You stare blankly ahead at the pond. It's a calm day with barely a ripple disrupting the surface. Sunlight glints off the water in bright, sharp intervals. Watching the ducklings follow their mother has become a common sight by now.

But today is different.

A male drake follows alongside her, occasionally nudging her side. The mother duck takes a sharp turn away, but the drake follows anyway. It makes your lips curve upward in a small smile. It reminds you of old television sitcoms where the husband character annoys the wife, walking away while he tries to joke around, desperately attempting to get her to lighten up.

You peer to your right, discreetly. You're sitting beside Natasha on the bench. Wanda is on the far side. Wanda has been glaring at Natasha since the moment you all sat down, while Natasha just gazes straight ahead, smirking to herself.

You suck in a deep breath, averting your eyes back to the pond. The ducklings continue to follow blindly, even as the mother continues to shun the drake. You tap your finger against your thigh, trying—and failing—to ignore the suffocating, awkward atmosphere beside you.

I want to go home, you think to yourself.

You think back to last week in this exact spot. So many of your questions remained unanswered even now.

Natasha had released your hand but kept her gaze on you, scanning your face for something you couldn't decipher. The lack of malice in her expression was the only thing you could read. Your hand fell slowly to your lap while your thoughts raced. You looked up at Wanda with pleading eyes, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Why did she put you in this situation? Why didn't she tell you she's married? Why didn't you bother asking if she was in a relationship?

Guilt pressed down on you from all sides as Wanda opened and closed her mouth. You needed her to give you some kind of explanation. You weren't someone who would ever get between a relationship, and you weren't starting now.

"Wanda, let's go," Natasha called over her shoulder plainly, almost unbothered. She turned her gaze back to you, taking a step back. "See you next week."

She turned around with a smirk before you could get a word out, taking confident strides toward Wanda. Natasha grabbed her hand, pulling her down the path.

"Wait," Wanda breathed out, as if she were finally knocked out of her trance. But Natasha didn't let go, continuing down the path and forcing Wanda to follow her lead.

Wanda hadn't visited once throughout the week, and her absence didn't go unnoticed by you. During quiet moments, the swirling emotions sent your thoughts into exhausting loops. Your feelings were a volatile, conflicting mess that shifted constantly.

First came betrayal over the fact that she hadn't told you she was married. All those deep conversations, the touches that went far past conventional friendliness, and the quiet moments spent confiding in each other about the people you missed. You knew you hadn't mistaken them. So, had she just been playing with you?

Then came guilt over your position in all of this. It was a position you were unknowingly thrown into, yet you still bore the responsibility of it. You had reciprocated those touches. You even enjoyed them. The thought of spending time with Wanda while her wife sat at home, oblivious, ate at your conscience. You knew that Natasha knew about you, but did she know the extent of what was going on?

Finally, there was shame. Shame that you had forgotten Her in that moment and called another woman mommy. Continuing to meet with Wanda had resulted in exactly what you feared. You were starting to forget Her. You were replacing Her.

But most of all, you felt longing. All the emotions would swirl, muddying the waters, until the sediment finally settled and left you with the agonizing truth.

You missed Wanda, even through it all.

When you scored 98% on your assignment, you wanted to tell her, to hear her tell you what a wonderful job you did. When a rude customer tripped on the way out, you wanted to recount the story to her, just to hear that gentle, joyous laughter of hers ring out.

You had so many questions ready for when you saw her again. If you ever saw her again.

It wasn't until today, Friday, that you walked out after your shift ended and found her leaning against her car like always. Except she wasn't alone. Natasha stood right beside her, smiling the moment she noticed you and waving you over.

"Thought I'd join the hangout today. That's okay, right?" Natasha said, sending a smirk Wanda's way.

Wanda rolled her eyes before meeting yours with an apologetic smile. It only made more questions form, but your lips had moved on instinct.

"Yeah, of course," you said automatically, cringing at yourself internally. You really should've just made an excuse.

It's why you're sitting here now. Silence hanging heavy in the air for the past ten minutes.

Natasha shifts her left arm, the movement drawing your eyes to her wrist as she checks her watch. Her wedding band glints sharply in the sunlight. She glances at you suddenly, her green eyes shining as she nods, raising her eyebrows as if challenging you. You're about to ask her what she's trying to say when she finally speaks.

"Shall we grab dinner? There's a nice spot up the street, but it's quite a busy restaurant. Would you mind going ahead to grab a table, Wanda? It's the Italian one." Natasha doesn't turn to look at Wanda once, keeping her eyes locked on you the entire time.

"What?" Wanda says, her voice a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "Why can't we just go together?"

"Your baby here," Natasha starts, the unbothered smirk returning to her lips, "seems to want to watch the ducks for a little longer."

"Natasha, sto—"

"I do," you interject abruptly, cutting Wanda off. You know why Natasha is doing this. Frankly, you've been wanting to talk to her, too. To apologize. "Can Natasha and I stay for a little longer?"

You lean forward, craning your head past Natasha to look at Wanda pleadingly, your eyes wide. Wanda's expression softens immediately, the glare vanishing from her face. She stares at you, her lips pulling into a thin line before she parts them, preparing to speak. Your lower lip involuntarily juts out into a pout at the refusal written all over her face.

Wanda pauses. Her shoulders droop before she lets out a heavy sigh.

"Okay," she murmurs softly. "Just don't be too long, sweetheart."

Her face morphs into a gentle smile, as if she can't help herself. Then she turns her gaze to her wife, the warmth instantly draining from her eyes. "I mean it, Natasha."

Natasha leans back against the bench, chuckling to herself. "Okay, okay," she agrees, her tone easy.

Wanda rises from the bench, pausing in front of you. She reaches out, her fingertips brushing gently against your cheek, her thumb pressing against your lower lip. She gazes down at you, her eyes filling with an intense, consuming affection that you know isn't fully meant for you. It's for the ghost she sees in you. That distinct glimmer in Wanda's eyes that always appears whenever she's thinking or talking about the person she misses, present now. A satisfied smile touches her lips before her hand falls away from your face. She finally turns, walking slowly down the gravel path.

It's silent for a moment, save for the ambient chatter of people passing by the pond. You stare down at your jeans, picking at the loose seam on your right thigh before releasing a shaky breath. You twist your body slightly in Natasha's direction, letting your gaze rest on her face.

Her eyes aren't on you. Rather, they're glued to the ducklings gliding across the surface of the water. A faint, wry smile traces her lips. Her eyes swim with a complex storm of emotions.

"I'm so sorry. I really didn't kn—"

"Wanda and I don't have any children," Natasha states abruptly. Her voice sounds distant, clouded with a sudden melancholy that makes your thoughts freeze.

She finally turns her head, shifting her focus to you. Now that you can see her eyes fully, you catch the fleeting glimpse of sadness swimming in them before she blinks, and it vanishes. A small smile appears on her face, but there's no joy in it.

"Do you know why?" she continues.

You try to scramble for an explanation, but you don't know nearly enough about Natasha, or the intricacies of their relationship, to form a real guess. The only thought that echoes in your head is that Wanda would make an incredible mother. So why wasn't she?

You shake your head, your voice dropping to a soft, unsure murmur as you respond. "No, I don't."

She huffs out a little laugh and lifts her hand. You feel the gentle weight of her palm settle on the top of your head, patting you softly.

"Don't worry, I wasn't expecting you to have an answer to that," she says lightly. She ruffles your hair a little with a teasing smile before letting her hand drop away.

The curve of her lips falls just as quickly, her expression turning distant as she looks up in thought.

"When our relationship started to become more serious years ago, I brought up having kids. It just felt like something we should talk about, you know?" she starts, keeping her tone light, though you can hear a subtle strain underneath. "But it felt like every time I brought it up, Wanda would change the subject. I figured maybe she just didn't have the heart to tell me she didn't want them."

Natasha smiles wryly to herself, her voice dropping into a quieter register.

"But then I'd catch her smiling to herself when we'd hear children laughing on our walks. The longing in her eyes whenever we'd see a little girl walking hand in hand with her mother. Then, one day, she looked like she was on the verge of tears after hearing a kid calling out for her mommy. I asked her to finally be honest with me."

Natasha pauses, her gaze fixing on the pond.

"She told me she already has a baby. Not by blood. Not even through papers. But through love. And that baby disappeared from her life one day. She said she couldn't bring herself to have another child... because that was her one and only precious baby."

Your heart clenches as more pieces of the puzzle click together. You know how it felt to never have gotten to say goodbye to your mommy. It must've been unbearable for Wanda.

"Wanda told me so much about her," Natasha murmurs. "The way she'd run up to Wanda and hug her leg to greet her. How she didn't talk much with other kids, but always let them play with the toys before she did. The little smile she'd have on her face when she'd point out shapes in the clouds."

Natasha smiles to herself. It's an expression you haven't seen on her before, lacking the mischievous quirk of her lips when she smirks or the complicated, unreadable emotions in her eyes. Instead, the affection in them is clear. It reminds you of Wanda when she's thinking about the person she misses—the person you now know is the baby she never got to see again.

"I can see why Wanda refused to have any kids. That was her baby," Natasha pauses. "I wonder what kind of family we would've been," Natasha murmurs, the words just barely audible to you, as though she doesn't realize she's saying them out loud.

She finally turns back to you, a wave of understanding settling into her green eyes. "I can see why Wanda sees her in you."

Natasha scans your face, that pitying look from last week returning to her expression. "Wanda hadn't talked about her much for the past few years. It hurt too much. But after meeting you a few months ago, all that hope returned... but it's not good for her. And it's not good for you."

You look down at your jeans, the knowing look on Natasha's face becoming too much to handle. It feels like a spotlight is shining directly on the shameful feelings you've been harboring.

"You like Wanda."

It's not a question, but you respond anyway, your voice barely carrying. "Yes," you murmur, keeping your gaze low.

"Wanda likes you too," Natasha notes plainly.

You try to hide the way the discovery makes you feel, but your body betrays you. Your heart races against your ribs, a sudden wave of heat rushing up to your cheeks.

"You seem like a sweet kid. Maybe if the circumstances weren't what they are, things would be different."

The sudden, serious shift in her voice forces you to look up.

"Wanda is only interested in you because you remind her of her little girl," Natasha says, her tone leveling out into something sharp. "Seeing you keeps the memory of her alive in Wanda. But it'll only hurt her in the end. And you'll be hurt because you'll never be able to fully replace that baby."

Natasha stares at you, the warmth in her eyes turning hard, leaving no room for negotiation.

"If you want to make it up to me, because I know you've been wanting to apologize since we started this conversation, then distance yourself from Wanda."

Your gaze drifts upward, your eyes tracing the patterns of the clouds slowly drifting through the sky. Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth, the pressure of your teeth grounding you as your thoughts race.

The complicated relationship you have with Wanda was something you always knew would reach an end eventually. The baggage you both hold would only become more apparent. The twisted feelings you have for her would start to consume you. You were both projecting someone who wasn't there onto each other.

Hearing Natasha say it out loud, verbalizing the worries you've harbored from the very beginning—makes the reality impossible to ignore, no matter how hard you've tried to bury it the entire time you've known Wanda.

But it's the confirmation that this—that you—would ultimately hurt Wanda that makes the answer obvious.

You have to let go. Even if all you want to do is curl your fingers into Wanda's shirt and melt into her shoulder while she reads to you.

You nod slowly, forcing a small smile onto your face that doesn't come close to reaching your eyes.

"Okay," you whisper.

Your gaze drifts down when Natasha doesn't respond, trying to see if she even heard you. But she's already staring straight at you.

When she finally speaks, her voice is surprisingly soft, filled with a quiet layer of wonder that catches you off guard.

"Jeez," she starts, a short, breathy laugh escaping her lips. "I bet it's that expression that made it so Wanda couldn't keep away. It's exactly how I would've pictured her little girl looking up at the sky."

She shakes her head a little, her brow furrowing slightly as if she's trying to snap herself out of a spell and get her head on straight.

"Let's go," she says, pushing herself up from the bench and smoothing down her suit jacket. "Wanda's probably going crazy waiting for us at the restaurant. The least I can do is buy you a meal before we part ways."

She holds her hand out to you. The gesture reminds you of last week, but the pity in her eyes is absent, replaced by a quiet understanding that this is the right decision, even if it hurts. You reach out, clasping your hand in hers. A wave of gratitude washes over you because you know she's looking out for your heart, too. Maybe if you had let this drag on any further down the line, the ache would've been debilitating.

She pulls you up from the bench, and you both silently turn toward the path. She matches her pace perfectly with yours, refusing to rush even with your slow, lagging steps. You wonder if she can tell you're stalling, trying to stretch out the minutes before you have to say goodbye to Wanda.

You don't feel entirely present. A messy blur of memories, of Her and of Wanda, swirls together in your head until it feels exactly like the day you realized you were never going to see your mommy again.

You're about to take another step forward when Natasha's arm cuts across your path, stopping you dead in your tracks. Her forearm presses firmly against your stomach.

You blink, the sudden impact snapping you out of your head. You finally register that you're standing at the edge of a busy crosswalk, cars speeding by in front of you.

"Didn't your parents teach you to look both ways?" Natasha breathes out sternly, her brow furrowing as she looks at you.

"I—" you start, the words trapping themselves in your throat. You don't want to lie to her, but you can't bring yourself to tell the truth, either. "I'm sorry," you finish lamely, dropping your gaze to stare down at the toes of your sneakers.

Natasha releases a heavy sigh. The rigid lines of her face soften. "No wonder she feels like she needs to take care of you."

Her hand slips easily into yours, her fingers clasping around your hand in a firm hold. "You go when I go, okay?"

Your eyes widen slightly at the contact, feeling the rough callouses on her palm brushing against your skin. It's such a vast difference from Wanda's soft, smooth fingers. But somehow, it feels just as nice. There's a strength in her presence that makes you feel like nothing can touch you as long as she's standing beside you.

You squeeze her hand lightly, a small, genuine grin finally breaking through. "Okay," you agree.

The pedestrian light snaps on, and the crowd of people around you begins to stream forward into the street. Natasha gives your hand a gentle tug, pulling you along. You walk in step with her, your eyes tracking a little girl and her father as they cross in front of you, hand in hand.

—

You and Natasha pass by the large windowpane of the restaurant. You stop in place the moment you catch sight of Wanda through the glass. She's staring at the front door anxiously, her expression shifting from a tight glare to quiet worry.

"What's wrong?" Natasha asks gently when the sudden resistance of your clasped hands stops her from moving forward.

It's better to stop this now, you reason with yourself internally. You don't know what you'll do if you walk inside and Wanda tries to look into your eyes and convince you that this is okay.

You meet Natasha's vibrant, green eyes, forcing your lips to curve upward into a fragile grin. "I just remembered I have a few assignments to finish up. I think I should head back to my apartment now, before it gets too dark."

Natasha's eyes bore into yours. A complex array of unreadable emotions passes through them in a second before they finally soften into a kind gaze. Her hand rises, landing softly on the top of your head just like it did back at the park bench. She ruffles your hair with a rough, but gentle tussle.

"You're a good kid," she murmurs.

Her hand falls away from your head, moving much slower this time than it did before.

"Goodbye, Natasha," you say with finality. Your hand slips out of hers.

It feels like you're suddenly facing the world alone again.

"Goodbye, kid," she whispers back. The usual smooth raspiness in her voice cracks into something that almost sounds unsure.

But you're already turning around, forcing yourself down the pavement in the direction of the bus stop. You peer through the glass one last time as you pass by the front of the restaurant. Wanda is looking down at her wrist, her eyebrows furrowed as she checks the time.

You keep walking.

—

You step into your small bedroom, the door clicking shut behind you. You race across the room and pull open the bottom desk drawer, your hands trembling as you gingerly lift out the stack of drawings and spread them across the wood.

You trace your fingertips over the faded, waxy lines. This is for the best, you tell yourself, desperate to stop the ache in your chest. Now you won't be replacing Her. Now you won't have to carry this suffocating guilt for wanting Wanda while constantly seeing Her through her eyes. Now your life can finally return to its mundane, quiet pace.

Your eyes stop on one of the drawings. It was a clumsy collaboration between the two of you. A picture of a family. You had drawn a wobbly stick figure that was meant to be Her while a smaller, neater stick figure stood beside Her. You. But you had added another stick figure on the other side of you, copying what you had seen in a picture book. A happy family.

She had been your family.

You slowly leaf through the rest of the drawings, letting the old memories replay. It isn't until you reach the very last sketch that it hits you.

You haven't been picturing your mommy’s face at all. In every single memory of the playground, the swing sets, and the naptime room, it's Wanda's green eyes staring back at you.

—

You brace yourself the moment you catch sight of Wanda walking through the grocery store doors in your peripheral vision. You immediately turn your face away right before she can meet your eyes, pretending to be absorbed in organizing the display of impulse buys in front of your register.

The weekend had passed in a blur. It feels like whenever you desperately need time to think, to process, or for the world to just slow down, the universe instinctively knows and spins the clock twice as fast.

When you and Her were separated, you had no options. You were far too young to have a choice, and being stripped away without seeing her one last time—without at least getting to say a proper goodbye—had left a deep scar that you don't think will ever fully heal.

But with Wanda, things are different.

You're an adult now, and the choice to protect your own heart belongs entirely to you.

Natasha is right, you remind yourself, your pulse jumping as Wanda steps up to take her place behind another customer in your checkout line. This is for the best.

But somehow, even though you're the one actively making the choice to build this wall, the ache opening up in your chest feels identical to the day you were forced to leave Her behind.

You take a quiet breath, smoothing down the front of your apron.

"Next," you call out lightly.

Your heart clenches the moment Wanda steps in front of your register. She's wearing a soft, basic white tee. One you had confessed you liked the texture of against your cheek. The high-rise, straight-leg light blue jeans she paired it with give off the vibe of a classic mom outfit you've seen in magazines.

You drop your gaze low the second she smiles softly at you, immediately reaching for her items to begin scanning them.

"Hi, honey," she greets happily, her voice washing over you like a warm blanket. "Natasha told me you couldn't join us for dinner the other day because of assignments. Were you able to complete them?"

Your hand falters for a fraction of a second over a package of produce. Wanda was always so good about asking about your schoolwork without ever being pushy about it. Your adoptive parents had never bothered to ask. They didn't really expect anything from you.

You force yourself to draw a shallow breath, restarting the rhythmic beep of the scanner. You plaster a polite smile onto your face.

"Yes, I was."

You slide the last item across the glass scanner and look up, doing everything in your power to keep your expression neutral. "Did you bring a bag today, or do you need to purchase a paper one?"

Wanda's eyebrows furrow at your tone.

"I brought a bag," she says, her tone dipping into something unsure. She hesitates, leaning slightly over the counter. "Baby, can we talk after your shift? I have something important to talk to you about."

Baby.

You bite the inside of your mouth, but the sharp pain doesn't stop the old scar left behind by Her from tearing open at the corners. You reach your hand out across the register, and Wanda places her reusable bag into your palm, her eyes wide and clouding over with confusion.

"I'm sorry, I have a lot of things to take care of after this," you force out quickly. You carefully but rapidly load Wanda's groceries into the bag. You swipe the fresh receipt off the printer and drop it inside as well before lifting the bag and handing it back to her.

"Have a great rest of your day," you chirp out, trying to keep your voice light.

Wanda just stands there, staring at you, her eyes scanning your face, but you turn your head away.

"What about tomorr—"

"Next," you call out loudly to the next customer.

You immediately begin scanning the next customer's items. Wanda stands at the edge of your register for a long moment. Even without looking up, you can feel the burn of her gaze piercing straight into the side of your head.

She finally turns and walks away. Her steps are noticeably slower this time, the quiet squeak of her sneakers against the floor sounding hollow.

—

You sigh, rolling your shoulders back to relieve some tension. You smooth down the front of your shirt and sling your bag over your shoulder, making your way toward the exit. But right before you can step onto the black mat that triggers the sliding glass doors, you spot Wanda.

She's leaning against the rear bumper of her car, her eyes cast low to her hands, which are clasped tightly in front of her. The corners of her lips are pulled downward, her shoulders drooping heavily.

She looks so alone.

Your mind slips back to a few weeks ago. You remember stepping outside into the parking lot, squinting against the blinding sunlight glinting off the rows of windshields. You had been exhausted, having barely slept a wink because of your roommates hosting people in the living room until the early hours of the morning.

Wanda's arms had suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, catching you off guard as she pulled you flush against her. Her hand came up to rest against the back of your head, gently guiding you down until your cheek was pressed flat against the soft curve of her breast.

Your cheeks had immediately started heating up, the tips of your ears burning. But something about her scent, the sound of her heartbeat in your ear, and the warmth of her body, made you stay still.

"My baby," Wanda had cooed, her breath brushing the crown of your head. "You worked so hard today."

You had let your cheek press even harder into her warmth, your hand automatically reaching up to tightly curl your fingers into the hem of her blouse. It felt like when you were six years old, scraping your knee on the asphalt after falling on the playground. Your mommy would race across the yard to scoop you up, cooing out soft praises to drown out your crying while gently wiping the dirt away with a damp cloth.

It always made everything better.

You're about to take a step forward, ready to race into Wanda's arms, when Natasha's voice rings in your head.

"But it'll only hurt her in the end. And you'll be hurt because you'll never be able to fully replace that baby."

You let your foot drop back down and spin on your heel, turning your back on the parking lot. You walk with purposeful steps to the back exit.

The hurt you and Wanda are feeling right now would pass eventually. Even if it feels like the scar is tearing further and further open.

—

It stays like that for the next two weeks. It becomes an exhausting affair of cutting your conversations with Wanda short or walking away from the register altogether. On the days where there isn't another customer waiting behind her to call forward, you force yourself to invent random tasks that require you to leave your station. You tell her you're being summoned to the back by your manager, even when the register phone hasn't rung once.

And every single time your shift ends, you look out the front glass to see Wanda waiting outside, leaning against the rear bumper of her car exactly the way she always does when she's waiting for you.

She'll find someone else who reminds her of the little girl she lost, you try to convince yourself. Or maybe she'll actually find her baby.

A wave of shame washes over you when the thought of her finding her actual little girl fills you with a spike of anxiousness and jealousy. You had hoped these conflicting feelings would fade into the background as the days bled together, but they only seem to grow heavier, muddying your thoughts until you can barely think straight.

Memories of the past begin to play constantly in your head. Her pushing you on the playground swings. Sitting curled up in Her lap with your head pressed flat against her chest, listening to the thrum of her heartbeat before drifting into your afternoon nap. Her pressing a soft kiss to your forehead at nighttime to ward the bad dreams away.

But the memories are shifting. Your mommy's face blends and smears with Wanda's until the two women are completely indistinguishable.

It's why you're sitting here now. Back at the park bench in front of the pond, watching the ducklings trail behind their mother.

It isn't doing much to clear your head.

Today, one of the tiny ducklings has fallen far behind the rest of the line, struggling against the ripples. The mother duck hasn't noticed the widening gap, continuing to glide confidently ahead.

Your heart clenches painfully at the sight.

Go back, you plead with the mother duck mentally, your eyes boring into her as you grip the edge of the wooden bench. Turn around. You stare hard at her even though you know she can't hear you, and wouldn't understand anyway.

It's nearly empty at the park today. The only things audible to you are your own shallow breathing, the erratic loops of your thoughts, and the dry rustle of leaves shifting in the gentle breeze. Across the pond, the gap between the lone duckling and its family continues to widen. You clench the hem of your shirt, twisting the fabric into your fist until your knuckles turn white. It doesn't bring the same comfort you felt when you were holding onto Wanda's.

"Baby!"

You jump at the sudden sound, your head snapping around in the direction of the voice. Your heart begins to thud against your ribs at the familiar cadence.

Wanda is taking long strides to the bench, her breathing heavy and frantic. You've never seen her look this unraveled before. Her hair is disheveled, tossed about as though she had dragged her fingers through the strands repeatedly without bothering to smooth them back down. She's wearing that same soft white tee—the one you told her you loved the texture of—but the hem is tucked into her jeans haphazardly, half-in and half-out.

The dark shadows beneath her wide green eyes automatically make you bite your lower lip in worry.

"Wan—" you start, but you're abruptly cut off by Wanda hugging your head to her chest.

"My precious baby," she whispers, her voice breaking. She presses a kiss to the top of your head before continuing. "I've missed you so much. Did you not miss me?"

The desperation in her voice sounds exactly like every thought you've had since you distanced yourself. You know you should wiggle out of her grasp and leave, but the words slip past your lips anyway.

"I missed you too," you murmur shakily.

Her heart is beating frantically in your ear. You can almost feel the heavy pulsing of it against your cheek. She continues to hold your head tightly against her, pressing soft kisses to the crown of your head every few seconds. Slowly, her breathing begins to even out, the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat steadying along with it.

Your shoulders drop and you unconsciously lean forward, shifting closer into Wanda's space. Your own pulse begins to calm down, your breathing naturally starting to match the pace of hers. It feels like sitting in your mommy's lap at the facility, about to fall asleep to the steady sound of her heart.

But suddenly, Wanda releases your head. Her hands fall down to frame your face, her palms caressing both of your cheeks gently. She tilts your head up, forcing you to meet her gaze.

She looks infinitely calmer than she did a minute ago. Her hair is still disheveled, but her eyes are bright.

"I knew I'd find you one day," she says, her voice dropping into soft, quiet adoration. "My precious baby."

She strokes your cheekbone with her thumb. You freeze, waiting for the moment her expression will shift, waiting for that familiar look where she starts staring through you at the ghost she's truly directing that love toward.

But she doesn't. This time, it's different. Her focus never wavers.

She's looking straight at you.

"Wanda," you start, your voice tightening uneasily. "I don't think we should keep meet—"

"Mommy," she interrupts suddenly, her tone dropping all the softness. "You mean mommy."

Your breath hitches. The guilt you've been harboring for weeks begins to eat at you all over again. The sickening realization that you've been forgetting Her face and replacing it with Wanda's.

"I-I shouldn't have called you that, that one time," you stutter, trying to pull back against her palms. "Natasha's right. This isn't good for either of us."

Wanda scoffs without a hint of humor. "Natasha doesn't believe me. I told her that it's you. I know it," she says, her voice turning breathless. "I should've known from the very moment I saw you at the store. You could've been in my arms months ago. You're my precious ba—"

"Wanda," Natasha calls out sharply from right behind her.

You shift your eyes over Wanda's shoulder, just barely catching sight of Natasha. She looks like she just got off work, wearing a navy button-up and black slacks. But it's the sharp glare she's sending at Wanda's back that makes you shiver.

Wanda sighs heavily, rolling her eyes but stubbornly refusing to turn around.

"Wanda," Natasha repeats, her voice dropping coldly. "What you're doing isn't right. She's just a kid. Stop projecting onto her. It isn't fair to her, and it isn't fair to yourself."

Wanda finally turns around, keeping one hand firmly on your cheek while she points the index finger of her other hand at Natasha. "It'd be projecting if it wasn't her. But it is, Natasha."

"Because she said 'bye bye, mommy' to you?" Natasha asks, her tone flat and unimpressed. "I know that's what your little girl used to say, Wanda. But have you considered that maybe you trying to act like her mom all this time might have confused her?"

Wanda's hand finally drops from your cheek. You can see her eyes flashing with anger right before she takes a step toward Natasha.

"Moya lyubov," Natasha says suddenly. Her voice drops unusually low, filling with emotion that catches you off guard. "I would love if she's our—your baby. But you need to stop letting your emotions cloud your judgment."

"My judgment is not clouded, Natalia," Wanda hisses out. "She's my baby. The same baby that would sit in my lap and look up at the sky with wide eyes. The baby that would tug on the hem of my shirt to get my attention because she was so little. My little girl that would look for me when her shoes were untied. My precious baby that was taken from me at that facility, the one I didn't get to say goodbye to. I'm not letting anyone take her away from me again."

It feels like time has stopped. With every sentence that leaves Wanda's lips, the memories replay in flashes. Quiet afternoons spent sitting in your mommy's lap while she traced shapes in the clouds with her finger. The habit you developed of reaching out to tightly curl your fingers into her shirt so she would pay attention to you. Her crouching down on the floor, smiling up at you as she took your tiny shoes in her hands to tie them.

Facility. The word echoes loudly in your head. It's too specific.

You can barely hear the two of them arguing anymore over the sound of your loud, racing thoughts. It feels like it takes an eternity before you finally manage to refocus your vision.

Your gaze immediately falls back on Wanda. She's standing right in Natasha's face, while Natasha stares down at her with a hard, unyielding expression.

"Are you trying to hurt me, Natalia? If so, then—"

"Do you still have the drawings?" you ask, your voice surprisingly clear.

Wanda stops shouting instantly. She snaps her head around, turning to face you with wide, hopeful eyes.

Inside your heart, you know it's her. Your mommy. But a part of you—the part that had to let her go and live with the ache for fourteen years—needs the confirmation. You need to see them with your own eyes. For your head to agree with your heart.

"Of course," Wanda breathes out, her voice trembling. "I would never get rid of them."

"Can I see them?" you ask shakily.

Wanda shifts her gaze over to Natasha. It feels like the tension between them has evaporated. Natasha’s mouth is slightly agape, her eyes unreadable as she squints at you.

"They're at our home," Wanda says slowly, turning her focus back to your face. Over her shoulder, you see Natasha give a tight nod. "Are you okay with coming home with us?"

You nod immediately, your gaze unwavering.

You have no idea how you'll actually feel after seeing those papers. There's so many things to address. So many complicated feelings to examine.

But right now, you just need to know with certainty that it's her.

"Okay," Natasha says, her tone dropping into a flat, unreadable register. "Let's go then. The car is parked nearby."

Your eyes drift out across the pond one last time as you push yourself up from the bench.

The mother duck had finally gone back for her struggling duckling. The drake is right there beside her, too. The little duckling is swimming perfectly sandwiched between the two of them.

—

You're sitting at their dining room table. Natasha sits at the head of the table while you sit directly beside her. You can feel her staring at the side of your face, but it feels like you're stuck inside your own head.

The drive to their house had felt like a blur. You want to feel excited. You know you probably should be. But what about the romantic feelings you harbor toward Wanda?

The lines have all become twisted now, far more than they ever were before.

What scares you most is the weird sense of calm settling over you with that realization. Wanda was the first person to teach you about love. The first hug. The first kiss, even if it wasn't on the lips. It feels almost fitting that she's also your first romantic love, even if you know the lines blurring between Wanda being your mommy and just Wanda, the adult woman, is wrong.

You hear the rustling of papers and suddenly Wanda is sitting in front of you on the other side of Natasha. She sets the stack of papers between you, before fanning them out gingerly. You suck in a deep breath, your hand reaching out. Your fingertips trace the waxy lines and it's like you can see the day you drew them with her.

The yellow of the sun mixed with random blacks and browns that you could never get out of the point of the crayon brings you back to the sunny day you drew it. She always liked having you in her lap even on hot days. She'd hold your hands in front of you, narrating her day while moving them.

It's like you can hear her voice clearer now in those memories. Wanda's voice.

Your eyes drag across the array of drawings. Sometimes it was just playing tic-tac-toe. Sometimes a drawing of what you did together that day. One of them is just you, beaming at her. Wanda. Your mommy.

Your gaze lands on the last drawing. It's closest to Natasha. Her fingertips are tracing one of the figures in it. It's a simple drawing. A stick figure of you and Wanda. But on the other side of you is another wobbly person. It reminds you of the drawing you have back at your apartment, but this one is slightly different. You read your messy handwriting.

Mommy+Me+Daddy

A complete family. You realize now that there's no such thing as a truly perfect version of one, but back then, it was what you thought you wanted more than anything.

You hear Natasha suck in a breath before the sharp sound of her chair scraping against the floor breaks the quiet.

"I have some things from work that I need to look at," she states, her posture stiffening. "You two should talk."

She's already turning on her heel and walking away before either of you get a chance to say a word.

You stare at her empty chair, a strange part of you wishing she had stayed, even though you barely know her.

"You know…" Wanda starts quietly, drawing your focus back across the table. "I would stare at these drawings all the time whenever I missed you. Which was every single day." She lets out a small, watery chuckle, moving her gaze from the papers to lock onto your face.

Her eyes are shining with tears, the edges of her face suddenly becoming slightly blurry.

You blink, realizing it's your own eyes welling up that are making her image distort.

"I got a 98 on my assignment a few weeks ago," you whisper. You finally get to tell her.

A wide, radiant smile stretches across her face. "That's amazing, baby!" she praises with excitement. "You were always a little genius."

Sparks of happiness bloom through your chest at the words you've been wanting to hear since you first received that grade. It makes your next thought slip past your lips without hesitation.

"A-And I missed you all this time," you admit, your voice dropping into something wobbly and small.

For the past few weeks, the last fourteen years, every time she would have to go home after you fell asleep at bedtime.

Wanda reaches her hand across the table, her thumb gently brushing your tears away even as a fresh wave continues to fall. The touch reminds you of all the times she would crouch down on the floor after you had a bad dream or fell on the playground, smiling softly at you while wiping your cheeks. Exactly like she's doing right now.

"I bet I missed you more," Wanda says, her tone morphing into an almost teasing register, though you can hear the truth bleeding through it.

You shake your head, opening your mouth ready to quip back, but Wanda gently shushes you, her eyes shifting down to check the watch resting on her left wrist.

"We'll talk more tomorrow, but I think it's about time that you go to bed. You discovered a lot of big things today," she says, her voice raising a pitch.

You agree blindly, nodding at her words without checking the time yourself. Your eyes are already starting to droop, the weight of all the emotions and discoveries of the day having exhausted you.

Wanda's hand drops from your cheek. She holds it out in front of you instead, and your hand slips into hers automatically. She lists out a few different articles of clothing that you can borrow while she walks you down the long hallways, her fingers tightly intertwined with yours.

It doesn't occur to you that she never actually asked if you wanted to stay over. Or that you could have easily just followed behind her without her holding your hand.

—

You step into the bedroom Wanda leads you into, the fresh clothes she lent you loose against your body. The long sleeves of Natasha's oversized t-shirt fall past your elbows, the hem swallowing the sleep shorts Wanda lent you. You blink slowly, trying to map out the contours of the unfamiliar space. The room is only lit by a nightlight plugged into the baseboard near the bed, casting a dim, yellow glow across the sheets.

Your eyes are drawn to a bright, yellow duckling plushie propped against the pillows. Half of its fuzzy body is covered by the comforter, carefully tucked in.

Wanda walks you over to the side of the bed. She pulls the covers open, waiting for you to slip inside, her fingers still securely laced with yours even as she adjusts the blankets over your chest. You lift your free arm out from beneath the covers, your fingers gently holding the duckling's wing, the soft material warming your palm.

Wanda kneels beside the mattress. She rests her elbow on top of the covers, propping her chin in her hand.

"I bought that for you a long time ago," she says, keeping her voice low and soft. "It was supposed to be a birthday present, but you were gone before I could give it to you."

You feel her fingers squeeze your hand a little tighter.

"But now you're here." Her voice shifts, raising into that higher, melodic pitch. "Mommy will make sure we always get to stay together from now on."

Is this okay? you question to yourself tiredly. The rational part of your brain knows you need to talk to her about this. About the romantic feelings you have for her. But exhaustion washes over you.

You can sort things out with Wanda in the morning.

Wanda leans forward, her face hovering over yours. You close your eyes automatically, ready for the gentle forehead kiss she always gave you to ward the bad dreams away.

But instead of pressure against your forehead, you feel something soft press flat against your lips.

Your eyes snap open at the sensation, your gaze dropping down to see Wanda's lips flush against yours. You gasp at the sight, but instead of moving away, you freeze as Wanda's tongue slips easily past your lips.

Her tongue explores your mouth before dragging the tip of it against yours. Your face flushes instantly at the feeling, your breaths becoming ragged.

You've never done anything like this before. You know you should feel ashamed for accepting it, but instead of the guilt burning through you, a sudden heat begins to pool in your lower stomach.

Wanda tilts your chin up, forcing your mouth to open wider. She coaxes your tongue to move, stroking hers against yours with intoxicating pressure. You try to press back clumsily, attempting to copy what she's doing, but Wanda takes control. Every time you try to press down, she easily slips her way out, winning the strange game of wrestling taking place between your lips.

Saliva begins to drool down the side of your mouth slowly. Wanda presses her upper body flush against yours, your breasts squishing against her larger one through the thin fabric of Natasha's shirt. You squirm beneath her weight, an uncomfortable stickiness beginning to build in your panties.

Wanda lets out a low chuckle against your lips. "You're so messy, baby," she murmurs.

You flush, thinking she's noticed, but instead she leans back slightly. She wipes away the stray saliva with the pad of her thumb. She licks it away, staring down at you with dark, blown-out pupils. But despite the heat radiating off her, her expression holds that same soft smile she used to give you right before she said goodnight at the facility.

You stare up at her hazily, your lips tingling and swollen from the force of the kiss. You hear her groan quietly, her teeth biting into her own lower lip. She leans forward again, giving you a quick, firm peck.

"Don't look at me like that, sweetie. I won't know when to stop." Her warm palm caresses your cheek one last time, her eyes softening. "I just had to give a goodnight kiss to my precious baby," she whispers.

Before you can even try to form a coherent thought, her fingers slide away and she's standing up by the side of the bed.

"Sleep tight," she says in a sing-song tone before closing the bedroom door behind her.

Your breathing is still ragged, your heart threatening to beat straight out of your chest. Your head feels empty, as if Wanda had managed to kiss every single thought out of your brain. You turn your head slightly, catching sight of the glowing digital clock on the bedside table.

It's 9:35 PM.

It's much earlier than you would ever normally go to sleep. You try to remember the last time you were actually in bed at this hour. The image of your bedroom at the facility flashes through your head.

It was the mandatory bedtime there.

You tightly squeeze your thighs together, desperately trying to ignore the shameful, sticky ache pooling between them.

—

You wake to the distant, muffled sounds of metal clanking together. Your eyes open slowly, blinking blearily against the bright morning rays cutting through the curtains of the window. You shift slightly beneath the covers, feeling something soft and fuzzy resting in your arms.

Your eyes drift down lazily, finding the yellow duckling plushie safely cradled against your chest.

You blink again. Your vision clears, and your eyes widen as the entirety of yesterday begins to replay in flashes.

Wanda showing up at the park. Her unraveled, disheveled state. Natasha appearing on the path. The two of them arguing. The memories of the facility crashing back. The crayon drawings spread across the dining room table. This duckling.

Wanda kissing you on the lips, sliding her tongue into your mouth.

You sit up abruptly in the bed, your heart hammering against your ribs as you hug the duckling plushie even tighter against your chest.

Wanda—your mommy—had kissed you. And you had liked it.

You bury your face into the duckling plushie, its soft, fuzzy material barely doing anything to comfort the rising panic.

"What's wrong with you?" you whisper into the fabric.

Shame creeps through your body, making you cringe inward. This isn't right, you tell yourself internally. The lines were blurring until you could barely see them anymore. But deep down, you know the truth.

They were probably blurred from the very moment you met Wanda at the register. The moment you saw your mommy in her.

You throw the covers off your body and clamber out of the bed. The cold wooden floor bleeds through the soles of your bare feet, but you press forward anyway, cracking the bedroom door open and creeping outside into the hallway.

You follow the sound of clanking metal. Somehow, the sound feels like a beacon of clarity. And you need clarity more than anything else right now.

It's only when you finally reach the door the muffled sounds are echoing from, that your gaze drops down. You're still carrying the yellow duckling plushie, its fuzzy wing tightly pinched between your trembling fingers.

You pull the handle of the door down slowly, cracking it open just enough for you to slip through the gap. Immediately, you're hit with the bright light of the sunlit garage. The main door is raised, a sleek, old-school car parked right at the opening with its hood popped open. You can just barely see Natasha's profile as she leans deep over the engine bay.

You breathe out a quiet sigh of relief, that weird feeling of protection you feel around her returning.

You take quiet, careful steps forward, maneuvering around the power tools scattered across the large concrete space until Natasha comes fully into view. Her hair is tied tightly back so the strands don't get in her way while she works. She's wearing a plain white tank top accompanied by a dark pair of blue jeans. Both the fabric and her bare skin are marked with black streaks of grease, her hands coated in it as well.

It's reminiscent of Wanda's outfit yesterday, but it holds a different kind of feeling.

She doesn't even blink when you approach, quietly sinking down to sit on the concrete right next to the toolbox at her feet.

You place your duckling in your lap, squeezing it's wings between your fingers as you tilt your head up to watch Natasha work. With every minute that passes between the quiet clanging and Natasha's steady breaths, your thoughts begin to calm.

You look down at the duckling, flapping its wings slowly to build up some courage.

"It's not normal… the relationship between me and Wanda, is it?" you mumble so quietly, you think Natasha probably didn't hear it.

But Natasha turns her head toward you, a bead of sweat on the bridge of her nose and a fresh streak of motor oil across her cheek. She looks down at you sitting by her feet and gives you a small smirk.

"What's even considered normal anymore?"

"I-I mean," you start, your voice trailing off as you struggle to find the right words. You release a breath, your shoulders dropping. How can you explain a relationship to someone else when you haven't even figured it out yourself?

Instead, your mind shifts to the other issue at hand.

"But you guys are married," you state. You can hear all the unsureness and anxiety you're harboring inside bleeding through your voice.

"We are," Natasha responds in that same nonchalant, steady tone.

You bite your bottom lip, gnawing lightly on the skin as you try to force up enough courage to ask the real questions screaming in your head.

How are you so calm about this? Are you actually okay with this? Your wife kissed me last night.

"Don't get me wrong," she starts, turning her focus back to the engine. "I love Wanda more than anything in this world. We've been together through our absolute lows and our highs." She pauses, screwing a heavy bolt into place.

You nervously shift your arm against your knee when the long sleeve of her oversized t-shirt slips down, impeding your movements.

Natasha pauses what she's doing. She slowly wipes her grease-stained hands on the towel hanging off the edge of the open hood. Suddenly, she drops down to crouch in front of you. She reaches her hands out and takes your wrist, beginning to carefully fold the sleeves up your arms.

Her voice is remarkably soft when she finally speaks. "Wanda loves you. And I can tell you love her. It's not the most conventional kind of love," she starts, continuing to hold onto your wrists even after she finishes folding your sleeves up.

She meets your eyes. The tenderness swimming in her gaze makes you pause.

"I imagine you're curious what my thoughts are on all of this."

You nod slowly. Her brows furrow unsurely.

"I never thought I needed a family outside of Wanda," she says quietly, her thumbs resting against your pulse points. "But then she told me about her little girl, and I couldn't help but imagine what our life would look like with her in it. As for the other feelings…"

She trails off, the sentence hanging heavy in the air. She finally releases your wrists and pushes herself up, standing to her full height.

She looks down at you from above, a complex mix of emotions swirling in her steady stare.

"I'm not sure yet."

You nod quietly to yourself. Her answer makes sense.

She moves back toward the open engine bay, reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone.

"Wanda says to go inside. She made breakfast. I'll eat after I finish this." She tilts her head back down to face you, a small, knowing grin tugging at her lips. "I texted her the moment you cracked that door open. Told her we were having da—"

She cuts herself off suddenly, clearing her throat before continuing.

"Time together," she says. "She'd be worried sick if she walked into your room and found you missing."

Your cheeks instantly heat up. You hadn't been as sneaky as you thought you were.

After opening up to Natasha, the panic from when you first woke up feels distant now. The thought of going inside to see Wanda sends a flutter of warmth through your chest.

You reach your hand out, your fingers gently tugging on the fabric of Natasha's jeans.

You look straight up at her with wide eyes. "Can… can we do this again?" you murmur, your voice small and hopeful.

Natasha stares down at you, her eyes softening the longer she takes you in.

"That's not fair," she murmurs quietly to herself. She clears her throat, her teasing smirk quickly returning to her lips. "You're going to have to learn about the tools next time if you want to be a proper helper."

You nod excitedly, beaming up at her before finally releasing her jeans from your grip. You stand up from the floor, holding the duckling's fuzzy wing in your hand while you stretch your tight muscles with a small groan.

"Go on now," Natasha laughs softly, her eyes dropping back down toward the car engine. "Wanda's waiting for you, little girl."

You take a step forward toward the house door, but you turn your head back just to catch sight of her one last time before leaving. Her eyes are bright, a gentle smile on her lips.

—

You retrace your steps from last night, navigating the unfamiliar hallways. The quiet sound of Wanda's soft humming guides you whenever you take a wrong turn, drawing you forward.

You peek around the corner of the hallway, Wanda's back coming into view. She's wearing a pair of simple black leggings paired with a soft-looking brown sweater, the yellow strings of an apron tied into a neat bow around her waist. She walks easily around the vast kitchen, barely even having to scan the counters to find what she needs, as though she's done this a million times before.

It feels… domestic.

It's a feeling you never experienced during your childhood, your adoptive parents always defaulting to leaving cash on the kitchen island for you to buy your own food for the day. Around Wanda, it feels like the morning sunlight streaming through the windows is somehow brighter, warmer.

She turns around suddenly, spotting you immediately just like she used to do whenever she arrived at the foster care facility. Her eyes brighten instantly, a joyous smile pulling at her cheeks.

"Good morning, baby," she calls out in that sweet, sing-song voice. She waves you over toward the counter. "Come here and pick out what you want for breakfast. I made a variety since your tastes may have changed."

You step around the corner, the duckling plushie swinging loosely in your hand. But instead of stopping in front of the bowl of cut fruit or the plate of sandwiches, you walk straight into Wanda, bumping into her.

Wanda's arms immediately wrap around you, her warm hand stroking the back of your head. "Is something wrong, sweet girl? Did you not have a good talk with Natasha?" she asks, a gentle lilt of concern entering her tone.

You shake your head, your cheeks swishing against the fabric of Wanda's apron. You tilt your chin up, looking up at her with wide, confused eyes.

"I… I feel like it's wrong to like you in this way. In both ways," you start, your voice trailing off unsurely. "I-I've never kissed anyone before, and I don't know if the way I reacted last night is normal."

You pause. Your cheeks instantly blaze with heat at what you just admitted out loud. "Um—" you start, desperately trying to change the subject.

"So… I was your first kiss?" Wanda whispers. You catch the familiar glint of guilt in her eyes like when she first traced your lip.

You nod shyly, looking down at the floor as the tips of your ears burn with embarrassment.

Wanda's hand gently cups your jaw, her fingers tilting your chin back up. Her pupils are dark and dilated as she looks down at your face, the affection in them unmistakable.

"I don't think it's wrong," she says, moving her face closer and closer until you can feel the warm ghost of her breath against your lips. "Mommy loves you so much, and that love grew into something more. Isn't that a good thing?"

Your mind goes blank for a moment.

Is that right? you think to yourself. It sounds convincing, but your conscience still wavers. Wanda's lips move even closer to yours, the sweet scent of flowers washing heavily over your senses and making your head turn fuzzy.

"I-I guess it's a good thing," you murmur, your voice wobbly and small.

She presses her soft lips firmly against yours, making your heart flutter uncontrollably. Her fingers hold your jaw a little tighter, angling your chin until it's just right for her. You hold the plush wing of your duckling tighter in your fist, your free hand rising to find the hem of Wanda's sweater, tightly curling the fabric around your fingers when it feels like you're almost out of breath.

Wanda finally leans back, her lips parting from yours with a quiet pop. She smiles gently down at you. Her expression is so different from the hungry, desperate way she just kissed you, making your head spin.

"Ready for breakfast now, sweetheart? Natasha will join us in just a bit."

You nod slowly, the complicated, racing thoughts you've had all morning suddenly vanishing from your mind. "Yes, Wanda," you respond softly.

Wanda gazes down at you with a hopeful expression, her head tilted slightly as if she's waiting for something.

"Yes… mommy," you blurt out quickly, the tips of your ears burning all over again.

She beams at you, affectionately stroking your cheek one last time before turning back to the stove, where sausages and eggs are sizzling in pans. She begins listing out all the different things you can eat, while you glance down at the yellow duckling in your hand. You bring the plushie up, wrapping both of your arms tightly around its fuzzy body and squishing it against your chest.

The idea of calling Wanda mommy had sent pangs of guilt and shame through you. But actually saying the word out loud to her now, you feel the guilt lessen a fraction.

Wanda turns back to you suddenly, her green eyes sparkling with joy.

"Welcome home, my precious baby." —

A/N: i actually enjoy writing for this AU quite a bit. expect to see reader calling wanda mommy on her own and wanda going feral over it, daddy daughter date with natasha in which they get closer, perhaps wandanat meeting reader's adoptive parents. let me know if you have any other ideas. thanks for reading!

— Taglist♡: @methealt @whyareyoulookinguphere @three3ofswords @vyvvycg @maddsdotorg @gumboug @ciaoooooo111 @rileyisacutie @hapuchika @megsheather @libbyofc @sokovianpuppy @ghostqeen @begpuppi @robs-24 @honeydollkisses @prentisszlover @princessmac @theperfectparadoxxx @heartzz4yuuuu @hereforthefanficsaphic @scarwid @saffrontieee @anqyuicka @sevikasoneandonlywife @swiftieortega13 @ira-16 @sapphicqueenofdonuts @brieflyinnersentinel @lisomaniadalton @swordnshild @plsnik @lolzblues55 @purpleguywithahat @blisbuni @bravelydauntlesssecret

The last strike of the cane landed on your backside and you couldn't help but let out a breath of relief. 

You didn’t move, your breaths coming out in shallow gasps as you tried to regain some sort of a composure. 

“Good?” Asked Wanda as she moved to take the cuffs off of your wrists. They cuffed your arms behind your back at the beginning of the scene but by now you could barely feel anything, your limbs numb from no movement. 

“Yes.” You answered robotically.  

You didn’t enjoy it much, the cane. It left a sting that forced tears that had nothing to do with pleasure, but every ‘Color?’ was answered with ‘Green’.

You were far too afraid that if you told them you didn’t enjoy something they would end the arrangement and you would be left without an income. An income that you desperately needed to get by. Rent, tuition, food, none of that would pay itself. 

“I’m gonna go grab some lotion for her.” Muttered Natasha as she eyed you, unsure if you were just recovering from the intense canning or if something was genuinely wrong. 

Natasha and Wanda were good dominants, asked all the right questions, negotiated everything, though their care was more on the impersonal side. You were not their girlfriend or a wife. You were simply someone they paid for a good time. To be their little toy for the weekend and then go home. 

Every move, every word, every decision told you you were simply a person providing a service and nothing more. You were okay with that, that was what you signed up for after all. And they did pay you well, each sunday ending with a generous transaction. 

You only saw them through the weekend. They were far too busy with their company during the week and liked to keep their weekday evenings free for relaxation while you were left juggling school and your two other jobs throughout the day. 

You felt the mattress dip by your side as Wanda slowly stroked your hair. “I hope these are not sad tears.” She murmured. 

You shook your head immediately. “I liked it.” 

You did not. You wanted to stop before it even started. 

It was them who introduced you to the world of BDSM, though they weren’t really aware of it. You told them you were experienced. 

It wasn't like you hated everything. Being tied up was nice, especially when they edged you or overstimulated you. The paddle was fun too, hurting just enough to make you crave more, while slick covered the inside of your thighs. Being called a ‘good girl’ made you squirm and your hips buck more than anything else. You truly found a lot of it enjoyable, but there were certain aspects of it that made you want to hide away and cry, but you often found yourself saying ‘yes’ and ‘green’ even when your body yelled at you to say ‘stop’. This was a job after all. You were hired to be their submissive. To fulfil their needs as dominants. 

So when Natasha suggested the cane you said yes, just like always. You were here to please them, that’s what they were paying you for. The least you could do was say yes. 

“Got the lotion.” Said Natasha as she approached you and sat down on your other side. You heard her open the cap and squeeze some of it onto her palm, the sound more sharp than normal. “This is going to sting a bit.” She muttered. 

You gave her a small nod, just to show her you heard her, though the second her palm touched your aggravated skin you hissed sharply. Natasha was quick to pull her hand away. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, just stings.” You murmured, your voice strained. 

She only hesitated for a second, before her hand reached out again. “I know, the lotion will help. I promise.” 

The initial contact felt like being burned by fire, but you powered through and soon you were able to settle into the touch. The sting didn't immediately disappear, but it dulled enough to not make you whimper in pain. 

They gave you a few more minutes to rest, Wanda helped you roll onto your back and sit up, while Natasha handed you a bottle of water. They both watched carefully as you drank most of it, your mouth feeling like it was filled with sand. 

“Let’s get you to bed.” Said Wanda moments later as she helped you stand up. They had a special room where they did scenes, where they completely took you apart. Once everything was over they would always lead you to their guest room, while they quietly retreated to their own master bedroom. The simple gesture always left you feeling dirty, almost as if you weren’t worth their bed, but you knew the rules. This was strictly just sex, they were not looking for a companionship. 

Wanda helped you lay down when you reached the bed, while Natasha placed another bottle of water on the nightstand. “We’ll be in the bedroom if you need anything. Sleep well.” Said Wanda, her voice lowering. 

All I need is the money. 

“Good night.” You murmured as they closed the door to the guest room and the darkness engulfed you. You desperately tried to shake off the feeling of abandonment. You couldn't understand why you felt so down and shaken, you’ve done scenes you hadn’t really enjoyed that much before, but you were always fine. Why was this so different? 

Whatever. Nothing a bit of sleep won’t fix.  

You closed your eyes, hoping to will the sting away. The money you would receive tomorrow would make it all worth it. Even if you felt like a disgusting, used piece of toy. 

You hadn’t felt this disgusted with yourself since this arrangement started. That first night with them leaving you to question all your morals but you truly had no choice. 

______________

The end of your junior year was approaching quickly and with that the last tuition payment as well. You had it all under control, until you didn’t. 

The past three years were spent running between school in the morning, waitressing in the evening and bartending during the night. It was a lot and you barely had enough time to breathe, but you managed to pay the bills that needed to be paid, though you were often left with barely enough money to afford food. Sometimes all you had left was 20$, and sometimes you managed to save enough to feel like royalty, though you guessed actual royalty felt much different than you did. 

And then it all came crashing down on you in February. Your landlord unexpectedly raised the rent, which meant you had to pick up even more shifts. That was somehow manageable, but then your laptop broke down. And that was truly your downfall. You were in university, you needed a laptop to survive, but the repair cost so much you didn’t have enough for the upcoming tuition installment. 

You paid what you could, leaving a small amount of money in your bank account to afford some food, and promised yourself you would make up for it next month. The next month was the same, and your balance showed you were still almost one full tuition payment short. 

You worked hard to pay it off, and yet, when May arrived and it was time to pay the rest of the tuition off you were more than 2000$ short. 

Then one monday you received an email. Your hands shook and your heart stopped beating for a second as you saw the title. 

Final Notice: Outstanding Tuition Balance

You hesitated for a second before you opened it, wishing you could just pretend it didn't exist, but you knew that was not how life worked. You simply couldn’t run away from it. 

Tears gathered in your eyes as you opened the email. You couldn’t even read the whole message but the most important information stood out clearly. 

Outstanding balance of 4500$.

Failure to meet the deadline might result in a suspension of enrolment. 

By Monday, 25th of May, 1:00 PM. 

You had less than 7 days to get over 2000$. No amount of extra shifts was ever going to solve this, but you still tried asking. Both of your bosses turned you down, claiming there were no extra shifts to give. 

You tried asking for an extension too, claiming it was an extraordinary issue and that by September everything would be paid off. They turned you down too. 

The emergency loan didn’t work out either. 

You could drop out, that would technically make the problem disappear, but you didn’t want to give up now. You had one more year to get through and then you would finally be out of this mess. 

Just when it seemed like this would be the only way to get out of this situation, you overheard two girls talking in the lecture hall while you waited for your morning lecture to start. 

“Ugh, there’s this cute handbag I want to get, but I can’t fucking afford it.” Whined one of the girls. The sound made you wince, you could already tell what type of person she was and it made you despise her before even talking to her. 

“Show me.” Gasped the other girl, curious to see what it could possibly look like. The first girl swiftly pulled out her phone, the webpage with the handback already loaded as she turned the screen towards her friend. 

“It’s so cute though.” Dreamed the other girl, her eyes shining with adoration. 

“Yeah, look at the price.” Scoffed the first girl, the unhappiness clearly written across her face.  

Her friend gasped as she handed her the phone back. “Oh shit girl, that’s worth at least like one kidney.” 

The first girl whined again, the sound cutting through your head. “I know! Fuck it, I need to get myself a sugar daddy. That would solve everything.” 

They both laughed, obviously understanding it was just a harmless joke, but to you it sounded like salvation. 

The idea disgusted you. You were a lesbian, and having to interact with a man that you were not interested in at all left a bad taste in your mouth but you were desperate. 

Maybe we could just talk. Some of them just want dinner and that’s it, right?

You had less than 5 days left, you had to do something. 

That night you searched through the internet. Most of the websites felt much like a scam or straight up like a prostitution website but then you came across the one that would change everything for you. 

SugarDatingNYC

You clicked on it and you were surprised to see the simple, professional design. It seemed more like a corporate webpage rather than a place where one could pay someone for their time. 

The initial link only showed the basics. How it worked. Verification. Rules.

You didn’t see anyone’s profile. You needed your own profile for that. 

You didn’t immediately clink the ‘Sign Up’ button. You couldn’t believe you let yourself get to this point. There was nothing wrong with sex work, if that was what one wanted to do then good for them. But this was not the future you envisioned for yourself. Having to sell yourself just to afford basic necessities. 

You stared at the screen blankly for a few minutes, but your desperation won in the end. You did not want to be kicked out of the school. 

You signed up, but left your profile blank, your profile picture empty. You did not want anyone to see you on a webpage like this. You told yourself you would just look through to see who was on it, how much money they were offering for what type of stuff. 

Some just wanted to text, some wanted pictures, some wanted actual dinners. The money was nice but nowhere near enough compared to what you really needed. 

Then you looked at the profiles of people who wanted something more, something physical, and that’s when you found prices that would actually solve your issue, but the thought made you nauseous. Most of them were men, the profiles filled with sleazy photos and creepy descriptions, the language making you wince. 

No, you did not want to be a slave that would serve her master or a sex toy that would do anything for her daddy. 

No money was worth this. 

And then you stumbled upon their profile. Natasha and Wanda. A Married couple, both dominant, looking for a submissive, women only. Their profile was clean, professional, and it felt like finding a needle in a haystack. 

They wanted a dinner first, to discuss preferences and boundaries, promising a generous compensation. 1500$. It wasn’t enough but it was better than nothing and their profile was the only one that did not make you want to curl into a corner and cry. 

Your fingers hovered above the keyboard, wondering what you should write. Each message left unfinished before you deleted it. Frustrated, you put the phone away, deciding to let it be for now. 

The next morning you woke up even more drained than usual. School, work, another work, all of it passed with you barely noticing, your brain working on autopilot. Soon you were in the same place as yesterday, laying in bed and staring at that damn webpage. You found their profile again.

You pondered, but then you finally made the decision. You truly needed the money and there really was no time to waste. It didn’t matter to you that you weren’t a submissive. Or at least you weren’t aware of it. You weren’t totally clueless, you knew one side had control and the other didn’t, you knew people liked being tied up, liked being hit, but you’ve never tried it before so you couldn’t really tell if that was something you were into. It didn’t matter though. If they wanted a submissive, they would get one. 

You redid your profile, added a picture, a description, perfectly tailored the profile to what they wanted, adjusting the language over and over again to match their tone. 

And then you messaged them, your hands shaking with nerves. 

Hi, I really like your profile. Would you be up for a meet up? I’m available any time. 

You didn’t expect a quick response, after all it was middle of the night, and perhaps they didn’t even visit the website that often. You put the phone away as your heart beat dramatically. You couldn’t believe you’ve done this. You closed your eyes and tried to sleep, but your current situation left you feeling restless. It wasn’t until your alarm was almost about to go off that your brain finally decided to quiet down. 

You checked the webpage the second you opened your eyes and you couldn’t tell if you were relieved or disappointed to find your message unanswered. They hadn’t seen it yet, which was a good sign, it at least meant they hadn't completely dismissed you, but it left you feeling uneasy. 

It was during the second lecture of the day, while the lecturer was setting up his presentation for the class that you decided to check the webpage again. Your eyes widened when you saw you got 2 new messages. 

Tonight, 8PM. Here’s the address. 

The second message was an address of a restaurant, which you immediately looked up. It was luxurious and expensive, located in a part of the city you don’t venture in accidentally. Clearly meant for wealthy people to visit.  

You were a bit startled to see there was no hello or an introduction, just a simple instruction with time and place. What if they’re serial killers? 

You shook the unwanted thoughts away and typed back.

I’ll be there. 

Your shift at the bar was supposed to start at 9 PM, there was no way you would be able to make it. You opened the chat with your boss and messaged him that you wouldn’t be able to make it tonight. 

_____________

“You think we should text her back?” Asked Wanda as she stared at the opened chat in Natasha’s phone. 

Natasha just shrugged her shoulders as she answered indifferently. “We can try. What do we have to lose?” 

“She seems eager.” Murmured Wanda thoughtfully. 

“Yeah, she probably wants the money.” Chuckled Natasha. She knew what the girls on these sorts of apps wanted. Easy money to buy luxurious stuff. It wasn’t like it bothered her, but she did find it humorous at times. 

“Let’s just meet up with her tonight, the worst that can happen is that she won’t show up.” Argued Natasha. 

“Okay.” Sighed Wanda, the excitement missing in her voice. 

They had a happy marriage, some would argue that it was too happy. They loved each other dearly and were more than enough for one another. But over the years their sexual desires grew, what started as a very vanilla sex slowly evolved into more kinkier stuff. However, that’s when they realized one important factor. Neither of them were truly submissive. Both of them could relinquish power every now and then, but the simple truth was that both women simply enjoyed being dominant more. 

It wasn’t a marriage ending type of issue for them, but they both secretly hoped for some sort of a solution. 

Neither of them expected for that solution to arrive so soon. 

They were hanging out with some of their friends, everyone in the circle having known each other for years at this point, which meant that no topic was too sensitive to discuss. 

It started off calmly, everyone simply catching up on what they’ve been up to lately, eating dinner and sharing wine. 

It was later that evening that the conversation turned into a very intense sexual discussion, each friend spilling one confession after another. Wanda and Natasha kept quiet, not revealing much about their own sexual escapades, since they preferred to keep that private. 

That didn’t last long as suddenly one friend turned to the married couple and bluntly asked. “So, who’s the dominant one?”

Both women stared in shock, not really sure what to say. “Uh, I mean, we both are?” Answered Wanda, her voice hesitant. 

“What do you mean?” Asked another friend, placing her elbows on the table as she stared at them intensely, smirk adoring her face. She was always the one that loved winding people up, and she was thoroughly enjoying this moment. 

“Well, we can both sub, but we both prefer being on the dominant side.” Answered Wanda again, a bit more sheepish. 

“So how does that work then?”

“It works just fine, thanks for asking.” Clipped Natasha, clearly getting tired of being interrogated about something so personal. 

“Oh, come on Nat. Don’t be so uptight.” Teased another woman, but Natasha was quick to bite back. “I’m not uptight. This is just none of your business.” 

“It works fine, but if neither of us are up for subbing then we’re just sort of stuck. We still have fun but it just feels unbalanced sometimes. It's becoming a bit more frequent, but it’s okay.” Answered Wanda quickly but honestly, hoping to close the topic. 

“Get a sugar baby then, someone who would sub for you. People will do just about anything, if you offer them enough money.” A different friend answered indifferently, throwing the information at them so casually as if she was discussing the weather. 

“But we don’t want to open our marriage.” Argued Wanda, disgust clearly written across her face. Natasha’s face was no different, clearly not thrilled about the idea. 

“Then don’t. Open your bedroom. Keep it professional, just a simple transaction. They come over, you guys fuck and they leave. No need for any romance.” Shrugged the same friend.

“I don’t know, that doesn’t feel right.” Murmured Wanda as she looked away, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious. 

“Give it some thought, hm? There are many websites meant exactly for this. This isn’t an unsolvable issue.” Said the friend as she offered them an honest smile, her look free of judgement. 

Natasha and Wanda didn’t open the topic that night again once they got home, choosing to let it sit for a bit. It was days later that Wanda decided to bring it up again, approaching her wife and confessing she was willing to give it a try if it was strictly a sex only arrangement. Nothing more.  

They had a thorough conversation about it, clearly laying down boundaries and what they both expected from it. And after that, they started doing their research, looking over different websites to use, neither of them were completely comfortable with it, but they figured it wouldn’t hurt to try. 

They searched through many websites, but none of them felt right enough until they found that specific one. It seemed professional, or at least as professional as it could be and they both quickly agreed to set up their profile there. 

They chose to keep it simple, only sharing what was necessary, there was nothing sexual to it, nothing suggestive, the whole profile looking close to a CV. 

And then…nothing. 

They didn’t reach out to anyone. The idea of reaching out to young girls and offering them money for sexual services felt predatory to them. So they just had their profile there, finding new messages from a few people every now and then, but none of it ever really worked out. 

It wasn’t like either of them was really disappointed, since neither of them truly believed it would work out. So they just left the profile there, deciding to just check if there was anything new every now and then. 

And then they found you, or rather, you found them. 

Were you, perhaps, going to be the solution to their problem? 

_______________

You almost backed out about 10 times before you finally got on a train to go to the restaurant. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. What would your younger self think? 

Your leg bounced uncontrollably the whole way there, and you kept considering just getting out of the train and leaving, but you needed the money. 

It’s fine. It’s just a conversation tonight. I don’t have to do anything with them. 

The walk from the station to the restaurant felt endless and too quick at the same time. You became increasingly more anxious the closer you got, your hands shaking in their pockets and your breathing laboured.

You showed up to the restaurant exactly 10 minutes early, wanting to appear professional, or as professional as you could be in a situation like this. 

You weren’t surprised to already see the married couple sitting by the table, recognizing them from the picture on their profile. They both seemed like the type to arrive at places early. You weren’t sure if you were glad to show up after them or not, approaching them felt weird, but sitting there and having them approach you would feel weird too. 

You walked closer carefully, internally trying to convince yourself to not run away. You kept walking until you stood directly in front of them, their eyes raised as they sensed a new presence and you suddenly felt even more shy at their intense stares. You hid your arms behind your back, not wanting them to see the intense tremor. 

“Hi, I-, I’m the one from the website. It’s nice to meet you.” You said, your voice shaking, as you tried to sound as polite as possible. 

“Hello. I’m Wanda.” Said the first woman and then nodded her head towards the empty chair to your left. “Sit down.” 

Your eyes darted to the other woman who simply offered. “Natasha.” 

You nodded as you pulled the chair back and sat down, it was then that you allowed yourself to look around and admire the restaurant’s interior. It felt and looked expensive, and you could tell the only thing you would be able to afford here would be a cup of water. Maybe not even that. 

“I-, uh, I don’t really know where to start-” You murmured frantically, wanting to fill the silence but Wanda was quick to interrupt you. “That’s okay. Let’s just keep it simple, hm? Choose something to eat, our treat.” 

Her voice was melodic, and so soft you found yourself nodding without even realizing it. You picked up the menu carefully and scanned what was inside. You weren’t surprised to see that you didn’t know the majority of the dishes, everything expensive and way over the top for a regular person. 

“Wine?” Asked Natasha when the waitress brought the bottle to the table.

“Sure.” You nodded absentmindedly. Alcohol was probably what you needed. 

“Did you choose something?” Asked Wanda after a few minutes and you nodded shyly as you showed her what you wanted. She offered you a gentle nod in response as she smiled. 

No one said anything while you waited for the waitress to come get your orders and you were desperate to fill the awkward silence. Though it seemed like you were the only one who felt the awkward atmosphere because the two older women seemed entirely at ease, almost as if this was no different than just a casual dinner with a friend they hadn’t seen in a while. 

Natasha ordered for all of you once the waitress got to your table, Wanda only making an occasional comment with few adjustments, while you sat quietly, playing anxiously with your fingers in your lap. 

Once the waitress left Natasha cleared her throat and spoke, her voice low. “So, what do you want out of this?” 

“I just-, I want money.” You murmured as you winced internally, shame washing over your whole body. 

I sound like a slut. 

“That we can do.” Chuckled Wanda, and her little teasing comment eased something in you.

Maybe you didn’t need to feel so ashamed. They were here for the same thing, they wanted this too. 

“Look, I know this is weird. Believe me, this isn’t what we typically do on a friday evening either, but this is just a conversation, okay? No pressure, we just talk and see where it goes.” Said Wanda, her lips pulled into a tiny but genuine smile. 

“Okay.” You nodded, unable to not return the smile. 

They didn’t ask you much about who you were or why exactly you were doing this, all they wanted to know was that you were all on the same page. They asked you if you had any experiences with BDSM and you nodded immediately, wanting them to believe you were the perfect fit. 

You continued the conversation as you ate, though most of it consisted of them explaining what they wanted from this while you nodded along. They didn’t go into great detail, mostly just clarifying that this was a sex only arrangement to them, it was to remain absolutely discreet, that you were to see no one else during this arrangement for safety purposes and that each night spent together would end with a payment of 3000$. 

Your eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when you heard how much money they would pay you. That would be more than enough to pay off the tuition. 

“Are you still interested?” Asked Natasha as she raised her eyebrows at you, not being able to hide her smirk.  

“Very.” You nodded immediately, earning yourself a chuckle from her. 

Wanda clasped her hands together, closing the conversation. “Well, for now, I think we talked enough. Would you like to come over tomorrow? We can discuss this in more detail, find some common ground and sign a contract.” 

“I-, yeah, sure. That works.” You said as you took a sip of the wine, both surprised and relieved to see this moving along so fast. The sooner this happened, the sooner you would get the money. If they kept their promise you would still get money tonight, but it wouldn’t be enough to pay off everything. 

With that Natasha stood up to go pay, while Wanda led you outside and made sure to exchange your phone numbers, reminding you to send them your bank account number as well. 

Wanda immediately replied to your message with an address. “This is our place. Be there tomorrow at 8 PM, okay?” 

“Of course.” You nodded politely, which made Wanda give you a gentle smile. “Perfect! It was nice meeting you.” 

“See you tomorrow.” Said Natasha as she returned, her hand moving to rest on Wanda’s lower back. They looked good together, almost as if they were from the front page of some expensive magazine. 

“See ya.” You said as you waved your hand awkwardly and quickly turned around in the direction of the train station, desperately needing to escape. 

There wasn’t anything wrong with them, they didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. They were professional but polite. It was the idea of this arrangement that made you feel uneasy. 

You will feel even more uneasy when you get kicked out of the school. 

You watched the people pass you by as you stood at the platform, waiting for your train to arrive. You wondered quietly what they were up to tonight, whether they’ve also done something they never thought they would have to do. 

You felt your anxiety rise any time someone glanced your way, feeling like everyone could see right through you. 

They know what you did. They know your dirty little secret. 

You barely registered the train arriving or getting on it, your body suddenly working on autopilot. It was only half way through the journey that you finally woke up from whatever trance you were in, the sound of a new notification on your phone waking you up. You pulled it out of your pocket, wanting to check what it was. 

The color drained from your face when you saw. Wanda transferred the money. 1500$ just like that. 

You released a shaky breath, finally feeling like that weight was lifting off of your shoulders. And as you left the train station and pressed your card against the gate to pay for your ride you realized that dread didn’t fill you, the sound of the money leaving your bank account not leaving you shaken for once. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

______________

You stared in awe as your uber dropped you off in front of their house. Normally you wouldn't spend your money on an uber, choosing to save that money instead, but when you looked up a way to get there you were horrified to find out you would have to walk for about an hour after getting off of the train, the whole journey taking close to 2 hours, while the uber would only take about 30 minutes. The neighbourhood was apparently so high end that there was no public transport going there, everyone simply drove. 

You thanked the driver and got out, slowly making your way to their front door. You felt smaller and smaller as you approached their house. You briefly wondered if only the two of them lived there. You understood the want for luxurious things and that people liked to treat themselves when they could afford it, but a house of this size was simply ridiculous. It could easily house at least a dozen people, probably even more. 

You stood in front of the door for a few moments, debating if you should text them you were here or ring the bell. You chose the latter, feeling like it was a bit more polite. 

There was no response for a while, and you wondered if you should ring the bell again, but just as you were about to reach out the door opened swiftly, revealing Wanda.

“Well, hello there.” She greeted you with a smile adoring her face.

“Hi.” You replied, feeling shy under her intense gaze. 

“Come on, come inside.” She said as she stepped aside to let you in, revealing the enormous hallway decorated with furniture and numerous paintings.

You couldn’t hide the look of amazement, which Wanda noticed as she gave you an amused smile. “You like it?”

“It’s breathtaking.” You sighed. It felt surreal to stand in a place like this.

“Well, thank you. We are very proud of this place.” Said Wanda as she led you deeper into the house. There was a massive living room to your right and an even bigger kitchen to your left. That was where she led you, while Natasha was already waiting there.

“Hi.” You greeted her quietly, her presence a bit more intimidating than that of her wife. 

“Hello.” She replied promptly as she stood up and went to open one of the cupboards. “How are you?” 

“Good.” You murmured as your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your sleeves. You felt unsure of yourself. You felt like you didn’t belong in this place and you weren’t sure if you should sit down or wait for them to tell you something.

“Nervous?” She asked teasingly as she glanced at you over her shoulder.

You let out a tiny chuckle as you nodded, your hands dropping to your side. “A bit.”

“I would offer you some wine, but I think it’s better if we’re all sober for this conversation. So, how about some water?” She asked as she turned to you completely, holding three glasses in her hands, waiting for your answer.

“Water works.” You murmured as you stood still and watched her place the glasses on the table that separated you. A jug filled with water already placed in the middle. 

She sat down then, staring at you expectantly.

“Sit down.” Said Wanda suddenly as she pulled away one of the chairs from the table before circling it, choosing to sit next to her wife. 

You felt as if you were in the middle of a job interview. When you thought about it that was basically what it was. You were applying for a job, hoping they would choose you.

“So, we discussed the money last night. That still stands if you agree.” Said Wanda as poured some water in a cup, placing it in front of you.

“Yeah, yeah. That's fine.” You nodded immediately. 

“We also discussed how we expected this arrangement to work. That hasn’t changed. But what we would like to go through now is exactly what we want to do within this arrangement.” Continued Natasha, to which you only gave a small nod, showing her you were listening.

“You said you’ve had experiences in BDSM before, right?” She questioned.

“Yes, that’s right.” 

“So, what have you tried so far?” Asked Wanda and you wavered momentarily. You couldn’t back out now, so you scattered your brain for some specific activities you could tell them you engaged in. 

“Uh, well, tying up, spanking…just the usual stuff.” You murmured, hoping to hide your cluelessness behind shyness. 

“It is okay if you haven’t tried something yet. Each scene will be discussed beforehand to ensure we all know what’s going to happen and if we’re all okay with that.” Wanda replied, sensing your uneasiness.

Natasha suddenly pulled out a stack of papers, picking a specific one and handing it to you. 

“This is a list of our preferences, what is okay and what is absolutely off the table. Take a second to look at it and then we can discuss.” Said Natasha, her tone suddenly turning strict.

You nodded as you grabbed the paper and quickly scanned its contents.

Hard limits and Preferences.

You went through the hard limits first. The list wasn’t long but it mostly contained kinks on the more extreme side. 

Age play, anything involving bodily fluids, knife play, breath play, rape play.

You were relieved to see those written in there, knowing that you would have a hard time engaging in these things if that was what they wanted from you.

Then you scanned the preferences. That list was longer. Much, much longer. Some of the things written in there scared you, but you plastered on a polite smile and looked up at them. 

“Seems okay.” You tell them, feigning confidence. 

“How do those hard limits seem to you?” Asked Wanda, her voice taking on a softer tone. 

“I-, uh, it’s okay. I don’t like any of that either.” You answered quickly.

“Anything on the other side that is a hard limit for you?” Natasha asked, her tone stern. 

“No.” You answered immediately. It’s been going well so far, you didn’t want them to throw you out now.

They both raised their eyebrows at that, clearly not convinced that you would be into the exact same things as them.

“I mean, I haven’t done all of it, but I’m willing to try.” You stuttered, feeling shy under their intense stares.

“All of it?” Asked Natasha, obviously trying to catch you out in a lie, but you weren’t going to give up that easily. 

“Yes.” You nodded confidently.

“Well, okay.” She muttered as she picked up another paper, this one carried the same title but the rest remained plain. “Write your hard limits and preferences here for us.” 

Fuck. You did not remember everything they had written in there.

The hard limits one was easy, the list short enough to be memorized in that short amount of time but you wouldn’t be able to write down an exact copy of their preferences.

You wrote as much as you could and handed the paper back to them. They both went through it carefully before placing it next to their own list. 

“Hm, almost an exact match, you only left out a few things.” Murmured Natasha as she raised her eyebrows. She proceeded to read aloud those that you left out but you already prepared an answer. “I haven’t tried those, but I want to.”

Wanda gave you a soft smile as she spoke. “Let’s put those under soft limits, hm? We can start with what you already know and then we can move on to something new if you feel up to it.”

I don’t know any of it.

“Okay.” You murmured.

Natasha cleared her throat as she began speaking again. “Now safe words. We use the traffic lights system. Green for keep going. Yellow for slow down or I need a break. Red for stop. Do you use anything else or would you like to use those?” 

“No, those are fine.” You said immediately. 

“We will have non-verbal safe words in place too. In case you cannot speak. We can do taps or squeezes or you can raise your fingers. One for green, two for yellow and three for red. It’s important that you remember this, but we will make sure to always remind you before any scene starts and there will be regular check-ins during the scenes too.” Wanda added, staring at you intensely.

You gave them a small nod but Natasha’s stern voice quickly interrupted you. “Words.”

Your eyes widened momentarily, slightly taken back. Strangely enough, it made warmth bloom in your stomach, your hips shifting unconsciously. “I-, yes, sure. I understand.”

The talk continued, words like aftercare and subspace thrown around but you didn’t pay that much attention anymore, robotically nodding and agreeing to everything. 

Then they talked about the scheduling. You were to come over every Friday at 8 PM, do a scene and then leave. The same on Saturday, while Sunday and the rest of the weekdays were to remain free for both sides. This meant you would have to cancel your waitressing shifts those days, the times simply not working out but you were okay with that. The amount they would pay you would more than make up for it. 

And then the last step. Signing the contract.

“This is mostly just a technicality. Just something to make sure that all sides are safe and that we all have something to fall on.” Clarified Wanda, but your hand still shook slightly as you held the pen in your fingers. You couldn’t mess up now. 

You read through it swiftly, not really caring what was in it but not wanting to appear careless in front of them. And then you signed it. 

“Well, that’s that.” Said Natasha as she took the paper from you, putting it on top of the other papers. 

“Are you up for a scene tonight?” Wanda asked suddenly, which earned her an immediate nod from you. 

“Are you sure?” She asked, wanting to make sure you weren’t lying, but you weren’t going to butch. You nodded again, trying to appear more sure of yourself. “Absolutely.” 

“Alright then, let’s go upstairs.” Said Natasha as she stood up abruptly, her voice carrying a hint of finality. 

They both walked towards the grand staircase and you immediately followed after them like a lost puppy. You weren’t surprised to see the numerous doors once you reached the upper floor, none of them open, quietly hiding what was behind. You all walked all the way until the end of the hallway and then stopped abruptly as Natasha pulled out a key from her pocket. 

“This is where all our scenes will take place.” Said Natasha as she finally unlocked the door, letting you step in first. You were speechless at the sight. The whole room was red and black, filled with various instruments and furniture, but you could tell each and every one of them served its purpose. Some of them looked like torture devices rather than something that was supposed to bring pleasure. A shiver ran through you at the thought of some of these things being used on you. 

You felt Wanda gently squeeze your shoulder, her voice low, but not judgemental. “Still want to keep going?” 

“Yeah…” You murmured. 

I want to run away.

“Okay. I promise we'll keep it simple tonight.” Replied Wanda as she led you to the middle of the room, stopping right in front of the enormous bed. There was no duvet or blanket on it, only two red satin pillows, the mattress made of leather as well.

She stood directly in front of you, while her fingers grabbed the hem of your shirt, but she made no move to take it off yet. 

You looked up at her expectantly, but she only gave you a small smile. “Can I take it off?” 

Your head moved before you could register it, frantically nodding in agreement, but that wasn’t enough for her. “Use your words.”

“I-, yeah, you can take it off.” You murmured, growing impatient, but that seemed to be enough for her as she began to undress you and soon you stood completely naked in front of her. She stepped slightly to the side, letting Natasha see you properly as well. 

It felt strange to stand naked in front of them, while they both remained completely clothed, the action leaving you to feel weirdly exposed and vulnerable. You had to fight the urge to hide, especially when you saw Natasha sitting down in a chair and looking at you so casually. 

It made you nervous, but more than that, it made you feel humiliated. Humiliated to admit that you liked it, slick slowly but surely covering the insides of your thighs. 

“Color?” Wanda asked carefully, stopping for a second to observe you. You gave her a small smile as you spoke. “Green.” 

She nodded in acknowledgement, but her eyes were already turning darker with mischief. “I’ll start first, just with my fingers and my mouth. Gotta get you ready for Natasha.” 

You nodded wordlessly, the blunt language making you blush. It was unbelievable how they could talk about something so sexual and dirty so casually, almost as if they were discussing what they would have for dinner. 

Wanda inched closer to you, which instinctively made you back up, your knees bending once they hit the bed, making you sit down clumsily. 

“Lay back.” You laid down slowly, looking up at Wanda with nervous eyes.

“Thighs apart.” She ordered again, her tone turning more stern as she continued speaking. Your thighs parted automatically, wanting to please her. 

“Good girl.” Your heart stopped beating for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. You liked that more than you thought you would.

“Now make sure they stay there.” She added as she settled between your thighs, her lips beginning to pepper small kisses along the inside of your thighs. You squirmed a bit, finding it a bit ticklish, but your movements were quickly stopped when Wanda decided to bite down on the flesh, wordlessly warning you. It hurt, but it also made your pussy clench around nothing, making a small whine leave your lips. 

Suddenly you felt a single finger drag through your folds, ending at your clit, which made your hips buckle. “Hm, so wet already.” Mused Wanda, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying yourself. 

She teasingly pressed her finger against your clit, while she kept kissing and biting your thighs mindlessly. You tried to bite back your moans, feeling embarrassed about being so around when nothing even happened yet. 

“Don’t hold back. I want to hear it.” Said Wanda as she raised her head, beginning to slowly circle your clit, which made a moan come out of your mouth. Wanda smiled triumphantly. “That’s it.”  

Your head began to spin, and thoughts were becoming harder to string together. You’ve never felt anything like this before. 

You felt the bed dip by your side and you turned your head, finding Natasha sitting next to you, her legs crossed and face blank, though you could see a hint of something dangerously devilish in her eyes. 

Wanda stopped stroking your clit after a few moments, instead moving her thumb downwards before suddenly dipping it in your pussy. You yelped in surprise, your walls immediately squeezing around her thumb. 

“God, she’s soaked.” Murmured Wanda in awe as she looked up at Natasha. 

“I can see.” Mused Natasha, her fingers going to your nipples, mindlessly playing with them. 

Apparently Wanda was done playing around, because she pulled out her thumb only to push her index and middle finger in as her mouth latched onto your clit. Your back arched at the unexpected wave of pleasure, while moans spilled from your mouth. 

“That’s it. Good girl.” Murmured Natasha while her fingers kept softly pinching your nipples. 

Wanda kept switching between sucking on your clit and circling it with her tongue, while her fingers kept pressing against your g-spot. You could barely hold yourself together, the pleasure turning your brain into a soup. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed but you felt your pussy clench around Wanda’s fingers more and more as your moans kept getting louder. You knew what it meant. You were close, you were going to cum. 

All of a sudden, Wanda’s fingers stopped, her mouth pulling away from your clit and your eyes snapped open, tears threatening to spill. 

“I-, please, no…” You whined, your hips shifting over and over, despite Wanda trying to hold you still. 

“Are you begging?” Chuckled Natasha as her fingers unexpectedly pinched your nipple much harder than before, making you whine more.

“I-, uh, yeah…” You murmured, blush rising along your cheeks. 

“Well, then you need to do a better job than that, because you’re not convincing so far.” Said Natasha, which made you pout and your brain drift, which Wanda caught immediately. “Hey, color?”

“Green. I’m green. Just wanna cum.” You whined desperately as your hips buckled uncontrollably.  

“Well, you need to wait then. We like to take our time.” Said Wanda as she pulled her whole body away, her fingers slipping from your pussy, leaving you empty and desperate. She settled on your side instead, while Natasha stood up abruptly. 

“You’ve taken a strap before, right?” She asked, waiting for a response.

“Yes.” 

No. You’ve only ever taken fingers. 

Natasha nodded bluntly as she opened one of the draws, pulling out a strap and a harness, the sight making your mouth water and your pussy clench. You wondered if it was going to hurt, anxiety washing over you all of a sudden. You could only hope your face didn’t give it away, as you had absolutely no strength to hide it. 

She pulled the harness up and secured it swiftly, her movements clearly impatient. You looked up at Wanda, who stroked your hair, letting your poor, sensitive nipples rest. 

You felt Natasha kneel between your thighs, and you looked back at her. She held the strap in her palm and slowly but firmly stroked it against your clit, not putting in yet.  

“Color?” She asked and you were quick to answer. “Green.” 

She slowly started to put it in, bit by bit, letting you adjust to the size. You held your breath as you felt the sting of your pussy being stretched uncomfortably, but Natasha suddenly stopped and instead stroked your clit, which made you moan and your hips buck, forcing the strap deeper. 

She kept stroking your clit as she started to push it all the way inside and then stilled once it was all in, letting you adjust. Your legs squirmed as waves of pleasure kept washing over you. 

She started to pull out, but when she was about halfway out she pushed back in, slowly starting to fuck into you, her movements slow but deep. She got rougher as few moments passed, slowly starting to fuck you faster, but it was still relatively slow. Definitely nowhere near enough to make you cum, just enough to be pleasurable and to make your head feel like it was empty. 

But then suddenly her movements got faster, her hips slamming into you at an impossible speed, her thumb harshly stroking your clit. It made your eyes roll into the back of your skull, and you could tell you were close again. 

You let out a small scream mixed with a moan, choking out. “I-, fuck! I’m gonna cum!” 

Natasha’s eyes turned dark as she sternly clipped back. “No.” 

You let out a desperate whimper. “Please…” 

She sped up even more. “Ask me nicely.” 

“Ple-, fuck! Please, please can I cum?” You whined, almost screaming. 

She didn’t grant you an answer immediately, wanting to torture you just for a moment longer, enjoying that look of desperation in your eyes. She sped up her movements instead. And just when one single tear finally fell from your eye she spoke.  

“Cum.” Ordered Natasha, and you could’ve sworn you passed out in that moment. Your pussy kept pulsing for what felt like an eternity and a mix of moans and whimpers kept leaving your mouth. Your hips kept bucking uncontrollably while Natasha kept stroking your clit, her strap buried deep in you, hoping to prolong your orgasm. 

It was only when your whines increased in pitch that she finally stopped moving her finger along your clit, noticing you were becoming overstimulated. She gave you a few moments to calm down before mumbling something about pulling out, but you paid her no mind. 

Moments passed, but your breaths kept coming out laboured, while your mind remained empty. All you felt was someone draping a blanket over you and a hand gently stroking your hair. 

Suddenly Wanda spoke as she helped you raise your head, an object made of plastic pressing against your lips. “Have some water.” You drank eagerly, feeling like you hadn’t had water in ages. You briefly noticed that Natasha wasn’t in the room with you, but your head was too fuzzy to question her whereabouts. 

“That’s enough.” Said Wanda as she pulled the bottle away from your mouth, satisfied to see you drank more than a half and laid your head back on the mattress, her hand resuming its previous movement.

Once you woke up from the haze of the orgasm you remembered. Have sex and leave. 

You looked up at Natasha once she came back into the room, feeling the shyness return. “Could you hand me my phone, please? I need to order myself an uber.” 

She nodded and wordlessly picked up your phone from the chair where Wanda placed it along with your clothes. “Here you go.” 

“Thanks.” You murmured as you opened the app, finding a driver nearby and pressing ‘order’.

“It should be here in about 20 minutes.” You mumbled as you closed your eyes, suddenly feeling exhaustion wash over you. 

“Okay.” Replied Wanda as she mindlessly stroked your hair. You felt Natasha place something into your palm once you put your phone down. You opened your eyes briefly, wondering what it was. 

“Chocolate. It will make you feel better.” She explained as she stood up again, unable to stay still apparently. 

You let yourself rest for a bit, but when the app showed you your driver would arrive in 10 minutes you moved to get ready. Wanda handed you your clothes, and you began to dress yourself, which proved to be more difficult than expected since your limbs felt like jelly. 

They both walked down with you, Natasha joining you from one of the other rooms on the upper floor. Probably a bathroom. 

Natasha held the door open for you, while Wanda handed you your coat. “We’ll see you on Friday." Said Wanda as she watched you step outside, patiently waiting for your exit. 

“See ya.” You said as you turned around, your uber waiting for you at the bottom of the driveway. 

__________

They paid you so much money that you had enough to go get an actual bag of groceries for the first time in the past 3 years, but as you cooked in your very modest kitchen you felt completely numb. 

I had sex for money. 

You couldn’t even finish the food you made for yourself, feeling as if you were about to throw up every time you swallowed. You put the leftovers in the fridge, already knowing it was just a matter of time before it would end up in the trash can. 

As you laid in bed that night you opened the student portal, the unpaid tuition staring back at you brightly, and with a few simple clicks you sent the remaining amount of your tuition that was waiting to be paid.

If only getting the money was that simple. 

You turned off the screen when you received the automated confirmation email and tossed your phone aside. You turned towards the small window in your room and stared at the city, which was somehow still alive. 

You were hoping for the relief to hit you, and it was there, but it was so dull you could barely feel it. What was stronger was the unbearable feeling of disgust. Tears gathered in your eyes as realization of what you had done truly hit you. 

I slept with someone for money.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, and the night after that too, not being able to shake those feelings off as you constantly questioned how you could’ve let this happen. 

You felt that same disgust now as you laid in bed in their guest bedroom, while your backside was on fire. Could you really keep this up? Was the money really worth it? 

____________