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23 | She/her

[thoughtfultidalwavedragon]

Reading List Masterlist

Wanda Maximoff 

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Natasha Romanoff

List 1   List 2   List 3   List 4  List 5  List 6  List 7 List 8 List 9 List 10 List 11 List 12 List 13 List 14 List 15 List 16 List 17 List 18 List 19 List 20 List 21 List 22 List 23 List 24 List 25 List 26 List 27 List 28 List 29 List 30 List 31 List 32 List 33 List 34 List 35

Wandanat

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Avengers/Marvel

List 1 

The Last of Us

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Wednesday

List 1

Yellowjackets

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Miscellaneous

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Age Regression/Little space

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My Writings

Aftercare from Wanda

[azkabanromanoff]

Still Can't Believe It

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

just fluff

The first time Natasha reached for your hand after you started dating, you froze. Not because you didn’t want her to. Quite the opposite, it was because you’d imagined that exact moment so many times over the years that your mind refused to accept it as real. 

Natasha had laughed softly, intertwining your fingers anyway. “You know,” she’d murmured, “you’re allowed to hold my hand.” 

“I know,” you said with a light blush. 

“You don’t look convinced.” 

“I’m trying to convince my brain.” At your words, she smiled in that almost imperceptible way that only existed for people she trusted. 

“I’ve been trying to convince mine too,” she whispered, squeezing your hand softly.

Years of friendship had built a rhythm between you. You knew how she took her coffee, she knew you hummed absentmindedly whenever you were happy. You could recognize each other’s footsteps in the hallway, each other’s moods from a single glance across a crowded room. 

You had been partners. Best friends. Home. 

Somewhere along the way, every lingering glance had started lasting a little longer. Every goodbye had become a little harder. Every accidental touch had left an ache that neither of you dared to acknowledge. Until the words escaped. 

Dating Natasha wasn’t what either of you expected. You had imagined that, once the feelings were out in the open, everything would become natural. 

Instead, everything became more intense. When she looked at you, you noticed. God, did you notice. 

She had always looked at you, but now you knew what it meant. Every glance carried affection she no longer had to hide. Sometimes, you’d catch her staring while you cooked or read or talked with the team. 

“What?” you’d ask. She’d blink as though she’d been caught stealing. 

“...Nothing.” 

“Nat.” 

“I just like looking at you,” she’d murmur. And suddenly you couldn’t remember what you were saying. 

“You can’t just say things like that.” 

“I just did.”

You groaned, your cheeks carrying that blush that were always around in her presence. “That’s unfair.” 

With a tiny smirk, she’d say “I know.”

**

The strange thing was... you still got nervous. Not around anyone else, just each other.  

Sometimes you woke before she did, those mornings were your favorite. Natasha looked younger asleep. Peaceful.  

You’d trace invisible patterns in the air above her freckles, never quite touching. It still amazed you that this woman – Natasha, your Natasha – had chosen you. 

As if sensing your thoughts, her eyes slowly opened. “You keep staring,” she murmured with that low voice you loved.

“I wasn’t staring.” 

She nuzzled into you, seeking your warmth. “Liar.” 

“I was... appreciating,” you whispered, shyly. 

Her voice was still thick with sleep. “I appreciate you too,” she reached for your hand beneath the blanket. 

**

One rainy afternoon, you found yourselves alone in the common room. A book lay forgotten on your lap.  

Natasha sat across from you, neither of you had spoken for several minutes. You simply looked at each other. 

She smiled first. “What?” 

“I still can’t believe you’re my girlfriend.”

Your confession hung in the room, and Natasha’s ears turned faintly pink. “You can’t?” 

“I’ve wanted this for years,” your fingers playing with the edges of the book. 

“So have I.” 

“It still feels...” she nodded before you finished. 

“...Impossible.” 

She stood and crossed the room, every step seemed deliberate. When she reached you, she rested her forehead against yours. “So,” she whispered, “we’re really doing this.” 

“We are,” you whispered back. 

“We’re together.” 

You smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. “We’re together.” 

Natasha closed her eyes. For a moment neither of you moved, the rain tapped gently against the windows. The tower was quiet, the world could wait. 

[wandaslovey]

\\ my humble attempt at converting some of you to bladder control/piss kink 🙂‍↕️ //

wanda is very concerned about your water intake. you’ve never been very good at drinking enough throughout the day, and so she is determined to help you build a healthy habit.

one day, she fills a brand new hydro flask (in your favorite color, so you’d be more excited to drink from it) up with cold water. not ice cold, but just crisp enough to be refreshing.

“come sit with me. we’ll watch something.” she says.

you’re unsuspecting of anything, so you happily cuddle up next to her in the love seat. you two rarely sit on the long sofa, preferring to have your limbs tangled together on the cushy one-seater.

“i have something for you.” she hums, presenting you with your very own insulated water bottle.

your nose wrinkles, but you manage to crack a small smile. “…thank you.” you mind your manners. it may not be the best gift in the world, but it was still a gift nonetheless.

wanda’s gaze is intent on you as she watches you settle against her. your bum is half resting against the arm of the chair, your legs curled and nestled on top of her lap. she watches as you cradle the bottle close to your torso, but otherwise pay it no mind.

she lets your flippancy go for the moment. one arm curls around your back, holding you close while the other reaches for the remote to find something to watch.

“(y/n).” her voice cuts into the silence, calling your attention to her. her eyes are still fixated on the screen ahead.

“you have half an hour to drink the water in that hydro flask.” she selects a movie—which you don’t see, because you’re now looking at her incredulously. thirty minutes? you don’t even drink that much water in one day.

“i already drank some this morning.” you try to reason with her. surely any type of fluid was better than no fluid at all—right?

“that was an energy drink. that doesn’t count.” she doesn’t buy it for a second, which you should have figured.

“i’m pretty sure there’s some water in those.”

she’s looking at you now, a disproving expression on her face. “30 minutes.” she repeats, and then her attention is back on the movie.

you sigh softly, defeated. you bring the plastic straw up to your lips to take your first swig of water. it’s cold and tasteless. you didn’t like it.

wanda reaches the hand that was wrapped around you to pet the back of your head, a silent encouragement to keep going. you take another few sips and then pause.

your eyes watch the clock hung above the tv with trepidation. all of a sudden it seemed like time moved so much faster. you didn’t know what the consequence would be if you didn’t finish. you weren’t sure you wanted to find out.

as the minutes tick by, you attempt to drink all you can. it was a painstaking process really. the whole venture only reminded you why you didn’t like to drink water in the first place.

your tummy was starting to feel full, but it wasn’t just that.

another sensation curled in your belly. your bladder was getting full. you hadn’t eaten yet today, and it always seemed like that made liquids move through you more quickly.

you glance up at the clock again, the long hand shifting a millimeter to the right, sealing your fate. thirty minutes had now officially passed.

your body tenses, awaiting for wanda’s reaction.

she doesn’t say anything. she’s smooth—composed, her eyes still fixed on the movie. it was only mere moments later that she glances at the clock, noticing the time.

she lets out a long breath and then turns to face you, her eyes drifting to the water bottle settled against your thighs. she reaches for it and holds it in her hand, weighing it as if to test how full it still was. she shakes it back and forth, and you can both clearly hear the water sloshing around in there.

her green eyes flit to yours. your cheeks are flush and eyes wide as you take in her expression.

“couldn’t finish?” she asks softly, as if she wasn’t upset to find you hadn’t drank all the water. you shake your head slowly.

“hmm… that’s okay, baby. you tried your best, didn’t you?” her fingers smooth over the worried expression on your brow, a sympathetic look on her face.

you nod your head, a bit dazed. you feel like you’re still waiting for the other shoe to drop. it doesn’t seem to come.

she places the hydro flask on the small table next to the love seat, holding you even closer to her as she cuddles you. suspicious or not, you still melt in her arms.

15 more minutes pass before you’re reminded of your full bladder. it was starting to ache—that feeling of needing to pee becoming harder to ignore.

you uncurl your limbs, sitting up as you intend to head to the bathroom. her arms come around to stop you.

“where are you going?” she asks, an edge to her voice as if she’d miss you too much if you left.

“to the bathroom.” you explain, renewing your efforts to stand. she doesn’t relax her hold.

“no, stay here with your mommy.” she pulls you back to her, cradling you even closer than before.

“wanda—“ you start, meaning to tell her you really did have to pee.

“stay.” she says with finality. your body slumps slightly in defeat. you didn’t know how else you could communicate your need to go.

a couple more minutes pass and you’re about to say something again when you feel her hand slowly travel across your hip, down your stomach until her palm rests just below your belly button. she rubs soft circles there for a moment. it almost feels relaxing, but that’s before you suddenly feel her begin to apply pressure.

you inhale sharply, your pelvic floor muscles clenching as she pushes directly against your full bladder.

“wanda,” you whine, your hands coming down to rest against hers.

“you have to go, don’t you?” her lips are at your ear. her words send a shiver down your spine. this was the other shoe. she’d planned this.

“mommy… please.” you whimper, your legs curling up towards your chest.

she applies more pressure with her fingers, long, slow circles pressing more firmly against you. she doesn’t say anything, simply watching your body wiggle and writhe as she tortures you.

“only good puppies who obey mommy get to use the potty.” she purrs into your neck, her free hand reaching from behind to soothingly pet the side of your head.

“oh… please!” you squeak, this time more desperate. your muscles are clenched so tightly, willing your bladder to hold on just a second longer. you don’t know if you could ever come back from wetting yourself while you’re on top of wanda’s lap.

“maybe next time you’ll listen when i tell you to drink your water?” she says, sounding smug, but you couldn’t focus on that in the moment.

you hear her chuckle lowly next to your ear when your little whines and pleads become more desperate. she can tell you can’t hold on much longer.

“i can’t hold it mommy! please!” you’re desperate, your hands clawing at her, your muscles all tensed up bracing for the worst. the pressure against your bladder is relentless. it was hopeless to try and hold back.

you let out a choked sob as your muscles relax against your will, your bladder letting go as your panties become wet with pee. you buck against her, whining and blubbering as you’re forced to relieve yourself.

“awww, that’s it, sweet puppy. let it out for mommy.” she massages your pelvis through the whole thing, not letting up until she can tell you’ve completely emptied your bladder.

your tear stained cheeks are red with embarrassment. you can’t look at her, only capable of whimpering at your predicament.

it was humiliating in the most delicious way. you find your brain is fuzzy, no coherent thoughts fully forming except that maybe, just maybe, you *might* drink more water next time.

[splattynatty1984]

My Good Girls

The laundry needed folding. Natasha found something in the basket that she found very interesting. Wanda came in from the dishes and found something in the bedroom that she found very interesting. The laundry did not get finished.

Mommy!Wanda x Daddy!Natasha x fem!reader | domme wanda x switch natasha x sub reader

content: mommy kink, daddy kink, brat natasha (ALSO bottom!nat because YES), strap use, edging, uhhh the russian might be bad okay bye

18+, NSFW oneshot | 6.6k words

ao3

The laundry had been sitting in the basket since Tuesday.

It had become a kind of background feature of the bedroom, a thing you'd both developed the ability to look past, until Natasha had finally picked it up this evening with the expression of someone taking on a task out of sheer principle. You'd joined her without being asked. That was how most things worked between the three of you.

Wanda was doing the dishes downstairs. You could hear the occasional sound of it through the floor.

You and Natasha had developed a system over time—she folded, you put away, a division of labor that had arrived organically and stuck. She was fast about it. Efficient, corners sharp, the way she did everything. You were slower because you got distracted.

You were putting away a stack of her shirts when you heard her make a small sound behind you, prompting you to turn around.

She was holding up a pair of your underwear. Black cotton, simple, nothing remarkable about them except that you recognized them immediately and your face went hot before your brain had finished processing why.

Natasha's expression was one of profound interest.

"Hey," she said. "Don't these look familiar?"

"Give me those—"

"I'm just asking." She turned them over, examining them like they were evidence. "Because I'm pretty sure these are the ones you soaked through completely back in March and said were ruined and we'd have to throw away."

"Natasha—"

"They seem fine to me." She looked at you over them, her eyes dancing. "You were very upset about it at the time. Very convinced they were beyond saving. I remember because you kept saying—"

She stopped because you'd lunged for them and she'd already moved, holding them out of reach, her other hand catching your wrist. You made a grab for her arm. She redirected it with the ease of someone who could do it in her sleep, which she probably could, and you ended up off-balance and she took full advantage.

You hit the bed in a tangle, and the laundry basket tipped over, a cascade of folded and now very unfolded shirts falling. Natasha was laughing, and you were laughing too despite yourself, grabbing for her wrists while she held the underwear triumphantly aloft.

"Say it," she said.

"I'm not saying anything—"

"Say what you were saying that day. Something about, what was it?" Her tone took on a little whine you knew was meant to imitate yours. "Oh, I remember. 'Mommy, please, you made me so wet'—"

"I hate you—"

"Your face is so red right now." She was delighted. "It's a very specific shade. I'd call it—"

You got a hand free and shoved at her shoulder and she let herself be toppled, still laughing. You ended up over her with your hair in your face and the undignified situation of her still holding the underwear.

The laughing faded by degrees, the way it always did. One moment you were catching your breath and the next you were just looking at her—her red hair fanned out across the covers, her face open and comfortable, the steadiness in her green eyes as they moved over your face.

She tossed the underwear somewhere off the bed, her hand coming to your jaw.

You stared at her for a few more seconds, and then you kissed her.

It started soft, then it deepened. Her hand in your hair, yours braced on either side of her. The laundry entirely forgotten. Her mouth moved on yours and you felt the warmth of it move down your spine.

Neither of you heard the footsteps on the stairs.

"Well," Wanda said.

You broke apart and looked up.

She was standing in the doorway. Her curly reddish-brown hair was loose around her shoulders, slightly damp at the temples from the steam of the kitchen. She was wearing the sleep shirt she always changed into after dinner, and she had the expression on her face that meant she'd walked into something that interested her and was already deciding what to do about it. Her dark eyes moved from you to Natasha and back.

The overturned laundry basket was very visible behind you.

"I could've sworn I told you two to fold the laundry," she observed.

"We were folding it," Natasha said.

"I can see that." Her gaze landed on the underwear, which had ended up near the pillow. One eyebrow rose. She looked at Natasha. "Were you terrorizing her again?"

"I was making an observation."

"She was terrorizing me," you said.

Wanda's mouth curved. She crossed the room and settled against the headboard, pulling her knees up. She looked at the two of you—you still half-over Natasha, Natasha's hand still in your hair—taking stock.

"Well, please," she said, "don't stop on account of me."

You looked at Natasha. She looked back.

"You heard her," Natasha said, grinning.

She pulled you back down.

The kiss was different with Wanda watching. The awareness of her sitting there with those dark eyes added a layer to everything. Natasha kissed you deeper. Her hand moved through your hair and you pressed into her and forgot about being self-conscious within about thirty seconds.

"Mm." Wanda's voice was encouraging. "She likes that."

Natasha smiled against your mouth.

"Do it again," Wanda said. "Slower this time."

Natasha did it slower. Her hand in your hair kept you where she wanted you, and she kissed you like she had nowhere else to be. You felt heat pool low in your stomach.

"Good," Wanda said. "Sweetheart," she smiled at you, "put your hand on her jaw. Hold her face while she does that."

You brought your hand to Natasha's jaw—following the angle of it, her pulse starting to speed up under your fingertips—and felt Natasha exhale against your mouth. She kissed you harder. Her hips shifted beneath you.

"Beautiful," Wanda said softly. "Look at you both."

She let it run—the two of you kissing while she watched, her voice coming in to adjust the angle of a hand or slow the pace. She wasn't performing the direction. She was simply orchestrating something she found worth her attention. Tilt your head. Let her breathe. Natasha—slower, I said.

Natasha slowed, but only just.

"Natasha." Wanda's voice sharpened by one precise degree.

Natasha slowed.

"Thank you," Wanda said.

You felt Natasha's jaw tighten slightly under your hand, felt the small resistance in it. She slowed because she'd been told to and not for any other reason, and Wanda clearly knew this and said nothing, which somehow communicated everything.

"Alright." You heard the rustle of Wanda moving. "Let's take those clothes off. I want to watch you do it for each other."

Natasha sat up and looked at Wanda with an expression you all knew well—considering, a flicker of challenge in it.

"Both of us?" she said.

"Both of you," Wanda confirmed pleasantly. She was already pulling her own shirt over her head. Her curls fell back around her shoulders when it cleared, and the low light of the bedroom caught the reddish tint in them. She reached back to unclasp her bra with brisk efficiency. "You can start with her shirt, Natasha."

"I know how undressing works."

"I'm sure you do." Wanda set her bra aside. She looked at Natasha steadily. Her expression didn't change. "Her shirt. Now, please."

Natasha held the look for one second longer than was strictly necessary—the beat she always took with Wanda, the fraction of a moment in which she weighed her options—and then turned to you and took the hem of your shirt in her hands.

She took it off you slowly. Wanda had said she wanted to watch, so she gave her something worth watching. Her hands were deliberate, her eyes on your face as the fabric cleared it. She unclasped your bra with one hand, letting it fall. Her hands spread across your ribs.

"Mm." Wanda had leaned back against the headboard again. Her dark eyes tracked over you with open appreciation. "So pretty. Do you know how pretty you are, sweetheart?"

Your face warmed. Natasha's mouth curved.

"Don't answer that," Natasha said. "Just let her look at you."

You nodded, biting your lip.

"Sweet girl, stop that," Wanda chastised, giving you a pointed look. You quickly released your lip from your teeth, with considerable effort.

"Her jeans," Wanda said to Natasha.

Natasha moved you onto your back and worked your jeans open, drawing them down and off. Her fingers hooked into your underwear at the same time.

"Leave those," Wanda said.

Natasha's hands stilled. She looked at Wanda over her shoulder. Then she looked back to you and teased the waistband of your panties, tugging slightly. It tickled, so you let out a giggle, and Natasha laughed too because damn, you were adorable, and she had also completely forgotten in the span of two seconds that Wanda was there.

"Leave them," Wanda said again, with a small smile that knew exactly what it was doing.

Natasha jumped at the reminder that Wanda had eyes on you. She rolled her own eyes and turned back to you, finding you watching her and the corner of her mouth twitched.

"Now yours," Wanda said. "Let her help."

Natasha sat back and you reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. Her red hair fell back into place across her shoulders, slightly wavy where it had dried from her earlier shower. Underneath was the lean muscle of her torso, the pale skin of her stomach, the faint track of a scar along her left side that you'd pressed your lips to more times than you could count. You unclasped her bra. She shrugged it off. Her abs flexed slightly with the movement and you watched the defined muscles shift.

"The rest," Wanda said. "You can do it, my love."

Natasha stood to let you get her jeans and underwear down and off, which she did with the complete unselfconsciousness of someone entirely at ease in her own body. Then she settled back on the bed and looked at Wanda.

Wanda, fully undressed now, looked back. Her curls were wilder now that she'd been moving around. She looked at Natasha, tilting her head.

"Come here," she said. "I want you."

Natasha went—and you saw the moment she decided to make something of it, the slight cant of her chin, the particular angle of her shoulders.

"Say please," Natasha said, smiling like she knew what would happen (she did, you did, it was no secret).

The room went a degree quieter.

Wanda looked at her. Something moved through her expression—she was never surprised by Natasha, so it was more like acknowledgment. The recognition of a familiar variable.

"Natasha," she said, her voice almost a sigh. "Want to repeat that?"

"I'm just saying. Not a hard task to say 'please'." Natasha knew she was digging a hole. She enjoyed that, you knew. "Some would consider it polite—"

"Natalia Alianovna. Come. Here." Wanda snapped her fingers and followed with a beckoning gesture. "Or you'll be watching instead of participating, and I'll spank you until your pretty ass is bright red. Your choice."

Natasha's chin stayed at its angle for one more second. Then she moved, because as much of a masochist that Natasha was, she wasn't in the mood for true punishment tonight.

Wanda took her face in both hands and kissed her. Thorough, claiming, the kiss of someone making a point. Natasha's hands came to Wanda's waist and held there. Wanda pulled back and looked at her from very close range.

"I'll ask again, want to repeat that?"

"No, ma'am," Natasha said, quieter now.

"Thank you." Wanda pressed her lips briefly to Natasha's forehead. Then she looked at you. "Sweetheart. Come sit beside her."

You moved to Natasha's side. Wanda took Natasha's face in her hands again and drew her back into the kiss, softer this time, Natasha going into it with less resistance. Her hands moved through Natasha's red hair.

"I want you to touch her," Wanda said to you, against Natasha's mouth. "Her pussy. Use your fingers." She pulled back slightly to look at you. "Gently. Start gently—she's not ready yet and I want to feel you get her there."

You moved your hand down Natasha's stomach, feeling her abs tense under your palm. Slipping your fingers between her thighs, you found her—the soft folds not yet slick but getting there, the heat already building.

Natasha made a small sound, biting her lip.

"Good girl," Wanda said. You weren't sure if it was to you or Natasha, but you suspected she meant both. She kissed Natasha again, deeper, and her hand moved to the back of Natasha's head. "Keep going, sweetheart. Slow. Take your time with her."

You worked your fingers through her cunt, exploring rather than driving toward anything, learning her even though you knew her. Natasha's breathing was changing already, becoming less even, and you could feel her clit starting to harden, could even feel her pulse if you lingered long enough.

"Daddy's getting wet," Wanda said, observing your face. "Isn't she?"

"Yes, Mommy," you said, your fingers now rubbing circles on Natasha's clit. Steady circles, like she had taught you so long ago.

"Tell her. Let her hear it."

You looked at Natasha, who had her eyes half-closed, Wanda's mouth at her jaw.

"You're getting so wet," you said, feeling Natasha's hips push toward your hand at the words. "You're…you're doing very well. So good."

"Mm." Wanda sounded pleased. She was pleased. Watching her two beautiful girls together brought her a happiness she couldn't quite describe, something that settled in her heart with warmth. "She likes that, the praise. You've learned so well, sweet girl. Two fingers, baby. Push inside Daddy slowly."

You pressed two fingers to Natasha's cunt and felt her hole clench immediately in anticipation.

"Fuck—" Natasha's breath went sharp. You kept your eyes on Natasha, slowly pushing in. You felt her stretch around your digits, felt her walls squeeze you.

"Curl them," Wanda said to you. "Toward you. Find where she makes noise."

You curled your fingers and felt Natasha's thighs press together around your wrist.

"There," you breathed out, scooting closer to Natasha for a better angle.

"I can hear that." Wanda's mouth curved against Natasha's cheek. "Good girl—both of you. You're doing beautifully, sweetheart, look at how well you're reading her." Her eyes moved to yours and held them. "Keep going. Just like that. Don't change anything."

You kept going. The same angle, the same curl, and Natasha was moving now—her hips rolling toward your hand in small controlled increments that were becoming less controlled, the muscle of her stomach tight beneath your other palm. Wanda kissed her steadily, swallowed her sounds, her hand keeping Natasha's face exactly where she wanted it.

"Faster," Wanda said to you. "A little. And add another finger. She can take it."

You gave her faster, and you slipped a third finger inside, the slick sound of it audible in the quiet room.

Natasha's head dropped back from Wanda's mouth. "Wanda—"

"Mm?" Wanda pressed her lips to Natasha's throat.

"I'm—I need—" Her hips were losing their rhythm, chasing your hand more desperately. "Please—"

"Please what?" Wanda said.

"Ma'am—" The word cracked in the middle. "Ma'am—please—I'm so close—"

"I know you are." Wanda's hand moved to the back of your wrist, stilling it.

"Don't you dare—" Natasha started.

"Stop," Wanda said to you.

You listened, your expression sympathetic towards Natasha.

Natasha made a sound that was genuinely pained. Her cunt clenched around your fingers, finding them motionless, and she dropped her forehead to Wanda's shoulder with a sharp exhale.

"Fuck you both—" The words came out muffled in Wanda's shoulder.

"Language, darling," Wanda said mildly.

"You're cruel," Natasha said.

"You're dramatic." Wanda pressed her lips to Natasha's hair. "You're also going to get there. Just not yet." She looked at you over Natasha's shoulder. "Such a perfect girl. You did that perfectly."

Your stomach turned over at the praise. You slipped your fingers free and Natasha made another involuntary sound at the loss. You knew she would've mouthed off some more if she didn't know that Wanda would hold firm on her promise.

"Go get the strap," Wanda said to you. "Our favorite one, baby."

You smiled, because you knew exactly which one that was. Excitement flooded through you, and you made quick work of grabbing the toy from the second drawer of the nightstand.

You worked the harness on while sitting on the edge of the bed and Wanda watched you do it with her chin in her hand, her curls falling over one shoulder. When it was in place, you looked up and found her eyes moving over you with visible approval.

"Beautiful," she said simply. "Lie back for me."

You lay back. The strap stuck straight up, slightly ridiculous, completely familiar.

"Natasha," Wanda said. "She's ready for you."

Natasha looked at the strap, then at you. Something in her expression shifted—from the frustrated edge Wanda had put her on into something more directed, something more focused.

She moved over you. Her thighs settled on either side of your hips, her red hair falling forward around her face. A bead of sweat traced the line of her throat—she'd been worked up for a while now, her skin damp and warm. She looked down at you and reached between you to angle the strap, and her eyes stayed on your face as she sank down onto it.

The sound she made as she was filled was quiet and satisfied. Her hands gripped your stomach and her head dropped backwards for a moment, her chest rising and falling faster. You felt the pressure of her hips pushing the strap against your clit, and you moaned softly.

You put your hands on her hips. She exhaled.

"How does that feel?" Wanda asked. She'd settled beside you, close by, her hand coming to rest warm on your sternum. Her eyes were moving between both your faces, attentive to everything.

"Full," Natasha said. Her voice was rough already. "Feel full—"

"I know." Wanda's hand pressed flat on your chest. "Roll your hips. Slowly."

The sound Natasha made was not quiet that time.

She found the angle that worked—you watched her find it, the moment her brow smoothed and her breath caught, the specific roll of her hips that seated the strap exactly where she needed it. Her abs pulled taut with the motion. The sweat at her throat caught the light.

And then you saw that glint in her eyes. You had only that as a warning before "slowly" turned into a pace of her own, and she knew exactly what she was doing with that speed change. Testing Wanda's patience, pushing those rules like she loved to do.

"Natasha, darling," Wanda said, amusement in her tone.

Natasha looked at her, panting but also completely knowledgable of her actions and the potential consequences of them.

"Slow down. And keep those eyes on her," Wanda said, nodding toward you. "Not me. Let her see you fuck yourself stupid on that strap."

Natasha's eyes came down to yours, though your eyes did not meet hers. You were watching her breasts—round and full, nipples hard in the air of your bedroom, bouncing with every movement she made. You loved the current situation, but oh how good it would feel to wrap your lips around one of those nipples…

"Focus, baby." Wanda's voice pulled you out of that train of thought, a knowing glint in her eyes. You blushed furiously, nodding and meeting Natasha's eyes.

"Good," Wanda said. Her hand on your chest moved in slow circles, warming the skin. "Keep going, Natasha. Find your pace." She glanced down at you again. "You're doing so well, sweetheart. You feel good?"

"Yes," you managed.

"Yeah?" Her hand drifted lower, finding your nipple and rolling it between her fingers. "Tell me. Tell Mommy."

"It feels—god—" Words were getting harder. Natasha's hips had found a rhythm and it was devastating. "Feels so good—"

"I know." Wanda pressed slightly harder and you arched. "I know it does. She's taking you so beautifully." Her dark eyes moved up to Natasha. "Faster."

Natasha obeyed without hesitation.

Natasha was extraordinarily good at riding—a fact that all three of you knew. Where this experience came from, you and Wanda debated often. Wanda had always assured you Natasha had gained it from their marriage, but Natasha herself had mentioned that before Wanda, when she was primarily with men, she was often on top and in control, which led you to believe she picked up her riding skills from that.

You thought about Natasha's past relationships sometimes: Steve (apparently his ass really was perfect as she pegged him), Bruce (she said you would regret it if you ever brought it up). Natasha had once told you she was never truly happy with those because she was always in charge. But with Wanda, she had someone she could give herself to without fear, who she could trust to always care for her. Surrender was not simple for someone like Natasha, but with Wanda it came like it was meant to be. Something easy to fall into, because she knew she would be caught in safe, loving arms. Well, as easy as it could be to a massive brat.

Her hips moved with an experienced rhythm, her back arching oh so beautifully. Her whole body was involved in it, the strong line of her thighs flexing with every motion. Her hands on your stomach kept you anchored. Her abs contracted and released in a steady pattern. The sweat that had gathered at her throat traced down between her breasts now, and she was making small sounds on every downstroke that she wasn't bothering to suppress.

Wanda's hand worked your nipple slowly, the contrast of her patient touch against Natasha's rhythm maddening.

"You're both doing so well," Wanda said, her praise hitting somewhere deep in you. "Look at her, sweetheart—look at how hard she's working for you. Such a perfect slut for us, taking that strap so well. Look how her pussy takes you in, how she bites her lip just like you do."

You were looking. You couldn't look away. Her breasts bounced, and she was biting that perfect bottom lip. You almost brought up how much of a hypocrite that made Natasha, since she and Wanda were always scolding you for doing that, but one warning look from Wanda had you keeping your mouth shut. It also had you wondering how much mind reading she was doing at the current moment.

"Natasha," Wanda said. "Touch yourself. Let us watch you break."

Natasha's hand moved to her own breast without breaking her rhythm. Her head tilted back slightly. Wanda watched this with focused attention, her hand still working you, bringing out the most adorable whimpers and whines as she tweaked your nipples.

"Good girl," Wanda said, and that was to Natasha. Natasha's hips stuttered fractionally and then recovered.

The pressure against your clit was relentless. Wanda's fingers on your nipples, switching between them, were precise. Natasha's rhythm had reached the point of barely-controlled, her breathing loud in the room, her hand at her own breast less deliberate now and more desperate, leaving red marks in its wake.

"Ma'am—" Natasha's voice was wrecked. "Please—let me—fuck—ma'am, please—"

"I know," Wanda said. "Both of you may cum."

Natasha came first—a sharp sound, her hips snapping down and grinding there, her whole body shuddering. The clench of her around the strap and the grind of the base against your clit was all it took to pull you over with her. You grabbed Natasha's thighs and held on, nails digging into her skin. The orgasm rolled through you in long pulses, Wanda's hand pressing flat against your chest like she was feeling your heart beat through it.

"There you are," Wanda said, soft and satisfied. "Both of you. So good."

Natasha folded forward. Her forehead found your shoulder and she stayed there, breathing hard, her hair damp against your cheek. You kept your hands on her hips, holding her.

Wanda reached over and caressed Natasha's hair, shushing her softly, calming her.

"She's earned a rest," Wanda said after a while. She was looking at Natasha—at the line of her back, the rise and fall of it—but she was speaking to you. Something in Wanda's expression was openly fond. She pressed her hand between Natasha's shoulder blades. "Natasha, darling. you did beautifully. So amazing. I'm so proud of you."

Natasha turned her head without lifting it, one eye visible, a pout on her face. "I know."

Wanda's mouth curved and she cooed, acknowledging Natasha's current headspace, which was beyond fuzzy. "Of course you do."

She helped Natasha off you—gently, holding her steady—and guided her to the side. Natasha went without argument, which said more about the state of her than anything she could have said out loud. Wanda settled her against the pillows and looked at her for a moment, her hand brushing the damp red hair from Natasha's face.

"Rest," she said. "You'll have a job in a minute. I know how you like those."

Natasha's eyes found hers, a familiar excitement shining in her eyes. "…what job?"

"Holding her," Wanda said with a coaxing tone, nodding toward you. "While I have my turn."

Something moved through Natasha's expression, something like thrill. She looked at you, then back at Wanda, and nodded, her grin returning.

Wanda took the harness off you with practiced hands. She looked at it for a moment—the strap still glistening with what was unmistakably Natasha's slick—and she worked it onto herself without ceremony. She caught you watching and held your gaze while she buckled it.

"Natasha," she said, not looking away from you. "Now."

Your heart raced as you were maneuvered and felt the warmth of Natasha settling behind you—her chest to your back, her long legs on either side of yours. Her arms came around you from behind, gathering you in, her chin at the top of your head.

"Ya tut," she murmured into your hair, her voice gathering strength. I'm here. How she managed to be fuzzy for Wanda but in control for you, you didn't question. "Daddy's got you."

Her hands were already moving—one spreading across your stomach, the other coming up to smooth the hair back from your forehead. She did it because she always did, because she knew you hated the feeling of it against your skin and she'd known it since the first time you had let her fuck you and had never once forgotten. Her fingers moved through your hair slowly, stroking it back, and you felt something in your chest go soft and open.

Wanda settled between your thighs and looked at you. Her curls fell around her face in the low light, wild and loose, and her dark eyes moved over you slowly. You could see that she was getting more affected, more focused on your pleasure than she had been when directing Natasha.

"So pretty," Natasha said, right at your ear, taking over the speaking in the absence of Wanda's voice.

Wanda lowered her head to your inner thigh and pressed her lips there. Soft, then not soft—her teeth grazing the skin, then biting down, a clean sharp mark that made you gasp. She pressed her lips to it after, acknowledging it. Her eyes came up to yours.

"I'm going to take care of you," she said, her voice raspy, a hint of that Sokovian accent she normally kept hidden peeking through. "Hold still."

Her eyes flicked to Natasha, and they had a silent agreement, probably that if you couldn't follow that command then Natasha would help you.

Wanda's mouth moved further up your inner thigh. She left another bite, lower, where the skin was thin and sensitive. The sting bloomed and she soothed it with her tongue. Behind you, Natasha's arm tightened across your stomach.

"Krasivaya," Natasha murmured. Beautiful. Her lips found your temple. "She's marking you. Do you feel it?"

"Yes—"

"Good." Her thumb moved in a slow circle on your stomach. "Let her. It's beautiful. Seeing you marked by Mommy."

Wanda's fingers found your pussy and stroked through it slowly—assessing, thorough, her eyes still on your face. She pushed two fingers inside you and curled them and held, watching what it did to your expression.

"Good?" she asked.

"Yes, Mommy—"

She pressed another kiss to your inner thigh and began to work you open. She took her time, scissoring her fingers, adding a third, her thumb pressing slow circles against your clit. You were soaked already, stretching around her easily.

"She's ready," Natasha said over your shoulder.

"I know." Wanda didn't rush. "I want her more than ready. It's a big strap."

Natasha made a sound at that. Something between amusement and understanding.

"She can take it," she said, and the conversation about you happening over your head like you weren't even there made you clench around Wanda's fingers.

"She can," Wanda argued, meeting Natasha's eyes with a stern look, "but some of us aren't as much of a pain slut as you are, darling."

There it was, the pull back. Natasha grabbing control as she returned to a normal, not so submissive headspace, while Wanda pulled her right back to the sweet spot by reminding her of her place.

Natasha huffed, a white flag act of surrender from her. Her lips pressed to the side of your head.

"Dover'sya yey," she said softly. Trust her. Her hand smoothed your hair back from your forehead again. "Just feel it."

When Wanda finally lined the strap up against your entrance you were trembling faintly, over-sensitized and aching, Natasha's body the only solid thing you felt and understood.

"Breathe," Wanda reminded as she pushed in.

The stretch was big and immediate—the strap filling you completely, Natasha's slick still coating it, and the knowledge of that sent heat pooling through your stomach that had nothing to do with friction. You moaned and Natasha caught it, her arms tightening.

"Vot tak," Natasha breathed—just like that—her lips at your cheekbone. "You feel that? Feel how full you are?"

"Yes—" Your voice was wrecked.

"You feel Mommy's strap in you?" The low rumble of her voice against your ear. "You're taking it so perfectly."

Wanda began to move.

There was nothing patient about it. She set a pace that was deep and relentless from the first stroke, her hands gripping your thighs, red nails digging in. She watched where she was moving into you, how your beautiful pussy opened up around her strap. She watched the strap disappear into you and reappear glistening with each thrust. She watched the bite marks she'd left on your thighs, the way they'd risen to the surface of your skin, pink and perfect in the low light.

"I've got you," Natasha said into your hair. Her hand was still moving, still smoothing the sweat-damp hair from your forehead in those slow careful passes. "I've got you, baby. Daddy's right here." Her other hand spread warm across your ribs, feeling your breathing. "You're so beautiful. Do you know that? Do you hear me?"

"Yes—" The word barely made it out. Wanda's pace had become something that required most of your remaining cognitive function just to breathe through.

"Say it back to me." Natasha's lips at your temple. "You're such a good girl. So good for us." Her hand flat against your sternum now, feeling your heartbeat. "Tell me you hear me."

"I hear you—" A sob split the words in the middle. "Daddy—I-I can't—it's so much—"

"I know." Her arms tightened. "Ya tebya derzhu." I've got you. "I've got you, I'm not going anywhere, you're doing so well—" Her lips were at the corner of your jaw, your cheekbone, pressing there and staying. "The sounds you're making—" Her voice roughened fractionally. "God, baby. So beautiful. You have no idea."

Wanda's hips snapped forward and she groaned at the impact of it, something close to a growl. Her hands gripped your thighs harder. Her chest heaved with the effort of the pace she'd set, and she looked devastating. She looked nearly feral. Wanda taking her pleasure was a sight you didn't see too often, which was truly a shame.

"Fuck," she said. The word came out rough and slightly foreign to her own tongue. "Such a perfect pussy, taking my fucking strap like that—"

"Mommy—" You sobbed, tears breaking from your eyes and rolling down your cheeks. "I can't—I'm going to—"

"No." Wanda's eyes darted to meet yours, her hips only getting rougher. She had this look in her eyes, one similar to what she gave Natasha. Darker, more dominant. She must've realized she was giving you her Natasha look because she made a visible effort to gentle the furrow in her brows at least marginally. "Look at me. Eyes on me."

You found her eyes, hands gripping into the sheets. Natasha's hand smoothed over one of yours, releasing some tension.

"Good girl," Wanda said, hips continuing to drive into you. "Hold it."

"She's shaking," Natasha said over your shoulder. An observation, monitoring. Her hand pressed flat over your heart.

"I know, Natasha—" Wanda's pace was losing its perfect rhythm, her own breathing ragged now. "She's going to be okay." Her eyes stayed on yours. "You're going to be okay. Ten more seconds. Count them."

Natasha counted with you, low and right into your ear in Russian—desyat', devyat', vosem'—her hand moving through your hair—sem', shest'—the strap hitting deep on every number—pyat', chetyre, tri, dva—

"Now," Wanda said, her eyes glowing a deep red for the split second you could keep looking at them. "Cum for me right now—"

The orgasm broke through you completely.

It started deep and rolled outward in waves that took everything with them—your back arching up off Natasha's chest, your hands grabbing for anything, finding Natasha's forearms and gripping there. Natasha winced at the immediate sting but tried not to show it, something like amusement running through her. The sounds coming out of you were loud and completely unmanaged. Natasha held you through every one of them, her arms locked around you, her lips at your ear saying your name and I've got you and so beautiful, so perfect, you did it, I've got you—

Wanda's hips stuttered and she broke.

She came with her forehead dropping toward your sternum, a shattered sound escaping her, her hips grinding deep and holding there. Her hands at your thighs went loose and spirals of scarlet magic swirled across your skin from her fingertips, her breath coming in short and sharp pulls.

Then there was quiet, just the three of you breathing.

Wanda pulled out slowly. Natasha's arms kept you held through it, her chest warm against your back.

Wanda set the harness aside. She pressed her lips to each bite mark on your inner thighs in turn and then moved up the bed and lay down beside you, and for a moment she just stared at the ceiling with her hair spread wild across the pillow.

Natasha watched her over your shoulder.

"Come here," Natasha said, shifting you to make more room. And she did enjoy the whine you let out as you tried to become a blob in her arms, post-orgasm bliss running through you.

Wanda turned her head, eyes looking from you to Natasha.

"Come here," Natasha said again, softer. "Please, Wanda."

Something in Wanda's expression shifted, a controlled thing letting go. She moved, and Natasha rearranged the three of you, and then you were tucked between them—Wanda at your front, Natasha at your back with them facing each other—and Natasha's arm reached over you to rest across Wanda's waist.

Wanda exhaled shakily.

"You were…incredible," you said into her shoulder, eyes closed. "Felt so good."

Wanda let out a laugh, quiet and maybe even slightly bashful.

Natasha's hand moved up and down Wanda's side slowly. "She's right. You were."

Wanda was quiet for a moment, and then her hand found yours under the blanket. "You both were." She squeezed once. "My good girls."

"Both of us?" Natasha asked, that famous grin returning.

"When you're behaving," Wanda amended.

"I behaved."

"You've been…adequately good," Wanda quipped.

"Adequately—" Natasha sounded genuinely offended. "I held her through the whole thing. My arms are tired. And did you see me ride her? Shit, moves like that would earn me a medal at a rodeo."

You laughed—face pressed into Wanda's shoulder. Wanda's chest was moving with her suppressed version. Natasha made a dignified sound.

"I just want some acknowledgment," she pouted.

"Go to sleep, Natasha," Wanda said.

"I'm making a reasonable—"

The sound of Wanda's hand meeting Natasha's hip was crisp and decisive, a spank that was proof enough of Wanda's dominance over Natasha still existing.

"Ow." A pause. "That was my hip, not my—"

"Close enough. Sleep."

After a moment, you heard the distinctive sound of Natasha choosing to settle in with an intact dignity.

"Spokoyno nochi," Natasha said. Good night. "To those of us who are being gracious about this."

"Good night, baby," Wanda said. You could hear her rolled eyes in her tone.

You pressed your lips to her shoulder. "Good night, Mommy. Night, Daddy."

The room was warm and dim. Outside the window, the night was doing whatever nights do. In the room, there were three of you breathing, Natasha's hand moving in a slow absent rhythm on Wanda's waist, Wanda's thumb tracing small circles on the back of yours, nobody moving toward sleep quite yet because nobody wanted to be the first to lose this.

Natasha was asleep within four minutes. She always was.

You lay between them and listened to her breathing slow and felt Wanda's pulse steady under your palm and thought that this—this exactly—was everything.

a/n: trying something new and not doing the fic in small text. personally i like the small text look better, but you let me know please :D

also this was my first wandanat x reader and i am ummm anxious! sooooo....okay bye! posting this then going off to bed!

[wandaslovey]

\\ my humble attempt at converting some of you to bladder control/piss kink 🙂‍↕️ //

wanda is very concerned about your water intake. you’ve never been very good at drinking enough throughout the day, and so she is determined to help you build a healthy habit.

one day, she fills a brand new hydro flask (in your favorite color, so you’d be more excited to drink from it) up with cold water. not ice cold, but just crisp enough to be refreshing.

“come sit with me. we’ll watch something.” she says.

you’re unsuspecting of anything, so you happily cuddle up next to her in the love seat. you two rarely sit on the long sofa, preferring to have your limbs tangled together on the cushy one-seater.

“i have something for you.” she hums, presenting you with your very own insulated water bottle.

your nose wrinkles, but you manage to crack a small smile. “…thank you.” you mind your manners. it may not be the best gift in the world, but it was still a gift nonetheless.

wanda’s gaze is intent on you as she watches you settle against her. your bum is half resting against the arm of the chair, your legs curled and nestled on top of her lap. she watches as you cradle the bottle close to your torso, but otherwise pay it no mind.

she lets your flippancy go for the moment. one arm curls around your back, holding you close while the other reaches for the remote to find something to watch.

“(y/n).” her voice cuts into the silence, calling your attention to her. her eyes are still fixated on the screen ahead.

“you have half an hour to drink the water in that hydro flask.” she selects a movie—which you don’t see, because you’re now looking at her incredulously. thirty minutes? you don’t even drink that much water in one day.

“i already drank some this morning.” you try to reason with her. surely any type of fluid was better than no fluid at all—right?

“that was an energy drink. that doesn’t count.” she doesn’t buy it for a second, which you should have figured.

“i’m pretty sure there’s some water in those.”

she’s looking at you now, a disproving expression on her face. “30 minutes.” she repeats, and then her attention is back on the movie.

you sigh softly, defeated. you bring the plastic straw up to your lips to take your first swig of water. it’s cold and tasteless. you didn’t like it.

wanda reaches the hand that was wrapped around you to pet the back of your head, a silent encouragement to keep going. you take another few sips and then pause.

your eyes watch the clock hung above the tv with trepidation. all of a sudden it seemed like time moved so much faster. you didn’t know what the consequence would be if you didn’t finish. you weren’t sure you wanted to find out.

as the minutes tick by, you attempt to drink all you can. it was a painstaking process really. the whole venture only reminded you why you didn’t like to drink water in the first place.

your tummy was starting to feel full, but it wasn’t just that.

another sensation curled in your belly. your bladder was getting full. you hadn’t eaten yet today, and it always seemed like that made liquids move through you more quickly.

you glance up at the clock again, the long hand shifting a millimeter to the right, sealing your fate. thirty minutes had now officially passed.

your body tenses, awaiting for wanda’s reaction.

she doesn’t say anything. she’s smooth—composed, her eyes still fixed on the movie. it was only mere moments later that she glances at the clock, noticing the time.

she lets out a long breath and then turns to face you, her eyes drifting to the water bottle settled against your thighs. she reaches for it and holds it in her hand, weighing it as if to test how full it still was. she shakes it back and forth, and you can both clearly hear the water sloshing around in there.

her green eyes flit to yours. your cheeks are flush and eyes wide as you take in her expression.

“couldn’t finish?” she asks softly, as if she wasn’t upset to find you hadn’t drank all the water. you shake your head slowly.

“hmm… that’s okay, baby. you tried your best, didn’t you?” her fingers smooth over the worried expression on your brow, a sympathetic look on her face.

you nod your head, a bit dazed. you feel like you’re still waiting for the other shoe to drop. it doesn’t seem to come.

she places the hydro flask on the small table next to the love seat, holding you even closer to her as she cuddles you. suspicious or not, you still melt in her arms.

15 more minutes pass before you’re reminded of your full bladder. it was starting to ache—that feeling of needing to pee becoming harder to ignore.

you uncurl your limbs, sitting up as you intend to head to the bathroom. her arms come around to stop you.

“where are you going?” she asks, an edge to her voice as if she’d miss you too much if you left.

“to the bathroom.” you explain, renewing your efforts to stand. she doesn’t relax her hold.

“no, stay here with your mommy.” she pulls you back to her, cradling you even closer than before.

“wanda—“ you start, meaning to tell her you really did have to pee.

“stay.” she says with finality. your body slumps slightly in defeat. you didn’t know how else you could communicate your need to go.

a couple more minutes pass and you’re about to say something again when you feel her hand slowly travel across your hip, down your stomach until her palm rests just below your belly button. she rubs soft circles there for a moment. it almost feels relaxing, but that’s before you suddenly feel her begin to apply pressure.

you inhale sharply, your pelvic floor muscles clenching as she pushes directly against your full bladder.

“wanda,” you whine, your hands coming down to rest against hers.

“you have to go, don’t you?” her lips are at your ear. her words send a shiver down your spine. this was the other shoe. she’d planned this.

“mommy… please.” you whimper, your legs curling up towards your chest.

she applies more pressure with her fingers, long, slow circles pressing more firmly against you. she doesn’t say anything, simply watching your body wiggle and writhe as she tortures you.

“only good puppies who obey mommy get to use the potty.” she purrs into your neck, her free hand reaching from behind to soothingly pet the side of your head.

“oh… please!” you squeak, this time more desperate. your muscles are clenched so tightly, willing your bladder to hold on just a second longer. you don’t know if you could ever come back from wetting yourself while you’re on top of wanda’s lap.

“maybe next time you’ll listen when i tell you to drink your water?” she says, sounding smug, but you couldn’t focus on that in the moment.

you hear her chuckle lowly next to your ear when your little whines and pleads become more desperate. she can tell you can’t hold on much longer.

“i can’t hold it mommy! please!” you’re desperate, your hands clawing at her, your muscles all tensed up bracing for the worst. the pressure against your bladder is relentless. it was hopeless to try and hold back.

you let out a choked sob as your muscles relax against your will, your bladder letting go as your panties become wet with pee. you buck against her, whining and blubbering as you’re forced to relieve yourself.

“awww, that’s it, sweet puppy. let it out for mommy.” she massages your pelvis through the whole thing, not letting up until she can tell you’ve completely emptied your bladder.

your tear stained cheeks are red with embarrassment. you can’t look at her, only capable of whimpering at your predicament.

it was humiliating in the most delicious way. you find your brain is fuzzy, no coherent thoughts fully forming except that maybe, just maybe, you *might* drink more water next time.

[wandasaura]

“Shh, stay still baby. Stay still. Daddy’s gotta clean you up before we can get you ready for the pool.”

Your mind is too fuzzy to comprehend what she could mean by that, or what she could intend to be doing with her fingers between your legs that are only creating more wetness, but before you can ask, or even begin to formulate your own wild fantasies, Natasha walks you into the corner until your tits meet the cold tile, your hands bracing against the wall in shock as she wrestles the showerhead between your thighs she’d directed you to spread just moments ago. That makes sense now. It all makes sense now. As much as it can anyways.

Your hips thrash wildly the second she places the showerhead onto your clit, the jet set stream like a bullet shooting through you at full force with no mercy. Her chest keeps you still for the most part, her breasts, so full yet perfectly round on her chest, small enough to look flat beneath her button ups when she wears those bras from Nike, but plump enough for you to feel every raised bump and spec on her similarly puckered areolas that are pressing into your spin demandingly.

“Someone’s feeling jumpy, huh?” Natasha teases, directing the stream of water to your hole for only a moment, but enough of a moment to have you desperately pulling at her grip, arching away from her boobs as you whine and whimper at the sensations she’s causing while actively clearing away any traces of arousal — for now. “Oh, are you close, sunshine? Is Daddy getting you all nice and clean turning you on? Naughty girl. So naughty getting off to this. It feels good doesn’t it? Oh I know, sweet thing. I know it does. That little head doesn’t need to think about anything, it just needs to feel what Daddy’s doing. There you go, there you go.” Natasha drops her head into the crook of your neck, desperately sucking a decent sized hickey into your skin in a place that no bathing suit or photo angle would cover unless it was miraculously taken from the complete opposite angel in the dark.

“N-No! No p-please!” Your voice is quiet and dismayed as your hips cant to chase the showerhead she pulls away at the very last moment before an orgasm tears through your body. You were quivering before, you’re trembling now. The lick of sadistic enjoyment that filters through Natasha as she holds your denied body between her hands and smirks against the soft skin of your damp and sweet smelling neck.

“I told you, sunshine. We were just cleaning you up before the party starts. Did you forget?” Natasha mocks pitilessly, nipping your neck before she pulls away, turning the shower off too soon. “Silly girl.”

It gets cold immediately, like a blanket being torn from your body in the middle of a fall morning. You shiver, immediately turning on your heels and stammering to step closer to her again — magnetized to her warmth in every sense that she delivers it upon you, even in denial.

“Only good girls get to cum, sunshine, and you haven’t listened to Daddy one bit this morning. Let’s see if we can turn that around this afternoon, hm? See if that pussy deserves a reward or if it’s gonna be left all achey and empty until tomorrow.” There’s a finality in Natasha’s tone that brings the tears back to your eyes, but they blend into the droplets of water that drip down your face from your hair as she helps you out of the bathtub, wrapping a towel around your still trembling body. “So reactive.” Natasha hums when she brushes over your nipples as she tucks the corner of the towel in between your breasts, changing her approach to something soft, wistful as she handles you.

[imtiredmama]

˚𝜗𝜚 Baby Bambi 𝜗𝜚˚

Pairing: Stepmother Wanda x Fem Reader

A/n: this makes no sense and is hella rushed, but fuck it

Summary: All you wanna do for the summer is work as much as possible to avoid your new stepmother, no matter the cost on your body and mind. Your rich stepmother seems appalled by the idea, forcing you on a weekend getaway with her to... bond.

Wordcount: 4k

Warnings: Step-parent, the most unoriginal plot in existence, mommy kink, dom/sub, mock sympathy, pet names, praise kink, age gap (R=mid 20s, W=early 40s), smut, somnophilia, grinding, mild dub-con, humping, fingering, perv Wanda, rich people

The cracked handle of the broom is clutched loosely in your hand as you take in the massacre before you.

Countless cereal boxes are scattered along the floor, some slowly seeping out more work for you as pebbles and crumbs ooze from the broken plastic seals. Drifting in an ocean of Captain Crunch, Lucky Charms, and Cheerios, you get closer to the source of your interrupted break.

It seems that during your fifteen-minute lunch break, the cereal aisle exploded.

Clusters of cereal lie strewn along the floor with strange voids in the middle, like a shitty murder mystery, just that instead of a body being outlined by white tape, it was more like a blob monster drawn with Cheerios.

It wasn’t the first time either- this is the third time just this week that you’ve had to clean it up.

Safe to say, your workplace has a cereal killer on the loose.

The squeak of obnoxiously loud sneakers screeches to a halt on the opposite side of the murder scene. A shadow falls across the dire situation as murder suspect #1 completely disregards the mess in front of you. Instead, the boom of hands colliding with each other has you raising your brows in annoyance.

“Why are you just standing there? Come on, we need you at the registers, chop chop!” Kyle, your asshole of a manager, doesn’t waste a second to hear your response, already halfway across the room before you can open your mouth. His condescending clapping still echoing down the hall with his retreat.

If it weren’t for the fact that he always gave you the shifts you wanted, you would’ve made him the murder outline by now. However, as it stands, he’s the only reason you get out of the house as much as you do, so with a huff, you get to work.

To say your time back from Uni has been dull would be an understatement. The thought drifts somewhat loosely in your head as you clock out at the end of your shift. It’s late, the time trickling into midnight as you make your way across the parking lot.

Mindlessly kicking a rock around, it jumps over bumps and crashes against divots in the pavement. The gentle clatter of stone striking is suddenly overpowered by the honk of a car.

The air shifts, her presence layers itself like something tangible until it slathers against the inside of your throat. You can’t escape the jump of your pulse or the squeeze of your lungs as headlights illuminate you in the darkness.

You attempt an on-foot escape from the familiar Porsche closing in on you. Your shoe digs into your heel, the bent material has become a near-constant ache as it aggravates the blister that brewed long ago. A slick dribble of blood smears itself against your white sock, spreading until a ring of red peeks over the edge of your shoe.

The voice of your stepmother follows your hasty retreat, but your ignorance is short-lived as Wanda points an accusatory finger through her rolled-down window.

“Nuh uh, no avoiding me today, baby Bambi.” The pet name runs through you like a splash of cold water, sending chills down your spine as you freeze in your path.

Wanda points to the passenger seat, undeterred by your initial resistance. It has become a dance between you and your stepmother since you came home for the summer. She would insist that you both do something together, to bond or whatever, while you would take on extra hours and avoid her religiously.

She has tried to pick you up from work multiple times now, but you would pretend you didn’t see her, simply walking past or hitching a ride with a coworker.

You know it’s rude, but you’d rather be rude than admit that you have a crush on your own stepmother.

There is no telling how it festered, but since the moment you laid your eyes on her, she’s consumed you. The idea of spending more time with her than strictly necessary sinks like a weight into the pit of your stomach.

You’d rather she hate you than be disgusted by your perverted crush.

Besides, you are well over the age where you need to bond with your father’s partner. It’s not like it will last anyway, anyone with a pair of eyes can tell they married for business’s sake. Your father owns a rather lucrative business in the corporate world, a business that just so happens to have been your stepmother’s business rival until the two CEOs supposedly found love.

Yeah, love is what you would call the new car in your dad’s driveway and him stepping down to let Wanda handle both businesses.

There was no telling why she hadn’t left him yet.

Today would be another one of your elusive instances if it weren’t for the look she is giving you. It’s stricter than usual, with a tightness around her mouth and firmness in her eyes.

With a sigh, you climb into the passenger seat. A waft of rich perfume engulfs your tired frame. It creeps over your skin like a second layer, spreading the warm scent of cinnamon and cherry over your sweat-stained uniform. Wanda regards you with a strange fondness in her eyes as your slumped frame not so subtly leans toward her in pursuit of the smell's source.

Wanda is dressed more homely today, her blond hair slung into a side part and her face void of makeup. Even her clothing choice is far beyond the usual. You’ve gotten used to the blazers and form-fitting dress pants over the past few weeks, but today she’s in a simple white shirt coupled with some washed jeans.

The sluggishness of your exhaustion must be doing a number on you, as you don’t even realize you’re staring until a touch against your leg startles you.

A hand settles, palm up, on your thigh as she drives out of the parking lot. The shitty fabric of your work pants does little to diffuse the heat that radiates from her. A strange lump forms in your stomach at the thought of heat spreading elsewhere, as her patience seems to run thin. “Come on, hand it over.”

You blink in confusion, looking over to where her eyes stay glued to the road, in question.

She glances at you, a hint of amusement and something you’ve never seen on her, flashing across her features, “Your phone. You know the rules, honey.” 

Ah right…

It was one of the weird things she had started implementing into your life.

The rules.

Most of them were fairly easy: keep your room clean, wash the dishes when it’s your turn, and help make dinner when you aren’t working. Then there were the stranger ones. Suddenly, you had a curfew at 10 pm outside of work hours, you weren’t allowed on your phone in Wanda’s vicinity, and only approved guests could stay over.

Knowing there is no point in making a fuss about it, you fish your phone out before dropping it gently into Wanda’s waiting palm. She opens the middle console and puts it in before leaning over slightly to pat your thigh in reward.

“Well done, darling. Thank you.”

The pet names are another odd addition to Wanda’s involvement in your life. Though they are always sweet, they make you squirm. People in your life never really use nicknames, or pet names, or anything other than your name when they are referring to you.

Wanda is an anomaly in your preferably predictable life.

The crunch of gravel beneath the tires lulls you out of your thoughts. The car drums gently atop the small rocks, some of them knocking against the rim in a soothing hiss that rings through the quiet car.

However, it does confuse you. The road back to your dad’s place doesn’t have any gravel roads. Now that you’re thinking about it, you're pretty sure Wanda is driving the wrong direction altogether.

“Where are we going?”

The slim silence while Wanda seems to ponder her wording makes a drop of sweat drip down your back, “My apartment. Your father is gone for the weekend, and I thought we girls should bond a little.”  

Your sluggish mind takes a moment to catch up, merely staring at her, until it hits you like a slap in the face. Spending more time with her addicting presence is the last thing you should be doing. If Wanda had any sense in her, she would see why you avoid her and run for the hills.

“Wan-”

Her hand, not currently occupying the steering wheel, is in your face. Squishing your cheeks together harsher than necessary, Wanda tsks, “No. I don’t want to hear it. Is it really that horrible to spend time with me?”

Fingertips release you from her hold, instead, they glide softly along your cheek. It hypnotizes you, your need to comfort her is stronger than your will to stay away: “No, of course not.”

A happy hum is all you get before her warmth is gone, both hands on the wheel and eyes staying strictly forward as Wanda keeps driving. “Good. Then it’s decided.”

You sigh your agreement.

────୨ৎ────

A lone chair sits in Wanda's luxurious hallway. It’s the first thing you notice, its rich brown color absorbs some of the warm light filtering from above. It’s a stark contrast from the rest of the white hall.

Paintings are scattered across both sides of the hallway, the illustrations vary, some abstract pieces hanging above the coatrack while a far too explicit painting of a woman engaging in… some interesting acts… sits atop the door that you assume leads to the living room.

You squirm where you stand, twisting your fingers as blush crawls up your neck. Wanda’s soft chuckle directly behind you does little to diffuse the sudden tension tightening your stance.

“Come here.”

There is no time to react before Wanda pushes you onto that neat little chair.

The groan of wood falls on deaf ears as all your senses hone in on Wanda’s hands. Fingers slide against your knees, the pressure of her fingertips pushing against the stiff material of your pants before grasping your ankle. Words choke themselves, stuck as your stepmother inspects your bloodied sock.

Blond tresses sway against your exposed skin as she lifts your pants for a better look. A dried slab of blood clings to your skin, a smudge of red festering on the back of your shoe where the broken back resides.

A suspiciously handy med-kit resides under the chair, Wanda getting to work with a quiet, “Poor baby.”

You stay silent as she goes through the motions of cleaning your bloody blister before adding a silly-themed band-aid over it. Leaning back on her knees with one last pat to your heel, Wanda eyes your destroyed shoes before looking back at you.

“I fear those will have to go.”

You know she’s right: if not for your bleeding heel, then the fact that the soles are practically nonexistent by now. Still, you can’t help the tears that build in your eyes at the news. You know you’re just tired and being stupid, but you really like these shoes.

The thought of fighting against her words must flash across your face because Wanda clicks her tongue before you have the chance to open your mouth.

“Now now, I know you’re tired, but there is no reason to throw a tantrum, baby Bambi.”

A stunned stillness settles over you at her words, it’s infuriating how she belittles you, yet some small part of you blooms under the condescending tone that drips so sweetly from her tongue.

The pitter-patter of Wanda’s socked feet hitting the wooden flooring as she starts walking away from you almost has you on your knees begging for forgiveness before she stops.

Illuminated by the bathing light of the living room, Wanda stands directly under her unique art. The warm orange bounces against her loose curls, leaving a strange dreamlike effect as her words float around the far too empty space between the two of you.

“Now, come, it’s late and mo- and I don’t want more attitude in the morning.” The soft murmur of her voice fades away from you as she turns, leaving you to force your depleting strength into your muscles and dart after her at what you hope is an appropriate speed.

Wanda leads you into a guest room, leaving with a curt goodnight.

It all seems awfully rushed to you. You know it’s probably for the best, the mere sliver of affection she granted you today already having left an addiction buzz inside your head.

But you’re greedy.

You want more.  

It’s the last thought you have before you succumb to the strangeness of tonight, drifting in an ocean of cinnamon and cherry as your head hits red silk.

────୨ৎ────

The cusp of darkness lies like a shroud above you as you wake up. Something is pushing toward you, heat engulfing your tired frame. Seconds tick by in a meaningless fashion before your mind catches up to the tickle of blonde tresses against your back.

It seems that sometime in the night, Wanda has come back for you. She cocoons around you, pushing in at strange intervals.  

You almost ask her if something is wrong before a sound submerges your train of thought.

Wanda’s scattered breath weighs heavily in the air. Sounds you have never heard from her before now moaned directly into your ear.

It stuns you into silence as you focus on her movements.

Hips buck against your back, seeking pleasure in your unassuming form. Wanda grinds gently, like waves cruising along the coastline, back and forth in smooth motions. Her sleeping shorts ruffle on your lower back, bunching with the movement of her hips and pressing into you.

You can hear her breath grow heavier by the second, puffing against the shell of your ear. The last remnants of slumber burn away from you as your own breath hitches in your throat. You wonder what she’s dreaming about.

At least you think she’s dreaming…

The lips resting against your neck expose Wanda's pleasure as she moans silently, “Fuck, I can’t stop… Baby Bambi, fuck.”

The sound of her sends a shiver through you. She isn’t dreaming. Your stepmother is humping your sleeping form because she wants you.

Needs you.

 You have to suppress the need to grind back into her desperately. It’s like a sickness, her desperation bleeding into your own as your breath grows quicker.

A hand sneaks beneath your t-shirt. The warmth of her palm travels up- up- up until she’s cupping one of your tits gently. Fingers circle the sensitive flesh of your nipple, not hard enough to rouse any real reaction, but constant enough for the wetness between your thighs to grow.

“You feel so good, baby Bambi.”

The ache in your chest explodes at her words, leaving you to pant against the sheets as you try to keep quiet. You fear what would happen if she knew you were awake, the thought of her stopping almost lets a whine slip past your slack lips.

Her other hand palms against your side now, gripping your hips lightly before braving the path down. She skims over your lower stomach, pushing you deeper against Wanda’s moving hips before she’s rubbing a teasing pressure against your underwear.

Two fingers rub in circular motions, only interrupted by her wild jerking. Wanda’s fingers drag a path across the sticky wetness of your pussy. She tests the stretch of your underwear, pushing against your opening before retreating and returning to your clit.

The bucking turns rougher, with sporadic jumps followed by a drawn-out “Baby, fuck-”

You squeeze your eyes shut, begging for the mercy of her mounting pleasure before you come in your panties, untouched, and reveal yourself. Instead, there is a murmur against your neck, something that sounds suspiciously like “fuck it,” before soft lips trail kisses against the back of your neck.

The movement of her hips stops, then her haughty voice breaks the newfound stillness: “I know you’re awake.”

For a moment, the world freezes as a thousand thoughts drift through your head.

Has she known the entire time?

Were you not supposed to wake up?

Is she mad at you?

But your inner panic is cut short as a thigh pushes itself between your legs. The warmth of her is a stark contrast to the wet patch sticking to the inside of your thigh.

Her hands shift to hold your hips firmly as she starts rocking you with her movement, surrendering you to her mercy as she drags you against the meat of her thigh. Your swollen clit strains against the soaked fabric of your underwear, the flimsy material the only hindrance between your flesh and hers.

“Let mommy take care of you, hm, what do you say, baby?”

A desperate keen is the only response she gets as she flips you.

The weight of a body pins you flat against the bed, coarse fabric pushing along your back as her chest settles atop you. Rougher hands lift until your hips wag in the air.

“You really thought mommy wouldn’t notice, baby?”

There is not a moment of wasted breath before your underwear is quickly pushed to the side and her fingers plunge into you. The naughty noise of wet squealing and your surprised moans bounce against the bedroom walls.

“Fuck, well done, baby Bambi, you take me so well.” The hair on the back of your neck drifts with her words as they blow over your skin. Wanda’s pushing against her hand, humping you as she fucks you roughly.

She grunts deeply, “Can mommy tell you a secret?”

The pads of Wanda’s fingertips rail against your sweet spot repeatedly, her words barely hanging on to meaning. She laughs at your pathetic cries, pushing your head further into the sheets. A pool of saliva turns the white fabric sheer.

Her moans grow in volume with your own, the both of you speeding toward pure bliss.

“Shit, I've been thinking about this for so long.”

Your skin surrenders to her teeth as they lodge into your shoulder.

“Ever since I first saw you, mommy knew you needed her.”

She forces your head to the side before she’s kissing you deeply, a tongue forcing its way down your throat. Wanda licks into you as if she's starving, drinking your spit like it’s one of her expensive wines. Her pace speeds up, hurling you toward pleasure faster than you can keep up.

The pressure in your stomach grows and grows, your crying spreading spit across both of your faces.

Wanda hushes you, “Oh, I know, baby, I know.”

“You’ve been working so hard trying to hide from mommy, haven’t you, baby Bambi?”

Her voice grows louder, hinting at how deeply she is affected by her own words.

“It’s why you’re going to quit your job and spend your time with me.”

The fingers inside of you are the only thing you can focus on as you moan your answer.

Wanda releases you from her hold, sitting up on her knees until she towers over your frame. The sweet bliss of your orgasm fades away as she takes her fingers with her. You whine, tears springing to your eyes as the taste of your denied relief sits strong on your tongue.

“Will you do what mommy tells you?

Your ass pushes against her crotch, a small cry of frustration the only sound you manage to make as she palms your ass. You twist your neck all the way to see her, her question going unheard as the sight of her licking your arousal off her fingers consumes you.

The pink of her tongue curls around her digits, dragging across the wet pads of her fingertips seductively slowly. Wanda holds eye contact all the while you watch helplessly, wanting nothing more than for the fingers to drive back into you. A moan rumbles from deep in Wanda’s throat, your answering whine going ignored as she refuses to touch you.

Wanda clicks her tongue, the mental timer ticking down to its end tally.

A slap rings through the bedroom like a gunshot, almost louder than the keening moan that tears through you.

It startles you enough to have words spilling out of you faster than you can comprehend them,

“Yes! Yes, whatever you want! Please, mommy, anything!”

You barely know what you’re saying. Your words are nothing more than nonsensical babble, but it must have made her happy because her fingers come back, railing you harder than ever before. Wanda is back to humping you too, pushing her fingers deeper as she grinds into you.

“There you go, good girl!”

You can’t hear her anymore, the pressure in your stomach is now balancing on a needle’s point. It’s overwhelming: the thickness of your desire choking you, and you begin to fight against her grip. You don’t know what you’re doing, your mind far away as your body fights the inevitable.

Her weight settles back over you as she shushes you gently, her words soft even as her fingers continue their drilling into your wet hole.

“Hush, baby, you’re okay. You’re okay, give in. You can give in now.”

You whine, a panicked noise your only response as the feeling inside of you reaches its limit. It feels like you’re going to explode, the feeling stronger than you have ever felt it before. It blisters inside you, festering onto every nerve, expanding the numbing pleasure from the tips of your fingertips and down to your toes.

Wanda pushes your face into the pillows, the suffocating lack of air, strangely enough, sending you flying over the edge. The loud moaning and jerking against your back tell you that Wanda came right with you.

It’s the last thought you have before the void plunges you in headfirst.

A hazy flicker of static hums inside you as you float far above your own mind. Dim lights simmer beneath your eyelids, a pattern of no sense or reason drawing across your mind like a gentle embrace. Warmth envelopes you, a soothing voice cooing at you while wetness and sweat are wiped away with soft hands.

You’ve just returned to your body when Wanda slides back next to you in bed—all resemblance of space a laughable notion now. Her voice drifts along your residual softness, “Well done, my beautiful girl. You’ll call your manager in the morning, and then we’ll talk. Let's sleep.”

Her palm brushes your cheek before she leans down to plant a sweet kiss atop the red flush. You hum your agreement, the previous conversation long gone from memory. But if it’s what mommy wants, then it’s what she’ll get.

Wanda wraps around you, her body curling into your own as her hand cups you carefully.

“Good girl. Mommy will train you well.”

You have a long weekend ahead of you.

a/n: if anyone asks, you didn't see this...

[natsgrave]

BEGGED | natasha romanoff (part 1)

what a shame you’re not here. here to witness my devotion, and my endless well of needs. i’m an anchor in the ocean, you know i could never leave. i do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other sites. plagiarism is a crime!! main m. list || whispers of heartache m. list || you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love m. list

everybody loved natasha romanoff.

and honestly? y/n couldn’t blame them.

because natasha made it so easy.

she was charming without trying.

attentive when people were watching.

funny when conversations became awkward.

gentle when someone needs comfort.

the type of person who remembered birthdays.

favorite flowers. coffee orders. anniversaries. names. stories.

tiny details most people forgot.

everyone adored her.

and y/n used to adore that about her too.

used to.

now it just hurts.

"seriously, y/n." wanda leaned back in her chair, wine glass in hand, "if you ever let natasha go, i’ll personally fight you."

the entire table erupted into laughter.

"that’s dramatic." tony chimed in.

y/n smiled. the practiced smile.

the one she’d perfected over the years.

"no, she’s right." sam pointed his fork toward natasha, "romanoff literally worships the ground you walk on."

"oh my..." yelena groaned, "you people are insufferable."

"they are." kate agreed, "but they’re cute."

"cute?" clint barked out a laugh, "they’re disgusting."

everyone laughed again.

natasha included.

then natasha did what she always did.

the thing that made everybody melt.

the thing that made y/n’s chest hurt.

she reached across the table, took y/n’s hand, brought her knuckles to her lips, and kissed them.

soft.

gentle.

effortless.

the entire table immediately lost their minds.

"see!?" sam shouted, "that’s exactly what i’m talking about!"

"i’m gonna throw up." kate groaned.

"you’re so dramatic." natasha laughed.

her thumb brushed across y/n’s knuckles.

and for a second — just one second — y/n almost forgot.

almost.

then her phone buzzed.

she looked down.

nothing. still nothing.

the last message she’d sent natasha remained unopened.

12:03 pm

have you eaten today?

3:17 pm

will you be home tonight?

5:42 pm

we’re still on for dinner, right? <3

read by nobody.

answered by nobody.

yet somehow — here natasha was.

holding her hand.

kissing her skin.

looking at her like she hung the moon.

the perfect girlfriend.

the perfect fucking girlfriend.

everybody saw it.

everybody believed it.

and y/n hated herself for wondering: why is it always easier for her when people are watching?

｡˚.𖧧 𑁍 𖧧.˚｡

the rest of dinner passed the same way.

stories. laughter. conversations.

and natasha was involved in every single one.

she listened. she remembered details. she asked questions.

she cared.

god.

she cared.

just never enough.

not enough where it mattered.

"natasha." steve laughed, "you remembered that?"

"of course." natasha shrugged, "you told me three months ago."

three months ago.

y/n’s stomach twisted.

because last week natasha forgot the movie night she’d planned for them.

three months ago.

natasha remembered steve mentioning a restaurant three months ago.

but she forgot y/n sitting beside her asking: "can we spend friday together?"

forgot.

always forgot.

only when it involved y/n.

"earth to y/n."

she blinked.

everyone was looking at her.

"sorry." she smiled.

natasha immediately squeezed her hand.

"you okay, малыш?"

the nickname nearly broke her.

because natasha always sounded sincere.

always.

"yeah." y/n smiled.

lie.

"i’m okay."

lie.

"i’m just tired."

the biggest lie of all.

because she wasn’t tired. she was lonely.

and somehow that felt worse.

｡˚.𖧧 𑁍 𖧧.˚｡

the drive home was quiet.

not uncomfortable. just familiar.

the kind of silence that happens when two people stop trying.

or maybe when only one person is still trying.

natasha drove.

one hand on the wheel, the other resting on y/n’s thigh.

affectionate.

comforting.

enough to fool anyone.

even y/n sometimes.

the city lights blurred outside the window.

y/n stared at them. thinking.

always thinking.

maybe too much.

maybe this was her fault. 

maybe she expected too much. 

maybe natasha was trying.

maybe—

"no." the word escaped before she could stop it.

natasha glanced over, "what?"

y/n blinked, "i didn’t say anything."

"you did." natasha smiled slightly, "you said ‘no.’"

shit.

y/n looked away.

"it’s nothing."

natasha accepted that answer immediately.

and somehow — that hurt too.

because if the roles were reversed — if natasha sounded upset — y/n would’ve asked again.

and again.

and again.

until she got the truth.

natasha didn’t. she never did.

the moment they walked inside the apartment — the illusion disappeared.

not intentionally. that’s what made it worse.

natasha wasn’t pretending.

she just… shifted.

like y/n stopped being the center of her attention once nobody else was around to see.

shoes off.

jacket gone.

phone out.

immediately.

not a kiss.

not a conversation.

not — "how was your day?"

phone. every time.

y/n watched from the kitchen.

watched natasha scroll through emails.

messages. reports. mission updates.

anything. everything. everyone.

please look at me.

the thought appeared before she could stop it.

please.

god.

she hated that thought.

hated it.

because it made her feel pathetic.

like a child begging for attention.

like someone impossible to love.

"long day?" y/n asked.

natasha hummed, "mhm."

nothing else.

just that.

y/n swallowed.

ask about mine.

nothing.

natasha kept scrolling.

please ask.

nothing.

please.

nothing.

y/n smiled. the smile felt painful.

"it’s okay."

natasha looked up, "what is?"

the words almost came out.

the fact that i miss you even when you’re standing right in front of me.

the fact that i’m lonely.

the fact that i’m tired of begging.

instead — "nothing."

natasha nodded. then looked back down.

and y/n felt something inside her crack.

not enough to break. just enough to hurt.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ THREE YEARS EARLIER

her birthday.

the first real crack.

the first time natasha promised something, and didn’t show up.

"i’ll be there." natasha smiled.

y/n pointed a finger at her, "you better."

"i swear." natasha kissed her forehead, "i promise."

promise.

such a dangerous word. but y/n didn’t know that yet.

back then — she believed natasha.

back then — she believed promises meant something.

6:00 pm.

the reservation was under natasha’s name.

y/n kept checking the door.

smiling every time it opened.

thinking: that’s her.

wrong.

every time.

6:30.

then 7.

then 7:45.

people started staring.

the waiter stopped pretending.

"would you like me to keep the table?"

y/n laughed softly. embarrassed.

"yeah."

because natasha was coming.

of course she was.

she promised.

at 8:12 — her phone lit up.

my god given solace ♡

something came up.

i’m sorry.

y/n stared.

and stared.

and stared.

then looked around.

at the empty chair. the birthday cake. the candle already melted. the untouched food. the pity in the waiter’s eyes.

and suddenly — she felt stupid.

so unbelievably stupid.

because she’d spent the entire day excited.

like a child.

for this.

for an apology text.

"it’s okay." she replied immediately.

then another message. one natasha never answered.

“i really wanted you here.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PRESENT.

natasha sat six feet away.

yet somehow — y/n missed her.

and maybe that was the saddest thing of all.

to miss someone who hadn’t actually left.

to feel abandoned by a person sitting in the same room.

to spend years convincing yourself: she’s trying. she’s busy. she loves me.

and wonder — late at night — 

when the apartment is silent,

when natasha is answering another email,

when another promise is forgotten,

when another date gets canceled,

when another apology arrives,

— whether love is supposed to feel this lonely, or if she’s simply gotten so used to begging...

that she doesn’t remember what being chosen feels like anymore.

[wandaslovey]

daddy!natasha has entered the chat

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Surrounded By You

Chapter 3

Summary: The new Natasha starts to settle into her new life

Authors note: this chapter was already finished so I'm posting it. But one of my friends died so expect updates to be slow after this

Word count: 2,551

Natasha Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

SBY Masterlist

"Natasha honey, remember things went differently here. This isn’t Ultron" Wanda's voice cuts through her racing thoughts

She shakes her head in confusion, "What?"

"We stole the body from Ultron before he could transfer his consciousness to it" The witch explains, "Thor helped Tony and Bruce bring him into existence. He helped us defeat Ultron"

"Explains why he sounds like Jarvis" Nat mutters making Wanda chuckle

"I promise, he's not a threat to you, us, or humanity." Wanda assures, "He's just very analytical and can be overly literal at times"

Natasha takes a deep breath and nods, "Okay, I…I trust you"

Both women then move out into the hall where Vision had retreated to in order to help the redheads nerves. He calmly approaches and gives Wanda a kiss on the cheek before looking at Nat.

"My apologies for that. I did not intend to intrude or make you uncomfortable" he tells her, reaching out his hand to be shaken, "I'd like to start off on good footing"

Hesitantly Natasha takes his hand, "Well, don't try to destroy humanity like the guy on my Earth that wore your skin and we'll be just fine"

He chuckles, "Noted"

Meanwhile back at the Tower after training, the original Natasha of this universe huffs as she crosses her arms.

"Oh stop brooding” Tony teases, “Tell us about your twin"

Nat rolls her eyes, "She isn't my twin. She's just me, from a different universe, but still just me"

"Well she's not just you. She's from an entirely different universe. I'm sure there's bound to be differences" Peggy points out

"Okay, yeah. There are" Nat sighs, "Apparently, Ultron won in her universe. She lost her Avengers and was all alone after that"

Everyone is silent for a few moments as they all take in this solemn information. But ever curious, Tony can't help but keep prying, "So then what's she like? Are there any noticeable differences?"

Nat shrugs but before she can answer Yelena does for her, "Well the new one is more….weepy"

"Weepy?" Sam asks with a quirk of his brow, "Yeah, they're different alright"

Nat glares at him, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam holds his hands up in surrender and shakes his head, signaling he doesn’t intend to go any further, "Nothing, nothing"

"What he means is, around us you usually show as much emotion as a rock" Tony blatantly states, and feeling her glare turn to him he continues, "Except irritability and anger of course. Those come in abundance"

"Come now, leave her be" Peggy sighs, feeling like she was dealing with rowdy school children

"I wouldn’t be so irritable all the time if I didn’t have to deal with your snarky remarks, Stark"

"See that's what I mean, already getting snippy and using my last name" Tony teases earning him a slap on the back of his head from Peggy

"Enough" she scolds, now glaring as well

When you walk into the kitchen you're greeted by a rather thick silence. You look around to see Sam, Peggy, Yelena, Tony and Natasha all in various spots around the space. Peggy and Nat are both glaring at Tony so you decide to enter cautiously

"Hey guys, what's going on?" you ask as you stand next to your girlfriend, letting your hand some to rest on her back

"Tony is prying" Yelena explains

"Of course he is. About what this time?" you ask

"Hey, I just wanted to know the differences between the two Nats, that's all" Tony says, acting hurt

"Is that all?" you chuckle, "The other Nat has short hair, and her eyes are blue"

Tony smiles, "See, was that so hard Romanoff?"

"Oh please don't egg him on" Nat groans

You laugh, "Baby its a harmless question, what damage could he possibly do with it?"

"I don't know but I know I don't want to find out"

Tony rolls his eyes, "Can't a man just be curious?"

"A normal one, sure. But not you" Nat deadpans, making you laugh

"Tasha, be nice"

She glances at you, "That was nice"

Back at the Sanctum the other Natasha is currently having tea with Wanda and Vision while they wait for Strange to get back. Nat finds herself a bit nervous about hearing what his friend Wong had to say about her presence here. Truth be told she was afraid of being sent back to her own world

"That wont happen" Wanda assures, making Nat look at her with a surprised expression, "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. Your thoughts are just really loud"

"Right, forgot you're a telepath" the redhead says

"I mean it though. Wong isn't that cruel, and even if he was I wouldn't allow him to send you back there"

"Thank you Wanda, I appreciate that. You seem like an incredibly loyal friend, the other me is lucky to have you"

"She is very loyal, you won't find anyone that cherishes her loved ones more than Wanda" Vision says, reaching out to squeeze the brunettes hand, "But you are mistaken if you think that she is not becoming your friend now too"

Natasha smiles, "I suppose you're right, and that makes me lucky too"

Wanda smiles softly back at her, "thank you, but I think I'm lucky too. To know not just one Natasha, but two, is an honor. And I look forward to getting to know you more and understanding your personality and differences"

"As do I" Vision adds with a smile

Nat smiles back, "For an Android you aren't so bad Vision"

"Thank you"

Just then in the corner of the room a portal opens and Dr Strange steps through. He offers everyone a polite smile before joining them at the table

"As predicted, Wong isn't happy" he says as he conjures us a cup of tea for himself, "I had to endure a very long speech about the dangers of intertwining universes, a speech I'm sure he'll repeat to America when she has her next lesson there"

"Oh, I'm sure", Wanda chuckles, "I'll be sure to go with her so she isn't scolded alone"

Strange turns his gaze to Nat then, "You're allowed to stay, that of course wasn't up for debate but I figured it would do you some good to hear it said"

The tension between her shoulders gives way and she relaxes a bit more, "It does, thank you"

"So now comes the important business, where you'll be staying" Strange continues, "You're welcome to stay here, we have plenty of space. But there is of course, the tower. You may feel more at home there once you get to know everyone"

"I'd like to stay at the tower, though it might be a bit awkward with two Natashas"

"I'm sure the team can handle it" Wanda assures her, "If that's where you want to be, we'll make it happen"

Back at the tower you find your girlfriend sulking in your shared quarters. She's currently on the couch, zoned out while the TV plays in the background. You gently plop down beside her and give her a moment to adjust to your presence before saying anything

After a few minutes you turn to her, "Whats bothering you Tasha?"

She lets out a small huff, "Theres two of me now."

"Yes, it appears that there is. I'm sure that's more than a bit strange"

"It is, but it's more than that" she admits before taking a deep breath. Talking about her feelings this in depth was still a bit of a rarity

"Its okay Tasha. I'm listening, just take it one step at a time" you softly tell her, trying to support her without pushing her

"She knows me better than I've ever let anyone know, and that unnerves me. And everyone seems so excited about her, but shes just me, was I not exciting or worth getting to know?"

"Oh honey" you coo as you scoot closer to her. You take her one hand in yours, "Of course you're worth knowing and are exciting. But we both know you tend to be a bit closed off, and I think the team doesn't always understand that, so they give you lots of space"

Her gaze glues itself to her lap as she struggles to get out the next words, "What if shes not like me so everyone likes her more?"

You can feel your heart twist at her vulnerability but at the same time you're proud of her for letting you in and getting some of her feelings out in the light. It wasn't often she was so willing to do so, you had to make sure your next words are the right ones

"Baby, she very well might have some differences, but that doesn't make her better or more likeable. It just makes the two of you unique. I promise you are just as important as she is, the team is just excited because shes a version of their friend from a much different reality, that would interest anyone"

"I just…I don't want to be replaced"

"Nobody could replace you, Natasha." you tell her, tilting her chin towards you, "Not on this team, and not in my heart"

She looks up at you with a soft smile, "Thank you, kotenok(kitten). Nobody can replace you in my heart either

You gently cup her face, "I know Tasha, I know"

About half an hour later Natasha finds herself no longer at the Sanctum but entering an elevator in the Avengers tower in another persons clothes with weapons from her own world on her back. She's filled with a sense of nostalgia and a small tinge of sadness for the team she lost. When the elevator doors eventually open she finds herself on a private floor with you and this worlds Natasha waiting for her

"Hi" you greet with such an achingly familiar smile, "We thought just meeting with us and getting settled would be less nerve wracking than meeting the team first thing"

"Thanks, I appreciate that"

"Of course. Tasha and I live on this floor, in this first room here" you tell her, pointing to the door, "Your room will be at the other end of the hall"

"But before we let you get settled, I wanted to talk to you about something" your girlfriend tells her

"Yeah, sure"

"Well, it's gonna be a bit too odd for both the team and especially myself if we both go by Natasha, and well, I was on this Earth first"

The other Nat chuckles softly, "That's fair enough. You mind if I keep it similar?"

"Like what?"

"I was thinking of going back to my, or our I suppose, roots" she says, "Going back to Natalia just seems right"

Natasha nods, "I haven't used it in decades, it doesn't bother me if that's what you want to go by"

"Right, well I think I'll go get settled now"

"Of course, when you're ready to meet everyone just knock on our door. We'll go with you" you tell her before she heads down the hall

As soon as she enters the space Natalia lets out a soft sigh. How could something be so familiar and yet so foreign. It was so similar to her old room back at her own tower, only it was devoid of any personality. But she could change that, she could start over here, make a new life.

She heads over to the pre-installed weapons rack, a staple of every room at the tower, and she places her Clints now on the lowest rack. She lets her fingers trail over the curve of the material for a moment as she remembers her best friend fondly. A few tears slide down her cheeks as memories of her best friend replay in her head.

After a few minutes of grieving she moves on to her next piece of equipment, the Red Guardian shield. She takes it off her back and places it above the bow. She traces the star on the center with her fingers before she moves onto her pistols and her batons, she places them on the rack then steps back.

The last thing she had from her world wasn't a weapon, it was something far more precious. Her old phone. It hadn't been charged or turned on in ages, and she didn't know if it even would charge. But she had the SD card, and on it were irreplaceable photos. Her team at parties or just hanging around the compound, Clint after he stole her phone to take silly selfies, pictures taken of her Y/n both alone and selfies together. She carefully places the phone and her knife in the bedside table drawer and closes it before looking around the room.

The closet was empty, so was the bookshelf and DVD rack. It felt so odd to start over, again. It reminded her of when she first joined Shield. Everything was new, and empty. Full of possibilities and yet it still didn't feel quite right. But that did eventually change for her then and she hopes that it'll change for her again now.

She had went to get Natasha and you to take her to meet the team, but now that she was in the elevator she could feel her nerves starting to kick in. She didn't want to make a fool of herself by breaking down upon seeing people that looked like the team she lost.

As she steps out of the elevator and into the common room shes surprised to see so many people. This team is much larger than her own had been, though there are still the familiar faces. Its a bittersweet feeling to see them all again while knowing they aren't truly the ones she lost

"Well well, if it isn't the double of our lovely red headed Russian"

"Hi Tony" she greets with an affectionate smile

"Ah so you know me" he says excitedly

She rolls her eyes, "Of course I do. And I know Clint, Thor, Bruce and Steve too. And of course, Sam"

"Steve?" Peggy asks with curiosity, "Was he…Captain America?"

"Of course. Is he not here?"

He smiles softly, "Wasn't in the cards for me. But that's okay"

"You're Peggy" Natalia says, the pieces clicking together, "Of course, you look like the picture he kept just with that added super soldier bulk"

"I am, and as for the rest of our team here we have Wanda brother Pietro, Peter, Matt, Bucky, and Clints protege Kate"

"It's a pleasure to meet you all"

As she begins to mingle with the team, starting conversations and learning things she can't help but notice that Natasha won't take her eyes off her. She seems to be watching her like a hawk. Due to distrust or unease, she wasn't sure, but it was obvious to her that Natasha was on edge around her. And she couldn't really blame her. If the roles were reversed she'd probably be very hesitant around a second version of herself suddenly appearing too. But it still stung a little, she was hoping that they could at least be friendly with each other, now she wasn't so sure it would work out that way. But, only time would tell.

Taglist: @olicity-boo @kassies-take @fayhar @youralphawolf72 @lizlil @sheneonromanoff  @naslt @traveler-at-heart @esposadejoyhuerta @liladoesfanfics @me-uglypretty @leesromanova @hcsblu @cheekysnake @athenaeloise

[marvelselfinserts]

Hi!!! Can I make a request? WandaNat x daughter f!readeer. Like Wanda and Nat have been trying to have kids (biological) it took them a long time until their baby arrived. Like finally their dream came true. Wanda is the loving mom and Nat is the one who can’t say no to their baby girl. Then write reader’s first day at daycare (Wanda doesn’t really want it to happen but Nat says they have to) but they’re both crying and anxious waiting the whole time. Even the reader doesn’t want to. (She’s really their moms baby so clingy like a Velcro kid) then when WandaNat thought they baby is ok coz she followed the teacher reader looks back but her moms are gone. And when the school is over reader is crying saying they left her and she’s cutely upset to her mom. So her moms treat her to ice cream (basically spoiling their baby girl to make her happy) and letting her sleep between them. Reader is their pride and joy. Thank youuu!!

Daycare

Mom!ScarletWidow & Fem!Child!Reader [A/N] This request is actually so cute, I can't 😭❤️ Hope you enjoy this one my lovely 😘 Apologies in advance if anything is inaccurate, I'm only familiar with the UK version of daycare and to be honest even my knowledge of that is patchy, I know more about Early Years funding than the actual running of a daycare/nursery 😂

Wanda’s eyes are already watery as she helps you get dressed into something comfortable that you can move in freely. It’s your first time going to daycare and Wanda had already cried last night and now she’s close to crying again this morning. Not that she’d ever allow herself to do that in front of you. “Look at you,” Wanda says fondly, swallowing back her tears. “My special grown-up girl.” “Yeah, I’m big now, a big girl and I’m going to daycare like a big kid!”

You jump around the room and Wanda grins at your enthusiasm, supposing she should be grateful that you’re taking this so well. Wanda had taken extended maternity leave for the past three years, spending every day looking after you, and this was your first time being away from her or Natasha for an extended period of time. You’re her special girl, her miracle, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous about leaving you in someone else’s care for the day.

Wanda and Natasha had been together for ten years before they realised they both wanted a child. Wanda had known for a while but didn’t want to push Natasha too much, knowing she found the concept of motherhood a difficult one. She’d been thrilled when Natasha had finally told her she was ready, that she wanted a child too. Initially Natasha had wanted to adopt, saying there were so many children looking for a loving home and Wanda had readily agreed, remembering her own difficult childhood of being orphaned young. They’d put forward an application only to be rejected – their careers were too dangerous and they were too high profile. Any child they adopted would be at risk. They’d tried to argue but had been shot down.

Still desperate to be Mothers’, they’d turned to a fertility clinic and Wanda had done everything they’d advised her to do. She’d even looked online for the best foods to eat and what to avoid if you want to fall pregnant. Despite how serious she’d taken it, years had gone by with failure after failure. It had taken a huge toll on their mental health, and Natasha had watched Wanda fall into despair. Natasha wanted to be a mother but she didn’t yearn for it the way that Wanda did. Natasha would be disappointed but would be able to live with that. If Wanda couldn’t have a child, she didn’t know what she would do.

“I can’t give up,” Wanda had sobbed one late night when they’d looked at yet another negative pregnancy test. “I want a child so bad.”

“I know love,” Natasha had said, running her fingers through Wanda’s hair, her head rested in her lap as she sobbed. “I hate seeing you like this though. We can’t go on forever, it’s breaking your heart.”

“One more try,” Wanda had begged. “Just one more, please. And then we can take a break.”

That one more try had resulted in you, their precious baby. As soon as Wanda found out she was pregnant she’d stepped back from her Avengers work, not taking any risks. You were precious cargo as far as she was concerned and she wasn’t going to let anything happen to the baby she’d been hoping and praying for. The moment you’d been born and had been placed in her arms, Wanda had wept tears of joy and relief. Natasha had cried too, pressing a kiss to your head and letting you hold her finger in your tiny hand. You were here, and you were everything that both of them had ever wanted. They could finally stop the fertility treatment and just focus on being your Moms’.

Natasha had returned to work when you were a year old whilst Wanda had decided not to go back to Avengers work until you’d started kindergarten, and even then she would be strict about what she was willing to do. Being away from you overnight was non-negotiable, it wasn’t going to happen. Wanda knew they needed her in the field but that paled in comparison to you. She was your Mom, and you needed her first and foremost. Wanda knew Natasha felt differently and she respected that. Plenty of parents worked whilst raising their children - it just wasn’t how Wanda wanted to do things.

“I think it’d be a good idea if Y/N started doing mornings or something at daycare,” Natasha had suggested one night when she and Wanda were getting ready for bed.

Wanda had whipped around in her seat, her eyes wide, “What? Why?”

Natasha had laughed at the expression on Wanda’s face, pressing a kiss to her wife’s cheek, “I think it’d be better if she got used to spending some time without us now before starting school. And she’s reached an age where she should start spending more time with other children.”

Wanda had looked away, knowing deep down that Natasha was right. You were a sociable child, always stopping to say hello to people in the street, always finding someone to play with when Wanda took you to the park. It would be nice for you to make real friends, friends that you got to spend regular time with, that you could have play dates with. So although it made Wanda anxious, she agreed they could put your name on some waiting lists for local daycares.

A small part of Wanda had hoped it would be a long time until a place become available but one daycare had immediate availability. They’d taken you for a look around and even Wanda couldn’t find anything wrong with it. There was a good staff to child ratio, the room was bright with plenty of toys, and you’d been happy to join in with the story time. They’d met the woman who would be your key worker and she’d been lovely, starting an instant rapport with you. Wanda knew it was the perfect daycare and they were lucky a place was available.

This morning she didn’t feel lucky though as you bounced around the room excitedly. Wanda suddenly scoops you up into her arms and presses kiss after kiss to your face, beaming when you giggle. “Mommy loves you so much.”

“Love you too Mommy!” You reply loudly, kissing her cheek in return.

“Let’s go find Mama and have some breakfast,” Wanda says positively, bouncing you in her arms. “And then we’ll go to daycare for your first day!”

It takes a while for the three of you to leave. You’re too excited to eat breakfast so Natasha has to keep coaxing you back to the table. After Wanda’s put your shoes on she decides she wants a photo and thus begins the photo shoot that always ensues. Photos of just you, photos of you with Natasha, photos of you with Wanda, photos of you with both of them, some with the phone propped on the bookshelf, some selfies. As their only child, both Natasha and Wanda love documenting absolutely every achievement or stage in your life.

You sing excitedly in the backseat the whole way to the daycare. Natasha smiles at you in the rear-view mirror whilst Wanda stares out the window, trying to hide her growing anxiety. It takes everything within Wanda not to burst into tears when they pull up outside the daycare, and she gets out the car quickly so that she can be the one to hold you as they carry you into the welcoming building.

Your key worker is waiting inside and had already told Natasha and Wanda to keep their goodbyes quick and brief so that you wouldn’t get too upset. Wanda sets you down on your feet and gives you a small smile, trying to ignore her tear-filled eyes, “Okay baby girl. Me and Mama are going to say goodbye now then we’ll both be back this afternoon to pick you up.”

Natasha had taken the day off work, partly to be here for you, but mostly to support Wanda who she knew would struggle with a morning all to herself for the first time in three years. Natasha kneels down next to Wanda and kisses your cheek, “Be a good girl, okay? We love you so much.”

“Wait…” You say quietly, your own eyes starting to water. “You’re… You’re not staying here with me?”

Wanda and Natasha exchange a glance, and Natasha gives you a reassuring smile, “No baby, daycare is just for kids. But you’re going to make friends and sing songs and listen to stories. It’s going to be really fun and me and Mommy will be back here at-”

Natasha is cut off by the sound of you bursting into noisy tears, and Wanda immediately pulls you into her arms, rubbing a reassuring hand up and down your back. Wanda feels awful for not explaining properly – had she not mentioned you’d be alone? Maybe she should’ve talked with you about it a bit more. She glances tearfully at Natasha and mumbles, “We can’t leave her here.”

Natasha’s own eyes are watering at how upset you are but she shakes her head, “It’s for her own good Wands. Of course she’s going to be upset but we can’t… We shouldn’t…”

Her voice is uncertain as she watches the way you cling to Wanda like a little Octopus. You’ve always been a little clingy, something Wanda secretly loved. Always wanting cuddles, reassurance, to be held, to be in either Natasha or Wanda’s lap. They’d both been naïve to think this separation would be easy.

Your key worker, Moira, comes over and kneels down, realising it’s going to be difficult for Natasha and Wanda to separate from you when you’re so distraught. “The first day is always the hardest,” She says kindly. “There are usually a lot of tears for the first couple of weeks until they get used to the routine.”

Natasha nods whilst Wanda keeps her arms around you protectively, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “What should we do?” Natasha eventually asks.

Moira gives her a reassuring smile then addresses you, “Hey Y/N. Do you want to come and pick out the book for morning story time? Since it’s your first day you get to pick.”

Your interest is slowly piqued and you look up from Wanda’s chest though your little hands still cling to her jacket. Wanda exchanges a tearful glance with Moira, seeing the angle she’s going for. “Yeah, you like a story, don’t you?” Wanda says in the most positive voice she can manage, her voice cracking slightly.

You look uncertainly at Moira then at Natasha who gives you an encouraging smile, “Go on Sweetheart. You can choose a book, it’s okay.”

Moira holds out her hand and you hesitantly let go of Wanda, taking Moira’s hand in your own. The key worker gives them both a reassuring smile and begins leading you into the daycare towards the bookshelf. Natasha stands up, her voice shaking, “We should go now while she’s distracted. If we stay longer it’s only going to upset her.”

Wanda hesitates, swallowing down the lump in her throat as she watches you walking away from her. It takes everything in her not to cross the room and lift you back up into your arms, and take you home where she can keep you safe. But she knows that everything Natasha has said about you going to daycare is right. You need to do this, need the independence and the socialising aspect. So although it breaks Wanda’s heart she stands up and lets Natasha lead her out of the daycare.

Just as they’ve left, you look back over your shoulder, your face crumpling when you realise Natasha and Wanda are gone. You’d thought they would stay for story time like they had at the taster session and you open your mouth and begin to scream as you realise they’re not there. Moira lifts you into her own arms to try and comfort you, and you cry loudly, calling desperately for your Moms’ and sobbing even more when they don’t come back for you.

Wanda spends all morning checking the daycare app for updates. About an hour after they dropped you off there’s an update to say that you enjoyed story time, along with a photo of you sitting with the other kids. You look a little overwhelmed but generally settled so Wanda relaxes. You have a snack, then a nap, and then do some painting. Natasha looks over Wanda’s shoulder to check the updates too and smiles, kissing her cheek, “See? She’s absolutely fine.”

Natasha would never admit it but she’d been worrying too, and had had a little cry of her own in the bathroom when they got home. She had to be strong for Wanda but it was hitting her harder than she’d initially thought too.

Wanda is relieved when it’s finally time to pick you up and she rushes into the daycare centre, holding her arms out when she spots you, “Y/N!”

You look over, immediately bursting into tears when you spot your Moms’. You run over into Wanda’s arms, throwing your arms around her neck. “Mommy, you left me all by myself!” You wail accusingly.

Wanda peppers your teary cheek in little kisses and then whispers, “I know baby, I’m sorry. You had a good day though, didn’t you?”

“I missed you!” You whine in the way only a little kid can manage.

Moira gives Natasha and Wanda a knowing smile, telling them quietly, “She was tearful for the first half-an-hour and then calmed down. We had a good morning and she had a nice time. It looks like she even made some friends. It’ll get easier as time goes on, I promise.”

Wanda nods, lifting you up into her arms. Although she’s glad that you had a good morning and you weren’t upset the entire time you were apart, she’s even gladder that you’re back in her arms where you belong. You pout as they carry you back out to the car, “You left me Mommy!”

“I did but I’ll always come back for you,” Wanda reassures you, kissing your cheek again as she straps you into your car seat. “You’re my special girl and I love you so much.”

“And so do I!” Natasha calls from the driver’s seat, starting the engine. “You were such a brave girl today, how’s about we go and get some ice cream to celebrate?”

You immediately perk up at the thought of ice cream, your betrayal immediately forgotten. Wanda also brightens as she sees the happy look on your face. Natasha drives to an ice-cream parlour that the three of you frequent regularly, and then she lifts you up so you can see all the flavours on display. You spend a long time choosing but neither of them rushes you, letting you have this as a special treat.

The rest of the day passes without incident but at bedtime, when Wanda closes the story she’d been reading you, you mumble worriedly, “Mommy? Do I have to go back to daycare tomorrow?”

“No,” Wanda says, running a hand over your head. “You’ll spend tomorrow with me. But the day after that you’ll go back to daycare for the morning.” Wanda feels her chest tighten at the worried look on your face, realising that this schedule might be confusing to you given how young you are. “You had fun, didn’t you?”

“Yes but I would rather stay at home with you.”

Wanda smiles, watching your little brow furrow as you try to process all the big emotions you felt today. “Tell you what,” Wanda says. “Why don’t you come and sleep in the big bed with me and Mama tonight?”

Your eyes light up and you nod without hesitation, unable to believe your luck at having two treats in one day. Wanda lifts you out of your bed and carries you through to the bedroom she shares with Natasha, shooting her wife a look when she laughs at her. “Y/N’s sleeping in here tonight,” Wanda says defensively, tucking you into their bed.

Natasha climbs in on your other side, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I didn’t say a word. I love cuddles with my little girl.”

Wanda strokes her fingers over your forehead, a relaxing gesture that she’s done for years, “There we go. Nice and warm in Mommy and Mama’s bed.”

Wanda feels herself relax as your eyes begin to closed, always feeling better when she has you nearby like this. This was the kind of night she used to only be able to dream about but now it’s reality, she has a beautiful little girl she can cuddle up with. Wanda’s so proud of the girl you’re becoming, and she wants you to be confident and carefree. She’ll do everything she can to help you with your transition into daycare – even if it’ll still kill her to leave you behind. Like she said, she’ll always come and collect you. Nothing would ever keep her from her precious girl.

[westwriteswhatever]

Choosing You (Masterlist)

WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Summary: For two years, you’ve been working two jobs just to afford rent and tuition after leaving home at eighteen. Finally, after surviving community college, you’re a junior in university. But with a mandatory internship required to graduate, you stumble into the corporate world of Romanoff-Maximoff Global, where you’re determined to keep your head down and struggle on your own, just as you have become accustomed to. How will Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff teach you how to choose yourself? 

Warnings/Tags: Financial struggles, past emotional/psychological abuse, slow burn, high-functioning anxiety, religious trauma, corporate/university setting, unsafe living environment, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, dom/sub, mommy kink

Chapters:

What is Success?

Fruit Snack

Polo

How Do You Explain That?

Smartie

Cotton

Fuzzy

AO3 Longer chapters (7.5k+ words) will only be posted on AO3 after chapter 3.

A/N: thank you to the readers who gave feedback on the first chapter. it gave me the push to commit to this series 🥰

[piinkdahliia]

Full On You

Pregnant!Wanda x Natasha x Fem!Reader  

MDNI 18+ 

Summary: With a gender reveal approaching, you’ve all been spending less time in bed together and more time prepping for both the baby’s arrival and the party. Natasha’s the first to suggest skipping dessert in hopes of watching Wanda fill you up in the one way that really matters.  

Warnings/Tags: pregnant wands, no use of Y/N, fluff, smut, bottom/sub reader, clueless reader x plotting wandanat, mommy wanda, daddy nat, kissing, groping, lactation kink, soft nipple play, couch sex, oral, fingering, inappropriate use of chaos magic, throat grabbing (no choking) 

Word Count: 3.25k 

Author Note: My face was so hot writing this. Hope this is up to your standards, anon! Sorry if I took too long. I have other little things I’m working on, plus my job😭. Also, my mother touched my laptop in the middle of me editing/writing this and I can’t tell if she read it or not, so I’ve been unraveling after that.... Anyways! We might be seeing some Francesca x Reader from me soon. My first time writing angst is coming up! 

Masterlist 

Wanda was lucky to be an enhanced individual. She knows that now.  

It was hard to be ignorant of all the advantages when she suffered truly little downsides of pregnancy. A low chant here, a flick of the hand there, and any pain she had was gone.  

Regardless, she felt the luckiest when it came to using her magic for you and Natasha. 

The way she’d conjure exquisite toys to use on either of you, the times she’d synch her peaks with you, all the nights she’d fill you both with enough energy for another round, every time she could feel how close to that edge you were and stop it with a single thought, she loved it all.  

If she had to guess, Natasha’s favorite night in bed was the very evening she gave her something real. A night she could spill into Wanda. The night that resulted in her, sitting like this, pregnant. 

But you, their good girl, always went starry-eyed at the sight of her full breasts. It was adorable the way your mouth would water for her, the softness that would set in on your features, a mind that broke at the thought of milking her dry, a mind that prepared itself to kneel and beg and enter a perfect state of compliance.  

She missed it.  

As of late, the three of you were rushing to get things done around the home. The nesting and anxiety took over at the sight of Wanda growing rounder. Along with the task of planning a gender reveal party, none of you could think about sex when long days of building furniture and toys, shopping for clothing, picking the right shade for the nursery, and finding the decorations for your theme had you all winded. The end of one project always spurred thoughts on the next.  

But now she wanted it. It took little convincing from Natasha to spell her breasts full of magic-induced milk. It was all for you. And the show was all for them.  

You hadn’t noticed the difference at first. Your brain endlessly filled with ideas of where to install Tony’s specially made baby monitor. You were sure the crib would change places about four more times before Wanda’s water broke, and maybe three after, so there had to be a spot in the room that could capture most, if not all, angles. The other would latch right onto the edges of the crib, but as a family with enemies, every corner had to be covered.  

Wanda and Natasha took note of the distracted look in your eyes as Modern Family played on. Your favorite episode was streaming, and yet you laughed at none of the jokes and lip-synched none of the lines. For Wanda, you were too far away from her. She needed you—badly.  

The added weight on her chest had her soaked. But every time she looked your way, she could tell your mind was on everything but the way her tits spilled out her tank top. She didn’t need her powers to understand that.  

Natasha herself was getting impatient. Her fingers twitched at the thought of stretching you out and pounding inside of Wanda. Her desire for both of you was a bottomless pit. And most of all, she wanted to watch you in her wife’s arms, getting high off Wanda’s magic infused milk, your tummy getting oh so full of her.  

The worst part was how clueless you were. They couldn’t even count the number of times they’d let their hands linger on your body for longer than necessary. You didn’t mind how lewd the kisses had become before dinner or their short and thin loungewear. There was so much that’d went over your head tonight.  

Wanda just had to remind herself that the reward of turning off your brain would taste so much sweeter after all the failed initiations of foreplay.  

Her tone was deceptively innocent as she started. “Baby, why don’t you come over here for us? Mommy wants you to hold her, could you do that for me?”  

Your head snapped over to Wanda instantly. A shy smile rushed onto your face at her words. You nodded silently and got up from the armchair, making your way closer to the two women across from you.  

Wanda sat up from her relaxed position, allowing you the space to settle down behind her. The two of you now lay cuddled up on the L-shaped sectional, your legs on the outside of hers, your hands situating themselves, naturally, over her pregnant belly. Natasha sat beside you two, her hand immediately landing on your thigh, a gentle thumb rubbing over the skin there.  

The three of you continued your watch quietly. Your palms started to circle Wanda’s stomach softly, and you lay a sweet kiss to the back of her head. Your mind quiets and you start engaging with the show, your lips moving alongside the characters and your laughs falling after one-liners you’d heard a thousand times before.  

The skin beneath Natasha’s hand heated up considerably with her working over the area. Her motions got slightly wider, and your mind got increasingly quieter. This was working for them. Your wives exchange a private look before Wanda makes the first move.   

The witch in front of you snatches up the hands on her lower belly and drags them further upward. Closer to where she wanted you. Though she hoped you’d get there on your own, she knew her little girl was a bit too dumb to understand she needed you now. Still, she’d give you time.  

Or at least until the next episode begins.  

You pecked at her shoulder and grabbed Natasha’s hand, holding it loosely, and unknowingly stopping her right before she started creeping closer to your core.  

So maybe she’d have to force a commercial break. Nothing she hasn’t done before.  

You groaned as an advertisement started to blare from the TV, the increased sound worked your nerves instantly as it fell on the best part of the episode.  

“‘Tasha, I thought we subscribed to the ‘No Ads’ version of this.” You whined out.  

“I’ll check on it tonight, detka.” She replied, already knowing the exact source of the issue sat comfortably in your arms.  

Wanda huffed in front of you. Her irritation spiked within half a second. Worried, you begin to ask a series of questions, all of them she shook her head to. She didn’t need a snack, she wasn’t cold, nor did she want a glass of water, you couldn’t figure out what she needed.  

“Feeling sore?” You guessed. 

Finally, she saw a way for this to work. “I think so, could you keep rubbing me sweetheart? Only, here.” She plopped your hands atop her chest, stealing one from Natasha’s grip, and sighed in relief.  

As soon as your hands started moving, the show resumed. You continued your ministrations mindlessly, and Natasha’s hand returned to your leg, only higher this time.  

Wanda’s head fell back onto your shoulder as you worked her up. Her legs crossed between yours inconspicuously, and she sighed, clenching her thighs together as the fire in her stomach grew. Natasha would be lying if she said she wasn’t jealous. How couldn’t she be envious of either of you? One fell into the trap of the other, holding her wife just the way she wanted, and the other laid, completely relaxed, into the delicate hands of their best girl.  

She needed to find a way to speed this up. But Wanda was already on it.  

She reveled in the way you pawed her. Your touch had the perfect pressure, it landed in all the right places, massaged her so carefully. And you did it all without knowing just how much she craved you. It turned her on knowing how oblivious you were.  

Her head grew lighter as your hands struggled to hold all of her. You didn’t even know how full she was for you. Her nipples perked up beneath the fabric. The sensation of the tank top, and the lack of a bra, brought her pleasure to new heights.  

You felt her top grow slightly damp as your fingers splayed across her chest and slid across the peaks of her breasts. “Wanda?”  

You squeezed the fabric beneath your fingers and subsequently, the most sensitive area of her bust. In that moment, Wanda wasn’t sure whether or not you were playing dumb.   

Her voice came out strained, carrying a trace of annoyance. “Did I tell you to stop?”  

“No...” You were cautious.  

Wanda’s head turned towards you, and you met her eyes. Your lips were dangerously close to hers from the position she’d taken on your shoulder.  

Natasha was the one to remind you first. “No, what?” Now you’d caught up to them.  

“No, mommy. You didn’t tell me to stop.”  

“There’s my good girl.” She kisses your jaw and your hands get back to moving. One slides under your witch’s tank, ready to play with her properly.  

“Our good girl.” Natasha whispers as she takes the other and drags it between her legs.  

The woman was turned towards the both of you now, on display, and aching for something to fill her. She pulled her shorts to the side, her cunt weeping, skin there flushed and waiting for you to so much as graze her. Her own fingers spread her folds apart, baring herself to you entirely. She holds herself open and watches with parted lips as you let your forefinger draw around the lips swollen from arousal.  

You never got tired of this. Your fingers pull harshly at the nipple between them. Wanda’s breath hitches near your ear. Both you and her stare, fully entranced, by Natasha. The pad of your finger brushes over her clit, and you’re sure you hear her swallow back a whimper.  

“Go ahead sweetheart, give daddy what she wants.” Wanda orders you.  

While your eyes had turned away from her, one of Wanda’s hands occupied the space beside yours. It tugged at her peaks, a small bit of the area damp from the milk that’d leaked out. Her breath became labored as she watched you enter Natasha.  

A groan fell from both their lips, one at the sight, the other at the feeling.  

“That’s it detka.” She bit her lip as she looked down, chest heaving as you thrust inside her at a steady pace.  

The obscene sounds coming from your fingers being drawn in had you hooked. You pushed deeper and tried to find a balance between the women in front of you. One hand tweaked a hardened nipple, you grazed over the very tips of them, letting the lightness of the motion push Wanda closer to orgasm. The other hand stretched Natasha out, fingers scissoring, curling, twisting.  

You drove them insane.  

Natasha’s hand, previously keeping her steady on the couch, jumps just above your own.  

“Fuck! Yes, malysh. Faster.” Natasha groaned from her spot next to you.  

Your fingers began to piston out of her, her own rubbing tight circles around her clit as the heat built up. You could feel her clench around you, and you grew wetter at the feeling her dragging you in, not wanting to let go.  

Despite the awkward angle, you sped up even more, eager to see her spill onto your hand. You wanted to hear her praise, to hear her telling you how you “got daddy off so well”. You needed it.  

Your palmed Wanda’s breast at the mere thought, your rougher actions making her throb. Her mouth opened wider, a breathless moan escaping as you played with her. Her other hand drew lightly across a pebbled nipple; she couldn’t wait to have your mouth wrapped around them. She twisted it between her fingers and gasped as she began to leak more. Your mouth watered once you felt the warmth of it on your skin.  

Wanda watched you salivate. Her eyes glowed with satisfaction as they flitted over your features. You were ready for her. It was that realization alone that pushed her over the edge. She came with a cry and her magic sparked about the room.  

Natasha followed soon after. With her own fingers pinching at her swollen clit, and your fingers plunging in and out of her, she’d completely fell apart. You slowed your pace, allowing her the space to come down slowly.  

Her shirt had risen above her navel. You stared as she breathed heavily, the sweat glistening, drops of it soaking into the band of her shorts.  

You had yet to take your hand away from her when Wanda spoke. “Let mommy have a taste, draga.”  

Gently, you pull your hand away from Natasha. She blows a quiet breath out as she gets used to the feeling of being empty again. You hold your fingers to Wanda's lips, and she takes them eagerly. Her tongue swirls over your fingers, separates them inside her mouth, sucks them thoroughly before letting them go with a pop.  

She gestures for Natasha, and she moves with swiftness, getting up and hovering over you to kiss Wanda. One hand on the arm rest to your side, keeping her upright, the other at the base of Wanda’s neck. Wanda presses her tongue into Nat’s mouth, and you find yourself uncomfortably aware of the fact that you haven’t come yet. You whine, feeling left out, wanting to taste her just as much.  

“Daddy, me too.” You tug at the bottom of her shirt.  

Natasha separates from her wife, a string of spit connecting the two of them together. Your eyes follow it until it breaks.  

“Want you and mommy.” Then you remember. “Please?”  

“Oh malyshka, you don’t know how long we’ve been waiting to hear you say those words.”  

Natasha sits back down, facing you once more, and leans in. You attempt to meet her halfway, limited by Wanda resting against your chest, and her face lingers centimeters from yours. You hated it when she teased you like this. She inches forward, brushing her lips against yours.  

“I—” 

Finally, she gives in, cutting you off, unable to deny you and your pleading eyes any longer. You sigh into her mouth and relax back into the couch, her hand wraps around your throat possessively. She gives a light squeeze there and you gasp. The kiss was short. You could barely grasp the flavor of her, but you hold onto the hints of a salty, slightly sweet, and heady taste of her essence. She nibbles on your bottom lip before backing off and speaking.  

“Mommy has something special for you tonight. Have you noticed yet?” The smile that stretched across her face was tantalizing.  

You nod, excited again by what else this night entailed.  

There was a shift in the atmosphere, the two of them now ready to take care of you the way they’ve been craving. The three of you shuffle, get yourself together, and head to the primary suite.  

You stand at the edge of the bed as they throw half the pillows to the ground and shed their clothes. You do the same, dropping them near the nightstand.  

“Come here, draga.”  

Wanda’s resting on her side, furthest away from you. She pats to the spot in the middle, gesturing for you to settle down. Natasha sits at the end of the bed, waiting for you to comply. You do so with ease.  

You lay on your back right beside Wanda. She narrows the space between you both 

“Natty’s gonna clean you right up, sweetheart. Then I’ll give you what we’ve all been waiting for, how does that sound?”   

You nod enthusiastically. “Good, mommy.”  

“Spread your legs for ‘Tasha. Yes, there we go.” She smooths your hair back and tucks it behind your ears.  

Natasha moves closer. She marks her way down your neck, scatters kisses across your clavicle, and down your abdomen, all before pausing where you needed her most. She doesn’t waste time teasing.  

You suck in a large breath as she dives in. Natasha thumbs at your clit and sucks puffy lips into her mouth. You tremble as she spreads you out further, tongue flicking rapidly over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips raise up off the bed. You’re not sure if they’re chasing her or pulling away.  

Wanda hushes you. “It’s okay draga, let daddy make you feel good.” 

Natasha wasn’t polite, she wasn’t neat either. She devoured you—sloppy. A combination of her saliva and your arousal covered her lips and chin. She continued, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked you in. Her tongue fucked into you at a brutal pace.  

You gasp out and nearly shoot up, but Wanda holds you down. She whispers words of praise, tells you to take it, that you should be grateful Natasha wasn’t making you beg for it.  

“Let go when you need to baby, we’re right here.” You were gushing for her before you even hit that peak, the comforter under you growing damp.  

Natasha slips two fingers into your wet heat, knowing how close you were to coming apart, wanting you to fall over that edge for her. Your moans increase as her rhythm gives you no time to take proper breaths. Still, you hold it in, your muscles tense up and your back arches as you feel the tension reach its breaking point. A hum over your swollen clit does you in, and you come undone. Your cunt clenches around her, fingers stilling as she helps you ride it out. But her jaw never stops working, lapping you up gently, avoiding overstimulation as you calm down. 

She cleans you up tenderly, placing a small kiss to your clit and thigh before she can bear to pull herself away. Truthfully, she wasn‘t done with you but decides on mercy for now, knowing the night wasn’t close to over. This was just a break in the program. She watches the way your lids start to fall shut, and a smug smile grows on her face. They were used to the exhaustion that came after they worked you up. They also knew it wouldn’t last more than an hour.  

They began to move quietly, pulling back covers to tuck you in under. They get you on your side and scoot you closer to Wanda’s chest, allowing you to latch onto her comfortably. It didn’t take long before you felt sweetness coat your tongue. You gulp it down greedily.  

Wanda always made it a special experience for you, using different enchantments to get you high, build your arousal, send you to sleep, or heighten your pleasure. Tonight’s milk was especially calming.  

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders as you suckled. Chasing a feeling of euphoria, you draw more of her into your mouth, letting the milk pool into it before gulping it down.  

You try to be careful, knowing how sensitive she’d be after earlier’s stimulation, but end up tugging on a nipple with your lips, pulling back with a smack. You squeeze around her and watch it leak, lapping it up before latching on again. You repeat the action, letting her watch as it dribbles into your mouth, tongue out and eyes soft. 

Natasha wraps an arm around your waist. “Slow down, detka. She’s not going anywhere.”  

She chuckles from behind you and you close your eyes, basking in the sound of Wanda’s pleased sighs and her wife’s amusement as you slip away into a state of bliss. 

[marvelselfinserts]

Here's another request imma try and make this short as possible😭... now I made another request about wandanat being moms but im trying to remember if I sent both in or one(lol i'll find out later on). Sooooo this will also be wandanat/Scarletwidow x daughter reader😀. where she has a twin brother and gets all the attention, praises, love, basically the center of her parents life. Reader isnt mad about it she understands even though she knows she's just as good as him? So she just accepts it, no arguments, no fights, nothing! She just takes being left out, always being an after thought, feeling like a shadow, feeling unwanted, and even while she's feeling all of this she's still has her spark, her happiness, herself(she looks on the positive side even when her life isnt so positive yk). And eventually when she's old enough to leave she does and doesnt say goodbye because who would care? Im feeling very angsty lately and i blame my classes for it😂so please dear author when you get the chance to write this mess, I can't wait!😌

Lesser

Mom!ScarletWidow & Fem!Teen!Reader [A/N] I had the worst nights sleep last night, felt so nauseas and kinda figured it would pass this morning but it didn't and I've felt a bit off all day but not sure why? It's so annoying 😭 Also @leenlynn you woke up and chose violence this year with some of your requests 😂 Hope you enjoy this one my lovely, hope you're doing okay 😘

It was your eighth birthday when you’d first realised. You’d woken up to the sounds of your Moms’ singing Happy Birthday, and their voices had floated into your twin brother’s room. You’d clambered out of bed to join them, and they’d included your name in the song but they’d both sat on your brother’s bed, either side of him whilst you’d sat cross-legged on the floor.

Your eyes were bright with excitement and anticipation. You’d been begging your Moms’ for a tamagotchi and a games console for the past month – you weren’t even fussy about which kind of console. Something handheld like a Nintendo DS, or maybe a PlayStation or an XBOX. You had a handful of games on the family computer that you and your twin brother would often play, but you wanted the opportunity to expand your gaming library. One of your friends at school had a PlayStation which you thought was the coolest thing ever but you’d have been happy with any of them.

Brandon always got to open his presents first and he’d been bellyaching for a skateboard which was the first thing he opened, shrieking with excitement. Your Moms’ eyes had lit up, and Wanda had taken photo after photo of him. Your hands had ran over your brightly wrapped presents, tired of waiting for your turn, but Brandon still had other gifts to open. He’d opened new sneakers, a football, action figures, books, and finally, a PlayStation. Your mouth had fallen open and your excitement had risen – if Brandon had got a games console, you must have one too!

Finally it was your turn and you’d beamed, ripping the paper from your presents, your face falling slightly as you stared at them all. Two new books, a Barbie, a wristwatch and a delicate necklace with your initial. No gaming console, no tamagotchi. You’d looked towards the PlayStation on Brandon’s bed, asking quietly, “Is… Is that for both of us?”

“No, it’s Brandon’s,” Natasha had said, surprised. “He’s the one with a TV in his room. Maybe he’ll let you play too if you ask nicely though.”

You’d looked between your presents and your brothers. He was too excited with his own gifts to look your way, to acknowledge your own lacklustre pile. It wasn’t like you minded reading but these books were bright with unicorns on the cover – your favourite series was about a kid detective, you liked mysteries and adventures. These were generic ‘girl books’, picked at random, nothing to do with your actual interests. You didn’t have much of a sense of monetary value but it was clear even to you that your Moms’ had spent double, maybe even triple on your brother than they had on you.

Wanda took another photo of Brandon and that was when you realised she hadn’t taken a photo of you, not once. Natasha’s attention had already turned from you back to Brandon, beaming at him and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Wanda wished him a Happy Birthday again and you watched, your bottom lip trembling and your eyes watering. Nobody noticed how upset you were.

“Why don’t we go for dinner at the Cheesecake Factory after school?” Wanda suggested.

Your brother had cheered; The Cheesecake Factory was his favourite whilst yours was Panda Express. There was no discussion of what to do or where to go, as if it wasn’t even your birthday too. For breakfast your Moms’ asked Brandon what he wanted for breakfast, but nobody asked you. It occurred to you then, that your Moms’ never asked you. Not just on your birthday but all year round. Your opinion was never considered, never even asked for. Brandon’s was, and you were expected to go with the flow.

That was the first time you’d truly realised that your Mom’s had a preference for your twin brother. But once you’d noticed, it was hard to stop seeing it every single day.

Over the years you realised that your brother’s achievements were celebrated, whilst yours were brushed over. If Brandon got an A, his test was displayed on the fridge, and Wanda would make her famous cookies, letting him have the first pick. If you got an A, Natasha would ruffle your hair and Wanda would say ‘well done’. When Brandon made the football team, your Moms’ had taken the two of you out for dinner at Texas Roadhouse, his new favourite place as his tastes changed. When a story you’d written had won a prize, you’d got the same ruffle of your hair and Wanda’s quiet ‘well done’.

It wasn’t just their reactions – they drove Brandon to football practice every Saturday, swimming on a Thursday, and guitar lessons on a Tuesday. You’d asked if you could learn the piano and had been told they’d ‘look into it’ only for lessons to never materialise. Sometimes you’d go downstairs and you’d find them all in the living room, having a ‘family movie night’ that you hadn’t been invited to. One time you’d even been left behind on a trip to Yellowstone and it had taken them an hour to return to collect you.

As you grew older your brother generally had more achievements than you. Brandon was the quarterback of the football team, achieved straight A’s, had a sensible girlfriend that your Moms’ loved. There was always something to celebrate.  You just about scraped passing grades, generally cruised for life laying low, flying under the radar.

What was the point in getting angry though? It wouldn’t change anything.

You’d tried to get your Moms’ attention after that disastrous eighth birthday. That night at the Cheesecake Factory you’d asked Natasha if you could have dinner at Panda Express the following evening, and she’d given you a look. “We’re out for dinner tonight for your birthday treat, we don’t need to go out again tomorrow. Don’t be so ungrateful.”

Once you’d gotten home, you’d picked up one of your new books and had shown Wanda. “Mom, will you read to me before I go to sleep?”

“You’re eight now Sweetheart,” Wanda had laughed, ruffling your hair. “I think you’re plenty old enough to read quietly by yourself before bed.”

You’d been so tired. After the Cheesecake Factory the four of you had gone to the local park so Brandon could try out his new skateboard. Your Moms’ had beamed and laughed while they watched him, taking even more photos. You’d found another girl to play with but it had been boring – you wanted to be at home, playing with the games console you’d been hoping to receive. If you’d been given a tamagotchi, you could’ve at least played with that while Brandon had messed around on his stupid skateboard.

What made your Moms’ lack of interest in you even harder was that you weren’t close to Brandon. Over the years Wanda had told you stories of how close she’d been to her own twin brother, the uncle that neither of you had gotten to meet. How they’d protected each other after their parents had died. In all media you’d seen with twins, they were the same – inseparable, making up their own secret languages, looking after each other.

It had been okay when you were really little. Brandon had been your playmate and the two of you had gotten up to adventures, played games at the family computer together, he’d let you sneak into his room for midnight feasts. But Brandon was outgoing and sociable whilst you were more reserved, and when he’d started school he’d gained a whole heap of friends whilst you hadn’t. He’d pulled away from you without a backwards glance.

Whenever your Moms’ had to go away for missions, Brandon would go and stay at a friend’s house, not contacting you at all, even when you messaged him to say you were worried about them, that you were terrified something was going to happen to them. When you’d been bullied at school, Brandon had looked the other way, pretending he didn’t even know you. At thirteen, you’d tried to tentatively bring up the difference in how the two of you were treated and he’d snapped at you. “Don’t be ridiculous. The Moms’ love us exactly the same. You’re always doing this, trying to be the centre of attention; it’s getting old Y/N.”

Your best friend, Cassie, often fumed about it, “Why wouldn’t you give him hell? Everything has always been about him and he has the nerve to say shit like that? Why wouldn’t you give him a piece of your mind?”

You’d shrugged your shoulders, “Why waste my energy? He’ll never agree and neither will my Moms’.”

Sometimes it was hard to remember that your Moms’ loved you. You supposed they must, even if they liked Brandon more, but the hardest part was realising that they didn’t know you at all. Your eighth birthday had been one example but at every turn, they proved that they didn’t know you very well. When you told them both that you were thinking of applying to do creative writing at college, Wanda had glanced at you. “I didn’t know you liked writing.”

“Well, yeah,” You’d said quietly. “I won that prize for that short story I wrote, remember?”

“You did?” Natasha asked. “That’s… Well done.”

You’d clenched and unclenched your fists, swallowing hard. “Anyway, I was gonna apply to California College of the Arts.”

Part of you had hoped there would be a discussion about how far that would be from home. How you could go if you wanted to but that they’d miss you, that you should call at least once a week, and that they’d make provisions for you to come back for the holidays. Natasha had carried on as if you hadn’t said anything whilst Wanda had simply asked, “Did you look into scholarships?”

“Yeah, I submitted some of my work to them. I’m just waiting to hear back.” Neither of your Moms’ replied and you swallowed hard again. “It’ll be weird. Being so far from home.”

“You’ve always been pretty independent,” Natasha said. “You’ll be absolutely fine.”

‘I had no choice but to be independent!’ You’d wanted to snap. But what would be the point? Life isn’t a movie, you’d realised a long time ago. There would never be a moment where they realised how badly they treated you compared to Brandon, would never be a moment where they gathered you into their arms and reassured you that they loved you just as much as him, that things would change from now. It just simply wasn’t going to happen.

“Besides, you can come whenever you want.” Wanda had said. That had lifted your spirits somewhat until she’d added, “If you can afford the airfare. You thinking of getting a part-time job while you study?”

“Yeah…” You mumbled. “Yeah, I guess so.”

When you’d received the confirmation of your scholarship, Natasha had ruffled her hair and Wanda had said that usual ‘well done’. Brandon got a party at the compound when the confirmation of his own placement at Columbia University came through.

You’d watched from the sidelines, feeling lonelier than ever when Tony had suddenly sidled up, handing you an envelope. “What’s this?”

“Congratulations on California. Consider this a going away gift.”

Your eyes had widened when you’d spotted the cheque inside the envelope. “Tony… I can’t accept this…”

“Of course you can. I’m your rich Uncle, I won’t miss it. You’ll need money at college for books and food and rent and well… I think golden boy over there will be getting far more financial help from home than you.”

You’d glanced over at Brandon and then at Tony, wondering how much he’d noticed over the years. For a moment you’d felt angry, annoyed that someone had noticed the difference between your treatment and hadn’t intervened, had never said anything to your mothers. Why was he telling you? Of course you’d noticed. None of the Avengers had ever really bothered with you; a lot of them often seemed surprised to find that Natasha and Wanda had a daughter, that your brother had a twin sister, even though all of them had met you multiple times. But then you’d seen the small smile on his face and the sad look in his eyes, and you’d realised that he felt bad. That this cheque was the peace offering – and you weren’t exactly in a position to turn it down.

“Thanks Tony,” You’d said quietly. “I appreciate it. Really.”

Your moving date finally arrives and you carry your boxes down to the front door. Brandon had moved out three nights ago and your Moms’ had made a big deal of making his favourite dinner, giving him a going away gift and spending time with him the night before. You hadn’t received any similar fanfare last night and you hadn’t expected to. You see Natasha in her Black Widow outfit in the kitchen and you pause, shifting the box in your arms. “Are you not coming with us?”

“What do you mean?” Natasha asks, clearly distracted.

“With me and Mom to move me in.”

“Wait, you seriously thought we were gonna drive you? Jesus Y/N, it’s two days just one way.”

You hesitate, the box feeling even heavier in your arms as you shift from one foot to the other. “Yeah but… I’m going to college.” There’s significance to that statement but Natasha just blinks at you. “I thought we’d make a road trip out of it, I could spend some time with you and Mom before I- I mean, you helped Brandon move in-”

“Y/N, come on, Brandon went local, it took less than a day to move him in.”

You feel your bottom lip begin to tremble and you bite it, willing yourself not to cry. “It’s just… You never asked me how I was getting there, so I guess I just assumed that-”

“You’re an adult now,” Natasha says, giving you a tired look. “You can’t rely on your Mommy’s to do everything for you forever. We thought you’d figured something out, maybe caught a ride with someone else who was moving from New York to California.”

You shake your head and mumble dejectedly, “No… No, I didn’t do that.”

“Well you’ll have to figure it out. I’ve got work to do and your Mom doesn’t have the time to drive you that far.”

Natasha presses a half-hearted kiss to your cheek as she leaves and you realise that you don’t even feel angry or disappointed. Not really. You’re not actually surprised that they’re not driving you to college. That Natasha might not see you now until Thanksgiving or maybe even Christmas, and that had been her goodbye. Wanda is upstairs but you know there’s no point in going up to ask her for a ride. Instead you take your phone out and text Tony, asking if you could have one more favour.

An hour later Happy appears outside, and it’s him who takes your boxes back and forth to the car. You wait in the hallway, glancing towards the staircase, not sure if you’re hoping that Wanda will come downstairs to wish you goodbye. Maybe you are hoping but you’re not expecting it, not really. There’s movement upstairs but she doesn’t make an appearance.

“I’ll wait in the car,” Happy says to you as he grabs your final box.

You hesitate, glancing towards the stairs one last time before shaking your head, “No need. We should probably get moving, it’s going to be a long drive.”

“I understand if you want to say goodbye, I’ll wait as long as you need-”

“I already did,” You lie. “I’m ready to go, seriously.”

As you climb into the car, you find that you don’t feel sad about not saying goodbye. The thought of not returning for Thanksgiving, Christmas, or any other holiday doesn’t fill you with dread. All you feel as Happy begins driving is a strange sense of calm and acceptance.

University will be different. You won’t be Brandon’s twin sister, the one stuck in his shadow, never getting to step into the spotlight. No one will ever even know you’re a twin. Finally, you’ll get to be yourself. As for your Moms- It’s hard not to stop the tears welling in your eyes as you remember the proud way they’d hugged Brandon when they’d left him at college. How they’d never looked at you with the bright, proud eyes that Brandon had grown to take for granted. How Wanda had stopped tucking you into bed not long after your tenth birthday but had continued to tuck Brandon in until he was twelve and had asked for to stop, and how you knew you wouldn’t have asked her to stop, not until the day you moved out. How you felt on your eighth birthday when you realised for the first time that your Moms’ might love you in their own way but they had never understood you, and had never cared about you the way they had Brandon.

It had taken all of your energy to tell yourself multiple times as a teenager that it wasn’t anything you’d done, or even anything that Brandon had done. He wasn’t any more special than you, not even if he had more achievements. Maybe you could’ve achieved higher results if your Moms’ had put a fraction of the effort they put into Brandon into you. If they’d let you learn piano, go to karate, join that young writers class, maybe you’d have more things to be proud of.

You turn slightly in your seat, spying the PlayStation 3 you’d managed to buy second-hand from your local flea market when you were fifteen, bought with money you’d saved from your paper route. If there was anything that you wanted in this life, you’d learnt ten years ago that you needed to get it yourself.

As you turn to face forward again, you think about your Moms’ again and wonder if they’ll even notice that you never intend to come home. That you’ll stay at college over every holiday and the moment you graduate, you’ll settle down anywhere, as long as it’s far away from New York and far away from the family who had never appreciated you. Would they even care? You’re not sure. But that’s not your problem anymore.

You’re not happy. But you’re not sad either. And that’s a start.

[summer2224]

Still

Natasha Romanoff G!P x Fem Reader

by summer2224

18+ Smut

smut 18+ G!P

An intimate morning with a certain redhead.

Written June 10-12th 2026

word count 2,454

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The morning comes in slow.

Light through the curtains, pale and thin, and the warmth at your back that has nothing to do with the blankets.

Natasha is still here.

You know before you're fully awake, the weight of her behind you, the steadiness of her breathing against the back of your neck, the arm draped over your waist like she put it there on purpose even in sleep. She probably did. You've learned that about her. Even unconscious, she holds on.

You don't move. You're not ready to be awake yet and neither, it seems, is she.

Then her fingers shift.

Just barely. A slow drag across your stomach, palm flat, like she's checking that you're real. You feel her inhale, deep and deliberate, and she presses her nose into your hair. Stays there.

“Detka.”

It's barely a sound. More breath than word, warm against the back of your head, and you don't know if she meant to say it or if it just came out of her. Either way it settles in your chest like something lit.

You still don't move.

Her hand moves again. Slower this time, like she's being careful, like she's trying not to wake you and also like she very much wants to. Her palm slides up your ribcage, thumb tracing the space between your ribs, and she exhales again when she reaches the curve of your breast. Doesn't push. Just rests there, covers you, and you feel the tension in her arm, held back. Deliberate.

She's awake.

You know she knows you're awake too.

Neither of you say anything.

Her lips touch the back of your neck, barely, just the press of them, warm and dry and slow, and the arm around your waist tightens. Not urgently. Just more. She tucks you closer and you go, shifting back into her, and that's when you feel it.

The low sound she makes against your neck.

You feel her against you, the press of her hips, the unmistakable weight of her, already hard and warm through the thin fabric between you. She doesn't grind forward. She just is, lets you feel it, and her hand finally moves, cups your breast properly and squeezes gentle enough to make your breath catch.

"Morning," she murmurs.

That's all. Two syllables, rough with sleep, lips still against your skin when she says it.

You shift back against her, not accidentally, and her grip tightens.

"Y/n."

The way she says your name, it's not a warning, not quite. It's something closer to a question, like she's asking permission even as her thumb drags across your nipple, slow and deliberate.

You don't answer with words. You press back again, more intentional this time, and you feel her exhale against the back of your neck, a shaky thing, barely controlled.

Her hand slides from your breast, down over the curve of your waist, fingers tracing the waistband of your sleep shorts. She pauses there, fingertips just barely slipping beneath the fabric, waiting.

You lift your hip, just slightly, just enough, that tiny movement is all she needs.

Her hand slips lower, palm flat against your stomach, then lower still, and you're already wet, have been since you first felt her hard against you.

She hums against your shoulder, a sound of low, satisfied appreciation as her fingers slide through your slickness. It’s a slow, teasing exploration, gathering your arousal before she presses a finger against your clit, just barely there.

Your breath hitches, hips canting back instinctively, seeking more friction, more contact.

"Good morning, baby," she whispers, voice thick with sleep and desire as you push back against her hardness. Her finger circles your clit gently before slipping lower, teasing at your entrance without pushing inside.

Your breath hitches, a broken little sound escaping you as you keep pushing back, grinding shamelessly against that hard, heated length behind you. You need her, the ache building low and sharp in your belly.

"Morning," you manage, the word barely a whisper, breathless and wrecked before the day has even begun.

Her finger slips inside you, slow and deliberate, and you arch back against her with a stuttered gasp. 

She groans softly against your neck, her hips rolling forward once, finally, letting you feel exactly how hard she is, her length pressing insistently against the curve of your ass.

"Nat," you breathe, and it comes out desperate, your hand reaching back to grip her thigh, fingers digging into warm skin and taut muscle.

She adds a second finger, stretching you open, and her thumb finds your clit again, slow, maddening circles that make your thighs tremble.

"Baby," she whispers hoarsely in your ear, hips rolling forward slowly, giving you that thick length pressed exactly where you need it. "I'm so hard for you." Her fingers pump steadily, curling just right inside you.

"I need you," she whispers, the words hot against your ear as she thrusts her fingers deeper.

You whimper, pressing back harder against her, meeting each stroke of her fingers with your own needy grind.

"Please," you manage, voice wrecked and trembling. Your hand reaches back again, gripping the base of her where she's pressed tight against you, guiding her forward hungrily.

She hisses through her teeth at the touch of your hand, fingers curling tighter inside you in response. Her hips rock forward into your grip, urgent now, losing that maddening restraint she'd been holding onto.

You angle your hips, guiding her toward where you need her most, slick and ready and aching.

Her fingers slip out of you, leaving you empty and wanting for one aching second before she's hooking her thumbs into your waistband, tugging your underwear down your thighs with a slow, deliberate drag.

“Lift,” she murmurs, and you do, raising your hips so she can pull the fabric down, off, tossing them somewhere behind you both.

She positions herself, her hard, heated length pressing insistently against the curve of your ass. She's warm, so warm, her skin flushing against yours as she rocks forward slow, teasing the head of her cock against your entrance.

"Baby," she whispers hoarsely against your shoulder.

You arch back against her, reaching one hand back to grip her hip, urging her forward. Your other hand presses flat against the bed, knuckles white as you steady yourself on your side, presenting yourself to her. 

"Babe," you breathe, the word trembling with want and need.

She groans low in her throat, feeling your urgency and responding with her own. She's slow, so slow, teasing the head of her cock against your entrance before she presses in just a little, testing your readiness.

"I'm so big for you baby," she murmurs against your shoulder.

You bite your lip, nodding frantically against the pillow. She's huge, and you love it, you crave that feeling of being stretched wide open by her. 

"Please," you whimper, arching your back deeper, trying to take more of her in this side position.

She pushes forward, inch by devastating inch, her hand gripping your hip to hold you steady as she fills you. The angle is different like this, intimate, close, her chest pressed warm against your back as she sinks deeper.

You both moan when she's fully seated inside you, her hips flush against your ass, her breath ragged against your shoulder.

"Feel so good," she breathes, lips brushing the sensitive skin below your ear. She doesn't move yet, just lets you feel the full, thick length of her, lets your body adjust around her.

Her hand slides from your hip to your stomach, palm flat and warm, holding you close as she draws back almost all the way, then snaps her hips forward.

The new angle hits you perfectly, her thick length dragging along your inner walls just right, and you moan out softly, gripping the sheets. 

"Right there," you gasp, pushing your ass back to meet her next thrust.

A pleased, satisfied noise escapes her at your response, and she picks up the pace, finding a steady, deep rhythm that makes the bed frame creak. Her hand on your stomach spreads out possessive, spread fingered, protective as she pulls back to thrust deep again.

The room fills with your moans and skin on skin. 

Natasha's deep, rhythmic thrusting pushing you forward each time, only to pull you back again with her grip on your stomach. The position keeps her pressed tightly against you, almost spooning from behind.

"So tight," she whispers hoarsely.

You can feel her leaking inside you already, thick, warm, slick precum coating your inner walls, making the glide of her easier, wetter. 

Her cock is impossibly hard, the thick length of her stretching you wide with every thrust, the ridged veins along her shaft dragging against your sensitive walls.

You bite your lip and whimper softly, pushing your ass back to meet each of her deep, possessive thrusts. 

"Only for you," you gasp out, your inner muscles clamping tightly around her length as she withdraws almost all the way before slamming back home.

Those words hit something in her, a spark behind those green eyes you can't see but can feel in the way her grip tightens, the way her hips snap forward harder, deeper.

She rolls her hips, grinding against that spot inside you that makes you see stars and moan against your pillow.

"Mine," she groans against your neck, teeth grazing your skin. "All mine."

The possessive words make your core clench around her, and you can feel her thickness jump inside you, more hot precum leaking out to mix with your own slick. 

She's so big, filling you up completely in this position, hitting places you didn't know could feel this good.

She sifts slightly, changing the angle, and hits that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back. “Right there,” you whimper, reaching back to grip her hip, urging her on. “You’re so deep.”

Her cock slides out slowly, inch by thick inch, glistening with your combined arousal in the morning light. You feel every ridge, every vein draping along your tight walls, leaving you achingly empty for one breathless moment before sliding back in hard. “Oh fuck,” she moans, voice rough and wrecked against your shoulder. 

You moan out as she fills you again, that thick head hitting deep, so deep in this position. Your bodies are pressed close, her chest warm against your back, her hips flush against your ass with every thrust. The wet obscene sound of her sliding in and out fills the room, slick and hot and filthy. “Yes,” you moan, fingers twisting in the sheets. 

She picks up the speed, her thrusts losing rhythm now, just raw need, dragging that thick cock through your dripping walls, over and over. You can feel the way she leaks more inside you with every desperate plunge. “Shit—” she grunts, biting down on your shoulder. 

You arch your back, pushing your ass further taking her deeper. She hits that spot again, leaving you a moaning whimpering mess. 

You’re so we that you can feel her leaking out of you, dripping down your legs. 

“Harder,” you beg.

Without warning, she pushes flat onto your stomach, her weight pinning you to the mattress as she follows you down, covering your body completely. Her hands find yours, fingers lacing together above your head as she traps you beneath her. 

Her control snaps completely. Her thrusts turn wild uncontrolled, her thick cock hammering into you. She buries her face in your neck teeth and lips everything as she fucks you sensless from behind. 

You’re trapped beneath her, pinned, claimed, utterly at her mercy as she takes what she needs. Her eyes flutter close, then roll back a groan tearing from her throat she loses herself in the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around her aching cock. 

Your thighs are shaking, and you’re so close, way too close, especially with her weight pressing you into the mattress, her thick length thrusting into you from this angle. 

“I’m gonna—” you gasp, your voice coming out desperate and wrecked. “Oh fuck, Natasha I’m gonna come–”

She doesn’t slow down, groaning against your neck as she feels your walls starting to tighten and clench around her. 

“Come for me,” she demands, her voice ragged and needy. “Come on my cock, baby.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Your back arches, nails dragging into her hands as you scream into the pillow. Your orgasm crashes over you in a wave so intense you vision whites out, your body jerking beneath her, your pussy clamping down hard on her thick cock as you flood around her. 

She groans, deep, desperate, as she feels you come undone.

Her eyes snap shut as your orgasm triggers her own. With a final deep thrust, she buries herself inside you and releases, hot thick cum flooding your already dripping pussy. She keeps thrusting through it, slow, shallow strokes as she empties herself completely inside you. 

Her forehead drops to your shoulder blade, breathing labored and unsteady as she finishes coming inside you. Her hands slide from gripping yours to brushing lazy strokes against your knuckles. The thick base of her cock remains firmly seated inside you, her still hard length leaks more cum with each pulse.

Eventually, she slowly pulls out, her thick length sliding out with a wet, obscene sound. As soon as the head pops free, her heavy load immediately follows, a thick, white trickle of her cum leaking steadily out of your pussy and dripping down on your inner thighs. 

She watches with a satisfied groan as more of her cum drips out, making a sticky mess on the sheets beneath you. She gently pushes your tights apart more, getting a better view of how thoroughly she filled you up.

She presses a thumb gently to your messy entrance pushing some of her cum back inside, completely obsessed with the sight. 

“My girl,” she whispers, kissing your spine. “Good morning.”

A lazy, satisfied smile curves your lips as you stretch beneath her, feeling deliciously sore and utterly claimed. You hum softly at her touch, at the feeling of her pushing her release back inside you.

"Mmm," you murmur, voice still shaky from your intense orgasm. You turn your head just enough to catch her eye, cheeks flushed. "Good morning to you too."

You reach back lazily, fingers finding her cheek, pulling her down into a soft and tender kiss, contrasting the roughness of moments ago.

"Love you," you whisper against her lips, feeling completely content and thoroughly claimed.

“Love you too,” she smiles, that rare and soft thing just for you, and settles beside you, pulling you close against her chest.

[piinkdahliia]

Just Relax

WandaNat x Pregnant!Fem!Reader  

MDNI 18+ 

Summary: Ever since finding out you were pregnant, your wives have been attentive and soft in a way you’ve never seen before. Tonight, they help take special care of you in the bath.  

Warnings/Tags: domestic wanda and nat, no use of Y/N, they really love petnames, wanda speaks romanian, fluff, smut, bathtub sex, soft sex, bottom/sub reader, implied top/dom wanda and switch nat, kissing, groping, orgasm from nipple stimulation, i kinda robbed yall of the bedroom action sorry 

Word Count: 4.45k 

A/N: Let’s pretend poly-marriages exist for a second, okay? Also, this lowkey came out later than I wanted it to but I got a little caught up on Love Island twitter icl. Plus, apparently idk how to stfu so this got longer than I expected it to, especially for my first time writing something explicit.  

Masterlist 

Ever since Wanda and Natasha forced you onto maternity leave, you’ve had a sickening amount of time to yourself. Instead of taking your place beside them at the company, you stayed at home meal prepping their lunches, cleaning, and making dinner.  

Everything you once found fun or relaxing became boring after the first month. Especially after the two of them started meal prepping for you instead, getting a firm handle on both your dietary restrictions and fleeting cravings. Next was Wanda starting to insist more on going out for dinner. Then it was Natasha hiring private cleaning services.  

Rather than there being time between tasks, there was just time. There was nothing to do. So, you decided to fill that space in another way.  

Shopping.  

You figured it was the one activity they couldn’t stop you from doing if it was all for the baby and you—mostly you at this stage. You were prepared to endure nagging when you checked the time and noticed you’d be getting home later than your wives.  

Part of you was expecting a suggestion to do online shopping instead, hire a personal shopper who had your measurements down pat, or let them pick everything up before coming home to you. Wanda sure did love dressing you.  

Instead, you came home to a kind of quiet that left you skeptical of their intentions. Not quiet in the way there was no chatter, just quiet in the way there was no fuss or sweet words steering you towards the “right” choices.  

It was shocking. 

Earlier this week, Natasha was stressed out of her mind when you joined her on your usual run about the park. You figured, if you couldn’t join them at the office, might as well enjoy the ritual before work. Not only did she jog half the usual pace, she cut the route short altogether. She turned back home a mile in.  

None of your cursing changed her mind. You both cleared this routine with your doctor weeks ago, but Natasha would always turn around the second your breathing lost its usual rhythm. 

You’ve been making her walk the mile with you since. And though she thinks you’re not aware, you hear her visit the home gym forty-five minutes before your alarm goes off every morning.  

You know she’s using the treadmill.  

Upon walking in, you found Natasha rushing across the foyer to meet you at the door. Before your bags could touch the ground, there was a kiss upon your cheek and fists around the handles of your totes.  

“Go sit in the mudroom. I’ll put these in the living room. Wanda wants a haul after dinner malysh.” From the aroma alone, you could nearly taste the steak at the entryway.  

“Of course she does.” You sighed out.  

That was another thing. You weren’t allowed to take your own shoes off anymore. You grunted while bent over, three weeks ago, and the two of them had taken it with the utmost seriousness. It was almost terrifying how adamant they were about tying your shoes.  

Eventually you learned to stick with sandals for most of your outings. Thinking you’d be home before them, but knowing how much you’d be on your feet, you chose your favorite sneakers today.  

Leave it to Natasha to assess you from head to toe in a heartbeat.   

Your redhead was back within seconds, eager to attend to you. Her adoring eyes fell over you again as she reached towards you to smooth out your hair. She rubbed and brushed gently over your head before bending down for a real kiss.  

Natasha’s palm rested over your ear as she pressed her lips onto yours. It was tender. And while all you tasted was home, all she got was a hint that you’d indulged in mall food before getting back.  

You pulled away, decided you weren't finished, and leaned back in to peck at her lips. “You’re ruining my appetite.” Natasha smirked and caught your bottom lip between hers, sucking it softly. The two of you fell back into an easy rhythm. You wanted to deepen it, open wider for her, hoping to slide your tongue in her mouth. But before you could go for it, she was drawing away from you.  

“I think those cinnamon pretzel bites already did the job, malyshka.” You pouted at her, annoyed by how easily she figured it out even after you took care of washing the treat down on the drive home.  

“I only had like five Natty.” You rolled your eyes, making a more than obvious effort to lose eye contact.  

You could see the way she raised her eyebrows at you before kneeling. “Right.” You faced her again, following her movements as she rolled up your pants' leg.  

“I did.” 

“Tell that to Wanda.” You were quiet for a moment as she started to undo your shoelaces.  

“You think I can brush my teeth before we get to the kitchen?” There was a fifty percent chance she’d kiss you before dinner and find out the same way Natasha did, but you were hoping that a chaste peck and chatting her up could distract her enough later.  

“Baby, your receipt’s in the Rosie’s Boutique bag.” She slid your right sneaker off.  

“Maybe I could trash it then?” You wondered.  

Natasha pats your calf before getting up to store your shoes away. “I’ll throw it out in my office. It’ll be our secret.”  

You kicked your leg out and rubbed your feet up and down her leg, slightly dragging her sweats with the movement, giggling as you spoke. “Mm, you’re so good to me.” She shakes her head, amused by your actions, as she closes the mudroom cabinet.  

You bit your lip at the sight of your slightly swollen ankles, hoping Natasha wouldn’t say anything to you about them, or worse, to Wanda.  

She’s back on her knees again, and you watch as she lightly massages them. Unbothered by the dampness, she brushed her thumbs over the indents your socks had pressed into your skin. She slid your house shoes from underneath the seat and slipped them onto your feet with a breath of finality.  

Natasha pulls you from the bench and back through the formal entry way, ready to make good on her promise to you. She leaves you standing in the hall as she runs to snatch up the evidence. She returns with a small smile on her face, waving the receipt at you, then slipping it in her pocket. 

“Keep her company while I wrap up this email for Maria. I’ll be right down.” Natasha kisses your forehead.  

A hum vibrates in your throat, and you turn to leave, but not before pinching her ass and rushing away; ultimately, fearing her retaliation. “You better be.”  

A couple turns later and you’re greeted with the homely sight of your lover hovering over the island stove, two pans on the eye and a cutting board nearby. Seeing her in the kitchen always gave you a rush of warmth, loving how she seemed so at peace in the space. Every time you saw her standing there, it brought you back to the first time she saw the kitchen after the rebuild. Even as her wife, you’re not sure you ever saw her look more in love.  

Your arms wrap around her midsection with swiftness. You stand somewhat to the side of her, knowing this was as close as you could get to her with your bump growing larger by the day.  

“Hi draga mea, we missed you today,” she turns and pecks your lips “talk to me while I finish with the asparagus, will you?” You hummed and found a stool nearby, ready to tell her all about the deals you got on items for the nursery and how your new earrings match perfectly with your anniversary bracelet from them.  

Wanting to give you something to do, your wife tasks you with pouring water for each of you. Usually, on a night like this, wine was the go-to. But with your predicament, it’d be a few more months before you could enjoy alcohol again.  

Soon, Natasha was joining both of you and plating dinner for everyone. The food was steaming. Wanda carries her own plate, and yours, to the dining table while Nat sets her meal down, pulls out your seat, and grabs cutlery from the kitchen.  

Your plates weren’t full for long. 

A bowl of ice cream, two cookies, a chopped-up cucumber drenched in sriracha and sesame oil (courtesy of the Russian who insists you stay away from knives), a cup of tea, and two sad Disney movies later you were sat waiting on your ottoman as one of your wives drew the bath and the other handled dishes. 

You rested against the foot of the bed, hand rubbing over your belly as you fought to keep your eyes open. Eating so much had worn you out, and now sleep was calling your name. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to get up again without Natasha’s help.  

“Oh god, I’m stuffed.” You whine out.  

Your wife walks in the room, drying her hands with a small towel. There’s no doubt she’d already tested the water for you. “Honestly, I’d be scared if you weren’t.” You grunted at her words and closed your eyes.  

“Don’t fall asleep on me, it’s almost ready.” She laughs. “Do you want the Chamomile or the Lavender, krasotka?”  

You had no energy to choose.  

“Could you decide? I want you in there with me.” That was all you knew.  

“We’ll do a blend tonight.” You nod and watch her disappear into the on suite once more.  

Soon she’s reentering the bedroom and dragging you to the bathtub.  

Natasha helps you undress quietly. It’s a ritual you wouldn’t give up for the world. You rest your hands on her shoulders as she helps you step out of your pants and underwear, grateful for all the ways she provides you with stability.  

She proceeds to remove her clothing as you wait beside her, watching with, now, awake eyes. They trail over her form, taking in the scars of childhood, her curves, the freckles littered across her skin, and the goosebumps from standing bare.  

She helps you into the water, one hand holding tightly onto your arm and the other supporting your back as you sit inside. Natasha joins you in no time. She settles in behind you, arms sitting loosely around your sides, legs encapsulating your own.  

The two of you sit skin-to-skin, enjoying the dimly lit bathroom, evenly heated water, and a kind of serenity enhanced by the perfectly measured essential oils.  

“I’m so happy Wanda decided on the heated tub during the remodel. I think this is my favorite part of the night.” Natasha was silent behind you. You giggle before turning to look back at her; her eyes closed as her head lay against the edge of the bath. She’d tell you she wasn’t sleeping if you asked, “just resting” instead.   

“I’m starting to think you drawing a bath every night is definitely more for you than it is for me.” You pinch her lower thigh, drawing a performative hiss from your wife.  

“So what? Now it’s criminal for me to need to hold my girl after a long day at work?” She kisses the side of your head.  

You deadpan. “We cuddle almost every night, Natasha.”  

“We don’t cuddle naked every night.” Her tone was full of grievance, as though it was criminal you weren’t always nude for her past 7pm.  

“Just about.” There was no more giggling, just loud, unrestrained, laughter after you said those words. 

You feel her chest jump against your back as she begins to laugh along with you. Then, it was quiet for a moment.  

“I miss you when you’re at work—both of you. I miss being at work. I thought I’d enjoy leave, but there’s way too much nothing to do.” Natasha chuckles at that.  

“We don’t want you stressed—we talked about this.” Wanda spoke from the doorway. She pads over to both of you and settles on the rug adjacent to the tub.  

You turn to look at her, not having heard her enter the bedroom. “I know, trust me, I do. But I just feel useless. I miss doing something as simple as bringing files to your office, in heels, or cleaning the bathroom on weekends.”  

“Celine does look good on you.” You flicked water on Wanda’s face and pouted.  

“I’m being serious. You guys don’t even let me carry groceries in from the garage anymore.”  

“Malyshka, you are not useless. You are creating life. You deserve this. We want to take care of you. We need to take care of you.” You feel Natasha’s hands splay out atop your own and across your stomach, your bump looking especially precious to her in that moment. Wanda’s hands join yours there; the three of you interconnected in a single moment.  

“I think, in a way, we feel on the outside of things. You’re carrying twins for us. Your body is changing every day and the least we can do for you is give you peace of mind. So no, we don’t want you handling harsh chemicals, no we don’t want your feet swollen into designer heels for nine hours a day, and no we don’t need you hauling bags into the house. You are the one doing all the heavy lifting between us. And you may not see it that way, or acknowledge it, but we do. And we admire you for it.”  

Natasha’s fingers lace with yours, creating a ripple effect. You all squeeze each other’s hands tightly. “We love you for it.”  

Wanda nods in agreement and speaks. 

“We do. It’s not that we see you as fragile or incapable now. We see you as stronger than ever. Doing what we do for you gives us a chance to match that strength.”  

“We want this journey to be as safe for you as possible. We’d do anything to make sure you and the girls come out of this healthy.” Natasha peppers kisses along your right shoulder while Wanda brings your intertwined hands out of the water and presses her lips long and hard against the back of your palm.  

“I understand. I appreciate both of you...I just miss my old routine.” 

“And you’ll get back to some version of it, we promise. But for now, we just want you to relax. And while Natasha and I are beyond excited to see the twins, once they come, none of us will be able to enjoy our usual lifestyle. So much is going to change, my love. Let’s enjoy the slow period while we can.” Your lip quirks up at that.  

The way the two of them always manage to speak to you so gently made you swoon. No matter how irritated you were with the slower routine, at the end of the day, it was always these two taking care of you.  

Every annoyance was washed away by their patient explanations and getting you to see their perspective of things. While it didn’t dissolve all you felt, watching your old life slip from your grasp, you were content to be reminded that this wasn’t forever.  

“Let us take care of you.”  

You expect to find warm affection in Wanda’s eyes, and you do, but along with it is a look you know all too well. “I feel like that means something really different right now.” You whisper.  

“Maybe.” Natasha mumbles against your skin.  

You knew they’d be plotting something at some point this evening.  

“You want it to?” An eager nod answers her question. In a split second, Wanda is on her knees and pulling your face close to hers. Her thumb brushes across your helix before coming to a rest right below your jaw. She feels the way it works as you open up for her.  

There’s no hesitation, only heat. Her tongue pushes into your mouth, eager to wrap around your own. To drag the tip of it across the roof of your mouth and feel you shiver—like you always do. It was intoxicating, to be dragged into this space by her, by either of them, and to sit in a haze as they have their way with you.  

The pregnancy only made you more submissive, if possible, and they relished your obedience and surrender. But the best part was how sensitive you became under their care. 

Natasha squeezes your hip and you moan into Wanda’s mouth. You’d never been as vocal as you were now, and the two of them loved to grip onto you wherever they could—waiting to hear the way you responded to their teasing touches.  

Both women wasted no time getting you on your knees. You face Wanda entirely, Natasha holding you up from behind, making sure you don’t slip and keeping your legs open for the two of them. She’s careful not to push her weight into you, keeping your belly from pressing hard against the wall of the tub.  

Still, you start to feel annoyed at the barrier between you and Wanda, the tub’s edge and how, not, naked she was. Before you could whine about it, her hands were rushing up the front of your body, fervently seeking a place to rest.  

One hand drags down from your head to your hip, the other going to wrap around one of your breasts. You choke back a whimper as she pulls at a nipple, rolling it between her forefinger and her thumb.  

“I bet we could make you fall apart for us just like this draga. Won’t even have to touch that little cunt of yours.” Your heart jumps, and the building ache between your thighs become unbearable at the very thought of climaxing without either of their fingers inside you.  

Your mouth falls open, unable to properly respond. Only her name comes out. “Wands...”  

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You nodded bashfully.  

“Oh sweetheart, we’ve taught you better than that. Haven’t we, Natalia?”  

Natasha’s touch was softer, not lacking passion, just slower, not hesitant, only intent. Her mouth sucked at the skin right under your ear, one of the spots that’d make you fall into her, just right, when she wanted to see you unravel. She was completely caught up in you, her ears only perking at the sounds of your breathless moans and pants, her body entirely attuned to the way you squirmed between them.  

“Don’t tell me you need to be retrained too. Both of you, I want to hear you.” Natasha raises her head, partially dazed by the heat of the moment. Her skin flushed further at being called out.  

A synchronized yes answers her.  

You turned away from Wanda to look at Natasha. Your wife whose hands fell just under where you craved her and just above where you needed her.  

Out the corner of your eye, you see Wanda begin to pull away. She ties her hair up quickly before getting her hands back on you. Your breath hitches as she dips her head lower and lower. Going from soft kisses and suckling across your sternum to having her teeth scratch lightly against the peaks of your breasts. Natasha watches your chest rise and fall and the way Wanda flicked her tongue over you then drew in as much as she could fill her mouth with.  

“Need you too. Please ‘Tasha.” Your hips rocked into her front.  

“You up for the challenge, detka?” Instead of speaking, you take one of Natasha’s hands, bringing it to brush against the nipple Wanda had yet to touch.  

It was enough of an answer for her.  

Your head falls back onto her shoulder as she starts to massage you gingerly, knowing the softness of it all would keep you right where she wanted. Her hand was full of you.  

As Natasha switches between thumbing over your nipple and letting the pads of her fingers circle them, Wanda’s letting her nails skim over your spit covered tit, drawing back whenever your moans heighten in pitch, then nipping at them when Natasha holds both steady for her.  

The two work in tandem. Wanda swirling her tongue around the tips while Natasha restrained herself from manhandling the flesh between her fingers. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, tingles spread from the bottom of your spine to the base of your neck, and you attempted to push yourself further into Wanda’s mouth. 

You tried to cover your moans, but your wife was quick enough to restrain you. Your wrist was brought back down to your side.  

“Uh-uh, we wanna hear all your pretty sounds.” Natasha’s voice was deep and full of warning, only adding to the buildup.  

The noises you wanted to mask came spilling out as Wanda dragged her tongue heavily across your chest. They came out messy, long, and your breathing turned erratic. Your gut tightened and your back arched as she worked you. The heated water beneath you had you glistening with sweat. Instead of your muscles being relaxed by an evening soak, they were now drawn taut by the effort of keeping up with the women embracing you.  

“Look at what she’s doing to you, malysh.” Natasha commanded. “Already got you on that edge, huh?”  

“Please I—Fuck!”  

You could barely hold eye contact with her. Those deep green eyes that glinted, almost sinisterly, when she had you on the precipice. When she knew she could take it all away from you. You could only pray she wouldn’t.  

“Faster. Wanda. Need it.” She hummed over your skin. Any other night, she’d never take a demand from you. She expected pretty pleas at all times, play or not, she gave you what she wanted you to have.  

Natasha went from looking over your shoulder, admiring your wife on her knees, a sight she doesn't get often, to leaving hickeys up and down the span of your neck. You hissed when she bit down, moaned when her heated tongue smoothed over the mark, smiled when she kissed you and whispered in your ear.  

“So perfect for us. The sooner you cum, the faster I clean up your little mess down here, krasotka.” She palms your ass, spreading your cheeks, exposing you, and letting the air graze against your most sensitive area.  

You were dripping by now, aching for either of them to slide a finger between your folds, over your clit, to dance around your opening, all before stretching you open. You could feel the way your arousal trickled down your thighs, not taking long before it dribbled into the fragrant water below.  

Natasha sucks your earlobe into her mouth, teeth grazing it, as Wanda’s tongue swirls around your areola, and you cry out for the both of them in a single breath.  

You clenched around nothing, feeling a pleasant wave of warmth wash over you from your chest to your core. The feeling was euphoric; you had only ever come once from nipple stimulation alone. Natasha and Wanda have been vying to get you there since.  

The night it happened led to their longest session with you. The state you entered following that wave of ecstasy was the highest they’d ever brought you to. It was addictive to watch as your eyes glaze over, to have you cling to them, to hear the most unrestrained sounds fall out of your mouth as they fucked you.  

Your hands clutch Wanda’s shoulders as she laps over your nipples for the last time, feeling especially overstimulated even with the carefulness of her motions.  

Wanda pulls back with a triumphant look on her face, watching you go limp in Natasha’s arms. Her thumbs rub circles into the sides of your hips as she watches you tremble, your bottom half searching for the same stimulation.  

Her hands leave to hold your face, her fingers pushing back strands of damp baby hair before your cheeks rest in her palms.  

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.” She kisses your forehead. “We‘re so proud of you sweetheart.” You whine at her tone, her praise, and her smile widens. She bites down on her lip, shooting a look to Natasha before standing on slightly shaking legs, her knees weak from kneeling too long. 

They had you in the perfect state for them. Blissed out and pliant, soaked, ready for whatever came next, willing to take everything they could give you.   

“Let’s take you to bed. We’ll get you all comfortable so Natty can do something about this”—Wanda’s knuckle slid through your folds, collecting your arousal and spreading it over her fingers—"My love. Yeah?”  

She reaches out to take your hands while Natasha lifts you to your feet. They work together in getting you to dry your feet on the rug, not wanting you to slip on the tile as they aided you to the bedroom. 

The three of you spend the rest of the night tangled up in one another, both of them mindful of your physical limitations, but stretching you out every way they desired. Natasha was the first one to knock out, leaving you and Wanda cuddled up in the center of the bed, Nat’s limbs hanging off the side, sheet barely drawn over her naked form.  

You two spoke gently to each other, not wanting to wake her up, but wanting this quiet, soft, moment to last even a minute longer.  

“I was thinking of going to mommy yoga downtown. It’s low impact. Plus, I can do a majority of their classes up until my due date. They have lessons for every trimester. What do you think, Wands?” You turned your head towards the wife that was barely hanging on to consciousness, the other breathing deeply behind you.  

“I think we already do enough mommy yoga, iubi.” She muttered drowsily.  

“Wanda! I swear to God—”   

[w1dowatrace]

Good Luck, Babe

Chapter 14: If You'll Let me

Summary: You're so close, yet so far.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+ ANGST, miscarriage and divorce mention, grief and loss, relationship insecurity, hard on GROVELING, Carol wants you bad and Natasha is scared really bad

Author's Note: Scheduled post

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⧗

Two months had already passed since everything.

Somehow, you and Natasha had fallen into a routine. Everything revolves around Aliah. School, homework, playdates, what she wanted for lunch, whether she was sleeping enough, whether she will sleep in mommy's or mama's. Natasha came by the apartment whenever she wanted and you did the same at the manor. There was no discussion about it anymore. No awkward asking for permission. If it had something to do with Aliah, the door was open. It was simple and easy.

At the same time, Natasha never let things become only about Aliah. Every single time she came over, she brought white tulips.

Every. Single. Time.

One bouquet for you and a smaller bunch for Aliah because your daughter had become obsessed with getting flowers too. At first, you thought was just a phase. But two months later, the flowers were still showing up. Natasha never made a big deal out of it. She'd just walk in, set them on the vase, and continue with whatever she came there to do.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And then there were sundays. It became a habit to go to church. To light a candle and pray for the baby you lost—for your little angel. Time had passed, but not enough to make you forget. Maybe it never would. The grief wasn't as sharp anymore, but it was still there. A permanent part of you now.

Natasha wasn't religious. Everyone knew that. She'd probably be the first person to admit it. But every sunday, she was there beside you anyway. Sometimes she followed along. Sometimes she just sat quietly while you prayed and she held Aliah. She never complained or acted uncomfortable. She simply came because you did.

But somewhere along the way, Natasha had even started praying too—she wasn't really praying in the traditional sense. Most sundays, when she sat beside you and watched you bow your head, her own prayers felt more like conversations. Quiet thoughts directed toward someone she hoped could hear her—your little angel.

I hope you help mommy heal. Help her smile more. Help her carry this.

The requests were never really for herself at first. They were always for you. But eventually, Natasha started asking for something else too. Something selfish—something she never had the courage to ask you directly.

If you're listening, angel, help me make this right. Help me take care of her the way I should have. Help me show her that I'm trying. And if there's still room in her heart for me...help her give me a chance.

Natasha always felt ridiculous afterward. She wasn't sure if heaven worked that way. She wasn't even sure she believed enough to deserve an answer. But she kept doing it anyway. Week after week. Sitting beside you in church, talking to a child she loved and lost before she ever got to know them, hoping that somewhere your little angel could see how hard she was trying—not just to heal herself, but to find her way back to you.

She never asked if you had an answer for her yet. There were days she wanted nothing more than to sit you down and ask where she stood, whether you still loved her, whether there was still an "us" somewhere in the future. But every time the urge came, she swallowed it. She'd already hurt you enough. The last thing she wanted was to pressure you into giving an answer you weren't ready to give.

So she waited. And she will keep on waiting.

As long as you never brought up divorce—she's safe, she's fine. For Natasha, it meant everything.

It might not be comfortable or secure. Not stupid enough to think everything was fixed. She knew better than that. She knew there were wounds that she caused that still hadn't healed. She knew you still hadn't answered her. But if you weren't telling her to leave, if you weren't ending things, if you were still letting her sit beside you at church and walk through your apartment and help with Aliah, then Natasha could keep going.

She could be patient.

She could wait as long as it took.

Because after coming so close to losing you completely, uncertainty felt a lot less terrifying than goodbye.

The knock came at the same time it always did. When you opened the door, Natasha was standing there with white tulips in one hand and Aliah's favorite fruit snacks in the other.

Natasha held them out to you with a small smile. "Morning."

You took the flowers from her and stepped aside to let her in. "Morning," you replied quietly.

Two months had passed. Two whole months of Natasha showing up yet somehow, you still couldn't look at her properly. Not for long. Every time your eyes met, you found yourself looking away first.

"Where's Aliah?" she asks, though both of you already knew that. You nodded, clutching the tulips a little tighter.

"She's in the kitchen finishing her breakfast."

A small silence settled between you afterward. Comfortable enough not to hurt, awkward enough to notice. Two months later, neither of you knew exactly what you were anymore. But Natasha was still here, and you were still opening the door for her.

"Hey, maybe Aliah can stay with you later? If you can pick her up after school." You asked casually as you set the flowers on a vase.

It's monday today, you know her schedule and she's mostly free for the day. You knew which afternoons she disappeared for a few hours for therapy and which days usually left her quieter afterward. And without ever talking about it, you'd made it a habit not to bother her on those days.

Natasha looked up immediately. "Yeah, of course." Anything for you.

You nodded. "Thanks. I need to have the sink and bathroom fixed. Something's wrong with the water line, I think. The pressure keeps dropping and the bathroom faucet has been making weird noises for a week now."

Before you could say anything else, Natasha spoke.

"I can fix it."

The words left Natasha's mouth before her brain had a chance to catch up. You two meet eye to eye. Then the redhead mentally cursed herself.

Because no, she absolutely could not fix it.

"Are you sure?" you asked slowly.

And somehow, instead of admitting she had no business touching a water line, Natasha nodded. "Yeah."

The worst part was that she couldn't even explain why she'd said it. She was a multi-millionaire businesswoman. If something broke in one of her properties, she called someone and had it done in an hour or so—it would be fixed before she even noticed. Natasha Romanoff had many skills and plumbing was not one of them.

So now she stood there pretending she had even the slightest clue what she was doing while you continued looking at her suspiciously. But she held your gaze with all the confidence of someone who definitely did not know the difference between a wrench and whatever other plumbing tools existed.

Because honestly? If pretending she could fix a sink meant spending a few extra hours with you, she was willing to commit to the lie for at least another minute before reality inevitably caught up with her.

After dropping Aliah off at school, Natasha drove back to your apartment and parked outside. She had every intention of walking straight inside and confidently dealing with the plumbing situation she had volunteered for. Instead, ten minutes later, she was still sitting in the driver's seat with her phone propped against the steering wheel, watching a man on YouTube explain the difference between water supply lines and drain pipes.

Natasha stared at the screen with the same focus she'd once used to whenever she's in a meeting with the executives.

"Okay," the man said cheerfully. "First, you'll want to locate the shut-off valve."

Natasha paused the video. What the hell was a shut-off valve?

She opened another video. And another.

Twenty minutes later, she knew slightly more than she had before, which was to say not much. Then she felt it. That sensation at the back of her neck—the feeling of being watched.

Slowly, Natasha lowered her phone and looked around the area. There, she saw Wanda walking towards the apartment building.

Of course it was Wanda. That witch.

She'd been making Natasha's life difficult for two months now—not enough to be openly hostile, just enough to make sure Natasha never got comfortable.

Wanda called it accountability.

The grocery store incident alone should've qualified as a crime. You'd been sick one afternoon, and Wanda had casually mentioned that you were out of soup, medicine, and half the things in your kitchen. Natasha immediately drove out and bought everything.

One trip turned into three. Wanda would say after: wrong brand. Then again: forgot the eggs. Then again: actually we needed more than that, Y/N prefers the other kind. Natasha would come back from the grocery store, hands full, jaw tight, only to turn around and leave again because Wanda would insist it wasn't "that hard to get it right."

When she finally arrived at your apartment, exhausted and irritated, she opened the fridge.

Everything was already there.

Every single item.

Natasha had slowly turned her head toward Wanda, who had been standing in the kitchen the entire time.

Wanda just simply smiled. A smile that belonged in a horror movie.

The most exhausting part wasn’t even the errands themselves. It was the feeling that she was being watched while doing them—evaluated. Wanda would lean in the doorway, arms crossed, already waiting for Natasha's comeback—checking if she was frustrated, if she was slipping, if she was going to react.

And Natasha never did. She just stayed quiet, nodded, and went back out if she had to. Because every time she considered snapping back, she’d remember you were in the same house.

And she couldn’t risk making things worse between you two just because Wanda was making her life feel a little hard on purpose.

So whatever test Wanda had prepared for her today, she was going to need at least a basic understanding of plumbing.

Natasha's already back to your apartment and she had barely opened the cabinet under the sink when Wanda appeared beside her. She simply looked down at the toolbox, then at Natasha, and let out a long, unimpressed hum.

"That's brave."

Natasha ignored her.

"Or stupid. Honestly, I'm still deciding."

Still, Natasha said nothing.

Wanda leaned against the counter and took a sip of her coffee. "You really do this to yourself, don't you? Nobody told you to fix the sink. Nobody asked you to. Yet here you are, pretending you're a plumber." She looked down at Natasha. "Actually, pretending is generous. I don't even think you know what you're looking at."

Natasha tightened her grip on the wrench but kept working.

"Try not to destroy the plumbing," Wanda called over her shoulder as she walked away. "Y/N would be really stressed."

The comment shouldn't have hit as hard as it did, but Natasha immediately felt her stomach sink. Because that was the thing—anything that involved you made her worry. She'd spent the last two months trying to do the opposite—trying to make things easier, lighter, better. The last thing she wanted was to be the reason you had one more problem to deal with.

Staring at the maze of pipes beneath the sink, Natasha suddenly wondered if this had been a terrible idea from the start. Maybe she should've just paid for the plumber herself. Maybe she should've called three plumbers. Maybe she should've called an entire plumbing company. Unfortunately, she'd already committed to this.

A little while later, you came downstairs, slipping your phone into your pocket as you entered the kitchen. Your eyes immediately found Natasha.

"You're back," you said.

The effect was immediate. Natasha practically stood up from where she'd been crouched beside the sink.

"Yeah," she said, brushing her hands on her jeans. "Hi."

A small smile appeared on her face. You smiled back automatically.

It was awkward. The kind that felt suspiciously similar to two people trying very hard not to act like they were interested in each other.

Across the room, Wanda watched the entire exchange and rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn't injure herself.

"Oh my God," she muttered to herself. Then she grabs her bag before grabbing you. "Let's go."

You looked back at Natasha. "Uh, we're going to the market." Then you awkwardly added, "Do you want anything? Food or something?"

For a moment Natasha looked genuinely surprised you'd asked. Then a small smile tugged at her lips.

"Yogurt." Natasha bites her lip, "You know…the one before? The one we used to buy."

And immediately you knew exactly which one she meant. The cheap yogurt you practically lived on back in college. The one you'd shared while cramming for exams, surviving on three hours of sleep and bad decisions. You hadn't bought it in years.

"Oh." You nodded once, suddenly finding the floor very interesting. "Yeah. Okay, sure."

The moment the apartment door closed behind you and Wanda, Natasha let out a long sigh and looked around the suddenly quiet apartment. Well, this wasn't exactly how she'd pictured the day going. When she confidently said that she could fix the sink, she'd secretly imagined spending a few hours with you. Just being around you. Maybe talking while you cleaned or worked on something. Instead, you'd disappeared to the market with that witch, leaving Natasha alone with a toolbox and a plumbing problem she wasn't remotely qualified to solve. Still, she couldn't complain. At least she had the apartment to herself now. No one would judge her watching YouTube tutorials.

By the time you got back from the market, the first thing you noticed was that the sink was actually working. You stared at it for a moment before looking toward the kitchen. Natasha was standing there with a wrench in one hand, a smudge of dirt on her shirt, and what looked suspiciously like grease on her cheek. The sight alone was enough to surprise you. You'd known Natasha for since college and not once had you ever pictured her fixing anything around the house.

"Wow," you said honestly. "You actually fixed it."

Natasha immediately straightened up. The praise seemed to hit her harder than it should have. A faint blush appeared across her face, and suddenly the woman who had faced world-ending threats looked oddly nervous.

"Yeah..." she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "It's nothing." The blush only deepened.

"Here."

Natasha looked down. The yogurt. The exact one she'd asked for.

"Thanks." Natasha took it carefully. Then, after a brief hesitation, she looked up at you. "Do you...want to share?" The question came out quieter than she'd intended. Almost hopeful.

You shook your head. "No, I'm good."

Natasha nodded immediately. "Right. Okay."

She smiled anyway—a small one—the kind she'd gotten very good at over the last two months.

Because the truth was, it hurt a little.

Not because of the yogurt itself. Natasha could buy a thousand yogurts if she wanted to. It was what it represented. Back in college, you never even had to ask. One spoon, two spoons, it didn't matter. If one of you had food, the other automatically got some. It had been one of those small, thoughtless things that happened when two people were close.

Now Natasha found herself asking permission for things that used to be natural. And you had every right to say no.

She just couldn't help feeling the distance. The reminder that some things hadn't found their way back yet.

The yogurt wasn't the first time. There had been countless little moments over the past two months. Natasha would come over and you'd offer her food out of politeness.

"Have you eaten? I made pasta." But when you came back she only saw one plate in your hand—only for her—when she actually thought that you would sit down and eat with her.

Sometimes she'd arrive just as you were carrying groceries inside. She didn't need permission to ask, she just reached down to the plastic bags but you softly pulled it away from her.

"It's fine," you'd say before she could even get them. "I can carry them."

And then there were the days Natasha came over and never saw you at all. Aliah would throw the door open with excitement before dragging Natasha inside. Meanwhile, you'd stay upstairs.

Sometimes she'd ask, "Is your mom resting?" and Aliah would nod. "Mommy's in her room."

Natasha never pushed. She'd spend the afternoon helping with homework, playing, and listening to stories about school. Then she'd leave. There is an unspoken agreement between you both—Aliah came first. Natasha would show up for your daughter every single time and you'd never stop her.

But when it came to you, things were different. You were kind. You were never cruel. Yet there was still a careful distance that Natasha felt in every declined offer, every closed bedroom door, every quiet "I'm okay" that meant the conversation was over.

⧗

You texted Natasha asking if she could pick Aliah up from the apartment in the morning and take her to school. When she arrived, she noticed you were already dressed and ready to leave.

"You heading somewhere?" she asked casually while Aliah finished getting ready.

You hesitated for half a second before nodding. "Yeah. Just an appointment."

The answer wasn't rude, but it was brief enough that Natasha immediately understood it wasn't an invitation for more questions.

She almost asked what kind of appointment. If everything was okay or if you wanted company. But she didn't. So Natasha simply nodded and said, "Okay." Nothing more.

The appointment is actually a follow-up after your miscarriage. And the entire drive there, one thought kept circling in your head—you should have told Natasha. She had every reason to know. She would've come even if you didn't ask. She would've cleared her schedule without a second thought and sat beside you through the entire appointment. You knew that. That's what made it harder to explain why you hadn't told her. And now, sitting alone in the waiting room, you couldn't decide if keeping it to yourself had been easier or just lonelier.

After dropping Aliah off at school, Natasha stopped by a coffee shop before heading home. She wasn't expecting to see Pietro there. The encounter was completely random.

"Natasha?" he said, looking surprised. Natasha greeted him, and for a few minutes they made small talk.

Among the twins, Pietro had always been the kinder one toward Natasha. He still talked to her normally.

"How'd the appointment go?"

Natasha frowned. "What appointment?"

Immediately, Pietro's expression changed. Shit, he thought. He felt like he just said something he wasn't supposed to.

"She didn't tell you." Then Pietro sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his lips.

Natasha felt something sink in her chest. Slowly, she shook her head. "No...what is it?"

Pietro looked away before answering quietly, "It's just a follow-up check-up in the clinic."

Just a follow-up check-up. That was the thing Natasha couldn't stop thinking about all day. Not the appointment itself or the fact that you'd gone alone. It was that you hadn't told her. She'd asked where you were going that morning and you'd given her an answer that was technically true but carefully incomplete.

By the time she picked Aliah up from school and headed to your apartment, a small part of Natasha wondered if maybe you'd bring it up yourself. She wasn't expecting some deep conversation. Just a simple, Hey, I came for a check-up today. It was okay. Something, anything. But when she arrived, you greeted her normally. Asked how the drive was, how Aliah's day had been, and the appointment never came up.

And Natasha didn't ask—she could have. The words sat right there on the tip of her tongue every time she looked at you. But she didn't push. She'd spent the last two months learning where the lines were, and she recognized this one immediately. If you wanted her to know, you would've told her. So Natasha swallowed the questions and kept the conversation on safer things instead even though it hurt her.

⧗

A couple of days later, Natasha called asking if the three of you can go out. But you let her know that you and Aliah were going to a friend's house for a birthday party that weekend.

"Do you need a ride?" There was a small pause before she added, trying to sound casual, "I can pick you up if you want."

Her plan of going out may not push through but she will still make a way to spend time with you.

You hesitated. But the memory of that appointment still lingered in the back of your mind. You've already hidden things from her. And maybe because of that, you found yourself saying something unexpected. "Yeah. Okay."

The silence on the other end lasted a second too long before Natasha answered, a little too quickly, "Yeah? Okay. I'll pick you up."

Monica's birthday party was louder than you'd expected. The backyard was filled with balloons, games, screaming children, and enough sugar to keep every kid awake for the next week. Aliah had disappeared almost immediately after arriving, running off with Monica and the other children without so much as a glance back.

Most of the afternoon, you stayed near the edge of everything. Sitting in a chair beneath a shaded patio umbrella, quietly watching the chaos unfold in front of you. Every now and then Aliah would run past, laughing so hard she could barely breathe before disappearing again.

A familiar figure dropped into the seat beside you, Carol. She followed your gaze toward the kids before nudging your shoulder lightly.

"I told you to follow me inside the house. You've been sitting here for an hour now."

You laughed softly. "Someone has to supervise."

"Half the neighborhood is supervising." Then she stood up and pointed her thumb toward the house. "Come on."

You looked at her suspiciously. Carol rolled her eyes.

"The adults are hiding in the kitchen."

"Hiding?"

"Drinking."

That earned a laugh from you.

"Come have one drink. I promise nobody's discussing politics."

With a reluctant shake of your head and a smile, you finally stood and followed her inside, she led you toward the kitchen and a chorus of greetings followed from her friends. You immediately got shy but smiled politely, and exchanged a few introductions. After that you immediately felt yourself gravitating toward the quieter side of the room. Carol noticed. With an amused shake of her head, she grabbed two glasses from the counter and guided you toward the farthest corner of the kitchen, away from the louder conversations.

"There," she said. "Now you can socialize from a safe distance."

A few moments later, she handed you a glass of wine. You stared at it for a second before hesitating. Carol immediately caught the look.

"Relax," she said, nudging the glass into your hand. "It's light. You're not going to wake up on someone's lawn tomorrow."

You laughed despite yourself. "Very reassuring."

"I'm serious. It's barely stronger than juice." Carol grinned.

You glanced down at the glass once more before finally accepting it. The first sip was cautious, but she was right. It wasn't heavy. Just enough to warm your throat without making you regret it.

What started as casual conversation somehow turned into the two of you being tucked away in the corner of the kitchen, talking about random things.

She watched you more than she meant to. When you took a sip of your drink. When you looked away like you were embarrassed by your own laugh. When you nodded along to her stories like you were actually interested instead of just being polite. And each time you laughed again Carol felt her cheeks warm a little, like her body was reacting before her brain could stop it. It annoyed her, honestly, how obvious it was becoming.

So she did what she always did when something felt too noticeable. She joked and teased you. She leaned into the role of the easygoing friend who just happened to enjoy your company a little too much.

But even as she spoke, she kept glancing at you when you weren't looking. It wasn't just that she liked being around you. It was that watching you be happy, even for a moment, made her want to keep you there.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

Carol held your gaze for a second too long, the words she couldn't say pressing at the back of her tongue. Then she exhaled softly through her nose and forced it all back into place. Whatever was happening in her head didn't belong in the room with so many people.

I like you.

I want to kiss you.

Fuck, I want to have you.

The blonde had already stepped in closer without fully realizing it. The space between you had narrowed to something that didn't feel accidental anymore. Her gaze dropped briefly to your mouth, then back up again, slower this time, like she was weighing a decision she already knew she shouldn't make.

And then your phone rang.

The moment shattered instantly. Carol pulled back just a fraction too late. Your attention snapped away from her completely as you checked the screen, and the soft, immediate smile that appeared on your face made something tighten in her jaw.

"It's Natasha," you said. You answered without hesitation, stepping away not even realizing what Carol was about to do to you seconds ago.

When you came back, Carol was already back in place—composed, casual, drink in hand like nothing had happened at all. You told her Natasha would be picking you up soon. Carol nodded, forcing an easy smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Sure," she said simply. But her jaw ticked once, subtle but sharp, as she took another sip of her drink.

The blonde walked you out of the house, the noise from the party fading behind you. She kept things light, like she always did, talking about small things as you walked side by side. You nodded along, still a little warm from the wine. When you reached the curb, Natasha's car was already there.

Natasha observed the way you and Carol were still talking for a moment longer than necessary, like there was no rush. You finally turned toward Natasha's car and smiled politely at Carol.

"Thanks for earlier," you said. "And—Aliah, okay? I will try to call later if I still can."

Carol nodded. "Got it. We'll take care of her."

Natasha didn't say anything. She just watched from where she stood, eyes following the ease between you and your friend. It wasn't loud or obvious, nothing anyone else would've questioned. But Natasha noticed everything. The way Carol stood closer to you and the way she touched you. The way it all looked…easy. Maybe it's just her mind again, but fuck it's making her crazy again.

The moment you got into Natasha's car, you immediately felt it—that quiet shift in you. Like you had to be more careful now. More aware. The last fight between the two of you flashed in the back of your mind, the one that somehow ended up about Carol. So you quickly said your goodbye to Carol outside, a little too fast and awkward, then got in and closed the door immediately.

The drive was silent at first. Natasha didn't do her usual thing of trying to fill it with small talk or random questions. She just drove, one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road. It felt…different. Heavy that you couldn't ignore. After a while, you gave in and spoke first.

"Have you eaten?" you asked, like you always did.

Natasha glanced at you for a second before shaking her head. "I'm not hungry." Then, after a beat, she added, "Are you drunk?" Her voice didn't soften this time. Her eyes stayed on the road.

You blinked, a little thrown off by how direct it sounded. "I…a little," you admitted after a pause. "I had wine."

Natasha nodded once, like she was noting it down in her mind rather than reacting emotionally. "Wine," she repeated quietly, almost to herself.

She tightened her jaw slightly, keeping her focus ahead. Because in her mind, it wasn't really about the alcohol. It was the fact that you could sit there, a little tipsy from someone else's company, laughing somewhere else earlier in the day…but when it came to her, even sharing a meal felt like something you kept declining. And Natasha didn't say it out loud, but the thought settled anyway, quiet and sharp.

The rest of the drive felt heavier than when it started. Neither of you said much after that. By the time the car finally slowed in front of your apartment building, it almost felt like you had both been holding your breath the entire way there.

You stood there for a second after getting out of the car, keys in your hand, the conversation still sitting heavy in your chest. The air between you felt unfinished.

Without really thinking it through, you looked back at her.

"Do you…want to come in?" you asked quietly.

"Sure."

Inside the apartment, the silence didn't get any easier. If anything, it felt tighter now that the door was closed behind both of you.

"You didn't tell me the party was at their place," Natasha said, her voice calm—but firm. "You didn't tell me Aliah was staying over there."

There was no anger in it, but there wasn't softness either—just clarity.

"Sorry," you said quietly. "There were some sudden changes to the plans." You glanced down for a second before looking back at her. "The party wasn't supposed to be there originally. And the sleepover thing happened today. Carol asked if Aliah wanted to stay with the other kids and she got excited about it."

Natasha just hummed and nodded once. Not wanting to talk about it anymore.

"I'll get you some water. You're drunk."

"Thank you but I'm fine."

The response came so automatically that you barely thought about it.

Natasha froze. Then she looked at you and let out a short laugh.

"I'm fine." She repeated sharply. "Of course."

The tone in her voice made you straighten slightly.

"No, seriously," she continued, shaking her head. "It's always like that with me. I'll help you carry something? No need. I'm fine. I'll drive you somewhere? You're fine. I'll ask if you need anything? Don't bother, I'm good." Her jaw clenched. "It's always like that. Every time I ask about anything, every single time, I get the same answer." She laughed bitterly. "It's fine."

You swallowed hard. The apartment felt unbearably quiet.

"But is it really? Y/N? Is it really fine? Are we really okay?" Natasha looked away for a second before looking back at you. "Because at some point it stops sounding like you're actually fine and starts sounding like you just don't want anything from me."

Your eyes dropped to the floor, your fingers twisting together unconsciously.

"You didn't tell me about the appointment."

You blinked, your head lifting immediately. "How did—"

Before you could finish, Natasha answered. "Pietro. I bumped into him that day." She let out a breath and shook her head. "He asked me how the appointment went."

The guilt hit you instantly. You looked away, jaw tightening as the realization settled heavily in your chest.

"Why didn't you tell me?" There was no anger in it or accusation. Just hurt. "You knew I would've gone with you. You knew I would've been there." She swallowed. Her eyes stayed on yours. "Why, Y/N?" she asked again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

When you finally looked up, Natasha was still standing there, waiting. She let out a shaky breath and looked away for a moment before forcing herself to continue.

"You can't even look straight at me." Her voice cracked slightly. "But with other people, you can." She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "With that blonde friend of yours, you can. You talk to her, laugh with her. You sit with her." A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. "Do you know how hard that is to watch? And I'm trying not to read into it. I'm trying not to make assumptions. But I'm scared, Y/N." She wiped at her face quickly, frustrated by her own tears.

"Am I losing you?" The question came out small—vulnerable. "To her? Or to a life that doesn't have a room for me anymore?"

The apartment fell silent. Natasha swallowed hard and looked at you, eyes glassy now.

"I just don't know where I stand with you. We're always together but why do I feel like you're out of reach?" Her voice broke. "I don't know if I'm your wife. I don't know if I'm your friend. I don't know if I'm just Aliah's other parent." Another tear slipped free. "And I can keep trying, I will keep trying...but I need to know if I'm fighting for something that's still there."

Natasha wiped at her face with the heel of her hand.

"I just need to know where I stand in your life. I need to know." She said firmly though her voice is shaky and full of fears.

Her eyes stayed on yours, unwavering despite the tears.

"Because the only thing I am sure of right now..." Her voice cracked slightly. "The only thing I know for certain is that I still love you."

The confession hung between you painfully simple.

"So tell me. Tell me where I stand. Tell me if I still have a place there in your heart."

You didn't answer right away.

The silence between her words and your reaction felt like it stretched too long, too fragile to survive anything sudden. But then you moved. You stepped closer to Natasha, tears still running down your face, your breathing uneven from everything that had already been said. The alcohol was still there—softening the edges of your thoughts—but you were fully there. Fully aware. There was no confusion in the way you looked at her.

Your hand lifted before you could second-guess it. Fingers trembling slightly as you reach for her face. She just stood there, watching you like she was afraid that if she blinked, you'd disappear.

You wiped at her tears carefully, brushing them away like you were trying to undo every second that made her cry in the first place. A broken breath escaped her. She covered your hand with hers, holding it against her face like she needed it.

That broke something in you.

Your forehead dipped slightly, your voice barely steady when you finally spoke.

"I love you," you said, and it came out raw. Immediate and unfiltered. "But I'm scared too."

Natasha's grip tightened on your hand.

"I'm sorry," you hiccuped, shaking your head slightly as more tears fell. "I just don't know how to do this without being scared. I don't know how to come back from everything that happened and not feel like I'm going to be hurt again."

Your thumb brushed against her cheek instinctively.

"I never stopped loving you," you admitted. "I just…got lost in how to survive it."

Natasha's eyes squeezed shut for a moment. The words hit her harder than anything else you said.

A broken sound escaped her before she could stop it. She shook her head immediately, tears falling faster.

"Please," she whispered. "Don't punish yourself for being scared. You don't have to know how to do this. You don't have to trust me tomorrow. You don't have to have all the answers tonight."

Natasha looked into your eyes.

"Just let me stay." Her voice broke again. "Let me love you. Let me take care of you."

Fresh tears spilled over before you could stop them, your lips trembling as you stared at her.

"Let me spend however long it takes proving that I'm not going to hurt you again."

Good Luck, Babe: Masterlist