Hello! My name is splatty, and I'm still trying to figure out how this works!
A little about me: she/her, 19, chronically ill (dysautonomia), full-time college student.
I've been writing/posting fanfiction since summer of 2025, and I've found a community that I am very, very happy to be a part of.
Please be aware, this blog will have NSFW elements. My writing is mostly smut, and I do write dynamics with dom/sub elements. I put warnings on my posts with my writing, so please adhere to those and read at your discretion. MINORS DNI. I don’t care if you’ll be 18 in a week, I do not feel comfortable interacting with you! This is absolutely non-negotiable. Minors will be blocked.
You'll notice it on my blog, but I grew up ✨sheltered✨ and I am chronically offline. Sometimes I might not get a reference, but I've been told that's even more entertaining, so take that as you choose.
ao3 - link to my ao3 account
𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 - Complete list of all of my posted works | Updated August 1, 2026
𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝑷𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 - Do Not Disturb | August 1, 2026
I won't write: extreme violence, extreme abuse, incest, male reader, religious themes in detail, real person fiction.
I do not take requests for writing. My schedule is all over the place, and I don't want to make promises I can't keep.
Anons List
Peace, love, and peanut butter sandwiches for life ✌️ (serious/rules below the cut, please read)
𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒇𝒇:
I don't have many rules, per se. I ask you to be respectful and not cross any boundaries I have set. Please do not try to get personal information from me, and do not harass me or abuse anon asks if I have blocked you. Plagiarism of my work/posts will get you blocked. It’s rude and disrespectful.
If you have been blocked, especially on multiple accounts, then it was for a reason. Please don’t send friends after me or create a new account just to get access to me.
I keep my blog silly and fun!! I want to entertain and keep my blog a safe space, so please respect that!
i fucking love hickeys. i want my whole body covered in them and i don't wanna have to hide them, but fucking society ruins everything.
There’s something about knowing her marks are on you, for everyone to see.
And then for Natasha (or your person of choice), I think there’s a satisfaction and pride, like those are her marks and you trusted her to put them there…
Summary: You decide to go out with Kate and Yelena, but you are wearing every item of clothing that Wanda would never let you be seen in...what happens when she catches you before you leave?
Author’s Note: Just a little something to keep you all fed!
You want to go out with your friends. You stand by the door, coat slung over your forearm. Dress sitting tight around your body—you’d chosen this one on purpose—you knew what she was going to say what she always says when you wear a dress that is this tight and this short. Your hair is done up in the favourite way you have it when you go out—your hand reaches for the handle and you almost make it.
But then…as if she knew, like she always does, it’s like she waits till the last minute every time.
“Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?”
You gulp. Hard. Hurting your throat in doing so.
You turn slowly, to find her—Wanda Maximoff standing not far from you, eyes laced with that uncontrollable fire you only see when she’s get possessive over you. Her hair wet, a robe only just covering her, the water from the shower she clearly just ran out of to come find you dripping between her breasts.
“Wanda I-“
Wanda doesn’t even have to say a word for you know that was the wrong fucking answer.
Wanda’s fingers tighten around her forearm, the lights in the room begin to crackle.
“Mommy..” you breathe.
“Mmm. Better.” Wanda takes a step forward, relaxing as she reaches for your coat with one hand and with the other, clad in silver and gold rings she tilts your chin up until you lock eyes with her fiery green ones. “Now mommy asked her pathetic girl a question, did she not?”
You nodded. It seemed to be the only thing you could actually manage, you wanted to say something snarky but you knew that would end in a spanking and you not being able to sit down for a week.
“I’m meeting up with Kat and Yelena.” You barely manage to whisper.
Wanda hummed at your answer, “good girl for using your words.” She paused, tilting your head to the side slightly “but no baby, mommy has laid out some more appropriate clothing on her bed. Go change…then you can go. But be back by midnight and call myself or Nat to be picked up. Do not make your way home alone.”
“Yes mommy.” As Wanda released her grip on your chin, you begin to walk towards the stairs.
But Wanda says something else making you stop and look over your shoulder.
“When you get back tonight, mommy and mistress are going to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to close your legs for a week.”
Natasha hasn't stopped moving in three weeks. Tonight, Wanda gives her somewhere to land. And maybe she used some magical interventions to make sure they weren't interrupted. It's not like her puppy will be complaining.
Dom!Wanda Maximoff x Puppy!Natasha Romanoff
content: sub top puppy nat propaganda, cunnilingus, strap on use, guided self touchin, condescending and regular praise, beefy nat undertones
18+, NSFW oneshot, MINORS DNI | 6.5k words
ao3
Wanda had been trying for three weeks.
Twenty-one days. Thirty thousand, two hundred and forty minutes, not that she was counting (she was).
And okay, listen—she got it. She really did. Being married to an Avenger slash occasional SHIELD consultant slash "Fury's favorite person to call at 2 AM for no good reason" meant that sometimes plans got derailed. Missions happened, emergencies emerged. The world needed saving, apparently, on a pretty regular basis.
The world was also rude, if you asked Wanda. She personally had the opinion that the world could take a number.
She was reaching her limit. Her wife was exhausted. Natasha was bone-deep, running-on-fumes, "I'm fine" when she was very clearly not fine exhausted. And Wanda knew exactly what Natasha needed. She had known for weeks. She had been trying to give it to her for weeks.
Except the universe apparently had other plans.
Two weeks ago, she'd gotten Natasha onto the couch. She'd had her practically melting into the cushions with Wanda's fingers threading through her hair, that glazed look starting to creep into those green eyes that meant Nat's brain was finally, finally starting to go quiet. Wanda had been murmuring soft encouragements, watching Natasha's shoulders drop, watching her wife's breathing slow and deepen as she started to slip into that headspace where nothing else mattered except Wanda's voice and what Wanda wanted from her.
And then Fury called about some intelligence breach.
Natasha had jerked upright like she'd been shocked, that tactical mask slamming back into place so fast it made Wanda's chest ache. She'd watched her wife transform from soft and pliant to the Black Widow in approximately three seconds flat, already moving toward her phone, already mentally three steps ahead in crisis management mode. The mission had taken four days. When Natasha came back, she'd barely slept, just filed her reports and immediately got pulled into another briefing.
Last week, Wanda had tried again. She'd gotten Natasha into their bedroom after dinner, had coaxed her into sitting on the edge of the bed. She had stood between Natasha's legs and traced her fingers over her wife's face—those sharp cheekbones, the curve of her jaw, the slight furrow between her brows that never quite went away anymore.
"Let me take care of you tonight," Wanda had murmured, tipping Natasha's chin up. "Want you to touch me. Want those clever hands all over me."
She'd watched Natasha's eyes go dark and focused in that way that made Wanda's stomach flip. That singular intensity she only had when she was locked onto something, when she had a mission—except this time the mission was making Wanda feel good. Natasha's hands had come up to Wanda's hips, and Wanda had been about to tell her exactly what she wanted—
And then the building's fire alarm went off.
It had been a false alarm. Some new tenant on the fourth floor apparently didn't know you couldn't microwave metal. Wanda had stood in the hallway in her pajamas, watching firefighters check the building, and seriously contemplated the ethics of using her powers for petty revenge.
By the time they got back to their apartment, the moment was gone. Natasha was back in tactical mode, checking the windows, double-checking the locks, that constant vigilance she couldn't quite turn off.
Three days ago had been the worst one. Wanda had been in the kitchen after lunch, washing dishes, when Natasha came up behind her, wrapping her arms around Wanda's waist and pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. It was soft, domestic, the kind of casual intimacy they'd built over years together. Wanda had turned in her arms, suds still on her hands, and kissed her properly. She had felt Natasha sigh into it, felt some of that constant tension ease just slightly. She'd walked Natasha backward toward the hallway, deepening the kiss, and Natasha's hands had started to wander—tentative at first, then bolder, sliding under the hem of Wanda's shirt.
"Let's go to the bedroom, baby," Wanda had breathed against her lips. "Now."
They'd made it maybe three steps when someone knocked on the door.
Captain Freakin' America, Steve Rogers himself, looking apologetic but determined, something about a mission debrief that apparently couldn't wait until the actual scheduled meeting time tomorrow morning.
Wanda had seriously considered slamming the door in his face. She had caught Natasha's eye, seen the frustration there mixed with resignation, and knew that if she sent Steve away, Natasha would spend the rest of the evening distracted, thinking about whatever was so urgent.
Wanda loved Steve. She did. But she was also planning his murder. A loving, fond murder, but still. Maybe she'd make it look like an accident. Maybe she'd frame Bucky. That could work. No, he'd been through enough. Maybe she could frame Tony, now that was appealing—no. No affectionate murders, Wanda.
Three weeks of trying, three weeks of interruptions, three weeks of watching Natasha push herself harder and harder because that's what Natasha did when she didn't have an outlet. That's what she did when she couldn't channel all that intensity and focus into taking care of Wanda the way they both needed.
It wasn't just about sex, although that was definitely part of it. It was about giving Natasha a space to turn off the constant tactical analysis, the hypervigilance, the weight of being responsible for saving the world on a regular basis. When Natasha could focus entirely on Wanda—on pleasing her, following her instructions—it was like watching her wife finally exhale after holding her breath for too long.
But tonight?
Tonight was happening.
Wanda had taken precautions. Extensive, borderline paranoid precautions that would probably make Natasha proud if she knew about them. She'd called Fury directly—actually picked up the phone and dialed, which she never did because talking to Nick Fury was exhausting on a good day—and very politely informed him that if he called Natasha tonight for anything short of an actual alien invasion, Wanda would personally ensure that his next cup of coffee tasted like regret and broken dreams.
He'd laughed, then realized she was serious, then promised that unless the world was literally ending, Natasha's phone would remain blessedly silent.
She'd sent a group text to the team chat—the one Tony had created and that everyone except Steve knew how to mute—that she and Natasha were having a private evening and were not to be disturbed unless the compound was actively on fire. She'd made sure Steve was busy with Sam, something about a training exercise that would keep them occupied for hours. She'd confirmed with Tony that there were no emergency board meetings scheduled. She'd even checked with Bruce that there were no experiments running that might explode dramatically.
And then, and she wasn't quite proud of this but also wasn't ashamed, she'd used a tiny tendril of magic to disable their doorbell.
Maybe that last one was overkill. But Wanda was done with interruptions.
Now she was sitting on their bed, back against the headboard, legs crossed, wearing the deep burgundy sleep set—all soft silk and delicate lace—that Natasha had bought her for Valentine's Day. The lamp on the nightstand cast everything in shades of gold, making their bedroom feel like a separate world from the rest of the compound.
She could hear Natasha in the bathroom, going through her nighttime routine. Water running, the quiet clink of bottles on the counter, the soft sounds of her wife getting ready for bed. It was such a normal, domestic thing, and Wanda's chest clenched with affection.
Through the open door, she could see Natasha's reflection in the mirror. She was wearing one of Clint's old Stark Industries t-shirts—stolen, technically, but Wanda had accepted years ago that her wife stole clothes from everyone and this was simply a fact of their lives. It had faded from black to a sort of charcoal grey, worn soft from too many washes, hanging just past Natasha's hips. She had on the blue sleep shorts with the tiny white stars that Wanda had impulse-bought online at 2 AM during a bout of insomnia. Her hair was still damp from the shower, darker red than usual, falling in messy waves around her face.
She was carefully applying the fancy face serum Wanda had bought her for their anniversary because Natasha would never buy herself nice things but would absolutely use them if they appeared in the bathroom. Even exhausted—and she was exhausted, Wanda could see it in the slight slump of her shoulders, the shadows under her eyes—Natasha was beautiful. Those sharp cheekbones that could cut glass, the elegant line of her neck, the way she moved with such unconscious grace even doing something as mundane as her skincare routine.
God, Wanda loved her.
"You're staring," Natasha called without looking over, but Wanda could see the tiny smile at the corner of her lips in the mirror.
"I'm appreciating," Wanda corrected, letting her voice drop into something warmer, something that had weight to it. "There's a difference."
She saw Natasha's hands still for just a second on the bottle she was holding, saw the way her shoulders shifted—not tensely, but in that hyperaware way that meant her body was paying attention even if her brain was still playing it cool.
Natasha set the bottle down and turned to lean against the bathroom counter, arms crossed, one ankle hooked over the other, trying to look casual even though Wanda could see the interest in her eyes.
"Appreciating," she repeated, amused. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"Mhm." Wanda tilted her head and let herself look—really look. She let her gaze track from Natasha's damp hair all the way down to her bare feet, taking her time, making it obvious. "Come here, baby."
Her tone was gentle and coaxing, but it had something underneath it that they both recognized. An invitation with a promise attached.
And Wanda watched—god, she loved watching this—as Natasha's pupils dilated just slightly. As her breath caught, so quietly that anyone else would have missed it. As she pushed off the counter and padded toward the bed without thinking about it, bare feet silent on the hardwood, moving on something older than conscious decision.
She watched that immediate response, the automatic obedience. It made warmth bloom in Wanda's chest.
Natasha climbed onto the bed, clearly intending to flop down on her side the way she had for the past few weeks—that mechanical routine of collapsing fully clothed on top of the covers, scrolling her phone for ten minutes before passing out from sheer exhaustion. But Wanda caught her wrist gently, fingers circling the delicate bones there, and tugged her closer.
"Not yet," she said softly. "Sit with me."
"Baby, I'm tired—" Natasha started. There was that deflection, that instinct to downplay.
"I know you are, my love." Wanda pulled her back until Natasha was resting fully against her chest, Wanda's arms wrapped around her waist. She pressed her lips to Natasha's temple. "You've been working so hard."
She felt Natasha tense—an automatic response rising up, the armor going on, the dismissal forming somewhere behind her teeth.
"It's not that bad—"
"Natalia." Wanda kept her voice gentle but firm, her arms still secure. "You had three missions in two weeks. You've been doing consult work for SHIELD because Fury keeps calling you for your unique perspective." She pressed a kiss to the hinge of Natasha's jaw, felt her shiver. "You stayed up until 3 AM last night doing after-action reports that could have waited until morning." Another kiss, just below her ear. "You've been working so hard, baby."
Natasha was quiet for a long moment. Wanda could practically hear the gears turning, the internal argument between keeping the armor on and letting it go.
Then Natasha exhaled long and slow, and some of the tension bled out of her shoulders. Her head tipped back against Wanda's shoulder.
"Maybe a little hard," she admitted, her voice was quieter than usual.
"A little." Wanda's smile curved against her temple. She let her hands drift up, palms smoothing over Natasha's stomach through the thin t-shirt, feeling the muscles there twitch under her touch. "My big, strong Black Widow. Always saving the world, always taking care of everyone else."
"Someone has to," Natasha murmured, less conviction in it now. She was starting to melt back into Wanda's embrace, the tension loosening by degrees.
"Mm, maybe." Wanda pressed another kiss to the spot just below her ear that always made Natasha shiver. "But who takes care of you, hm?"
"I'm fine—"
"Collapsing from exhaustion isn't fine, baby." Wanda kissed that spot again, felt her breath catch. "That's just your body giving up."
"Wanda—" There was something in Natasha's voice now, uncertain and seeking, her body already starting to respond even as her brain tried to hold the line.
"Shh." Wanda held her closer, one hand splayed across Natasha's stomach. "I just want to let you take care of me tonight." She felt Natasha go very still. "Would you like that?"
When Natasha turned her head, trying to see Wanda's face, her eyes had already started to darken, that focused intensity coming online.
"Yeah," she said, her voice dropped into something lower. "Yeah, I would."
"I know you would," Wanda murmured, letting approval color her tone. "You always want to make me feel good, don't you? Always want to take care of me."
Natasha's breath hitched. "Yes."
"My good girl," Wanda said softly, feeling Natasha's whole body respond—a full-body shiver, a tiny sound she tried to suppress and didn't quite manage. God, Wanda loved how those words could make that brilliant tactical brain go soft and quiet, focused on just one thing.
"Tonight," Wanda continued, letting her voice drop into that soft, almost crooning register that she knew made Natasha's brain go fuzzy, "I'm going to tell you exactly what I want. And you're going to do it for me. Can you do that?"
"Yes," Natasha breathed immediately. "Yes, I can—"
"I know you can." Wanda kissed her temple, soft and approving, and felt Natasha practically glow under it. "You're so good at taking care of me. So attentive. Always know exactly what I need." She let her hands roam, tracing idle patterns on Natasha's stomach, her sides. "Such a good puppy for me."
"I will be," Natasha promised immediately, her voice taking on that determined edge. "I'll be so good—"
"You're always good," Wanda said, turning Natasha's face so she could kiss her properly. She took her time, controlling the kiss the entire time, tasting Natasha and savoring her. When they broke apart, Natasha's lips were swollen, her eyes glazed and dark. "That's why I love you." She let the moment breathe. Then she wrinkled up her nose and smiled, excitement painting her tone. "Take your clothes off, puppy. Let me see my big strong girl."
Natasha moved immediately, scrambling off the bed with an eagerness that made Wanda's heart clench with affection. She loved this—the obedience, yes, but more than that, the trust. The fact that Natasha felt safe enough to let go like this, to stop being the Black Widow and just be Wanda's.
The t-shirt came over her head and caught on her hair for a second, and Natasha shook her head to free it, and the casual domesticity of it made Wanda smile. Then the sleep shorts and underwear came off in one smooth motion, kicked aside without ceremony.
And then Natasha was standing there, completely bare and beautiful. The lamp caught her body—the lean muscle of her arms, the strong line of her shoulders, the flat plane of her stomach and the definition there that Wanda never got tired of kissing. Three weeks of missions and late nights and pushing herself past empty and she still looked like this. Strong, beautiful, and looking at Wanda like she was the only thing in the room worth looking at.
Natasha was back on the bed in an instant, kneeling in front of her, close enough to touch but not doing so yet, her hands hovering at her sides, waiting for instruction.
"You can touch me, baby," Wanda said gently, guiding Natasha's hands to her thighs. "I want you to."
Natasha's hands settled on her legs, and Wanda smiled at her. She let the moment stretch, watching Natasha just kneel there, grounding herself in the sensation.
"There's my good puppy," Wanda praised, adoring how Natasha's eyes fluttered closed, a small whimper escaping her throat. "Oh, you like that, don't you? You like being my good puppy."
"Yes," Natasha breathed, sounding wrecked already even though they'd barely started.
"I know you do." Wanda cupped her face with both hands, her thumbs stroking over those sharp cheekbones. "You work so hard all the time, baby. Always thinking three steps ahead, always planning, always saving everyone." She pressed a kiss to Natasha's forehead, soft and tender. "But right now? Right now you just get to focus on me. Just get to make me feel good." She pulled back to look at her. "Doesn't that sound nice?"
"Yes," Natasha said, leaning into Wanda's touch. "Yeah, I want that."
"I know you do." Wanda smiled. "So here's what's going to happen. I'm going to take my clothes off, and then you're going to use that talented mouth on me and make me feel so, so good." She tilted Natasha's chin up. "And you're going to be perfect for me, aren't you, puppy?"
"I will," Natasha promised, immediately, fervently. "I'll be so good, I'll do whatever you want—"
"Shh, I know." Wanda kissed her once, just something brief and sweet. "You always are. My perfect, eager puppy."
She stood up and took her time—aware of Natasha's eyes following every movement, tracking over her as the silk camisole slid off and pooled on the floor, as the shorts followed, as she stood there and let Natasha look.
And god, Natasha looked. Her gaze moved over Wanda with such focused intensity that Wanda felt it like a physical touch—lingering at her breasts, her nipples already tightening in the cool air. Natasha's tongue dragged briefly over her own bottom lip, unconsciously, her gaze fixed there like she couldn't look away.
"Do you like what you see?" Wanda asked, the teasing lilt in her voice entirely intentional.
"Always," Natasha said roughly. "God, Wanda, you're—"
"I know what I am," Wanda said, settling back against the pillows. She let her legs fall open and watched Natasha's eyes track the movement with hungry attention. "Come here, puppy. Use that pretty mouth on me. Make sure to take your time."
Natasha moved between her legs immediately, and Wanda felt the warmth of her breath first—hovering, reverent—before she pressed her lips to the inside of Wanda's left thigh. Then the right. She worked her way inward with soft, patient kisses that made Wanda's breath go slow. Natasha wasn't rushing. She never rushed this.
"That's it," Wanda murmured, her hand dropping to thread into Natasha's hair. "Good puppy. Go slow, just like that. I want to feel everything."
Natasha made a low sound against her inner thigh and kept going—kissing, working closer by degrees—and when she finally put her mouth on Wanda's pussy fully, Wanda couldn't help but let out a soft moan. Natasha dragged her tongue through Wanda's folds in a single broad, flat swipe, hole to hood of her clit, and Wanda felt every inch of it, the slight roughness of her tongue, the exact place it dragged over her clit and kept going.
"Oh—" Wanda's head pressed back into the pillow. "Yes, baby. Just like that."
Natasha moaned against her, the vibration traveling straight up through Wanda's hips, and then she settled into a rhythm: narrow circles directly on Wanda's clit, tight and controlled, before dropping lower to fuck her with her tongue, shallow and quick, then back up again. She alternated without warning, reading which one made Wanda's thighs tighten around her head, staying there longer each time she found it.
"You're so good at this," Wanda said, her voice breathless already. "Such a good mouth, puppy. God, I love your mouth on me."
Natasha whimpered at the praise, and Wanda felt the whimper as much as heard it, a low hum against her clit that made her hips jerk up on instinct. Natasha pressed closer, flattening her tongue and grinding it in slow, deliberate circles, then sealing her lips around Wanda's clit entirely and sucking—light at first, testing, then harder when Wanda's fingers tightened in her hair.
"Aww," Wanda said softly, "does my puppy like being told she's good?"
Natasha nodded against her, the movement dragging her mouth slightly with it, and Wanda felt the loss of contact for half a second before Natasha's tongue found her again, faster now, flicking directly over her clit in short, insistent strokes.
"I know you do," Wanda said, fond and just slightly condescending. "Such a desperate little puppy."
Natasha groaned and pushed two fingers inside her without being told slowly, testing the give, curling them the moment she felt Wanda clench around them, finding the spot that made Wanda's whole body arch off the mattress while her mouth never left her clit, sucking and licking in the same rhythm her fingers were setting.
"Oh—right there, that's perfect—" Wanda's fingers tightened in her hair. "Don't stop."
She let herself sink into it—the drag of Natasha's fingers curling on every withdrawal, the steady suction at her clit, the wet slide of it all building tighter and tighter until there was nothing left to focus on but the exact place Natasha's tongue was working and the exact pace of her fingers, both climbing together toward the same point.
"You're going to make me cum," Wanda told her. Natasha shuddered at the words. "My good puppy. Working so hard for me." Her hand guided Natasha closer, pressing her in. "Don't stop. Right there—"
Her orgasm rolled through her in long waves, her thighs pressing against Natasha's head, her back arching off the mattress. Natasha worked her through every second of it without pulling back—sucking on her clit, licking her wet folds—until Wanda's hand relaxed in her hair and her body went loose.
Wanda lay there for a moment, chest rising fast, her pulse loud in her own throat. She could feel Natasha still pressed against her thigh, patient and waiting, watching her with those glassy, focused eyes, clearly ready to go again the second she was given anything at all to do.
"Okay," Wanda breathed, voice not quite steady yet. "Give me…just a second." A shaky laugh escaped her. "You're very good at your job, baby."
It took a few breaths before her heartbeat settled enough to trust her own voice again. She reached down and tipped Natasha's chin up, meeting her eyes.
"There you are," she said, steadier now. "Good puppy."
Natasha crawled up her body, and Wanda pulled her into a kiss—tasting herself on Natasha's lips—and Natasha melted into it with a small, needy sound.
When they broke apart, Wanda cupped her face. The glaze in Natasha's eyes was deep now, her focus entirely narrowed, and Wanda's chest filled with adoration.
"So good," Wanda praised softly, her thumbs stroking Natasha's cheekbones. "You did so well for me, puppy. Made me feel amazing." She pressed a kiss to her nose, her cheek. "You're such a good girl, hm?"
Natasha shuddered, eyes watering slightly.
"I want more," Wanda said, watching Natasha's pupils blow wide. "I want you to use the strap on me. Think you can do that? Can you fuck me real good with our strap?"
Natasha whimpered loudly, lips trembling.
"Yes," she breathed, "please—yes—"
"Aww," Wanda said, tilting her head. "Is my puppy begging to make me feel good?" She watched the flush crawl up Natasha's chest and throat. "I love that. Look at you." She kissed her once. "Go get it."
Natasha moved off the bed immediately and Wanda watched her cross to the closet—the way she moved, the muscle in her back and shoulders, the strong line of her legs. She came back with the harness and the deep purple dildo, and her hands were shaking slightly from just how bad she wanted this.
Wanda sat up. "Come here. Let me help you."
Natasha sat on the edge of the bed and Wanda took the harness from her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder as she did.
"You're doing so well," she murmured, helping Natasha step into the straps, adjusting them with careful hands. "Being so patient, so eager." She checked the fit, ran her palms over Natasha's hips, admiring. "Such a strong puppy." Her hands traced the muscles of Natasha's stomach, her sides. "Look at you."
Natasha's breathing was ragged. Her hands were fists at her sides.
"Tell me what you want," Wanda said.
Natasha's jaw worked. Her eyes were glassy, that headspace deep now, and the effort it took to form words was visible on her face.
"Want to—" Her voice broke slightly. "Want to make you feel good. Please. Please, Wanda, let me—" Her watery eyes were filling more, and she blinked, lashes going wet, and there it was—the need so real and so enormous that her body just gave it up. "Please, I need to, I've been—I just need to make you feel good, please—"
"Oh, baby," Wanda said softly, cupping Natasha's face in both hands, wiping the tears from her cheeks with her thumbs. "Look at you." She pressed her forehead to Natasha's. Her voice was adoring and just a little bit delighted. "Crying to make me feel good. My sweet, desperate puppy." She kissed her softly. "Yes. You can. You've earned it."
Natasha exhaled like she'd been holding it for weeks. Which, honestly, she had.
Wanda lay back against the pillows and let her legs fall open again.
"Come here," she said. "Nice and slow, just like before. Show me how well you can take care of me."
Natasha positioned herself between Wanda's thighs and lined the strap up with shaking hands, the head of it dragging once through how wet she already was before she guided it in—slow, notching just inside, giving Wanda a second to feel the initial stretch before pressing forward. They both moaned at the same time. Wanda at the drag of it opening her up, inch by inch, until she felt Natasha's hips finally flush against her. Natasha at the sight of it disappearing into her, at the base pressing snug against her own clit through the harness, at the knowledge that she was giving Wanda this.
"Oh—" Wanda's hands came up to Natasha's shoulders, feeling the muscle there, feeling her hold herself up. "That's perfect, baby. You feel so good. So deep in me. Good puppy."
Natasha was trembling as she hovered over Wanda, arms braced on either side of her, hips flush and still, waiting. Wanda could feel her twitch faintly inside her with the effort of holding that stillness, the strap barely shifting with each small tremor.
"Move," Wanda said softly. "Fuck me, baby. Come on."
Natasha pulled back slowly, dragging almost all the way out, until only the tip remained, and she pushed back in at the same pace, feeling the give of Wanda's body around the toy, the slick drag of it on every stroke. She kept it shallow at first, testing the angle, until she found the one that made Wanda's breath catch, and then she committed to it—deeper now, the base of the strap grinding against her own clit with every thrust, her hips snapping harder as her control started to slip.
"That's my girl," Wanda breathed, her hands moving to Natasha's arms, feeling the muscle working there, the tendons standing out with the effort of holding herself up while still driving her hips forward. "So strong. Look at these arms, holding yourself up so perfectly for me." She felt Natasha's rhythm stutter at the praise—a missed beat, the strap sinking deeper than intended on the next thrust—and Wanda gasped at the sudden depth of it. "You're doing so well, puppy. Such a strong, good puppy."
Natasha made a broken sound above her, eyes dropping to where the strap disappeared into Wanda on every stroke, glistening on the withdrawal before sinking back in.
"Oh, that's right," Wanda said, approving. "You like being told you're strong, don't you?" She ran her palms up Natasha's arms, over her shoulders, feeling sweat gathering there. "I notice, baby. I see you. You're doing so well."
"Wanda—" Natasha's voice was rough and wrecked, her hips losing their careful rhythm, thrusts coming faster and less even now, chasing the drag of the base against her own clit as much as the sounds she was pulling out of Wanda.
"There you go," Wanda breathed, moaning with each thrust, feeling the stretch of it settle into something she could roll her hips into. "Such a good puppy, keep going."
"Harder," she said eventually, her nails pressing crescents into Natasha's shoulders. "Want to—fuck—feel you really take care of me."
Natasha's pace picked up, her hips snapping forward hard enough that the sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, and Wanda cried out at the force of it, the strap hitting deep on every stroke now. Natasha's arms were shaking openly, sweat sliding down between her shoulder blades, and every ounce of that visible effort sent heat pooling deeper in Wanda's stomach.
"Such a strong puppy," Wanda said, breathless now. "Working so hard for me. Look at you." She felt Natasha press deeper, felt the whole beautiful dedicated effort of her wife taking care of her. "So good. You're so good. God—you're so fucking good."
"Please—" Natasha gasped. "Please, is it good—tell me it's good—"
"It's perfect," Wanda said, and she meant it from somewhere deep. "You're perfect. My perfect, eager puppy." She pulled her down into a brief, messy kiss. "You're going to make me cum again. I'm going to cum for you, puppy—"
Natasha whimpered and adjusted her angle, and Wanda saw stars, high-pitched moans filling the room.
"Right there—" Wanda's nails dug in, leaving crescent shapes on Natasha's shoulders. "Don't stop—that's it, right there—"
Her second orgasm hit her harder than the first, rolling through her body in waves that made her cry out properly, her whole body tensing around the dildo, and through it she heard Natasha gasp too, felt her movements go ragged.
"Okay—okay, baby, stop—" Wanda breathed, her hands coming to Natasha's hips.
Natasha froze immediately, even though Wanda could see what it cost her. Still inside her, trembling, her arms shaking with the effort of holding herself up.
Wanda's own chest was still heaving, her legs faintly trembling where they'd been wrapped around Natasha a moment before. She reached for the water bottle on the nightstand before anything else, twisting the cap with hands that weren't quite steady.
"Drink," she said, holding it out. "Both of us. Come on."
Natasha blinked, clearly not expecting to be handed anything right now, but she drank when Wanda tipped it toward her mouth, throat working, watching Wanda over the bottle the whole time. Then Wanda took a long pull herself, catching her own breath before she set it aside.
She looked at Natasha properly—flushed, trembling, watching her with those desperate eyes.
"There," Wanda said, voice gentler now. "You did so beautifully. You took such good care of me." She watched Natasha's whole face go soft at that. "But I think you need something too, don't you?"
"I—" Natasha swallowed. "I didn't want to—I wanted to make sure you—"
"I know." Wanda guided her to pull out carefully, both of them wincing slightly, and then drew her down to lie beside her. She helped her remove the harness with gentle hands. "You took such good care of me, puppy. Both times." She pressed a kiss to Natasha's shoulder, her cheek, her jaw. "Now I'm going to take care of you."
Natasha looked at her with those pretty eyes.
"I want you to touch yourself," Wanda said, watching Natasha's breath catch. "But slowly. The way I tell you to." She reached up and brought her fingers to Natasha's lips, pressing them there gently. "And I want your mouth on these while you do."
Natasha's lips parted immediately, and Wanda pushed her fingers in, watching Natasha's throat work around them, watching her take it without hesitation, her eyes going glassy and fixed on Wanda's face like she needed something to look at while she adjusted.
"Good girl. All the way." Wanda pressed further, feeling Natasha's tongue working against the underside of her fingers, her lips stretching slightly around the knuckle. "There. Now suck."
Natasha's cheeks hollowed, and the sound she made around Wanda's fingers was low and needy, her whole body going soft with the relief of having somewhere to put that desperation. She sucked like she meant it—steady pulls, her tongue swirling, her eyes never leaving Wanda's face, watching for any sign of approval like it was the only thing keeping her tethered.
"That's it," Wanda said softly, her free hand going to Natasha's hair. "God, you love this, don't you? Love having something in that mouth to be good with."
Natasha nodded around her fingers, completely needy and unashamed of it.
"Now," Wanda continued, "touch yourself. Slow, just one finger. Circle that needy clit for me, puppy."
Natasha's hand moved between her thighs, and she found herself soaked, oversensitive, a full-body flinch running through her at the first slow circle over her clit. Her hips jerked, wanting more immediately, and she caught herself, forcing her hand back to that same maddening, barely-there pace.
"Aww, I know it's not enough," Wanda murmured, watching her fight for control. "That's the point, baby. You don't get to decide when it's enough. I do." She rocked her fingers slightly in Natasha's mouth, feeling her moan around them. "Keep sucking. Don't you dare stop just because your hand's busy or you're distracted."
Natasha whimpered and sucked harder, her tongue working furiously now, like she could pour everything she wasn't allowed to do with her other hand into her mouth instead.
"Such an obedient little puppy." Wanda's voice dropped, going low and filthy. "One finger. Barely touching yourself. And still shaking like that." She watched Natasha's thighs tremble, watched her clench around absolutely nothing, her hips twitching up into her own too-light touch. "You'd stay right there forever if I told you to, wouldn't you? Never let yourself cum. Just keep circling that clit and sucking my fingers until I decide you've earned it."
Natasha made a broken sound, her whole body shuddering, her hand faltering—speeding up half a beat before she wrenched it back under control.
"Ah—slow." Wanda's tone sharpened, just slightly. "I saw that, pup."
Natasha whined around her fingers, eyes screwing shut, forcing her hand back to the achingly slow circle, her jaw working desperately around Wanda's fingers like the only relief she was allowed to chase was in her mouth.
"Good," Wanda said, gentler again. "So good for me. Look how wet you are just from this." She let her fingers slide slightly deeper into Natasha's mouth, feeling her swallow around them, feeling the full-body tremor that ran through her at the added stretch, felt the drool slip out at the creases of Natasha's lips. "Faster. Just a little. You've earned that much."
Natasha's fingers moved quicker, tight controlled circles now, her whole body drawn like a wire, her mouth never once easing off Wanda's fingers even as her hips started rolling helplessly into her own hand, chasing an edge she wasn't allowed to reach without permission.
"You're so beautiful," Wanda said quietly, and she meant it completely, unreservedly, with the full weight of years of loving this woman. "You worked so hard for me tonight. Made me feel so good, puppy. Twice." She stroked her hair back from her face. "You deserve this. You've earned it."
Natasha's eyes were filling again, tears catching on her lashes, and Wanda's chest ached with how much she loved her.
"Let go," Wanda said gently. "I've got you. Cum for me, puppy."
Natasha came with a muffled cry around Wanda's fingers, her whole body shuddering, her hips working through it, her hand not stopping until Wanda gently shushed her, letting her know she could stop.
The room went quiet, just their breathing audible.
Wanda drew her fingers slowly from Natasha's mouth and Natasha made a small, soft sound at the loss of them. Wanda wiped them on the sheets and then wrapped both arms around her wife, pulling her in close, and Natasha curled into her immediately—tucking her face into Wanda's neck, her whole body going boneless.
Wanda could feel the occasional hitched breath, the tears still there, quiet now, coming down.
"Shh," Wanda murmured, her hands moving over Natasha's back in slow, grounding strokes. "I've got you. You did so well, baby. So, so well."
"Yeah?" Natasha's voice was muffled against her skin.
"Yeah," Wanda said firmly. "The best. You always are." She pressed her lips to Natasha's hair and kept them there. "I love you so much. Love how you take care of me. Love how you let me take care of you." A kiss to her temple. "Love everything about you."
"Love you too," Natasha whispered. There was so much in it—relief, affection, the vulnerability of someone who had finally, after three weeks, gotten to set something down. "Thank you for—for giving me—"
"Hey." Wanda tipped her chin up gently, making her meet her eyes. "You don't have to thank me. We take care of each other. That's what we do." She smiled, soft and warm. "Besides, I got two incredible orgasms out of it. Pretty sure I should be thanking you."
That got a wet, genuine laugh out of Natasha, and Wanda felt the last of the tension leave her body with it.
"There she is," Wanda said fondly, kissing her nose. "My beautiful wife."
They lay there for a while, just breathing together, letting the world slowly come back into focus. Wanda kept up a steady stream of gentle touches—Natasha's hair, her back, her shoulder—grounding her, helping her come all the way back.
Eventually Natasha stirred.
"We should probably clean up," she mumbled, making no move to actually do so.
"In a minute," Wanda said, tightening her arms. "Just let me hold you a little longer."
"'Kay," Natasha agreed easily, settling back against her.
Wanda smiled and pressed another kiss to her hair. This was what Natasha had needed. The space to let go, to not be in control, to just focus on Wanda and let everything else fall away. To be praised and appreciated and reminded that she was more than just the Black Widow, more than just the person who saved the world.
She was Wanda's wife. Wanda's love. Wanda's good puppy.
And Wanda would spend the rest of her life making sure Natasha knew it.
A/N: This fic was started months ago. In fact the entire fic was finished months ago. I never posted it though and recently came across it and though...hm. So I changed it to puppy Nat, which is a new dynamic for me in terms of writing. I see all you service top puppies, I see you and Natasha represents you.
would you rather change your name to the most disgusting word ever, or have every possible kink in existence?
– 💍
Well I suppose “most disgusting word ever” is quite subjective, hm? What someone considers the most disgusting word would be different from what someone else considers the most disgusting word. So that one.
Let’s play a game! I’ll say a name and you say the first thing that comes to your mind!
Ready?
Let’s begin!
3…2….1….
Natasha Romanoff!
…
What, your answer wasn’t “I want her to pin me down with those strong arms and fuck me until I cry just to hear her say ‘aww look at those pretty tears’ and continue fucking me and then later she eats me out because she’s an absolute pussy muncher and my legs are trembling and she’s growling and her piercings are glinting in the light and then later she cuddles me and whispers how good I did in Russian while caressing my hair”?
splatty i love you and your fics please dont get run over by an 18 wheeler and then roll off into a ditch and get mauled by a puma and then eaten by birds and fed to the baby birds and dropped by the baby birds because they cant fly and land five hundred feet down onto the concrete and then get stomped on like a rain puddle and then dry up and go into the atmosphere 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔
