Wanda will stroke your or Natasha's hair if either of you wake up from a nightmare and sing you back to sleep.

Natasha is either the softest person on earth or the most emotionally constipated person on earth. No in between. When you or Wanda wakes up from a nightmare, you either get soft cuddles until morning, if not longer, or a gruff "You want to go train?" There's care behind both, of course. She just doesn't always know how to show it.

If you have sensory issues/sensitivities, both of them immediately learn every one of them. They will fight anyone if they don't accommodate you. Unfortunately, that also includes each other if one of them forgets.

maybe i’m a mean partner but can you slap them? make them take something too big? degrade them?

she does that a lot, inspecting you.

i’m sorry if you’ve done this before i just LOVE smut involving phones

mmh yess i love this. she walks into the room whilst your on the phone and can hear your dad’s voice flowing through the speaker as you converse about how college is going and so on. she sneaks up to where you’re sitting and puts her finger over her mouth to signal that you should shut up. you quizzically tilt your head, giving her a look of confusion but go back to talking with him. then she hovers over you - her hand snakes down to your skirt and she pulls your panties to the side, making you gasp, which earns you a slap on the thigh.

her fingers circle over your clit and you try your hardest not to make a sound, muffling the speaker when you let out a little squeal as she rubs harder. “mm—yes d-daddy, i made loads of f-friends.”

your back arches off of your desk chair and you dig your nails into the hard plastic, holding your phone out in an attempt to quiet all the dirty noises your making. but of course, she grabs it and brings it closer to your mouth, quietly whispering into your ear. “keep talking, bunny.”

she eventually sticks her middle finger in your leaking pussy, curling it and pounding into you with no mercy. this time you let out a filthy, high pitched whimper, prompting your dad to ask about what is going on.

“n-nothing,” you reply, unbelievably, as wanda’s free hand pulls your shirt up and pinches your sensitive nipples. she grins at your persistent effort to remain calm, knowing that it’s no use because her other finger slides into you, making your walls clench around her and another wrangled noise erupt from your throat.

your eyes close and you struggle to keep the phone in your hand as your head becomes a fuzzy mess. “m-mommy,” you cry, and she just places the speaker closer to your mouth.

“what was that, darling? is mom there?” your dad asks, making your eyes blink open and a shot of fear flow through you. you grab at her hands, silently pleading with her to stop but she continues, kissing all along your jawline in the process.

“n-no…mommy—she’s not here.” you quickly save yourself, telling him that you were going to ask him about how their anniversary dinner went the previous week. wanda curls her fingers deeper into your dripping hole, watching with a satisfied expression as you try to keep up with the conversation - strained little rasps coming out of your throat that you try to hide with your hand.

and again, she slaps it away. “don’t test me, little girl,” she silently mouths, her lips pursing in a way that makes your tummy churn. but you just don’t think you can take it anymore - you can barely answer your poor father, who’s left wondering if your having a medical emergency of some sort.

“i-im fine, dad. j—just tired,” your voice cracks as you helplessly rock your hips down against her fingers, your body surrendering before your mind.

wanda starts mouthing at your boobs, taking your right nipple in between her teeth and biting softly. your head tips back against the backrest of your chair and the wheels jitter against the floor when your legs squirm. you can barely even make out what your dad is saying at this point - just a blur of random words drifting off into space.

“pumpkin?” he mutters, and you can’t even speak. your finger hovers over the end call button but you can see wanda’s side eye in the peripheral of your blurred vision, letting you know that it’ll be a big mistake.

you’re so fucking close that all it will take is one more press against your cervix before your coming and wailing down the phone. “p-please,” you whisper loudly, giving wanda the best puppy eyes you can manage, but all it does is turn her on even more.

she pulls out for a second, licking at her slick covered fingers. you think it’s all over - you pant heavily, trying to catch your breath, and just as you can manage another sentence she pounds her fingers back into you roughly. this time you moan so loudly that anyone who doesn’t have a head full of rocks would know what’s going on.

“y/n, what are you doing?” your dad’s voice sounds harsh now, and he waits for your answer, though it never comes because all the energy you have left in you is spent on trying not to escalate the situation further - trying to be good for your mommy, but trying not to make your dad any more suspicious than he already is.

“c-can’t,” you murmur, to who? you’re not sure, maybe both of them. wanda’s fingers dig deeper and deeper and you gasp for breath as you come close to the edge. she has you right there, one second away, watching as you pathetically whine and tug at her sleeves. “please…”

she finally gives you grace, pressing her thumb against the red button before you lose all control and your walls contract around her fingers. you let it all out when you see the blank screen of your phone, crying out into the air like you haven’t made a noise in days.

wanda brings her fingers to your lips and forces you taste yourself. you cling to her hand, your tongue stroking up and down her wet skin as she strokes your hair, gazing down at you with a look of almost disappointment while you lick her fingers clean.

i've never understood why people reduce it to that.

to me, it's so much more.

it's the way you make your woman feel before any clothes come off. it's the way you speak to her. the way you look at her. the way you make her feel safe enough to let every wall fall down. it's the way you touch her mind before you ever expect to touch her body.

sex starts way before the bed.

it starts in the conversations you have. in the way you flirt with her mind. in the way you make her soft in the right ways. in the way you make her feel seen. in the way your voice changes when you talk to her. in the way you remember the smallest things about her. in the way you touch her without even touching her.

because when a woman feels completely safe with you, her whole body knows it.

and i think that's fucking beautiful.

i don't think the most important part of making love is what your hands are doing. or what toys you have. or the length of your strap.

i think it's whether you've touched her soul first.

because if her soul feels safe with you, her body will follow.

mean, emo wanda who’s your daddy.

you’re her favorite fuck, but there’s nothing more to your relationship than that.

she fucks, she leaves and then comes back whenever she pleases.

you’ve tried to get to know her, tried to peel back the layers of the mysterious wanda maximoff who had you wrapped around her finger. all you knew about her was that she was cold, stubborn, good in bed and had the sexiest accent you’d ever heard in your life.

every time she fucked you, she unraveled every ounce of dignity you had. not that it was much whenever she was around.

your hips were always left littered with bruises the size of her fingertips, bite marks and hickey’s coloring different places along your body that made you squirm when she paid special attention to them.

she never apologizes, never lets up when you’re begging her to stop.

and there’s no escape.

you tried putting your foot down once. started locking your apartment door every night, stopped frequenting the places she knew she could find you.

she didn’t take it well.

one day when you came home, you found her already in your apartment. you were frozen in place. you didn’t know how she got in.

all it took was one look from across the room and she knew she had you under her thumb.

she wasn’t gentle when she reminded you who you belong to.

“i don’t care if you want this to end. this cunt is mine, and i’ll come and go as i please.”

the tip of her silicone cock had been slamming against your cervix over and over until you knew you would be sore for days. even as you were sobbing, barely able to hold yourself up as she took you from behind, she didn’t let up.

she fucked you with her cock and her fingers, saving her tongue for last because it was her favorite when you passed out with her face between your legs.

her scarlet magic kept your wrists pinned above your head as she ate you out. you hardly had tears left to cry, your voice hoarse and weak from the sobbing and shouting.

she made you cum another three times with her tongue. on the third, you passed out. your vision going black and your body fully surrendering to the overstimulation.

she had lingered there for a few minutes, only to take photos of your marked up, unconscious body, and then she slipped out before you could wake up.

when you woke up, you were forced to remember the same truth.

“Good girl” she’s getting it

“You’re mine honey” she’s getting it

“Fuck you’re perfect” she’s getting it

“You’re making mommy so wet” she’s getting it

“I can’t stop” she’s getting it

*sent a video* she’s getting it

“Needy little slut” she’s getting it

“Take it and shut your mouth” she’s getting it

“You’re pathetic” she’s getting it

“I love you” she’s getting it