synopsis: wanda and natasha decide to include you into their relationship to spice up their sex life. natasha assured you it would be fun, but failed to mention wandaās own hesitancy.
PARTS
part one, part two, part three, part four, part five
summary ā when rain dampens your mood and brings out the softest of you, natasha keeps you safe while you wait for wanda to come home from work
warning(s) ā established relationships, polyamorous relationships, implied age gap, mentioned d/s dynamics, little!r, cuddles, stuffed animals, fluff, comfort, soft kisses, gentle words, mommy kink, daddy kink, pouting, whining, overall just a soft good time
authors note ā this was oringally supposed to be pretty wanda heavy butā¦ daddy nat just speaks to the soul sometimes
The pattering of raindrops had been a constant throughout the last couple of days. From the moment you woke up, to the very last second before your eyes closed, barring a few sparing hours in between, rain drops dampened the ground and your clothes. Wanda had forewarned you both attentively and affectionately, pulling you into her arms one morning at the counter during breakfast and telling you all about the expected showers that would soften the flowerbeds out back. The rain always made you soft, always opened up a small part of your heart that's otherwise closed off without guidance and sweet nothings. Natasha had been expecting the crash, the release of all your strength and energy, but youād surprised her. Somehow, youād surprised her after so many years together.
Youād pushed through the first three days of unrelenting rain with a pep in your step that was both valiant and endearing. Sheās always gone before you crawl out of bed, already halfway into her commute by the time Wanda rouses you from sleep with a gentle hand rubbing up your goosebump covered back, but sheās home before you, a mug of coffee in her hands as she sits on the sofa and waits for you to come inside. Sheād laughed every day at your crumpled and frizzy hair, damp from the shower that had only begun to fall harder in the last twenty minutes before you came home from work. She always directed you up to the bathroom, a watchful eye analyzing your behaviors and subconscious ticks until sheād assured herself you were still drifting steadily in the sea, no sign of ripe currents or drowning in sight. It never takes more than half an hour for you to climb into the shower, rinse your body and the rain from your skin, and get all comfy into a set of pajamas that sheād either bought for you on a whim, or clothes youād stolen from beneath Wandaās nose on laundry day.
For three days, youād held it together. For three days, Natasha secretly wished youād let it all come apart so that she could hold you tight and unapologetically for a while ā just being the bandaid that comforts a wound before it heals on its own. Because you can do this alone. The softness, the delicacy, but you donāt have to. Youāve not had to bear the face of vulnerability alone since youād met them, and that first rain shower had opened up overhead out of nowhere on the streets of Manhattan in the dead of springtime. That feels so long ago now; like a lifetime far removed from the one youāre living in currently.
Wanda had supported long chestnut locks at the time, always meticulously curled over her shoulders if they werenāt confined to a ponytail that swung down the middle of her spine with commanding authority. Natasha had been blonde, a stark bottle blonde color that washed out her complexion more than you realized at the time. You hadnāt known her any other way at that point. But now you do. Now you know the fiery red that grows from her crown and tickles your cheeks when she nuzzles your neck with a passive tenderness that melts your heart made from ice.
Youāre not made of ice. Youāre the warmest person they know; both Wanda and Natasha agree on that fact, but you think life had been cold without them before. In the present, youāre far enough removed from those nights of all encompassing isolation and loneliness to know that real warmth, true warmth, blooms even in their absence.
Even when you climbed down the stairs, hair properly wet and conditioned with an avocado extract serum, there wasnāt longing in your heart for Wanda. You glanced around at the pictures on the wall, some of Wanda and Natasha before theyād met you, a happy college couple on different paths, but so connected that nobody would know one was in school for Speech Language Pathology and the other for Architecture. Some of all three of you scattered around the continental US. The picture of Wanda holding you tight, arms looped around your waist, cheeky smile on her lips as she grinned at Natasha who affectionately stood on a cliffs peak to capture your contrasting beauty before a gleaming winter sunrise. You didnāt miss her with an ache in your bones, but with one glance at your dripping appearance Natasha knew the softness was settling in, and with it came the unfathomable longing for a body that wasnāt yet home to reap the warmth from.
āIdi syuda, oshibka.ā A rough, calloused, ringed hand patted the cushions beside her curled up body, the mug of coffee sheād balanced on her knee caps now abandoned on the coffee table, only a few droplets left to slurp if caffeine was that necessary. It was an hour ago, when Natasha had been alone with her thoughts and only the memory of you, but youāre more than enough for her now. Holding you is enough to convince her to spend a couple more hours of the day with her dazzling green eyes alert and open. Sheād sacrifice sleep for you any day, and she has before. Now is no different.
A frown creeps up onto your lips, one that's earnest and the truest reflection of how sensitive your soul is in this moment as raindrops race down the windows that give you the perfect sight of a somewhat empty driveway, Wandaās car still not pulled in behind yours. You know what sheās saying to you, the words register in your head like theyāre your native language, āCome here, bugā, but itās not your native language, and she knows you have a harder time processing her commands when your head is so fuzzy and your face is so flush and youāre so soft, but she says it anyways because she knows that it gets you down deeper, she knows that confusing you ensures she receives the most wholesome of cuddles.
āHi, Daddy.ā You mumble, a flush on your cheeks as you stumble toward her. The room feels warmer, but the rain feels heavier, and itās something youāve never quite understood, but they donāt need words to understand the way you work. They just let it happen and learn from the process of loving you, a simple pleasure youād never had the opportunity of knowing until them. You wouldn't have it any other way. You wouldnāt have wanted to learn this love from anyone else, let alone lose it to find them.
āDaddy, huh. Feeling a little soft? A little small?ā Natasha asks, and but the quiver in your bottom lip, she knows sheās struck a nerve; hit the nail on its head.
āSoft. Not small.ā You argue weakly, preparing to sink into her embrace before rough palms stop you, holding loosely onto your hips and allowing calloused thumbs to sweep along your skin that she seeks out beneath the pink color of your pajamas. Cotton shorts that leave so little to the imagination but sway around your thighs when you step, and a thin camisole that confirms to the stiffness of your nipples, goosebumps all down your arms and legs as you stand in the open, assaulted by the air conditioner that works on overtime to combat the July heat and humidity outside.
āGrab Liho before you get comfy.ā She directs you, and its a moment of true indecision that has you standing like a statue in front of her. You want Liho. You always want Liho when you get like this. You want his soft fur, and his gentle weight, and his body between your arm and your chest. But you want her just as bad. You want her arms around you, and her lips on your head, and her hands on your body. You want her. You want your Daddy. You want your Mommy. You want the rain to stop. You donāt want to be wet and cold anymore. You donāt want to be standing all on your own in this big house, feeling so so small as you shift your gaze between Natasha in a set of dark brown joggers and the picture of Wanda on the wall. She looks younger than, even though itād only been a year ago. Sheās grown wiser, older. Itās an unstoppable thing. Time. But it haunts you, and it grips your soul with something cold, reminding you of the days when youād been only an icicle in a storm, slowly melting, slowly cracking, just ever so slowly nearing a catastrophe fall to the ground that left you shattered in millions of irreparable pieces.
āDonāt want Liho! Want you! Want Mommy!ā You articulate your wants clearly, so clearly that Natasha smiles at your whining rather than frowning, a smirk of amusement settling in after the initial shock of your outburst settled. Youād picked up a thing or two from her, and she always finds it so endearing to watch your little brain work overtime trying to remember how to effectively articulate your sentences, no matter how short and choppy they are.
āYou want Liho, baby bug. Go get him for Daddy, and then we can all wait for Mommy together.ā She cocks her head toward the staircase, and you whine again, but drag your feet up the stairs and toward the bedroom where Liho resides in the center of your made bed, always added to the collection of pillows stacked against the headboard before he falls to the floor in the middle of the night on days when heās just an after thought. You feel bad about that now, all the nights heās spent on the floor, and your footsteps quicken as you climb, drowning out Natashaās amused laughter as she shakes her head and brings the mug to the sink while youāre away, knowing Wanda will have a heart attack if she sees it on the coffee table without a coaster beneath it.
When you return, Liho cuddled up close to your chest and his paw in your hand, Natasha is only just sitting down again, and you ambush her with all the control you can manage over your heavy body until she laughs affectionately and settles the both of you into the couch. Her hands tangle into your hair without second thought, working out the knots and kinks that have formed since you climbed out of the shower, and moments later she lays a kiss to your forehead that allows you to forget about everything else thatās happened all day. No stress from work, no heavy pressure on your heart from the unrelenting rain, no loud thoughts. Nothing. Just her, and the ache for your Mommy. For Wanda.
āMommy.ā You mumble against her neck, tucked so closely into her that sheās considering whether youāre in her skin, rubbing up against her bones and the blood vessels that she occasionally pops and breaks during her workouts. Itās been a while since thatās happened. Wanda evidently laid into her pretty successfully the last time she came home bloody and wincing.
āMommyās on her way. Why donāt you rest your eyes for me until she gets here. Iāll make sure Liho wakes you up as soon as her car pulls into the driveway.ā She muses softly, brushing strands of damp hair out of your face until she has a clear shot of your eyes. Your breathtaking eyes that she can't get enough of, especially when they're glassy and unfocused but trying so hard to see her clearly. Only her. Just her.
Your face screws up, a whine falling off your lips that melts her heart of stone just the slightest bit more, unveiling a diamond beneath the rough surface curated from years of unfair treatment. Sheās stronger now, older. Sheās not the same little girl she was, instead a beautiful capable woman that shows up for you when the world gets loud until itās quiet. āWant you. Not Liho. Daddy wake me up.ā You mumble sadly, digging your face into her.
āYeah? You want Daddy to wake you up, sweet girl?ā She huffs out a laugh, still combing her fingers through your hair. You manage a nod, your eyes closing as you sink into her chest. āNeed to hear you say it. Need to hear my baby bug use her words. Her nice clear words that I know sheās so good at finding in that floaty little head.ā
āDaddy wake me up.ā You repeat, already halfway to sleep, but your fate is sealed when her hand slips farther up your back beneath the cami you wear, the thin spaghetti straps slipping off your shoulders but Natasha doesnāt bother to fix them as you settle fully against her.
āAlright, baby. Daddy will wake you up.ā Natasha agrees, attempting to hide her pleased smile from your half open eyes.
She didnāt wake you up. When Wanda crept into the house an hour later, damp from the never ending rain with a scowl on her face because idiots in the office had delayed her leaving by half an hour, her rough demeanor melts into something tender as she spies the sight of Natasha holding her phone about your sleeping frame, undeniably answering emails that she canāt push off until later, but still soaking up every moment of your soft affection while she has it. Such a fickle thing, such a rare occurrence. Neither one of them like pushing you to this point when itās not naturally found, but they will if you ask, not that you do. So these stolen moments mean the world to them. When Daddy and Mommy arenāt just terms thrown around in the bedroom when you want things from them outside of your control.
āShe down?ā Wanda asks, discarding her bag by the door in favor of closing the gap between her and Natasha.
āNot too far, but yeah. Sheās not going to be happy with me when she finds out I didn't wake her up when your car pulled into the driveway.ā Natasha muses, smiling fondly when Wanda leans down to place a kiss to your head, so gentle, so soft, trying so hard not to wake you prematurely when they both know you havenāt been sleeping well between the cracks of booming thunder. āShe wanted you. Little eyes didnāt leave that picture from Mount Katahdin.ā
Wanda smiles fondly, her eyes gleaming with affection. āSheāll get over it.ā She addresses the earlier point made, even though she knows you most certainly will not get over it if you donāt want up in a deeper headspace. āIāve missed you both today. Think you can get her upstairs without waking her up, or am I condemned to the corner of the couch until Princess opens her eyes and gives me a proper cuddle?ā
āIām not moving her. Youāre condemned to the corner of the couch because Iām selfish and want bug cuddles.ā Natasha raises a pointed eyebrow and Wanda laughs because as much as you're a Mommyās girl in moods like this, Natasha finds you entirely endearing and adorable, obsessed with every little action and subconscious tick, like how you hold Liho tighter when you think he may just be slipping away from your chest in slumber.
āWhipped.ā Wanda mutters, shaking her head, but she canāt argue that sheās not whipped, nor equally as selfish when you choose her over Natasha. Itās a running battle, a continuous war between the both of them over your love, and you donāt even realize, donāt even know. They keep away from you, condemned to stolen moments while youāre asleep or beneath your nose when they ask you so softly and kindly to fetch something for them solely because they know you want to feel useful, and they know you need something to do with your hands before you get yourself in trouble for touching things you're not supposed to ā namely Natashaās work files and Wandaās briefcase.
āYeah I am. For both of you actually.ā Natasha smiles smugly, but curses beneath her breath in the same second as you wiggle against her chest, your eyes slowly creeping open at the sound of voices and her chest vibrating beneath yours.
āMama?ā You ask, eyes only partially open as you dig Lihoās paw into you eyes, the fluff of his main tickling your chin and Natashaās forearm from how heās pinned beneath the two of you. āDidnāt tell me.ā You whine seconds later, seemingly realizing that Natasha had failed to wake you up like she said she would.
Wanda laughed amusedly, sinking into the couch opposite Natasha and holding her arms out for you. āCome here, my bug. Let Mama hold you. Let me feel you for a couple minutes. Daddyās had her turn, itās my turn, huh?ā
āMamaās turn.ā You agree, throwing your body in the opposite direction and trusting her fully to catch you before you can fall off the edge of the couch. Itās not a far fall, youād be fine if it happened, but Wanda doesnāt let it. She won't let it, sheāll never let it. Youāre safe with her. With Mommy and with Daddy. Always.
titsay
vaporwave
dailybridgerton
