𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒇𝒇:

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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