door, trying to make it budge despite Wanda’s magic. “Don’t say that,” Y/N rasped, eyes locked on the floor, refusing to meet Wanda’s gaze.

Wanda blinked, stunned. “What?”

“You’re only saying that because of what happened,” Y/N forced out, voice low and ragged. “Because your heat—because I—” She stopped, swallowing hard, unable to finish the thought. Her throat burned with shame.

“That’s not true.” Wanda’s voice cracked, her fingers tightening on the wood as if she could hold her words in place the way her magic held the door.

Y/N shook her head fiercely. “You don’t mean it, Wanda. You think you do, but it’s just the bond messing with you. If I let myself believe it…” Her jaw clenched, her eyes finally lifting to Wanda’s, glistening with the weight of sleepless nights. “If I let myself believe you actually wanted me, and then I found out it was just pheromones—just your body tricking you—I wouldn’t survive that.”

The words landed like a blow. Wanda’s breath hitched, tears pricking her eyes. She didn’t let go of the door, didn’t let go of Y/N. Instead, she stepped closer, her voice trembling but fierce.

“Then make me prove it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, caught off guard.

“Let me prove that it’s not just my body,” Wanda whispered, her Omega pheromones pulsing heavier now, unable to be contained. “That it’s me. That it’s always been me.”

Y/N staggered back a step as if the force of it pushed her. “Wanda—”

But Wanda only moved forward, refusing to let her retreat again.

Y/N’s voice broke through the tension, bitter and trembling all at once.

“Then why did you always say no?” she asked, her eyes searching Wanda’s with an ache that made her stomach twist. “Every time I asked you out, every time I tried—you pushed me away. You even said…”

Her voice faltered. She looked down, jaw tight. “You even said you don’t like Alphas.”

Wanda’s lips parted, her throat tightening with guilt. “Y/N—”

Y/N’s voice cracked again, sharper this time. “So what changed, huh? Suddenly because your suppressants failed, because your body wants mine, now I’m good enough?”

The words burned as they left her, because even as she said them, her heart begged to believe otherwise.

Wanda flinched, tears welling at the edges of her eyes. “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it, Wanda?” Y/N snapped, finally lifting her gaze to meet hers, raw and desperate. “Because I can’t—” Her voice wavered, broke. “I can’t be the mistake you regret in the morning. I can’t be something you hate yourself for.”

Wanda’s breath shook, and she took a trembling step forward. “I never hated you,” she whispered, her voice thick with guilt. “I hated what you made me feel. I hated that every time you were near, my chest ached, my skin burned, and no amount of pills could make it stop. I told myself I hated you because it was easier than admitting the truth.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, her whole body tense. “And what truth is that?”

“That you might be the one I’ve been running from my whole life,” Wanda admitted, tears sliding down her cheeks now. “That you’re the Alpha who can undo me with a single look.”

The silence that followed was crushing. Y/N stood frozen, caught between disbelief and the yearning that clawed at her chest.

“Please,” Wanda whispered, voice breaking. “Don’t make me keep pretending I don’t want you.”

Wanda’s chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, her hands clenching at her sides. “I always hated Alphas,” she admitted, her voice raw, almost trembling. “Do you know why? Because they take whatever they want. And then they turn around and blame it on us—on Omegas. They say we tempted them, seduced them, like we’re nothing but… toys. Something to use when they can’t control themselves.”

Her throat tightened, but she forced the words out anyway. “I swore I would never let myself become that. Never let an Alpha decide who I was. So I hid. I took suppressants so strong they made me sick sometimes, but it was worth it. They hid my scent, they dulled my heat. They gave me control.”

Y/N’s jaw clenched, her chest aching as she listened, but she stayed rooted in place.

Wanda’s lips quivered as she continued, softer now, vulnerable in a way Y/N had never seen. “But since I met you, nothing works anymore. No matter how much I take, it’s like my body knows. The scent won’t stay buried. The heat keeps breaking through. And after… after that day in the cabin…” Her voice cracked, her eyes glistening. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About how it felt. I thought if I put enough distance, if I froze you out, it would fade. But it hasn’t. It’s only gotten worse. I miss you. I miss you so much it feels like it’s tearing me apart.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, pressing down on both of them.

Y/N finally exhaled, the sound shaky, almost broken. “You’re not the only one who felt it,” she whispered, her voice low but steady enough to make Wanda’s heart jolt.

Wanda’s breath caught.

“When I first met you, there was this… pull. Something I couldn’t explain. I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful in my life. And it didn’t make sense because you were a Beta—at least, that’s what everyone thought. Alphas aren’t supposed to feel something like that toward Betas, but I didn’t care.” Y/N gave a weak laugh, though her eyes stayed fixed on the ground between them. “I thought I was losing my mind, being drawn to you like that.”

She lifted her gaze then, meeting Wanda’s trembling one.

“And when I finally smelled it—your pheromones, your real scent… god, Wanda. Do you know how hard it was to hold back at the cabin? To fight my own instincts in that tiny place, when all I could smell was you?”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, words scraping out like a confession she’d buried too long. “It felt like every part of me was screaming to take you, to claim you, and it terrified me. Because I didn’t want you to think I was just another Alpha—like the ones you despise. I didn’t want you to feel trapped. I wanted…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “I wanted you to choose me, not be forced.”

Y/N’s voice cracked, the restraint in her tone raw. “So I fought it, even when my body was burning, even when it nearly broke me. Because the truth is, Wanda…” her lips parted, breath uneven, “…I’d rather destroy myself fighting those instincts than hurt you. Than become exactly what you’ve always feared.”

Wanda’s chest rose and fell too quickly, her eyes shimmering. She looked like she wanted to speak, but the words caught, tangled in her throat.

Y/N drew in a shaky breath, her voice low, almost breaking.

“I like you, Wanda. More than I’ve ever liked anyone.” Her eyes softened, even as her chest ached. “But I don’t want you to choose me because of… what happened. Because we lost control in that cabin. That wasn’t fair to you.”

Wanda’s brows knit, lips parting to protest, but Y/N pressed on.

“I didn’t claim you. I made sure of that. You still have a choice. You can walk away from me, and if you want to—” her voice faltered, throat tightening, “—you can mate with someone else. Someone you actually choose.”

The words hung in the air like poison. Wanda flinched as if they were physical blows. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.

“Someone else…” she whispered, the phrase tasting wrong, bitter, like ash in her mouth. Her stomach turned violently, nausea crawling up her throat at just the thought. The very idea of another Alpha touching her, of another scent binding to hers, made her feel sick, made her body recoil.

But across from her, Y/N wasn’t any better. The moment she let the possibility slip out loud, it was like she’d swallowed broken glass. Her gut twisted, her whole chest aching with the image of Wanda with anyone else. Her jaw clenched so hard it hurt, bile rising at the thought.

Both of them stood there, breath unsteady, their bodies betraying the truth their words refused to voice: the mere thought of belonging to anyone else was unbearable.

Wanda swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. “Nat… she told me something. She said… she said we might be—”

“Fated mates?” Y/N interrupted softly, her voice trembling. “I know. But even if that’s true, I… I won’t force you into anything. You have a choice. I’ll even—” She grimaced, pressing a hand to her mouth, “The thought makes me wanna puke but… if it makes you happy… ”

Wanda’s eyes narrowed, a flush rising to her cheeks. The sheer insistence, the self-denial—it irritated her more than she expected. “Y/N,” she said sharply, stepping closer, voice low but firm, “if you want a date with me… just shut up.”

Y/N blinked, startled by the intensity, her own body tightening with a mixture of fear, anticipation, and longing. “I—” she began, but Wanda cut her off with a frustrated groan, leaning closer, eyes locked on hers.

“I want you,” Wanda said, voice rough, desperate but controlled. “Not because of some heat or pheromones. Not because of anything else. Just… me. Only me. Understand?”

Y/N’s chest ached, the tension in her limbs fading just enough for her to breathe. She nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I… I understand.”

Wanda’s lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile, though her hands were still tight at her sides. “Good,” she murmured. “Then… maybe we can start with a date. And you can stop overthinking everything.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, shaky but genuine, and for the first time in days, the pull in her chest didn’t feel like torment—it felt like possibility.

Before Y/N could respond, Wanda stepped forward and threw her arms around her, pressing close. Her voice wavered, soft and desperate.

“Now… can you please… release your pheromones?” she whimpered against Y/N’s shoulder. “I’m… I’m going crazy.”

Y/N froze for a heartbeat, heart hammering in her chest. She could feel the subtle pulse of Wanda’s pheromones even through the embrace—an involuntary signal of need, of trust. Wanda’s body trembled against hers, shivering slightly as if her very nerves were raw and exposed.

Slowly, Y/N exhaled and let herself relax just enough, the tiny release of her Alpha scent washing over Wanda. Wanda’s grip tightened, letting out a soft sigh as her body visibly began to calm.

“You… you can breathe now,” Y/N murmured, voice gentle, careful. She rested her chin lightly on Wanda’s head, letting the subtle pheromone flow steady, protective. “I’ve got you.”

Wanda’s arms clung tighter, nuzzling into Y/N’s neck. “Don’t ever leave me like that again,” she whispered hoarsely, voice muffled against her shoulder. “I… I can’t handle it.”

Y/N hugged her back firmly, a small, reassuring smile brushing her lips. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised softly. “I’ll always be here. You just have to let me help.”

Wanda shivered again, but this time it was relief, not need or panic, as her breathing slowly evened out. For the first time in days, she felt safe—and like maybe, finally, she could trust someone completely.

Y/N hugged Wanda tighter, pressing her body gently against hers. She buried her nose in Wanda’s hair, inhaling the sweet, intoxicating scent of her Omega pheromones. A low groan slipped past her lips, the pull of her instincts undeniable even now.

“Dang it,” Y/N cursed under her breath, feeling her body betray her again, her cock stirring despite the calm between them.

Wanda pulled back just enough to look up at her, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Careful, Alpha,” she teased, the tension in her voice light and playful for the first time in weeks. “Don’t get too carried away before our date.”

Y/N couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her own lips, shaking her head with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Yeah, yeah… I’ll try,” she muttered, though her hands lingered gently on Wanda’s back, reluctant to let go entirely.

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, a warmth spreading between them that had nothing to do with heat or pheromones—just trust, understanding, and the first flickers of something new and real.

Wanda tilted her head, resting her cheek against Y/N’s collarbone. “I think… I think I like this,” she murmured softly, eyes half-lidded, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

Y/N chuckled, tightening her hold once more. “Me too,” she admitted, voice low and full of affection. “Me too.”

And in that quiet kitchen, with only the hum of the refrigerator and their steady breaths around them, they found a fragile, hopeful beginning. A chance to explore what they felt without fear, without control, just two people learning to trust that the pull between them could be something beautiful, something worth holding onto.

For the first time, both of them allowed themselves to imagine a future together—one step at a time, with love and hope guiding the way.

---

Weddings were supposed to be happy.

Natasha Romanoff scowled at the cream-and-gold envelope like it had insulted her personally. Which, in a way, it had.

Natasha wasn’t sure what annoyed her more: the fact that everyone was going, or the fact that they were all excited about it.

The invitation had been couriered in a velvet-lined box, a typically extra touch from Tony, who had apparently gone full sentimental since his wedding to Pepper. Stark had insisted on hosting Wanda and Vision’s nuptials himself, at some sprawling manor house he owned in the Hamptons. Big enough to fit the entire SHIELD team, plus family, plus plus-ones.

That was the part Natasha kept getting stuck on.

‘You are warmly invited to join us for the weekend- rehearsal dinner Friday, ceremony Saturday, brunch Sunday. Formal attire. Plus-ones welcome!’

The words stared back at her from the heavy cardstock like a dare.

Everyone was talking about it. Clint was coming with Laura and their kids. Steve had RSVP’d “maybe” because apparently he was still awkward about parties and modern social norms. Sam had mentioned bringing a woman he’d been seeing, serious, apparently. Even Carol had raised an eyebrow and said, “Think I’ll ask Maria. She’s better at tuxes anyway.” And true to her word, the next time Natasha saw them they were planning on matching suits.

And Natasha? She had… no one. Which wasn’t tragic, just a little inconvenient. Because for all her sharp edges and hard-earned detachment, even she knew what it would look like when she showed up alone to a house full of love and champagne flutes. She didn’t need the stares or the nudges or the pity disguised as small talk.

Not to mention: if she had to listen to one more person ask. “So… who are you bringing?” She might snap.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The next morning, she was more in her head than she liked to admit. Her boots echoed through the sleek hallways of Stark Tower, a bitter coffee gripped loosely in one hand, the other tucking her hair back absently. She hadn’t slept. Her thoughts spun circles, rehearsing excuses, brushing off questions, imagining herself at the rehearsal dinner with an empty chair beside her and a glass of vodka she didn’t want.

Which is probably why she didn’t see you coming.

You stepped out of a side hallway with a tablet in one hand, reading something intently, just as Natasha rounded the corner.

The collision was minor. The spill was not.

Splash.

Dark liquid sloshed across your blouse, splattering your chest and neck in one fast, shocking second.

“Shit-“

You froze, flinching at the sudden heat.

Natasha swore under her breath and reached instinctively for a napkin tucked into her jacket. “Damn it. I didn’t see you. I’m sorry.”

You blinked, not out of fear, just processing the impact. Your shirt was soaked and your tablet was now dripping and beeping sadly.

“Well...” You said after a pause, “I guess I’m awake now.”

Natasha looked you over quickly, assessing but not in a threat analysis way. You were younger than her, dressed in business casual with a lanyard tucked into your jacket. She didn’t recognize your face and she always recognized people in this building.

“Do you work for Stark?” She asked, brows drawing together slightly.

You nodded, still dabbing at your shirt. “Marketing. Technically Pepper’s team. I do a lot of the external communications stuff. Press kits, campaigns, corporate fluff.”

“Figured.” Natasha said. “I know every face in this tower. Yours isn’t one of them.”

You raised a brow. “I’m new. Just finished onboarding last week. I guess you really do know everyone.”

“I make a point of it.”

The way she said it wasn’t bragging, just fact. You tilted your head slightly, as if seeing her with fresh eyes. “That’s… a little intense.”

“I’m a little intense.”

You laughed, not mocking but genuinely surprised. “Good to know.”

For a second, neither of you moved.

You were standing in a puddle of cooling coffee, your blouse stained and your morning derailed. But you didn’t look angry. If anything, you looked curious like she had just disrupted your day in a way you hadn’t been expecting and maybe didn’t mind.

“I should sort this-“ You excused. “New shirt, coffee bath, and my calendar’s erased itself. Great day.”

“I can call down for dry cleaning.” Natasha offered, already pulling out her phone. “Or get someone from facilities to grab you a spare shirt from the merch room.”

You shook your head, still smiling faintly. “It’s fine. I was overdue for chaos today anyway. Seriously, I’ll be fine.”

Natasha wasn’t used to this. Casual ease. Civilians who didn’t flinch. You didn’t try to make conversation or ask for a selfie, you just were. Steady, warm, smart-mouthed. A weird comfort she hadn’t expected on a Monday.

“No, please. The dry cleaning downstairs can have it washed and dried in 30 minutes.”

“That’s impressive.”

“And needed.” Natasha eyed your blouse, the brown stain almost bleeding further across the stark-white material. “And I’ll buy you a coffee for the trouble?”

“Aslong as I don’t have to wear it this time.”

You laughed softly, trying not to fidget too much in your damp shirt and followed the redhead as she turned and led you toward the elevator. You tried not to stare at the way she moved, efficient, confident, like she was wired tighter than everyone else in the building. There was no wasted motion. No small talk, either. She held silence like armour.

“Stark really has his own laundry service in the building?” You asked after a moment of silence, trying to fill the quiet.

Natasha glanced sideways, a trace of amusement in her voice. “This building has a quantum-powered smoothie bar. Laundry’s not the weirdest part.”

“Right. Forgot I work in sci-fi now.”

She actually smirked at that.

The laundry room was pristine, tucked down a narrow hallway you were sure wasn’t on any public floor plan. Matte steel machines lined the walls, humming softly, nothing clunky or coin-operated about them.

Natasha tapped in a short code at the touchscreen console and one of the machines slid open like a bank vault.

“Drop it in.” She said, nodding toward the opening.

You hesitated, eyeing your blouse. “Right. Should probably take it off.”

Natasha, already crouched by the control panel, paused. “Yeah.”

You started to unbutton it slowly, aware of her presence, but doing your best to play it cool. The fabric peeled away sticky and cold from your skin. You folded the shirt and passed it to her, now left standing in your bra. lacy, a soft lavender and probably not entirely office-appropriate.

You could feel her glance before she looked back at the machine, slipping your shirt inside like it hadn’t just gotten a little awkward.

“Timer’s set for twenty-eight minutes.” She smiled, her voice steady. “You’ll get it back warm.”

“Great.” You said lightly. Then added: “Just one problem.”

Natasha turned. You were hugging your arms over your chest now. “I didn’t exactly plan on stripping in front of the whole of SHIELD today, so I don’t have anything else to wear.”

For a beat, she didn’t say anything.

Then without ceremony, she reached for the hem of her long-sleeve black shirt and pulled it off in one motion.

You blinked. She was already holding it out to you. “Here.”

“Are you-“

“I’ve got a sports bra on. You don’t.” Her tone was matter-of-fact.

You took the shirt, trying not to stare at her bare shoulders, the faint glint of a scar along one collarbone. Her sports bra was simple and sleek. Functional.

Natasha Romanoff was all sharp lines and quiet edges. And yet, somehow, she was handing you a piece of herself like it didn’t matter at all.

You pulled it over your head. It was loose, warm, smelled faintly like cedar and something darker like wind after a storm. It covered you down past your hips.

She looked at you, nodded once then leaned against the counter, arms folded.

“So.” You smirked, not quite sure what to do with yourself. “How many coffee related injuries do you cause per week?”

Natasha’s mouth quirked. “You’re the first.”

“Well.” You gestured at your borrowed outfit. “Glad I could make an impression.”

That pulled the smallest smile from her, a ghost of something wry and curious.

And just like that, the silence between you didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

“I still owe you a coffee.”

“Lead the way.”

Ten minutes later, you were seated across from her in the sleek Stark Tower café, far less flashy than expected, tucked into a glass alcove overlooking Midtown. It was quiet this time of day and your coffee order had come out faster than it should’ve. You suspected Natasha had something to do with that.

“You know…” You said, cupping your hands around the mug. “I expected you to be way scarier.”

Natasha leaned back slightly, one brow raised. “Disappointed?”

You tilted your head, teasing. “Not sure yet.”

She let out a low laugh, barely audible but real. “You’ve got guts.”

“And caffeine.”

“Same thing.”

There was a comfortable beat of silence as you sipped. You weren’t sure how this had happened, being here, sitting across from her but you weren’t about to question it. Not when the tension had softened into something almost easy. Almost fun.

Natasha was watching you. Not obviously, not unkindly but carefully. Like she was trying to figure out what box to put you in. You weren’t sure she’d found one yet.

“So.” She said finally. “What were you doing in that hallway anyway? Not just wandering around looking to catch flying coffee cups, right?”

You smiled. “Helping Pepper with some last-minute wedding planning.”

That earned a groan. You couldn’t tell if it was dramatic or genuine.

You grinned. “What?”

“She’s been in a spreadsheet induced spiral for three days.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve seen the color-coded seating charts.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Of course she color-coded.”

“She color-coded by personality type.” You added, with a smirk.

She stared at you, deadpan. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

You both laughed and for a moment it felt like you’d known her longer than thirty minutes.

“Why the face?” You asked, stirring your coffee idly. “You groaned at the word ‘wedding’ like someone was threatening you.”

She hesitated, just long enough for you to notice.

“It’s not really my thing.” She shrugged. “Big groups. Matching napkins. PDA. Plus-ones.”

You raised your brows. “Don’t like a good open bar?”

“I like vodka.” She countered. “I don’t like pity small talk from married people asking me why I’m alone.”

“Wow.” You said, deadpan. “Whoever asked you that must have a death wish.”

“They were brave. And drunk. Didn’t last long.”

You laughed, fully this time, a rich, bright sound that made her glance up again, this time without the usual walls behind her eyes.

“Well…” You said lightly. “I also hate matching napkins and PDA. I’m also being a loner this weekend and every other weekend.”

Natasha tilted her head, amused. “Are you offering to be my plus-one?”

You shrugged with a grin. “I mean, I wasn’t but I’d be happy to be of service. Besides don’t I owe you for the courageous offer of your shirt so I wouldn’t flash government officials.”

“Pretty sure I owe you.”

You sipped your coffee. “Exactly. I’m repaying a debt. Like some kind of marketing department damsel in distress.”

Natasha considered you for a long moment then set her cup down.

“…Alright.”

You blinked. “Wait. Really?”

“You basically offered.”

“Yeah but-“

“And I accepted.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. “Wow. I didn’t think that would actually work.”

Her lips twitched. “You said it yourself, you’re free this weekend.”

You tried to look nonchalant and failed completely. “Guess I am.”

Natasha picked up her cup again. “Good. Then pack something formal. Stark weddings are never subtle.”

“Noted.”

Another beat passed. This time, the silence felt like static, charged, not quite flirty, not quite serious. You broke it with a grin.

“So… is there a dress code or expectations for being an Avenger’s fake date?”

Natasha didn’t blink. “Don’t die.”

You raised your cup in a toast. “I’ll do my best.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Your phone buzzed while you were packing.

Unknown Number:

Send a pic of the dress.

You blinked then stared at the text for a second too long.

Well, that wasn’t ominous.

You texted back immediately.

You:

Bold of you to assume I’d be into anonymous dress kinks.

But sure, what are you wearing?

It only took a second before a reply came through.

Unknown Number:

It’s Natasha.

Shut up.

You grinned, already halfway laughing.

You:

Ohhhh well in that case? Still no.

You’ll see it at the wedding. I like the dramatic reveal.

Three dots appeared… then vanished. Then again.

Natasha:

Why are you being weird?

You:

You asked for a picture of my outfit like a sugar daddy? What’s the protocol here?

Do I send you feet pics too?

Across the city, in her apartment, Natasha stared at her phone with the dead-eyed expression of someone questioning every decision that had led her here.

Then, finally.

Natasha:

Just tell me the colour.

You chewed your lip, fighting a smirk, then typed.

You:

Technically? It’s ‘shadowed evergreen with cool ash undertones and a satin twilight finish’

Ten seconds of silence.

Natasha:

What the hell does that mean?!

You:

It means it’s a very sexy forest🫶

Natasha:

That’s all you had to say at the beginning.

Also that’s not a colour.

You:

You asked.

Don’t get snippy just because you don’t understand fashion.

Another pause.

Natasha:

...Is it short?

You felt your heart skip once, just once then smiled as you typed back.

You:

Wouldn’t you like to know?

It’s fitted. High slit. Low back.

You’ll manage.

Natasha:

You’re enjoying this.

You:

You asked.

Natasha:

I regret it.

You:

You’ll regret it more when you see me.

Try not to let it become a problem.

Natasha:

What I regret not leaving you soaked in coffee.

You:

Two more days and you can have a do-over with champagne…

Three dots. No reply.

You pictured her somewhere in her minimalistic apartment, tossing her phone onto the couch and muttering something Russian under her breath.

It made you grin harder than you wanted to admit.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The trees were thinning out ahead of them, tall pines giving way to the manicured gravel drive that wound toward Stark’s Hamptons estate. But the car ride still had time to stretch, twenty more minutes of shared space and too much quiet.

You shifted in your seat and glanced over at Natasha, arms on the wheel, eyes fixed on the blur outside the window. She looked like a statue someone had wrapped in black silk.

“We should probably get our story straight.” You commented, putting your phone down and turning towards her.

She blinked, just once then looked at you. “What story?”

“How we met.” You gave her a shrug and a crooked smile. “We’re supposed to be dating, remember? People are going to ask.”

Natasha made a face like she’d just remembered she agreed to something ridiculous. “Can’t we just say we matched on some app, I spilled coffee on you, which I did and kept it vague?”

“That’s your fantasy origin story?” You teased. “You spill coffee on my shirt and you’re like Better take this one to a wedding.’”

“I’ve done dumber things.”

You laughed. “Okay, fine. Let’s workshop it.”

She sighed and leaned back into the leather. “Alright. Shoot.”

You held up an imaginary notepad. “Option one: You saved my life during a corporate hostage situation. You fell for me literally, as crawled through the air vents.”

She looked at you flatly. “Pass. Also you work for Stark, I think he’d know if there was a hostage situation with his employees.”

“I work with Pepper and can say Stark doesn’t even know what time to shower unless Pepper tells him. Anyway, no problem.” You grin. “Option two. We were seated next to each other on a red-eye. You stole my pretzels. We fought. Then we made out somewhere over Nebraska.”

Her expression didn’t change but her lip twitched. “That one’s better.”

“Thought so.”

“But I don’t take red eyes. I have a quinjet.”

“Ok, show off.”

“What else have you got?”

“The boring kind. Meet cute in the supermarket? Friend of a friend set us up on a blind date? I stalked you like a weirdo fan.”

“The last one!”

“Of course you’d say that.”

“It’s realistic.”

“Not quite, I’m more of a Wanda fan.”

“She’s getting married, tough.”

“Only because she hasn’t met me yet.”

“You’re so-“

“I know.” Natasha went quiet, not in anger but admiration, she’d met her match.

She was quiet for a moment, then said. “So what’s your real type? Since we’re lying to each other.”

You looked out the window. “Hopeless romantic. The usual.”

“Fairy tales. Flowers. Making eye contact during sex?”

“Exactly.”

She snorted. “You don’t strike me as the hearts and roses type.”

You smiled, a little softer now. “I don’t believe in love. I just like pretending it’s real.”

That made her glance at you again, properly this time.

You added. “It’s like horoscopes. Bullshit but comforting.”

She didn’t answer right away.

Then: “I hate love.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Hate’s a strong word.”

“So’s ‘forever.’”

“Touché.”

“I like what love pretends to be.” She shrugged. “But love itself? Messy. Manipulative. Weak.”

You didn’t push. Just nodded. “So what do you believe in?”

Natasha stared out the window again.

“Control.” She deadpanned. “Chemistry. Sex.”

“Ah.” You said, biting back a grin. “The holy trinity.”

She finally smiled, crooked, deliberate. “At least I’m honest about it.”

You shrugged, settling into your seat. “Alright then. New origin story? We met at a bar. You said something cold. I said something stupid. Then we slept together. And just… kept doing it.”

“That…” Natasha said, eyes still forward, “…is the most believable thing you’ve said all day.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The car pulled up to the Stark estate, all towering stone archways and elegant glass, an estate that looked like it had been custom-built to host emotionally complicated billionaires and superhero weddings.

Natasha stepped out first, looking entirely unbothered. She wore a smart-casual line shirt tucked neatly into lightweight black dress pants, sleeves pushed just enough to show her forearms. Her sunglasses sat low on her nose, her expression unreadable.

Effortless. Controlled. Of course she looked good.

You followed her out of the car, brushing your palms over the fabric of your summer dress, a soft floral number, simple and light. It was the least daring of the dresses you’d packed for the weekend. You weren’t easing into things. You were pacing yourself.

Her eyes flicked over you, unreadable.But her fingers brushed your lower back as you stepped up beside her.

Instinct? Acting? You weren’t sure. Neither was she.

Inside, the front room was alive with voices, laughter, clinking glass and the full roster of Avengers in various states of casual travel attire. Sam, Carol, Maria, Clint, Tony, Steve and Bucky, all circling round the reception.

All eyes went to you and Natasha the moment the door closed behind you.

“Romanoff brought a date.” Sam said, mock-scandalised.

Carol blinked. “Wait, seriously? You weren’t kidding?”

Maria nudged her. “Let her get a drink first, damn!"

Natasha just raised an eyebrow like this was nothing new.

You smiled, stepped closer, and casually slid your hand into hers. She didn’t flinch or pull away. Just laced her fingers with yours like she’d done it a thousand times.

Pepper spotted you across the room and froze. “Wait- What?!”

You grinned. “Hi, boss.”

“I- I- How did I not know about this?”

Natasha answered smoothly. “We’re very discreet.”

“I work with both of you.”

“Exactly.” Natasha added, stepping in close to your side, her hand still warm in yours. “She only visits me after hours.”

“Please stop.” Pepper muttered.

“We met after work.” You explained. “At a bar… we didn’t know at first. A few drinks and Natasha was all charming but just so so broody-“

“Then we slept together.” She finished flatly, cutting you off.

Sam snorted into his drink. “Okay. I like this story. Let’s go back, don’t spare any details.”

“We’ve been inseparable ever since.” You smile, cuddling up against her side like it was second nature.

Natasha’s arm instinctively wrapped around your waist.

She gave you a sideways glance, low and amused. “That’s funny. Because someone didn’t text me back for three days.”

“I was playing hard to get.” You said, nudging her. “You liked it.”

“You were ghosting me.”

“I was thinking!” You turned to Pepper. “She’s so clingy.”

“I left for a mission.” Natasha said, deadpan.

“Exactly. Clingy and mysterious.”

“Please. You begged me to take you home.”

“Well maybe because your flirting was so bad, someone had to do something about it!”

“Maybe if you weren’t so unemotionally available to talk to!”

“I was not!”

“No, she’s right. She wasn’t…” Natasha’s hand slid a little lower on your back. “She cried after sex.”

“I did not-“

Maria burst out laughing. Sam actually gasped. Pepper covered her mouth.

You gasped, indignant. “You said I was the best you ever had!”

“I say that to everyone.”

You slapped her arm lightly but enough to earn a subtle smirk in return.

“Can we get our keys before I commit a public murder?” You asked sweetly.

Pepper, still recovering, handed over a sleek black envelope. “Second floor. Shared suite. Far end of the east wing.”

“I hope the bed’s big, we need a big enough one to fit her ego.” Natasha said, locking eyes with you.

You didn’t blink. “So do I, you snore like a pig.”

Natasha just smiled. “You’ll be too busy crying after sex again to notice.”

The whole room groaned.

As you tugged Natasha toward the stairs, hand still in hers, you leaned in and whispered. “Bet you’re not used to being out-charmed in your own games.”

Natasha just squeezed your hand and muttered under her breath, low and amused. “Game’s still on.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The suite was exactly what you’d expect from a Stark estate, bigger than most apartments, with sleek wood floors, modern furniture and a full glass wall that overlooked the trees outside. One kingsized bed sat against the far wall, all clean lines and crisp sheets, like every other part of the estate, nothing out of place.

Natasha walked in first, tossing her jacket on a chair, already scanning the place like she was expecting it to self destruct.

You followed behind her and dropped your bag on the bed closest to the window.

“So.” You said, eyeing the space. “Do you want the side near the door so you can make a quick escape or shall I take that one and make things interesting?”

She glanced at you with that unreadable look. “You were projecting down there, you're the one who snores. I can tell.”

“Wow. Judgy.”

“You talk in your sleep too.”

“Oh so now you’re just fantasising.”

She let out a short breath, maybe a laugh, maybe a sigh. Hard to tell. Then she said: “Rehearsal dinner starts in thirty. Don’t be late.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of saying you want to match outfits or?”

But she’d already disappeared into the bathroom, and the door shut behind her with a soft click.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You changed into one of the nicer dresses you’d brought not the showstopper, that was for the ceremony but the second-best one. Fitted, with a complicated strappy back, a deep neckline and a stunning shade of red that didn’t just draw the eye, it demanded attention and held it hostage.

You were just putting in earrings when Natasha emerged.

She’d traded the linen for something sharper. Dark, tailored, open collar. A suit jacket this time, no tie. Hair in loose waves, something nobody saw often with a few braids scattered.

She stopped when she saw you. Just for a second.

And then she said. “That’s the second least daring dress you packed?”

You smirked. “I told you I was pacing myself.”

She tilted her head, eyes dragging over the length of you. “You pace like you’re trying to kill someone slowly.”

“And you look like someone who doesn’t believe in foreplay.”

“Only with people who’ve earned it.”

You stuttered out a laugh, caught off guard but you’d never give her the pleasure of knowing that. “Let’s go, there’s a champagne glass with my name on it.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The rehearsal dinner was already in full swing by the time you reached the main hall, tall ceilings, string lights overhead and a long banquet table running the length of the room. Waitstaff circled with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Soft jazz floated in from a live trio in the corner.

Wanda spotted you immediately and lit up. She hugged Natasha first, quick and surprisingly warm then turned to you.

“And you must be…” Wanda’s eyes sparkled.

“Trouble.” You finished, smiling.

Wanda laughed. “I like her.”

"How are you feeling?"

"Nervous, excited. The wedding is this easy part, it's keeping up wit this spectacle Stark forced on us."

You mingled easily. More easily than Natasha expected, judging by the way her gaze kept flicking toward you from across the room.

You weren’t loud. You weren’t fake. But you were good.

Polite. Political. Smart. The kind of person who answered nosy questions with grace and just enough mischief to keep them guessing.

“I work in marketing for Stark Industries.” Natasha overheard you say once, hand resting lightly on someone’s arm. “Which means I lie for a living but only beautifully.”

You handled Clint with charm, Bruce with kindness, and Carol with so much wit that Maria had to hide her grin behind a champagne glass.

You even made Tony pause.

“Who is she?” He asked Natasha at one point, halfway through a glass of scotch. “She works for me?!”

Natasha didn’t answer, just watched you from across the room.

You caught her eye once and held it. And smiled like you knew something she didn’t.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Wanda stood near the fireplace, her glass of wine barely touched. She watched Natasha across the room, now alone, swirling a drink slowly in her hand. The corner of her mouth twitched.

She walked over.

“I like her.” She said softly, without preamble.

“She’s good at pretending.” Natasha didn’t look up. There was no point in lying to a literal mind reader.

Wanda smiled. “That wasn’t pretend.”

“She’s charming. It’s a skill.”

“Maybe. But she wasn’t the one pretending tonight.”

Natasha glanced at her then, sharp, neutral. “You reading me now Maximoff?”

“I don’t have to.” Wanda said, swirling her wine. “You wear it like perfume."

“Wear what?”

“The way you look at her.” Wanda said, her voice velvety smooth. “Like she’s a loaded weapon you’re hoping never gets aimed at you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “She’s not a threat."

Wanda tilted her head. “Exactly.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Wanda added, low and knowing, “She wants you. And you’re trying so hard not to want her back, it’s practically screaming.”

Natasha’s jaw flexed.

“I can help you lie to everyone else.” Wanda said gently, stepping back. “But not yourself.”

And with that, she slipped away, leaving Natasha standing in the amber-lit room, silent, glass still in hand.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The rehearsal dinner had finally wound down, the last glasses of champagne drained and someone, probably Clint, caught trying to sneak dessert into a napkin for later.

The suite was dim when you returned. You kicked off your shoes, sighing like you’d just survived a battlefield. In a way, you had.

Natasha followed you in, quiet as ever, closing the door behind her.

“So?” You asked as you started to undo the copious amount of jewellery that adorned your body. “How did I do?”

There was a pause.

“You’re terrifyingly good at this.”

You grinned, stepping towards her and turning, gesturing towards the zip. “Told you I lie beautifully.”

Her hands shook as she pulled down the zip, watching more and more skin appear, the curve of a shoulder, the dip of her spine, each inch undoing her composure like thread unraveling in slow motion.

“Done.” She croaked out, immediately clearing her throat after.

“Thanks.” You smiled, holding up the dress with your left hand, disappearing into the bathroom, hearing a sigh of relief behind you.

When you came back out, you were in an oversized tee, bare legs, no makeup and smelling of a mix of vanilla and coconut. You looked casual but soft. Natasha had already stripped down to a tank top and loose joggers, sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through something on her phone like she wasn’t hyper-aware of you.

You walked over and flopped down beside her.

And the second your weight hit the mattress, her eyes flicked to yours. “I can take the sofa.”

“I think we’re a little past pretending we’re that polite,” You told her, pulling your legs up and stretching out beside her. “Besides, I don’t bite.”

Her lips curled slightly. “That’s disappointing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t if provoked.”

She didn’t look away. “Noted.”

And just like that, neither of you moved, the bed suddenly feeling too big and way too small at the same time.

You turned off the bedside light.

And in the dark, your voices felt quieter. Closer.

You rolled onto your side, your arm brushing hers. “Don’t worry. I don’t kick or snore or talk in my sleep. No matter how much you insist I do.”

“Great.”

“But I do cuddle.”

“Immediately no.”

“I can’t help it. I’m like a koala bear.”

“Yeah well I’m like a polar bear so don’t try it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You mumbled tiredly. “Big, scary, dangerous assassin. I could do some damage too, you know?”

“Oh yes, I’m so scared of the biting, cuddle threatening koala that knows all things marketing, how will I ever escape colour coded files and manipulative email- OW.”

“I told you I bite.” You simply murmured, watching through lidded eyes as she rubbed her arm where your teeth sank.

“You are insane.”

“I must be to be here right now.”

“Go to sleep.”

“You really do have a thing about control.”

“And you really like pretending that doesn’t interest you.”

You smiled into the dark. “Just trying to understand the rules of the game.”

“There aren’t any.”

You let that hang between you for a moment, the silence heavier than it should be.

“Sweet dreams Natasha.”

She didn’t respond but she didn’t roll away, either.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You felt her move before you heard her, the shift of weight on the mattress, the whisper of sheets, the near-silent sound of feet hitting the floor.

Natasha never really slept, not the way most people did. It was more like she paused… reset. Eyes still closed, you heard her zip something up, then the faint creak of the door opening.

Of course she would run more miles than you could count on both hands before a wedding like it was any other day.

You didn’t move. Just let the door click shut behind her and sank a little deeper into the pillow, the scent of her shampoo still clinging to the sheets beside you.

By the time she returned, you were out of bed, hair half-styled, robe cinched loosely at your waist, mascara in hand and one earring in.She stepped inside, sweat-slick and infuriatingly calm, like her pulse had never spiked.

Her eyes flicked over you, bare legs, flushed cheeks, one slipper on.

“Morning.” You grinned, like it wasn’t completely unfair how good she looked post-run.

She nodded once. “You start getting ready without me?”

“I figured you wouldn’t need help getting dressed.”

Her gaze lingered a second longer than necessary.

“You’d be surprised.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Is that a request?”

“Not yet.”

And just like that, she disappeared into the bathroom — leaving you there, smiling into your second earring like this wasn’t building toward something inevitable.

The sound of running water humming to life seconds later. You stared at yourself in the mirror, hair nearly finished, makeup done, skin still warm from the hair appliance and nerves.

Then you turned to the dress. That dress.

That deep shade of green, open back, structured yet slinky all at once. You’d worn it in theory before when you described it to her via text and she acted unimpressed.

But now it was real.

You stepped into it slowly, carefully adjusting the fabric where it hugged your hips, smoothing it over your thighs. The straps fell into place across your shoulders, fabric twisting at the bottom of your back in delicate, purposeful chaos.

The zipper was halfway up when the bathroom door opened

You didn’t turn around.

“Romanoff?” You called over your shoulder, playing it casual.

A pause, a few footsteps. She didn’t answer, not right away.

You reached behind you, fingers fumbling at the zipper.

“Can you help?”

A moment of silence followed before a few footsteps again. Slower this time.

She came up behind you, close enough that you could feel her body heat before she even touched you. You caught her reflection in the mirror, damp hair swept back, skin still flushed from the shower, eyes locked on the open expanse of skin down your spine.

Her fingers brushed the small of your back, just once. Then found the zipper.

She pulled it up slowly, carefully, dragging the fabric into place with the kind of precision that felt practiced. Mechanical. Except her touch lingered a second too long at the top, fingertips brushing your skin before dropping away.

You exhaled. “Thanks.”

Natasha’s voice came quiet behind you. “You were right.”

You blinked. “About what?”

She met your eyes in the mirror.

“That dress is a problem.”

“I could take it off if it’s going to cause problems.”

She didn’t flinch, just tilted her head, lips curving slightly. “You’ll have to behave yourself at dinner. We’re with the team.”

“Oh, I won’t.” You said, brushing past her on the way to the bathroom. “But it’ll look polite.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The ceremony was beautiful. Wanda glowed. Vision looked like he’d downloaded five separate wedding manuals and still managed to look overwhelmed.

You and Natasha sat close, too close in the front row. Her knee bumped yours once. You didn’t move. When the bride walked down the aisle, you leaned in just enough, your voice low, words almost too casual.

“Is it wildly inappropriate to admit I’ve been undressing the officiant with my eyes for the last ten minutes?”

Natasha choked on her breath and tried to cover it with a quiet cough.

“Unbelievable.” She muttered. “She’s at least double your age, if not triple.”

"She’s giving such divorced professor who teaches ethics but definitely doesn’t follow them energy.”

Natasha blinked. “What is wrong with you?”

You shrugged, sipping your drink. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a type. Emotionally distant women with sharp tongues and commitment issues.”

Her jaw ticked. “Charming.”

You glanced at her. “Takes one to know one.”

You’d never seen her look more alive than when she was trying not to smirk in public.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Later, at the reception, the two of you drifted between conversations, hands brushing, fingers ghosting over the backs of chairs, subtle glances exchanged across champagne flutes. Your act was flawless. But something was cracking at the edges.

Natasha watched you laugh at something Sam said and looked away too fast.

You caught her watching and smiled like you’d caught her red-handed.

At one point, Tony stood up, scotch in hand, eyes already a little too glassy and tapped his fork against his glass like he was hosting an awards show.

“Alright, alright.” He grinned. “I’m invoking a sacred wedding tradition.”

Groans went up across the long room.

“Oh, shut up. I’m being romantic.” Tony insisted. “To celebrate love, passion, mutual tax benefits, all the lovers in the room, grab your partner and kiss ‘em.”

You and Natasha exchanged a look across your wine glasses, a perfect mix of horror and absolutely not.

Then, in unison, you both made a very quiet, very dry fake gagging sound. It was subtle. Synchronized. Discreet enough for dignity.

Until you looked up and realised everyone else was actually doing it. Lips meeting. Hands on cheeks. Some modest, some… very much not from those who had indulged in a glass of champagne too many.

You froze. Natasha went unnaturally still beside you.

And then, of course. “Don’t be shy, Romanoff!”

Sam called across the table, raising his glass with a grin. “We know it ain’t your first time.”

The whole table turned.

Carol looked way too amused. Bucky raised an eyebrow. Even Pepper was watching with the kind of polite curiosity that made it worse.

You turned slowly toward Natasha.

She didn’t say anything, just arched a single brow.

You cleared your throat, leaned in slightly. “Well…” You murmured. “…you did say we were committed to the bit.”

“I said I was committed, not an exhibitionist.” She gave you a once over, slow and unreadable. “Just keep your hands to yourself.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

And then, with every eye on you, she leaned forward.

One hand rested on your thigh beneath the table, grounding. The other found the edge of your jaw, fingers light.

She kissed you.

Not quick. Not hesitant. Not entirely performative.

Just long enough to hush the room. Just slow enough to register.

And then she pulled back, face impassive like she hadn’t just lit your entire nervous system on fire.

“Better?” She said quietly, looking around the table.

Sam raised both eyebrows. “Well damn.”

You reached for your wine without a word, mostly to hide your smile.

Natasha’s thumb brushed your knee before she let go.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

After dinner, music picked up. Lights dimmed. Someone tried to drag Natasha to the dance floor. She muttered something about bruised toes and melted into the shadows, only to appear beside you five minutes later with two glasses of wine.

You took yours and clinked gently against hers.

“To fake love.” You said.

“To real chemistry.” She replied. You didn’t break eye contact.

And for a moment, nothing existed beyond the space between your knees brushing under the table, her gaze flicking to your mouth and that magnetic pull that had stopped being part of the performance sometime around… yesterday.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You didn’t drag her to the dance floor. Not really.

You just walked up behind her during some slow jazz instrumental and held out a hand without looking like she’d already agreed.

Natasha gave you a flat look then sighed like it pained her and followed you out anyway.

She didn’t dance, not properly. She shifted her weight, let you twirl lazily in front of her, arms loose around your waist like she was making sure you didn’t trip. You teased her about her rhythm. She muttered something about ‘former assassins not being trained for ballroom etiquette’.

“Yeah but you’re holding me like you’ve done this before.” You said under your breath.

She didn’t deny it.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You ended up back at the table after a few too many wedding cocktails. Natasha stretched out beside you, one ankle crossed over the other, wine glass spinning slowly between her fingers.

Bucky was mid story when you casually dropped. “Oh, Nat? She told me when we first met that she’d have left if I’d ordered a mojito.”

“She did what?” Clint asked.

“Swear to God.” You said. “It was the mint. Apparently it’s weak.”

Natasha didn’t blink. “You told the bartender you wanted a cocktail that ‘tastes like a vacation and a bad decision.’”

You nodded proudly. “And you stayed.”

“I was bored.” She drawled. “And you were wearing that backless thing. I was curious how it came off.”

Carol spit her drink.

You just raised your glass and said. “So I won.”

“I meant to ask earlier…” Sam trailed off. “How hard were the new agents coming at you? Your arm is a mess.”

Natasha frowned, looking at where Sam had pointed and saw exactly what he meant. The smirk immediately appeared, her voice teasing. “That's not from the agents."

“Oh.” The fake couple saw the realisation set in. “OH!”

“Sorry.” You shrugged, brushing your knuckles against the blossoming bruise.

“You two are something else. Remind me to thank Pepper for putting my room the hell away from yours!”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You volunteered to get the tequila. Seemed fair since Natasha had endured dancing, your relentless one-upping and two rounds of you using her as a human shield to avoid sentimental speeches. A round of shots felt like a peace offering.

The bar was busy. You leaned against the counter, waiting for the bartender, when someone slid up beside you.

Tall. Confident. Overconfident. Drunk.

You clocked the energy before he opened his mouth.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” He sneered, eyes flicking down your dress in a way that made your skin crawl. “You here with someone?”

You gave him a polite smile. “Yeah. My girlfriend.”

“Yeah?” He grinned. “Where is she?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Somewhere very close.”

He laughed like that meant something else entirely. “You sure she wouldn’t want to share?”

You blinked. “I’m gay.”

He leaned in a little. “That’s because you’ve never tried me…”

You opened your mouth, not entirely sure what you were going to say when a voice slid in behind you, smooth and cold.

“She has.”

You turned slightly, and there was Natasha. Calm, unreadable, dangerous in that effortless way she carried herself. Her arm slid around your waist, her other hand casually taking the shot tray from the bar like this was all completely ordinary.

“She’s not interested.” She said, her voice low but sharp enough to cut glass.

The guy didn’t take the hint.

He gave her a slow once over, cocky grin in full force. “What, you speak for her now?”

Natasha’s smile turned razor edged. “When you stop listening? Yeah.”

He laughed, short and loud like he thought he was still in control. “You got attitude. Bet you’re a real bitch in bed.”

You felt Natasha’s body shift beside you. The hand on your waist tightened, just slightly, not for show this time but restraint.

She stepped in, slow and deliberate, her mouth right near his ear. “I’ve killed men for less than what just came out of your mouth.”

He pulled back, startled, blinked like he’d just realized he was speaking to the Natasha Romanoff.

“Now baby…” Natasha said, her voice smooth as silk but still humming with the edge that made your heart pound. “Are you ready to go back to the table?”

You should’ve said yes. You should’ve grabbed the tray of tequila and made a joke, rolled your eyes, kept the game going like nothing happened.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stared at her, flushed, breath tight, stomach doing somersaults and before you could second guess it, you stepped in.

And kissed her. Not for show. Not for the team. Not to out-do anyone. Just because she was so hot it physically hurt.

Because her voice in your ear, her hand on your waist, the look on her face when she threatened that man like it was just another Tuesday, it short circuited your good sense. The kiss was firm, deliberate, a little reckless. You felt her inhale sharply through her nose, like you’d surprised her and maybe you had.

But she didn’t pull away or laugh or joke or make it part of the bit.

Her hand came up, thumb brushing your cheek as her mouth moved with yours, just once. And the team lost their minds somewhere in the distance.

“Holy shit.”

“Okay, damn.”

“YES, NATASHA!”

You barely heard them. You were too busy clinging to the edge of breath.

Then she pulled back, barely, her eyes somehow darker than before. 

“Now I’m ready.” You breathed, pupils blown. 

“Good girl.” She murmured quietly, taking your hand in her spare one and pulling you back to the table.

And just like that, you knew you were in trouble.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

By the time the last round of drinks hit the table, you were both quieter. Not tired but full of whatever this was now. Charged. Loosened. Buzzing.

The kisses, plural now, had come and gone. One from Tony’s toast. One you initiated because she’d said baby like that.

But neither of you had really recovered.

Natasha was sitting too close, thigh pressed to yours under the table, hand resting dangerously high on your knee. Her arm wrapped around the back of your chair and her fingers running up and down the skin of your arm. At one point, you leaned in to say something and didn’t pull back. Her lips brushed your jaw like it was an accident. It wasn’t.

You fed her a lime slice with your fingers. She licked the juice off and smirked when you stared.

You said goodnight to the team, barely got the words out between half-laughs and flustered smiles.

Natasha didn’t say anything. She just stood when you did and followed. Her hand landed on your lower back like it had every right to be there.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

The hallway was quiet, carpet soft beneath your heels and her presence behind you was heat.

You were laughing about something stupid, something she said in your ear that made you snort and nearly trip out of your heels. She caught your elbow automatically, steadying you, her fingers lingering. You didn’t step away.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You said without turning, your eyes a little glassy.

“I’m not looking at you.” She replied.

You could feel her looking at you.

“You’re bad at lying when you’ve had tequila.”

“I’m bad at pretending you’re not beautiful when you laugh like that.”

You stopped walking and turned to her. 

She nearly ran into you, didn’t bother stepping back. Just stared down at you with that half smile, half dare playing on her mouth.

Your voice came out a little breathless. “This isn’t part of the bit anymore, is it?”

Natasha’s gaze flicked between your eyes, her voice low. Honest.

“It hasn’t been for hours.” And then she kissed you. Not careful or playful or performative for the others.

It started soft, mouths brushing, testing but there was nothing uncertain about it. Her hand found your waist, pulled you flush and your breath hitched as you reached for her shirt like it might ground you. She broke the kiss for half a second. Just enough to breathe. Just enough to look at you.

Then her body pressed forward, backing you into the hallway wall with a clumsy, desperate kind of precision. Her mouth found yours again, messier this time, deeper and needier. 

One hand slid to the side of your neck, her thumb under your jaw, holding you there like she needed the contact. The other braced flat beside your head, trapping you in like she wasn’t giving you the option to think, let alone run.

You moaned into her mouth, surprised, maybe by how badly you wanted this. Somewhere between kisses, your hand fumbled for the key card. It slipped once. She cursed softly against your lips, took it from you and shoved it into the lock like she could break it open with willpower alone.

The door swung open. She guided you inside without looking. The room was dark, quiet, unfamiliar and none of it mattered.

You kissed her again, harder now. A laugh caught in her throat as you tugged at her blazer, fingers sliding beneath the hem. She turned you, walked you backwards blindly until your knees hit the edge of the bed.

Somewhere in the dark, her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I do.” Your answer was instant. “I want you.”

And then her mouth was on your throat, your hands under her shirt, her laugh low against your skin as you gasped. All heat and grip and tension finally snapping.

Fingers tangled in hair, knees shifting on sheets, hands gripping thighs. You felt her everywhere, her hands skimming under your dress before she near enough ripped it off, her mouth dragging across your collarbone, her breath at your ear like a promise and a warning all at once.

You gasped something, maybe her name, maybe just a sound and she answered with a shiver, a press of lips against your throat, a whispered “I know.”

And everything you hadn’t said, written across skin instead.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You woke first. Kind of.

Your eyes opened slowly, sunlight spilling across the room in quiet gold. The sheets were twisted around your waist. The air smelled like hotel linen and skin. Warmth bloomed behind you, a body, close, breathing even.

Natasha.

She was still asleep or doing a very convincing impression of it. One arm slung low across your stomach, her legs tangled with yours, her nose tucked into the back of your shoulder like she’d meant to keep her distance and just… hadn’t.

You stared at the ceiling, smiling like an idiot.

When she finally stirred, a soft sound in her throat, a stretch, a slow blink, her hand flexed where it rested on your ribs.

“Morning.” You said, voice scratchy.

She didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you, heavy-lidded and sleep-mussed and hummed like you were a warm secret she hadn’t meant to keep.

Then she flopped onto her back and muttered. “You snore.”

You gasped. “I do not.”

“You do.” She said flatly. “I knew it. Cute but loud. Like a small, overconfident animal.”

You rolled over and hit her with a pillow.

She caught it mid swing, smirking.

The sheets fell to her waist. You stared for a second too long.

She noticed but did nothing about it.

“You hungry?” She asked, casual.

“Starving.”

“I saw the menu for the brunch downstairs last night. It looks incredible, we should sneak down early to get the best stuff.” 

You grinned. “Why sneak? We’re practically newlyweds now.”

She snorted. “Right. Mission complete.”

You blinked.

“Huh.”

“Mission complete.” She repeated. “One more day of fake hand holding and pretend kisses and you can go back to emails and tinder.”

Just like that, it shifted. She didn’t mean it cruelly. It wasn’t harsh. Just a throwaway comment. A reminder. That it was fake. That it was supposed to end.

“Right. Of course.” You nodded, quiet. "Mission complete."

She didn’t notice the change in your voice. Or she did, and ignored it. You sat up, reaching for your robe, trying not to show the sting.

Her eyes flicked to you. Opened her mouth. Closed it.

But she didn’t say anything. 

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Brunch was already in full swing when you and Natasha arrived. She should have known the team would think the same as her and beat her to the good stuff.  The sun was too bright, everyone a little hungover and louder than they should’ve been. Mimosas clinked. Chairs scraped. Someone cheered when you stepped onto the terrace.

“Look who finally emerged!”

“Hey, lovebirds! Rough night?”

“Hope the hotel charged double for damage.”

You smiled, barely but just enough to be polite.

While Natasha gave them a look. “You’re all disgusting.”

Clint wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re glowing, Romanoff. I’m just saying.”

You laughed, quiet and short, and reached for a glass of juice instead of champagne. Natasha followed you to the table, sliding into the seat beside you. Her hand found your thigh under the table, thumb brushing slow circles, familiar, casual.

You stiffened. Not entirely dramatically but just enough. Then, without a word, you crossed your legs and gently dislodged her touch.

Natasha stilled. Her eyes flicked to you, studying your face like a puzzle she hadn’t realised she needed to solve.

You didn’t look at her.

You were busy stirring sugar into your coffee, listening politely to Pepper talk about the speeches later, nodding along like you hadn’t been wrapped around Natasha Romanoff eight hours ago whispering her name against her skin.

She leaned in, voice low near your ear. “You okay?”

You didn’t look up. “Fine.”

Something inside her curled. Wrong. Tight. Had she said something? Had some done something? You were happy this morning, right? Even happier last night.

This was different. You were different.

Still warm on the outside, still smiling, still engage but that spark, that electricity she’d gotten addicted to overnight? Gone. Like you’d pulled it back behind your ribs where she couldn’t reach it.

And Natasha didn’t understand why it felt like a loss.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Natasha didn’t push it.

She let you be, all through brunch, all the way to the car. No comments, no teasing. Just silence, stretched thin between you in the back seat.

She glanced at you as the engine started. “Want to talk?” She asked, voice low.

You didn’t look up from the window. “I’m just tired.”

And true to your word, you were asleep within minutes. Head tipped against the glass, arms folded across your stomach. The kind of sleep that only happens after emotional exhaustion, not rest.

Natasha watched you for a long moment before settling back, quiet. When the road curved, she took it slower than necessary. At one point, you shivered, even in the sun. She peeled off her hoodie at a stop light and carefully laid it across your lap, tucking it under your arm so it wouldn’t fall.

No one spoke the entire ride home.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

When they pulled up to the tower, she turned in her seat and touched your shoulder gently. You stirred, eyes slow to open, still soft from sleep.

“We’re here.” She said.

You blinked, sat up, then slowly started gathering your things. No words yet. No smile.

Just quiet.

And then at the curb, you turned to her, expression calm but something unreadable behind your eyes.

“This weekend was nice. Really.” Natasha opened her mouth but you kept going. “Thanks for inviting me. And… I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

She blinked. “Wait- Can we just-“ 

But you were already stepping out, already walking toward the elevators with that same gentle poise that had undone her all weekend. Not angry. Not cruel. Just done.

The doors slid closed before she could follow.

Natasha sat in the car a while longer, hoodie still warm from where it had rested against your skin and didn’t move.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

It was late afternoon when Natasha found herself standing in the common room, fingers curled loosely around a mug she hadn’t touched. She hadn’t meant to linger in the tower like a lost puppy but her legs didn’t take her anywhere else.

The doors hissed open behind her, soft heels and familiar energy.

“Hey.” Wanda said, breezing in with a duffel bag over her shoulder. Her hair was braided loose, the way she always wore it when she traveled. “I’m grabbing some things before we disappear. Don’t tell Tony or he’ll throw another brunch.”

Natasha gave a faint huff. “The last thing I need is to be sat on another table with all of them again.”

Wanda paused, looked at her properly and could sense the turmoil. “You okay?”

Natasha hesitated.

Then, finally and for once, honestly. “No.”

Wanda said nothing, just walked to the kitchen, poured herself a coffee and leaned against the counter, waiting.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I’m right where I need to be right now.”

Natasha didn’t look at her when she started. “You know I invited someone to the wedding. And I know you know it was supposed to be a fake date. But it wasn’t fake. Not really.”

Wanda tilted her head, quiet.

“There was always something there.” Natasha continued. “We kissed, more than once. We-“ She stopped, swallowed. “Saturday night, we- It wasn’t pretend anymore. But I said something this morning about the whole thing being a bit, about it being over. And she-"

Her voice cracked, just slightly. “She just… shut off. And left.”

Wanda was quiet for a moment, sipping slowly. Then, gently. “So let me get this straight. You took a girl you really like to a romantic weekend with your entire found family, made her feel wanted, kissed her like she was yours, slept with her and then reminded her it was all pretend?”

Natasha winced. “It wasn’t like that.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it?”

“She knew the deal. We were joking about it from the start.”

“And did you tell her when it stopped being an actual joke for you?”

Silence.

Wanda softened. “Nat… that girl looked at you like you hung the moon. I saw it. Everyone saw it.”

“She brushed me off.” Natasha said, quietly. “Didn’t even want to talk about it.”

“Because she was probably humiliated.” Wanda said, still kind but honest. “She gave you more than she meant to. And she probably thought you didn’t even notice.”

Natasha’s jaw tensed. “I did.”

Wanda set her mug down. “Then maybe it’s time to tell her.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You weren’t supposed to see her.

That was the whole point, sneak in, drop off the hoodie, grab Pepper’s flash drive and her backup files and get the hell out. You were already late, already unraveling.

Your bag felt like it weighed thirty pounds. You’d dropped your phone directly in some stupid water feature at the office and somewhere between your apartment and the security desk, your lanyard had vanished.

“Ma’am.” The guard said, definitively. “I can’t let you in without ID.”

“I work here.” You snapped, trying to keep your voice polite. “Well not here but for Pepper Potts so I kind of do! I’ve been in and out of this building for months.”

“And today…” He said, unmoved. “…you don’t have ID.”

“I just need to go up and drop something off. I’m not trying to hack the Pentagon for god sake-"

“I need you to calm down.” He interrupted, like it was a reflex.

You bit down hard. “I am calm.”

“Ma’am.” The lead guard said, clearly already bored. “We’ve been over this. No ID, no entry.”

“I’m literally on the list-“

“There is no list.”

“I’ve been here dozens of time-“

“And today?” The younger guard cut in, smug. “You’re not cleared. So either step aside or-“

“I don’t have time to step aside! Do you not understand I’m trying to do my job?”

The younger one moved. “And so am I-“

“No, you’re being unreasonable! Just call Tony Stark.”

“We will not be bothering Mr Stark!”

“Call any of them, they know me!” You almost begged now.

"Yeah, yeah, they always do." He laughed. "Why don't you call him?"

"I can't because my phone isn't working-"

"Convenient. If you continue to harass the Avengers or any SHIELD agents, I'm gonna have to take you into custody."

"Custody? I WORK HERE!"

“Look ma’am, I need you to calm down and come with us.”

“No.” You snapped, chest tight now. “I am not being manhandled because I can’t find my damn badge when I WORK here!”

Before it could escalate further, he moved again, grabbed your arm, too hard.

You yanked back instinctively. “Get off me-“

That was it. He spun you, fast, one hand in the middle of your back, the other twisting your arm behind you. The cuffs were on before you could catch your breath. Too tight. Metal biting into skin. The hoodie you had clenched in your fingers, her hoodie, that had been dry cleaned and ironed was down crumpled on the dirty tiles. 

“I said stand down!” He barked, like you were some kind of threat. “Do you know how many stupid people I deal with a day? Pretending The Avengers know them?!”

“I do know them!”

The pressure on your wrist made your knees buckle. “Yes and I know Barack Obama.”

“No, wait- You’re hurting me!” You gasped, trying to squirm free, tears springing hot and sharp at the corners of your eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you-“

⋆⋆⋆⋆

“Security breach in the Lobby, Zone A.”

Friday's voice came through the tower’s comms, flat and automatic. Most people ignored it.

But Sam, glancing at the monitor, frowned. “What now?”

He tapped into the security feed, projecting it on the flat screen that hung on the wall in the common room and just as the camera came into focus. “Wait, is that-"

Natasha was already gone.

⋆⋆⋆⋆

You were still protesting when the elevator doors opened, his voice echoing in your ear, loud enough for Natasha to hear and to almost sprint over.

“Little girls like you need putting in their place, it’s all women’s rights these days and you think you can do what you want.” He sneered, tightening the cuffs. “You just need a firm hand like me to put you in your place.”

You didn’t see her at first. You were too busy trying to breathe, wrists burning, arm throbbing from where it had been twisted up too far. Your voice had broken halfway through yelling.

And then. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Everything stopped. Natasha’s voice cut across the lobby like a gunshot. The guards froze.

You turned, dazed. She was stalking toward you, red-faced, furious, lethal. She didn’t care who was watching.

“Take those off her. Now.”

The younger guard stammered. “Ma’am, she- she was uncooperative-“

“She works here. She’s cleared under Pepper Potts’ access and under mine.

He quickly worked to undo the handcuffs and it took one look at your face for Natasha to crumble. You knew you probably looked a mess, tear streaked cheeks, pouting with your arm held by your other, rubbing softly over where the pain was currently throbbing, drops of blood running down your arm from where he had inappropriately tightened the handcuffs. 

Natasha was in his face now, pure venom in her voice. “She’s bleeding. She was detained over what? A lanyard and a bad attitude? You think that justifies twisting her arm? Do I look like I tolerate that kind of shit?”

No one answered.

“Did she ask for clearance?”

“She said to call you but- Ma’am- Agent Romanoff, a lot of people ask to see you. Fans and-“

“I’ve heard enough.” She silenced him, turning to you, hands already at your wrists.

Her fingers were feather-light as she ran her fingers over  the marks the cuffs left, like even touching them hurt her more than you.

Your breath shuddered.

“Come on.” She said softly, eyes locked on yours now. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

⋆⋆⋆⋆

Natasha didn’t say a word as she led you through the tower. No more guards. No apologies. Just her hand hovering close to your back, not touching but there if you needed it.

Her room was dark and quiet when she opened the door for you. Unfamiliar but predictably minimalist. The hoodie you’d meant to return was still clutched in your good hand, wrinkled and useless now.

She flicked the bathroom light on, rummaged silently through the cabinet and returned with a small kit.

“Sit.” She said, gently, nodding toward the bed. 

You sat, too tired to argue, too raw to speak.

She knelt between your legs without hesitation, ignoring the squeeze in her chest. She didn’t say much, just moved with quiet purpose, opening the first aid kit, switching on a soft lamp. Her touch was gentle as she cleaned your wrists, one hand steadying you, the other dabbing antiseptic with controlled care. Almost too gentle. Like she was scared you might flinch away.

Her eyes kept flicking up to your face, trying to read you, trying to make sense of what she’d done, what she hadn’t said.

You flinched slightly when her fingers grazed a nasty spot on the inside of your wrist. “Sorry.” She murmured.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“I had this dry cleaned and ironed but now-“ Your voice cracked as you placed the hoodie on the bed, the day weighing heavily. “Now it’s creased and he made me drop it.”

“Shhh.” She soothed. “It’s okay. It’s okay. They shouldn’t have hurt you.”

You didn’t speak, just looking down at her to finally meet her eyes. 

“I hate that you got hurt.” She murmured, voice low. “I hate that it happened here, where you were supposed to be safe.”

“I’m okay.”

“That’s not the point.” And then she reached out, slow, careful and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. Her hand lingered. Your breath caught. The look between you shifted, it was too warm, too familiar. 

You didn’t know who leaned in first.

But suddenly, her mouth was on yours.

A kiss that meant too many things. And for a moment, just a moment, you self indulged and let you let it happen.

Until the weight came crashing back. You pulled away with a sharp inhale, standing too fast. “I can’t.”

“Wait-“

“I shouldn’t have come. I just- I need to go. Pepper is waiting and I-“

You turned, heading for the door but her hand caught your arm, not tight, just grounding. “Please.” Her voice was almost a beg. “Don’t go. Just… talk to me.”

You stopped. What did you have to lose anyway?

“The weekend wasn’t fake to me.”

She didn’t speak.

You turned back around, heart pounding. “I know it started out as just some fun but I didn’t pretend. I wasn’t acting. And you were- God, you were so there. And then the second it was over, it was like none of it mattered.”

Natasha opened her mouth but you kept going, hurt spilling out like a slow unraveling.

“You kissed me like you meant it. You held me like it mattered. And then you went back to pretending. You shut me out. You made me feel stupid for believing any of it meant something. And I shouldn’t be blaming you because I knew this was fake and I’m a big girl. It’s my fault if I felt something and you didn’t but I-“

Her eyes flickered. “I did.”

“What?”

“I did feel something- I do feel something.”

You hesitated. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I didn’t know how.”

She stepped closer, carefully, like she was afraid of breaking whatever was left between you.

“You’re not stupid. You’re not overreacting. I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I should’ve said it then, I should’ve stopped pretending sooner. But it was real for me, too.”

You stared at her, trembling, still a little breathless.

“You’re not just saying it?” Your voice came out so small, it shattered Natasha’s heart just a little. 

“I’ve pretended to be a lot of things but this? I never pretended to want you.”

And when she kissed you this time, it wasn’t desperate.

It was an apology and a new beginning all in one.

You let her guide you backwards, falling slow into the sheets, her mouth never leaving yours. Her hands moved with confidence now, familiar, dragging your jacket down your arms, fingers ghosting under the hem of your shirt like a promise.

You arched up into her, breath hitching when her mouth trailed along your jaw. She was just starting to slide over you fully, knee between your thighs, when-

Bzzz. Bzzz.

You groaned. “You have got to be kidding!”

Natasha reached over without looking, snatched the phone from the nightstand, glanced at the screen, and smiled. wicked, unhurried.

“It’s Pepper.”

You sat up halfway, flushed and disoriented. “Oh god- Just ignore it!"

But she’d already answered. “Potts, now’s really not a good time.”

A pause.

Then Natasha glanced at you, smile deepening as she looked you over, shirt half-off, lips kiss-bitten. She’s… extremely unavailable.”

You couldn’t hear Pepper’s reply but Natasha eye-rolled fondly. “Pepper, I will do anything you want me to do if you just give us 30 minutes-“ She smirked. “Make it an hour and then I’ll come over and help you myself.”

She hung up before Pepper could reply, tossed the phone somewhere behind her and leaned back down with a smirk.

“Now.” She murmured against your throat. “Where were we?” You laughed, breathless and buzzing.

X--X--X--X--X

In all honesty, you could’ve been a lot nicer. You did need help after all. But you just had possibly the worst day of your “immortal” life.

Which led you to right now. Avengers Compound. The lounging room. With guns, repulsers, and… wiggly red fingers aimed at you.

“Wait, I come in peace!” You yelped, raising your hand and dropping the milkshake onto what is probably a pretty expensive rug.

“We just had that cleaned..” Black Widow mumbled to herself.

“You have five seconds. Explain.” Iron Man said, his repulsors charging up.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the repulsors on his hands “Wait, wait, five seconds is not nearly eno-“

“Three seconds.” He warned..

“I’m being hunted by the vampire hunter who killed all my family and friends, " you yelled, squeezing your eyes shut.

The silence and lack of pain implied either that you were atomised so quickly you didn’t even realise it.. or they didn’t shoot.

You braved to open one eye and were met with eyes filled with confusion, suspicion, and of course, Iron Man’s mask.

“You’re… a vampire?” Captain America asked hesitantly.

You nodded slowly, taking your time to lower your hands. You tensed at the feeling of someone’s consciousness against yours.

Your eyes flit to the Scarlet Witch, who was looking at you with a slight frown. You let out a soft sigh and lowered your mental barriers, allowing her to see.

-

Your mothers’ 803rd wedding anniversary.

All the guests and friends.

The sole man dressed in all black.

The burning. The horrific smell and screams.

Both your moms staring at you, apologising as they pushed you off the cliff.

Your scream as the Ebony Blade cuts them both in half.

-

You blinked away the tears as the memory faded, only to find equally watery eyes right in front of you.

“She’s telling the truth. She’s not dangerous.. to us.” Wanda said, with a slight hoarseness in her voice.

You felt her hand gently squeeze your knee.

” I’m so sorry, sweetie.” 

You don’t flinch at her voice in your head. It was the first nice thing anyone had said in the past seventy-two hours.

“This will be a fun dinner party.” You heard Tony’s voice, breaking the silence.

X—X—X—X—X

When Mr. Stark mentioned a dinner party, you should have expected this.

No, this was absolutely, one hundred per cent on you.

You stared at the tens of people in the hall. All of whom were either avengers or friends and family.

“Like the view, quackula?” Came Tony’s voice from behind.

You grimaced, “You do realise the last party I went to, everyone I love-loved ended up dead, right?”

Tony’s face fell.

“What..” He asked.

You frowned, “That dickbag hunter come to my moms’ wedding anniversary.”

He looked at you for a moment in disbelief before he turned around, muttering to himself.

“Goddamn witch and her silence treatment. FRIDAY, tell Happy to stop the guests from coming. Only Avengers. Yes. Ask them to come to the third-floor lounge.”

You looked at him, stunned, before calling out to him, “Wait. Mr. Stark- Mr. Stark?”

He was too far away for him to hear you, so you simply walked quickly and stood in front of him.

“Mr. Stark wa-“

“JESUS CHRIST, " he yelped, his eyes widening as he flinched backwards.

You frown, confused.

He rubbed his temples and took a deep breath.

“So I take it vampire speed is real.” He said, glaring at you.

You give him a sheepish nod. Honestly, being surrounded by vampires your whole life, you’d kind of forgotten humans can't do that.

“Also. Call me Tony.” He said as the two of you walked to the door. “Mr. Stark was my father. Plus, I’m sure you’re nearly as old as Sparkles.”

You give him a nervous laugh, “Actually, I-“

“Alright, here we go.” He interrupted, walking into the lounge.

You could feel yourself tense as you entered a room with fifteen or so people, all of whom stopped what they were doing to stare at you. Only to resume the conversations moments later.

You must have been standing at the entrance for too long because Wanda walked up to you and bumped her shoulder against yours.

“Hey.” She said softly.

You gave her an embarrassed smile. “Hi.” You say with equal softness.

“Is it too much?” She asked.

You simply shake your head, “I’m just.. It’s been a few days.. Yet somehow, it feels both like it just happened and that it happened decades ago.”

She gave you an understanding nod, “I know what that’s like. It… doesn’t really change with time.. at least not for me.”

“Hey, quackula,” you hear Tony call you from the bar. “Want a Bloody Mary?”

You and Wanda burst into giggles as you walk to the bar.

“Quackula?” Wanda asked as the two of you sat on stools.

You shrugged, pulling your jeans up a little, exposing your socks that were covered in ducklings.

The laugh Wanda let out at the sight practically had you melting.

You needed to hear that laugh. For the rest of your hopefully very long life.

You saw a plate of canapés nearby and let out an excited squeal. Wanda looked at you, amused, and tried to follow your line of sight.

Her eyes widened as you disappeared right in front of her with a gust of wind, appearing in front of the poor, frightened server.

“Oh my god, can I have some, please?” You asked him excitedly.

“Y-yes ma’am..” He said, his hands trembling.

Your smile fell when you saw his terrified expression.

“Are you okay? Your heart’s beating really fast.” You ask, taking a step towards him, freezing when he takes a few steps back.

“I-Yes. I’m so sorry. I..” He stammers before letting out a whisper. “Please don’t eat me.”

Before you could react, you felt Natasha casually slide up next to you.

“You doing okay, Gibby?” She asked.

The man visibly relaxed at the sight of her, nodding as he let out a deep exhale.

“Why don’t you head to the bar, Gib?” The spy said, taking the plate from him with practised ease. “You’ve earned a drink.”

He nodded all too eagerly and scampered off.

You stare at the space where he was standing moments ago, your eyes looking far away. You’re only brought back to the present when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Natasha looks at you with a gentle smile, the plate of Canapés in her hand.

“Want some?” She asks.

You take a deep breath in, not because you needed it, but because the simple act of breathing helped clear your mind.

You open your eyes and smile, nodding.

You grab one and are about to eat when you hear Sam Wilson’s voice.

“Wait, that has garlic.”

Natasha doesn’t move fast enough; you’ve already chomped down on a handful of them with a pleased expression.

Sam comes jogging up to you, ignoring the looks from strangers.

“Are you okay? That had garlic..” He said, concerned.

You look at him confused, “Yes..?”

He freezes for a second, “Is.. garlic not.. fatal?”

You tilt your head in confusion, “Like, am I allergic? No. I’m not really allergic to anything.”

“No, that’s not.. You know what, never mind.” He says, looking particularly embarrassed.

Natasha said nothing, watching the entire interaction with amusement.

The three of you continued to talk (you, in particular, asking about the Avengers) until Wanda joined the conversation.

“You forgot this,” Wanda said, holding a glass filled with a Bloody Mary.

You snickered, taking the drink into your hand and were about to take a sip when you noticed the three of them very obviously staring at you, or rather, your mouth.

Self-conscious, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“What?” You asked, eyes darting between the three of them. “Do I have something on my mouth?”

They had the decency to look embarrassed.

“It’s not that, kravyshka,” Wanda said, her ears burning.

You glanced at Natasha, who was looking at Wanda with a raised eyebrow and a teasing smirk.

“We.. We were wondering if you had fangs… like in the movies.” Wanda finished, her face pink.

You giggled, finding a flustered Wanda an adorable Wanda.

It wasn’t soon that the four of you were pulled into a circle where the game of truth and dare started.

You giggled, “I didn’t know Avengers played high school party games.”

Many cracked smiles at that.

“Alright, Quackula. Truth or dare? This game is for us to get to know you and you us.”

You smiled, “Truth.”

A few cheers were heard. Even Wanda smiled. Tony grinned satisfactorily.

“Alright then. A question everyone is dying to know. Do you, or vampires in general, consume blood?”

You nod immediately, “Yes. But, not human. Well, not unless they’re your.. partner.”

Tony looked intrigued. “Explain?”

Your eyes flitted to Wanda’s curious ones.

Clearing your throat, you began. “Well.. you see, the thing is. We don’t really produce blood on our own. And we need it for.. actually, I’m not sure, cause it’s like some science and magic stuff, but basically we need blood to survive. But most of us use animal blood that’s delivered to us.”

You see some pouts and smile reassuringly,

“Don’t worry. These animals are having the time of their life. It’s like a blood donation from them. Enough that they don’t really feel it, but also we have plenty. As for human blood.. well, I’ve been told consuming human blood has.. Um.. strong effects for both vampire and human. Our venom kind of creates.. um..”

You were definitely blushing right now, one glance at Wanda told you that she knew exactly what you were talking about.

“It’s like vampires in kingdom of immortal lovers..” Natasha asked.

You looked at her, stunned.

“By Ruby Roe?” She clarified.

You nodded slowly, gulping.

“Um.. yeah. Something like that.”

While some nodded in understanding (based on their smirks), the rest were left more confused than when the game started.

You cleared your throat, “Okay, um.. my turn.”

Your gaze automatically flits to Wanda.

“Wanda, truth or dare?” You ask gently.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, the rest of the group collectively rolled their eyes and smirked at the scene.

“Truth.” She said, not breaking eye contact.

You gulped again, feeling your face heat up at a simple glance.

“Um.. Are- are you single?” You ask, face practically on fire.

Your embarrassment flares exponentially when the group begins to laugh and whistle at your question.

Wanda gives you a smirk as she nods, “Yep. I am not currently in a relationship.”

“Good to know.” You whisper, staring down at your now-empty plate of what used to have canapés.

The game continued, Wanda asking Sam, Sam daring Steve, Steve daring Tony, Tony asking Bruce, Bruce asking Natasha, Natasha daring Sam.

When Sam’s dare of giving the ex-winter soldier a lap dance ended, he sat back on the couch and looked at you with a smirk.

“Dare or dare?” He asked you.

You giggled, pretending to think.

“I guess dare?” You say teasingly.

“Fangs,” he said confidently. “Show ‘em.”

If you weren’t embarrassed before, you certainly were now. “I.. I can't.” You said.

Bruce frowned. “Do vampires not have fangs?”

You nodded, “They do... but um... they’re hard to control if you don’t have experience.”

“What do you mean by experience?” Steve asked in a polite tone.

“So the thing is, you have to be over three hundred to be able to control your fangs properly…”

Natasha leaned forward, intrigued. “How old are you, then?”

You smiled sweetly, “I turned twenty-six two months ago.”

“Oh my god, you’re a baby,” Tony said, shocked.

You snorted, “Technically, I’m a legal adult.”

“Barely,” Steve said, frowning.

“Okay, okay, but we still want to see the fangs,” Sam said, his smirk remaining the entire time.

You looked at him confused, “but.. I can't control them.”

“That’s okay, when do they come out naturally?” Bruce asked inquisitively.

“Oh, um, when things get intense, like anger, near-starvation, and um… yeah, that’s it”, you said, cutting yourself off.

Natasha raised an eyebrow.

“You sure that’s all?” She asked teasingly.

You nodded frantically, “Yep. That’s it. Starving and Angry.”

The spy hummed, her eyes twinkling.

“Wanda, Sam, come here for a second.” She says.

The two walk to her, intrigued. They huddle together before Wanda pauses for a second and turns to you.

You were innocently sipping your Bloody Mary (which annoyingly didn’t have blood or alcohol) when she called out to you.

“Detka, you wouldn’t happen to have super hearing, would you?” She asks sweetly.

You should probably have applied more sunblock to your face, considering how much it was heating up.

“Um.. maybe?” You say shyly.

“Hmm. Just to be safe, then.” She turns, linking Natasha and Sam telepathically to her.

They discussed for a moment before Wanda let out a chuckle, looking at you with a smirk.

Your curiosity got the best of you, and you leaned towards Bucky, who was initially suspicious, but seemed to have changed his mind once you gave your age.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” You whispered to him.

He looked at you, huffing out a breath with a slight smirk. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough, kiddo.”

You sat back, pouting.

”Patience, detka. We’re almost done.”

Hearing Wanda’s voice in your head nearly made you jump. When you glanced at her, the look she gave you made your tummy flutter and something.. deeper inside you tingle.

The conversation was apparently over because the three nodded and sat back in their seats, except for Wanda, who began walking over to you.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Sam announced theatrically, “Who’s ready to potentially see vampire fangs?”

You frown, about to call out, but that’s when Wanda sits beside you.

“Detka,” she says softly. “I’d like to kiss your cheek and maybe your neck if that’s okay with you?”

You had to wait. You told yourself you had to wait long enough that you didn’t seem desperate. Given Wanda’s smirk at your frantic nodding, it didn’t work.

Your eyes flit nervously to the group, only to find all of them smirking and cupping their hands over their eyes.

All except for Natasha, who was smirking at you, arms folded over her chest.

“You ready?” Wanda asked softly.

“Yes, please.” You breathed.

“Good girl.” She said with a smile, leaning in and placing her lips gently on your cheek.

It was a good thing you were sitting because the mere feeling of Wanda’s lips on your skin sent a shockwave down your body, making your legs and most of your body feel like jelly.

She placed her hand on your thigh for balance as she proceeded to make her way down to your neck. The goosebumps that made their way across your skin left tingles in their wake.

When Wanda’s lips brushed against a particular spot on your neck, you inhaled sharply, chastising yourself since you didn’t even need to breathe.

Wanda seemed to appreciate the sound because her grip on your thigh tightened, and she bit that area lightly, making you gasp.

It was enough to make your insides clench and feel a sudden burst of pressure on your gums.

Wanda must have felt you tense because she pulled back, almost pulling a whine from you with her.

Her eyes flitted down to your open mouth, her gaze darkening as she let out a slow, breathy ’fuck’.

You stared at her, unaware of anything other than her. The sweet vanilla perfume. The thrumming of her pulse. The sound of her heartbeat made you dizzy. You could feel it. The hunger. Not just for blood. For Wanda.

The movement of Wanda’s lips brought you back to the present.

“..me? Detka?” She said softly.

You blinked a few times before returning your gaze to her.

“You okay?” She asked softly.

You tried to give a reassuring smile but winced when your fangs cut through your lower lip.

A whistle made you look around.

“Those babies are sharp”, Sam commented.

You licked the blood off your lower lip, the wounds healing within seconds.

“When will they retract?” Bucky asked, concerned.

You gestured ‘around five minutes’ with your hand.

You turned to Wanda and froze; her heated gaze was locked on your lower lip, where your tongue had been seconds ago.

You reached for Wanda’s hand, snapping her out of her daze and looking at you with a reassuring smile.

She sat beside you, making you hyper aware of every point of contact as the next round of the game continued.

Eventually, you took out your phone and began scrolling through the food delivery app.

“Hey, Mr. St- Um, Tony. What should I put in for this place's address? I need to order food.” You said.

Tony frowned, “We have a fully stocked pantry here, why- oh.”

You nodded, “Yep.” You said, popping the P.

“Wait, you can order blood from your phone?” Steve asked, intrigued.

You nodded, “Yeah, there’s an app for it.”

“What’s it called? The app?” He asked.

“Uh.. Uber Eats..” You said, confused.

“They give blood??” Sam asked, laughing.

You nodded sheepishly, thanking Tony when he gave you the address.

When the blood arrived, you were grateful nobody was staring at you directly, even though you knew everyone’s attention was on you.

The blood had been delivered in a flask, and you were currently making a proper Bloody Mary.

You had made two glasses worth and were walking back to the couch. Wanda smiled at you as you sat down and eyed the two glasses with intrigue.

“You wanna try?” You offered the first glass.

She hesitated before nodding.

“What should I expect? What kind of.. blood is in it? What does it taste like?” She asked, looking at you nervously.

“It won’t taste bad.” You promised, “I asked for pig’s blood from one that had been fed honey-based treats. So the blood itself should be sweet. Although you shouldn’t be able to really taste the blood since your palate isn’t built for it.”

Wanda nodded, breathing deeply and then took a sip.

You looked around to see that the small group was staring at Wanda, waiting for a reaction.

The witch’s eyebrows shot up, and she gulped.

“Well..? How was it?” Natasha asked.

“It was.. sweet.” Wanda said, “Like.. It just tasted like a slightly sweeter Bloody Mary.”

She turned to you, eyes wide. “Wait, does this mean I could be turning into a vampire?”

You giggled, shaking your head. 

“No, Wanda. It just means I’m an amazing mixologist.”

Wanda gave you a shy smile and nodded, “Right.”

“Okay. Witchy is alive.” Tony declared, then eyed the drink. “Hand it over. I want to have a go.”

It was a good thing you made a spare because it turned out that everybody wanted to try the vampire diet.

When the glass was returned to you, it was almost empty, and you hadn’t even begun. There was a strange hunger in you that you didn’t want to risk expanding.

You took a sip and hummed at the rich flavour that exploded on your tongue only for it to dissapate fairly quickly.

You frowned, finished the drink and drank the second glass. The hunger wasn’t abated.

“Is something wrong?” Wanda asked.

“I’m.. not sure. I think so?” You said hesitantly, downing the second drink too.

“What is it, detka?” Wanda asked, placing her hand on your thigh.

You tensed as the hunger intensified, the sound of Wanda’s pulse got louder, and her scent became stronger.

Oh.

X—X—X—X—X

It had been three weeks since the party. Three weeks of avoiding Wanda Maximoff. The moment you figured out that she was the source of your hunger, you stood up and said you had to head in for the night.

You had been consuming ordered blood almost as often as humans drank water. Which is to say, nearly every other hour or so.

It came to the point that by the seventh day, Tony had spoken to the company that sourced the blood and gotten a weekly shipment of a truck full of blood.

You knew Wanda knew you were avoiding her. You weren’t subtle about it. You would use your speed to run off the moment she entered the room. It made training an embarrassing affair.

Speaking of, that was another thing you started. Physical training. While you were leagues and bounds ahead of even the super soldiers, you were simply a 26-year-old girl by vampire standards.

Since nobody currently on the team (except the Hulk) could match your speed and strength, Tony had suggested using hard-light holograms and the Iron Legion for your sparring while Natasha worked on your actual stances and form.

Meanwhile, Bruce and Tony had been gathering information about vampires from you that was necessary.

-

Sun? Manageable with sunblock. Won’t die, but you get sunburn pretty easily.

Garlic? Tasty.

Stake to the heart? Hurts like a bitch but not fatal.

Decapitation? Surprisingly, not fatal.

Thrown into the sun? Well, who wouldn’t that kill.. not vampires, but still not recommended.

Healing factor? Near instantaneous.

Holy Water? Yeah no.

Silver bullet? Hurts as much as a lead one.

Heart? Stopped beating at twenty-three.

For all intents and purposes, vampires were immortal unless facing particular magic or cursed weapons.

-

You were smiling at Natasha, who was telling you about how Bruce used some of the thicker blood in the fridge instead of ketchup and not realising it as he ate his fries. In his defence, his return from the Hulk transformation always left him in a terrible state. Since then, despite everyone’s insistence, you started keeping the blood in your brand-new room’s pantry.

You thought you were getting better at hiding. Given that Wanda was knocking on your door at 3 a.m. proved otherwise.

By the sound of the witch’s heartbeat, you could tell she was feeling some kind of intense emotion. Given your behaviour, you were pretty sure it was frustration.

You barely opened the door when Wanda stormed in and sat on your bed, wearing an oversized tee and distractingly short shorts.

“Explain,” Wanda demanded, folding her arms.

You gulped. Grabbing a bottle of sleeping cow’s blood to calm your undead nerves and stave your hunger, you sat down on the other side of the room.

“The letter-“ you began.

“Yes, yes,” Wanda said impatiently, summoning the letter in her hand. “Dear Wanda,” she began reading aloud.

“I know you must be wondering about the reason behind my absence. I know it must feel like I’m avoiding you.

That’s because I am 

The reason is that I am undergoing some vampire stuff that makes me a danger to you. I promise you, I do not feel any negative emotion towards you. I simply need to figure out a way to cope with what's going on with me. Once that is done. I promise to spend as much time as I, and hopefully you, want to with each other.

Thank you for understanding <3”

You look at her confused, “Which part of that was not un-“

“All of it,” Wanda complained.

She took a deep breath and looked at you, her expression softening.

“Sweetie, I need you to tell me if I am hurting you in some way.” She pleads.

“N-No, it’s not that..” You stammer. “Then what?” She asks, desperation lacing her tone.

“I crave you..” You said, finally breaking.

Wanda froze, “W-what?”

You sighed, using your vampire speed to sit next to her. You place your trembling hand on hers.

“I.. crave you, Wanda. Ever since the party.. My body.. it feels this.. hunger that I can't extinguish no matter how much blood I consume..”

You look at her with a helpless expression, then run your hands through your hair and stare at the ground.

“Then take it.”

Your head snaps to her, eyes wide.

“Take it.” She repeats, “Drink my blood. Cause that craving? I feel it too.”

You shake your head, “No, Wa-“

“Do you like me?” She asks, grabbing your hands and pulling you closer.

You nod, your gaze flitting to her lips and back to her stunning eyes.

“Do you want me?” She whispers, leaning infinitely closer to your face.

“More than you could fathom.” You whisper back, her face so close that you could feel her breath on your skin.

“Then take my blood, detka.

She could feel you stiffen. You let out a sigh, resting your forehead on hers. “It’s not that simple… if.. if I were to drink your blood, it would bond me to you.” You whispered, your voice cracking. “I.. I would be bonded to you forever. Animal blood wouldn’t work anymore. I would be yours for the rest of eternity.”

“How can you be sure?” She whispered.

“Because,” you said with a sad smile. “That’s how it was for my moms.”

X—X—X—X—X

“So… you ready for your first mission?” Natasha asks you, sitting beside you on the quinjet.

It had been a little over a month since the party. A few days since the confession and the decision that you and Wanda would take it slow. Very slow.

You nodded, looking at the ground through the window.

A simple mission. ‘A girls' trip’, as Natasha called it. Just you, Wanda, and Natasha. The three of you were meant to enter the Hydra base, collect information, and destroy it.

To be honest, it was more of a test for you. Since the vampire hunter hadn’t surfaced for a month, it was kept on the back burner.

You were sipping on your third bottle of blood. At this point, you didn’t care about the flavour. Wanda looked at you and gave you a sad smile, one you reciprocated.

When the quinjet began to creak as it landed, you had to cover your ears. It was when Natasha turned the Quinjet off that you were able to let out a sigh of relief.

Natasha gave you a sympathetic look, “I’ll ask Tony to make you some vampire-grade noise-cancelling headphones when we get back, okay?” She said comfortingly.

You nodded, standing up and stretching a little as you admired your ‘superhero outfit’.

Given Tony’s sense of humour, he gave you an outfit similar to Wanda’s. The difference was that it was (to Wanda’s annoyance) far less booby and completely black with blood red accents. On your sternum was a ruby red symbol of vampire fangs.

“Nice costume,” Wanda commented, appreciating how the fabric hugged your figure.

You simply blushed, giving a soft thanks and practically ran outside the quinjet.

In hindsight, it was a good thing that you were the first one out because the bullet that ripped through your abdomen would’ve proven fatal to the other two.

“OW.” You yelled, falling to your knees.

“Detka!” You heard Wanda cry out, running to you.

“FRIDAY, barricade!” You yelled as you watched the bulletproof door of the quinjet slam shut.

You stood, the bullet popping out as the wound healed itself. You barely made it another step when another one pierced your shoulder, ripping chunks of flesh as it went through you.

Growling, you used your vampire senses to find the shooter, spotting him almost immediately.

He may have been wearing white to match the snow, but you could smell him from a mile away. That and the smell of gunpowder clung to him.

You sped to him, not giving him time to react, and punched him in the face, just as Natasha had taught you.

You hadn’t, however, accounted for your vampiric strength. Eyes widening as your fist simply went through his face, splattering blood and brain on the tree behind.

The sight of his blood on your hand made you freeze. Then, the smell hit you. Your vision blurred, and your knees buckled as ravenous hunger shot through your body, your fangs pushing out.

You didn’t move when the door of the quinjet blasted open, standing unnaturally still. You didn’t move when you heard Wanda call your name, nor when she ran up to you.

“Oh.. detka, I’m so sorry.” She said as she took in the sight before her, kneeling in front of you.

“I-I killed him..” You whispered. “I didn’t mean to.”

Your eyes moved to Wanda’s sympathetic ones.

“I didn’t mean to.” You repeated, your tone more frantic. “Wanda, I swear I didn’t mean to kill him. I was just doing what Natasha- I-oh my god I’m going to be sick.”

You ripped yourself away from Wanda, standing a little ways away as you once again fell to your knees.

You heaved, nothing coming out.

“Baby.. I believe you. I promise.” Said the witch, gently caressing your back.

“I’m sorry..” You said between heaves. “The smell..”

Wand immediately knelt next to you, put a hand on your shoulder. From the corner of your eye, you saw a red bubble form around the two of you, and the scents and sounds of outside the bubble vanished.

Simultaneously, the blood and brain matter on your hand burned away, leaving you as fresh as when you stepped out.

You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to feel Wanda’s embrace, her scent, the feel of her pulse under your fingers. Your mouth watered as you inhaled deeply.

“…Detka, I need you to open your eyes,” Wanda said, her voice a lot closer than you previously heard.

When you did, you realised that Wanda was in your arms, your face was nuzzling her neck, nose millimetres from her pulse point.

You yanked yourself back, scrambling to get away. Wanda slowly approached you, her voice more reassuring than anything.

“You’re okay krasyvaya. I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong. Then or now. I could have pushed you away if I wanted.” She said gently.

You nodded, forcibly trying to retract your fangs but whining when they refused to budge.

“I know, detka. Give it time, okay?” She says gently, caressing your knuckles.

You nod again, and the two of you walk back to the quinjet where Natasha stands, waiting.

“You okay, utyónok? (Duckling)” Natasha asked, frowning as she took in your demeanour.

You nod, “I, uh.. I accidentally killed the guy who shot at us.”

“Ah, I see.” She says in understanding.

The spy approached you and gently held your hand.

“I know you don’t need to, but I want you to breathe with me and repeat what I say, okay?” She says.

You nod and mimic her breath.

“I am safe.”

“I am safe.”

“It was an accident.”

“I-It was.. an ac-accident.”

“I am okay.”

“I am okay.”

“I am loved.”

“…I.. I am loved.”

Nat smiles as the two of you finish.

“Now,” she says gently. “Would you like to stay, or are you okay to continue?”

Your eyes flit to Wanda, who simply gives you a comforting smile.

“I’d like to continue.. um.. just.. can we avoid the blood? It.. It makes me feel a little weird right now.” You say hesitantly.

The two women nod.

“Of course, utyónok,” Natasha says reassuringly.

-

Turns out, the Hydra base had been expecting the three of you. There were twice as many guards as initially intended.

The scene was a hailstorm of bullets, magic shots, punches and sirens. In the midst of it all, you ran as fast as you could, grabbing guns and weapons away from unsuspecting agents and pushing aggressors as gently as you could. Even though they still flew backwards and hit the wall, crumpling to the ground completely unconscious, they were alive.

Somehow, the three of you made it to the main room to gather intel unharmed. You and Wanda stayed near the door while Natasha accessed the mainframe.

“So, how are you finding this mission so far?” Wanda asked, eyes monitoring the corridor.

Your gaze flicked to her before returning to monitoring.

“The beginning was a little rough..”

You bumped your shoulder with hers.

“…But I’m enjoying it now.” You said with a smile.

“How’s the hunger?” She asked softly.

Your smile faded. You could feel your veins screaming at you, tightening at the lack of blood.

“Much more than before.” You admitted.

“Well, at least you’re not hungry enough to fang out.” She supplied.

You smirked, “It’ll take a lot more for me to ‘fang out’ than this level of hunger… although I’m getting a little too close to it for comfort.”

Wanda looks at you, reflecting your smirk.

“I’m considering making you fang out for completely different reasons.” She said huskily.

You snapped your head to her, the hunger in your expression nearly made the witch falter.

“If you two are done flirting, how about we get out of here?” Natasha asked right behind you, making the two of you jump.

You nodded sheepishly. Your face fell when you were about to move. Taking a sharp sniff, you began coughing.

“Trouble?” Natasha asked, taking her guns out of the holster.

“Yes. Different.. Weird.” You said, exhaling sharply from your nose so the scent doesn’t linger.

“Enhanced?” Wanda asked, summoning her magic. “Must be because I can’t sense anybody.”

You shrugged, trying not to get distracted by a magic-wielding Wanda. “I can't tell the specifics. I just know there’s a handful of.. things nearby.”

The three of you cautiously made your way out of the suspiciously empty building. Even the unconscious people were nowhere to be found. Natasha stated that whatever was waiting for them must be outside, perhaps even near the quinjet.

Given that you were more durable than the other two, you opted to open the door. The only reason Wanda was okay with it was because you agreed to her using a magic shield just in case.

When you kicked the door open, you saw three men standing there, two of whom were holding what appeared to be unusual guns.

You got into a fight position, but none of them moved. You could feel Wanda linked to your consciousness, allowing her to see what you were seeing.

The man in the centre began to move his hands, making weird symbols appear. You were confused before Wand and Natasha burst past you, pushing you out of the way.

“Detka, Watch out!” Wanda said before the symbols the man was conjuring exploded, creating a shockwave that echoed around all of you.

“No magic, Scarlet Witch.” The man sneered.

The man on the right fired thrice, shooting a weird device that attached to your neck. The man on the left holding a shotgun aimed at you, hitting you dead centre in the chest.

You collapsed on the ground in pain, writhing in pain. The collars began beeping on you and Wanda. “No more enhanced powers, mutants”, the man spat.

Natasha was fighting another man, they seemed evenly matched to the point that Natasha couldn’t fire her guns even if she wanted to.

That was when the man in the middle took out a remote and pressed a few buttons. Natasha and Wanda crumpled, and you felt electricity coursing through your body.

“Toss them into the truck.”

The bigger guy walked to you, ignoring Wanda. The witch grabbed his ankle, attempting to stop him from reaching you.

“Get off me, Mutie.” He snarled, kicked her in the face and broke her nose.

Then the smell hit you. What you had been craving for a month now. Wanda’s blood.

The feeling was unlike any you had ever experienced. Rage and hunger overcame you, but instead of clouding your vision, it sharpened it.

You stood up, glaring at the man. Your fangs announced themselves as you snarled at him.

“What the fuck are you?” He said, shocked, pulling out a remote and increasing the intensity of the electricity on your collar.

You glared at him, unflinching. Reaching for the collar, you grabbed it with one hand and pulled. The metal warped and snapped with little to no effort.

“That shouldn’t be possible.” He breathed. He turned to aim the remote at Wanda but found you standing right in front of him.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” He shrieked.

You grabbed his wrist, hard. You ignored the sound of his yells and his bones cracking under your fingertips.

“Shut up.” You growl, ignoring your fangs cutting into your lips and claw at him, ripping his head from his body.

You heard his teammates approach.

“Hey what the fuck..” Said one guy, looking at two passed-out women and a headless friend.

His eyes widen as he registers what’s going on, but it's too late. Before he could blink, you were behind him, your fist poking through his chest.

You let out another snarl as you ripped him in half. The scent of their blood no longer fazed you. 

Once you disposed of the last man, you sped your way to Natasha, who was breathing heavily, trying to move but unable to because of the collar.

You use both your hands to rip the collar off and let her gasp for breath. When she looked at you, her eyes widened.

“Utyónok (duckling).. are you..” She breathed.

“I’m okay,” you reassured, your voice tense.

She nodded, exhaling in relief.

“Natasha.. I.. I need you to free Wanda. I can’t.. her blood.” You strained, your muscles taut.

Natasha nodded, scrambling to stand. 

“Yes, of course. It’s okay. How about you go to the quinjet? I’ll bring her.” She suggested.

You speed off without a word, reaching the quinjet. You stare at your blood-soaked reflection, watching your hands. They’re perfectly still. But your head? It’s screaming.

Your hunger is pulsating, your veins constricting. After changing and wiping off the blood, you began drinking all of the blood storage in the quinjet. Including the emergency stash.

That’s when you heard FRIDAY’s voice.

Mr. Stark wishes to speak with you. May I let him through?

When you give the affirmative, you hear his voice through the speakers.

“Hey kiddo,” he says casually. “Nat just told me what happened. Wanda’s okay, the collar just knocked her out, okay?”

You feel your body sag in relief.

“Thank you, Tony..” You whisper.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. Now tell me about you, Nat said that you were hungry?”

You nodded, “Yeah, it's.. I’m craving, um, human blood. It’s..”

You cut off, another pulse of hunger.

“It’s really strong, Mr. Stark.” You whisper, gritting your teeth.

“Hey, do you remember the contingencies we kept in place for occasions like this?” He asked suddenly.

You nodded before realising he couldn’t see you. “Um.. yes, sorry.”

“Alright, so Bruce kept an emergency sedative that should keep you calm for a few hours. Once you come back, we’ll set up a quarantine for a few days, okay?”

You take out the syringe and plunge it into your chest. The effect was immediate; your hunger abated, but nowhere nearly enough.

You began to tremble, “Tony, it-it’s not working. I.. I’m still hungry..”

You hear him swear under his breath, “Fuck okay. Natasha and Wanda are almost there. Do you think you’ll be okay with Wanda in the quinjet with you?”

“I-I think so.. It’s just three hours, right?” You ask timidly.

You hear him huff out a laugh.

“I think we can do better than that, kiddo. The quinjet can go hypersonic, so you should be home in a little over an hour.”

“Okay..” You said, holding yourself still. “Thank you, Tony,” you whispered, “And I’m really sorry.”

“No need for apologies. Trust me, you’re a delight to have around.. unlike the big guy here.”

You hear some scuffling before you hear Bruce’s voice.

“Hey, kid.” He says.

You’re about to say hi, but Wanda and Natasha enter the quinjet at that moment, the witch’s scent making you freeze.

You were so focused on Wanda that you didn’t hear Bruce or Natasha calling you for almost an entire minute.

When you do snap out of it, you turn to Natasha.

“I need you to restrain me.” You tell her honestly.

Natasha blinks, nodding.

While she searched for high-strength tension cables, you saw red mist surround you, binding your hands and feet.

“Only I get to tie you up, detka”

Your head jerked to where Wanda was sitting. She looked at you with a dark gaze.

“I’m sorry for running away..” you think.

Her face softens, ”I know why you did it, baby. I understand. How can I help?”

You try to shrug, but her binds keep you in place. Despite the situation, you can’t help but feel a spark of thrill at the act. The same thrill intensified your hunger tenfold.

When your fangs made their appearance, Wanda looked at you sadly.

“Wanda..” You gritted out. “I need you to-“

“I know, detka.” She said softly, walking to you and cupping your face. “Rest now.”

You closed your eyes and passed out as the scent of vanilla took over your senses.

X—X—X—X—X

Two days. Two. Fucking. Days. You finished a month’s worth of blood in 48 hours.

Your quarantine was meant to be a day long, but with your hunger unable to be satiated, you decided to extend it.

It was late at night when you finished the supply in your room, sighing to yourself. You needed more. The only reason you risked going to the pantry in the kitchen was because everyone was out, either on a mission or at a party.

You could not have been more wrong. You took one step into the kitchen and found Tony, Natasha, Bucky, Sam, and Wanda.

Oh god.

Wanda called out to you, but it was too late; you had rushed back to your room, closed the door and went to the farthest corner of the room possible.

There was a knock on the door, the sound making you flinch. You knew who it was. Of course you did.

You didn’t need to open the door, Scarlet Magic encased it, and Wanda just walked through it.

“Wanda, you-“ you pleaded.

“Okay, sweetie. I need you to listen to me, okay?” She said, slowly taking a step further.

You nodded slowly.

She sighed in relief. “Okay, whatever is going on with you. I can no longer just sit and watch. If you need my blood, then take it. I promise you it’s okay.”

“But-“

“No buts.” Wanda insisted.

She floated to you, sitting on your lap. She let out a sharp inhale when you grabbed her waist.

“You’re my good girl, aren't you?” She asked huskily, leaning closer to your face.

You nodded, eyes flickering to her lips and back.

“Then drink.” She whispered.

You frowned, freezing when the scent of her blood hit you. She raised her hand, a cut on her palm, a few droplets of blood made their way down her wrist.

Unlike before, you barely felt your fangs protrude, eyes glued to the claret drops. You looked at her once to make sure she was certain.

She brought her palm closer to your mouth. If you weren’t drooling before, you certainly are now. You gently held her arm with shaking hands and brought your mouth closer.

“Do it,” she breathed. “Please..”

You licked the drop of blood tentatively.

The effect was immediate.

Flavour bursts on your tongue. The very essence of Wanda made its way into your system, making you practically euphoric.

You let out a moan, licking up the droplets and began sucking from the source. You heard Wanda’s breathy whimper, her pants, her pounding heart.

You looked into her eyes as you licked the wound, your body buzzing and heating up underneath hers.

Wanda was similarly affected. The sight of you tasting her blood turned her on to no end. And when your tongue touched the entrance of the wound, a shockwave of pleasure echoed through her, making her arch her back.

Wanda looked at you with hooded eyes as she felt her insides clench around nothing.

“Baby,” she panted. “I need you.. now.”

You nodded frantically, cupping her face and kissing her hard.

It was everything you dreamed it would be. Wanda’s hands went into your hair, gripping tight, making you moan.

You felt your body heat up; your core fluttered as Wanda’s blood spread through your system. You felt her begin to grind on your thigh, groaning in frustration when she wasn’t able to get enough friction.

“Clothes,” she gasped, as you kissed your way down her neck. Her head lolled back when you kissed her pulse point. “Off. Now.”

You didn’t need to be told twice; with little to no patience, you grabbed her t-shirt and pulled, easily ripping the fabric. Her jeans and underwear received the same punishment.

You gasped when you felt her core directly on your thigh. The sneaky witch had poofed your clothes away at the same time.

You grabbed her hips and began moving her back and forth against your thigh. Your core clenched when she gasped out an ‘oh fuck’.

Her hands moved to grip your shoulder as you continued kissing down her neck, across her clavicle.

“Baby.. fuck” she whimpered when you flicked your tongue against her nipple.

You sped up the movement of her hips, making her cry out and arch her back.

“Fuck,” she moaned. “That feels so good, don’t stop.”

Mindful of your fangs, you began flicking your tongue against her hard nipple. Groaning at how much of a mess the witch was making on your thigh.

“Can I go faster?” You asked affectedly.

She nodded, her head falling on your shoulder, crying out a long moan when you increased to an almost superhuman pace. With how wet she was, you didn’t need to worry about her getting hurt.

“Baby- fuck.. fuck.. I-oh my god… I-I’m close.” She panted between moans.

Your mouth began working on the other nipple as you kept up the pace, her moans increasing in pitch and frequency.

“Fuck fuck fuck Imgonnacum oh fuck baby baby” she cried out, her hands gripping your shoulder so tight they would have pierced the skin had you been human.

You stop your assault on her nipple for a moment so you can whisper in her ear, “Cum for me, Wanda.”

Wanda tenses, her mouth open in a silent moan as her orgasm crashes into her. The witch’s eyes roll back as you slow down the movement of her hips, making sure you don’t completely stop to prolong her orgasm.

She jerks forward with a gasp as she suddenly becomes oversensitive, her legs shaking with effort.

She collapses onto the bed, panting, giggling.

“You’re still hungry, aren't you?” She asked with a smirk.

You nodded wordlessly, now that you’d tasted Wanda’s blood. You knew instinctively that no other blood on the planet would do it for you.

Her expression softened as she looked at you.

“I wouldn’t want you to settle for less anyway.” She said.

You frowned for a moment before realising what had happened. The bond. You and Wanda were now linked for the rest of existence. Being an empathic witch, Wanda could turn the bond into a two-way street instead of just you being bonded to her. She tested it and gasped, suddenly able to feel your hunger. “Oh.. baby, is this how you’ve been feeling?” She asked, strained.

You nodded, leaning over her. “I need you, please.” You whispered.

Wanda grinned mischievously, “Since you’ve been such a good girl. Here’s a little gift for you.”

You frowned before arching your back at a sudden sensation in your core.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, pleasure licking up your spine.

Wanda grinned, “Look down, baby.”

When you did, your eyes widened. You were sporting a deep red, pulsating strap. One that Wanda was rubbing her slick over.

You shivered when she spread more, gasping at the way she gripped it. You could feel everything.

“Now,” Wanda said lowly. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to fuck me. You’re not going to stop fucking me until you can’t move. And everytime either you or I cum? You’re going to feed from me. You’re not going to worry because I can use my powers to replenish as much blood as I need, okay?”

You nod.

“Any questions?” She asks.

“I.. uh.. I’ve never actually.. done this. I don’t know if I’ll be any good.” You said softly.

Wanda cupped your face with one hand, smiling as you nuzzled into it.

“My sweet girl, you just rocked my world two minutes ago. By pure instinct. All I’m asking is for you to do it again and again. There’s no getting it wrong, okay? We’ll take it slow, and if one of us doesn’t like something, we’ll just change it, okay?”

You nod, determined to make her feel good. When she nodded in return, you slowly pushed the head of the strap into her. Both of you inhale sharply at the feeling of you filling her up.

“You’re so tight. Fuck, it feels so good.” You said, screwing your eyes shut and trying not to cum immediately.

Wanda doesn’t respond; she was experiencing something similar. It had been a while since anything felt this good.

You almost collapse on top of her when you’re all the way in. You and Wanda stare at each other with wide eyes, neither of you moving an inch. The sheer proximity, her breath against yours, her moulding to yours. All of it felt so.. right.

Slowly, much too slowly for Wanda’s liking, you began to move. Your hands were framing her head, fingers already pierced the pillow as you held in your desire.

“Detka, move.” She said.

That was all it took; you snapped your hips, shoving the entire length into her suddenly, making her arch her back and cry out.

You rolled your hips, faster and faster, harder and harder. The bed creaked at the sheer force.

Wanda had given up all pretence of composure; her mouth was agape as moans flowed freely. Her nails dug into your back as you leaned closer to her, your fangs practically throbbing as much as your insides were.

You were one big nerve ending; every single movement sent molten pleasure through your body. You knew at the back of your mind that this was the result of Wanda’s pleasure echoing through the partial bond. You needed more of her blood. From the source.

Your speed intensified, as did her moans. The way she clenched around you told you that she was close, with the way your pleasure was building to an overwhelming degree, you weren’t far behind.

“Fuck. Fuck. Baby, I’m going to come. Feed from me. Now.”

She exposed her neck, shutting her eyes tight as the pleasure crescendoed. Unable to hold yourself back, you clamped down on her neck as soon as you came.

The two of you shattered the boundaries of time and space as you came. Wanda was sent hurtling through an orgasm so intense she lost her grip on reality. Then you sucked, the simple act of you sucking her blood made her cum again, making the witch scream.

This continued for a while, each time you sucked in more blood, your fangs released more venom, and each time, Wanda came harder than she ever had before. Her screams turned into hoarse groans until she lost her voice, and all she could do was tremble limply as another wave of pleasure took over her frayed senses.

When you withdrew your fangs, they retreated automatically. You rest your head against Wanda’s chest, freezing when you notice how shallow her breathing is.

You looked up frantically to see Wanda’s glossy eyes as she stared off into nothing. Her skin was scarily pale.

“Wanda?” You whispered, panicking. “Baby, please.”

Remembering the one time your mothers had briefly told you about vampire blood, you summoned your fangs and cut into your wrist.

You placed the cut above her mouth and watched the blood drip into her mouth. You jolted when Wanda clenched around the length of your strap inside her.

She grabbed your wrist and sucked blood, moaning as she drank more. You sighed as a hazy pleasure took over you, and the bond between you two strengthened as it began to naturally flow both ways without Wanda’s magic.

The colour in Wanda’s skin returned, and she let go of your wrist, and you two stared at each other.

“I.. I feel it.” She whispered.

You nodded, “I wasn’t sure, but I remember my moms had mentioned something about a two-way bond.”

Her eyes glistened with the weight of her emotions. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

You nodded with a smile, “You’re mine just as much as I am yours.. for the rest of eternity. Once your mortal body dies, you’ll emerge as a vampire.”

Wanda gulped at the sheer intensity of love she felt for you, grabbing your face and kissing you hard.

The movement made you shift deeper inside her, making you both moan in surprise.

You two stared at each other and grinned.

“Wanna-“

“Absolutely.”

You two began kissing again as you flipped her over and she rode you with fervour.

-

Tony sighed, checking his watch.

“It’s been almost two weeks..” He muttered incredulously. “They’ve been at it for two weeks.”

Natasha smirked as another loud crash sounded on the floor above them.

“I’m telling you, Tony…

Vampires be fucking.” X—X—X—X—X

“Oh? Are you annoyed princess? Did I take too long?” You laughed jumping through the window and taking you jacket off flopping down onto the bed “I’m exhausted, he didn’t put up much of a fight and it went pretty smoothly, one shot to the heart, died instantly, are you happy?”

Wanda didn’t speak in fact you couldn’t even hear her anymore, you opened your eyes and sat up seeing the source of your incoming headache “why hello Natalia, why are you here? And why do you look as angry as ever?”

The woman sighed “Y/n we talked about this, I told you to stay away from Wanda”

You shrugged “yeah but you didn’t say for how long, how was I supposed to know it meant longer than 2 days?” You tried hiding your smirk but it definitely wasn’t working

“Okay my mistake I thought you had common sense but I see now that’s definitely not the case so I’ll move on, why did you kill a man?”

“Why wouldn’t you kill a man? They’re annoying and smell odd”

You heard a giggle from the other side of the room “that was funny Y/n I like it”

“Thanks Yel I knew you’d appreciate that”

Natasha stood from her seat and walked towards Wanda brandishing a knife to her throat, she’d make you take things a lot more seriously even if it was harsh

“Hey no! You pulled your gun from your waistband forcing it against the back of Nat’s head “don’t you dare Natalia, remove the knife” when she didn’t you pressed harder “I mean it!”

The woman laughed “you were given a job to kill her, a job that involves mental and physical torture too, and yet you’re here threatening me, the woman you’ve known since birth, but sure let’s protect the target”

Wanda was trembling, the knife was close enough to start cutting into her neck if she breathed a little too much “she’s not a target Natalia, step down now”

Wanda’s eyes met Natasha’s fiery ones and she sighed letting the knife down and moving out of the way for you to run to Wanda holding her tight until her breathing calmed “it’s okay detka I’ve got you I promise you’re okay”

Wanda closed her eyes just trying to calm herself down while you held her, how could an assassin be so sweet?

“We’ll see you at home Y/n, the doors will be locked until tomorrow and I’ll be at Maria’s for the night”

Nat dragged a reluctant Yelena out of the room leaving you and Wanda alone

After a few moments Wanda gently pushed you away and sat on her bed “Wanda?” You tried stepping close

“Stay there” Wanda snapped and you listened, standing back waiting for another instruction “tell me who put the hit out on me, tell me who did it then-then you can stay with me for the night but then never see me again, you’ve caused me so much stress these last few weeks and it needs to end”

You opened and closed your mouth unsure on what to say but finally coming up with something “if I tell you I want something in return”

Wanda nodded “go on”

“I want to have you for the night, if it’s truly the last night I’ll see you then I want to see you and hold you and touch you in the way I’ve always wanted” you’d sat down next to Wanda and rested your hand on her thigh “let me have that Wanda”

Wanda didn’t say anything as she looked up to your lips and kissed you, the kiss soon turning heavy with your hands in Wanda’s hair and Wanda climbing onto your lap legs on either side of your own

“ty takaya krasivaya, lyubov' Moyà” you said breathlessly moving your hands to take Wandas shirt off revealing her gorgeous lace red bra “are you going to just keep talking or are you going to fuck me like you want to”

You didn’t responded just moved Wanda from your lap reluctantly and stood up to remove your clothes

When the glass shattered behind you Wanda jumped seeing blood seep through your clothes “Y/n?”

You looked at Wanda then down at your side “get-get under the bed” you whispered

“What?” Wanda asked “get under the bed!” You screamed holding onto your side and reaching for you gurn turning to the window hiding under the window sill “if this is Natasha doing this I’m going to be royally pissed off” you glanced at bed seeing Wanda under it and her face full of concern

“I’m fine Wanda I’ve been shot before doesn’t hurt after a while just a dull ache” you were clutching your side trying to hide the clear pain written all over your face “Wanda can you see the shooter from your view? Tell me when they’re reloading”

She nodded watching the window and after the last shot they were reloading “they’ve stopped”

You leapt up leaning on the window aiming your gun to the figure and shooting off a few shots hitting them in the shoulder and chest, you fell down onto the ground and Wanda crawled over to you “Wanda no stay there I’m fine” you whispered trying to shoo her back under the bed

“They’ve gone down Y/n it’s fine you got them”

“Damn right I did…I’m a great assassin” you tried laughing but the bullet didn’t let you “fuck me that hurts”

Wanda laid your head in her lap and cradled you “I’ll call Yelena from your phone okay? But please stay here and don’t move much okay?”

You nodded letting the sleep engulf you “sleepy time then” closing your eyes you felt a heavy throb take over your head and you thought you couldn’t feel any worse and yet here it was, hopefully it will ebb away.

********************************************************

“Y/n? Y/n?! Wake up I can’t keep living with Nat on my own, she doesn’t take me for Taco Bell like you do” Your eyes fluttered open just as a harsh slap was given to you forcing you up

“Yelena what the fuck?! Why did you slap me??” You rubbed at your face and went to get up but a hand pushed you down, Wanda

“Did you see her slap me?”

Wanda giggled “yes pretty sad for you”

You groaned “god that’s embarrassing, anyway why can’t I get up?”

Yelena rolled her eyes standing up “you were shot dipshit, literally 2 hours ago, anyway the bullet is out of you, I’ve cleaned the area and numbed the area so you should be fine for 3 more hours, now come on, you and Wanda need to go to the safe house”

“A safe house? Why do I have to go?”

Yelena sighed “Wanda you’ve just been shot at, and I’m damn sure they were aiming for you, a good thing really Y/n seemed to be stood in front of you, as I think of it, why was she stood in front of you?”

You managed to stand to your feet with Wanda’s help stretching a little to loosen your limbs “we were talking and she was sat on the bed and I was stood clearly”

Yelena looked between yourself and Wanda “I see, but when I appeared and saw you on the floor, of course I was scared but Wanda just had her jeans on and a red lacy bra, and she looked disheveled, as though she had been made out with sexually”

Your smugness shone through and you couldn’t hold it in “it would’ve been more sexually but I got shot, total cockblock”

Wanda slapped you on the arm dropping you and going to pack a bag since she had to relocate due to a crazy shooter “let’s just go, since I have too move my entire life it seems”

Yelena nodded and left the room to start the car leaving you two alone “Wanda?” You asked and she looked at you “what?”

“I’m sorry about this-

Wanda held her hand up “no don’t start Y/n I’m so confused, you ask me for sex after I say you need to leave me alone after tomorrow, I agree then all of a sudden you got shot, very suspicious isn’t it” she snapped

You were shocked, what a fucking switch up and it did kinda piss you off “you think I planned this? I planned a shooting, are you dense?”

Wanda slammed the drawers closed “you know what? You’ve messed up my life for weeks! Stalked me, flirted with me, pretty much harass me every time you see me I’m sick of it!”

“Come off it Maximoff you love it! You don’t push me away, haven’t reported me to the police and always leave the door open for me, it’s your own fault!” You gritted your teeth feeling the numbing cream wearing off and the sharp pain coming back

Wanda just shook her head taking her bag and leaving the room “just leave me alone when I’m at the safe house!”

“No” she stopped at the door looking back at you “what?”

“No I won’t leave you alone, for now maybe until we both calm down but not forever, you’re mine, you belong to me and I’ll be damned if I’m letting you go” you had moved towards a surprised Wanda and clutched Wanda’s shirt in your palm “you’re forgetting who I am and what I do, do you want to know who wants you dead?”

She managed a small nod and you just laughed leaning in close to her ear “no one, no one wants you dead Wanda, no one thinks you’re that important to spend money on, even to kill, so you were right I did plan it, crazy right?”

Wanda shook her head “but the shooter…you’ve been shot-you’re lying! You made me believe someone was after me! And then made me think I was crazy for suggesting the shooter thing!”

You kissed Wanda’s neck and breathed her in, it sounded cliche but you loved it when they were scared “you are crazy Wanda, now get to the safe house before I drag you there myself”

Wanda’s voice quivered “bu-but if there’s no one after me why do I need to go?”

You pulled away and let go out of her shirt not looking her in the eyes “because now you’ve pissed me off Wanda, that safe house is to keep you safe from me now, until I calm down you need to stay there and wait for me, like a good girl”

You left the room ignoring Wanda’s quiet sob and marched past a surprised Yelena “oh what’s going on?”

You stopped “take her to the safe house don’t say a damn word to her until I get back”

“When will you be back?”

You shrugged “I’m going to stay with Nat and Maria it’ll be a few days, make sure she eats and drinks just don’t say anything to her” you stormed off leaving a still surprised Yelena

It was a common occurrence to see you at Wanda’s rehearsals and photoshoots, and today was no different. You had come to the studio to shower your girlfriend in love, affection, and a croissant, but then you had seen her in that lacy, lacy lingerie, and then, and then— 

“Fuck,” you growl, gripping fistfuls of Wanda’s pretty hair as she squeals and backs her ass into your crotch. She’s porcelain, fine china, and you have your tendencies.

Wanda would swear she tried to keep you off her, especially in this sponsored lingerie, because it was a brand deal, and she was supposed to be good. 

But you were not good. And she liked you that way.

It was a Sisyphean task, considering just how handsy you were, completely disregarding the cameras and flashing lights when you had your eyes set on your girlfriend. 

There was a moment’s silence when she locked eyes with you across the room, one behind the camera and one in front, and Wanda had to fight battles to not let start drenching the carpeted floor.

Your gaze was hot, molten, searing across her bare skin wrapped up in lace, and Wanda was a pool of gasoline that fed your will. She whimpered quietly, so quietly, when you licked your lips imperceptibly. She wanted it.

No longer had the photoshoot been paused for lunch break did she follow your retreating figure into the emptied changing room, heart pounding and already damp between her legs. It was no secret, then, what had ensued behind closed doors and cameras.

Wanda watched herself in the mirror through lowered lashes. She was being fucked within an inch of her life, bent over and manhandled. 

Her mascara was messed up, stained, and the rest of her face was no farther from saving. There were tears pooling in her eyes, from how deliciously rough you were being, and her hair was already a tousled mess, all credits to your insistent tugging.

“I know, bunny, they’re gonna be back soon, hm?” you tease, voice dripping in caramel and honey. Feels like it, too, with three thick fingers drenched in your girlfriend’s slick, pummeling into that tight little cunt like it was meant to be.

Her hair bows are all undone, strewn across the floor. Wanda looks like the fashion of a tainted angel, crafted by your doing. Her panties are undone by the laces and hanging off the side of the counter.

There was just such power you derived, from having the infamous Wanda Maximoff completely bent over in submission, subservient to your command. You just had control over her, had her wrapped around your finger, and in turn you were obsessed to her pretty self.

“Gonna be so good for me, yes bunny?” you pant into her ear, groping at her hefty tits through the lingerie. She’s so effortlessly babygirl, all wide eyes and pink lips, shy giggles in your ear when you tease her.

When Wanda fails to answer you in due time, you snap the thigh highs against her thick thighs, and the high-pitched squeal she lets out is worth it enough.

“Y-yes!” she cries out, jumping from where you snap the material. “Be good for you, promise.”

You rumble your acquiescence, looking at her reflection through the mirror. It’s immaculate all the same, glossy eyes and glossier lips. “Good girl,” you murmur into her ear, pressed hot and tight against her ass.

Wanda moans lowly at that, arching her back when your palm meets her ass once more. It’s already a handprint-red, and you didn’t want to think what her managers would say during the photoshoot that would continue later.

They should know who she belonged to.

“Fuckin’ princess,” you breathe, trailing open-mouthed kisses across her pretty back. Her lingerie is simply the prettiest thing you’d ever set your eyes on, hugging her figure like it was meant to be. 

At that, you curl your fingers roughly, and the near-scream Wanda lets out is sure to be heard by someone from outside. She comes suddenly, jet streams and white bursts, squirting all over your hand and dripping down your wrist. 

She whimpers at the sheer impact of her high, bright doe eyes catching yours. “Bunny,” you grunt, ramming your fingers into her pussy, not letting up for a second. 

“Give me another. Your cute cunt’s good for that, right? Coming for me?”

Upon listening to you, Wanda whines again, blonde locks getting tugged on by your impatient hand. Her eyes are watery, so pretty and angelic, and you a carnal urge washes over you to just take what you want—

WIth rough movements, you drag her by the hips and spin her around, setting her onto the counter with her thighs wrapping around your torso. This way, your mouths meet in an inferno of heat and lust, your prodding tongue intruding into her mouth greedily.

Wanda’s dragged out moan of your name gets lost in the squelching sounds of your fingers spreading her pussy open. You’re even rougher than before, if that’s possible, and it almost seems like she’s going to be torn within life and death if you go on further.

The second high comes in short bursts: Wanda writhes in your arms, all hiccups and tears, clutching the lapels of your suit jacket with your overstimulated she is, all your fault, all your fault.

“Y/N, please, please, please—” Wanda gasps, pleading your name in a mindless chant, flooding your hand. At this point, you’re pretty sure she’s dripping onto the fucking floor.

She comes and she comes and she keeps on coming, your hands all over her lingerie-hugged body, your mouth whispering sweet nothings into her ear, elevating her to a redeemed paradise.

That night, in the confines of your shared penthouse, sprawled over a King-sized bed with silk sheets, Wanda pays her due. She keeps you up all night — just like espresso.

reblog to support me n my lil writings

hope yall liked this little blurb, i was cooking a long fic but then i was tired so here you go

MAIN MASTERLIST

You feel the warmth of your family's chatter enveloping you as you sit at the dinner table, the clinking of cutlery against plates creating a comforting rhythm. It's a typical family gathering, full of laughter and familiar faces. Your girlfriend Wanda, who your family knows well and has grown to love, sits beside you, her presence a grounding comfort.

As the conversation flows, you find yourself sinking into a cozy, relaxed state, lulled by the background noise and the comforting presence of Wanda. The world around you begins to blur slightly, your mind slipping into a subspace without you realizing it. Wanda's gentle touch on your hand anchors you further, a soft smile on her lips as she engages with your family.

In this serene haze, you lean closer to Wanda, her warmth and scent filling your senses. You feel safe, protected, and deeply loved. Without thinking, you murmur softly, "Mommy, can you pass the salt?"

Your face flushes as you realize what just slipped out of your mouth. The sound of silverware clinking against plates and the murmur of conversations come to a sudden halt. You look around the table, seeing wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Your mother’s gaze locks onto you, sharp and unforgiving.

"What was that?" she demands, her tone harsh and filled with a mix of confusion and anger.

You stammer, desperately searching for the right words. "I… it was a mistake. I didn't mean to…"

Wanda, sitting next to you, gently places her hand on yours under the table, a subtle gesture of support. You feel a mix of gratitude and mortification.

Your mother’s eyes narrow. "A mistake? That didn't sound like a mistake."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Mom, I’m sorry. It just slipped out. It’s... it's a private thing between Wanda and me."

The tension in the room is thick. Your family members look between you, Wanda, and your mother, uncertain of what to do or say. Your mother takes a deep breath, clearly trying to maintain her composure.

"We'll talk about this later," she says, her voice cold but more controlled. She turns back to her plate, signaling the end of the conversation for now, but you know this isn't over.

You squeeze Wanda's hand, silently thanking her for being there. The rest of the dinner feels like it drags on forever, each minute filled with the weight of what just happened.

As dinner finally concludes, you feel a mix of dread and inevitability wash over you. Your mother, still fuming, stands up and motions for you to follow her. The walk to your childhood bedroom is painfully familiar, yet today it feels more like a walk to the gallows. Each step echoes with the weight of what's to come.

Once inside the room, she closes the door firmly behind you. The familiar surroundings of your childhood—posters, trophies, and old books—do nothing to comfort you. If anything, they heighten your anxiety, reminding you of a time when things were simpler and less complicated.

Your mother turns to face you, her eyes blazing with anger. "What on earth were you thinking, calling Wanda that at the dinner table?" she snaps. "Do you have any idea how inappropriate that was? In front of the entire family?"

You swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts. "Mom, it was an accident. I didn't mean for it to happen. It just slipped out."

She shakes her head, disbelief etched across her features. "An accident? That was more than just a slip of the tongue. It was embarrassing for you, for me, and for everyone else there. How do you think your father felt hearing that? Or your grandparents?"

You feel a lump forming in your throat, the sting of her words hitting hard. "I’m sorry, Mom. I really am. It wasn’t intentional. It’s just... something private between Wanda and me."

"Private?" she scoffs. "There’s a time and a place for everything, and that was definitely not it. You need to understand the impact of your actions. What if people start talking? What if this gets out beyond the family?"

You wince at the thought. "I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful."

Your mother takes a deep breath, her anger slowly giving way to a look of disappointment. "I just expected better from you. I thought I raised you to know better than to do something like this. What happened to you?"

Her words cut deep, and you can feel tears welling up. "Mom, I’m still the same person. I just made a mistake. Please understand."

She sighs, rubbing her temples. "We’ll talk more about this another time. I need to cool down. Just... think about what you've done and how you’re going to fix it."

As she leaves the room, you collapse onto your old bed, the weight of the confrontation settling heavily on your shoulders. Wanda's presence downstairs is a small comfort, but right now, you feel utterly alone in this moment of reckoning.

Laying on your old bed, feeling the echoes of childhood and the sting of your mother's words, you hear a soft knock on the door. Wanda enters, a reassuring presence amid the storm. She carries both your coats, signaling her readiness to leave if you need to, but instead of urging you out the door, she sits beside you and begins to gently rub your back.

"You don't owe them anything, Detka," she whispers, her voice a soothing balm. "Look at me, sweet girl."

You turn to her, as you always do, feeling the comfort of her gaze. You’ve always been so good for Wanda, and her steady presence is a lifeline right now. She takes your hand in hers, her touch grounding you.

"It was an accident," she continues, her tone firm yet loving. "You got a bit overwhelmed and slipped, and it's okay. While you talked with your mom, I smoothed things over with everyone else. I told them about a time when I asked you not to do something and you replied with, 'okay, mom,' and since then, there have been moments where we joke and you say something like that to me."

Tears prick at your eyes, welling up at the corners as you look at Wanda, overwhelmed by her kindness and her instinct to protect you. Her unwavering support wraps around you like a comforting blanket, making the harshness of your mother’s words fade into the background.

"You did that for me?" you whisper, voice thick with emotion.

Wanda nods, her eyes soft and understanding. "Of course I did. I always will. We’ll get through this together, alright?"

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude. Leaning into her, you let the tears fall, knowing she’s there to catch you. She holds you close, her hand continuing its soothing motion on your back.

"Let’s get out of here for a bit," Wanda suggests gently. "We can take a walk, get some fresh air. You need a break from all this."

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight lift slightly. "Okay," you agree, your voice small but steadier now.

——

A disgruntled sigh left your lips and brushed over her chuckling face, Natasha playfully tossed your book aside. You could glare for only a second before you were staring in awe at the angel above you. The sun casted an incandescent glow around her auburn hair, bright enough for you to see the softly smiling redhead with a heart filled with chocolate covered strawberries.

It was the sweetest thing you'd ever seen, her eyes sparkled and her lips upturned gently as she shook it, then she paused and your eyes locked with intensity.

The both of you stared for a few seconds, silently retracing the other's features before you abruptly took the container from her and lifted it onto the blanket behind you just to reach for the lapels of her jet black leather jacket, buckling her elbows with a rough tug.

Her giggled breath brushed over your cheek as your huff trailed down her neck bringing on goosebumps. It fell silent for a moment before you nudged her cheek with yours and she pulled back with an adoring smile. Your face soon mirrored hers until she shook her head.

"But—." Natasha shook her head again then moved on.

Next thing you know she is leaning over you, the swell of her silky chest felt on both of your cheeks and you decided to tease her back as you playfully blew a raspberry against her skin while shaking your head.

Natasha snorted in surprise, "seriously detka?"

"What, we were merely becoming reacquainted," you deadpanned only to shake with laughter when her face returned to above yours with a feigned offense etched into her scowl. "I'm trying to be romantic; asshole!"

"Oh," you clutched your chest and gasped, "my heart is beating rapidly in my chest, the pet-name you have bestowed upon me inspires butterflies, Natasha, my—."

Natasha grunted then suddenly you were choking on the tart juice of the chocolate covered strawberry your full time best friend and (only) part time lover bought for you, apparently. The deflective teasing was pissing her off, a blurred flash of green crossed over your vision, you gasped a full breath in only to lose your air again when her tongue and lips collided with yours.

For a few short moments she kissed you dumb, not long enough for the tension to be unbearable, but felt.

Then she was pulling back with an accomplished smirk and you were once again glaring at her for stopping, but then you were frowning as you felt your heart skip in a way that was not foreign to you, just kept secret.

Tired eyes stared into yours and you decided to take a chance, because you felt at ease with your gazes locked and that had never happened for you before. Where a person can just calm you with reassuring presence. It was clear that she was expecting you to speak, a very hopeful twinkle in her eyes that beamed with comfort.

Natasha watched you gulp with a repressed smirk on her face that softened into a reminiscent smile as she pictured your last moment together, before she was called away on a mission that extended beyond the original date. Natasha wanted to be back in time to ask you out for Valentine's Day, she was done waiting for you to make the first move, but alas she missed it.

She left only a few days before New Year's, where she knew, through potential spying, that you planned to kiss her when the clock struck midnight, in front of all of your close friends to finally solidify the relationship after a full year of secret nights spent together.

Natasha was tired of running from the truth, she loved you and she hated that when you were finally ready to take that leap she had to sully your confidence and go.

"I want more," you blurted out breathily, tone soft but message firm as your eyes held hers for longer than the usual few seconds you could manage. "This has to be more than a secret we keep from our family, Tasha."

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully, as if she wasn't the first of you two to think this. With her face hovering yours as she propped herself up on one elbow so that she could cup your cheek with her free hand she leaned in to kiss you tenderly and whispered the truth, "It is. Do you think I make these hearts for just anyone?"

You giggled softly, "I'd hope not, am I the other wo—?"

"Shut up," she groaned in faux annoyance, pushing your chuckling face into the blanket and only smiling herself when your eyes closed due to the overwhelm of your laughter. "Don't ever worry Y/N, it's just you."

"I love you," you were overjoyed and couldn't hold back anymore, Natasha felt her heart pounding in her chest as she heard the words in a new light, and you merely offered her panicked gaze a smile that bled with nothing more than pure understanding and warmth.

This time, as her lips crashed into yours, there was a different understanding, the casual energy that once served to preserve a friendship dissipated and was replaced with the love you both wanted to express.

After an entire hour, intermittently spent making out, only to be broken up by one of you giggling joyfully, you could sense that Natasha was growing tired. The redhead protested when you refused to meet her lips in another passionate lip lock, she huffed and tried again.

"Detka," she whined pitifully, "I haven't been home for so long, are you seriously already tired of kissing me?"

"No, I should honestly jump your bones," you softly humored the woman, but before she could grow too excited for deeper intimacy, you pressed on, "I am however aware that you haven't been sleeping much, and I for one would like to finish the book you got me ages ago so I'd appreciate it if you'd just lay on my chest so that we both can finally find a bit of peace."

There was resistance in her exhausted eyes, there always was when she weighed out her options. To her it would be a huge task to give into your mothering, to allow you the space to make decisions for her, but the longer she thought it over the less resistance she felt.

A yawn soon left her swollen lips after a few moments of contemplation and she softly agreed, placing a few kisses to any bare skin she could find to show her brimming gratitude and love—a once foreign concept.

Where trepidation once controlled her she felt ease, a heart that had only ever been broken on the mend and she only had you to thank, with your easy smile and comforting touch; she melted into you, her comfort.

A soft snore left your lovers lips and only then did you lift your book, using the hand that was just rubbing the redheads back beneath her shirt to do so. There was only ten pages left when she tore it from your grasp and so it wasn't hard to pick back up where you left off.

"Oh my god," you quietly gasped, a little smile on your face and a tear in your eye as you finished the sentence. The entire book was a whirlwind romance between the best of friends, much like yours, but in the last chapter the happiness imploded as one revealed their feelings.

A pang of relief flooded your heart as you put the book down and managed to pull Natasha even closer so that you could kiss her forehead then simply appreciate her.  The odds were stacked high against your love with your shared careers and both of your pasts haunting you to this day, yet you both somehow overcame the odds.

It was a learning curve, learning to accept the love of another and the alarming codependency that followed.

Somewhere along the way, in the moments where you were apart you began to ache for her, your focus being lost on whatever continent she was on. You couldn't even complete the simplest of tasks, such as reading.

Natasha was more worried about her ability to sleep, she's always had insomnia and been a light sleeper, but she got used to the REM that came alongside you. It actually alarmed her the first night she slept through, the only environment change being your body by hers.

Natasha might've even avoided you for a week after...

Now, the both of you embrace the intimate reality of your situation, and unlike the characters in your saga there was no need for a cliffhanger, so here you lay with the love of your life asleep on your chest, a long sigh leaving your lips as you lift the sequel to the sky.