𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓 ౨ৎ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄
summary: the prologue, a small starting point for our story.
characters: daddy!natasha, mommy!wanda maximoff x femreader
content warning: nothing! just mention of bdsm club, alcohol
word count: 2.1k
Staring at the contract before you, your throat tightened, and a knot formed in your stomach. You never thought you’d find yourself here, sitting on the edge of something so transformative. How the hell did you get to this point? The question circled in your mind, but no answers seemed clear, just the weight of the decision that lay in front of you.
You weren’t nervous, though, not really. Not with them here. Not with them watching you, holding you together when you felt like you might shatter under the intense pressure. Glancing up, you met Wanda’s gaze across the desk, her eyes soft but intense, filled with that reassuring warmth she always had for you. That smile of hers, the kind that could melt the tension in your bones with just a single curve of her lips. It was soothing to your racing heart. It grounded you, making you feel like everything was going to be okay.
And then, before you could even think to speak a response, Natasha’s hand gently cupped your left one, her fingers curling around yours with an intimacy that soothed the remainder of your anxieties. The steady, rhythmic caress of her thumb across your knuckles was silent, but it spoke volumes.
“If you’re nervous, it’s okay, dorogoya,” Wanda’s voice was soft, laced with affection, her words wrapping around you like a protective embrace, breaking your tense mind and refocusing.
“Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere. Do you want to go over it again, hm?” The tightness in your chest loosened as you shook your head. You didn’t need to go over it again. You knew what you were doing, even if your heart fluttered with both excitement and uncertainty. You trusted them. You trusted them more than anything.
With a steadying breath, you picked up the sleek, luxurious ink pen and placed the tip on the dotted line. The pen felt heavy in your hand, its weight symbolic of the choice you were making, but it felt right. It always had, with them. The finality of the action sent a ripple of warmth through your body.
Your signature flowed smoothly across the page, a mark of your commitment, your choice, and your surrender all at once. This was it. The beginning of something far beyond what you’d ever imagined. The most exciting, life-changing relationship of your life.
As you set the pen down, everything shifted. It was as if the world held its breath for a moment, the space between you and them charged with a new energy, one that was intense, undeniable, and deeply intimate.
This wasn’t just a contract. It was a promise.
THREE MONTHS PRIOR:
All you remembered was being absolutely entranced the moment you stepped inside the lesbian BDSM club. You weren’t exactly sure how you ended up there, but when your friend Emma, whose obsession with kink was borderline infectious, had dragged you along, you couldn’t resist. What could happen? You were curious, even if your past experiences with kink had been more... awkward than satisfying. A few failed attempts in previous relationships, where it never quite clicked. But tonight, you were determined to just see what all the fuss was about, and see what you were truly missing.
You were tipsy by the time you arrived, just a little buzzed, enough to relax your nerves, but the buzz had nothing to do with alcohol. The club itself was dry, no drinks allowed, but you’d taken a swig or two before coming, just to take the edge off.
You handed your ID to the bouncer at the entrance, nerves flickering through you, and shot him a tight, uncertain smile. He gave you a casual nod, checked your ID, and waved you through. Emma’s hand gripped yours a little tighter as she tugged you inside.
The moment you crossed the threshold, it was like stepping into an entirely different world. A world of dim lights, low murmurs, and soft music. Your senses tingled with the unfamiliarity of it all.
The club’s interior was as dark, thick fog swirling through the air as fog machines did their thing. There was something electric about it, a pulse that resonated with you, but you couldn’t tell whether it was excitement or nervousness. The atmosphere felt thick, alive. Emma, a veteran of The Red Widow, took you by the hand and led you around the room, showing you different corners where the most intense scenes played out. Then, after a quick kiss on your cheek, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving you to wander, to watch, to learn on your own, while she spent some time with her long term girlfriend and dominant.
You drifted through the club, your eyes scanning every demonstration, imagining yourself in the submissive role, and squirming in your seat. You were fascinated, but cautious, feeling both out of place and at home, comfortable and longing to be apart of something like this. You watched a shibari demonstration for what seemed like hours, transfixed by the way the ropes danced across her skin, how they tethered her with purpose and care.
An hour later, you found yourself at the bar, sitting alone, nursing a Coke with a deep, thoughtful gaze. Watching the different areas of the club with a hum. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but this? This was a level of intensity you didn’t even know existed. It all seemed to blur into a hypnotic rhythm that had you shifting in your seat.
That’s when you felt it.
A sensation at the back of your neck. Someone was watching you.
Slowly, you turned your head to the left, your pulse spiking as your gaze collided with two women sitting across the bar. The intensity in their stares was unmistakable, their eyes studying you like prey, or more accurately, an invitation.
The taller of the two women, with her fiery red hair tumbling in waves down her back in loose curls, tilted her head slightly. The soft glow of the club lights caught the edges of her features, making her look almost unreal, like a figure out of a dream. Her presence was commanding—dangerous, yet alluring—and something in the way she observed you made your heart stutter.
Her companion, shorter but no less striking, had an aura of effortless elegance. Her sharp eyes locked onto yours, her lips curling into a subtle, knowing smile that sent a shiver down your spine. Their attire screamed high-end sophistication, tailored, the shine of their nails perfectly manicured, and purses from luxury brands draped over their shoulders. It was obvious they belonged to a world far beyond yours.
A blush crept up your cheeks as your eyes darted down, unable to hold their gaze for too long. You felt like you were suddenly on display, your body squirming under the weight of their attention. You took a long, quick sip of your Coke, trying to calm your nerves, but then the bartender slid another drink in front of you with a soft clink.
And just as you were about to look away from the bartender, the voice hit you, a rich, velvety tone that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. A slight accent that you couldnt quite pinpoint.
“Put it on our tab, Hannah.” Your head snapped up in shock as the two women from across the bar stood in front of you now, impossibly close, their presence commanding your attention. They didn’t speak, but their gaze alone made it feel like the world had narrowed down to just the three of you.
The taller woman was the first to break the silence, her voice laced with a quiet curiosity. “Hi there. And who might you be? I don’t recognize you.”
You froze for a second, your tongue suddenly thick in your mouth, unsure how to respond. Their intense stare made you feel exposed in the best, and most terrifying, way possible.
“Uh, I—I’m (insert name). It’s, um... my first time here,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, though you could feel the heat of your own skin prickling with both embarrassment and something darker, more thrilling.
The shorter woman’s lips twitched upwards into a smirk, the expression predatory, but in a way that made your pulse race with anticipation. “What a beautiful name... for a beautiful girl.”
And in that instant, the atmosphere shifted. What started as an innocent curiosity, an unspoken invitation, suddenly felt like something far more dangerous, far more intimate.
And somehow, deep inside, you knew your life had just changed.
Over the next few weeks, you found yourself returning to the club with Emma every weekend. You weren’t there to engage in any scenes—not yet, at least—but your desire to see them again grew more intense with each visit. You found yourself craving the sound of their voices, the way their eyes would linger on you across the room. Just one more weekend, you’d tell yourself, but one weekend turned into two, then three. Each time you left, you felt a pull, a need, to come back, to be near them.
And your desire wasn’t one-sided. They were just as interested in you as you were in them. You could feel it in the way they watched you when you spoke, in the subtle way their hands would graze your skin as they reached for their drinks. The tension was palpable, unspoken but clear. And over time, the innocent talks at the bar turned into something more. Something electric.
You’d end up sitting between them, your heart pounding as their hands would casually rest on your thigh. A slow, deliberate touch, one that could be mistaken for a gesture of comfort, but you knew better. It was a silent message to everyone around you. To every other dominant in the room. Do not interact. You were theirs, and they were claiming you without a word. The knowledge of it thrilled you, but also terrified you. How far would this go?
You didn’t know it yet, but they had already set their sights on you. From the first moment their eyes locked with yours, they’d known. It wasn’t just your innocent curiosity that intrigued them, it was your vulnerability, the way you absorbed every bit of knowledge at the club, the way you watched without judgment. Every look you gave them, every quiet question, fuelled the fire that was building between you. You were the kind of person they could cherish, guide, and possess.
Soon, it wasn’t just about the club. The moments you shared inside those walls spilled into the outside world. Casual meetups at restaurants became more intimate: dinners, drinks, stolen glances. And then came movie nights at their house, soft lights, the quiet hum of a television in the background, but the true heat between you was the way their hands would brush against yours, the soft but constant touch of their skin against yours. They were showing you, little by little, what it was like to be theirs.
It wasn’t just about the physical, though it was undeniable how their touches made your skin burn with anticipation. It was the way their words wrapped around you, soft whispers in your ear, instructions given with authority, but always with care. It was how their eyes held a promise, one of security, of ownership, of devotion.
Through every touch, every soft word, every subtle action, they showed you the depth of their desire for you. Their care wasn’t just about the physical, they were invested in all of you. They wanted to know you. To make you feel treasured. To make you feel like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. And each moment, each experience, was a preview of the devotion they would give you if you chose to let them in fully. They weren’t just looking for a submissive. They were looking for someone they could love, protect, and cherish in every way.
And God, how you wanted them. To be theirs, fully. To experience what they offered—not just in moments of passion, but in every word, every touch, every shared glance. You were already beginning to feel what it was like to belong to them. And you had no idea how much further you’d go, but with every passing day, you found yourself wanting more.
And now, months later, that the contract was filled and signed on every dotted line, you were theirs. The second you set that pen down, both of them were on you. Their lips, their hands, exploring your entire body.
“Mine.” Wanda practically growled in your ear, her voice dripping with lust and need for you. “Ours.” Natasha reminded, her voice firm and hers too saturated with need. And you felt it. Theirs. God, you loved being theirs.