a casual fic reader

with Gojo, @hecathea 🤪

Natasha Romanoff had never been a woman who sought out crowds. Her life was a carefully constructed symphony of shadows and whispers, where anonymity was her greatest armor. So it was with a sense of relief that she found herself wandering through the quiet halls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art on a Tuesday afternoon, the soft echo of her footsteps on marble floors a comforting rhythm against the silence.

She moved through the galleries with practiced ease, her gaze sweeping over masterpieces without truly seeing them. Art had never been her passion, but the quiet— oh, the quiet was something she craved like air. Here, no one looked twice at the redhead in the simple black dress, her hands tucked into her pockets, her expression neutral. Here, she could breathe.

It was in the Impressionist wing that she first noticed her. A woman standing before Monet's "Water Lilies," so still she might have been part of the exhibit herself. Natasha paused, observing from a distance. The woman was perhaps was younger than Natasha, she was curvy with a delicate air to her. She had a few strands hair escaping to frame a face that was… well, there was something about it that Natasha couldn't quite place. Not conventionally beautiful in the way the world defined beauty, but there was a softness to her features, a warmth that seemed to radiate even from across the room.

Natasha moved on, circling the museum slowly, but found herself drawn back to the same gallery twenty minutes later. The woman was still there, still studying the same painting with an intensity that Natasha found intriguing. What could one see in a canvas of blues and greens that held such fascination?

She approached quietly, stopping beside the woman but not too close, respecting the invisible boundary of personal space. The woman didn't seem to notice her arrival, her eyes fixed on the painting as if memorizing every brushstroke.

"What do you see?" Natasha asked softly, breaking the silence.

The woman startled slightly, turning to look at Natasha with wide eyes that seemed to hold depths Natasha hadn't expected. "Oh," she said, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. "I'm sorry, was I staring too long?"

Natasha shook her head, offering a small smile. "Not at all. I was just curious what holds your attention so completely."

The woman turned back to the painting, her expression softening again. "It's the light," she said, her voice gaining confidence as she spoke. "Monet wasn't just painting water lilies; he was painting the way light dances on water, how it reflects and refracts, creating a world that's both real and dreamlike. See here?" She pointed to a section where blues and greens blended seamlessly. "He's captured the surface tension, the way the water holds the light just for a moment before letting it go. And here…" Her finger moved to another area. "The shadows aren't just absences of light; they're entities in themselves, holding their own secrets."

Natasha found herself leaning closer, not to see the painting better, but to hear the woman better. There was a passion in her voice that transformed the artwork into something alive, something breathing.

"Most people see just a pretty picture," the woman continued, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. "But Monet was obsessed with capturing moments, transient, fleeting moments that most of us miss. He painted the same subjects over and over at different times of day, in different seasons, because he understood that nothing stays the same. The water lilies he painted today weren't the same ones he painted yesterday, and they won't be the same tomorrow."

She turned to Natasha again, and this time her smile reached her eyes, crinkling the corners in a way that made Natasha's breath catch. "Sorry," she said with a self-conscious laugh. "I get a bit carried away when it comes to art."

"Don't apologize," Natasha replied, and meant it. "I've never heard anyone describe a painting like that before."

"I'm Y/N," the woman offered, extending a hand.

"Natasha."

Their hands touched briefly, and Natasha felt an unexpected warmth spread through her. "Do you work with art?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Y/N shook her head, her smile dimming slightly. "No, I just… I love it. It's the one place where I feel like I can just be, you know? No one's looking at me or judging me, it's all about the art. I can just disappear into the colours and shapes."

Natasha nodded, understanding better than Y/N could imagine. "I know exactly what you mean."

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment before Y/N checked her watch. "I should probably get going," she said reluctantly. "I have a shift at the café."

"Which one?" Natasha asked before she could stop herself.

"The Beanery on 5th," Y/N replied. "It's nothing fancy, but the coffee's decent."

"I might stop by sometime," Natasha suggested, immediately wondering if she was being too forward.

Y/N's face lit up. "Really? That would be nice. Well, it was nice meeting you, Natasha."

"You too, Y/N."

As Y/N walked away, Natasha found herself watching her retreat, the sway of her hips, the way her shoulders were set with a certain resignation. She turned back to the painting, trying to recall what Y/N had said about light and shadows, about fleeting moments. But the details were already fading, replaced instead by the memory of hazel eyes bright with passion, the sound of a voice that transformed art into poetry.

Natasha didn't remember the painting afterward.

She remembered Y/N.

The next few weeks passed in a series of "accidental" encounters. Natasha found herself drawn to museums and galleries she'd previously ignored, half-hoping to see that familiar face bent in concentration before some masterpiece. And more often than not, she did.

At the Museum of Modern Art, she found Y/N studying Van Gogh's "Starry Night," her fingers tracing patterns in the air as if conducting the swirling sky. Natasha approached quietly, standing beside her until Y/N noticed her presence.

"Natasha!" she exclaimed with genuine delight. "What are you doing here?"

"The same thing you are, apparently," Natasha replied with a smile. "Seeking beauty."

They spent an hour discussing Van Gogh's turbulent brushstrokes and the way he'd captured movement in stillness, Natasha listening as Y/N's passion transformed the familiar painting into something new and exciting.

A week later, Natasha was browsing a small gallery in Chelsea when she heard a familiar voice analysing a sculpture with the same intensity she'd shown for paintings. She found Y/N explaining to the gallery owner why a particular piece of abstract art resonated with her, her hands gesturing expressively as she spoke.

"Y/N," Natasha said as she stepped up near the pair, enjoying the way Y/N's face lit up when she turned.

"Natasha! What are the odds?" she laughed. "I was just telling James here how this piece captures the tension between freedom and constraint."

Natasha listened as Y/N elaborated, amazed by how she could find meaning and beauty in the most abstract of forms. She watched as James watched on in what looked like awe as well.

When Y/N mentioned she worked at a café, Natasha decided it was time to visit The Beanery.

The café was cozy and warm, the air thick with the rich aroma of coffee. Behind the counter, Y/N moved with an efficiency that suggested years of practice, her smile genuine as she greeted customers. Natasha took a seat at a small table in the corner, content to watch.

"Natasha!" Y/N spotted her, her face lighting up. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"You said the coffee was decent," Natasha replied. "I thought I'd test that claim."

Y/N laughed, wiping her hands on her apron. "Decent is my professional assessment. It's actually pretty good. What can I get you?"

Natasha ordered a latte and muffin, watching as Y/N prepared it with practiced movements. As she waited, another barista, a young woman with bright pink hair and a nametag that read "Chloe" bounced over to Y/N.

"Hey, Y/N," Chloe said loudly enough for Natasha to hear. "That guy at table three is totally checking you out. You should go for it. Maybe you'll finally get a boyfriend."

Y/N's shoulders stiffened slightly, her smile tightening. "I'm working, Chloe."

"Right, right," Chloe said with a dismissive wave. "Still, you're not getting any younger. And maybe if you lost a few pounds, you'd have more luck. Just saying." It was said in a way that might be considered friendly banter, except for the tension that was apparent in Y/N's stance and the flicker of discomfort in her face.

Natasha felt a surge of anger, her hands clenching into fists under the table. Y/N didn't respond, just continued making Natasha's coffee with a forced smile that didn't reach her eyes.

When Y/N brought the latte over, Natasha reached out and touched her hand. "Don't listen to her," she said softly.

Y/N shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "She's just being honest. I am overweight, and I don't have a boyfriend. Not that I want a boyfriend" the last part mumbled out as if by mistake.

"Honesty and cruelty are not the same thing," Natasha replied, her voice low and intense. "And for what it's worth, I think you're beautiful."

Y/N's head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You don't have to say that."

"I don't say things I don't mean," Natasha countered, holding Y/N's gaze. "You have a warmth, a passion that's rare. And your eyes… they light up when you talk about art. That's beautiful."

A faint blush crept up Y/N's neck, and she looked away, flustered. "Thank you," she murmured. "I should get back to work."

Natasha nodded, releasing her hand after giving it a soft squeeze. As Y/N returned to the counter, Natasha watched her interact with other customers, her smile now seeming a little more genuine, a little less forced. Chloe, the pink-haired barista, shot Natasha a curious look before turning back to her phone, clearly uninterested in actual work.

Over the next month, their encounters became more frequent, more intentional. Natasha found herself timing her museum visits to coincide with Y/N's days off, learning her schedule through casual conversation. They met at the Guggenheim, where Y/N explained the architectural genius of the spiral ramp, and at a small photography exhibit in the Village, where Y/N's insights into composition and light gave Natasha a new appreciation for the medium.

Each meeting deepened Natasha's fascination. She found herself seeking out Y/N's opinions on everything from the film they'd just watched to the book she was reading, valuing the thoughtful, nuanced perspectives Y/N always offered. There was an intelligence to her that went beyond her knowledge of art, a warmth that made Natasha feel seen in a way she rarely experienced.

But there was also a fragility to Y/N that concerned Natasha. She noticed the way Y/N would sometimes shrink into herself when other patrons looked at her too long, the way she'd reflexively pull at her shirt as if trying to hide her body. Chloe's comments seemed to have taken root, growing into a thorny garden of self-doubt that Natasha longed to help her clear.

One rainy Tuesday, they found themselves sharing an umbrella outside the Whitney after the museum had unexpectedly closed due to a water main break.

"I'm sorry," Y/N said, her teeth chattering slightly. "I know you probably have somewhere important to be."

"Nowhere more important than here," Natasha replied, adjusting the umbrella to cover them both. "Besides, I like the rain."

"You would," Y/N laughed, the sound warming Natasha more than any coat could. "You always seem so… composed. Like nothing ever rattles you."

Natasha shook her head, droplets of rain flying from her hair. "That's just practice. I've had a lot of years to perfect the art of appearing unflappable."

"I wish I had that," Y/N said softly, her gaze fixed on a puddle at their feet. "I feel like I'm rattled by everything."

"Like what?" Natasha prompted gently.

Y/N shrugged, her shoulders hunching forward slightly. "Like Chloe's comments. Like the way people look at me sometimes. Like… well, like everything."

Natasha stopped walking, turning to face Y/N directly. The rain had lessened to a fine mist, glistening in Y/N's hair like tiny diamonds. "What do you see when you look in the mirror?" Natasha asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Someone who takes up too much space. Someone who should try harder to be… well, to be less."

"Less what?" Natasha pressed, her heart aching at the words.

"Less noticeable," Y/N admitted, her eyes fixed on Natasha's shoes. "Less hungry. Less… me."

Natasha reached out, tilting Y/N's chin up until their eyes met. "That's not what I see at all?"

Y/N's breath hitched, her bright eyes wide and vulnerable. "What do you see?"

"I see someone who finds beauty in a brushstroke, who can explain why a sculpture moves her to tears," Natasha began, her thumb gently stroking Y/N's jaw. "I see someone who's kind to customers even when she's having a bad day. I see someone whose laugh makes me want to hear it again and again. I see someone who's beautiful, sexy even, not despite her body, but with it."

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes, and she blinked them away rapidly. "You don't have to—"

"I do," Natasha interrupted firmly. "Because it's true. And because I'd really like to take you to dinner sometime. Not as two people who accidentally keep running into each other, but as two people who want to see each other on purpose."

Y/N stared at her, her expression a mixture of hope and disbelief. "You want to… take me on a date?"

"Very much," Natasha confirmed, her heart pounding in a way it hadn't in years. "If you'll let me."

A genuine smile finally broke through Y/N's uncertainty, transforming her face into something that made Natasha's breath catch. "I'd like that," she said softly. "I'd really like that."

Their first date was at a small Italian restaurant Natasha knew, tucked away on a side street where they wouldn't be bothered. Y/N arrived wearing a simple blue dress that brought out the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes, her hair down in soft waves around her shoulders.

"You look beautiful," Natasha said as she held out Y/N's chair.

Y/N blushed, smoothing the fabric of her dress self-consciously. "Thank you. Chloe said I should wear something that didn't make me look so… round. But this colour makes me feel… something."

Natasha's jaw tightened, but she kept her voice even. "Chloe's an idiot. You look perfect."

Throughout dinner, Natasha watched as Y/N gradually relaxed, the tension in her shoulders easing as they talked about everything and nothing. They discussed their favourite artists, their childhood memories, their dreams for the future. Natasha found herself sharing things she rarely told anyone, drawn in by Y/N's attentive listening and thoughtful questions.

"I've never been on a date like this," Y/N admitted over dessert, her fork pushing a piece of tiramisu around her plate. "Usually guys just want to talk about themselves or… well, they don't really want to talk at all."

"Then they're missing out," Natasha replied, reaching across the table, wiped a bit of the tiramisu off the corner of Y/N's mouth and put the spare bit in her own mouth. "Talking with you is the best part of my day." She finished with a soft smile.

Y/N's eyes widened slightly, and she looked down with a blush peppering her cheeks.

"I've been thinking about you constantly since we first met at the museum." Natasha said as she reached over resting her hand on Y/N's.

"I've been thinking about you too," Y/N confessed, her voice barely audible. "I keep wondering what you could possibly see in me."

Natasha leaned forward, her gaze intense. "I see someone who makes me want to be a better person. Someone who challenges me to look at the world differently. Someone I'm falling for, if I'm being completely honest."

Y/N's breath caught, her eyes searching Natasha's face as if looking for some sign of deception. Finding none, she finally allowed herself to smile, a real, unguarded smile that made Natasha's heart skip a beat. "I think I'm falling for you too," she whispered.

As they left the restaurant, Natasha found herself reaching for Y/N's hand, their fingers intertwining naturally as they walked through the quiet streets. The city lights reflected in puddles from the earlier rain, creating a magical atmosphere that felt like something out of a painting.

"I don't want this night to end," Y/N said as they approached her apartment building.

"Then it doesn't have to," Natasha replied, stopping to face her. "I can walk you up if you'd like."

Y/N nodded, leading the way to a third-floor apartment that was as warm and inviting as Y/N herself. The walls were covered with art, some prints, some original pieces and books were stacked in every available space. Natasha quickly made the layout of the apartment, where the bedroom was, through the open door she could see Y/N made every space her own.

"It's not much," Y/N said apologetically as she flicked on a lamp.

"It's you," Natasha countered, looking around with genuine appreciation. "It's perfect."

They stood in an awkward silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken possibilities. Finally, Natasha stepped closer, gently cupping Y/N's face in her hands.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked softly.

Y/N's answer was to lean in, her eyes closing as their lips met for the first time. It was gentle and tentative at first, then deepening into something that made Natasha's toes curl. Y/N's lips were soft and yielding, her hands coming up to rest on Natasha's waist as if she'd been waiting her whole life for this moment.

When they finally parted, both breathing heavily, Y/N rested her forehead against Natasha's. "Wow," she whispered.

"Yeah," Natasha agreed, her thumb stroking Y/N's cheek. "Wow."

Y/N's breath hitched, her body trembling slightly against Natasha's. "I've never… no one's ever…" she stammered, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson.

Natasha silenced her with another kiss, deeper this time, her tongue tracing Y/N's bottom lip before slipping inside to explore. Y/N responded with a soft moan, her hands tightening on Natasha's waist as if afraid she might disappear. When they parted, both breathing heavily, Natasha rested her forehead against Y/N's.

"Never what?" she asked softly. "Never been kissed like that?"

Y/N shook her head, her eyes wide with a mixture of desire and insecurity. "Never been wanted like this. Never had someone look at me the way you do."

"Then you've been surrounded by fools," Natasha said, her voice low and husky. She took Y/N's hand, leading her toward the bedroom. "Let me show you how you should be looked at."

The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of a bedside lamp, Y/N's art collection adorning the walls even here. Natasha turned to face her, slowly reaching for the zipper of Y/N's dress.

"May I?" she asked, her fingers hovering just above the fabric.

Y/N nodded, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. As the zipper slid down, Natasha's lips followed its path, pressing soft kisses against the newly exposed skin of Y/N's back. "You're breath-taking in this colour" Natasha said, causing Y/N to shiverer, her head falling forward as Natasha's hands slid the dress from her shoulders, letting it pool at her feet.

"Natasha," Y/N whispered, her arms instinctively moving to cover herself.

"No," Natasha said gently, taking Y/N's hands in hers and moving them away. "Don't hide from me. Let me see you."

Y/N stood before her in simple cream-colored lingerie, her curves soft and generous in the warm light. Natasha's eyes roamed over her body, her expression one of pure admiration.

"You're exquisite," she breathed, stepping closer to trace the curve of Y/N's hip with her fingertips. "Every inch of you."

Y/N shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm not. I'm too big, too—"

"Perfect," Natasha interrupted, her voice firm but tender. "You're perfect, Y/N. And I'm going to spend the rest of tonight showing you just how perfect you are."

She led Y/N to the bed, arranging her against the pillows before joining her, her body pressed close along Y/N's side. Natasha's lips found Y/N's again, her hands exploring with a confidence that Y/N found both thrilling and terrifying. When Natasha's fingers traced the edge of Y/N's bra, Y/N tensed.

"Relax," Natasha murmured against her lips. "I've got you. Just feel."

With practiced ease, Natasha unhooked the bra, sliding it away and taking a moment to simply look. Y/N's breasts were full and heavy, the dusky nipples already pebbled in the cool air. Natasha lowered her head, taking one into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.

Y/N arched off the bed with a cry, her hands tangling in Natasha's hair. "Natasha, please," she gasped, her body already trembling with need.

Natasha smiled against her skin, moving to give the same attention to the other breast while her hand slid down Y/N's stomach, tracing the soft curve of her belly before dipping below the waistband of her panties. Y/N's hips bucked involuntarily as Natasha's fingers found her already slick with arousal.

"Look at you," Natasha whispered, her breath hot against Y/N's ear. "So responsive. So beautiful when you're lost in pleasure."

Y/N could only moan in response, her body moving instinctively against Natasha's hand as Natasha's fingers explored her folds, circling her clit before sliding inside. Natasha set a slow, deliberate rhythm, her thumb pressing against Y/N's clit with each thrust.

"Let go for me," Natasha urged, her lips capturing Y/N's in a searing kiss. "I want to feel you come apart in my arms."

It didn't take long. With a cry that was part pleasure, part disbelief, Y/N shattered, her orgasm washing over her in powerful waves. Natasha held her through it, her movements gentling as Y/N slowly came back to herself.

"Beautiful," Natasha whispered, pressing soft kisses to Y/N's face and neck. "So incredibly beautiful."

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, hazy with satisfaction and something else, vulnerability. "That was…" she began, then shook her head. "I don't have words."

"Good," Natasha said with a small smile. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

She helped Y/N out of her panties, then quickly shed her own clothes before settling between Y/N's thighs. Y/N's eyes widened as Natasha lowered her head, her tongue tracing a path through Y/N's folds.

"Natasha," Y/N gasped, her hands fisting in the sheets. "You don't have to-"

"I want to," Natasha interrupted, looking up at her with eyes dark with desire. "I want to taste you, to feel you come against my tongue. Will you let me?"

Y/N could only nod, her body already anticipating the pleasure to come. Natasha's mouth was hot and skilful, her tongue finding all the sensitive spots that made Y/N writhe and moan. When Natasha slid two fingers inside her, curling them to find that special spot within, Y/N saw stars.

"Come for me again," Natasha urged, her voice muffled against Y/N's flesh. "Let me hear you."

With a sob of release, Y/N did, her orgasm even more intense than the first. Natasha lapped at her juices, prolonging the pleasure until Y/N was limp and sated beneath her.

When Natasha finally moved up to lie beside her, Y/N turned to face her, her eyes searching. "Why?" she asked softly. "Why me?"

Natasha propped herself up on an elbow, her free hand tracing patterns on Y/N's stomach. "Because you're passionate and intelligent and you see beauty in places others miss. Because you're kind and you make me laugh. Because when you talk about art, your eyes light up in a way that makes me want to keep watching you forever. Because you're beautiful and sexy. And because," she added, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Y/N's lips, "I'm falling in love with you."

Tears filled Y/N's eyes, but this time they were tears of joy. "Even with…" she began, gesturing to her body.

"Especially with," Natasha corrected gently. "This body is part of what makes you you, and every part of you is perfect to me."

Y/N smiled. "I think I'm falling in love with you too," she whispered.

"Good," Natasha said, her own smile widening. "Because I was hoping you might consider staying in my life on purpose. Not as someone I keep accidentally running into, but as my girlfriend."

Y/N's answer was to pull Natasha down for a kiss, her body pressing close as if trying to merge them into one person. When they finally parted, both breathing heavily, Y/N rested her forehead against Natasha's.

"Yes," she said softly, but with a conviction that left no room for doubt. "Yes, I'll be your girlfriend."

As they settled into each other's arms, Y/N felt something shift inside her a quiet confidence that had been missing before. Natasha saw her as beautiful, as desirable, as worthy of love. And maybe, just maybe, she was starting to see herself that way too.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

You’d spent all afternoon overthinking every detail about tonight. What to wear. What to bring. The thought of stepping into Wanda’s home had you choking on air. It felt far more intimate than you were prepared for.

You had been travelling twenty minutes outside the city when you veered down a street lined with gorgeous palm trees and houses that towered over you. Each home accompanied by perfectly manicured gardens and polished luxury cars.

The street rounded a corner as you slow, finding the number you were looking for and you shift your car into park in front of the house. Wanda’s house.

“Well, shit,” you say out loud. The home in front of you is even more impressive than you expected. Your nerves start to creep in as you sit behind the wheel, psyching yourself up before stepping out of the car.

You didn’t quite understand why you were so nervous. You had been with Wanda plenty of times now and had been intimate in so many ways, yet standing on her doorstep made it feel far more personal.

Your knuckles barely left the wood when Wanda surprised you by opening the door almost instantly. Her eyes linger on you for a moment, offering an expression you can’t quite read before her attention drifts to the bottle of wine in your hand. A last minute attempt to avoid showing up empty handed.

Wanda’s lips curve into a playful smirk, “I didn’t peg you as a wine girl.”

Her eyes flicker back to yours, her smile reaching them. You let out a giggle before admitting, “I-I’m not really, but I thought you might be.”

“How thoughtful,” she winks at you and takes the wine off your hands, ushering you inside.

You follow her through to the kitchen as she looks back at you with a smile, “lucky for you, I made cocktails, thought they would be more your style.” You laugh with a sigh of relief, thanking her for the thoughtfulness and hospitality.

As you reach the kitchen, your jaw drops when your gaze hones in on the selection of pre-made cocktails lined up on the counter.

“It’s a little hobby of mine, believe it or not I worked in a bar when I was younger.”

“I’m impressed, Maximoff,” you tease as Wanda grabs two of the cocktails, handing one over to you. She takes a sip of her own without breaking eye contact, her gaze fixed on you over the rim of the glass.

“Mm… look at you,” Wanda purrs, biting her lip. “Getting all dressed up for me.”

Warmth creeps into your cheeks at the comment, intensifying when you notice her eyes raking over your body. You had dressed with her in mind– an open black blazer framing a delicate lace crop top leaving a strip of your stomach bare, it’s low cut framing your beasts, revealing your cleavage. Tailored black dress pants, a sleek black and gold belt, and a pair of heels polished off the outfit– the perfect balance between elegance and temptation.

You were still craving Wanda, and you wanted her to crave you too. But you had come here for a reason, and that reason was work.

In an attempt to diffuse the tension, you clear your throat. “Why don’t we..”

“Yes, come. We should talk work. But don’t let me forget to feed you, I made one of the traditional meals from back home.”

“That’s what that amazing smell is, you really shouldn’t have.”

With a grin, Wanda continues to guide you through her house and into the living area. The spacious, open plan room is lined with polished timber floorboards, with a cozy white sofa sitting atop a soft rug in the center of the living space. A sleek glass coffee table sits between the sofa and the television, while a soft beat of music thrums through the speakers.

To the right, lies the most breathtaking feature. Much like her office, floor to ceiling windows stretch the length of the living room overlooking the city skyline in the distance, lights shining and flickering miles away creating a breathtaking view.

Wanda gestures for you to take a seat before joining you a moment later, leaving little to no space between you as your thighs brush against one another.

“Before we get into work,” Wanda begins, “tell me more about you… got anything to hide?”

Your eyes shot up at Wanda then, catching the raised eyebrow planted on her face causing you to let out a laugh.

“Me? No, I’m an open book,” you smile. “I’d like to think I’m all mysterious but unfortunately for me, people figure me out too fast.” The two of you share a moment of laughter and it feels nice to be this way with Wanda, it’s a relief to be feeling comfortable in this new environment.

“You do intrigue me, Y/N.” Another laugh escapes Wanda’s lips sending a flutter through your stomach. You’re in trouble.

As the night continues, Wanda picks up the conversation about work, letting you into her world a little by telling you about her day-to-day duties, the high demands of the job, and the back-to-back meetings that leave her with little time for herself.

It occurs to you then that she really had set aside the time to see you, but you bury the thought. Wanda continues to let you in, telling you about the way she works with some of the men in the department and explaining her reasoning for hiring more women into leadership roles within the company.

“Much like the project you and your team are working on now– between you and me– there are some executive leaders that just want to disagree for the sake of disagreeing, and for what? Having their voice heard for 5 minutes?”

You chuckle at how candid she is being with you. “No, you’re right. The number of times we’ve had to go through them for approvals, only for them to change their minds week to week... it’s become a complete shitshow. Honestly, we just want to get this over the line.”

Wanda smiles, raising her glass to you. “And that’s where I come in,” she says, winking in your direction. “Y/N, your work is incredible. Yes, there may have been a few hiccups and setbacks recently, but truly, your work is incredible. I’m tired of the broader teams slamming everything just because they feel the need to be seen adding value.”

Visibly frustrated, she exhales and rests a hand on your thigh, causing you to suck in a sharp breath, hopefully going unnoticed.

“I’m on your side,” Wanda reassures you. “And I’m here to help. I can promise you that.” The hand placed on your thigh gives it a gentle squeeze. Wanda being soft with you like this tonight wasn’t exactly on your bingo card.

Throughout the night, you’d caught Wanda’s gaze drifting to your lips more times than you could count, her eyes flicking between them and your own. This time though, when you noticed, you couldn’t stop yourself. Your tongue swept across your lips in an unconscious motion and her eyes followed.

Wanda leans in and kisses you, but unlike all the other kisses you shared, this was different; softer, gentle. You don’t hesitate to kiss her back in the same manner, brushing your lips against hers in soft movements until Wanda pulls back. Her eyes narrow, shaking her head, quickly changing her demeanour.

She meets your lips again, but this time it is much more hungry– aggressive even– the sudden change taking you by surprise. Wanda tugs at the seams of your blazer. Instinctively, you move your arms to give her access, allowing her to rip the blazer off your body.

The cooler air hits your skin, raising goosebumps across your upper body but it’s quickly replaced by Wanda’s warm mouth devouring your neck and trailing kisses down to your chest. You gasp at the contact.

Wanda leaves your little black top on for now as she proceeds to unbuckle your belt, pulling your pants off to reveal your lace panties. The unmistakable hunger written all over her face weakens you.

You need her. God you need her.

Whatever takes over you has you pushing Wanda back into the sofa, straddling her. The thin lace is all that is between your aching pussy and her thigh. Desperation has taken over you when you begin to create the friction you so badly need, starting a slow grind on Wanda’s thigh.

Wanda chuckles, holding your hips in place to stop your movements. “So needy,” she teases.

You whine at the loss of friction, trying to wriggle out of her grip. “Please,” you beg, feeling the tiniest bit pathetic for how needy you sound.

Her grip on you loosens then, and you continue to rut against her, gasping at each roll of your hips.

“You’ve been thinking about me all day, dorogaya?” Another whine escapes your lips, you would later find out how well she really could read your mind.

You don’t know how she does it, but one moment you are straddling Wanda and the next you’re flat on your back against the sofa, her fingertips send burning desire across your skin. She indulges in your body, her mouth leaving hot open kisses from your jaw down to the hem of your lace panties. You squirm underneath her heat as her mouth makes contact where you need her the most, the fabric the only barrier between you.

Wanda kisses you through your panties, chuckling at the way your body jerks toward her searching for more. Wanda’s resolve threatens to come undone as your scent overwhelms her senses. She is quick to rip the panties off you. Cold air hitting your core before the warmth of her tongue replaces it causing you to push into her pathetically as a moan escapes your mouth.

Wanda doesn’t tease. She doesn’t take it slow. Because she has plans. She wants to do so much to you tonight. You are hers to devour.

The smooth, wet licks of her tongue pushes you closer and closer to your orgasm. She flicks her tongue with such precision that it washes over you so fast it’s almost embarrassing.

Your fingers thread through her hair holding her in position as you ride out your high– but the moment your movements begin to slow, Wanda lifts herself above you, keeping your legs spread open for her as she thrusts two fingers straight into your core.

Your eyes flash open so fast at the stretch, and a blissful groan escapes you, though you open your mouth to protest. Wanda hushes you, “Tonight is about you, I want to hear you scream for me.”

The authority in her words sends a tremor through you in perfect timing with her next thrust. Her fingers press and curl in all the right places, and you’re already such a mess for her.

You move your hand to place your fingers on your clit, looking up at Wanda in question.

“Please. By all means,” she hums, understanding your request.

With her permission you rub your bundle of nerves in circular motions as her fingertips continue to hit you in all the right places– your arousal allowing her to add a third finger, earning a groan from the woman above you. She is relishing in the way you are touching yourself for her as her fingers thrust inside you over and over again.

As the movements of your fingers quicken, Wanda matches your pace. You’re a whimpering mess beneath her as your climax approaches.

“Oh f-fuck! Fuck me… harder.. fuck me..” the pleas are spilling out of you frantically and Wanda does exactly what you ask– ramping up the pace– fucking you hard into the sofa as you continue screaming pleas.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck me!”

“Oh, fuck,” Wanda growls, “Cum for me, dorogaya.”

That was enough to send you over the edge, your back arching in a silent scream– your orgasm ripping through you– before the sounds spill from your mouth filling the room.

Wanda doesn’t stop fucking you until your hips slow and your legs are a quivering mess. She wants to draw every noise from you, each breath and moan sending a jolt of electricity through her core.

Eventually Wanda begins to withdraw her fingers from you but is forced to stop as you place a firm grip on her wrist. “Not yet,” you plead. You want to feel her a little longer while you grind against her with the last of the aftershocks from your mind blowing orgasm.

Once your grip on her wavered, she slips two of her fingers into her mouth followed by a moan, making you squirm beneath her. Noticing your state, Wanda proceeds to place all three fingers at your lips, beckoning you to open. As soon as your lips part, she hums in satisfaction as you take all three digits into your mouth– leftover slick mixed with Wanda’s saliva swirling in your mouth as you suck. Wanda grunts softly at the sight, swiftly replacing her fingers with her tongue. Your tongues slide along one another in a deep, lingering kiss that leaves you breathless.

Wanda bites her lip, lifting herself from you in hesitation. “I… should probably get you something to eat…”

“No,” you protest, too quickly for your desperation to go unnoticed. “I’m not hungry,” you continue, catching Wanda raising an eyebrow at you. “Where is your bedroom?”

Wanda rises from the sofa and holds out her hand for you to take, “follow me.”

You’re not even halfway through the bedroom door when Wanda grabs and pins you against the wall, slipping her tongue into your mouth to taste you all over again. You love this, you do. You are thoroughly enjoying how Wanda is making you feel, but you’re after your share too.

So you thrust your knee into the apex of Wanda’s thighs, enough to distract her momentarily, rolling her back against the wall to take control.

However, Wanda shows no mercy. With a flick of her fingers, your hands are forced behind your back and you’re pinned to the wall, your front pressed flat against it.

“I said, tonight is about you,” Wanda warns.

“Wanda..”

Before you can say anything else, Wanda presses her body against yours, caressing your bare ass, her mouth in your ear softening her tone, “I want to make you feel good.” Her fingers find your dripping wet hole again and she pushes her fingers inside you, causing you to shudder and whine from her need to take you on the spot.

Wanda has you quite literally under her spell, trapping you between the cold wall and the warmth of her body, pumping her fingers inside you. With her free hand, she slaps your ass before lowering herself to kiss the mark she just left on you. She slides her tongue over your skin before closing her mouth– sinking her teeth into the sensitive area– eliciting a cry of pleasure so loud, you tried to silence it against the wall.

When she spins you around capturing you in another kiss, you melt under her touch, her scent.

After a few moments you notice that you’re moving and Wanda is backing you up towards the bed. When your knees touch the edge of the mattress, you fall, bringing her down with you. The kiss is soft but deeply passionate, leaving your head spinning– not just from the kiss itself, but from the emotional whiplash of her ever changing demeanour throughout the night.

You feel her power before you see it, red wisps of magic forcing both your legs and arms apart, exposing you to the witch above you, leaving you at her mercy. The magical restraints tighten, locking you firmly in place beneath her.

You exhale a shaky breath, nervous but so incredibly willing to do whatever Wanda wants of you. She has a hold over you that no one has ever been able to before.

You catch Wanda smiling as she retrieves a small red toy of sorts from her dresser.

“Close your eyes,” Wanda’s voice is soft and commanding. She knows you will obey, your breathing has become ragged in anticipation, not knowing what to expect and running through the possibilities in your mind.

The bed dips between your legs as Wanda makes herself comfortable before your exposed center. You realise she is stripped of her clothing when you feel her skin come in contact with yours, making your arousal even more evident than before.

Your thighs automatically react, trying to clench together, but it’s of no use as your legs are bound by Wanda, completely under her control.

Wanda presses her body firmly against yours, settling atop you as she begins to nip at every inch of your skin. Her teeth graze the sensitive curve of your neck while her hands roam over your body. You respond to every touch, as she aims for more reactions from you. Her mouth falls to your chest, taking in the sensitive nub, making you squirm beneath her and caresses your inner thighs, eliciting gruntled moans from your lips.

“Wanda, please,” you’re begging for a release, her teasing is becoming too much. That’s when you feel the toy press against your clit, making you gasp.

“You’re going to be good for me, okay?”

Your lack of response is met with two fingers squeezing your jaw, forcing your gaze up to those piercing, demanding green eyes. “Okay?”

You nod helplessly, trying to get the word out, “m..kay.” Wanda then lets out a throaty groan of satisfaction.

You hear a click of a button and soft vibrations hum against your bundle of nerves. You tense, pulling on your makeshift restraints as your lips part in pleasure and anticipation.

“Shh, it’s okay. I got you.” Wanda coos.

Wanda controls the settings of the vibrator, turning it up and down as she pleases, having whimpers escape you sporadically under her control. She teases you for what feels like an excruciatingly long period of time. She would have it so low in one moment and then up to the highest setting in the next, making you cry out– begging for her.

Wanda watches as you lose your fight with the restraints, desperately trying to grip the sheets as she leaves the vibe on the highest setting for a few moments. Taking pity on your struggle, she turns it down– but only to begin to work you back up slowly, one click of a button at a time.

As the vibrations become more intense, the coil within you tightens, building up a wave of pleasure that has your mouth screaming Wanda’s name and your back arching beneath her.

Wanda doesn’t stop the vibrator.

No.

She continues to push it against you until you cum again.

Straggled screams leave your throat dry as you are writhing under her. You’re in an absolute fucked out state that you don’t notice her thrusting inside you as a new wave washes over you.

You are mush. Completely overstimulated. Your eyes are starting to glaze over when you feel Wanda’s hot breath against your ear. Her voice soft as velvet. “Just one more, I want to feel you one more time. Can you do that for me?”

You nod with as much energy as you could muster, completely and utterly blissed out from the relentless pleasure. Wanda then captures your soaked pussy in her mouth– sending jolts of pleasure through you, lighting up your senses once more, making you fully aware of the sensitive mess you’ve become.

Wanda is busy lapping up the taste of the last four orgasms she has given you, moaning as her tongue buries deep inside you. You’re squirming and seeing stars at this point. Wanda slides up your folds, returning to flick your sensitive spot as her hand reaches for yours, releasing you from your restraints– intertwining your fingers as she consumes you.

The touch of Wanda’s hand in yours sends a new set of sensations through you as her other slides two fingers inside you one last time.

You gasp.

The combination of her tongue, her fingers and her hand in yours is too much. Your breathing has become shallow and your grip tight in Wanda’s hand, seeking the comfort she provides through your final orgasm.

Your eyes are rolling back before your body jolts from the intensity of your pleasure and before long your body goes limp. Your heart pounds frantically, thrumming in your ears, as your vision blurs and the world around you slowly dissolves.

Wanda notices the way she’s fucked you into such a sleepy state and brings her body close to you, comforting you.

Your breathing slows to a steady rhythm as she delicately tucks the strands of hair away from your forehead and behind your ear. She pulls you into an embrace and you quickly pass out after the night’s events. Eventually, Wanda allows her own eyes to drift closed as well, falling asleep by your side.

────

In the middle of the night you wake to feel warmth from a body pressed up against you.

Wanda.

Her arm is slung tightly around your waist, your legs intertwined as you feel her resting breath against you, tickling the hairs at the nape of your neck.

Your heart skips. You’re not sure what you’re feeling in this moment. Or what this means. What any of tonight means.

You decide to shake off the thoughts and tell yourself you will come back to it in the morning, allowing yourself this moment to fall back asleep in the warm embrace of Wanda Maximoff’s arms.

────

The next time you wake, sunlight filters through the slats of the Venetian blinds, bathing your skin in the gentle warmth of the morning. You’re feeling well rested, albeit a little sore.

As you roll onto your side, the unfamiliar room comes back into focus, and you realise exactly where you are. You shot up, taking in your surroundings. Wanda’s room. Last night.

Ugh. Wanda.

Wanda?

You’re alone.

You check the time to find that it is already 8:00am. She must have already gotten up and made her way to the office by now.

You follow suit.

────

That day, you didn’t hear from Wanda.

You figured she was just really busy with the demands of her job and she did have a late night with you after all, she would have to be exhausted. One day didn’t hurt.

Early the next morning you receive a meeting invite in your inbox from Wanda.

Performance Review

10:00am

You smile to yourself, accepting her meeting invitation and biting the inside of your cheek to keep the grin from spreading any wider.

You make your way through the office floor and walk into Wanda’s office all smiles, but it falters almost instantly.

Wanda doesn’t smile back.

Her expression is unreadable, her posture rigid, every movement measured– nothing but business.

“Take a seat.” Wanda’s voice is stern, cold enough to leave your throat dry. You swallow hard. Why did she seem so different today?

“Y/N, your direct managers and I have spoken and it looks like your performance is back on track and these meetings will no longer be required. I appreciate and thank you for the work you are doing here.”

Your brows furrow in tight confusion. This couldn’t be happening. Your lips part, thinking of something to say but you’re cut off.

“That will be all.” The words strike like a blade of ice– cold, sharp, cutting straight through you. Your blood boils, but you’ve lost the ability to speak and before your mind catches up, your body has already turned, carrying you out the door.

────

“Are you going to eat that food or are you just going to play with it?”

You had been starting off into space when Natasha approached you in the kitchen, pulling up a chair to sit opposite you.

You had been mulling over Wanda not being in contact for a few days after your last meeting. How cold and heartless she was towards you. Her actions just didn’t make sense after the night you shared and if you were being honest with yourself, you probably weren’t completely healed from your break up to deal with this kind of rejection.

You stab your food hard enough to grab the redhead’s attention, cocking her brow at you in question.

A defeated sigh leaves your body as you settled the fork down on your bowl, slumping back in your chair.

“Just… women.” You scrunch your nose.

“Mmm… so you did have secrets!” Natasha cheekishly teases.

“It’s just complicated, why does it always have to be complicated? And why do these attractive women have to be so bossy and kind of mean.”

“I thought that was your type.”

You shoot Natasha a glare then, eliciting a chuckle from her at your clear despair.

“Do you want me to fight them?” Nat proposes, making you laugh. “What!? I have a pretty mean right hook.”

────

A week goes by of radio silence from Wanda. Not only does she not speak to you, she never once makes an appearance in the common areas of the office. Despite being at work, you don’t catch a glimpse of her all week.

That is until today.

It was just an ordinary day in the office, finding yourself troubleshooting the newest platform you are tasked to launch. You had been so engulfed in your work that the sudden sensation caught you by surprise, gasping out loud, having to play it off as a work related matter. You felt something, a slight touch not attached to your body. Before you could register what was happening, the sensation was gone.

You were bothered, in more ways than one. You knew it was Wanda and her enchantment. Was it an accident?

Come afternoon, two figures in motion walking through the office catches your attention, making you glance up from your monitor. Wanda, in the flesh, walking alongside a co-worker. Your gaze is fixed on her. For a brief moment, her eyes dart to yours, though her expression is unreadable as she passes by.

The afternoon continued on. You tried to busy yourself with work, doing your best not to dwell on seeing Wanda for the first time in a week. It was a poor attempt at convincing yourself it hadn’t affected you, let alone the familiar sensation you felt earlier.

Red.

You see red clouding your vision again.

“Come to my office. Now.”

The firmness in Wanda’s voice vibrates through you before a moment of vulnerability.

“Please.”

You sigh. This is odd. But with no surprise, you’re already out of your seat, one foot in front of the other, leading you to Wanda’s office.

The energy in the room is much different to what you’ve experienced before, upon entering, you find Wanda pacing back and forth, absentmindedly threading her necklace through her fingers while her lips press into a tense line, her expression lost in thought.

Your presence pulls her from her mind and she turns to approach you. You sense something different about her. Her eyes seem darker somehow, so much so that for a moment, you could even mistake them for sad.

You can see the internal argument she has within herself before pulling you in with her magic. Your bodies flushed, lips daringly close. The desire burns within you to close the gap. Her darkened eyes look up at you, desperate, pleading.

“Touch me. Please touch me.” You had never seen Wanda this vulnerable, this willing to give up the mask she hides behind. “I need you.”

You draw out a slow, unsteady breath at her words before her hands are slipping behind your neck and her magic is speaking into your mind.

“Do your worst.”

The words set you on fire. She needed you just as much as you needed her.

And you were hungry.

Zero hesitation. Your hands wrap around Wanda’s legs, lifting her and walking back toward her desk, slamming her against it. Your mouth grazes over the curve of her neck before sinking your teeth into her flesh, marking her all over as you spread her wide for you, pulling her panties down her legs and tossing them to the side.

Wanda’s eyes meet yours expectantly, her words repeating in your mind.

“It’s your turn.” Wanda’s confusion makes your lips curve to one side. “Close your eyes.”

Wanda does as she is told and it’s a sight that sends shivers through your core.

You lift her legs from beneath her thighs, pushing her back further on the desk, making sure she’s spread open for you, both knees touching her shoulders. It is too tempting to have complete self control. Wanda’s shocked gasp fills the room as you slide your tongue through her folds, so incredibly soaked, the taste of her has you humming vibrations against her sensitive nerves, eliciting a trail of moans from Wanda’s open mouth.

“Keep your eyes closed,” you demand.

Wanda may be more powerful, but she allows you to have it all right now, submitting as she closes her eyes.

You pull away, watching Wanda’s body language tell you how much she’s craving more. And just before she’s about to let out a string of pleas, your hand lowers in one sharp, fluid motion, making contact with her wet, aching pussy.

A straggled moan releases from Wanda’s lips as she is taken by surprise by the sting your hand had caused her. Wanda’s breath quickens and her body is moving in need, in anticipation. She holds her breath as you land another wet strike to her soaked cunt. Wanda cries out, shock mixed with pleasure.

Wanda’s legs begin to squeeze together but your hands grip her thighs apart. “Uh-uh,” you warn.

Your warning elicits another moan as you watch her pussy throb for you.

Another slap.

Another.

Wanda never knowing when the next one will hit.

But now, she is bucking her hips toward you, begging.

“Harder, Y/N.”

You do so, striking again and you watch her jolt underneath you. And before she has time to recover, you sink three fingers deep into her. Wanda’s walls clench around you at your surprise entrance.

You fuck Wanda with all you have. Hard. Desperate. Needy. Making sure she feels every hard thrust. Your free hand gives her throat a firm grasp as your pace quickens– so much so that the tight grip she has on you is going to leave bruises. Her marking your body only pushes you harder as she’s screaming your name.

You pull her from the desk and flip her onto her front as you continue to relentlessly thrust your fingers into her over and over causing Wanda’s legs to shake and start to give out.

You love seeing Wanda like this. She is absolutely perfect in every way, you want to please her as much as she would allow you.

Guiding Wanda back up to stand, you hold her firm against you. Her hand reaches around the nape of your neck as your fingers continue to pleasure her bundle of nerves.

Wanda is so close to reaching her high, and every whimper is irresistibly intoxicating. You grip her throat once more, tightening around her airways as her head snaps back against your shoulder– her climax hitting her hard with sharp intensity. You release the hand closed around Wanda’s throat, granting her the breath to cry out her pleasures of unwavering satisfaction as you hold her steady when her weakened legs buckle beneath her.

Heavy breaths are shared in the space between you as your heads rest against one another, the euphoric high affecting your mind.

“Fuck, Wand–”

A bruising kiss cuts you off before you are able to speak another word. Whatever Wanda had sensed within you had to be smothered before it could be brought to the surface.

The kiss, along with what had just transpired between the two of you, left you both breathless. But there is a shift in the air when Wanda turns her back on you and braces herself against the desk.

And without looking at you, she speaks in the coldest, bluntest tone you’ve ever heard.

“That is all. You may go.”

You are stunned.

But as the words sink in, anger seeps into your veins at her dismissal.

“What the fuck, Wanda?!”

The outburst stung. With her back still turned to you, Wanda made sure you didn't see the pained expression that crossed her face.

“I said, that is all.” Wanda hisses through gritted teeth. She pauses, the silence hanging heavily in the room before her voice cracks. “Please. Leave.”

You storm off at that, never seeing the tears forming in Wanda’s eyes as she fights to keep them from falling.

────

You slump back in your chair, fuming. Hurt even. There are so many thoughts swirling in your head. Emotions becoming too much to bear. You place your belongings back in your drawer and slam it shut, a little too rough to go unnoticed.

“What did that drawer ever do to you?”

You groan in frustration, you’re angry. You love Nat and her humour, you do– but today is just not the day.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, noticing your tense, solemn expression.

“Nothing,” your tone is flat and dismissive. “I’m fine.”

But you weren’t fine. You didn’t know why this hurt you. You knew this was just a bit of fun and a silent agreement the two of you had. Even if it was just fun and she was over it, she could have at least been nicer about it.

You knew things were different after the night you shared in Wanda’s bed. A line was crossed, perhaps. But you couldn’t help but find yourself thinking back to that night. The laughs you shared, how sweet she was without the pressures of the office. The glances at you she thought you didn’t notice. How you got completely lost in her eyes and the way she held you through the night. How her fingers fit perfectly with yours.

You cuss under your breath at what an absolute head fuck this has all been and how one person can have this affect on you.

Wanda fucking Maximoff.

𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁𐄙𐄁

Series Masterlist

Part Two | Part Three | Part Four (to come)

A/N: Thank you for reading 🫶🏻 I wasn’t thrilled with how I wrote this chapter but I wanted to finish it!

wanda had you cradled against her. your back against her front as she slipped her ringed fingers in and out of your crying cunt. she spoke the dirtiest words with the sweetest fucking tone as she thrusted her fingers into you, her other hand wiping tears away from your cheek.

"i can't, i can't, please! s' too much!" you cried into her chest, thighs begging to be closed because even you came down from your third orgasm, wanda never stopped the pace.

finally, she pulls her glistening fingers out of your cunt for the first time in… god knows how long, then holds it up to your face, spreading her fingers to show you the string of wetness connecting them.

“if you wanted me to stop you wouldn’t be making such a mess, hm ?” wanda hums, her lips brushing against your ear. she pushes her fingers into your mouth, pressing them against your tongue and making you taste yourself before thrusting the spit-soaked fingers back into your dripping cunt with a low groan. 

“your mouth is telling me to stop…” she sighs, “but your pussy,” she lightly pinches your clit, sending waves of electricity up your spine and a loud moan out of your mouth, “is telling me a different story…” 

“f-fuck !” you cry, tears brimming in your eyes, your thighs are trying their best to clamp shut but wanda keeps them open by hooking her legs around yours. 

your back arches against her front, “mommy please ! i can’t-” 

the title slips out of your mouth before it even registers in your brain. 

then your eyes widen, you realise your slip up. wanda’s fingers stop their relentless thrusting.

“i- i don’t know why i said that…” you push yourself away from wanda and quickly scramble to explain yourself, “i- i didn’t mean to say that, it just slipped out, im sorry wand-”

before you can even complete your sentence, wanda reaches for your waist and flips your body around so you’re now lying on your back, she hovers over you and her fingers enter you again, “no, not wanda,” she shakes her head lightly, her face right above yours as her eyes darken in a way you haven’t seen before, "i'm your mommy, isn’t that right ?” she fucks into you even harder. 

hearing wanda’s words, your pussy clenches around her fingers, a moan slips out of your lips as your hips jerk upwards against her hand, the movement presses your clit against her palm and your thighs immediately attempt to clamp shut despite the intrusion that is wanda’s body between them. 

“yeah, that’s it sweetheart,” she mumbles, pressing kisses against your neck, her movements are sloppy and feral, teeth scraping against your skin and her free hand grabbing for whatever part of your body is available to her. she palms your breast before her nails dig into the soft skin, sure to leave red crescent moon shaped marks for the next few days. 

but wanda still needs more, needs more contact, so her legs straddle your thigh as she continues pumping her fingers into you, her hips grind against your thigh and you can feel the wet patch forming on her panties. 

“w-wanda what are y- too much- fuck…” you cry, her fingers pushing in and out of your pussy in a way you’ve never felt, her fingers repeatedly hit that spongey part inside of you making you let out a whorish moan at every thrust. 

then a bite against a particularly sensitive part of your neck, the pain shoots through your body sharply but then melts down into a hot achy feeling between your legs that makes you grind against wanda’s fingers. you gasp and immediately reach for wanda’s head, not exactly pushing her away but your fingers tangle in her red hair, grasping at her scalp. 

“what did i just tell you, huh ?” wanda asks you condescendingly, her lips brushing against your neck as she spoke, “just a dumb little girl…” she murmurs. 

wanda’s lips finally leave your neck so her head can come up to look you in the eye, her pupils are blown in a way you never thought possible and glued to the way your eyes are brimming with fresh tears. her hand cups your cheek and her thumb brushes against your lips with uncharacteristic sweetness, you lean into her touch as you let out unintelligible whines. 

“toomuchtoomuchtoomuch,” you cry, your face almost trying to burrow into wanda’s hand for some form of comfort as you squirm in her grasp, trying to escape the way she's plowing her fingers into your pussy. you were feeling so fucking sensitive after the many orgasms she gave you and she was anything but caring towards the way you were feeling right now. your hands reach between your thighs for wanda’s, grasping at her forearm to try to get her to slow down. 

“uh uh, malysh,” she tuts, removing her hand from your cheek to grab your wrists and pin them above your head, “you wanted me to be your mommy, right ?” she asks with a slight tilt of her head, a small smirk forming on her lips, “i’m just giving you what you want.” 

“maybe my ears are broken but… i don’t hear you saying your safe word, so lie there and take it like a good girl,” wanda’s voice is smooth as honey as she speaks, “you don’t want me to tie you up, do you ?” and it isn't a threat, it isn’t a question either, it’s a promise of what she’ll do to you if you deny her. 

you panickily shake your head, “no- no i dont want that.” you hiccup, already imagining how long you'll be in this position if she ties you up, body vulnerable to everything she wants to do to you and more. 

“that’s what i thought,” she smiles and then leans down to kiss your tear stained cheeks “now be a good girl for mommy, hm ? let mommy use you.”

wanda removes her grasp from your wrists, trusting that you’ll leave your arms up there and you do, hands curling up in an attempt to stop yourself from pushing wanda away from your sensitive cunt. 

“what’s my name ?” she asks, her eyes scanning your face for every tremor of your lips and flutter of your eyelashes, she wants to make sure you give her the right answer, the answer you were giving her just now before getting so embarrassed.

you know what she wants to hear but that embarrassment adorning your cheeks doesn’t want to give in, doesn’t let you say what she wants to hear or what you, deep down, want to say. you open your mouth nervously, lips trembling as you give her your answer.

“wan-” 

wrong answer. 

suddenly there’s a red hot sting between your legs. wanda’s hand comes down on your clit, smacking it with precision, your thighs immediately try to clamp shut but wanda’s knee between your legs pushes outwards and makes sure that you can’t. 

“no mommy, no !” you cry, hands immediately leaving their position above their head to try to push her hand away, “i’m sorry mommy ! please mommy !” you sob, immediately giving in to what she wants to hear, you didn’t need anymore convincing. 

wanda hums, a little sound of satisfaction. 

“hands back up.” wanda gives you a look, a reminder of her previous promise. her hand hovers above your clit as well, prepared to smack you again if you didn’t listen. 

you agonisingly slowly put your hands back up above your head with a whine, a small protest of your own that wanda chooses not to do anything about. your legs are trembling, prepared to clamp shut again if she tries to smack you again.

“good girl.” she praises, her finger delve back into the velvety walls of your pussy with a small smile on her lips.

as wanda settles back into her rhythm, the pace is no longer just frantic, it’s relentless and methodical, every thrust of her fingers aim to draw a noise out of you, a whimper, a moan, a whine, it’s all music to wanda’s ears. her pussy continues grinding against your thigh, her arousal spreading across the expanse of your skin as she angles herself so that her clit hits against you perfectly every time, when she finally finds that spot her eyes roll back and she bites her lip, she lets out shallow breaths and small grunts as her hips grind against your thigh with the same rhythm that her fingers are fucking into you. her fingers hook deep in your cunt finding that sensitive, swollen spot and your hips buck upwards involuntarily. 

“for someone who wanted me to stop, you seem awfully desperate…” wanda mutters, her voice dropping into that register that makes your stomach fill with jittery butterflies. 

your cheeks grow into an even darker shade of red if possible from hearing her words. your hips grind against her hand as she fucks you, everything that happened, the way she smacked your  pussy, her fingers in your cunt, the humiliation from accidentally calling her mommy, her lower register, it all melted together into a hot tingly knot in your lower stomach. 

“fuck…” wanda groans, her hips pushing against your thigh with her head keeled back. she looks down at her fingers disappearing in and out of your pussy and almost has to stop herself from letting out a moan. 

“gonna cum all pretty on mommy’s fingers like a good girl ?” wanda watches you get closer, watches that feeling build up again despite the overstimulation, all while knowing that you know she’s not gonna stop. 

“i can’t, mommy… its too much…” you whine. 

“yes you can, malysh. you’re gonna cum for me one last time, just- fuck- one more and we’re all done,” wanda bites her lip, rubbing your clit even harder, her hips starting to grind against your hips sloppier, her breaths get shallower, clear that she was also close. 

your back arches violently with the way her fingers curl into you and your walls clench around her fingers, practically sucking her in. 

“just one more lyubov, i know my good girl can do it.” her voice feels like a hot chill running down your spine. her voice trembles as she speaks, she’s almost there too. 

every muscle in your body locks tight, your back bowing off the mattress as a loud combination of a moan and whine gets torn out of your lungs. it’s all too much and too everything and all you can do is ride the sensation that wanda is making you endure. 

before you know it, your legs shake and you cover wanda’s hand with your release. wanda’s hips press particularly hard against your thigh and she cums not too long after, her fingers in your cunt stopping their motions as her pussy squirts all over your thigh. 

“good girl- good fucking girl- god- mommy’s dirty little girl” wanda gasps, she leans forward and trails kisses against your neck, moving up until her lips meet yours. 

“mommy don’t stop, mommy please-” you cry against her lips, hips wiggling, clearly wanting her fingers in you again. wanda lets you ride out your orgasm on her fingers, it feels all too much and you were clearly too sensitive down there right now but it just felt so fucking good you couldn’t get enough. 

“thank you mommy- thank you thank you thank you” you mumble as you come down from your orgasm, “thank you mommy.” 

your head gets fuzzy and goes to that floaty headspace wanda loves you in, you feel like you’re floating, held in place and still on earth only by the weight of wanda’s body and the heavy intoxicating pull of her presence. 

when the aftershocks begin to subside, leaving you heavy limbed and too tired to move, you feel wanda’s fingers leave you and you whine, not enjoying the fullness that was taken away from you. then you feel a kiss against your forehead, wanda says a few words that didn’t register in your brain and her presence falls away. 

a few seconds after she leaves is only when you truly realise that she’s left. your eyes blink against the lights that look way harsher than usual and you bite your lip anxiously. 

“mommy ? mommy where are you…” you mumble, curling in on yourself, missing her warmth. 

her voice comes from afar, “i’m coming malysh, mommy’s right here, she just went to grab something to make you feel better, okay baby ?” 

it all went in one ear and out the other for you, just a string of words pieced together that didn’t make any sense. 

just as you were about to call for her again, she appears in front of you, you smile and your arms weakly reach out for her.

“want you.” 

wanda lets out a happy sigh, “we gotta clean you up moya lyubov, afterwards we can cuddle okay ?” 

you nod sleepily, feeling wanda press the warm towel against your skin. you wiggle a little when wanda softly rubs the towel against your sticky inner thighs, they still felt sensitive and the towel felt rough against your skin. 

“shhh it’s okay baby, we’re almost done,” wanda reassures you, making quick work with cleaning your thighs before moving on. it was probably only 5 minutes but it already felt like hours to you. 

when wanda was finally done, she leaves you again for a moment, but this time she gives you a pillow to cuddle while you waited. 

she took her time away to put the towel in the laundry basket and clean herself up but before you knew it, you felt a dip in the bed and slender arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to wanda. 

she pulls you close and guides your head to rest against her chest, pressing a kiss on the top of your head. 

“you did so good for me today malysh, i love you so much,” she mutters praises between kisses against your head. all the while, your eyes slowly flutter shut as you drift away, listening to the sound of wanda’s voic as you fall asleep.

– a/n can u guys tell idk how to write orgasms and aftercare idk. i like lowkey need to start reading more orgasm and (especially) aftercare writing this is embarrassing 💔 like i want everyone to know that this fic was delayed by a day bc i didn’t like how i wrote the aftercare, i still don’t and cringed at it but i gave up 🥲🥲🥲

your feet hit the floor at the side of the bed. the clock on the nightstand next to you reads 1:34 am. you sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face. you glance over in hopes of seeing a tangle of red hair lying next to you, but her side of the bed is empty.

you stand, bare feet padding against the obnoxiously hollow floors as you walk down the stairs towards the kitchen. your eyes are drawn to the source of low light bathing the downstairs in a soft glow. your feet continue pulling you forward as you hear the gentle clink of metal against glass.

when you peer around the edge of the kitchen archway, you’re met with the reason you began your journey downstairs in the first place.

natasha stands with her back to you near the island. she slides onto a bar stool, pulling a porcelain mug close to her chest with both hands. another mug sits beside her, steam still rising from its surface.

waiting.

“can’t sleep.” her voice is low in the quiet space. of course she knows you’re there. she always does. you shuffle into the room, rounding her chair just as she turns in your direction.

“are you asking or telling me?” you ask, lingering on your feet instead of taking the bar stool next to her. she lifts the mug to her lips, taking a small sip.

“you were tossing and turning.” her emerald green eyes flit to your face. her expression is smooth as she looks over you. you hug your arms around yourself, her oversized shirt you were wearing riding up your thighs just a bit.

“you should be sleeping.” you tell her. you’d been so stressed that you had barely gotten any sleep the last week you two have been in hiding. you didn’t want to ruin natasha’s rest any more than yours.

“i hadn’t fallen asleep yet.” she reaches around you and pulls the bar stool out a couple inches. it squeaks against the floor. “sit.” she tells you. it’s not a request.

you comply, assuming the chair next to her. she pushes the second porcelain mug closer to you. lemon tea—your favorite. you glance around for the jar of honey you normally keep out on the counter.

“it’s already in there—two tablespoons.” natasha says, knowing exactly what your eyes were searching for. normally, your heart would swell at the quiet knowledge of her remembering how you like your tea, but the stress that was currently coursing through your body made it hard to acknowledge.

“thank you.” you offer simply, cradling the mug in your two hands. you don’t drink from it. your stomach still feels sour and unsettled. in your peripheral vision, you can see natasha watching you. the way she observes you has you squirming in your seat, but you still don’t turn to face her.

she doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes, as if she’s waiting for you to break the silence first. you know that she knows you’re stressed. you also know that any worries you express regarding her safety will fall deaf on her ears. she’s always so sure of herself—never worrying about what could happen to her. it fills you with anxiety.

“i can practically feel your anxiety, (y/n). talk to me.” her voice is low with an edge of raspiness to it.

you sigh and shake your head, feeling reluctant to share your worries. you’d tried before to communicate how much you fret and stress over her when she was away on missions, but she never seemed to worry so much about herself.

“it’s nothing you haven’t heard before.” you mumble, bringing the mug to your lips to take a small sip. the hot liquid is soothing as it slips down your throat.

“tell me anyways.” she swivels her barstool so she’s now angled more towards you. she doesn’t reach out to touch you—not yet.

you sigh, turning to face her at last. you’re momentarily taken aback by her stoicism. she looks so calm—sure of herself. like she hadn’t almost died two weeks ago, like you weren’t on the run from one of the most dangerous organizations the world has ever seen.

“natasha…” you look back down towards the tea still steaming in your mug. your palms run along the smooth porcelain in attempt to soothe the urge to fidget.

“i can’t stop thinking about what happened. every time i close my eyes, i think about you back there, bleeding, alone and on the verge of taking your last breath. knowing that you aren’t afraid makes it worse for me. what if they know exactly where we are but they’re waiting for a sign of weakness? what if they find you one day when you’re out and about and you never come home to me? what if… what if they find me and take me in attempt to blackmail you into giving them what they want? what if the next time you run into them…” you trail off, unwilling to finish the sentence. natasha knows what you mean anyways.

she’s quiet for several beats. you don’t look at her as the silence stretches on.

your body is slowly turned towards her as she swivels your chair around to face her. she looks like she’s trying to be calm, but there’s a hard edge in her eyes that makes it hard to sit still.

“(y/n). i have you. i have us. i promise you that we’re safe and i would never let anything happen to you. i know you worry about me, but you don’t need to. i need you to trust me.” one of her hands is still gripping onto the chair, the other braced against your thigh. her closeness begins to cloud your thought process, like every imagined catastrophe slips quietly out of reach.

“but what if—“ she silences you with a single finger pressed against your lips.

“no more what ifs.” when she’s sure you won’t speak again, she moves her finger away from your lips and curls some hair behind your ear.

“but—“ you start again. this time it’s simply an arch of her brow that silences you.

“what did i just say?” she says firmly. your shoulders slump in defeat, a small frown etching in between your eyebrows.

“moya trevozhka (my little worrier)… looks like i need to reroute that anxious brain of yours.”

you glance at her face, gauging her expression. she holds your gaze with an intensity that seems to shift the feeling in the air. her eyes rake over your form, dressed only in her old, worn t-shirt and panties.

“reroute?” you ask quietly, your voice sounding small, even with so little space between the two of you. she offers a simple hum of acknowledgment, her eyes lingering on your bare legs dangling from the chair.

“stand up.” she commands gently. you hesitate. she lets you, patiently waiting for you to comply.

you slide from your chair, scooting it back and standing before her. she stands with you. you can feel the warmth of her body.

“you’re cute when you’re worried.” her hands find your hips, squeezing gently as she runs them up your sides.

“quit that.” you groan, just a little peeved at her making light of your worries. she grins, her grip tightening as she lifts you effortlessly onto the counter behind you. you make a small noise of surprise, your hands steadying yourself by her shoulders.

“it’s true.” her touch travels along your thighs until her fingertips dip under the bottom of the shirt barely concealing anything.

“i like seeing you in my clothes.” her eyes rake over you again, her gaze hungrier than before.

“natasha, this isn’t going to change how i feel.” you cross your arms stubbornly across your chest. she’s unfazed by your declaration. her palms press against your knees, spreading your legs so she can step closer to you. you try to appear like your heart isn’t beginning to race in your chest.

she exhales slowly through her nose. her hands tease your skin, gripping onto the fleshy part of where your hips meet your thighs.

“what’re you worried about again?” she asks, as if she could have forgotten the last five minutes.

you swallow, your thought process already becoming hazy with her proximity and close attention. “you getting hurt. something happening to you or to both of us.” you try to sound firm, but your tone is a little wobbly.

a small smile turns up the corner of her mouth, but she hides it as she leans closer, pressing her lips against your neck. your breath hitches as you hear her inhale deeply, humming to herself as she takes in your scent.

“would i ever let anything happen to you?” her voice so close to your ear causes goosebumps to prick at the back of your neck. it’s becoming increasingly difficult to recall your worries.

“well.. something could happen to you.” you offer, your voice sounding weaker than before, even to your ears.

her nose traces along your jaw, and then she kisses lower, at the base of your neck.

“don’t you know i’m good at what i do?” you don’t miss the twinge of arrogance in that statement. it doesn’t bother you as much as it should.

“you are good, but.. mistakes can happen.” you don’t even realize your arms have uncrossed and unconsciously wrapped around her neck, your body melting into her knowing hands.

she hums again, this time the sound unapproving. she peppers kisses along your jawline, then your chin and then your nose, moving in a manner that was completely unrushed.

“you’re underestimating how difficult i am to kill.” she states matter-o-factly, her touch gliding up to your ribs, caressing the soft skin.

you exhale in defeat, your eyes closing as you half reluctantly surrender to the sensation of being held.

“maybe.” you whisper, your whole argument and line of worries squashed with one word.

“maybe.” she echoes. you can feel her smiling into your neck before she nips there gently.

she pulls back, hands retracting from under your shirt and caging you in as she places her palms flat against the counter at either side of your legs.

“arms up.” you willingly obey her this time, reaching your hands towards the ceiling. you wiggle your hips to assist her as she lifts her borrowed shirt over your head and discards it carelessly onto the floor. your nipples harden in the cool air. you watch her eyes darken as she takes in your newly exposed skin with an intensity that has your cheeks glowing pink. you know by now not to cover up, despite the urge to.

she takes in the valley of your breasts, the soft perkiness to them; your nipples that go from a soft pink to a more dusty rose as they harden; the expanse of your stomach, paler than the rest of your body since it gets the least sunlight; the way it pudges and rolls slightly whenever you sit down. she loves that.

she watches you become more squirmy the longer she stares. it makes her belly curl with desire.

your pink panties are suddenly offensive as they cover the place she wants to give attention. she gives you one last look before spreading your legs with her strong hands, leaning down so her face is level with your increasingly aching core.

she notices the small wet patch, causing the spot to become translucent. she moves closer, her nose pressing against your panties as she inhales deeply. you whimper, hips rolling against her face. she holds your hips still with firm hands. her eyes flit up to yours, her tongue peaking out to taste your arousal coated panties. you exhale breathlessly, trying to keep your hips still.

she teases slow circles through the fabric. her tongue is warm, her breath hot as you can feel the heat even through the cotton barrier.

you’re about to plead for more when she pulls back just an inch, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties to take them off.

you spread your legs wide for her, heels planted firmly on the edge of the countertop. you look at her through your lashes, lip caught between your teeth. it’s an innocent expression, one she goes feral for since she knows you look that way unknowingly.

with your core now exposed to the open air, she leans down again. slow hands come between your thighs. she uses her thumbs to spread your labia, her mouth pooling with saliva as she watches arousal drip down your slit. she applies light pressure, smoothing her thumbs upwards until she spreads your lips wide enough to expose your clit. your hole clenches around nothing, an impatient whine bubbling up your throat.

she doesn’t acknowledge the sound, nor does she pick up the pace. you need this. you need to remember the careful hands that know exactly what you need. instead, she glides her thumb gently down your slit, the pressure so light that it’s barely even there.

you shift impatiently, your restlessness evident in your squirming body and desperate expression.

wordlessly, she leans closer. she flattens her tongue, exhaling so you can feel her breath against your pussy. she moves her tongue, acting like she’s going to taste you, but she never actually makes contact. she’s teasing you.

your whine of protest is louder this time. it makes her lips curl in amusement.

“are you still worried?” she asks, not moving from her place, which is so close to where you need her.

you huff, shifting your hips just an inch closer to the edge of the countertop.

“no.” you cry out, voice cracking with your breathless response.

“that’s what i thought.” she murmurs. her response sobers you up for half a second and you mean to retort back, but forget when you feel her tongue dip into your hole.

she hums at the flavor of you, gliding in and out of you with precise motions. you moan, hands coming to the back of her head like you’re worried she’ll stop unless you keep her there.

she slips her tongue back up towards your clit, swirling it around in tight circles. your head falls back, sounds freely flowing past your parted lips. you didn’t realize how much you needed this—needed to let go.

“fuck—nat. that feels so good!” your hands twitch against her head as her now flattened tongue moves perfectly in time with your rolling hips. she moans into your pussy, hands grabbing fistfuls of your thighs as she devours you.

she slips her tongue back inside of you, stretching it as far as it will go. her nose bumps against your clit. your hands tighten in her hair as you feel the pressure building in your stomach.

the noises she makes against you make you whine. there was no doubt in your mind she loved the taste of you.

she sucks your clit into her mouth, two fingers easily sliding into your dripping cunt as she pistons them in and out of you.

“fuck! i’m close!” you whine, hips moving on their own accord now. natasha doesn’t acknowledge your words beyond humming against you. the sounds you’re both making spur each other on. it’s almost enough to cover up the sticky noises from natasha fucking you with her fingers.

your back arches, the pressure in your stomach tightening until it feels like a rubber band that’s been pulled taut. it snaps, waves of pleasure wracking through your body with each flick of her tongue and curl of her fingers. she rides your high with you, slowing her pace as your walls flutter gently around her. her lips don’t release your clit until your hands push her away subconsciously.

she retracts her fingers carefully, kissing your thighs with arousal coated lips as you try to catch your breath. you run your fingers lazily through her hair, watching with hooded eyes as she helps to soothe your trembling form.

she straightens her posture, gathering your face in her hands before she leans in to kiss you. you moan at the flavor of yourself on her lips.

“i will never get over the taste of you.” she mumbles against your lips. you laugh breathlessly, your cheeks glowing under her praise.

“i hope not. you’re really good at that.” you tell her. she pulls back, an amused smile on her face.

“i’m really good at a lot of things.” she chuckles once. you roll your eyes affectionately.

there’s a lull of silence. not awkward, just quiet as you take each other in. your eyes glance from her right eye to her left.

“nat,” you start, your arms coming up to wrap loosely around her neck.

“hmm?” she hums when you don’t continue.

“i do trust you. just… please be careful.” your eyes are soft and sincere, conveying the weight of your genuity.

The discovery comes slowly. So slowly, that even with your back pressed against Natasha's front and her arm wrapped around your neck trying to teach you self-defense, the dots don't connect.

"Baby, I'm only going to squeeze for a second so you know what the technique is, but always know you can tap my arm at any time before then if you feel uncomfortable or unsafe." Natasha meets your eyes in the mirror. Her arm is only wrapped loosely, allowing you to tilt your head up to maintain contact. You give her a mischievous smile.

"Well, I didn't feel unsafe in the first place, but someone insisted on teaching me self-defense," you respond with a teasing lilt.

Natasha rolls her eyes in that playful way she does when she wants to be annoyed with you but can't quite manage it.

"Sue me for wanting you to be safe," she says with exasperation, but the underlying worry in her voice grows. "There's been a rise in crime in the area and I can't always pick you up from your university. What if something happens when you're walking back home?"

You let your head drop down with a sigh. As you do, her forearm presses lightly against your throat. You know she's right. It's why, despite all your whining about how much you don't want to learn, you still ended up in the home gym in this exact position.

In front of this mirror, sunlight glinting off it from the midday rays coming through the windows, Natasha annoyed behind you. You pick your head back up, tapping it lightly against her bicep with a little smirk.

"I'd probably be fine. Like I have been this entire time." Light sarcasm bleeds through every word.

You feel Natasha inhale deeply, her chest expanding against your back, before letting out a heavy sigh that brushes against the crown of your head. It's the quiet fear and worry in her eyes that finally makes you knock it off. That, and the fact that you've complained before every single technique she's tried to show you for the past thirty minutes.

"But since you insist…" you drawl out, softening your posture.

"I do insist," she responds, completely deadpan.

You give her a little grin through the mirror, matching her gaze. "Ready whenever you are."

"I've been ready for the past five minutes," she mutters under her breath.

Her expression shifts. The playful irritation vanishes, replaced by the cool, focused seriousness of an instructor. "Okay, I'm going to squeeze gradually since this is just to show you."

She pulls you closer, erasing the remaining space between your bodies until your spine is flush against her. She secures her arm more tightly around your neck, the crook of her elbow aligning under your chin, while her bicep and forearm lock against either side of your throat.

You drag your eyes up, your gaze immediately drawn to Natasha's face that's looking down at you with concentration. Even without her squeezing yet, the muscles of her arm are prominent, all of them viewable from the tank top she's wearing. Your gaze shifts.

Your breath catches in your throat, not from her pressing yet, but from how the two of you look in the mirror. You love giving Natasha control over you, over your body, but you had never given her control of your breathing before.

She's just trying to teach you something, you chastise yourself internally, clearing your head when you feel Natasha begin to squeeze.

Pressure builds on both sides of your throat, making breathing more difficult, but not impossible. Heat starts to build in your face as blood becomes trapped. Your hearing begins to become muffled as Natasha squeezes harder, her bicep and forearm pressed tightly against your neck.

"Okay, baby," Natasha says through the ringing in your ears, "I'm only going to do the full hold for a second, remember what I told you earlier."

And then the pressure reaches its height. Her arm presses painfully against the sides of your throat. That lightheaded, fuzzy feeling you get when you stand up too fast immediately washes over you, your vision beginning to narrow. Your heart beats rapidly, threatening to explode out of your chest.

But then, Natasha releases you, wrapping her arms around your waist and holding you against her. You slump forward, your breaths coming out ragged through your mouth, your body trying to regulate itself.

You knew you weren't in danger. It was Natasha after all. You expected to feel relief after she released you. But what you weren't expecting was the rush.

This is what you imagine being high feels like. The oxygen-rich blood rushing back to your head feels like it was injected with exhilaration. Your limbs tingle pleasantly, warmth rushing through the rest of your body.

The sounds of your own breathing finally register in your ears and the tingling begins to fade away. You tilt your chin up, meeting Natasha's observant gaze in the mirror. But most of all, you notice your own eyes, wide and bright. You hadn't even realized the corners of your lips were upturned.

"Are you okay, detka?" Natasha asks, staring at you seriously.

You school your features as the fuzziness completely fades away. What was that? you wonder, but you notice Natasha is beginning to look concerned.

You give her a wide smile. "I'm okay," you promise her, your voice a little scratchy. "Now, are you going to show me how to get out of it?" you ask, straightening your posture. You lean your back against her and tilt your chin up, looking up at her playfully.

She looks down at you with a teasing smile. "I will, but can you try not to stall by complaining this time?"

She releases her arms from around your waist when she feels you wiggle against her. You turn around to face her, leveling her with a playful glare. "I wasn't stalling."

"Yeah, yeah," Natasha says sarcastically, turning around and waving her hand like she doesn't believe you.

She walks across the gym to grab her water bottle. You trail behind her, wanting to bother her a little more.

It's two steps in before you feel the uncomfortable stickiness in your panties.

—

It's a week later when you remember the way you felt during your self-defense training with Natasha. You had passed off the heat that you felt, deciding that it was probably just because of your close proximity to her. Life went on with you going to classes, finishing assignments, and meeting friends. All while missing Natasha, who was on a business trip for five days.

Or at least, it was supposed to be for five days.

"I just couldn't stand not being with my princess for any longer," Natasha breathes out against your lips, her hand tilting your chin up as she presses your back against the front door.

The cool wood of the door seeps through your shirt, making you shiver against her.

"I… I missed you," you murmur honestly, still in shock by her sudden arrival a day early. You meet her gaze with wide, innocent eyes as she rubs your bottom lip with her thumb. She's looking at you with so much affection that it makes your heart ache.

You wrap your arms around her waist, clutching the fabric of her blazer in your fists. She takes a step closer to you, if that's even possible, your head tapping softly against the door.

Her grip on your chin tightens. "I missed you too, baby girl. If only I could work from home all the time and keep you locked up here with me," she muses, looking up for a moment like she's actually thinking of a plan to make it happen.

She looks back down at you with an innocent smile, leaning her head down closer to you until your foreheads tap gently against one another. "But for now… I just want to spend time with my princess."

Her lips are just barely touching yours, the slight movement of her lips against yours making you want more.

"Natty…" you mumble against her lips, your eyes full of want.

You barely have time to blink before her lips capture yours in a searing kiss. Your head presses further against the door. The feeling of her lips melding with yours, her tongue pushing through the small gap between your lips, makes you feel lightheaded.

Her thumb hooks over your chin, forcing your jaw down to deepen the angle. Her other fingers spread across the side of your neck. The contact is light, but the heat of her fingers is immediate.

Her tongue wrestles with yours. It's a familiar game of dominance that you always play with her, even though you know you'll always lose. You feel her fingers press a bit harder against your pulse point the moment you try to fight back, sending tingles throughout your body. It's the same feeling from when you were in the gym with her a week ago.

She presses her tongue down against yours, finally winning the game. You feel the slight curve of her smile against your lips before she explores your mouth like a victory lap. You bite down on her tongue lightly. It's a silent, stubborn reminder that you aren't taking the loss lying down.

You feel her tongue pause its exploration, her breath brushing against your face as she huffs in disbelief. Suddenly, she shifts her leg between yours. Her free hand pushes you down by the shoulder, forcing your core flat against her knee as she follows your lips.

You gasp when the solid muscle of her thigh presses against your clit.

She begins to bounce her leg, releasing and returning the pressure over and over again. Natasha's lips leave yours for a moment, and the muffled moans previously hidden behind the kiss finally ring clear in your own ears.

"Natty…" you moan breathlessly, inhaling sharply when she bounces her leg a bit harder, driving your body down harshly against her thigh. "Need more," you whine, gazing up at her pleadingly. The few seconds of contact aren't nearly enough.

She raises a brow at you, her thumb dropping from your chin to the other side of your neck. "Then don't mess with me, baby," she growls before forcing her tongue into your mouth again.

Her hand grips your throat lightly, holding you in place. The slight pressure makes every breath just a bit difficult. Excitement courses through your body at the restriction, heat beginning to pool deep in your stomach.

You don't quite understand why, but you want Natasha to take more. You want her to hold your breath in her hands.

You release one hand from its grip on her blazer, sliding it up the arm that's holding your neck. You place your palm over hers, feeling the prominent veins in the back of her hand. Her fingers twitch at the unexpected touch.

Between the heat of her tongue and the tightening in your airway, your thoughts grow fuzzy. You press down on her fingers before you can think twice. Finding her thumb, you force it down against the other side of your throat—cutting off the oxygen more and drawing a strangled gasp from your lungs when you try to breathe in.

You feel the bounce in Natasha's leg pause, your full weight resting against her thigh when your knees buckle. Her fingers twitch, trying to release their grip on your throat, but you don't let her.

Her face pulls away from yours. Her expression morphs into puzzlement as she takes in your face. You hold her gaze even when your vision begins to tunnel at the edges.

You know she could easily break your grip and move her hand away if she wanted to. She knows it, too.

The sounds of your choked gasps begin to fade. You squint your eyes against the static forming in your vision.

Natasha's puzzled expression shifts, the corners of her mouth curving into a smile of disbelief. Her eyes dance with that familiar, dark amusement—the same look you've seen before when your body is trying to swallow a thick strap she bought.

Your grip on her hand loosens as your consciousness begins to slip. The moment your fingers fall away, Natasha releases the pressure, and your lungs force you to inhale sharply, desperately pushing oxygen through your body.

Your chest heaves as you slump forward, your forehead tapping against Natasha's chest.

You feel the blood begin to flow rapidly back into your head and limbs. The tingling in your fingers feels like sharp pinpricks, but the dopamine flooding your body along with the oxygen stops any real pain. The pressure of Natasha's thigh against your clit feels ten times more sensitive. Your body squirms against her to chase the friction before you even realize what you're doing.

Natasha gaze drops to your hips before her dark eyes lock back onto yours with certainty. A slow, knowing look crosses her face. Her body shifts slightly, and suddenly you hear her breath right against your ear.

"And here I thought I was the only crazy one," she murmurs, her hot breath sending pleasant shivers down the side of your body. Your soaking panties press uncomfortably against you, making you whine. You reach for her hand shakily, bringing it to the waistband of your pants.

"Off," you whine, your voice raspy but airy like you're in a dream.

Natasha leans back, you catch the tail end of her rolling her eyes before she raises a brow at you. She breaks your grip on her hand easily, moving both her hands beneath your thighs. She smacks the back of one of them lightly. Even with the light contact, it sends a jolt through your leg, making tears form in your eyes from how sensitive your entire body feels.

"You're not the one in charge here. Do you understand?" she grits out lowly.

You look up at her slowly, giving her that teary, apologetic pout that she loves. "Yes, sir," you mumble defeatedly.

She smacks your thigh again but a little harder this time, making you gasp and your eyes widen, a tear finally streaming down your cheek.

"That's Daddy to you."

Your lips jut out in a harsher pout. "You said only in the bedroom."

She leans back a bit more, hoisting you up. Your legs wrap around her automatically and you press your cheek against her shoulder, peering up at her. She raises a brow at you while turning around and walking further into the house.

"Where do you think we're heading?" she asks, amusement and arousal dancing in her eyes.

—

The sounds of your muffled, whiny moans echo through the bedroom. The wet, sticky sounds whenever Natasha drives her fingers into you make more of your arousal gush out around her hand.

You're face down, your cheek pressed against the silk sheets, your bottom up in the air as Natasha drives three fingers deep inside you over and over again relentlessly. Your ripped panties are strewn haphazardly next to your face, the rest of both your clothes thrown around the room.

Natasha couldn't help herself anymore the moment she'd carried you in here. She'd held the pieces of your panties up in front of you mockingly when she saw how soaked they were, telling you they were ruined anyways.

Her fingers curl perfectly against the soft, spongy spot inside you that she knows so well, making your fingers tighten around the sheets.

"D-daddy," you stutter out, moaning in between every syllable. "Gonna cum."

Her pace doesn't slow, rather, she rams her fingers even deeper, curling them at just the right moment as they retract. You shift your eyes until you can just make her out through your blurry, tear filled vision.

She has a wicked grin on her face, her gaze dropped low, watching her fingers go in and out of you. Her breaths quickening whenever you cry out when her fingers tap against the deepest part of you.

Her eyes drift to yours, her pupils so dilated, you can barely see the vibrant green you love so much.

"Look at you dripping all over the sheets. You couldn't just ruin your panties, huh? Had to ruin my sheets as well." You look down past your breasts. A thick string of your slick drools down your folds connecting to Natasha's expensive sheets, collecting there and darkening the fabric.

You close your eyes immediately, heat rushing up your neck to your cheeks. Natasha laughs behind you, her pace slowing slightly but making sure the tips of her fingers drag at just the right spots. You turn your head, muffling the cry that's forced out of your mouth when she uses her other hand to press a fingertip against your clit and drag it around.

She begins to circle your clit faster, her fingers driving into you following suit. The heat in your body spreads, concentrating around where she's touching you. The feeling of her touch only grows more sensitive, your insides throbbing against Natasha's fingers and tightening whenever she hits deep, like your body doesn't want to let her go.

"Cum whenever, baby. But just know, Daddy's not done with you," she informs you with an amused lilt, her voice a little breathless. The promise of what's to come makes the tension in your lower tummy grow, the heat becoming molten. All you can feel is her fingers stretching you out, her fingertip playing with your sensitive nub.

It only takes a few more thrusts of her fingers until the coil inside of your tummy shatters into pieces. Your bottom trembles against Natasha's bare torso as she releases your clit, placing her hand on your hip and pulling you back against her then away, her fingers moving in and out of you at the movement.

"Daddy s-stop," you force out, your voice shaking when Natasha continues, your body becoming overly sensitive. Her fingers dig into your hipbone.

"My baby girl wants to stop?" she asks sympathetically. It only lasts for a moment before the edge in her voice returns. "That's funny when you're the one who won't let me go." Your cheeks flush when you realize how tightly your walls are holding her fingers in place. You whine into the sheets when Natasha lets out a bright laugh.

"Fine fine," she says with a sigh, acting as though she's conceding. She wiggles her fingers out from your tight hole with effort, bringing her sticky fingers to your other hip.

"But it's Daddy's turn now," she announces suddenly, not giving you a moment before she flips you onto your back.

Your eyes blink open in surprise, drifting up Natasha's naked body to her face. She doesn't meet your eyes. Her gaze is lower, settling just below your chin.

"I guess everyone will know you're mine," she murmurs, her eyes darkening. "How could they not, when the imprint of my hand is right here on your neck?"

The corners of her lips curve into a satisfied smirk.

Your hand finds its way to your neck, your fingertips brushing against the sensitive skin where she held you earlier. The feeling makes a bolt of thrill shoot down your throat to your lower tummy, igniting the flames all over again.

Your breaths quicken as Natasha easily lifts one of your legs, placing it over her shoulder and exposing your core completely. She leans forward, driving your leg back closer to your torso. Her hand finds its way between your breasts, right over your sternum, resting her palm heavy against your skin.

"Ah!" you cry out at the unexpected sensation of Natasha pressing her clit against yours. It feels more sensitive then when she had been circling it earlier, the coil in your tummy tightening again. You try to squirm away, but she only shifts closer, pressing her hand harder against your chest, effectively holding you in place.

Your breathing becomes labored as she begins circling her hips, the most sensitive part of you rubbing against hers in an agonizingly slow rhythm. You look up at Natasha, your eyes pricking with tears from the overstimulation.

Her face is flushed, her eyes wide, still glued onto your neck as if she's looking at a wonderful view rather than the splotchy marks on your neck. Maybe they're the same thing for her.

She thrusts her hips harder into yours, the pressure between your cores growing. You hadn't noticed outside of the sounds of your increasingly ragged breaths, the slick sounds coming from where she's pressed against you. Your eyes drift down, finally noticing her arousal sticking to the sides of her inner thighs. Her slick melds with yours, creating a sticky mess between you that makes her clit slide against yours easily.

"Fuck," Natasha groans, her eyes close for a moment as she rolls her hips against you. Her hands presses down harder against your chest, making it more difficult for your lungs to expand. She opens her eyes, the green in them mere slits as her other hand slides up to your neck, her thumb tracing the line of your throat with deliberate pressure.

"You think I didn't notice the look on your face in the gym a week ago?" she taunts, her fingers tightening slightly against your skin. "Those bright eyes, that excited smile on your face. And then at the door when you forced my fingers to press against your throat." Her voice begins to strain as the motion of her hips begins to stutter.

You let out a garbled cry when her clit slides against yours aggressively, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks at the overwhelming ache in your lower tummy, the coil threatening to snap at any moment. Natasha's looking down at you almost drunkenly, her hand around your throat, her palm pressing into your chest making it harder and harder to breathe. The pressure mounting in your head, your thoughts turning fuzzy along with your vision.

"Daddy… p-please," you choke out, your voice raw and strained against the pressure on your throat. You don't even know what you're asking for. For her to squeeze harder, for her to roll her hips more, or for her to let you cum.

You let Daddy decide.

And in true fashion, she does all three.

She leans her head in close to yours, her jaw clenched tight as her movements become erratic against you. Your airy moans, the sound of you struggling to take a breath, and you whispering "Daddy" despite it all, driving her crazy.

"Fuck, baby," she grits out. "You crazy girl. You're making Daddy go insane."

She looks down at your hazy eyes, her breaths just as ragged as yours despite her airway being clear. The sticky concoction of your arousal is spreading all over you—your folds, your clit, and your inner thighs. Your vision starts to fade slightly, the edges becoming fuzzy.

Suddenly, Natasha's head drops down beside yours. Her long, low moan is barely audible to you as she releases your throat and moves her hand off your chest, placing her palms on either side of your body instead. Her hips stutter against you, her clit sliding against yours then missing entirely at random intervals, making it hard for your body to keep up.

The rush you felt in the gym and at the doorway doesn't even compare. It's like a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away, your consciousness flickering despite the harsh breaths you take in and release. Your entire body trembles uncontrollably at the dizzying electricity flowing through you. It feels like you could float away from the sheer lightheadedness, your head completely empty as oxygen perfuses through your body like a drug.

Your limbs tingle, your breaths taking ages to slow. Natasha recovers faster than you. Her hand, still sticky with your slick from earlier, cups your cheek. Her finger taps against your skin at a steady rhythm, and your breathing slowly begins to match the beats.

The sound of both your breaths finally registers in your ears. You hadn't even noticed Natasha moving your leg back down. It rests flat against the mattress now, Natasha laying on her side and looking at you with a soft, satisfied expression. She doesn't stop her rhythm.

You blink slowly. The lingering shocks in your body begin to fade, though the surface of your skin remains hyper-sensitive. Natasha gently rolls you onto your side, scooching you closer until your ear is pressed flat against her chest. Her tapping stops, letting the steady thump of her heartbeat do the work of grounding you instead.

Your thoughts feel distant, like they're on a deserted island while you're floating on the sea.

You just want to be with Natasha.

You squish your cheek closer against her skin, wanting to feel her more. Her hand rubs your back soothingly.

"We can lie for a bit," Natasha murmurs quietly, using that soft tone she saves for when she thinks you're on the verge of sleeping. "But I'm going to have to bring you water soon."

You let out a raspy groan against her chest. You don't need water. You just need her.

You hear the rumble of Natasha's low chuckle against your ear. "I know you don't like it, crazy baby. But it's necessary." Her feet tangle with yours under the sheets. Her voice lights up with a teasing lilt. "And here I thought I was the kinky one."

You roll your eyes lightly, not having the energy to do anything more. She's definitely still the kinkier one.

"Hey, I felt that, you know," she teases. Then, her tone turns more serious. "I could tell you wanted me to, but I didn't squeeze that hard. We need to talk about it more."

"Mmm…" you moan in agreement.

She huffs out a laugh, her chest vibrating under your cheek. "I bet you weren't even paying attention during the self-defense lesson."

you can do this.

just put one foot in front of the other.

but as you stood across the street in front of the club, your eyes fixated on the purple neon sign above harry, who stood with his hands in his pockets at the doorway, your body refused to move.

there’s money to be made, y/n, c’mon. with the encouraging thought of bills in mind, your right stepped forward, and then hesitantly, your left followed.

with the image of wanda waiting at your apartment for you, you stepped off the curb and crossed the street from the shadow that cast over the pavement, and when you walked under a lamppost that illuminated over your head, harry’s gaze shot to you.

he smiled, eager to greet you. “hey, miss!”

you smiled softly at him in return, and when you stopped in front of the man, you adjusted your duffle bag on your right shoulder. “hi, henry. how are you?”

“oh you know me,” he shrugged. “how are you doing?” he asked casually. it made the small smile stay on your face; you needed normalcy, and henry was a kind distraction.

“i’m fine,” you uttered the lie with ease… fake it till you make it, right? “are there any customers in right now?” you asked.

two weeks had passed since your surprise run-in with victor at the club agatha had picked, and with the avoidant time that had passed, you felt like you were brand new, eighteen, and stepping through these doors all over again. but five years had gone by since you first started at ‘house of harkness’ and with a rise and fall of your shoulders, you told yourself you could do this.

“a good few,” henry replied, with a nod, and just as you were about to take that step through the doorway, he cleared his throat, and you looked at him again. “he’s, uh-” he shot you an awkward smile. “he’s not tried to get in since, you know? i haven’t seen him around either…”

with the return of anxiety brewing in your chest, all you could do was nod back at him. “good.” you simply responded, then with a turn of your head, you stepped through the foyer, through two sets of double doors, and then your gaze landed on a staff member sat at the reception desk; the music on the main floor echoed to your left.

“scarlet!” the girls eyes lit up as she pulled her gaze away from the book in her hands and smiled brightly at you. “you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

you laughed softly. “i’m back,” you intoned, then after a brief conversation, you smiled and told her you needed to go and get changed.

so, with your right hand around the strap of your duffle bag, you walked into the open area and turned left, and stepped through the opening at the end of the bar. without so much as a glance at which dancers were working tonight and which customers were keeping them company, you pulled open the changing room door with a sigh.

“scarlet!” to your surprise, agatha was standing close to it as you stepped in and let the door slowly shut behind you. then with a grin on her face, she moved forward and pulled you in for a hug.

a giggle fell from your lips when your shoes rose from the floor, and agatha briefly spun you around. “hey, agatha,” you breathed out as she placed you down, “why are you just standing in here?” all of the dancers were on the main floor, and agatha oddly stood alone in the lit changing room.

“I-” she looked down at her boots for a moment, and if it wasn’t for the smile on her face, you’d assume she was about to say something bad. “i was serving at the bar, then… i got a text from rio,” she answered, chewing nervously on her bottom lip.

oh my god, how could you forget? “shit, i’m sorry! with all this mess, i forgot you also had a crazy night at the club.” guilt hit you like a truck, and you stepped back from the bubble you were in with agatha.

“hey,” she cooed with a slight frown, “don’t worry about a thing. you needed a break, and i’m a grown woman… i can wait before kissing and telling.”

your eyes widened slightly; there was that good news you were hoping for. “kissing?” you smirked, then stepped past agatha to place your duffle bag on the white countertop that ran under the length of a large mirror mounted to the wall. “how promising,” and with the zip sounding, your duffle bag opened and you reached in to pull out your lingerie for the night.

it was your favourite red set that never failed to bring in money, but this time, you brought wanda’s black silk dressing gown to wear over it. “what does it mean for you two, then?” you asked, glancing up to make eye contact with her through the mirror.

she glanced down at the dark carpeted floor. “well, she…” a flush of pink then spread across the brunette’s pale cheeks, and your eyebrows raised at the sight; it wasn’t often you saw agatha like this. “she actually came back for me.”

“agatha,” you marvelled, your hands that held the redhead’s silk gown falling to your open bag. you let it go and turned around to face her. “that’s…” wow. “really romantic,” you smiled.

the news had made your chest feel a tad lighter, and with a turn back to your duffle bag, you put your lingerie and gown to the side and pulled your heels out. “i’m glad it’s worked out for you,” you added, and with the hateful thought of vincent sneaking into your mind, your hands gripped your heels and you knew you needed to get dressed and distract yourself with work. “i’ll just…” and you motioned your heels to her. “talk more later?” you gave her a soft smile.

agatha nodded her head. “of course, kid,” she replied. “i’ll see you out there.”

ᗢ

two weeks out of heels was a sore mistake, and as your body moved in front of a customer in one of the vip booths, you tried to ignore the ache you were starting to feel after three hours of wearing them.

as your hands snaked down to your waist, they then travelled to your ass, and with a squeeze, the man groaned behind you.

“you’re so good at this…” he breathed. “i understand now why you’re so popular.”

your gut tightened at the words. the all-too-familiar ones that made your hands pause on the swell of your ass. “well, you’re quite the popular one in here, aren’t you?”

you felt your palms dampen, and as your music boomed out of the mounted speaker, you told yourself to focus on the beat that echoed. “i wouldn’t say that.” you replied, and your hands moved back to your waist. “all the dancers in here are great.”

“well,” the customer chuckled. “those dancers think otherwise. it’s the whole reason i’m in here right now; they would not stop praising you.”

if it wasn’t for your stomach twisting with anxiety, you’d feel happy that you had created such a reputation for yourself, even if it had landed you in this mess. “well, you’re quite the popular one in here, aren’t you?” you shook your head slightly, hoping it would throw victor’s voice from your mind and into one of the mirrors on the walls of the booth.

“that’s sweet,” you uttered, then turned around to face him. your eyes glanced over his form: blonde, tall, arms bigger than your head, and clothes that were slightly too tight for him. maybe that was a choice, you thought. “and i wondered why you didn’t want to test my dancing out with a shorter one. your mind must have been made up.”

“it still is,” he purred back. “would you-?” he placed his hands on his knees, rose from the seat, and as your breathing hitched, you felt your heart dropped to your stomach as he stood over you.

with the image of victor in your mind, you took a wobbly step back as you felt an indication of panic spreading through you.

the customer’s eyebrows furrowed, and he took a pace forward, holding his left hand out. “are you okay, scarlet?”

it was too familiar.

nausea swirled in your stomach, and with another step back, your aching feet almost got the best of you as you stumbled. the mirror behind saved you from falling onto the carpeted floor, and as the cool glass pressed against your back and palms of your hands, a soft gasp was knocked out of you.

the customer rushed to help, and with his hands reaching out to your aid, you held your right hand up. “i’m okay,” you breathed out, ignoring the déjà vu, before forcing yourself to stand upright. “i’m sorry, i-” fuck, that was mortifying. “you just startled me.”

“oh,” the customer replied, and his frown was replaced with a smile as he retreated slightly. “that’s my bad, i get that all of the time,” he chuckled, then he turned to the empty glasses on the small corner table. “being big has its cons just as much as pros.” he looked at you, then back at the glasses again. “i was going to ask if you wanted a drink, but after that, i feel like i owe you one.”

the man’s casual behaviour brought some ease to the booth, and as you felt the panic in you begin to fade, you took a deep breath and summoned a smile. “i won’t say no,” you replied with an airy chuckle, and stepped past him to sit down on the long seat.

the coolness of the leather felt grounding, and with your feet instantly enjoying the break from standing, you watched him turn around. then with a grin, he joined you, sitting to your right. “thank you. i’ll call for room service,” you added, and with that, your left hand reached for the small circle button near the zip-tied curtained doorway, and with a push, you turned to face him.

your hands moved to rest in your lap as the instrumental song from the speaker ended, and a rap song began to play. “oh, i love this one,” the customer beamed. he began to move in the seat to the beat of the music, and you laughed softly.

then, the thought that wanda liked it too crept into your mind, and you wondered what she was up to. with the conjured image of her comfortably waiting for you at your home, the panic in you finally subsided, and you could see her in your mind, sitting gorgeously on your couch-sofa, watching tv, or maybe reading a book. the thought made your heart soar, and as you waited for a waitress to come to the booth, you smiled with a “what other songs do you love?”

ᗢ

the quiet period of the night had begun, and as you sat at an empty table close to the bar, your eyes glanced forward to the curtained vip section next to the till. it had been an hour since your dance with sordid memories had ended, and the customer had since left along with the group he had come in with.

so now, with your phone in your hand, you relished the lack of heavy conversation that had previously filled the room, and with your gaze returning to your phone, you scrolled through the notifications you’d gotten from a few different apps.

with nothing of importance there, you moved on to look through your camera roll, and your eyes immediately shifted to a recent one; it was one you had taken of wanda.

though the quality was lacking, you didn’t mind. it made you smile as your eyes roamed over the redhead who stood in your kitchen, facing away from you, making two cups of tea. it was supposed to be a sneaky shot of her, but the overlooked camera shutter sounded on your phone, and the redhead, of course, heard it. the smile on wanda’s face when she turned her head to you gave you butterflies to even think of now.

the double doors before the reception till sounded as they opened and closed behind you, but you continued to look at thick red hair that cascaded over wanda’s back. i miss you, you mused.

“oh, hello,” a dancer voiced from the table to your right, and as you locked your phone on the image of wanda, your eyes briefly glanced to the dancer who rose from her chair, and then she walked behind you, clearly heading to a new customer.

with a lean toward the square table in front of you, you grabbed the glass of water you had resting on a napkin on with a raise to your lips, you took a sip from the straw.

“looking for a dance, honey?” the dancer’s voice sounded behind you, and as you put your glass down, you shifted in your chair to sit with your left leg crossed over your right.

“no… but thank you, i’m looking for someone.”

even with the main floor’s music playing from the speakers, you recognised her voice the second she spoke. you recognised that low tone of hers that drove you wild more times than you could count. wanda…? you twisted your torso to the right, and with a look behind you, a soft gasp fell from your lips. green eyes landed on you from where she stood, and wanda smiled.

with the excitement that bubbled inside from head to toe, you forced yourself to remain in your seat. though you wanted to rush over and hug her, you were at work, and here, wanda still needed to look like a customer.

“scarlet,” the redhead chirped with a nod to you.

this made the dancer turn in your direction. “oh” she laughed awkwardly, “my bad, girl.” then she shot you a lopsided smile as she stepped away from wanda. “she’s yours, i see.”

the response made a grin spread on your lips. the words meant more than the dancer knew, and as your eyes focused on the redhead, you replied, “yes, she is.”

with that, the woman returned to the seat she was in, and wanda walked towards you. you were struck with surprise, but your left leg automatically rose from the spot on your right thigh and slightly pushed back the chair closest to you.

“wanda i-” you chewed your bottom lip, watching her sit to your right, and then, with her hands on the arms of the chair, she adjusted its position. she wore a black suit jacket, turtleneck and trouser pants, and the urge to tell her she looked beautiful resided on the tip of your tongue. “i wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”

“i wanted to see how you were doing,” she replied, and she glanced around at the few customers on the main floor, clearly scanning for him. your heart leapt at wanda sitting in concern to the point of visiting you, and you beamed at her. “plus two weeks without a dance from you, i’m afraid it’s overdue,” she added, turning back to you.

you were both speaking discreetly, though you wondered if wanda meant those words, or if it was just for show… you were curious to find out, so as you grabbed your glass of water one last time, you took a sip. “you poor thing,” you feigned a pout as you placed it down again. “i guess we shouldn’t waste any more time then?” you were eager to be alone with her, talk without feeling like ears were lingering on your conversation, and a booth was plenty of space to do as you wished.

“i was hoping you’d say that.” wanda grinned, glancing behind to the dance till, then she rose from her seat, and you bit your bottom lip gently at her eagerness. you suppose she did mean what she said… “come on, you can pick how long we go for.”

ᗢ

upon entering the booth, a feeling settled in your chest; though you couldn’t quite pinpoint it, the energy felt different this time around.

the dances before had been filled with nothing but desire and lust, but those feelings had since transformed into something more, and with the dynamic change came an undertone of familiarity that needed to remain hidden.

your heels dug into the carpet as you stood in front of the seat, waiting for wanda to sit down, but she remained firm to your right, and as her shadowy form stood in front of the half-zip-tied curtain, you cocked your head at her. were her words just for show? you were confused. “are you not going to sit?” you asked, stepping closer to her with your right hand moving to hers.

wanda grasped your hand, pulling you closer, and the distance between you shortened until her chest pressed against yours.

wanda looked down at your cleavage that peeked through the neckline of her gown and her left hand trailed over the skin below your neck, then the silk of the dressing gown. “stealing mommy’s things, are we?” she smirked, and her hand continued down to your stomach, then her palm rounded your torso and rested flat against your lower back. “it looks good on you.” her hand, firm against you, made your stomach swirl with arousal - a reaction wanda could never fail to pull from you.

you ignored the thought that her hands shouldn’t be on you, and looked at her plump lips. “yes, i-” your cheeks felt hot, but under the purple fairy lights, you knew the redhead couldn’t see the way your skin flushed at her demeanour. “thank you,” you replied. “sorry i didn’t ask, i just thought it would make me feel better.”

wanda smiled, and to your surprise, she placed a brief kiss on your left cheek, and then suddenly her hand wasn’t on you anymore, and she moved to take a seat. you missed the warmth that came from her, but you were glad wanda decided to sit down; her touch had you wishing she would rid you of your lingerie.

“has it made you feel better?” she asked, and with her question bringing you out of your thoughts, it hit you that you had yet to connect your phone to the speaker.

“you always make me feel better,” you answered, and the look on wanda’s face made you want to forget about the music and just straddle her there and then. “i’m glad you’re here,” you added as you reached for the cord hooked to the speaker. “it’s been a little difficult.”

wanda watched you plug the cord into the bottom of your phone, and as you busied yourself with starting a fifteen-minute timer, you felt the fingers of wanda’s left hand move to the inside of your thighs. “how so, baby?” she whispered, and your eyes closed briefly at the feeling. she was halfway up your thighs, and halfway before the heat that radiated between your legs. “i want to hear about it.”

“some things reminded me of him during a dance, and i…” you shook your head; you didn’t want to think of victor. especially not with wanda here, and especially not with her fingers touching the soft skin of the inside of your thighs. “actually, let’s forget about it,” you uttered, and with the timer starting, your thumb swiped to your music app and pressed shuffle on your usual playlist.

an instrumental began to play, and a slow beat sounded from the speaker. wanda’s hand remained still, and when you locked your phone and placed it on the small high ledge that ran the length of the seat, you looked down at her.

green eyes bore into you, and your thighs flexed against her hand at the eye contact. her gaze was deadly, the type that made you feel small and important at the same time. she’s beyond beautiful.

“if that’s what you want,” wanda replied, “though i’m here for you,” she added, and with a smile on your lips at the words, you pushed away the urge to kiss her. then, your hands moved to the silk tie around your waist. “wait,” the redhead whispered, her hand softly gripping your left thigh. “keep my gown on.”

jesus. you felt arousal swirl in your stomach at her command, and your hands moved away from your waist to behind your back, obeying in an instant. you bent at the hips, and with your thighs clamping her hand, you leant close to her left ear. “anything for you,” you uttered, and with that, you straightened and took a step back.

an electric guitar entered the song, and with its sultry notes echoing, wanda shifted in the seat whilst her hands moved to the edge of the leather. the redhead’s eyes locked on you as she watched your hips begin to sway, moving perfectly to the beat.

with hunger for the woman driving you forward, you took a step and raised your left leg, then your heel dug into the leather seat beside wanda’s right hand, and her lips parted as your arms moved behind your back to the skin of your raised calf. as you looked down at wanda, your hands smoothly travelled upwards and over your knee, and then your left thigh.

your fingers ran over where wanda’s had just been, and you smiled as she licked her lips, watching intently as you continued to go higher, and with your left hand retreating to the outside of your thigh, your right hand moved to your underwear. wanda gasped at the sight, and when your fingers smoothed over your clit that was covered with a red thong, her right hand flew to your wrist.

despite the restraint, you continued to move your hand, and your mouth fell agape at the sensation. wanda’s eyes looked from your fingers to your eyes, and back to your fingers again; then she bit her bottom lip. “that’s cruel,” wanda spoke, and the smile on your face only got bigger.

you loved seeing the effect you had on her… that mental battle she’d spoken of before. something she hadn’t experienced until you. the thought of this grown woman feeling something so new and strong due to meeting you drove you wild, and the pads of your fingers put pressure on your clit.

“cruel?” you asked innocently, then your lips moved close to her left ear. “this is all a part of your special show, mommy,” you whispered, and you felt her exhale hotly against your cheek whilst her hand around your wrist tightened.

this time, the pressure halted your movements, and you felt your heart beat rapidly in your chest. with your right hand forced to remain still, you leant away from her ear, and your left hand moved from the outside of your thigh to your bra, then with a shift of the silk gown, you gently palmed the exposed swell of your left breast.

wanda groaned, and her eyes glanced from your wandering hands to your eyes again. “baby…” wanda’s hand that remained on the seat gripped at the edge of it. “if you don’t stop, i’ll get us both in trouble.”

the threat made your clit throb against your fingers, and they twitched at the feeling. you envisioned wanda becoming so frustrated that she holds you against the mirror behind you, shoves your thong to the side and pushes two of her slender fingers inside of you; you were certainly wet enough to take them with ease.

your imagination had your left hand moving down to cover wanda’s that remained around your wrist, and your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at her. you were no longer thinking about work or dancing, or thinking about making more money tonight. your head was filled with the woman in front of you and the way your body yearned to be touched by her. “please,” your left hand stroked the back of hers as you leaned closer. “take me home,” you whispered.

ᗢ

your keys jingled as you turned them in the keyhole, and a soft gasp fell from your lips as wanda palmed at your ass through your jeans as she stood behind you. you pushed the door open, and with a step through the threshold of your home, wanda urged you forward by her hands.

you giggled at the sudden action, then placed your keys on a small wooden table and flicked on a few light switches before turning to face her. “did the spare key work okay for you?” you asked as the doorway lit up and a ceiling light between the kitchen and living room turned on.

wanda’s hands moved to hang by her sides, and with her right foot lifting upwards, she pushed the door, and it closed with a soft thud as her foot returned to the floor. “it did,” she smiled, “i used it a couple of times. when i went to get some wine and snacks, and then when i left to see you.”

you beamed at her, and with your left hand going to your right foot, you started to remove your shoes. “wine and snacks sound nice,” you replied, and you watched wanda mimic you.

“we’ll have them soon,” wanda said as she put her shoes neatly to the side. “i have a surprise for you first.”

“oh?” you sounded, and although sceptical of what it could be, you couldn’t help but smile. “and i thought the wine was surprise enough.”

“this one is much more exciting.” wanda stepped toward you, and with your right foot, you pushed your shoes to the side near wanda’s, and her left hand took your right.

she walked you through the doorway, past your kitchen, and as you both walked through your living room, you realised you were heading for your bedroom. “can i have an idea?” you asked, and as the closed door grew closer, you felt your heart rate spike at the ominous nature and what she had planned for you.

“it’s actually something of yours,” wanda answered, and although thankful she gave you a hint, you were even more confused. something of mine? “i hope you don’t mind…” the redhead added. “i came across it by accident.” her right hand twisted the knob, and she pushed your bedroom door open. “it’s on the bed for you.”

puzzled, you took a step forward, then with a flick of a switch, your room lit up, and your eyes immediately looked to your neatly made bed. oh. you swallowed hard as your eyes landed on a harnessed dildo that you hadn’t used for quite some time, placed delicately in the middle of your duvet. wanda let your hand go, and raised hers to your hips, and with a soft squeeze, she urged you forward.

as she guided you towards your bed, your eyes focused on the red dildo, and a knot in your stomach began to form at the notion of wanda wearing it.

“in my favourite colour, too…” wanda purred behind you, “it’s perfect.”

your eyes shuttered closed at her voice low in your ear, and your heart beat wildly in your chest. “fuck,” you uttered. words felt beyond you as your mind ran a mile a minute, and all you could do was open your eyes and lean across the bed to pick it up. as you held the harness in your hands, the straps hanging loosely, you bit your bottom lip as you looked at it.

with wanda’s hand remaining on your hips, you turned in her hold and glanced from her dilated pupils to the harness again. “yes, please,” is all you could express, and with a pleased grin from wanda, your clit throbbed as she took it from you.

“clothes off, honey.” the redhead ordered, and with your hands excitedly reaching for the maroon jumper you wore, her eyes fixated on you as you exposed the skin of your stomach, and then your chest that was still covered by the bra you chose to wear for work. wanda hummed as she continued to watch you undress. “you’re gorgeous.”

your hands removed your bra, and as your face grew hot from the compliment, you unbuttoned your jeans. being under her gaze felt so good; she made you feel confident beyond expression.

after stepping out of your jeans, you watched wanda place the harness on your bed, and her hands removed the jacket, turtleneck and trouser pants she wore.

she soon stood in a black set, and as your eyes trailed over her form, you licked your lips. “coming from you, mommy,” you breathed out. “…your body is amazing.”

wanda smiled at you, and your mind reeled at the sight. “my sweet girl,” she cooed, and with a step out of her trousers on the floor, she moved closer to you and placed a kiss on your lips. “how do you like it?” she asked, reaching for the harness once more to step into it, and as she tightened the straps around her hips and below the swell of her ass, a mix of a gasp and a moan fell from your lips.

she looked unbelievable, and you were so wet already… with your mind filled with wanda putting you in all kinds of positions, you searched for one to pick.

the mental image of her on top of you made the knot in your stomach tighten, and with wanda’s head rising to look at you, you stepped closer to her as your hands moved to the back of her neck and your lips craved to touch hers. the tip of the dildo pressed against your stomach, and you leaned in to kiss the older woman as your brain turned to mush at the feeling. you needed her now.

wanda’s hands moved around you, and when you deepened the kiss, she groaned into your mouth. the noise drove you crazy, and you wondered what she’ll sound like when she’s fucking the strap-on into you.

with that in mind, you pulled away and stepped to the edge of the mattress. “i want you on top of me,” you answered, and as you shifted to sit on your bed, you moved yourself to the middle of it.

the redhead bit her bottom lip and followed you like a moth to a flame, and as you propped yourself on your elbows, you watched wanda grab two of your pillows, and she placed them under your head. “thank you,” you whispered, a soft smile on your face as you situated yourself against them.

“i’ve been looking forward to this since i found it,” wanda voiced, returning your smile, and her hands moved to your knees to spread them.

your body tingled with excitement as she moved between your legs, and with the tip of the dildo prodding against the thong you wore, a surprising whimper came out of you. you had never felt so desperate for her, and you knew the wetness that coated your folds was going to be the indicator for wanda that your body ached for this.

“fuck, i-” you choked out as her fingers pulled your underwear to the side and brushed against you. “mommy…” you breathed, looking down to see your folds slick and shining. you bit your lip, and the redhead glanced at your face before looking back at the sight of you ready for her.

“wow,” wanda marvelled, “honey…” and her right hand moved up your body to palm your right breast. “i’ve never seen you so wet.” your back arched slightly when her fingers pinched your nipple, and a soft moan fell from your lips. “that’s so fucking hot,” wanda added as her left hand moved to brush against your folds, and with a collection of your wetness on her fingers, she brought them to the tip of the dildo.

as you watched, your mind was spinning with the way wanda confidently handled the harness, and you just knew you were about to have the best sex of your life. she radiated such dominance and poise as she stroked it; it was like second nature to her.

wanda’s hand stopped its precise movements on the dildo, and with her wet fingers moving back to enter you, your hand softly wrapped around her wrist.

“i’m ready, mommy,” you uttered, and your breath grew heavy as wanda’s fingers ghosted your folds. “please,” you begged, “i need you to fill me up.”

wanda practically growled at this, and with her hand retreating from you, she grasped the dildo and moved closer until the back of your thighs touched the top of hers.

wanda’s fingers twisted at your right nipple again, the sensation travelling down to your clit as you moaned, and with the tip of the dildo now against you, your body quivered as wanda guided it through your folds and up to your clit.

with another moan from you, wanda slowly fucked the dildo into her hand, and with every stroke, it deliciously glided over your clit. your breaths grew heavier, and you grasped at the duvet under you, scrunching the cotton material in your hands as you continued to watch the redhead.

“you look so hot,” you gasped out, and a smile twitched at wanda’s lips as her eyes focused on the view between your legs.

after a few more pleasure-filled strokes against your clit, wanda guided the tip down, and as she inched closer, you gasped as your hole throbbed around nothing; it was astonishing how turned on you were. though it was no surprise that wanda would be the person to get you to that point. the older woman had you bewitched and wrapped around her finger, and your body reacted to her every touch in a way that you didn’t understand. but, you didn’t want to... all that it told you was that you were meant to be touched by wanda.

your mouth fell agape as the tip of the dildo ghosted your hole, and with another whimper and a desperate “please,” you fell back against the stacked pillows as wanda inched the tip inside of you. then with another twist of your nipple, you felt yourself contract around the head. no, not yet… you could feel it building up, and as you closed your eyes, you told yourself to wait.

the pace of wanda’s hips was slow and steady whilst she looked down, and as she watched the dildo start to disappear, she groaned and bit her bottom lip. “you’re taking mommy so well,” wanda expressed, and the words did you no favours in staving off your orgasm that threatened to snap.

with a moan, you focused on the delicious stretch and willed away the building sensation. “fuck,” you gasped out, her fingers on your nipple pinched harder than before, and with the feeling of her sinking inside of you, your hands pulled at the duvet. then, the sensation of wanda almost flush against you made you mewl, and you contracted around the dildo again. wait…

“such a good girl,” wanda purred, and with your eyes falling closed, your clit throbbed at the praise.

the pleasure heightened tenfold when you felt her tongue swirl around your other nipple, and as you moaned out at the feeling, she took it in her mouth and sucked softly. then, wanda’s left hand moved to the back of your left thigh, and with another swirl of her tongue around your nipple, her hips began to move.

as your eyelids fluttered open, you looked down to see a glimpse of the crimson dildo exiting and entering you, and with a gutterel moan, you gazed at wanda, her face against your chest as red hair cascaded over your skin.

you couldn’t believe your eyes, and if it wasn’t for the tip of the dildo hitting against your g-spot that sent pleasure throughout your whole body, you’d assume you were dreaming. “mommy,” you choked out, and your left hand flew to her back as her tongue swirled expertly around your nipple again.

with your palm flat against pale skin, wanda groaned and raised her head from your chest to look at you. then, the hand that was on your right nipple moved to your jugular, and with a flex of her fingers, you felt your head press deeper into the pillows. you moaned at the pressure, and with a harder thrust of her hips, wanda began to hold you down by your neck.

the orgasm you were fighting to hold off was becoming too much to bear, and with your nails scratching at wanda’s back, you felt yourself pulse and contract around the dildo. the older woman’s thrusts were deliberately slow and deep, and with her movements, you felt your stomach twist; you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

your thighs began to shake, and with your right hand moving to your clit, you moaned loudly. “you’re gonna make me cum, oh god,” you proclaimed whilst your fingers rubbed in small circles.

wanda’s eyes dropped to your hand between your legs, and a gasp and a moan fell from her plump lips. “fuck, y/n,” she uttered lowly.

her hand on the back of your thigh hardened, and with a squeeze to your neck, your orgasm hit you hard…incredibly hard, and your eyes clamped shut, and your back arched from the bed again as you began to moan and convulse under wanda.

the redhead watched in amazement, her thrusts remaining the same, and as she fucked into you, they grew restrained as your walls tightened and throbbed around the dildo. wanda didn’t let this stop her, though, and as she watched you cum, her hips moved against you until the scratching on her back ceased and your shallow pants grew normal.

your eyes soon fluttered open, and with green eyes looking down at you, a blissful smile spread on your lips. “fuck,” you croaked out, and as you cleared your throat, your hand on her back stroked softly against the pale skin. “you’re so good.”

wanda panted above you, and with a shift deeper inside of you that made you groan, she leaned down to kiss you. you immediately reciprocated, and gasped into her mouth when wanda’s hips moved as she deepened the kiss. then, as the throbbing around the dildo subsided, you pulled away to look at the older woman.

“i already want to do that again,” wanda professed breathlessly.

the smile on your face widened, and you wanted to hit yourself for forgetting about such a toy, one that had been tucked away in one of your chests of drawers and gone unused. you hadn’t even begun to feel the high of your orgasm leave you, and like wanda, you couldn’t wait to use it again.

“me too, mommy,” you replied. the feeling of her still inside of you made you feel dizzy with arousal, and you knew you’d miss the feeling as soon as you spoke again, but you wanted to make wanda feel as good as she just made you feel. “but, before we do…”

ᗢ

as she exhaled smoke from her lips, agatha flicked the end of her cigarette and watched the ash fall to the pavement. it was a habit she had long since broken, but agatha was no saint, and every once in a while, she would treat herself to an “emergency cig” - tonight, the emergency was boredom.

you weren’t working to keep her company, and with only a handful of dancers in the building who preferred to sit huddled on chairs near a large radiator due to the cold that crept into house of harkness, she settled for a cigarette to save her from the surprisingly quiet night.

although it was a weekday - which wasn’t always the best for strip clubs - agatha, without fail, received regulars and lone newcomers who just so happened upon the purple neon sign. but tonight was oddly sparse of customers, and her patience was wearing thin.

“i think tonight will be an early close, harry.” agatha voiced, and as her trusted friend stood behind her in the doorway of the club, she took another drag and watched as smoke swirled in front of her before drifting away.

“it has been two hours since our last customer…” harry supposed, and he clicked his tongue, “i wouldn’t say no.”

with another exhale, agatha chuckled. “i bet you wouldn’t,” she quipped. “there’s someone named jack daniels waiting for you, isn’t there?”

harry’s laugh sounded behind her, and as she continued to look out onto the street and at the dark buildings that faced her, he spoke again. “hey! you know i stopped that ages ago.”

agatha turned her head to him, a small smirk on her lips. “just like i’ve stopped smoking?” she asked.

harry shot her a knowing look. “well, it’s called a treat for a reason,” he responded with a shrug, and with a proud nod, agatha returned her gaze to the street.

“that’s my harry,” she smiled, taking another drag before flicking the cigarette onto the pavement, and as she blew out the smoke, she watched it bounce and land in the road. then, with an unearthly feeling creeping in, her attention snapped to the shadow that lay across the other side of the street on the pavement.

agatha felt her gut twinge with the sense of being watched, and as she continued to look, her eyes focused on the patch of darkness, scanning for something. because she always trusted her gut immediately, and the sensation only grew stronger as the seconds ticked by.

then, with a soft gasp escaping her lips, she watched a tall figure step off the curb and move across the road, which looked like a sea of black as it illuminated the remnants of rain under the night sky. the figure was about to step under the lamppost and reveal themselves under its light, and as agatha waited with bated breath, a daunting thought hit her.

then, the sight of harsh light falling on a dark green suit solidified her contemplation, and agatha watched as victor stepped onto the pavement, a grin on his lips.

“now if i were the police, you’d be fined for that,” victor chuckled, his eyes glancing to the end of agatha’s cigarette that lay wet in the road.

at the unexpected voice of a man, harry stepped out of the doorway and stood close to agatha, and as she heard his nostrils flare upon seeing the suited man, she held a hand up, beckoning him to wait.

agatha let her hand fall back to her side, and as she eyed victor, she tilted her head as she felt anger slowly building in her chest. but, with the relieving thought close to her that you weren’t working tonight, she ignored the urge to shout. to scream. to tell this man to leave you alone or she’d make him regret it. “you’ve got some nerve showing up here,” she snorted, folding her arms.

victor chuckled once more and took a step closer until he was standing roughly five feet away from her, and although the action from the tall man wanted to make her take a step back, agatha wasn’t one to back down. she remained firm in where she stood, eyeing him like a hawk.

“three weeks of staying away? that’s a feat for a man like me,” victor responded.

agatha frowned at that and, with a glance at the man’s form, she asked, “and what kind of man are you?”

“an impatient one,” he answered with a smile, and his hands slid into the pockets of his emerald trousers. “do you know how irritating it's been to watch them from the sidelines?”

agatha felt a wave of sickness wash over her, and she frowned harder. watch from the sidelines? “you’ve…” and her right hand balled into a fist that she quickly unclenched. “you’ve been watching her? all this time?”

victor’s smile grew wider, and all agatha could think of was that she needed to talk to you… or better yet, wanda.

a push of breath came from behind, and then in a flash, harry moved past her and stepped to the edge of the step in front of the doorway. “you’ve got one chance to walk away,” he warned, and despite the panic that rose in her upon henry stepping forward, his tone was surprisingly calm; she half expected him to yell, just as she wanted to.

with her eyes glancing between harry and victor, the brunette readied herself. she would be an idiot not to. you never get between two men fighting, and if victor, or, to her dismay, harry, threw a punch, she would need to get out of the way, and fast.

but, with the hopeful thought that the man beside her would remain calm and keep his eyes focused on any slight movements from victor, she stood steadfast in front of your tormenter.

victor smiled at harry with a tilt of his head; something that felt antagonising coming from him. “you were more friendly the last time i saw you,” he quipped, and with his hands remaining in his pockets, agatha’s eyes lingered on them, ready for them to move an inch. “harold, isn’t it?” then he turned to face the brunette. “and you’re agatha.”

harry shifted on his feet, clearly irritated that victor knew his name, and although agatha empathised, she supposed this man was capable of anything, and figuring out a name must be nothing to him. “how do-”

“don’t be alarmed,” victor interrupted with a look at harry and a wave of his right hand. “knowing your names is just simply curiosity. i don’t care about you,” he looked back at agatha, “or you.”

the brunette’s face contorted in confusion, “you care enough to know who we are.”

“you are in y/n’s life, so of course.”

to agatha, victor didn’t need to initiate anything physical, because speaking your name was enough of a punch to the gut. a punch that made her feel sick and her body tingle. “you know her real name?”

with a grin and a proud look flashing across his face at agatha’s stunned demeanour, he nodded. “i wonder why she chose scarlet…?” he mused. “do you know?” victor asked her. then, with no response from agatha, he faced harry. “how about you?”

there was nothing but stunned silence, and he sighed. “you’ve both known her for quite some time; i’m disappointed,” victor tutted.

as agatha’s hands balled into fists, she pushed away the side of her that held back the anger, and with a move off the step that startled harry, she stepped towards victor.

in agatha’s peripheral, she saw harry move to stand beside her, his stance ready. with a passing thankful thought that he trusted her to handle her own, she stood firm… despite the adrenaline coursing through her and the fury she felt towards victor’s sickening interest in you.

agatha ignored the fact that the man loomed over her, and with gritted teeth, she raised her arm and pointed to the right. “get the fuck away from my building.”

“ooo,” victor elongated, and as he licked his lips, he glanced down at agatha’s body. the way he looked at her made her face transform in disgust, and as she lowered her pointed hand, his dark eyes looked at hers again. “i’ve always had a thing for assertive women… you remind me of her, you know? minus the red hair.”

his reaction was the exact opposite of what agatha expected from victor. she thought he would challenge her, maybe take a step back… anything. but flirting? the man’s level of confidence was astounding, and it took her a second before she responded. “i don’t want you, and neither does wanda.”

“oh,” victor chuckled darkly. “wanda and i have more history than you could know. she’ll come back to me eventually, but that whore in the way is certainly a problem.”

agatha hadn’t realised what she’d done until she felt hot pain flash against her palm, and as she watched victor’s head spin to the left, she looked to her right hand and felt a throb through it. “jesus,” harry uttered, and though she didn’t turn to look at him, the brunette knew he looked as shocked as she did.

when victor’s hands slipped out of his pockets, agatha wondered if she had just started something she definitely couldn’t finish. then, when he laughed with a hand rising to touch his reddening cheek, she didn’t know whether to feel reassured or petrified.

“you are just full of surprises, agatha.” victor smirked, looking at her with such a glint in his eye that she knew he was enjoying and feeding off of the conflict. “i’ll let you have that one; I’m not here to fight.” he then looked between agatha and harry and clapped his hands together, making the brunettes shoulders jolt. “well, as riveting as this has been, i have matters to attend to.” victor nodded at harry with a smirk, and with a glance back at agatha and a step away from her, he winked. then, without another word from him, he walked in the direction agatha had pointed to.

with victors broad shoulders and back growing distant in her view, she watched him saunter away until his figure disappeared with a left turn onto another street.

agatha let out a shaky breath and, as she slowly faced harry, the brunette felt the pulsing in her right hand beginning to subside.

Wanda’s eyes dip lower, to the parts of you the blanket doesn’t conceal—the slope of your shoulders, the hollow of your throat, the shadow of your breasts. Here Wanda’s mind strays naughty as she can’t help thinking that she’d know exactly how it would taste if she were to suck one of those perfect breasts into her mouth right now.

Her thighs squeeze together, and it’s a telltale sign that she needs to stop perving and get out of this bed. But first, she reaches out to tuck a strand of hair ever so gently behind your ear. Then, she presses a lingering kiss to the center of your forehead. Grinning as she stands from the bed, Wanda pulls on a sea foam-green sill bathrobe on her way out the door.

Wanda wears that smile all the way down the stairs and into the vast kitchen. There are only two things on her mind as she moves around pulling out ingredients—you and pancakes.

Wanda works diligently, humming a Fleetwood Mac song under her breath as she whisks together eggs, milk, pancake mix, and a dash of cinnamon. Before long, the hiss of a pan and the decadent smell of hotcakes fills the kitchen. Wanda is so in her element that she doesn’t even feel your presence until you’re right behind her.

She’s jolted when your arms go around her waist, but then she relaxes into your touch, the feeling of your front pressed to her back.

“Well, that just won’t do. No one’s ever been able to sneak up on me,” Wanda drawls.

You smile into her skin, kissing the back of her neck. “Well, maybe you just need to stay a little more vigilant, Miss Maximoff,”

Wanda shivers. Never had she liked being called by her last name so much.

Wanda turns in your arms to get a good look at you. You’re dressed in gray baseball t-shirt and little else, simple black cotton underwear peeking from beneath the shirt’s hemline. Wanda licks her lips and pulls your body flush against hers.

“Goodness, you just look so delectable,” she purrs. “What am I gonna do with you, sweet thing?” Wanda’s hands are already on your hips before you can respond. She turns you, backing you against the corner of the counter.

“Hop up here for me,” She commands softly, and you listen, jumping up and letting her shift you back onto the countertop and stand between your legs.

“Baby,” Wanda hums, her warm breath fans your neck and you suddenly feel the need to clench your own thighs together. “You look good enough to eat,”

“So eat me,” you whisper back.

Wanda doesn’t need to be told twice. A wicked gleam flashes in those green eyes as she lowers herself to her knees, kissing her way down your thighs as she goes. You open up for her without being asked, a sigh falling from your lips. Wanda’s breath ghosts over your center, an index finger on the edge of your panties to move them out of the way, and just when you think she’s about to give you everything, she pulls back and stands to her feet.

You whine, squirming for her. “Come back,”

“Not yet, sweet thing,” Wanda chuckles, her voice a touch husky. “Don’t wanna burn our breakfast,”

Another pitiful sound stirs in your throat, but Wanda merely brushes a kiss on your temple, pats your thigh consolingly and steps back to the stove, flipping over a perfectly golden brown pancake just in time.

For the most part, breakfast goes off without a hitch—the two of you occasionally feeding each other bites, you complimenting Wanda’s perfect pancakes, Wanda dabbing whipped cream on your nose just to kiss it away. Wanda hadn’t even realized that her mask seemed to have slipped again until you tilted your head at her.

“Seriously, Wanda, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” You ask, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

Wanda sighs. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to be present with you, I absolutely do. But…my mind is stuck on last night,”

You exhale softly. “Yeah. Mine is too,” you search Wanda’s eyes, suddenly panicked. “You’re not…regretting anything, are you?”

“Oh, baby, no. No, no, of course not,” Wanda is quick to reassure you. “I don’t regret anything about last night or what we did. It was so special to me, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, searching Wanda’s face. “It was special to me too,”

“Good,” Wanda smiles, then cups your face. “It’s just that…” she tries again. “Well, you know that my feelings for you were absolutely premeditated and…well, I know that at the end of the day, you’re still married,” she exhales slowly, meets your eyes again. “And I don’t want to make anything harder for you than it already is,”

“No,” you shake your head. “You’re not making anything harder, Wanda. I’ve been wanting this, wanting you, for…I don’t even know how long. I’ve never been so sure about someone or something in my life,”

“But baby—“

“Remember what else we said last night?” You ask, kissing one corner of Wanda’s mouth and then the other. “That just for this weekend, we could just pretend? Not worry?” You repeat the cycle, kissing the left corner, then the right again.

Wanda’s lids flutter as she leans into the touch. “Yes,” she breathes. “I remember,”

You lace your fingers through both Wanda’s hands. “Then get lost with me, Wanda. That’s all I want right now,”

In a second, Wanda is on you. And just like last night, she absolutely devours you right there in the kitchen. All of your senses are heightened and your tongue hangs out of your mouth, eyes rolling back into your head. You grip the corners of the table for purchase, moan after moan trickling from your mouth as Wanda’s expect tongue works magic inside you.

The two of you remain in that cozy bubble right up until Monday. You take trips back out to the lake together. You explore the little shops in the downtown area, hand in hand whilst browsing cute trinkets, imagining which ones would look good in your home, with neither one of you touching on the fact that you live separately.

In the evenings after dinner, you lie snuggled up on the couch watching early-2000s romcoms. You make each other see stars over and over; eyes rolling back, bodies rocking together; white-knuckle grips on the matters as you lose count of the amount of times you’re taken to ecstasy.

On Sunday night, the air cools your skin after another thorough love-making session. Wanda holds you in her arms, watching as the silver light from the window dances across your skin.

“Wanda?” You speak up, your voice coming through soft and sleepy.

“Mm, yeah, honey?”

“Can you promise me something?”

Wanda’s heart fluttered. She’d promise you the world and then some, and she says just as much out loud.

“Can you promise me that we’ll always be this close? Even though the next couple weeks might be…difficult, weird. Nothing is gonna come between us?” You ask.

Wanda exhales slowly, months worth of tension easing from her shoulders. She cups the back of your head, lifts it to make eye contact. “I promise, baby love,” she whispers against your lips. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna change,” and then she’s kissing you, long and deep, and nothing else matters, nothing else exists except for the two of you.

Monday morning comes quietly. The two of you don’t speak much at first, just exchange polite smiles while you pack up your things. It’s inoffensive, but it does give Wanda’s mind space to wander again.

More comfortable silence follows on the drive back to town. The radio plays softly and Wanda holds your hand across the center console. But as she gets closer and closer to town, more dread lands like a stone in her chest.

The realization that you can’t just come home with her, that she’s still driving you back to your house, the one you still shared with a spouse. And she’d be going home alone, to her big empty house, doomed to have nothing and no one to hold when she went to bed that night. She’d gotten used to having a warm body next to her for the past three days, and now that it was being ripped away from her so suddenly, she didn’t know what to do with herself.

Wanda drops your hand over the center console just as she pulls up to the curb outside your house. And not a moment too soon with your spouse standing outside waiting for you. Wanda grits her teeth against a snide remark she promised herself she’d keep down as she pops the trunk for you to collect your things.

Wanda is out of her car a second later, ready to assist you, but your spouse beats her to it, moving toward the trunk of Wanda’s car to collect your things. She hovers awkwardly by the back door as she watches. She’s only half-listening to what ever your spouse is saying, until a few key words—“promotion”, “Vegas” and “opportunity to move” make her stand at attention.

“…a promotion, isn’t it great?” Your spouse was saying. “…gonna get the chance to take a brand new office down in Vegas!”

Wanda’s gaze darts to you, taking in your speechless expression. Your spouse, however, seems to interpret this as excitement, hugging you and sweeping you off your feet. Wanda’s jaw tightens at the display, but she quickly schools her gestures, clearing her throat.

“So, that’s it, then?” Wanda asks, trying to make her voice sound breezy, bordering on flippant. “New job, and you two are gonna just…move away?”

“Yup, Nevada,” your spouse beams, wrapping an arm around you waist. “Las Vegas! Won’t that be exciting, honey?”

Wanda’s gaze strays to you once again, expectant. There’s now a faraway expression on your face. Wanda silently wills you to disagree, to push back. But then, you simply smile, patting your spouse’s hand. “I think…we have a lot to discuss later. Okay?”

“Right, right,” your spouse waves their hand dismissively. “So much to talk about, but let’s not worry about that now. For now, I just wanna focus on the celebration. Next Friday. All our friends can come. And Wanda?” Your spouse turns toward Wanda. “Maybe you could bring over another one of those delicious pies you made for the watch party?”

Wanda plasters on a smile, to avoid saying they what she’d really rather prefer is for your spouse to shut their pie hole. But then, she makes the mistake of catching your gaze. She knew it wasn’t really your spouse she was saying yes to. She was saying yes to you.

“Yeah, sure,” she concedes. “I’ll see what I can scrounge together for your little shindig. And contests on the promotion, hon. Really.”

Wanda knew she had to leave soon. She could feel her nostrils flaring like a bull’s, and she didn’t know whether she wanted to charge at your spouse or you. So Wanda makes her excuses and leaves, but not before getting pulled into one of your tight hugs. Your body presses against hers, every single curve she has memorized, and she feels like she needs a cold shower. Or an afternoon alone at an ax-throwing arena.

It takes everything in Wanda to release you and climb back into her car. She watches your reflection diminish in the rear view mirror and as her fingers grip tight to the steering wheel, she doesn’t know whether she wants to cry right now or scream.

***

Four days go by without the two of you speaking.

Not for lack of trying—you definitely tried to reach out—but Wanda was still feeling bitter. Crabby because you’d said nothing when you spouse mentioned moving to Nevada. Because wasn’t that the same thing as agreeing? Agreeing that you wanted your spouse over Wanda? Wanda felt like she could be sick just thinking about it.

There was a part of her; particularly a part that didn’t exactly take center stage right now—the rational part of her—that knew she was jumping to conclusions, gettjng irrational herself. You’d frozen up, hadn’t known what to say. And here Wanda was being unfair and avoiding you over it.

Around seven in the evening, the doorbell rings. Wanda curses the interruption, since she certainly hadn’t been expecting or wanted guests. But when she opens the door, she finds you standing there, a desperate look in your eyes.

“…hi,” you breathe, shoulders slumping in relief or shame or maybe both.

“Uh…hi?” Wanda replies, confused. “What’s going on? When did you—“

She doesn’t get the chance to finish her sentence before she’s swept up into a deep kiss. Wanda stumbles back, but you hold her steady, kicking the door shut behind you. You press Wanda against the edge of her staircase. The blunt end digs into Wanda’s back, but she doesn’t care. Can’t care with your mouth on hers.

You kiss your way down Wanda’s body—her jaw, her collarbones, her chest. You kneel in front of her, fumbling with the zipper on her jeans. Wanda tilts her head back, chest rising and falling with barely concealed arousal. You slide Wanda’s jeans down at an agonizing pace, but your impatience wins out, the fabric stopping only midway down the other woman’s thighs before you start mouthing at her clothed center, running your tongue back and forth against the cotton like gentle brushstrokes.

“Oh, baby!” Wanda gasps. “Right there…yes!” Her fingers tangle in your hair and pull.

Wanda already feels like she’s seeing stars, just from this little stimulation alone, so she practically goes cross-eyed when you finally move her underwear out of the way to mouth at her properly. It only takes a few well-placed licks and added suction on her clit for Wanda to go hurdling over the edge. By the time she comes, she’s absolutely ravenous, and doesn’t bother with recovery or climbing the stairs. She opts to push you toward the living room instead.

You stumble onto the couch together, mouths attached, mirroring each other’s touch with insistent fingers. You come together, names on each other’s tongues, stars dancing behind your eyes. Wanda’s mind goes blessedly blank in the afterglow. When her brain eventually, slowly comes back online, she realizes she still has questions that haven’t been answered.

“What are you doing here?” She asks you.

“I just missed you,” you sigh. “I haven’t been able to get ahold of you for the past four days, remember?”

“Well, I was mad at you,” Wanda say bluntly

“I know, and it’s the Vegas thing, right?”

“Yes y/n, of course it’s the Vegas thing!” Wanda huffs, exasperated. “I mean, I’m tryin’ to keep my patience here, but you said nothin’ when they brought it up! Did you know about that? Did you already decide you were going? If so, then what the hell did you even get involved with me for? You can’t have your cake and eat it too, and I don’t know if I wanna—“

“Hey, hey, hey,” Your hands frame Wanda’s face gently, stalling her fire as you rest your forehead against hers. “Breathe,” you instruct.

Wanda doesn’t want to listen. She wants to keep throwing her hissy fit. But the contact, the closeness. She can’t resist just melting into you. For years, there has never been someone like you for Wanda. Someone who could stop an impending tantrum just with one simple touch; forehead to forehead. Before a few months ago, Wanda never thought herself the kind of woman who could be tamed. But she was so unequivocally gone for you. She’d do anything for you. She was all yours.

“To answer your questions, no, I didn’t even know moving to Vegas was an option. My spouse hasn’t told me any job-related news in months. They just…stopped updating me about stuff like that, and I stopped updating them. I was just as blindsided as you were by the news, okay?”

Wanda’s shoulders deflate just a little and you run your hands up and down her arms. “And for your next question, no, I didn’t decide I was going to go, because I don’t want to go,” you say. “I don’t want to leave town. I don’t want to leave my job…” you kiss Wanda’s shoulder and then her cheek. “…and most importantly, I don’t want to leave you. I’m choosing you? Wanda.”

“So then…” Wanda swallows hard, meeting your eyes. “That means you’re choosing to…divorce your spouse?” she says the words carefully, quietly as if something will go wrong if she says it too loudly.

“Yes,” you declare, searching Wanda’s eyes. “I want you to be with you, Wanda,”

Wanda feels her heart take flight in her chest.

“I’m not going to say anything until after the party. I was going to find time to do it before, but they’ve already invited everyone. Would be too much of a hassle to cancel now. Especially because of a divorce announcement, you know?”

“Yeah,” Wanda agrees, running a hand up and down your naked spine.

You sigh into Wanda’s neck. “I just wish I could get it over with. Rip the bandaid off without having to cause a scene,”

Wanda chuckles. “And here I thought you liked a little drama,”

You roll your eyes and swat her shoulder. “Hey, don’t implicate me. How was I ever supposed to resist you after you looked so darling in my cowgirl hat?”

“And aren’t you just so glad I let you talk me into putting that ridiculous thing on my head?” Wanda teases, nuzzling her nose against you and making you wrinkle yours.

“I’m grateful for everything that happened last weekend,” you take Wanda’s hand, kiss her knuckles. “It made me open my eyes,”

“Yeah, well,” Wanda mirrors you, lifting your knuckles to her own lips. “Maybe I needed to open mine too. See what was right in front of me,”

***

Wanda had been fashionably late to your spouse’s promotion party—because there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell she was showing up early to celebrate that moron—and when she does arrive, it only takes walking a couple steps into the house to realize she’d missed a few chapters.

For one, there seemed to be no music playing, and guests on either side of the room had abandoned their own conversations to watch one in the center of the room with rapt attention. Wanda follows the gazes of nosy party guests to find the drama in question: you standing in the center of your living room, your speech slightly slurred from possibly already having a drink or two.

Wanda catches tidbits of conversation: “never asked me if it was okay”, “self-centered prick”, and then the most damning ones: “I can’t do this anymore,”

Those last words, seem to knock all of the fight out of your spouse. “Wait…what?”

“I don’t want to move to Vegas with you,” you say, “and to tell you the truth, I think I’m in love with someone else,” for one lingering moment, you look up and meet Wanda’s. Butterfly wings flap between her ribs, minding all the gaps. She watches you turn back, pressing a packet of papers against your spouse’s chest, before storming out of the room.

While everyone else is distracted, hounding your now ex-spouse with questions, Wanda slips out behind you. She wanders the halls aimlessly for a while before taking the stairs. Shefinds you in the en-suite bedroom, haphazardly throwing things into a duffel bag.

Wanda hesitates, a hand coming up to grip the doorway. “Baby love?”

You whirl around and as soon as you register that it’s Wanda standing there, your face falls and you practically collapse into her arms.

“I did it,” you mumble “I did it, Wanda,”

“You did, but what happened to ‘no drama’ at the party?” Wanda teases, squeezing you tightly to her.

You sigh into her skin, “I was gonna keep things drama free, I really was, but then they mentioned starting a family as soon as we move out to Vegags, deciding things for me like I wasn’t even in the room, and I just…snapped. Of course, it didn’t help that I’d been drinking because I think I convinced myself that you wouldn’t come and then…. I just lost it from there,”

You look up at Wanda, sheepish. “I’m sorry if my immaturity tonight makes you rethink this whole thing—“

“Not in the slightest,” Wanda shakes her head, smiling. “You stood up for yourself and what you love, and more importantly, you chose me back. That’s all I could ask for,” she searches your eyes. “And you meant that part, didn’t you? I’m…someone you love?”

You hold Wanda’s gaze, a dopey smile that you can’t stop breaking across your face. “You are,” you confirm. “You absolutely are someone I love. A lot,”

Wanda beams, nuzzling her nose against yours. “Good. Because you’re someone I love too. A lot,”

You tilt your head up enough for Wanda to capture your lips in a quick peck.

“I’ll always choose you,” you murmur, resting your forehead against Wanda’s.

Wanda smiles, cupping your face in both hands. “I’ll always choose you too, honey,” she says, then she pecks your lips once, twice before releasing you. “Now, let’s get out of here. I get the feelin’ we’ll no longer be welcome,”

You smile, wrapping an arm around Wanda’s waist. “Your place, then?”

knock knock

you freeze from your spot in the bathroom. you had your hands half tangled in your hair, about to throw it up in a loose bun at the nape of your neck. you linger there for another moment, pausing to see if you’d hear the noise again. 

nothing. 

you twist your fingers through the elastic, wrapping it around the bunched up hair you gathered in the other hand.

knock knock

your hands drop. this time you shuffle towards the door. without bothering to look through the peep hole, you reach for the handle and swing the door open. 

wanda.

there she was. 

you forget to speak. it was hard to remember when wanda was standing on your doorstep looking like that. the sunlight caught in her hair, pulling out strands of copper you’d somehow never noticed before. 

“were you not ready?” she asks, breaking the silence when you don’t. her eyes rake over your form. 

the light breeze caught in the linen button up she was wearing, revealing a small glimpse of her black swimsuit underneath.  

“no, i was ready. i just thought you were going to text me.” you reply, pulling your phone out of your back pocket to check for any possible missed messages from her.

“well, that seems kind of silly to text when i have two perfectly working legs.” she quips back, reaching up to readjust her sunglasses over her eyes. you miss the access to her green stare immediately. 

“shall we?” she gestures towards the general direction of her parked car. 

“yeah, let me just grab my stuff.” you shuffle back towards the main living space, gathering your beach bag and a small beach umbrella which was big enough to shade two people. 

when you turn to lock the front door, wanda grabs the bag slung over your shoulder. 

“you don’t need to carry my bag.” you reach for it, but she already had it secured over her right shoulder. 

“i’ll let you carry the umbrella. c’mon.” she reaches for you with her free hand, her fingers wiggling in the air when you hesitate for a moment. 

your stomach flutters at the gesture. she made everything feel so easy and natural. sometimes you forget this is her first time doing this with a woman. 

you take her hand after a moment, allowing her to guide you to the car. 

“you wanna connect your phone to the speakers?” she asks once she finally slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. 

you nod your head, navigating to the bluetooth on your phone to connect it to the car. 

wanda doesn’t know it, but you carefully created a selection of songs for this date specifically. you packed a speaker in your bag for background music while you two lounged on the sand. it was a painstaking process really. you only knew a handful of songs she really liked—which were at the top of the playlist. the rest you had to guess. 

“you remembered.” wanda speaks once the song starts playing through the speakers. 

“remembered what?” you feign ignorance. 

“i told you i liked this one.” she smiles, her eyes focused on the road ahead. she begins tapping her thumbs on her steering wheel to the beat of the song. it makes your chest bloom with warmth. she noticed. you wanted her to know you were invested in her interests. 

the drive there was only about 20 minutes, but it was long enough that you were ready to stretch your legs. being nervous always made you so restless. 

unpacking the car went smoothly enough. finding a spot, however, was apparently a matter wanda took very seriously. 

“this is a good spot.” she finally declares after making you two wander around for the perfect place. 

“uh huh. and what’s so special about this spot exactly?” you lift your hand to block the sun from hitting your eyes. you make a show of looking around at all the other perfectly adequate patches of sand you passed by. 

“it just is.” wanda shrugs. she kneels in the sand, laying out a blanket to sit on. 

“right.” you agree dryly—teasing. you drop to your knees on the blanket, letting the umbrella in your hand fall to the side. 

“did you bring sunscreen?” she asks, moving the picnic basket she packed further back so it wasn’t preventing you two from sitting closer.

“maybe.” you shrug. 

“that’s a no.” she reaches into her own bag, retrieving three different bottles of sunscreen. 

“you plan on lathering that all on one person?” you tease. it was only the 9th date and you couldn’t help but notice she overpacked when it came to everything.  

“one is SPF 30, one 50, and this one is for your face.” she holds up the smallest bottle. it was a brand you’d never seen before. 

“come here.” she scoots over an inch, already opening the small bottle and squeezing some onto her hands.

“wanda you really don’t—“ you start to protest, but she cuts you off.

“i can’t take you back home looking like a lobster.” she holds out her hand half lathered in sunscreen. her expression is expectant. you stare at her for a few moments, measuring if she was being serious or not. 

it made your belly curl thinking about her putting sunscreen on you. the way she went out of her way to do little things for you— 

“well?” she adds when you stare blankly at her. 

“well what?” 

“are you coming over here or am i coming over there?” truthfully the thought of her taking care of you this way warmed you all the way down to your toes. you just weren’t sure if you could keep yourself composed with something that felt so intimate.

you hesitate only for a second longer before shuffling closer so she could comfortably reach you. you sit with your legs laid out in front of you, your back to her. warm hands lathered with sunscreen begin to massage your shoulders. 

she’s very thorough in her application method, going over the expanse of your back twice before deeming it sufficiently protected from the sun. she gives your forearms a squeeze when she’s done, signaling she wants you to turn around.

your breath stutters when you turn and realize just how close the two of you are. your legs are now folded indian style, wanda’s form kneeling in front of you. 

“i can do the rest.” you reach for the sunscreen she discarded beside you. it was easier to suggest something practical than admit the intimacy of it was making your stomach flip. she begins lathering your arms as if you had said nothing.

“my hands are already covered in sunscreen.” she finishes covering your arms, smoothing the remaining lotion onto your chest. she’s very thorough in that as well, her fingers tucking under the straps of your bikini top just in case they slid around throughout the afternoon. 

you watch her for a moment, a small dent in her brows as if she were very focused on the task at hand. she rubs her hands together once she’s finished, smoothing the excess sunscreen along her forearms until it absorbs into her skin.

“you trust me to do my face?” you inquire teasingly.

wanda glances up. “do you need assistance?” 

you laugh once. “no.” 

“then yes.” she hands you the small bottle of face sunscreen. you squeeze some onto your fingertips, rubbing it into your cheeks and forehead. it had a faint tropical smell to it that was quite pleasant. 

“well, i’m sufficiently protected from the sun.” you declare, handing wanda back the bottles she laid beside you. “you wanna go for a swim?” you begin to stand, lingering on your knees as you wait for a response.

“swim? i think i’d rather look at the cold water than be in it.” her eyes drift towards the ocean, her hands coming up to grasp onto her biceps as she folds her arms across her chest. 

“c’mon wanda, it’s the ocean. it’s meant to be swam in.” you attempt to convince her, though experience had already taught you wanda wasn’t easily swayed. 

“you go on ahead. i’ll supervise.” she nods her head towards the water, tipping the sunglasses adorning her head back over her eyes. 

you sigh, holding your hands up in surrender. 

“alright… but you’re gonna be missing out on tons of fun.” you emphasize the ‘tons of fun’ part, a last attempt to persuade her before you rise to your feet.

“i’ll take my chances.” wanda smiles. 

you almost roll your eyes, but when you glance at her smile, it’s so warm and endearing that her refusal was entirely weightless.

you turn and head to where the waves were lapping at the shore. the water is cold—just like wanda said. you can’t bring yourself to care though as you wade into the water. you love being in the ocean. 

goosebumps prick along your body, but it doesn’t stop you from stepping further into the sea. you see an incoming wave and duck underneath it just before it breaks. when you resurface, you duck under another one. the feeling of the water gently carrying and moving you beneath the surface was invigorating. 

you let the waves push you close to the shore, only to swim back out and have the process repeated multiple times.

as the water carries you closer to the sand for the 5th time, your eyes are drawn to the bright white and yellow stripped blanket wanda had laid out for you two. you see her sitting there, one knee bent, sunglasses perched on her nose as she watched the shoreline. 

she caught you staring immediately. of course she was watching. 

she lifts her hand once, the gesture causing something to tug in your chest. the moment your feet hit the sand, you’re already marching back toward her.

“what happened to all of the fun?” wanda asks. 

you’re standing back barely a respectable distance given that you’re dripping water. 

“it’s not as fun without you.” you pout. you would lie and say you didn’t do it to play dirty, but that was exactly your intent. 

wanda purses her lips, lifting her tinted frames just above her brows. she squints her eyes as they adjust to the brightness of the sun, her gaze not straying from your face. 

“i guess we can’t have that.” she says after a moment. 

you beam at her, your smile gleaming in the sunlight. you extend your hand towards her, your fingers wiggling in the air just as she had done earlier when she came to pick you up. 

wanda accepts your hand as you help to pull her to her feet. you mean to let go of her hand once she was standing, but her fingers never loosen around yours. 

feet pad against warm sand as you make your way to the water in comfortable silence. 

when wanda’s toes finally reach the cold water, she hisses at the sensation but otherwise continues walking further into the water with you.

“(y/n), it’s freezing.” she says through her teeth, her arms lifted almost comically above the water as she attempts to keep some part of herself dry. 

“it’s a little chilly.” you shrug, an amused smile playing on your lips at her reaction. you let go of her hand, sinking further into the water. you watch her from where the water laps at your neck. she was only in as deep as her ribs. 

there’s a playful dance in your eyes wanda must have caught on to because her eyes suddenly narrow in on your gaze. 

“don’t you dare.” she warns.

“what?” you ask innocently, drifting a couple inches away from her. 

“you know what.” she takes a step back herself—as if that would save her. 

you let the anticipation build, a sly grin spreading across your face before you pull your arms back under water and then splash in her direction. 

she freezes, looking down at herself and then back at you incredulously. 

“oh, you did not.” she pushes some hair off her face that stuck to the side of her cheek. 

“i did.” you’re still smiling, completely unapologetic. 

“that was very rude.” you study her expression, trying to gauge if she was truly upset or not. she did look stern, but just as you were about to open your mouth to say something, you’re met with a face full of water. 

you gasp, blinking multiple times to clear your vision. up until this point, wanda never bothered retaliating whenever you teased her. she simply let you have your fun. this was new. 

you look back at her, her green eyes shimmering with something suspiciously close to delight.

“there.” she smirks. 

“there?” you echo. 

“now we’re even.” she nods her head, like this was a resolution. 

“that’s it?” you ask, raising your brows.

“were you expecting more?” she mirrors your expression.

“maybe.” you admit.

“don’t push your luck.” she keeps her gaze on you as she slowly sinks deeper into the water until it reaches her neck. she shivers once, but otherwise doesn’t comment on the temperature of the water again. 

the two of you drift around for awhile, conversation ebbing in and out between stretches of comfortable silence.

it wasn’t until your stomach began growling that you realized you hadn’t eaten yet today.

back on the sand, wanda unpacked the contents of her picnic basket: chicken salad sandwiches, strawberries and potato chips—which, you discover, she’d sliced and baked in the oven herself. it was very like her to have a homestyle touch on something.

you compliment her cooking and thank her for bringing everything. had you been in charge, you were sure things wouldn’t have turned out as yummy as she made them to be. 

as you now lie on your back beside her, sun warming both of your bodies from head to toe, you find yourself completely at ease. your heads are only a few inches apart. every so often, the gentle breeze carries the scent of her sunscreen towards you. 

“the sun feels nice.” she comments. you hum in acknowledgment. 

you watch seagulls fly in a circle off in the distant sky. the sound of the ocean continues to lull you into a more relaxed state. you can make out the faint sound of voices and laughter from the groups of people littered across the beach. 

“that cloud kind of looks like a heart.” you lift your finger towards the sky, tilting your head closer to wanda’s so she can see exactly where you’re pointing. she hums softly in acknowledgment. you don’t move your head back to where it was. 

when you drop your hand back to your side, you let your hand rest in the sand where the blanket ends. you curl your fingers, feeling the warm granules move through the spaces in between your fingertips. the sand was so soft here. 

“can i kiss you?” wanda breaks the silence. you don’t need to look at her to know she’s tilted her head to look at you. you smile at her question. 

“you know you don’t have to ask every time.” you tilt your head to look at her, sage green eyes staring back at you. 

wanda hesitates for a moment. her eyes drop to your arm where she watches her own finger trace a line along your warm skin. 

“i know.” she finally replies, her gaze back on you now. “i’d still rather ask.” she adds after another short pause.

your smile widens. 

“you can kiss me.” you answer softly. 

the hand that was tracing along your arm reaches up to gently cup the side of your face. she’s slow as she leans in, closing the few inches of distance between you two. you tilt your chin just before her lips meet yours. 

they’re soft and warm and taste faintly of strawberries. your hand comes up now, fingers curling around the wrist that was holding your face. you squeeze gently as your lips move together. it felt like rediscovery. somehow, every kiss still carried the same sense of wonder as the one before. your stomach performed its usual little flip, warmth spreading all the way down to your toes. it almost felt reverent. 

when she breaks the kiss, you linger there for a moment, unwilling to completely disconnect. your fingers loosen from around her wrist, but you don’t let go. you open your eyes, noticing that wanda was watching you, her thumb caressing along your cheekbone. she ventures further down, cupping your jaw and using her thumb to trace across your lips. 

“y’know, i had a friend in college.” she starts to tell you.

“she dated women. used to tell me all about it.” she pauses again. she catches a few of your baby hairs flying away in the light breeze, tucking them behind your ear.

“i always listened.” she continues explaining. you regard her silently. you want her to continue. 

“it interested me more than i’d care to admit.” her hand drops from your face, reaching down to clasp yours. she holds it in between the small space where your bodies lay facing one another. 

“yeah?” you ask.

“you’ve been with women before, haven’t you?” she asks.

“i have.” you reply simply. 

“i find myself wondering about us sometimes.” she admits. 

you swallow. “us?” 

wanda nods, her eyes still intent on yours. “what it would be like.” 

oh.

your heart stutters in your chest, and you can only hope that your cheeks suddenly feeling warmer only had to do with the sun. 

“i think about us too.” you confess quietly. you swallow again, your eyes glancing from where she was holding your hand back up to her stare. 

“i really like you wanda.” 

she smiles, her hand giving yours a gentle squeeze. “i know.” 

neither of you say anything after that. wanda closes her eyes as you tilt your head to look back at the sky. seagulls cry overhead, the breeze picking up as the sun begins to settle further in the west. 

you realize the afternoon is beginning to slip away. you inhale slowly, taking in this moment—the ocean, the breeze, wanda. it was an afternoon you won’t soon forget. 

“we should probably head back soon.” wanda murmurs, her eyes still closed and her fingers still intertwined through yours. 

“already?” you pout.

“i’m old, remember? i lose all energy when the sun starts to go down.” she jokes, but you didn’t want to part ways just yet. 

“i don’t want this date to end.” you frown, tilting your head back towards wanda. she opens her eyes as she hears you shift. 

“you want to come back to my place for a bit?” she asks after a short pause. 

butterflies flutter in your stomach at the offer. you try not to appear overly eager, but the smile tugging at your lips gives you away anyway.  

you nod. “yeah, i’d like that.” you say softly. 

you pack up all of your things together. you attempt to load yourself up with most of the stuff to carry to her car, but wanda would have none of it. she protested, saying she was ‘old but not that old.’ 

you were just going to have to get creative with other ways to take care of her.

the drive home was quieter than the one there had been. not awkward, just less talking. your growing awareness that you’d be alone in her house for the first time settles gently in the back of your mind. combined with everything you shared that afternoon, it suddenly makes the evening ahead feel significant somehow. you’re not entirely sure why.  

you swallow thickly, glancing in wanda’s direction as she pulls into her driveway. 

“everything okay? you’re being quiet.” she comments, shutting the car off as she looks at you. 

“yeah, i’m okay. just thinking.” you shrug, not feeling quite bold enough to explain your current train of thought. 

she purses her lips, studying your face for a moment. 

“care to share?” she asks, one hand still on the steering wheel while the other reaches for one of yours, holding it gently as it rests against the middle console. 

“nothing bad…just thinking.” you shake your head. you can feel your cheeks warming again. if she can see them turning pink, she doesn’t say anything about it. 

“alright.” she drops it after a moment, squeezing your hand before letting it go.

“we can leave everything in the car for now. you wanna head inside and pick out a movie?” she unbuckles her seatbelt and reaches for her door handle. 

“yeah, that sounds good.” you agree, following suit as you step outside of the car and follow her into the house. you’d never been inside her home before, and suddenly the idea feels strangely intimate. 

you enter through the front door, wanda stepping across the threshold first.

“shoes off is my only rule.” she says as she shucks off her own beside the small rug you’re currently standing on. you step out of yours, nudging them with your foot so they’re lined neatly next to wanda’s. 

you step further inside and glance around at some of her personal touches. there was a tattered book lying on the coffee table in the living room, a throw blanket hanging over the couch, and a succulent sitting next to a window. 

“you pick.” wanda’s voice cuts into your reverie. she’s standing in the middle of the living room, tv remote in hand as she holds it out to you. 

you step towards her, taking the black remote from her grasp. 

she sits on the couch, curling one of her legs beneath herself. you shuffle over to where she’s sitting, taking the cushion next to her. 

you turn on the tv and find her netflix app, sitting back as you peruse through the movie selection, truly indifferent to what you might watch. 

wanda pulls the throw blanket from behind her back over her legs, spreading the extra over yours as you continue looking. 

you settle on an old rom-com. those were always safe.

“this is a good one.” wanda comments. her hand finds yours again. 

“mhm, it’s one of my favorites.” you tell her, nodding towards the screen. 

you naturally scoot an inch closer to her as the movie starts. it was unconscious really, like your body was doing something before your mind could catch up. 

you can feel the warmth from her body when you’re sitting this close. her hand is soft and comforting as she rests your clasped hands against the blanket.  

you can feel her eyes on you. you glance towards her in your peripheral vision, but she looks away. 

you can hardly pay attention to the movie when you’re so close. you have a feeling she’s looking at you again. 

this time you turn your head and catch her a second time. 

“what?” you ask.

“nothing.” wanda smiles.

“you’re not even watching.” you scoff.

“neither are you.” she notes astutely. 

you exhale, your shoulders relaxing. after a few moments, you lean against her, your head coming to rest against her shoulder. she rests her head on top of yours, her thumb stroking along the back of your hand. 

you’re looking at the screen, but you’re not actually paying any attention to the movie whatsoever. you can hear wanda’s steady breathing, her shoulders moving gently as she inhales and exhales. it’s soothing. you pick up on the lingering scent of sunscreen against her skin, along with the usual smell of wanda you’ve come to love—vanilla and sandalwood. 

you glance up to say something, but the proximity of your faces makes you forget what you were thinking in an instant. wanda doesn’t look away, instead her gaze flicks towards your lips and then back up to your eyes. 

“can i kiss you again?” 

you smile immediately. “you don’t have to ask.”

wanda mirrors your expression. “i know.” 

you glance at her lips now.

“can i?” she asks again. 

“yes.” 

she closes the gap. this kiss was different from earlier. not hungrier, not more intense, just… more certain. it feels a little more familiar as your lips move against hers. 

she shifts next to you, a hand coming to rest gently against your hip. you instinctively lean further into her, your bodies fitting together a little easier now than they had before. your hands find her hair, slow and careful as you cradle her head. 

she breaks away after several more moments, her forehead resting against yours as you both breathe a little unevenly now. 

“come with me?” she asks. your hands drop to your lap as you pull away an inch to look at her. 

you nod your head slowly and accept her hand as she stands and leads you down the hallway. 

you shuffle behind her, her fingers intertwined loosely through yours. the sound of the movie becomes muffled as you walk closer to what you assume to be wanda’s bedroom. 

she pushes the door open, stepping inside. her hand drops from yours as she walks to one side of the bed to turn on the lamp on the nightstand. 

with her room now bathed in the soft light, you glance around. it’s very tidy and simplistic. you notice there are only a few photos hanging on the wall—most of them landscapes or art instead of people. 

“it’s not very exciting.” wanda breaks the silence.

“i like it.” you say honestly. it felt very…her. 

your eyes drift from one of the photos on the wall to her face. she’s watching you again. 

“come here.” she hums. 

you hesitate for a moment. not out of fear, but for the shift in the air that you start to become more aware of. your feet pull you forward before you tell them to. 

as you stand before wanda, her hands come up to cradle your face. her eyes skim over your features. she has a gentle smile, one that warms your chest. this time, she doesn’t ask as she slowly closes the gap and presses her lips against yours. 

your hands reach for her automatically, your body pressing closer to her instinctively. your legs feel a little wobbly as you stand, butterflies flapping their wings inside your stomach. 

you become absorbed in her presence, in the feeling of her soft lips moving against yours, the delicate hold on your face and the quiet sigh she makes when your hands find her waist. 

you kiss her deeper, your lips parting. you feel her breath against your lips. your fingers flex around her waist, gently fisting the linen button up she was wearing. you weren’t rushing, you just wanted to explore. 

one of her hands slides down your neck, her fingers tangling themselves in the hair at the back of your head. 

you pull away this time, needing to catch your breath. with your eyes still closed, your faces just an inch apart, you feel wanda press her lips against your cheek. 

your eyelids flutter open, met with what was quickly becoming your favorite set of green eyes.

“you’re beautiful.” she murmurs. your cheeks flush delicately and you smile.

“you’re beautiful.” you echo, emphasizing your words. she really was the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. 

she grins, her nose scrunching. she holds your face there for a long moment, just looking at you. 

“you’re staring again.” you tease gently.

“i know.” she replies. “i can’t help it.” 

you exhale softly, the familiar flutter of butterflies returning to your stomach.

“sit with me?” she asks. you nod your head, following after her as she sits at the edge of the bed. 

her lips find yours again, a little more firm this time. you exhale shakily into her mouth, one of your hands resting along her thigh. you squeeze gently. 

when her tongue glides along your bottom lip, it’s gentle and calculated. you let your tongue brush along hers experimentally. she hums, the vibrations delicate against your lips. 

she shifts her body so she’s facing you, one of her hands curling underneath your knee. you can feel her pressing herself closer to you. 

you break the kiss, panting softly. she’s leaning over you, her eyes shining with something you can’t quite name. 

“do you want to lie down?” she asks. 

you look at her for a moment and then nod slowly, lowering yourself onto the bed until your head meets the pillows and your back is flush with the comforter. 

she gazes down at you, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she smiles gently. 

“wanda…” you begin, pausing for a moment as you search for the right words. “are you sure?” 

“i am.” she affirms quietly. you gaze into her eyes, reading only sincerity. your nerves settle a little. she wants this too. 

“okay.” you reply simply, a small smile touching the corner of your lips. 

she leans over your form, adjusting her position so she was supporting her weight on one arm, her body hovering above you. you think she means to kiss you, but she stops before your lips can reach hers.

“can i admit something?” she asks, her hand coming up to rest against your hip. 

“yes.” you answer quietly, your curiosity piqued. 

“it was hard not to watch you today.” she begins, her eyes trailing down your body where her hand rests at the seam of your shirt. “in your bathing suit.” she adds. you swallow thickly, your heart beginning to thump in your chest. “i thought the color looked lovely on your skin.” you feel her fingertips trace along a small sliver of exposed skin at your torso. 

“can i see it again?” she asks softly, her eyes dipping towards the edge of your shirt. 

neither of you had changed since coming back from the beach. you just had on a simple t-shirt and shorts to cover your bikini. 

you nod your head after a moment, reaching down to grab the bottom of your shirt. you’re unhurried as you lift it up over your head, gently discarding it to the side next to where you lay. 

you shift to get comfortable again, one leg bending as you plant your foot flat on the bed. wanda’s attention naturally drifts to the newly exposed skin along your upper body. the hand that was at your hip traces the soft flesh there. her touch was featherlight, drawing goosebumps along your skin. 

“beautiful.” she murmurs so quietly, you think it’s mostly to herself. you don’t say anything to fill the silence as she explores the skin of your torso. you watch her expression, which was mostly smooth save for the delicate smile turning up the corners of her lips.

she smooths her hand across your stomach, drawing a line up the neglected side of your torso. your muscles flutter gently beneath her soft touch. she’s watching so carefully that she notices. 

“does that tickle?” she asks, repeating the action to elicit  the same reaction. 

“a little bit.” you admit, your gaze falling to her hand. she hums, moving on from that spot to a little lower, just above the seam of your shorts. 

“you have three freckles right here.” she dots each one with a gentle finger. “i thought i noticed that earlier.” 

you sigh, feeling your body relax with her soft attention. there’s a patience to her touch that surprises you. she never rushes from one thing to the next, as if she’s spent enough years learning that some moments are worth lingering inside. 

“funny you say that. i was counting the freckles on your face earlier on the beach.” you chime in gently. wanda’s eyes lift back to yours.

“is that right?” she asks, smiling amusedly. 

“mhmm.” 

“and how many did you count?” 

her fingers linger at your side, tracing small absent-minded patterns against your skin. 

“twenty-three.” you reply.

“twenty- three?” she echoes, looking impressed. 

“mhmm.” you repeat with a smile. “i like your freckles.” 

 your hand lifts to tuck some hair behind her ear.  

her fingers drift just beneath the waistband of your shorts for only a moment before returning to your hip. your breath hitches softly, your leg giving a tiny twitch beneath her touch. 

“i like that you noticed them.” she murmurs. 

she studies your face for another moment before her thumb brushes softly against your hip. 

“we can go as slowly as you want.” she says gently. 

“okay.” you answer immediately. 

she smiles a little. “good.” 

“i want to see more of you.” she murmurs, her fingers returning to the waistband of your shorts. she glances up at you, silently asking for permission. you nod, shifting your hips so it was easier for her to slide them off. 

it didn’t feel awkward or rushed as she finishes undressing you completely. you felt safe, secure and desired by the softest, sweetest woman you’ve ever met. 

you’re equally as gentle and intentional when you take her clothes off, the only barrier between the two of you being her high-waisted bikini bottoms. 

as your lips explore one anothers, your hands map out all of the places along her back that draw out a low hum or a shiver. she was more responsive than you thought she’d be. her hands explore your skin, gently caressing and moving along previously unexplored skin. 

your hands become a little more bold, sliding up her sides to cup her breasts. your tongue caresses hers, both of your legs coming up to rest on either side of her. your thumbs brush against her hardened nipples. you pinch them carefully, testing her reaction.

she exhales into your mouth, one of her hands grasping more firmly onto your hip. she pulls away from your lips. they’re a little swollen now from how you were gently sucking on them. 

“i want to make you feel good.” she says, her voice a little breathless. 

“you already are.” you assure her. your hands slide down to her ribs, smoothing over the skin there.

“no, i mean…” she starts before trailing off. “can i try something?” she asks. 

you’ll try anything, so long as it’s with her.

“yes.” you reply after a brief moment. you almost regret your answer as instead of her hands continuing to explore your body, she pushes off of the bed. your brows knit together in a delicate frown. you sit up, propping your upper back against some pillows.

“where are you going?” even you can hear the longing in your voice. 

“nowhere. just grabbing some things.” she reassures, throwing a soft smile over her shoulder as she heads for the en-suite bathroom. 

she returns with a small towel, sitting on the opposite side of the bed where you lay. she reaches down into the nightstand, pulling out a couple objects you can’t quite make out just yet. she turns then, facing you so you can see what she’s retrieved. 

a hand towel, a small bottle of lube, and a translucent pink dildo. 

“can i use this on you?” she asks as she holds the faux cock between you two. you swallow. it was average sized, certainly nothing to be scared of. however, you’re a little surprised it was something wanda wanted to try so soon. 

“we don’t have to.” she says when you don’t respond after a moment. 

“no!” you reply a little too quickly. “it’s not that. i want to. i was just a little surprised is all.” you reassure her.

she grins, nodding her head. “okay.” 

she scoots close to you until her knee brushes against your thigh. you watch as she coats the dildo with a generous amount of lube. 

“i can always add more if we need it.” she snaps the lid shut, keeping the bottle close beside her on the bed. 

you open your legs to give her easier access. she settles between them, her knees pressed against the bed on either side of your left leg. 

her eyes are intent on her destination as she traces the tip of the pink dildo along your slit. 

“tell me if you want me to stop.” she murmurs as she rubs it perfectly against your sensitive nub. 

“i will.” you exhale shakily, your hips rolling just slightly into her hand. 

she’s thorough, making sure everything is sufficiently lubricated before you feel the tip pressing against your opening. you’re watching wanda, her eyes still gazing at the space between your legs. 

the toy slides in easily, though wanda is still slow, allowing your body to accommodate the size carefully. 

you gasp as you feel the dildo bottom out inside of you. the stretch is noticeable—pleasant. wanda’s eyes flick up to yours, a pleased expression on her face. she pulls out, twisting experimentally as she pushes it back in. your legs part further, your mouth falling open with a silent moan. 

she begins setting a slow pace, pushing in and out of you steadily. 

“does that feel good?” she asks, though your breathless pants must be a good indicator she was doing something right. 

“yes.” you gasp. 

your eyes drift down to her hand, watching as the faux cock slides in and out of you. you can hear how wet you are.

“there are other things i think about us trying.” she begins to say. “but for some reason, this is the fantasy i keep coming back to.” she twists her hand again, picking up the pace just a little. “i didn’t really know why. until now.”  

you inhale sharply, a small moan passing through your lips as she bumps against a particularly sensitive spot. 

“you’re taking this so well.” she praises, adjusting herself so she was hovering above you, her face just inches from yours. she changes the pace again, this time going a little harder. 

“wanda.” you whimper. your hips roll in time with her thrusts. her gaze burns into yours. even in the low light, you can make out how her irises have darkened just a tad around the edges. 

“those noises you’re making are even cuter than i imagined.” she hums.

she readjusts her hold on the base, changing the angle as she thrusts the toy into you even faster than before. the new angle allows her to rub perfectly against your sensitive walls, the knuckle of her thumb brushing against your clit with each thrust. 

“oh—” your head falls back, your eyes closing in pleasure. “that feels so good.”

“yeah?” she echoes, maintaining her pace. her free hand comes up to brush some hair off your forehead. 

“yes!” you gasp, feeling that familiar coil tighten in your belly. 

“good. just feel.” she murmurs gently. “you can let go whenever you need to.”

you focus on the sounds of wanda—her slightly labored breathing and her voice paired with the sounds of her fucking you and your breathy moans. the more you focus on it, the more the coil tightens.

your hands seek purchase wherever they can find as it finally snaps. you’re blinded by the color white, your muscles tightening as waves of pleasure wash over your body. 

wanda is gentle as she helps you down from your high. her thrusting becoming slower and slower as you ride the waves. she stops when your thighs begin to tremble, but she doesn’t take it out right away. 

she kisses you softly, her lips tender and careful as they move against yours. 

“was that okay?” she asks quietly.

“more than okay.” you whisper, a smile turning up the corner of your lip. 

when she takes care of you after, she’s gentle through the whole process. cleaning you up, making sure you feel okay as you cuddle close together. 

your legs are entangled together, arms wrapped around each other as you lazily kiss and stroke along each others skin. 

“i want to make you feel good now.” you tell her after a few minutes. she regards you for a long moment before nodding her head. all you know is you want to make this as perfect for her as she did for you. 

It had become a kind of background feature of the bedroom, a thing you'd both developed the ability to look past, until Natasha had finally picked it up this evening with the expression of someone taking on a task out of sheer principle. You'd joined her without being asked. That was how most things worked between the three of you.

Wanda was doing the dishes downstairs. You could hear the occasional sound of it through the floor.

You and Natasha had developed a system over time—she folded, you put away, a division of labor that had arrived organically and stuck. She was fast about it. Efficient, corners sharp, the way she did everything. You were slower because you got distracted.

You were putting away a stack of her shirts when you heard her make a small sound behind you, prompting you to turn around.

She was holding up a pair of your underwear. Black cotton, simple, nothing remarkable about them except that you recognized them immediately and your face went hot before your brain had finished processing why.

Natasha's expression was one of profound interest.

"Hey," she said. "Don't these look familiar?"

"Give me those—"

"I'm just asking." She turned them over, examining them like they were evidence. "Because I'm pretty sure these are the ones you soaked through completely back in March and said were ruined and we'd have to throw away."

"Natasha—"

"They seem fine to me." She looked at you over them, her eyes dancing. "You were very upset about it at the time. Very convinced they were beyond saving. I remember because you kept saying—"

She stopped because you'd lunged for them and she'd already moved, holding them out of reach, her other hand catching your wrist. You made a grab for her arm. She redirected it with the ease of someone who could do it in her sleep, which she probably could, and you ended up off-balance and she took full advantage.

You hit the bed in a tangle, and the laundry basket tipped over, a cascade of folded and now very unfolded shirts falling. Natasha was laughing, and you were laughing too despite yourself, grabbing for her wrists while she held the underwear triumphantly aloft.

"Say it," she said.

"I'm not saying anything—"

"Say what you were saying that day. Something about, what was it?" Her tone took on a little whine you knew was meant to imitate yours. "Oh, I remember. 'Mommy, please, you made me so wet'—"

"I hate you—"

"Your face is so red right now." She was delighted. "It's a very specific shade. I'd call it—"

You got a hand free and shoved at her shoulder and she let herself be toppled, still laughing. You ended up over her with your hair in your face and the undignified situation of her still holding the underwear.

The laughing faded by degrees, the way it always did. One moment you were catching your breath and the next you were just looking at her—her red hair fanned out across the covers, her face open and comfortable, the steadiness in her green eyes as they moved over your face.

She tossed the underwear somewhere off the bed, her hand coming to your jaw.

You stared at her for a few more seconds, and then you kissed her.

It started soft, then it deepened. Her hand in your hair, yours braced on either side of her. The laundry entirely forgotten. Her mouth moved on yours and you felt the warmth of it move down your spine.

Neither of you heard the footsteps on the stairs.

"Well," Wanda said.

You broke apart and looked up.

She was standing in the doorway. Her curly reddish-brown hair was loose around her shoulders, slightly damp at the temples from the steam of the kitchen. She was wearing the sleep shirt she always changed into after dinner, and she had the expression on her face that meant she'd walked into something that interested her and was already deciding what to do about it. Her dark eyes moved from you to Natasha and back.

The overturned laundry basket was very visible behind you.

"I could've sworn I told you two to fold the laundry," she observed.

"We were folding it," Natasha said.

"I can see that." Her gaze landed on the underwear, which had ended up near the pillow. One eyebrow rose. She looked at Natasha. "Were you terrorizing her again?"

"I was making an observation."

"She was terrorizing me," you said.

Wanda's mouth curved. She crossed the room and settled against the headboard, pulling her knees up. She looked at the two of you—you still half-over Natasha, Natasha's hand still in your hair—taking stock.

"Well, please," she said, "don't stop on account of me."

You looked at Natasha. She looked back.

"You heard her," Natasha said, grinning.

She pulled you back down.

The kiss was different with Wanda watching. The awareness of her sitting there with those dark eyes added a layer to everything. Natasha kissed you deeper. Her hand moved through your hair and you pressed into her and forgot about being self-conscious within about thirty seconds.

"Mm." Wanda's voice was encouraging. "She likes that."

Natasha smiled against your mouth.

"Do it again," Wanda said. "Slower this time."

Natasha did it slower. Her hand in your hair kept you where she wanted you, and she kissed you like she had nowhere else to be. You felt heat pool low in your stomach.

"Good," Wanda said. "Sweetheart," she smiled at you, "put your hand on her jaw. Hold her face while she does that."

You brought your hand to Natasha's jaw—following the angle of it, her pulse starting to speed up under your fingertips—and felt Natasha exhale against your mouth. She kissed you harder. Her hips shifted beneath you.

"Beautiful," Wanda said softly. "Look at you both."

She let it run—the two of you kissing while she watched, her voice coming in to adjust the angle of a hand or slow the pace. She wasn't performing the direction. She was simply orchestrating something she found worth her attention. Tilt your head. Let her breathe. Natasha—slower, I said.

Natasha slowed, but only just.

"Natasha." Wanda's voice sharpened by one precise degree.

Natasha slowed.

"Thank you," Wanda said.

You felt Natasha's jaw tighten slightly under your hand, felt the small resistance in it. She slowed because she'd been told to and not for any other reason, and Wanda clearly knew this and said nothing, which somehow communicated everything.

"Alright." You heard the rustle of Wanda moving. "Let's take those clothes off. I want to watch you do it for each other."

Natasha sat up and looked at Wanda with an expression you all knew well—considering, a flicker of challenge in it.

"Both of us?" she said.

"Both of you," Wanda confirmed pleasantly. She was already pulling her own shirt over her head. Her curls fell back around her shoulders when it cleared, and the low light of the bedroom caught the reddish tint in them. She reached back to unclasp her bra with brisk efficiency. "You can start with her shirt, Natasha."

"I know how undressing works."

"I'm sure you do." Wanda set her bra aside. She looked at Natasha steadily. Her expression didn't change. "Her shirt. Now, please."

Natasha held the look for one second longer than was strictly necessary—the beat she always took with Wanda, the fraction of a moment in which she weighed her options—and then turned to you and took the hem of your shirt in her hands.

She took it off you slowly. Wanda had said she wanted to watch, so she gave her something worth watching. Her hands were deliberate, her eyes on your face as the fabric cleared it. She unclasped your bra with one hand, letting it fall. Her hands spread across your ribs.

"Mm." Wanda had leaned back against the headboard again. Her dark eyes tracked over you with open appreciation. "So pretty. Do you know how pretty you are, sweetheart?"

Your face warmed. Natasha's mouth curved.

"Don't answer that," Natasha said. "Just let her look at you."

You nodded, biting your lip.

"Sweet girl, stop that," Wanda chastised, giving you a pointed look. You quickly released your lip from your teeth, with considerable effort.

"Her jeans," Wanda said to Natasha.

Natasha moved you onto your back and worked your jeans open, drawing them down and off. Her fingers hooked into your underwear at the same time.

"Leave those," Wanda said.

Natasha's hands stilled. She looked at Wanda over her shoulder. Then she looked back to you and teased the waistband of your panties, tugging slightly. It tickled, so you let out a giggle, and Natasha laughed too because damn, you were adorable, and she had also completely forgotten in the span of two seconds that Wanda was there.

"Leave them," Wanda said again, with a small smile that knew exactly what it was doing.

Natasha jumped at the reminder that Wanda had eyes on you. She rolled her own eyes and turned back to you, finding you watching her and the corner of her mouth twitched.

"Now yours," Wanda said. "Let her help."

Natasha sat back and you reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. Her red hair fell back into place across her shoulders, slightly wavy where it had dried from her earlier shower. Underneath was the lean muscle of her torso, the pale skin of her stomach, the faint track of a scar along her left side that you'd pressed your lips to more times than you could count. You unclasped her bra. She shrugged it off. Her abs flexed slightly with the movement and you watched the defined muscles shift.

"The rest," Wanda said. "You can do it, my love."

Natasha stood to let you get her jeans and underwear down and off, which she did with the complete unselfconsciousness of someone entirely at ease in her own body. Then she settled back on the bed and looked at Wanda.

Wanda, fully undressed now, looked back. Her curls were wilder now that she'd been moving around. She looked at Natasha, tilting her head.

"Come here," she said. "I want you."

Natasha went—and you saw the moment she decided to make something of it, the slight cant of her chin, the particular angle of her shoulders.

"Say please," Natasha said, smiling like she knew what would happen (she did, you did, it was no secret).

The room went a degree quieter.

Wanda looked at her. Something moved through her expression—she was never surprised by Natasha, so it was more like acknowledgment. The recognition of a familiar variable.

"Natasha," she said, her voice almost a sigh. "Want to repeat that?"

"I'm just saying. Not a hard task to say 'please'." Natasha knew she was digging a hole. She enjoyed that, you knew. "Some would consider it polite—"

"Natalia Alianovna. Come. Here." Wanda snapped her fingers and followed with a beckoning gesture. "Or you'll be watching instead of participating, and I'll spank you until your pretty ass is bright red. Your choice."

Natasha's chin stayed at its angle for one more second. Then she moved, because as much of a masochist that Natasha was, she wasn't in the mood for true punishment tonight.

Wanda took her face in both hands and kissed her. Thorough, claiming, the kiss of someone making a point. Natasha's hands came to Wanda's waist and held there. Wanda pulled back and looked at her from very close range.

"I'll ask again, want to repeat that?"

"No, ma'am," Natasha said, quieter now.

"Thank you." Wanda pressed her lips briefly to Natasha's forehead. Then she looked at you. "Sweetheart. Come sit beside her."

You moved to Natasha's side. Wanda took Natasha's face in her hands again and drew her back into the kiss, softer this time, Natasha going into it with less resistance. Her hands moved through Natasha's red hair.

"I want you to touch her," Wanda said to you, against Natasha's mouth. "Her pussy. Use your fingers." She pulled back slightly to look at you. "Gently. Start gently—she's not ready yet and I want to feel you get her there."

You moved your hand down Natasha's stomach, feeling her abs tense under your palm. Slipping your fingers between her thighs, you found her—the soft folds not yet slick but getting there, the heat already building.

Natasha made a small sound, biting her lip.

"Good girl," Wanda said. You weren't sure if it was to you or Natasha, but you suspected she meant both. She kissed Natasha again, deeper, and her hand moved to the back of Natasha's head. "Keep going, sweetheart. Slow. Take your time with her."

You worked your fingers through her cunt, exploring rather than driving toward anything, learning her even though you knew her. Natasha's breathing was changing already, becoming less even, and you could feel her clit starting to harden, could even feel her pulse if you lingered long enough.

"Daddy's getting wet," Wanda said, observing your face. "Isn't she?"

"Yes, Mommy," you said, your fingers now rubbing circles on Natasha's clit. Steady circles, like she had taught you so long ago.

"Tell her. Let her hear it."

You looked at Natasha, who had her eyes half-closed, Wanda's mouth at her jaw.

"You're getting so wet," you said, feeling Natasha's hips push toward your hand at the words. "You're…you're doing very well. So good."

"Mm." Wanda sounded pleased. She was pleased. Watching her two beautiful girls together brought her a happiness she couldn't quite describe, something that settled in her heart with warmth. "She likes that, the praise. You've learned so well, sweet girl. Two fingers, baby. Push inside Daddy slowly."

You pressed two fingers to Natasha's cunt and felt her hole clench immediately in anticipation.

"Fuck—" Natasha's breath went sharp. You kept your eyes on Natasha, slowly pushing in. You felt her stretch around your digits, felt her walls squeeze you.

"Curl them," Wanda said to you. "Toward you. Find where she makes noise."

You curled your fingers and felt Natasha's thighs press together around your wrist.

"There," you breathed out, scooting closer to Natasha for a better angle.

"I can hear that." Wanda's mouth curved against Natasha's cheek. "Good girl—both of you. You're doing beautifully, sweetheart, look at how well you're reading her." Her eyes moved to yours and held them. "Keep going. Just like that. Don't change anything."

You kept going. The same angle, the same curl, and Natasha was moving now—her hips rolling toward your hand in small controlled increments that were becoming less controlled, the muscle of her stomach tight beneath your other palm. Wanda kissed her steadily, swallowed her sounds, her hand keeping Natasha's face exactly where she wanted it.

"Faster," Wanda said to you. "A little. And add another finger. She can take it."

You gave her faster, and you slipped a third finger inside, the slick sound of it audible in the quiet room.

Natasha's head dropped back from Wanda's mouth. "Wanda—"

"Mm?" Wanda pressed her lips to Natasha's throat.

"I'm—I need—" Her hips were losing their rhythm, chasing your hand more desperately. "Please—"

"Please what?" Wanda said.

"Ma'am—" The word cracked in the middle. "Ma'am—please—I'm so close—"

"I know you are." Wanda's hand moved to the back of your wrist, stilling it.

"Don't you dare—" Natasha started.

"Stop," Wanda said to you.

You listened, your expression sympathetic towards Natasha.

Natasha made a sound that was genuinely pained. Her cunt clenched around your fingers, finding them motionless, and she dropped her forehead to Wanda's shoulder with a sharp exhale.

"Fuck you both—" The words came out muffled in Wanda's shoulder.

"Language, darling," Wanda said mildly.

"You're cruel," Natasha said.

"You're dramatic." Wanda pressed her lips to Natasha's hair. "You're also going to get there. Just not yet." She looked at you over Natasha's shoulder. "Such a perfect girl. You did that perfectly."

Your stomach turned over at the praise. You slipped your fingers free and Natasha made another involuntary sound at the loss. You knew she would've mouthed off some more if she didn't know that Wanda would hold firm on her promise.

"Go get the strap," Wanda said to you. "Our favorite one, baby."

You smiled, because you knew exactly which one that was. Excitement flooded through you, and you made quick work of grabbing the toy from the second drawer of the nightstand.

You worked the harness on while sitting on the edge of the bed and Wanda watched you do it with her chin in her hand, her curls falling over one shoulder. When it was in place, you looked up and found her eyes moving over you with visible approval.

"Beautiful," she said simply. "Lie back for me."

You lay back. The strap stuck straight up, slightly ridiculous, completely familiar.

"Natasha," Wanda said. "She's ready for you."

Natasha looked at the strap, then at you. Something in her expression shifted—from the frustrated edge Wanda had put her on into something more directed, something more focused.

She moved over you. Her thighs settled on either side of your hips, her red hair falling forward around her face. A bead of sweat traced the line of her throat—she'd been worked up for a while now, her skin damp and warm. She looked down at you and reached between you to angle the strap, and her eyes stayed on your face as she sank down onto it.

The sound she made as she was filled was quiet and satisfied. Her hands gripped your stomach and her head dropped backwards for a moment, her chest rising and falling faster. You felt the pressure of her hips pushing the strap against your clit, and you moaned softly.

You put your hands on her hips. She exhaled.

"How does that feel?" Wanda asked. She'd settled beside you, close by, her hand coming to rest warm on your sternum. Her eyes were moving between both your faces, attentive to everything.

"Full," Natasha said. Her voice was rough already. "Feel full—"

"I know." Wanda's hand pressed flat on your chest. "Roll your hips. Slowly."

The sound Natasha made was not quiet that time.

She found the angle that worked—you watched her find it, the moment her brow smoothed and her breath caught, the specific roll of her hips that seated the strap exactly where she needed it. Her abs pulled taut with the motion. The sweat at her throat caught the light.

And then you saw that glint in her eyes. You had only that as a warning before "slowly" turned into a pace of her own, and she knew exactly what she was doing with that speed change. Testing Wanda's patience, pushing those rules like she loved to do.

"Natasha, darling," Wanda said, amusement in her tone.

Natasha looked at her, panting but also completely knowledgable of her actions and the potential consequences of them.

"Slow down. And keep those eyes on her," Wanda said, nodding toward you. "Not me. Let her see you fuck yourself stupid on that strap."

Natasha's eyes came down to yours, though your eyes did not meet hers. You were watching her breasts—round and full, nipples hard in the air of your bedroom, bouncing with every movement she made. You loved the current situation, but oh how good it would feel to wrap your lips around one of those nipples…

"Focus, baby." Wanda's voice pulled you out of that train of thought, a knowing glint in her eyes. You blushed furiously, nodding and meeting Natasha's eyes.

"Good," Wanda said. Her hand on your chest moved in slow circles, warming the skin. "Keep going, Natasha. Find your pace." She glanced down at you again. "You're doing so well, sweetheart. You feel good?"

"Yes," you managed.

"Yeah?" Her hand drifted lower, finding your nipple and rolling it between her fingers. "Tell me. Tell Mommy."

"It feels—god—" Words were getting harder. Natasha's hips had found a rhythm and it was devastating. "Feels so good—"

"I know." Wanda pressed slightly harder and you arched. "I know it does. She's taking you so beautifully." Her dark eyes moved up to Natasha. "Faster."

Natasha obeyed without hesitation.

Natasha was extraordinarily good at riding—a fact that all three of you knew. Where this experience came from, you and Wanda debated often. Wanda had always assured you Natasha had gained it from their marriage, but Natasha herself had mentioned that before Wanda, when she was primarily with men, she was often on top and in control, which led you to believe she picked up her riding skills from that.

You thought about Natasha's past relationships sometimes: Steve (apparently his ass really was perfect as she pegged him), Bruce (she said you would regret it if you ever brought it up). Natasha had once told you she was never truly happy with those because she was always in charge. But with Wanda, she had someone she could give herself to without fear, who she could trust to always care for her. Surrender was not simple for someone like Natasha, but with Wanda it came like it was meant to be. Something easy to fall into, because she knew she would be caught in safe, loving arms. Well, as easy as it could be to a massive brat.

Her hips moved with an experienced rhythm, her back arching oh so beautifully. Her whole body was involved in it, the strong line of her thighs flexing with every motion. Her hands on your stomach kept you anchored. Her abs contracted and released in a steady pattern. The sweat that had gathered at her throat traced down between her breasts now, and she was making small sounds on every downstroke that she wasn't bothering to suppress.

Wanda's hand worked your nipple slowly, the contrast of her patient touch against Natasha's rhythm maddening.

"You're both doing so well," Wanda said, her praise hitting somewhere deep in you. "Look at her, sweetheart—look at how hard she's working for you. Such a perfect slut for us, taking that strap so well. Look how her pussy takes you in, how she bites her lip just like you do."

You were looking. You couldn't look away. Her breasts bounced, and she was biting that perfect bottom lip. You almost brought up how much of a hypocrite that made Natasha, since she and Wanda were always scolding you for doing that, but one warning look from Wanda had you keeping your mouth shut. It also had you wondering how much mind reading she was doing at the current moment.

"Natasha," Wanda said. "Touch yourself. Let us watch you break."

Natasha's hand moved to her own breast without breaking her rhythm. Her head tilted back slightly. Wanda watched this with focused attention, her hand still working you, bringing out the most adorable whimpers and whines as she tweaked your nipples.

"Good girl," Wanda said, and that was to Natasha. Natasha's hips stuttered fractionally and then recovered.

The pressure against your clit was relentless. Wanda's fingers on your nipples, switching between them, were precise. Natasha's rhythm had reached the point of barely-controlled, her breathing loud in the room, her hand at her own breast less deliberate now and more desperate, leaving red marks in its wake.

"Ma'am—" Natasha's voice was wrecked. "Please—let me—fuck—ma'am, please—"

"I know," Wanda said. "Both of you may cum."

Natasha came first—a sharp sound, her hips snapping down and grinding there, her whole body shuddering. The clench of her around the strap and the grind of the base against your clit was all it took to pull you over with her. You grabbed Natasha's thighs and held on, nails digging into her skin. The orgasm rolled through you in long pulses, Wanda's hand pressing flat against your chest like she was feeling your heart beat through it.

"There you are," Wanda said, soft and satisfied. "Both of you. So good."

Natasha folded forward. Her forehead found your shoulder and she stayed there, breathing hard, her hair damp against your cheek. You kept your hands on her hips, holding her.

Wanda reached over and caressed Natasha's hair, shushing her softly, calming her.

"She's earned a rest," Wanda said after a while. She was looking at Natasha—at the line of her back, the rise and fall of it—but she was speaking to you. Something in Wanda's expression was openly fond. She pressed her hand between Natasha's shoulder blades. "Natasha, darling. you did beautifully. So amazing. I'm so proud of you."

Natasha turned her head without lifting it, one eye visible, a pout on her face. "I know."

Wanda's mouth curved and she cooed, acknowledging Natasha's current headspace, which was beyond fuzzy. "Of course you do."

She helped Natasha off you—gently, holding her steady—and guided her to the side. Natasha went without argument, which said more about the state of her than anything she could have said out loud. Wanda settled her against the pillows and looked at her for a moment, her hand brushing the damp red hair from Natasha's face.

"Rest," she said. "You'll have a job in a minute. I know how you like those."

Natasha's eyes found hers, a familiar excitement shining in her eyes. "…what job?"

"Holding her," Wanda said with a coaxing tone, nodding toward you. "While I have my turn."

Something moved through Natasha's expression, something like thrill. She looked at you, then back at Wanda, and nodded, her grin returning.

Wanda took the harness off you with practiced hands. She looked at it for a moment—the strap still glistening with what was unmistakably Natasha's slick—and she worked it onto herself without ceremony. She caught you watching and held your gaze while she buckled it.

"Natasha," she said, not looking away from you. "Now."

Your heart raced as you were maneuvered and felt the warmth of Natasha settling behind you—her chest to your back, her long legs on either side of yours. Her arms came around you from behind, gathering you in, her chin at the top of your head.

"Ya tut," she murmured into your hair, her voice gathering strength. I'm here. How she managed to be fuzzy for Wanda but in control for you, you didn't question. "Daddy's got you."

Her hands were already moving—one spreading across your stomach, the other coming up to smooth the hair back from your forehead. She did it because she always did, because she knew you hated the feeling of it against your skin and she'd known it since the first time you had let her fuck you and had never once forgotten. Her fingers moved through your hair slowly, stroking it back, and you felt something in your chest go soft and open.

Wanda settled between your thighs and looked at you. Her curls fell around her face in the low light, wild and loose, and her dark eyes moved over you slowly. You could see that she was getting more affected, more focused on your pleasure than she had been when directing Natasha.

"So pretty," Natasha said, right at your ear, taking over the speaking in the absence of Wanda's voice.

Wanda lowered her head to your inner thigh and pressed her lips there. Soft, then not soft—her teeth grazing the skin, then biting down, a clean sharp mark that made you gasp. She pressed her lips to it after, acknowledging it. Her eyes came up to yours.

"I'm going to take care of you," she said, her voice raspy, a hint of that Sokovian accent she normally kept hidden peeking through. "Hold still."

Her eyes flicked to Natasha, and they had a silent agreement, probably that if you couldn't follow that command then Natasha would help you.

Wanda's mouth moved further up your inner thigh. She left another bite, lower, where the skin was thin and sensitive. The sting bloomed and she soothed it with her tongue. Behind you, Natasha's arm tightened across your stomach.

"Krasivaya," Natasha murmured. Beautiful. Her lips found your temple. "She's marking you. Do you feel it?"

"Yes—"

"Good." Her thumb moved in a slow circle on your stomach. "Let her. It's beautiful. Seeing you marked by Mommy."

Wanda's fingers found your pussy and stroked through it slowly—assessing, thorough, her eyes still on your face. She pushed two fingers inside you and curled them and held, watching what it did to your expression.

"Good?" she asked.

"Yes, Mommy—"

She pressed another kiss to your inner thigh and began to work you open. She took her time, scissoring her fingers, adding a third, her thumb pressing slow circles against your clit. You were soaked already, stretching around her easily.

"She's ready," Natasha said over your shoulder.

"I know." Wanda didn't rush. "I want her more than ready. It's a big strap."

Natasha made a sound at that. Something between amusement and understanding.

"She can take it," she said, and the conversation about you happening over your head like you weren't even there made you clench around Wanda's fingers.

"She can," Wanda argued, meeting Natasha's eyes with a stern look, "but some of us aren't as much of a pain slut as you are, darling."

There it was, the pull back. Natasha grabbing control as she returned to a normal, not so submissive headspace, while Wanda pulled her right back to the sweet spot by reminding her of her place.

Natasha huffed, a white flag act of surrender from her. Her lips pressed to the side of your head.

"Dover'sya yey," she said softly. Trust her. Her hand smoothed your hair back from your forehead again. "Just feel it."

When Wanda finally lined the strap up against your entrance you were trembling faintly, over-sensitized and aching, Natasha's body the only solid thing you felt and understood.

"Breathe," Wanda reminded as she pushed in.

The stretch was big and immediate—the strap filling you completely, Natasha's slick still coating it, and the knowledge of that sent heat pooling through your stomach that had nothing to do with friction. You moaned and Natasha caught it, her arms tightening.

"Vot tak," Natasha breathed—just like that—her lips at your cheekbone. "You feel that? Feel how full you are?"

"Yes—" Your voice was wrecked.

"You feel Mommy's strap in you?" The low rumble of her voice against your ear. "You're taking it so perfectly."

Wanda began to move.

There was nothing patient about it. She set a pace that was deep and relentless from the first stroke, her hands gripping your thighs, red nails digging in. She watched where she was moving into you, how your beautiful pussy opened up around her strap. She watched the strap disappear into you and reappear glistening with each thrust. She watched the bite marks she'd left on your thighs, the way they'd risen to the surface of your skin, pink and perfect in the low light.

"I've got you," Natasha said into your hair. Her hand was still moving, still smoothing the sweat-damp hair from your forehead in those slow careful passes. "I've got you, baby. Daddy's right here." Her other hand spread warm across your ribs, feeling your breathing. "You're so beautiful. Do you know that? Do you hear me?"

"Yes—" The word barely made it out. Wanda's pace had become something that required most of your remaining cognitive function just to breathe through.

"Say it back to me." Natasha's lips at your temple. "You're such a good girl. So good for us." Her hand flat against your sternum now, feeling your heartbeat. "Tell me you hear me."

"I hear you—" A sob split the words in the middle. "Daddy—I-I can't—it's so much—"

"I know." Her arms tightened. "Ya tebya derzhu." I've got you. "I've got you, I'm not going anywhere, you're doing so well—" Her lips were at the corner of your jaw, your cheekbone, pressing there and staying. "The sounds you're making—" Her voice roughened fractionally. "God, baby. So beautiful. You have no idea."

Wanda's hips snapped forward and she groaned at the impact of it, something close to a growl. Her hands gripped your thighs harder. Her chest heaved with the effort of the pace she'd set, and she looked devastating. She looked nearly feral. Wanda taking her pleasure was a sight you didn't see too often, which was truly a shame.

"Fuck," she said. The word came out rough and slightly foreign to her own tongue. "Such a perfect pussy, taking my fucking strap like that—"

"Mommy—" You sobbed, tears breaking from your eyes and rolling down your cheeks. "I can't—I'm going to—"

"No." Wanda's eyes darted to meet yours, her hips only getting rougher. She had this look in her eyes, one similar to what she gave Natasha. Darker, more dominant. She must've realized she was giving you her Natasha look because she made a visible effort to gentle the furrow in her brows at least marginally. "Look at me. Eyes on me."

You found her eyes, hands gripping into the sheets. Natasha's hand smoothed over one of yours, releasing some tension.

"Good girl," Wanda said, hips continuing to drive into you. "Hold it."

"She's shaking," Natasha said over your shoulder. An observation, monitoring. Her hand pressed flat over your heart.

"I know, Natasha—" Wanda's pace was losing its perfect rhythm, her own breathing ragged now. "She's going to be okay." Her eyes stayed on yours. "You're going to be okay. Ten more seconds. Count them."

Natasha counted with you, low and right into your ear in Russian—desyat', devyat', vosem'—her hand moving through your hair—sem', shest'—the strap hitting deep on every number—pyat', chetyre, tri, dva—

"Now," Wanda said, her eyes glowing a deep red for the split second you could keep looking at them. "Cum for me right now—"

The orgasm broke through you completely.

It started deep and rolled outward in waves that took everything with them—your back arching up off Natasha's chest, your hands grabbing for anything, finding Natasha's forearms and gripping there. Natasha winced at the immediate sting but tried not to show it, something like amusement running through her. The sounds coming out of you were loud and completely unmanaged. Natasha held you through every one of them, her arms locked around you, her lips at your ear saying your name and I've got you and so beautiful, so perfect, you did it, I've got you—

Wanda's hips stuttered and she broke.

She came with her forehead dropping toward your sternum, a shattered sound escaping her, her hips grinding deep and holding there. Her hands at your thighs went loose and spirals of scarlet magic swirled across your skin from her fingertips, her breath coming in short and sharp pulls.

Then there was quiet, just the three of you breathing.

Wanda pulled out slowly. Natasha's arms kept you held through it, her chest warm against your back.

Wanda set the harness aside. She pressed her lips to each bite mark on your inner thighs in turn and then moved up the bed and lay down beside you, and for a moment she just stared at the ceiling with her hair spread wild across the pillow.

Natasha watched her over your shoulder.

"Come here," Natasha said, shifting you to make more room. And she did enjoy the whine you let out as you tried to become a blob in her arms, post-orgasm bliss running through you.

Wanda turned her head, eyes looking from you to Natasha.

"Come here," Natasha said again, softer. "Please, Wanda."

Something in Wanda's expression shifted, a controlled thing letting go. She moved, and Natasha rearranged the three of you, and then you were tucked between them—Wanda at your front, Natasha at your back with them facing each other—and Natasha's arm reached over you to rest across Wanda's waist.

Wanda exhaled shakily.

"You were…incredible," you said into her shoulder, eyes closed. "Felt so good."

Wanda let out a laugh, quiet and maybe even slightly bashful.

Natasha's hand moved up and down Wanda's side slowly. "She's right. You were."

Wanda was quiet for a moment, and then her hand found yours under the blanket. "You both were." She squeezed once. "My good girls."

"Both of us?" Natasha asked, that famous grin returning.

"When you're behaving," Wanda amended.

"I behaved."

"You've been…adequately good," Wanda quipped.

"Adequately—" Natasha sounded genuinely offended. "I held her through the whole thing. My arms are tired. And did you see me ride her? Shit, moves like that would earn me a medal at a rodeo."

You laughed—face pressed into Wanda's shoulder. Wanda's chest was moving with her suppressed version. Natasha made a dignified sound.

"I just want some acknowledgment," she pouted.

"Go to sleep, Natasha," Wanda said.

"I'm making a reasonable—"

The sound of Wanda's hand meeting Natasha's hip was crisp and decisive, a spank that was proof enough of Wanda's dominance over Natasha still existing.

"Ow." A pause. "That was my hip, not my—"

"Close enough. Sleep."

After a moment, you heard the distinctive sound of Natasha choosing to settle in with an intact dignity.

"Spokoyno nochi," Natasha said. Good night. "To those of us who are being gracious about this."

"Good night, baby," Wanda said. You could hear her rolled eyes in her tone.

You pressed your lips to her shoulder. "Good night, Mommy. Night, Daddy."

The room was warm and dim. Outside the window, the night was doing whatever nights do. In the room, there were three of you breathing, Natasha's hand moving in a slow absent rhythm on Wanda's waist, Wanda's thumb tracing small circles on the back of yours, nobody moving toward sleep quite yet because nobody wanted to be the first to lose this.

Natasha was asleep within four minutes. She always was.

You lay between them and listened to her breathing slow and felt Wanda's pulse steady under your palm and thought that this—this exactly—was everything.

a/n: trying something new and not doing the fic in small text. personally i like the small text look better, but you let me know please :D

“Sit on it, baby.”

The dildo suctioned onto the chair is intimidating, thick with ridges perfectly placed to torment your pussy. It’s your least favourite of your toy collection. Of course, that makes it Natasha’s favourite.

“I’m not going to ask again,” she warns when you hesitate. Her movement is slow, predatory as she takes a single step towards you. “Sit. Down. Now. Or I’ll fucking make you.”

Your dominant’s tone sends a chill down your spine and you know that you should obey, lest you make this worse than it's already going to be.

“Yes, ma'am,” you all but squeak. The satisfied hum from Natasha has another flood of wetness coating your thighs.

Your legs are shaky as you obediently step up to the chair, your heart rate heightened from an intoxicating combination of arousal and spine-chilling fear. Natasha likes to play rough. She loves to break you down, belittle you, shatter you until you’re reduced to nothing but her toy to use. She is nothing short of sadistic—and you love it.

The toy isn’t lubed and that, in addition to the lack of a warm-up, has you wincing as the tip of the dildo breaches your hole. Natasha’s eyes are focused on your cunt, enraptured as the silicone disappears into your wetness. You manage to lower yourself down maybe an inch before you falter, the stretch agonising (perfect).

“Ma'am, I can’t, it’s too much—fuck!”

Natasha reaches out and slams your hips down on the toy, cackling at the scream it elicits. “Aw baby, did that hurt? Was it just too much for your little cunt?”

You feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes already as your pussy protests the intrusion. You feel unbearably full—not helped by your full bladder, resultant of Natasha plying you with glasses of water all day.

“Tears already, darling?” Natasha muses, wiping away a tear with the pad of her thumb. “This is going to be fun.”

You fight the sobs, refusing to give in just yet. You won’t let her break you (well… at least not without her putting in a bit of effort). A harsh pinch of your nipple threatens to break your composure; you look up at a grinning Natasha with as much defiance as you can muster.

“Fight all you like, little girl. We both know that in the end, you’ll break for me.”

With a sharp smack to your thigh, she retreats, leaving you impaled on the dildo as she saunters over to a table just out of your view. You take a moment to breathe, closing your eyes as the pulsing of your clit threatens to drive you mad.

You start, eyes shooting open as your arms are suddenly yanked behind your back. You initially try to struggle but with Natasha’s iron grip all it does is move the dildo inside you. The harsh ridges scrape along your g-spot and you cry out, already overstimulated, unbearably full, and undeniably turned on.

“Good girl,” Natasha praises as you settle, staying as still as a statue as the dildo threatens to shatter you. “Be a good little slut and stay still. We both know you want this.”

“No! Please don’t do this. Please, I don’t want this, it’s too much!”

You want it. You had practically begged to play out this scene. And unless you use your safeword or safe signal, Natasha isn’t going to stop. You don’t want her to stop.

Natasha continues to bind you tightly to the chair. She’s rough in her ministrations, each jerk causing the dildo to move and you to whimper—she’s definitely doing it on purpose. Your wrists are tied to the posts of the armrest, tight rope snaking around the bottom of your bare chest and the back of the chair. Natasha flashes you a sadistic grin before she loops another length of rope around your lower stomach. She pulls tight and you gasp at the pressure it applies to your full bladder.

“No, please, no, ma'am, stop—“

A harsh slap to the inside of your thigh. “Shut the fuck up and take it like the slut you are. You know you like it.”

You hate that she’s right.

Natasha’s movements slow as she takes the penultimate length of rope. She trails the material over your hip, down your sensitive inner thigh, and once she reaches your knee, she yanks your legs open as wide as they will go, baring yourself to her. She makes quick work of restraining first your thighs and then your ankles before drawing back to admire her work. Her gaze hones in on your aching pussy and you instinctively try to close your legs, only to be stopped by the tight rope. A low moan escapes you as the reality of your situation sinks in.

Natasha tuts as she regards the wetness pooling on the chair, soaking the base of the dildo stretching you open. “Oh, kotyonok, you’re making such a mess.” A harsh slap, directly on your throbbing clit. You can’t suppress your scream. “Such a fucking slut. So easy for me. My perfect little fucktoy.”

You clench hard around the dildo. Natasha doesn’t miss it, if the sparkle in her eye is anything to go by.

“Don’t get too comfortable yet,” Natasha says as she strides over to the table once more. “I’m not quite done setting up.”

A chill runs down your spine. What else could she possibly have up her sleeve?

Scenario after scenario runs through your brain like a supercut, each one more sadistic than the last. Your spiralling thoughts are interrupted by Natasha stepping back into your line of sight, holding a final length of rope and a powerful wand vibrator.

“No,” you whimper. You can’t do this. It’s too much. The dildo is stretching you to the point of pain, your bladder is screaming for relief, and this? Your most powerful vibrator? You don’t know if you can handle it. “Ma'am, no, please, don’t do this, I can’t—fucking hell!”

The heavy blow to your clit has you breaking down into sobs. Natasha’s face is emotionless as she presses the wand firmly against you, securing it to your thigh with a well-practised knot. She checks the knot is secure and then draws back until her nose is millimetres from yours, hands braced on your thighs.

“I don’t care if you can’t do it. You will do it. I don’t give a fuck if it hurts, if it’s too much for your sensitive little pussy. You’re going to be a good slut and take it, or it gets so much worse for you, dekta.”

You’re not sure how this situation could get any worse, but you know better than to push it right now, lest your question is answered. You manage a nod and try to suppress your sobs, forcing your shoulders to still.

“Nu-uh, don’t stop crying. I want to hear you beg for mercy.”

And with that she clicks the vibrator on.

The low pulse is almost welcome at first. But then she clicks the toy up another level. And another. And another. And suddenly it's no longer so pleasant.

Your hips buck of their own accord, whether to chase the pleasure or to try to escape, you're unsure. Each buck of your hips has the dildo grinding inside you, pressing on your bladder as the rope around your abdomen further constricts it. You cry and gasp, barely aware of anything except the overwhelming sensation assaulting your pussy.

Natasha must decide to take advantage of your daze as, without warning, cold metal closes over your right nipple, a harsh pinch which makes you yelp. It's quickly replicated on your left nipple, followed by a harsh tug to both that has you shrieking. Even with your vision blurred by tears, you can make out the shape of the nipple clamps and the chain that connects them. She gives the chain another sharp tug, cackling as you writhe in pain.

“Ma'am, no, please—” A hiccuping sob. “Ma'am stop, it hurts, ma'am, please, I need you to stop, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—!”

“Aw, did little kotyonok bite off more than they can chew? You asked for this, remember?” Her eyes are sparkling as she watches you writhe and sob. You’re still aware enough to notice her subtly grinding against her palm, the sight sending another jolt of arousal through your system. “Yeah, you were practically on your knees, begging me to use you, to hurt you. You pathetic little slut, you get off on me hurting you?”

Her mocking words have you clenching hard around the dildo. Natasha’s cold laugh cuts through the fog of overstimulation, pushing you even closer towards that edge. Against your will, your hips move faster, grinding against the dildo, chasing the pleasure, even as it pushes hard against your bursting bladder. The sudden insistent pressure cuts through your thoughts with startling clarity, sending you into a spiral of panic.

“Fuck, ma'am, I need to pee! Please, stop, I need to go pee!”

“I don’t fucking care. Your comfort means nothing to me. And your dignity… well, that means even less.”

Your cheeks flame red even as the embarrassment has a fresh wave of arousal twisting your stomach. The idea of being unable to hold it, of having an accident here, in front of her, in such a compromising position is purely unbearable but undeniably intoxicating. But still, you struggle, protest, play Natasha’s game.

“No, ma'am, please don’t do this, please, it’s humiliating, please let me go, I need to go—!”

“Hmm…” Natasha stands there with her head cocked to the side, leisurely observing you as you struggle and cry. Her face softens, a small smile quirking the corners of her lips. In your current state, you almost think she is relenting (almost).

“Let’s make a deal, baby girl. If you can be a good little slut and hold back from coming for five minutes, I’ll untie you so you can go to the bathroom. But if you fail, if that greedy little pussy just can’t help itself… “ The gentle mask falls from her face, revealing the sadistic predator that lies below. “Well, what’s a little more mess?”

You collapse into sobs. Natasha’s ultimatum offers little relief to your over-stretched bladder. Five minutes could well be an eternity.

Your brain's too far gone to notice that she doesn't set a timer. You're not meant to win. This is all a cruel trick, an elaborate con to fool you into a sense of control so she can just rip it away at the last second. You will never have the luxury of choice here. You are nothing but Natasha's plaything; her entertainment. And she had already decided how this ends before she even step foot in the room.

She bends over so her face is right in yours, a firm hand holding your chin in place. “Aw kotyonok, you’re so pretty when you cry for me.”

You shake your head minutely, not even to disagree with her statement, but simply to express your mortification at the entire situation as words elude your rapidly clouding thoughts. Natasha recognises the way your expression glazes over, intimately familiar with the signs of you falling into that headspace she adores.

“Aw, is that little head getting all fuzzy for me, kotyonok? Is it just too much for your little brain to handle? Good thing this isn’t about that smart little brain of yours; this is about your slutty little cunt.”

She punctuates her statement by turning the vibrator up even higher before pressing down on your bladder - hard.

You feel a small trickle of piss leak onto the chair beneath you, your cheeks flaring with heat. Embarrassment seizes your chest. But it also makes you overwhelmingly aware of your current position, and the realisation of just how vulnerable you currently are throws fuel on the fire that is your building pleasure and you know that you're not going to make it to five minutes. You're not even going to last another thirty seconds.

“I-I can’t hold it, I’m gonna come—I need to pee—I need to come, fuck, m-ma'am—!”

Natasha clicks the vibrator up one final level. “Go on, come for me printsessa. Let that pretty cunt explode.”

Your body obeys, ever a slave to her every word. The world ceases to exist as pleasure bursts through every synapse in your body, a scream escaping you as Natasha yanks the clamps off of your nipples. Your orgasm crashes over you with the force of an avalanche, blinding pleasure whiting out your vision as all thoughts cease and all you can do is feel.

For a brief moment, everything goes fuzzy, the world vanishing for a second as your consciousness slips. But Natasha is there, whispering praises and reassurances, guiding you back to awareness, even if your body is still slack and unmoving and your head blissfully empty.

“Good girl,” she whispers, kneeling before you, your cheeks cradled between her hands. “That’s it, you’re okay. You don’t have to do anything, dorogaya, I’m here, you’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

She doesn’t ever need to say it. You know that fact like the back of your hand.

After a long moment, you slowly blink your eyes open, Natasha’s face slowly coming into focus. Her slight frown quickly brightens as your eyes meet hers. “Hey, there’s my pretty girl.”

You return her smile, brain still too fuzzy to manage anything more. You know that Natasha understands everything you want to say just from that simple expression: I’m okay. I enjoyed that. Thank you.

With you feeling slightly more grounded, Natasha moves to begin untying you. As she works, removing first the powered-off vibrator, before untying your legs and arms, you become aware of the pool of wetness you sit in, far larger than should have occurred from you just coming. A wave of embarrassment surges through you as you realise that you must have lost control of your bladder, the shame sitting heavy on your chest now that the adrenaline is wearing off.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Natasha’s brow immediately furrows and she kneels before you again, hands cupping your cheeks as she searches your face. “What for, baby girl? For peeing?”

Your sudden inability to meet her gaze tells her all she needs to know.

“Hey, it’s okay, darling,” she says, her thumbs gently running over your cheeks in a soothing pattern. “Remember, we planned this. Remember how enthusiastic I was when you proposed it? This is what I wanted. I’m not judging you at all. In fact, I’m proud of you.”

That makes you look up. “R-Really?”

“Yes. So, so proud, and so, so honoured that you trust me enough to be that vulnerable with me. It means more than you know.”

A beat passes.

“But we do need to move you out of this mess, that can’t be comfortable.”

You chuckle slightly and shake your head in affirmation.

“I’m going to lift you off the dildo and move you to the bed, okay? It’s gonna feel really awful for a moment but I promise it’ll be better soon. Is that alright, dorogaya?”

You manage a nod and Natasha’s arms wrap around you as she encourages you to wrap your own around the back of her neck. “Three. Two. One.”

Your groan of discomfort has Natasha whispering profuse apologies as she lifts you off of the dildo and into her arms. You cling to her like a koala, head buried in her neck as she carries you over to the bed and gently lays you down with a kiss to your forehead. You cling to her sweatshirt and grab at the air with a frown as she retreats.

“I’m going to go run the bath, dorogaya,” she says, taking your hand, which is still feebly trying to reach for her, and giving it a kiss. “I’ll be back in just a moment. I promise.”

You can see the sincerity in her eyes and that is enough to get you to loosen your grip and allow her to go attend to the bath in the en-suite.

There’s a brief flicker of panic in your chest as she leaves your side, but the calm quickly returns. She’ll be back, she always comes back. She’s never given you any reason to doubt that. You have no doubt she already has everything lined up and ready, so all that she needs to do is turn the tap. Natasha is like that - she plans everything down to the tiniest little detail, especially when it comes to you.

And surely enough, she soon reappears, this time to carry you with her into the bathroom. Steam is already creating a haze in the room reminiscent of the post-scene haze in your mind. Natasha gently—oh so gently—places you down in the water and you sigh involuntarily as the warm water wraps around your exhausted body. Natasha is quick to slip in behind you, gentle movements so at odds with her in-scene demeanour cradling you against her.