#throuple

[mush7221]

Sofa Soulmates

[derangedfirefly]

I forgot to post this one

[openlifestylehub]

[cherryst4rg1rl]

Challengers but it’s me and them

[sedonasummer]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴜꜱ | ᴠᴀʟᴀʀʀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ, ᴀᴇʀɪᴏɴ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

─ pairing: Valarr Targaryen x f!reader x Aerion Targaryen ─ content: 18+ MDNI | filthy smut with minimal plot | targcest | p in v | p in a | M/M | F/M | M/F/M| throuple | fluff | light angst | the boyfriends are boyfriends ─ summary: you, Valarr, and Aerion celebrate your wedding night. ─ a/n: an extremely overdue part two. as always, thank you for reading. 🖤

masterlist |

The first light had not yet crested the window edge when Aerion opened his eyes. The room sat suspended in that grey hush before dawn, the kind of silence that made his breath sound loud. He lay still. You were there, facing him, deep in sleep, lips parted just enough to let soft, even breaths escape. Behind you, Valarr's arm lay draped over your waist, his fingers curled loosely against the sheet just above your hip. Aerion did not move. He watched your eyelids flicker in whatever dream held you, watched the faint tension in your brow ease back into smoothness. You looked peaceful, the pair of you.

Aerion's throat tightened.

He thought about how this had started. He had not been part of it at first. You and Valarr had found each other long before he had been let in. He remembered the jealousy that had coiled in his chest because he had loved you first. He had loved you his entire life.

That had been a long time ago, and you and Valarr had let him in. And today, you and Valarr would marry.

Today, in front of the entire realm, you would stand before a septon and speak vows that bound you as husband and wife. Aerion would stand to the side.

He lay there for a long time, staring at the curve of your cheek, the way Valarr's breath stirred the fine hairs at your nape. The grey light outside was beginning to warm, the first suggestion of gold bleeding through the curtain edges. He could hear the distant sounds of the castle stirring, a servant's footsteps in the corridor, the clatter of a pail in the yard below. The day was starting whether he wanted it to or not.

Carefully, inch by inch, Aerion withdrew. He slid his arm out from beneath the pillow, shifted his weight to the edge of the mattress, and sat up. The cool air hit his bare chest and he suppressed a shiver. He swung his legs over the side and paused, looking back at the two of you. You had shifted slightly in his absence, your face turning toward the warm spot he had left, one hand reaching out as though searching for something. Valarr's arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, and you settled together like two halves of a closed shell.

Aerion sat on the edge of the bed and watched you both. His jaw worked. He pressed his palms flat against his thighs and breathed through his nose, slow and measured, the way he breathed when he was holding something back. The ache in his chest spread to his throat, constricting.

He stood, finding his clothes in the dim light, pulled on his breeches and a loose shirt, and moved to the door. The corridor outside was empty and cold. His boots silent on the stone as he walked toward his own chambers, and the distance between himself and that warm bed grew with every step. By the time he reached his rooms, the ache had settled into something duller, a low persistent throb behind his sternum. He closed the door and leaned against it, tipping his head back against it. The room was dark and cold and empty.

Hours passed. The keep filled with the sounds of preparation while Aerion sat in a chair by his window and watched the world ready for a celebration that, for the first time, he was not certain he could endure.

By afternoon, the light had shifted to a warm amber that gilded the stone walls of the keep. In your chambers, you stood before a long mirror while your ladies fussed around you, their hands deft and practiced. The gown was ivory silk, fitted through the bodice and flowing from the waist in clean, unadorned lines that caught the light like cream. Gold thread traced the neckline and the edges of the sleeves, subtle but luminous. Your hair hung loose down your back in careful curls, and one of your ladies was pinning a gossamer net of fine gold wire woven with seed pearls into the waves at your crown. The effect was luminous, ethereal. A knock came at the door. One of the ladies glanced at the princess, who nodded. The door opened, and Aerion stepped through.

His violet eyes swept past the room's occupants and found you immediately, and he stopped, lips parting, closed, parted again.

"Leave us," you said. The ladies curtsied and filed out, closing the door behind them with a soft click.

Aerion stood just inside the threshold.

"You are a vision," he said. "So beautiful."

You smiled, the corners of your eyes crinkled as you crossed the room toward him, the silk whispering against the stone floor. You stopped close enough that he could smell the faint rosewater on your skin. "Thank you."

You reached for him, pulling him into an embrace. His arms came around you, one hand pressing flat against the small of your back, the other cupping the back of your head holding you carefully.

"Why did you leave so early?" you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

His hand stilled against your back. "I wanted to let the happy couple enjoy their morning."

You pulled back, just enough to look up at him. Your violet eyes searched his face, and the warmth in them cooled by a fraction. "Aerion."

He shook his head. "It is nothing."

You studied him a moment longer, and he could see you deciding whether to press.

"I love you," you said.

He leaned in and kissed you, deeply, his hand moving from the back of your head to your jaw, tilting your face up.

"I love you," he said against your mouth. The words came out rough, almost fractured.

You pulled back and looked at him with those knowing eyes. "Today is a joyous day, you will see."

He nodded.

The wedding took place in the sept as the noon sun slanted through the stained glass, throwing columns of colored light across the floor. The hall was packed, every lord and lady of the realm in attendance, their finest velvets and furs and jewels on display.

Valarr stood at the altar in black and red, eyes fixed on you. He looked handsome, composed, every inch the prince.

Aerion stood in the second row, with a clear sightline to the altar. He watched you take Valarr's hand, watched your fingers interlace, watched you both turn to face the septon.

These feelings had been brewing for weeks. He had noticed them first as a faint unease, a shadow at the edge of his thoughts that he could dismiss in the light of day. But it was not until now, standing in this crowded sept, watching the two people he loved pledge themselves to each other in front of all these people, that Aerion understood the full shape of what bothered him. It was not jealousy, not exactly. It was the recognition that in the eyes of the world, he would never have a place at your side. The hall erupted in applause, and Aerion's hands came together mechanically, the sound of his palms meeting flat and hollow against each other.

The feast that followed was lavish. Musicians played from the gallery, and the great hall was alive with laughter and conversation and the clink of goblets. Aerion sat at the high table, several seats down from the bride and groom. He had a full plate in front of him and an empty cup.

Valarr held your hand on the table, his thumb tracing those same slow circles against your knuckle. He leaned in to whisper in your ear, and you laughed, turning your face toward his, your noses almost touching. Valarr lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. Aerion did not think he could feel worse, until you and Valarr took your first dance.

You moved together with an easy grace, and Aerion watched the way you looked at each other. Aerion signaled for another cup.

Valarr must have felt his gaze, because in the middle of the dance, his eyes lifted from you and found Aerion across the hall. He held the gaze without breaking stride then he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear, and murmured something.

You turned your head, following Valarr's line of sight until your eyes found Aerion. A smile broke across your face, warm and bright, and you lifted your free hand, beckoning him to join you both on the floor.

Aerion shook his head, looking down into his cup, swirling the dark wine against the sides. When he glanced up again, you had turned back to Valarr, moving together once more, the space where you had gestured to him filled.

This was the end of this good thing, he imagined. It would just be the two of you and Valarr now. No room for him. The thought was irrational and he knew it, but rationality had little to do with the way his chest constricted every time Valarr touched you, every time the guests erupted in another toast to the happy couple.

Valarr released you to dance with your father as he stepped off the floor, accepted a cup from a servant, and made his way along the edge of the hall toward the high table.

He stopped beside Aerion's chair. "Is everything all right?"

Aerion did not look up. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Valarr studied him, head tilted slightly. "Because you have sat here pouting for hours. You are being a rather sour guest." The words came with a smile, delivered lightly, but there was an edge of genuine concern beneath the tease.

Aerion was in no mood for teasing. He took another gulp from his cup, the wine bitter and heavy on his tongue. "I am fine."

"You haven't spoken to anyone all evening."

"I spoke to the serving girl."

"She does not count."

Valarr lowered himself into the empty chair beside him. He set his own cup on the table and turned to face Aerion fully. His knee pressed against Aerion's beneath the table. "What is the matter?"

Aerion's jaw tightened. He could feel Valarr's gaze on the side of his face, steady and searching. "All is well," and even he could hear how thin it sounded. "I'm drinking, enjoying myself." He lifted the cup in a mock toast. "Congratulations on your marriage."

Valarr waited a beat, as though giving him room to reconsider. Aerion did not take it. The silence between them stretched, filled with the distant music and the hum of celebration that belonged to other people.

Valarr exhaled through his nose and stood. He straightened his doublet, smoothed a hand over his hair, and looked down at Aerion with an expression that was equal parts fondness and frustration.

"Very well," he said. "I will leave you to it."

He turned to go, then paused. He leaned down, his mouth close to Aerion's ear, and spoke in a voice low enough that no one else could hear.

"I do hope you will come to bed. It is our wedding night."

Aerion said nothing. Valarr straightened and walked away, crossing the hall with long, unhurried strides toward the center of the floor, towards you.

The cheers followed you through the corridor like a tide, voices layered with wine and bawdy encouragement, the sound of palms striking the long feasting tables in rhythmic approval. Valarr guided you forward without urgency. The torches along the passage threw their shadows long against the stone, two shapes merging into one dark smear on the wall. A drunk knight called out something crude and half-slurred about the bedding, and Valarr's jaw tightened—the only sign he registered it at all.

The bridal chamber door closed behind you both, and the noise of the feast collapsed to a muffled hum. Firelight filled the room catching on the carved posts of the great bed, the half-burned candles on the mantel.

Valarr stood near the door. He watched you from across the chamber, his eyes moving over your face, your hair, the line of your throat. He looked, for that stretched moment, committing you to memory, never wanting to forget the night you became his wife.

You moved first, crossing half the distance between you as he came to meet you. His arms opened and you stepped into them. His hand settled low on your back, fingers pressing through the fabric.

"Pardon my boldness, ser," you said, tilting your chin up, "you are incredibly handsome. Do you have a wife?"

His mouth curved, "I do." His thumb traced a small circle against your spine. "My lady wife is the fairest in the realm."

You giggled. He leaned in and kissed you. Slow. Thorough. His lips parted yours patiently. Your hands found his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands, pulling him closer. His hand flattened against your back, pressing your body to his, and you felt the hard line of him, already half-hard, already wanting.

He pulled back just enough to work the laces of your gown. His fingers were steady. Between the slow work of laces and fabric, he spoke against your temple, his lips brushing your skin.

"You are mine."

The gown pooled to the floor in a whisper of silk, leaving you in a light shift that clung to your breasts and hips, the sheer fabric doing almost nothing to conceal the dark peaks beneath, the curve of your waist. Your silk stockings hugged your calves. Your slippers were delicate things, barely more than slivers of leather and thread.

Valarr looked at you. His throat moved. He guided you to the edge of the bed with a hand on your hip and sat you down, then he lowered himself to his knees.

He looked up at you as he reached for your slippers, pulling the first one free with a gentle tug. "You're so pretty on your knees," you told him.

"Good. I intend to be here a while."

He peeled the silk stocking down your left leg, his palm hot against your calf, his fingers curling around your ankle. He pressed his lips to the top of your foot. Then your ankle. Then the curve of your calf, his mouth warm through the skin, trailing upward. He repeated the process on the other side and by the time both your legs were bare, your breath had gone shallow and quick.

He spread your knees apart and settled your legs over his shoulders, your thighs bracketing his face, bunching the shift up around your waist.

"Isn't this a nice surprise." His gaze was fixed between your legs, where you were bare. Nothing but skin and the evidence of how badly you wanted him already glistening on your inner thighs.

He pressed his mouth to the inside of your left thigh, then your right, kissing and nipping gently, working closer by degrees. You could feel his breath against your core; warm, steady, maddening. He breathed you in. A low groan escaped him.

"So beautiful," he murmured.

His first lick was tentative. A slow, broad stroke of his tongue from the bottom of your slit to the top, gathering the wetness there, tasting you. Your hips jerked. His hands came up and pressed them down, palms flat against your hipbones, holding you open and still.

He settled in, parting your folds with his tongue, licking your clit with slow, firm strokes, circling it, then pressing flat against it, then circling again. His tongue dipped lower, pushing into you, and the wet sound of it — slick, obscene, the squelch of his mouth working you — filled the quiet room. You moaned, your hands fisting in the sheets. "Ohh yes, fuck!" He pulled back to your clit and sealed his lips around it, sucking gently, and your spine arched as you began to grind your hips against his tongue.

"Valarr —" His name came out broken, half a gasp.

"You taste so good."

He did not stop. His tongue worked you in tight, relentless circles, his lips pulling at you, his hands pinning your hips to the bed so you could not buck or writhe away from the pressure. You felt the orgasm building in your belly, a tightening coil that wound and wound with each pass of his tongue.

"Good girl, give it to me."

Your thighs clamped against his head, back bowed off the bed, you let out a cry that broke into a whine as his tongue worked you through it, lapping at the wetness that flooded from you, not stopping until the last tremor had passed and you lay panting, boneless, trembling.

He pressed one last kiss to your inner thigh and looked up. His mouth was wet, chin glistened. He looked like a man who had just been given everything he wanted.

"Husband," you breathed. "I need you."

The word landed. You saw it hit him, the way his breath changed, catching in his chest, the way his body shifted, pressing closer, his hands tightening on your thighs. His pupils were blown wide.

"Say it again," his mouth against your throat, as you felt the vibration of the words on your pulse.

"Husband."

He pulled back and gave you that smile; boyish, handsome. He stood and undressed. His doublet went first, the black and red fabric pulled over his head and tossed aside. Then the shirt beneath, and the sight of his bare chest — lean, sculpted, the muscle defined but not bulky — made your mouth water. "How do you want me?" he asked, as he unlaced his breeches and pushed them down, and his cock sprang free, thick and hard, curving upward toward his stomach, the head flushed dark.

"I wish to look at you."

Valarr nodded, "you shall have whatever you wish for, my love." He directed you with a hand on your hip to lay back against the pillows, and you scrambled up, settling into the mound of silk and linen, your hair fanning around your head in silver-gold tangles. He followed you onto the bed, caging you beneath his body — his arms on either side of your shoulders, his knees between yours, his weight held just above you. You could feel the heat of him everywhere, the hard press of him against your folds as he slowly dragged his cock through them.

"Valarr!"

"Patience, princess, I'll give you what you want."

He entered you slowly. Inch by inch, stretching you open around him, as you both groaned — a shared exhale that broke at the same moment. Your nails dug into his back, he leaned down to kiss you as he bottomed out and held there, buried to the root, his forehead pressed to yours, your breath mingling. "Feel so good," he groaned out slowly dragging his hips back before pushing in slowly again.

He made love to you. Not the frantic, desperate coupling of stolen moments in darkened corridors or the quick, rough fucks against walls that characterized your more reckless encounters. This was slow, deep; each thrust a complete sentence, each withdrawal a pause before the next. His body moved against yours with a rhythm that spoke of familiarity, of knowing exactly the angle that made you gasp, exactly the depth that made you claw at his back.

He kissed you as he fucked you. Long, deep kisses that matched the rhythm of his hips, his tongue sliding against yours in the same cadence his cock slid into your cunt. You could feel every inch of him, the thick head dragging against your walls, pressing against that spot inside you that made your vision blur. Your legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locked at the small of his back, pulling him deeper.

"Mmh — Valarr —" The words came out broken, punctuated by each thrust. "Yes, right there —"

He leaned back, pulling his chest from yours, and yanked your hips closer, changing the angle. The pace picked up, each one driving into you with a wet slap of skin on skin. One hand found your breast, palming it, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The other gripped your hip, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise. The sound of your fucking — the slick, rhythmic squelch of his cock driving into your soaked cunt — filled the chamber.

"I'm going to put my son in you," he said, and his voice was rough, stripped of every pretense, nothing left but raw want. The words made you clench around him, and he groaned. "You like that." Not a question. "Tell me. Tell me you want me to fill you."

"Ahh, I want, Valarr, please —"

"Please what?" His hips snapped forward, hard, and you cried out.

"Please — fill me — give me a son, husband, please —"

The door opened.

Aerion stepped through it as though the chamber beyond were not filled with the sounds and sights of his two lovers in the middle of consummating a marriage. He pulled the door shut behind him and leaned against it for a moment, arms crossed, one shoulder pressed to the wood. His eyes swept over the scene. Over Valarr's sweat-slicked back, the flex of muscle as he drove into you. Over you, spread beneath him. Hunger, longing, he felt it all.

"You started without me," Aerion said.

Valarr did not stop, his hips maintained their rhythm as he turned his head just enough to look at Aerion. He looked annoyed but not surprised. "We did not think you were coming."

"How remiss of me," he said. "I shall have to make it up to you."

"You shall have to earn that," Valarr said, his hips slowing for a moment as he spoke, and you whimpered at the loss of friction.

"Come here," you said, reaching past Valarr's shoulder, your hand extended toward Aerion.

Aerion crossed the room with fluid, unhurried grace, shedding clothes as he approached. He knelt on the edge of the bed, the empty space beside your hip, and looked at you, his violet eyes tracing your face, your throat, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath and deep thrust.

He leaned forward and kissed you. His hand came up to your jaw, fingers curling along the bone, tilting your face to the angle he wanted. He kissed you the way Valarr had; deep, searching, his tongue sliding against yours, but different, too. You could feel the difference in their mouths, their rhythms, the particular pressure of their lips. Valarr's pace quickened, his cock thick and delicious, the fullness combined with the kiss made your head spin.

Aerion's free hand slid down your body. Over the plane of your stomach, lower. His agile fingers found your clit, swollen, oversensitive from Valarr's mouth and the fucking, and he began to rub. Slow circles at first, then faster, matching the pace of Valarr's hips as he swallowed every one of your moans.

"Fuck," Valarr's hand found its way into Aerion's hair, tilting his head away. "Move just a second, I want to see her when she comes." Aerion obliged.

The combination broke you. Valarr's cock pounding into you and Aerion's fingers on your clit, relentless and precise. You came apart, your body seizing, your walls clenching hard around Valarr's cock, your spine arching off the bed. The orgasm tore through you in waves, each one stronger than the last, your cunt gripping and releasing and gripping again.

"There she is," Aerion said quietly.

The intensity of your orgasm rippled outward. Your walls clenched so tight around Valarr that his hips stuttered, the first loss of control you had seen from him all night. He braced himself on both arms and drove deep, once, twice, and on the third thrust he broke. His groan of your name was low, guttural, pulled from somewhere in his chest as he spilled himself inside you, his cock pulsing, his hips jerking through the aftershocks. You felt the heat of him flooding you, thick rope after rope.

Valarr's grip on your thighs was iron as he leaned back sitting on his knees to give himself a moment to breathe. Aerion moved across the bed. Valarr looked so beautiful like this, flushed, lashes fluttering, lips parted as he caught his breath. Aerion leaned in to kiss him — a hard, claiming kiss, his hand fisting in Valarr's hair, tilting his head back. Valarr kissed him back with equal force, their mouths moving against each other with a desperation that was different from how either of them kissed you. There was possession in it, dominance, a struggle for control that neither conceded. But beneath that, there was love.

"Husband," Valarr murmured against Aerion's lips as he grasped his jaw. "Do not stay away again." Aerion placed a kiss to Valarr's collarbone. Watching them made your walls flutter. You shifted your hips, a small, involuntary movement. They both noticed. Valarr pulled out. "You were so good for me, princess." You could only groan in response. Valarr chuckled, collapsing stretched out beside you on the pillows.

Aerion moved toward you, lowering his mouth to your ribs. He pressed light kisses there, his lips barely grazing the skin. You reached for him, wanting more, wanting his mouth elsewhere, and —

"Not yet."

Valarr's voice cut through the post-orgasm haze, calm and commanding. Aerion looked up, his chin resting on your breast, his violet eyes finding Valarr's face.

"Suck my cock well," Valarr said, turning his head to meet Aerion's gaze, "then you can fuck my wife."

Something moved through Aerion's expression. A flicker — defiance, pride, the particular stubbornness that rose in him whenever someone tried to claim what he saw as his. He held Valarr's gaze, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet and precise.

"Our wife."

Valarr did not acknowledge it. "Hmm," he hummed, a non-answer — he sat up properly against the pillows, one hand trailing down your body, palm warm against your ribs, your waist, your hip. "I'm the only one who consummated my marriage."

Aerion held the gaze a moment longer, jaw tight.

"Valarr, play nice."

Valarr chuckled, turning to you. "Aerion doesn't seem to want to play at all." He lifted an eyebrow meeting Aerion's gaze again.

Then Aerion moved.

He shifted across the bed, settling himself between Valarr's legs, his knees on the mattress, his back straight. Valarr's cock lay against his thigh, half soft but still thick, glistening with the evidence of you — his cum and your wetness mingled on the skin. Aerion did not hesitate. He leaned forward and took Valarr into his mouth.

Aerion's lips sealed around the head of Valarr's cock, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked hard, pulling back to the tip before sinking down again until his nose pressed against the dark hair at the base. The shaft had swollen full again, thick and rigid against Aerion's tongue, and he worked it with the kind of practiced ease that came from doing this dozens of times before — in darkened corridors, in tents during tourneys, in this very bed when it was just the two of them waiting for you.

You watched. You could not look away. The sight of Aerion, beautiful, proud, defiant Aerion, on his knees between Valarr's legs, his mouth full, his eyes half-closed in something that was not submission but devotion — made your stomach clench and your breath go short. You could see the muscles of his back shifting beneath fair skin, the line of his spine curving as he bent, the hard shape of his own cock hanging heavy between his thighs, untouched and flushed.

He loved this. You could see it in the way his hands curled around Valarr's hips, pulling him closer, the way his rhythm never faltered, the way he took Valarr to the root on every stroke and held there for a breath before pulling back. His eyes opened once, violet finding your violet across the bed, and there was heat in them, not just for Valarr, but for you. For the fact that you were seeing this. That you were part of this.

Valarr's hands found Aerion's hair, both of them, fingers threading through white-gold strands and gripping tight. His hips shifted upward, a small, involuntary thrust that pushed his cock deeper into Aerion's throat. A groan rolled from his chest, low and rough. "Good — gods, you're so good at this."

Aerion pulled off with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting his lower lip to the flushed head of Valarr's cock, and then he dipped lower. His tongue dragged a long, flat stripe up the underside of the shaft before tracing down to the heavy sac beneath. He mouthed at one ball, then the other, sucking it gently into the wet heat of his mouth, rolling it against his tongue. Valarr's grip in his hair tightened to the point of pain, and the sound that came from Valarr's throat — half-growl, half-gasp — told Aerion everything he needed to know about how much Valarr loved this. He sucked harder, letting his tongue work the sensitive skin, pulling back just enough to press wet kisses there before taking one into his mouth again.

"Fuck, Aerion —" Valarr's head fell back against the carved wooden headboard, his mismatched eyes half-lidded, the muscles in his stomach clenching and releasing with each pull of Aerion's mouth. "Just like that. Don't stop."

Valarr's breath came faster. His thighs tensed beneath Aerion's hands. The praise spilled from him in broken fragments between groans.

Then his eyes shifted. Past Aerion, to the side, where you lay watching. The firelight caught the sheen of sweat on your skin, the way your chest rose and fell with quickened breath, the faint flush that spread from your breasts to your throat. Valarr's gaze held yours for a moment, and then he tilted his chin, a small gesture, barely more than a lift of his jaw. An invitation. Come here.

You moved without hesitation, shifting across the tangled sheets toward him. Valarr's hand left Aerion's hair and found the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss as you settled over him. Beneath you, you could feel the hard planes of his stomach damp with sweat, his hands came up to your breasts immediately, cupping them, thumbs dragging across your nipples until they stiffened under his touch, and then he pulled one into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make you gasp. You rolled your hips forward, grinding your slick pussy against the taut muscle of his stomach. The friction was maddening.

"Mmmh — yes —" you breathed, your head tipping back, your hands bracing on Valarr's chest as you moved. You ground against him in slow, desperate circles, chasing the friction, your wetness smearing across his upper stomach.

Below, Aerion had stopped. His mouth still wrapped around Valarr's cock, but his eyes were fixed on the sight above him, the way your cunt dragged wet and open across Valarr's body, the way your hips rolled and stuttered with pleasure. Mesmerized. His throat worked around a swallow, and he pulled off Valarr's shaft slowly.

Valarr's hands dug into the soft flesh of your hips, sliding you forward and back. "Take what you need, princess. Use me."

Aerion moved forward. His lips pressed against the curve of your left cheek — a soft, warm kiss that made your skin prickle. Then another, higher, at the base of your spine where the dip of your vertebrae created a shadow. Then another, at your shoulder blade, his chest brushing against your back as he rose behind you. You moaned reached back with one hand, fingers tangling into his hair, gripping hard.

He kissed your neck, open-mouthed and hungry, his breath hot against the damp skin there as he palmed both your breasts in his hands. His cock; hard, flushed, leaking at the tip, pressed against the back of your thigh, as he rocked his hips forward. A shudder ran through him, felt through every point where your bodies touched.

"Fuck," Valarr breathed.

The word sounded desperate, eyes moving between the two of you, drinking in the image: your arched back, Aerion's lips on your neck, both of you golden-silver and beautiful. The most perfect sight he had ever seen. His hands tightened on your hips, stilling your movement entirely.

You whined, a high, thin sound of protest, and tried to grind forward again, but his grip held firm.

Then Valarr's gaze shifted to Aerion, and his voice dropped. "The way you fuck her, is how I am going to fuck you."

Aerion went still. His breath caught, and for one suspended moment, his fingers tightened on your shoulder. He moved you, not roughly, lifting you off Valarr's body and settling you onto your hands and knees on the mattress. The shift was disorienting, sudden, and before you could fully register the change, you felt the blunt head of Aerion's cock notch against your entrance.

"Such a pretty cunt," he murmured, and then he thrust forward in one hard, deep stroke that seated him fully inside you.

The sound that tore from your throat was somewhere between a cry and a moan, your walls stretching around him, clenching at the sudden fullness, your body still sensitive and swollen from the orgasms Valarr had already pulled from you. Aerion groaned behind you, his forehead dropped to your shoulder, breath ragged against your skin.

"I need you," he moaned, barely above a whisper, his lips pressed against your shoulder in a kiss so tender it seemed impossible coming from the man whose cock was buried to the hilt inside you. "You belong to me, sweet sister."

He pulled back and thrust forward again, hard, and the tenderness dissolved into something ferocious. He fucked you with a desperation that went beyond lust, each stroke driving deep, the force of it rocking you forward on your arms, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the chamber. Smack, smack, smack. His hips snapped against your ass with a punishing rhythm, and his hands gripped your waist hard enough to leave marks.

"You are mine," he said, his voice rough and fractured between thrusts. "My wife."

"Yes — yes, Aerion —"

He had something to prove. You could feel it in the way he drove into you, the way his fingers dug into your flesh, the way his breathing grew ragged and uneven. The wedding had wound something tight in him — the feast, the toasts, the way the realm celebrated Valarr's union with you as though Aerion did not exist. He hated it. He was fucking that hatred out of himself with every stroke into your body.

You dropped from your hands to your elbows, the arch of your back deepening, and the new angle took him even deeper. Aerion groaned at the sight of you, the curve of your spine, the way your body opened for him, and his hand came down on your ass with a sharp crack. The sting bloomed hot across your skin, and you gasped, clenching around him.

"Gods — look at you," Valarr breathed, Aerion's rhythm stuttering for just a moment as his eyes tracked the way his cock disappeared into you, the thick shaft glistening with your arousal. He smacked your ass again, watching the flesh jiggle, obsessed with the sight of you taking all of him.

You turned your head, breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps from the force of his fucking, and found Valarr's eyes locked on you. He had moved to the side of the bed, propped against the pillows, one hand wrapped around his own cock, stroking slowly. His gaze moved between your face and the point where Aerion's body joined yours.

"Does that feel good?" he asked.

You nodded, a jerky, desperate motion, another moan tearing from your throat as Aerion drove home with particular force. "Y-yes —"

"Focus on me," Aerion snapped. His hand left your hip and fisted in your hair, pulling your head back, and the sharp tug at your scalp sent a bolt of heat straight through you. You moaned, long and shameless, your back arching deeper as he continued his onslaught.

Valarr chuckled, a low, warm sound. "You never share well, Aerion."

Aerion shot him an incredulous look, his rhythm faltering for just a beat, the absurdity of the accusation cutting through the haze of his desperation. His mouth opened as if to retort, but whatever he might have said dissolved into a groan as his hips jerked forward involuntarily; he was close. You could feel it in the way his thrusts grew erratic, the way his breathing fractured into harsh, uneven pants, the way his grip on your hair tightened.

Valarr climbed off the bed, but you couldn't track where to, couldn't pay attention to anything because Aerion was hitting that spot inside you over and over and the pressure was building past the point of return, coiling tight and hot at the base of your spine.

Your orgasm hit like a wave crashing against rocks. You came apart, legs shaking, your arms giving out, your whole body trembling as your cunt clamped down hard around Aerion's cock, milking him in desperate, rhythmic pulses. You couldn't breathe. The air left your lungs in a broken sob, and black spots danced at the edges of your vision as the pleasure crested and broke and kept breaking.

Aerion followed immediately. Your walls clenching around him dragged him over the edge, and he slammed forward one final time, burying himself as deep as he could go, and came with a groan that sounded almost pained.

You collapsed. Your body folded forward into the sheets, boneless and weak, and Aerion's weight lifted from you as he pulled out — slowly, carefully.

Then his lips found your back. Kiss after kiss pressed against the knobs of your spine, the curve of your shoulder blade, the dip of your lower back. Each one so gentle. He rolled you over, slowly. Sleepy. Happy. A lazy smile curved your lips.

Valarr climbed back onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he moved to kneel beside Aerion. His hand settled on Aerion's back.

Valarr looked down at you, his eyes soft in the firelight. "Are you satisfied?" You nodded, a slow, languid dip of your chin.

"Good," he said.

A shiver ran through you, starting at the base of your skull and cascading down your spine. You knew what was coming. You loved watching the two of them together — two beautiful men finding pleasure in each other. You could already feel the wetness building again between your thighs, your cunt stirring despite the exhaustion, anticipation pooling low in your belly.

Valarr moved. He shifted behind Aerion, and his hands, firm but careful, guided Aerion forward, pushing him gently down onto all fours. Aerion went willingly, lowering himself over you, and his head came to rest on your stomach. His breath was warm against your skin; you reached down to card your fingers through his hair absently.

The sound of a cork being pulled from a small vial reached your ears. Then the slick sound of oil coating fingers.

Valarr's hand returned to Aerion's hip, steadying him, and then Valarr's oil-slicked fingers disappeared between Aerion's cheeks and found the tight furled entrance there. One finger pressed in, slow and deliberate, and Aerion's breath hitched against your stomach. A low moan vibrated through his lips and into your skin, his fingers curled against the sheets on either side of your waist.

Valarr worked him open with patient, practiced movements. Then a second finger joined the first, and Aerion whimpered. His hips pushed backward.

Valarr breathed, his voice rough and low. "Fuck yourself on my fingers. Just like that."

Aerion let out a long, drawn-out moan his panting grew ragged — each exhale a warm gust against your stomach. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to your skin, his lips wet and hungry, trailing across your belly as though he needed something to anchor himself to while Valarr's fingers worked him open.

"You want me to fuck you?"

Aerion lifted his head just enough to speak, his eyes half-glazed. "Don't ask foolish questions," his voice came out rough and imperious even in this position — kneeling, open, desperate.

Valarr laughed. He pulled his fingers free, slowly, carefully, and Aerion made a small noise at the loss.

"Gods, you look so good," Valarr murmured, and he leaned in. His tongue traced a flat, wet stripe across Aerion's entrance, and Aerion whimpered — a broken, shuddering sound that made your stomach tighten.

Valarr pulled away and ran a hand through Aerion's hair. He leaned over Aerion's back, his chest pressing against the curve of Aerion's spine. Aerion turned his head; slowly, with effort, to lock eyes with him.

The silence between them said everything. A question, unspoken, held in Valarr's gaze. Are you ready?

Aerion nodded. A single, definitive dip of his chin.

Valarr nodded in response. He pressed a kiss to Aerion's temple and then his eyes found yours. He smiled, and his hand found your knee, squeezing once before he pushed himself upright.

He reached for the vial of oil again, pouring more into his palm, and wrapped his hand around his own cock. Then he positioned himself behind Aerion. One hand settled on Aerion's hip, fingers curling into the bone, the other hand guided his cock downward, the blunt head pressing against Aerion's slicked, stretched entrance.

The first inch was the slowest. Aerion's breath hitched, his fingers curling against the soft skin of your stomach where his head rested, and a sound escaped him, not a whimper, not yet, but something close, something thin and involuntary that he would have swallowed if he could have.

Valarr pushed deeper. Another inch, then another, the heat inside Aerion's passage gripping him like a fist soaked in oil and silk. The stretch was immense. Aerion could feel himself being opened, his walls forced apart around the girth of Valarr's cock, and his back arched, spine curving as though his body might somehow escape the slow, inexorable pressure.

Beneath him, you felt the vibration of his moan travel through your skin, and your cunt, still swollen and dripping with the evidence of what Aerion had done to you moments before, throbbed in answer, a pulse of heat that made your thighs shift against the sheets.

Valarr paused, buried to the root, and let out a breath that shook. Each flutter sent a jolt through Valarr's spine, and he stayed perfectly still, one hand pressed flat between Aerion's shoulder blades, feeling the rapid hammer of his pulse through skin and bone. The sounds Aerion was making, those small, fractured gasps, were music.

He felt the moment Aerion's body surrendered. The rigid tension eased, resistance melting. He pulled back slowly until only the tip remained then pushed back in.

The sound that came from Aerion's throat was somewhere between a groan and a sob. His hips jerked forward, pressing his face harder against you, his fingers dug into the sheets. Valarr pulled back again, set the same devastating pace, and each thrust drove a new sound from him; a rhythm of moans that matched the slap of skin against skin, the wet squelch of oil and the slick heat of their bodies coming together.

Your own breath had quickened, your cunt still throbbing with each pulse of residual pleasure, and the sight before you. Valarr opened his eyes, his gaze finding yours, and the corner of his mouth curved. His hips never faltered, the brutal rhythm continuing as he held your gaze.

"You are going to cum again, princess," he said. "Aerion, help her."

The command cut through the haze in Aerion's mind. His hands moved before his thoughts could catch up, sliding down to grip your thighs, spreading them wider, lowering his head between your legs. A cry tore from your lips. He lapped at you in firm, steady strokes, his tongue dragging over the swollen bud. The taste of you, of your arousal, of his own release still pooled inside you, filled his mouth.

He couldn't think, couldn't process anything beyond the dual assault on his senses. Valarr's cock was still pounding into him, each thrust shoving his face deeper into your cunt, the pleasure was building in his gut, a tight coil that wound tighter with every drag of Valarr's cock across that spot inside him. His hips began to move — not just receiving, but meeting, pushing back against Valarr's thrusts, impaling himself deeper, harder, chasing the feeling with a desperation that was entirely instinctive.

"Fuck," Valarr hissed through clenched teeth, his rhythm faltering for half a beat before he reasserted control, driving in harder.

Your hand found Aerion's hair again. "You're making me feel so good," you breathed. The praise hit Aerion straight to the core, and he doubled his efforts, his tongue working your clit with renewed fury as though he could pull the orgasm from you by sheer force of will.

Your thighs clamped around his head, hips bucked up off the bed, as you came apart beneath him. The knowledge of it, that he had done this, sent him over the edge.

His own orgasm hit him like a seizure. His cock, untouched, bobbing beneath him with each of Valarr's thrusts, erupted — thick ropes of cum spurting across the sheets, his passage clenching so hard around Valarr's cock that the man above him cursed loudly, his hips stuttering. The grip of Aerion's spasming walls was relentless, milking him, and Valarr drove in once, twice, three more times; brutal, desperate thrusts, before he buried himself to the hilt and came.

Hot cum flooded Aerion's insides. He could feel it, the pulse of Valarr inside him, the warmth spreading deep, filling him, and the sound Valarr made was not a groan but something closer to a shout, raw and unfiltered, his hips jerking through the aftershocks. His hands tightened on Aerion's hips hard enough to bruise, and he held himself buried deep, riding out the waves of his release until his arms trembled and his breath came in ragged, open-mouthed gasps.

Silence. Aerion's face was still pressed against your thigh, his breath hot and uneven against your skin, his body trembling with the residual aftershocks of his untouched orgasm. Valarr's forehead dropped to the space between Aerion's shoulder blades, his own chest heaving.

A shiver ran through Aerion and he collapsed fully onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his face buried in the curve of your neck. Valarr collapsed to your other side, one arm thrown across his own face, his chest still rising and falling in uneven rhythm.

The three of you lay like that, a tangle of limbs and sweat and the mingled scents of sex and oil and release, and the fire burned lower, casting long shadows across the bed. Your hand moved lazily through Aerion's hair, your touch aimless and gentle, while your other hand found Valarr's forearm and rested there, a point of contact that said more than words.

Aerion stirred. He rolled off you with a grunt, lying on his back beside you, his arms spread, staring up at the bed's canopy. In the silence, the thoughts crept back. The wedding. The way his chest tightened every time he saw the two of you together and remembered that he was the addition, the extra, the one who had to be invited in.

He rolled onto his side. His forearm trembled as he propped himself up. "I love you." He said it to you both.

You sat up, wrapped an arm around his neck, and pulled him toward you, your mouth found his in a kiss that was soft and certain. "I love you," you said back. On his other side, Valarr reached across the space between you and took Aerion's hand. His grip was firm, his fingers lacing through Aerion's.

"You need not question your position here. The three of us are bound to each other. "Forever."

Something shifted in Aerion's face. The tension in his jaw eased, and the tightness around his eyes softened. Valarr flopped back onto the bed. You shifted, throwing a leg over Aerion's hips, and settled against him, your head resting on his chest. His arms came around you instinctively, holding you close, fingers traced lazy patterns along your spine. Behind you, Valarr pressed against your back, his mouth finding the curve of your shoulder and placing a line of gentle kisses along your skin.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling the three of you into a single warm tangle of limbs, and he reached down to grasp the edge of the covers, dragging them up over sweat-dampened skin.

Aerion's heartbeat steadied; he closed his eyes and let the darkness take him, unafraid for once of what he might find when he woke.

[wolfbluebird]

Calm in my Claim

ABO AU

Alpha WandaNat x Omega Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: Your first showing was stressful, being bought by two alphas who can’t stop looking at you - it should make you uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. From first cuddles to your first time, you find out what it’s like to really be owned and loved.

TW: Smut, Fingering (R receive), slight orgasm denial (if you squint), penetration, double penetration, knotting, choking (maybe?)

Men and Minors DNI

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

Your first showing feels like a dream you haven’t quite woken up from — too bright around the edges, too loud, too scented with the pheromones of alphas who stare like they already own you. The velvet curtains are heavy behind you, pressing that reality into place.

You swallow hard, stepping out into the auction hall. Everything quiets in a strange, unnerving wave, like your scent reached the crowd before you did.

But among the rows of alphas assessing you with greedy or bored eyes, two figures stand out immediately.

Not because they’re famous.
Not because they’re powerful.

But because the moment they look at you, something inside your chest answers.

Wanda Maximoff — her gaze warm, soft, and startlingly gentle.
Natasha Romanoff — sharp-eyed, leaning back with a half-smirk like she already knows exactly how this ends.

You tell yourself to look away, but you can’t.

Natasha nudges Wanda with her elbow, murmuring something you can’t hear. Wanda doesn’t laugh — but her lips curl into a smile so tender it nearly knocks the breath out of you.

They’re already focused on you.
Like they’ve seen hundreds of omegas walk across this stage and not one of them mattered until now.

You inhale shakily, and Wanda’s eyes soften further, as if she can sense the spike of nerves.

You have to speak, you remind yourself when the auctioneer asks if you’re ready.

“I… yes,” you manage, voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha’s eyes light up at the sound, like your voice is a gift.

———

The numbers start low. They always do.

“Twenty thousand.”
“Forty.”

Then Natasha’s voice cuts through the murmuring crowd, smooth and lazy:

“Fifty.”

A collective shift of attention. Even the auctioneer hesitates.

Then the hostile alpha — the one whose scent reeks of bitterness and frustrated dominance — snaps:

“Seventy.”

Your breath stutters. Something about his gaze makes your stomach knot.

Wanda’s expression changes. Her eyes narrow, protective in a way that sends a strange warmth through your chest.

“One hundred,” she says.

The hall reacts with shock. The couple never bids. Never competes.

The not-so-nice alpha stands, glaring at you like you’re spoiling something for him.

“Two hundred.”

Natasha laughs under her breath and leans forward, elbows on her knees, eyes locked on yours.

“Three-fifty.”

The crowd gasps.

The hostile alpha snarls. “Five hundred.”

Wanda barely waits a beat. “Six.”

Silence.

The man sits down, jaw clenched, scent souring the air.

Sold.

Your knees nearly give out.

———

You were held in a back room at first. Then after ten minutes, the two alphas walked in with a natural air of dominance it made you do a double take.

They didn’t look at you like they’d won a prize, or like you were some sort of prey animal. If anything they looked at you as if you’re something worth looking at.

Natasha opens the door of the sleek black car for you herself, which immediately feels wrong, someone with her status doesn’t do that.

But she only wiggles her eyebrows and says, “After you, sweetheart.”

You’re startled into a tiny laugh, and Natasha looks disproportionately pleased with herself.

You slide into the plush seat, letting out a slow breath as the door closes and soft light fills the interior. Wanda slips in beside you with elegant ease, her presence warm and comforting.

She waits a moment before speaking, giving you time to breathe.

“If you’d like the window down,” she says gently, “or extra space, or water — you just ask. Your comfort matters.”

You blink at her, taken aback by the sincerity. “Thank you. I… I’m okay. Just overwhelmed.”

Natasha clicks her tongue playfully as she settles on your other side. “Of course you are. That room was full of idiots.”

Wanda nudges her. “Natasha.”

“What? I’m being considerate.” She turns back to you. “You handled it better than most omegas I’ve seen.”

Your cheeks heat. “…Really?”

“Really,” they answer in unison.

Wanda’s hand hovers near yours. She doesn’t touch — she waits.

“May I?” she asks softly.

You nod before you even think about it. Her fingers lace with yours gently, like you’re something precious.

Natasha watches the contact, her playful smile softening into something warmer. “We meant what we said back there. You feel… different.”

You swallow. “Different how?”

Natasha leans her head on the seat, eyes tracing your face. “The kind of different that makes my heart do weird things.”

Wanda adds, quieter, “The kind that feels like coming home.”

Your breath catches. “But you don’t even know me yet.”

“Not yet,” Wanda agrees, curling her thumb against the back of your hand. “But we will.”

Natasha winks. “Unless you decide you hate us. Then we’ll drop you off somewhere nice with a very expensive gift basket.”

You laugh, genuinely this time. “I don’t think I’m going to hate you.”

The two alphas exchange a look that is nothing short of radiant.

———

The elevator doors open into a breathtaking open-layout home with windows stretching floor to ceiling, the city glittering below.

You take one step inside and freeze.

“It’s okay,” Wanda murmurs, her hand still in yours. “New spaces can be overwhelming for omegas after a showing. Take your time.”

Natasha crouches beside the bags she picked up from the concierge desk. “We got you a few things. Essentials. Some clothes. Snacks. Wanda went overboard.”

Wanda glares at her mate, flushing. “I didn’t know what she’d like.”

Your heart twists. “That’s… really thoughtful. Thank you. Both of you.”

Wanda beams at the praise, and Natasha laughs under her breath. “You just made her whole week.”

Wanda mutters, “Natasha,” and you can’t help but smile again.

———

They don’t just feed you.
They dote on you.

Wanda cooks, actual homemade food that smells like comfort and warmth and everything good. Natasha hovers around you, bringing water, adjusting the lights, making sure you’re not too hot or too cold.

At one point you murmur, “You don’t have to do all this.”

Wanda sets a gentle hand on your shoulder. “We want to. You’re ours now… not anyone else’s. And we take care of what we own.” The words are soft, yet the possessiveness undertone is hard to ignore.

Natasha leans her cheek into her palm and grins at you. “Plus, you’re cute when you eat.”

You nearly choke, the slightest hint of pink tints your cheeks and you muffle something unintelligible that made the two alphas smirk.

———

Then, they both led you to the bathroom. Wanda’s fingers laced with yours like it was natural, Natasha’s hand pressed against your lower back like a silent promise.

They don’t join you, they don’t even offer. Instead, they run the bath, test the water, and set fluffy towels within reach.

Wanda’s voice is soft at the doorframe. “If you want privacy, we’ll be down the hall. If you need help with anything, anything at all, just call.”

Natasha adds, “And if the scents from earlier are sticking to you, the soaps in there will help.”

You look between them, feeling awkward and warm and safe all at once.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Really. I… didn’t expect any of this.”

Natasha’s smile softens. “That’s okay. We’ll show you.”

Wanda finishes, “There’s no rush for anything. Tonight is about you resting.”

When they leave and you sink into the warm water, something inside you unwinds in a way you can’t remember feeling before.

Afterwards, wrapped in a robe Wanda insisted on warming for you, you wander into the living room. The alphas are lounging on the couch, space between them deliberately kept open.

Wanda pats the spot. “If you want to join us?”

Your voice comes out shy. “Can I?”

Natasha snorts. “We were hoping you would.”

You settle between them, shoulders brushing. Their scents are calm, soothing, protective — and you feel yourself relax so fully you almost melt into the couch.

A long moment passes.

Then, softly, you say, “I… think I like being here.”

Wanda’s fingers gently brush your arm. “We like you here too.”

Natasha shifts just enough for her thigh to touch yours. “Get some rest, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

Your eyes flutter shut.

Their scents wrap around you like a blanket as the city lights glow outside.

And for the first time in a long time you feel safe.

The morning after the showing, you wake slowly in a room you don’t recognize. The bed is soft, the sheets warm, and sunlight pours in gently through gauzy curtains. It takes a moment for the memories to collect — the auction, the bidding war, Wanda’s soothing voice, Natasha’s teasing confidence. The car ride. The way their scents made your pulse slow instead of spike.

On the nightstand beside you is a small folded note. Wanda’s handwriting curls neatly across the page.

We let you sleep in. There’s food waiting whenever you’re ready.
Come find us. No rush.
— W & N

The simple kindness of it makes your throat tighten.

When you drift out into the open kitchen, Natasha lifts both arms like she’s spotted a long-lost friend. “There she is! Our sleeping beauty.”

Wanda gives her a look, though she’s smiling softly as she plates food. “Natasha.”

“What? I’m being welcoming.”

You sit down, cheeks warm. “I, um… good morning.”

Wanda slides a plate in front of you with the gentleness of someone placing something fragile. “Eat as much or as little as you want. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made a few things.”

“A few?” Natasha snorts, waving a hand at the absurd spread of dishes. “This is a diplomatic buffet.”

You laugh quietly — and Wanda glows as if you handed her a gift.

Those first few days settle into a careful rhythm. You stay in the guest room without pressure to move. Wanda always knocks softly before entering. Natasha announces herself loudly enough that you hear her halfway down the hall.

They never crowd you, never loom the way some alphas do. You realize quickly that Wanda’s patience is bone-deep — she asks before every touch, every closeness. Natasha is bold, but she reins herself in beautifully, offering light teasing taps to your shoulder or a wink across the room but waiting for you to initiate anything more.

It doesn’t take long for you to start gravitating toward them on your own.

One lazy afternoon, you’re curled on the couch reading. Wanda sits beside you with a gardening book, her knee barely brushing yours. Every now and then, she glances at you with that soft maternal fondness that makes your cheeks warm. Natasha lounges on the opposite end, feet propped up, pretending not to watch you even though she absolutely is.

You close your book with a sigh. “I… like it here.”

Natasha immediately straightens, eyes lighting. “Yeah?”

Wanda’s face softens. “We’re glad. Truly.”

Over the next while — not days, not even weeks, just time thick and warm and steady, the penthouse becomes familiar. Comforting.

Wanda teaches you how to care for the balcony plants. She names each one like old friends and beams when you remember them. She’s patient, always guiding your hands lightly, her scent warm like cinnamon and hearthfire.

Natasha shows you her workout routine, exaggerating her flexing until you’re doubled over laughing. She jumps to your side the moment you wobble on a machine, steadying you with large warm hands but stepping back as soon as you’re stable again.

Once, she scoops you up bridal-style simply because “you looked like you needed elevation.” You shriek and cling to her shoulders, and she laughs, bright and smug, while Wanda sighs in the background but fails to hide her smile.

Dinner becomes a shared ritual. Wanda cooks tender, aromatic meals that fill the whole penthouse with warmth. Natasha steals ingredients when Wanda isn’t looking. You stir a pot, bumping elbows with them, and their scents mix in the air — not overwhelming, just present. Familiar.

One evening, you pause mid-stir and say, half-joking but not really, “You two are trying to domesticate me.”

Natasha grins like she’s been caught. “Maybe we are.”

Wanda flushes so sweetly it makes your stomach flutter.

You grow more comfortable with their scents as time passes. It starts with you sitting between them during a movie because “you smell nice,” you admit without thinking. Natasha nearly drops the bowl of popcorn. Wanda goes pink to the tips of her ears.

Another night, a wave of leftover fear hits you out of nowhere — the memory of the auction room, the hostile alpha, the feeling of being on display. You sit on the couch and try to breathe through it, but your hands shake.

“Hey,” Natasha murmurs gently, crouching in front of you. “What do you need?”

You swallow. “I… Wanda? Could I…?”

Wanda is beside you instantly. “You can always ask. May I hold you?”

Your nod is tiny but certain.

She gathers you slowly, her arms warm and secure. Her scent blooms, enveloping you in a soothing, maternal wave that eases the tremor in your chest. Natasha joins on your other side, rubbing slow circles on your back, her voice low and steady as she says, “We’ve got you, omega.”

And you believe them.

You fall asleep there again — tucked safely between them. When you wake much later with your cheek on Wanda’s shoulder and Natasha’s hand resting lightly on your knee, neither alpha pretends it was inconvenient. Wanda only smiles sleepily and whispers, “Good morning, honey,” while Natasha yawns and says, “Best nap ever.”

The shift in the air after that is subtle but undeniable.

You start seeking them out on purpose — leaning into Wanda’s side when she reads, poking Natasha in the ribs when she teases you, curling between them during lazy evenings without hesitation.

One rainy night, the three of you sit under a shared blanket on the couch, the city smudged behind fogged-up windows. Wanda strokes your hair absentmindedly. Natasha twirls a loose thread on your sleeve.

Quiet settles thick and warm, until you whisper, almost too softly to hear:

“I think… I think I’m starting to feel like I belong here.”

Both alphas freeze — but not in fear.

Wanda’s hand cups your cheek gently, her thumb brushing your skin like you might vanish. Her voice shakes just a little. “We want you to belong here. Truly.”

Natasha leans closer, her expression more earnest than you’ve ever seen it. “We want you, sweetheart. Not because of the bidding. Not because of obligation. Because… you fit with us.”

Your breath stutters. Your scent wavers, shy and warm.

Wanda inhales sharply. Natasha’s fingers curl in the blanket. You can feel tension tightening between them — hopeful, restrained, desperate to be patient for you.

“…Not tonight,” Wanda whispers, though her eyes are dark with emotion. “We won’t rush you.”

Natasha nods slowly, brushing a knuckle along your jaw. “But when you’re ready — fully ready — just tell us. And we’ll show you exactly how wanted you are.”

Your heartbeat hammers.

“…I think I’ll be ready soon,” you murmur.

Both alphas inhale at the same moment, a sound you feel deep in your bones.

But Wanda only presses her forehead to yours, breathing in your scent with aching tenderness.

“We’ll wait,” she promises.

Natasha leans in, voice low, delighted, almost trembling. “For you? We’d wait forever.”

And between them — warm, safe, wanted — you finally let your eyes close.

The moment is coming. But right now is soft. Right now is home.

———

Though, they didn’t have to wait that long.

You’d been quiet all week, avoiding their eyes, their scents, rooms that you knew they’d be in.

The alphas didn’t quite understand. Sure, they’d never had an omega before you. Weren’t exactly sure what this behaviour was and definitely didn’t know how to ask without sounding like fools.

Some random nature documentary was playing on the television, you’d fell asleep on the couch hours ago, but the couple didn’t leave your side nor did they attempt to move you.

Wanda was reading a book she’d bought months ago, Natasha was playing a game on her phone that she was only half paying attention too. Everything was quiet, until a low unmistakable whine escaped your sleeping throat.

They thought they’d imagined it at first, even stared at you for a solid minute just to make sure that you were okay. But the beads of sweat that was collecting on your head, and the way your body seemed to be tremble on a microscopic scale caught their attention.

Carefully, Natasha lifted you from the couch - your body overheated and clammy, your scent releasing a sweetness the pair have never smelt before. Wanda carefully turned off all the lights before following Natasha and your still sleeping form to the shared master bedroom.

The scent hit them properly the moment they crossed the bedroom threshold.

Both alphas slowed, instincts snapping sharp and immediate. Heat. Full, undeniable, textbook heat. Wanda’s grip on the doorframe tightened just slightly, Natasha’s spine going rigid as she adjusted her hold on you without even thinking about it.

You woke up naturally, the two alphas sat by your side - nose deep against your scent glands. A pitiful whimper escaping your lips as you instinctively spread you legs, looking at them both with a desperate glint in your soft eyes. “Please..” You whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Both of the Alphas’ eyes nearly turn completely black at your small plea and request, a growl building in both of their chests.

“Oh, baby girl…” Natasha practically purrs, her hand finding your hip.

“We got you.” Wanda assures, giving you a little squeeze.

Both Alphas are on you, their hands everywhere they can reach. They leave kisses all over you, from your neck to your chest.

“You’ve got us for the next few days, little pup.” Wanda whispers softly into your ear.

“We’ll make sure you’re completely looked after by the end of it.” Natasha promises, beginning to help disrobe you along with Wanda.

The two girls made quick work of your clothes before they had you lying on the bed. They both waste not a moment removing their own clothes. Both of them stand near you on either side of the bed as they do so, their eyes raking over every inch of your bare form. And from the hungry looks on their faces, there’s no question how little they’re willing to share you.

Wanda is the first one back onto the bed, climbing onto it and straddling your waist as she looks down at you with lust-filled eyes. Natasha follows closely behind, slotting behind your head and running her fingers through your hair and over the soft skin of your neck.

“You’re already whining so much…”

Natasha notes, her fingers ghosting down your cheek and stopping to hold your jaw in place.

Wanda, meanwhile, is working her way down your body, leaving small little marks on your skin as she goes. She stops at your chest, taking one of your nipples in her mouth, which earns a moan from deep in your throat. Behind you, Natasha’s fingers go down to your neck and press lightly against your neck where your mating mark from both Alpha’s soon will be.

Wanda’s hand slide down your sides as she flicks her tongue over your nipple and Natasha’s fingers brush against your neck, pressing lightly into your mating gland. A shiver runs down your spine at all the attention your most sensitive spots are receiving. Beneath them you begin to squirm desperately, clenching around nothing and aching to be filled.

“Needy little girl, huh?”

Wanda releases your nipple with an audible pop before she continues further down, spreading your legs as she goes and settling between them. Natasha moves to your neck, grazing her teeth against your mating gland

”That’s it, baby…” she murmurs, her fingers still dancing across your neck as she holds you in place.

Down between your legs, Wanda inhales deeply, closing her eyes and moaning as your scent hits her. She looks back up at you with a hungry look in her eyes.

Before you can even get out a sound, one of Wanda’s fingers slide inside of you, already sliding in so easily thanks to your slick. Almost simultaneously, Natasha’s fingers press harder against your neck.

“So wet and open.” Wanda purrs under her breath.

“You’re already so willing and ready for us.” adds Natasha, her fingers pressing harder against your neck, her Alpha pheromones filling the room.

Between your heat and the sheer amount of Alpha pheromones now filling the room, your head feels like it’s swimming at the intensity. Wanda slides another finger inside of you, pumping in and out as her tongue swirls around your clit. You’re practically writhing beneath both Alpha’s, struggling not to move your neck too much to stop Natasha from holding it in place. You’re whining and trying to speak.

“Please…”

Wanda and Natasha both smirk simultaneously at your desperate pleas.

“Please what, pup?” Natasha asks, her fingers suddenly squeezing around your neck once more, cutting off your airways for a moment.

Wanda’s fingers press against one of your inner walls, making you see white spots for a moment.

“Use your words.” Wanda purrs. It was all you could do not to start whimpering and mewling at both their actions.

You try to get a word out but can’t seem to get anything but incoherent moans to come from your mouth. So, instead, you try to use your body to speak for you. Your hips try desperately to grind against Wanda’s fingers.

“I think she’s desperate to be filled… isn’t that right, little puppy?” Natasha croons.

Wanda and Natasha both let out a breathy chuckle at your attempts to speak when all you can do is desperately whine. Natasha’s hand stays around your neck as Wanda picks up the pace.

“I think you’re right, Tasha…” Wanda’s voice is barely louder than a whisper, already knowing you’re well beyond the point of being able to hold a normal conversation.

Behind your head, Natasha suddenly removes her fingers from your neck, allowing you to breathe properly again. Her hand slides around to your mouth and you let out a gasp, only to be cut off as two fingers make their way into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue, stifling your moans.

“Such a needy little thing..” *Natasha mumbles. Beneath you, Wanda slides a third finger inside your core.

The stretch of your pussy around Wanda’s fingers has you whining around Natasha’s. You’re trying desperately to speak against her but it just comes out as garbled words. Your hands are gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles are turning white, your breathing is shallow and the pressure building inside you is becoming unbearable.

“You’re doing so well, pup.” Wanda assures, speeding up the movements of her fingers slightly.

You feel Natasha pull her fingers out of your mouth and sit back a little. She slides her thumb across your bottom lip before turning her attention on Wanda. She runs her fingers through her mates hair and cups her jaw in her palm.

“Wands…”

“I know..”

The two of them share a look that could only be known by the other. You feel Wanda’s fingers leave your core and her body remove itself from between your legs.

You try to take a gulp of air in at the sudden emptiness and try to sit up but Natasha pushes you back down. This time her hand is on your chest, pinning you to the bed. Natasha moves herself between your legs, pressing her hips up against your core and you whine at the feeling of her hard, leaking cock against you.

“Such a needy little puppy.” Natasha hums.

Just as you start to try and move your hips to create some sort of friction, Natasha’s hands grip your hips and still them. A growl rises from her chest at your movements.

“No. Stop being a brat.” She scolds. Before you can protest even more, she’s lining up the tip of her cock with your wet hole. You whine again, trying to squirm in her grip and try to get her inside you.

But Natasha is holding onto you tightly, keeping you where she wants you. Slowly, she starts to push in, inch by inch, making your head go blank as your fingers grip the sheets tighter.

“That’s it.” She grumbles, keeping track in until her pelvis is pressed up against you.

You try to speak but your words turn into an incoherent moans. Wanda sits beside you on the bed, stroking your hair as you squirm a little.

“Just focus on feeling it.” Wanda instructs, giving you a comforting smile. “Can you do that for me, puppy?”

Before you can even try to reply, Natasha slides almost all the way out and then quickly back in, making you moan loudly.

“There there… good girl.” Wanda murmurs, running her fingers through your hair in a soothing manner.

Natasha sets a rough pace, filling you to the brim with each brutal thrust. She’s growling and panting as she uses you, her fingers digging into your hips and her nails just barely break skin.

“Such a good girl…” she moans. “Taking my cock like a good little puppy..”

Wanda nods in agreement. “She’s a good girl. Isn’t she, Nat?” She asks, glancing over at her wife.

“Such a good girl.” Natasha grumbles. “So obedient..”

Wanda leans down, leaving soft kisses all over your face, down your neck and onto your chest. Her hands are still stroking your hair, trying to sooth you. Natasha is still pounding into you, her movements becoming harder but a little less coordinated.

“Don’t you want to come, pup?” She asks. “Is that what you want?”

“Just ask..” Wanda instructs.

Your head is spinning and your brain feels fuzzy. You tried to form any coherent thought but they just won’t come out. So, instead, you nod

“Please..” You manage to whine.

Wanda nods and turns back to Natasha. “Let her come.” Her voice is authoritative enough to make your brain focus for a brief moment before a particular harsh thrust makes you cry out.

“Good girl.” Natasha grunts. She gives a few more rougher thrusts, her fingernails practically drawing blood on your hips now. Then, when she’s just on the edge, she gives a few final hard thrusts, pressing herself as far into you as possible and moaning your name loudly as she finally comes.

A moment of satisfaction washes over Natasha’s face as her she pants for a second, holding herself still as her cum paints the inside of your puffy cunt.

But then, before she’s even had a moment to recover, she starts to grow inside you. You can still feeling her length twitching as it continues to throb, but it quickly starts to swell up as her knot starts to swell. ”Oh fuuuuck… you feel that little omega…?” She groans whilst her hips twitch.

The sudden growing pressure inside you has your hands reaching up to grab onto Natasha’s shoulders. You’re gripping onto her tightly as she grows locked inside you.

“Sshhh…” Wanda soothes, noticing your face contorting at the feeling. “Sshh… breathe…” she instructs in an almost motherly tone.

Despite you whining and clenching around her knot, Natasha leans over you, her teeth grazing over your mating gland. You feel her breath against it as you wait for a moment.

“You’re such a good girl,” she murmurs, nipping at the skin just enough to make you whimper.

After another moment and a particularly hard twitch from Natasha’s knot, she gives your mating gland a vicious bite and breaks the skin. A rush of pleasure and ecstasy washes over you as your first bond mark is planted.

“Such a brave little girl..” Wanda coos.

Wanda had moved so she’s sat against the headboard of the bed. You’re still sandwiched between the two Alpha’s. Natasha is still tied to you but she’s able to keep you spread open for Wanda.

“Stay still, pup.” Wanda instructs. “Let momma look after you too..”

Wanda strokes your hair once more before one of her hands slides up your thigh. You feel her fingers spread open your ass before she’s pressing up against your already occupied cunt. A yelp slips from your mouth, making Natasha growl and bite down on your neck to shut you up.

Wanda slides into you slowly, filling you even more than before. You whine and grip onto Natasha even harder. The brunette alpha lets out a groan of satisfaction as she bottoms out.

“Jesus Christ…” she breathes out. Natasha pulls her mouth away from your neck.

“She’s tight, right?”

“God, so tight.” Wanda grunts, her hands gripping your hips.

Natasha nods, her eyes shutting and a moan escaping her. “I think she’s still so sensitive… from before.”

The two Alpha’s begin to slowly move.

The two Alpha’s move together, their movements in practiced sync as they keep you impaled on their cocks. You’re panting and moaning, their names mixing together in your mouth.

“Can you take it, pup?” Wanda asks between her heavy breaths.

Natasha presses her hand onto your abdomen, feeling her own cock pushing up against the skin. You nod, trying to speak, but all you can get out is one word. “Y-yes.”

“Good girl..” Natasha purrs. “Such a good puppy.” Wanda’s hands tighten their hold on your hips, holding you in place as the two of them pick up the pace.

The two Alpha’s are growing rougher with their pace now, their hips smacking into your skin as the bed starts to creak beneath them. Your breaths and moans are getting shorter and more needy with every thrust.

Wanda wraps her hand around your neck again, her fingers applying a little pressure, making you see little white spots again. Natasha’s fingers are grazing your mating mark, making it burn and tingle. ”You’re doing so good, little puppy.” Natasha praises.

Your whole body seems to be on fire with pleasure. Your brain is fuzzy again and your stomach is clenching tighter and tighter.

“So good, momma.” You manage to whine.

At the little honorific, the Alpha’s seem to take that as a praise, their movements getting rougher. They’re both panting and groaning heavily. Natasha’s fingers dig into your skin as she holds you steady while Wanda’s grip on your neck tightens even more.

You’re getting closer and closer to the edge. Your moans are getting louder and needier as you try to speak.

“Please. Please…” You practically beg.

Both of the Alpha’s nod at you, understanding exactly what you’re trying to say. They pick up the pace even more. Wanda tightens her fingers around your neck, cutting off your breathing for a moment.

“Come, pup.” She instructs.

Wanda’s words and the pressure on your neck from both Alpha’s’ hands is all it takes, sending you over the edge. A strangled cry comes from you and you squeeze your eyes shut as you come.

The two Alpha’s keep working through your orgasm, continuing to chase their own. They’re getting sloppy and rougher now. Natasha’s fingers still gripping onto your hip and holding you in place. Wanda’s hand holds your neck tighter.

“We’re almost there.” Natasha moans.

Wanda lets out a long groan right after, her hips snapping up into you. Her face is flushed a dark pink, her lips parted as she pants. Behind you, Natasha is the last to come. Her whole body tenses up as her knot starts to swell in you.

“Oh- Oh, f-fuck.” She moans and pants against your neck. She’s panting your scent in like it’s the last breath she’ll ever take.

After what feels like forever, both Alpha’s collapse down on the bed with themselves and you. All three of you are panting and trying to catch your breaths. Wanda is still holding your neck while Natasha is still holding your hip.

“Such a good puppy.” Natasha praises.

You let out a shaky laugh, your chest rising and falling as the world slowly stops spinning. Wanda presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, murmuring softly, “Shh… you’re okay. You’re safe. Right here with us.”

Natasha’s hand never leaves your hip, rubbing soothing circles, grounding you. “Look at you,” she whispers, voice low and calm. “You did so well. So, so well.”

Wanda shifts slightly, draping a soft blanket over all three of you, tucking you snugly between them. You feel the warmth seep into your bones, the weight of the blanket like a soft shield from the world. Natasha adjusts your position, nudging your head closer to Wanda’s chest. “There, right there,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “That’s better, little one. Safe.”

Your muscles tremble slightly from the adrenaline, and Wanda brushes her fingers along your arms, slow, gentle strokes that feel like they’re melting the tension out of you. “You’re ours,” she whispers, “and we’re never letting go.”

Natasha hums softly in agreement, a quiet, steady vibration that travels through your chest. She moves her hand from your hip to your side, thumb brushing soothing circles across your ribs. “We’ll take care of you,” she murmurs. “Everything you need, whenever you need it.”

You nuzzle into Wanda’s chest, listening to her heartbeat, the steady rhythm like a lullaby. She runs her fingers through your hair, untangling stray strands, brushing the sweat from your forehead, tucking hair behind your ears with gentle precision. “Such a good little omega,” she coos, voice thick with affection. “We’ve got every piece of you.”

Natasha slides a hand under your shoulders, giving a small supportive lift so you’re nestled perfectly between them. “You can rest now,” she whispers, pressing her cheek to yours. “Just breathe. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

Wanda shifts again, adjusting the blanket so it covers your feet, pulling it up over your shoulders without breaking the gentle hold on your neck. She brushes her thumb along your jawline, tracing little circles. “Want some water?” she asks softly. “Or maybe a little snack?”

Natasha reaches for a water bottle from the nightstand and holds it to your lips. “There,” she says, guiding it so you can sip without straining. “Take your time. We’re not going anywhere.” She watches you carefully, eyes soft, her hand never leaving yours. “That’s it. Good. Easy.”

You take a few slow sips, feeling the cool water slide down your throat, every swallow grounding you more. Wanda leans down, pressing her lips to your forehead, murmuring, “See? You’re safe. Right here, right now. That’s all that matters.”

Natasha hums again, running a finger along your arm and down to hold your hand. “We’re proud of you,” she says softly. “Every little bit of you. You were amazing.”

Wanda lifts your chin gently, brushing your hair away from your face. “Do you want me to brush your hair?” she asks, already reaching for a soft brush. You nod slightly, too tired to speak. She kneels behind your head and starts brushing slowly, deliberately, the bristles gliding through tangles, each stroke grounding you further.

Natasha leans close, pressing kisses to the top of your head, your temple, your shoulder. “So good,” she whispers. “So loved. So safe.” Her hands move to adjust the blanket around your body, making sure you’re fully cocooned in warmth.

Wanda hums a quiet tune, brushing your hair and letting her fingers trail down your arms, over your shoulders, across your back in calming strokes. “Shh… just rest,” she murmurs. “We’ll stay right here. Always.”

You feel yourself start to drift, heavy with sleep and safety. Natasha notices and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Go on,” she says softly. “Dream. Rest. We’ve got all of you.”

Wanda’s hand slides to hold yours, thumbs tracing soothing patterns across your knuckles. “We’ll keep you warm,” she whispers. “We’ll keep you safe. And when you wake, we’ll still be here. Every time.”

Natasha brushes a finger along your cheek. “We’re yours, little one. All of us. Every part of you. Never alone.”

You nestle fully between them, letting the exhaustion finally win. Their warmth, their soft touches, their steady breaths… everything melts together into a cocoon that feels unbreakable. Every little worry drifts away, replaced with safety, love, and an almost dizzying sense of being completely cherished.

Wanda presses one last kiss to the top of your head as you drift off, whispering, “Sleep, little one. We’ll be right here.”

Natasha hums softly, holding your hand and stroking your back. “Always,” she murmurs. “Always here.”

And finally, with both Alphas holding you, soothing you, keeping you safe, you let yourself sink fully into sleep, into warmth, into love, knowing that nothing could ever reach you here.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

Won by Youam

ABO AU

Alpha WandaNat x Omega Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: Your first showing was stressful, being bought by two alphas who can’t stop looking at you - it should make you uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. From first cuddles to your first time, you find out what it’s like to really be owned and loved.

TW: Smut, Fingering (R receive), slight orgasm denial (if you squint), penetration, double penetration, knotting, choking (maybe?)

Men and Minors DNI

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

Your first showing feels like a dream you haven’t quite woken up from — too bright around the edges, too loud, too scented with the pheromones of alphas who stare like they already own you. The velvet curtains are heavy behind you, pressing that reality into place.

You swallow hard, stepping out into the auction hall. Everything quiets in a strange, unnerving wave, like your scent reached the crowd before you did.

But among the rows of alphas assessing you with greedy or bored eyes, two figures stand out immediately.

Not because they’re famous.
Not because they’re powerful.

But because the moment they look at you, something inside your chest answers.

Wanda Maximoff — her gaze warm, soft, and startlingly gentle.
Natasha Romanoff — sharp-eyed, leaning back with a half-smirk like she already knows exactly how this ends.

You tell yourself to look away, but you can’t.

Natasha nudges Wanda with her elbow, murmuring something you can’t hear. Wanda doesn’t laugh — but her lips curl into a smile so tender it nearly knocks the breath out of you.

They’re already focused on you.
Like they’ve seen hundreds of omegas walk across this stage and not one of them mattered until now.

You inhale shakily, and Wanda’s eyes soften further, as if she can sense the spike of nerves.

You have to speak, you remind yourself when the auctioneer asks if you’re ready.

“I… yes,” you manage, voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha’s eyes light up at the sound, like your voice is a gift.

———

The numbers start low. They always do.

“Twenty thousand.”
“Forty.”

Then Natasha’s voice cuts through the murmuring crowd, smooth and lazy:

“Fifty.”

A collective shift of attention. Even the auctioneer hesitates.

Then the hostile alpha — the one whose scent reeks of bitterness and frustrated dominance — snaps:

“Seventy.”

Your breath stutters. Something about his gaze makes your stomach knot.

Wanda’s expression changes. Her eyes narrow, protective in a way that sends a strange warmth through your chest.

“One hundred,” she says.

The hall reacts with shock. The couple never bids. Never competes.

The not-so-nice alpha stands, glaring at you like you’re spoiling something for him.

“Two hundred.”

Natasha laughs under her breath and leans forward, elbows on her knees, eyes locked on yours.

“Three-fifty.”

The crowd gasps.

The hostile alpha snarls. “Five hundred.”

Wanda barely waits a beat. “Six.”

Silence.

The man sits down, jaw clenched, scent souring the air.

Sold.

Your knees nearly give out.

———

You were held in a back room at first. Then after ten minutes, the two alphas walked in with a natural air of dominance it made you do a double take.

They didn’t look at you like they’d won a prize, or like you were some sort of prey animal. If anything they looked at you as if you’re something worth looking at.

Natasha opens the door of the sleek black car for you herself, which immediately feels wrong, someone with her status doesn’t do that.

But she only wiggles her eyebrows and says, “After you, sweetheart.”

You’re startled into a tiny laugh, and Natasha looks disproportionately pleased with herself.

You slide into the plush seat, letting out a slow breath as the door closes and soft light fills the interior. Wanda slips in beside you with elegant ease, her presence warm and comforting.

She waits a moment before speaking, giving you time to breathe.

“If you’d like the window down,” she says gently, “or extra space, or water — you just ask. Your comfort matters.”

You blink at her, taken aback by the sincerity. “Thank you. I… I’m okay. Just overwhelmed.”

Natasha clicks her tongue playfully as she settles on your other side. “Of course you are. That room was full of idiots.”

Wanda nudges her. “Natasha.”

“What? I’m being considerate.” She turns back to you. “You handled it better than most omegas I’ve seen.”

Your cheeks heat. “…Really?”

“Really,” they answer in unison.

Wanda’s hand hovers near yours. She doesn’t touch — she waits.

“May I?” she asks softly.

You nod before you even think about it. Her fingers lace with yours gently, like you’re something precious.

Natasha watches the contact, her playful smile softening into something warmer. “We meant what we said back there. You feel… different.”

You swallow. “Different how?”

Natasha leans her head on the seat, eyes tracing your face. “The kind of different that makes my heart do weird things.”

Wanda adds, quieter, “The kind that feels like coming home.”

Your breath catches. “But you don’t even know me yet.”

“Not yet,” Wanda agrees, curling her thumb against the back of your hand. “But we will.”

Natasha winks. “Unless you decide you hate us. Then we’ll drop you off somewhere nice with a very expensive gift basket.”

You laugh, genuinely this time. “I don’t think I’m going to hate you.”

The two alphas exchange a look that is nothing short of radiant.

———

The elevator doors open into a breathtaking open-layout home with windows stretching floor to ceiling, the city glittering below.

You take one step inside and freeze.

“It’s okay,” Wanda murmurs, her hand still in yours. “New spaces can be overwhelming for omegas after a showing. Take your time.”

Natasha crouches beside the bags she picked up from the concierge desk. “We got you a few things. Essentials. Some clothes. Snacks. Wanda went overboard.”

Wanda glares at her mate, flushing. “I didn’t know what she’d like.”

Your heart twists. “That’s… really thoughtful. Thank you. Both of you.”

Wanda beams at the praise, and Natasha laughs under her breath. “You just made her whole week.”

Wanda mutters, “Natasha,” and you can’t help but smile again.

———

They don’t just feed you.
They dote on you.

Wanda cooks, actual homemade food that smells like comfort and warmth and everything good. Natasha hovers around you, bringing water, adjusting the lights, making sure you’re not too hot or too cold.

At one point you murmur, “You don’t have to do all this.”

Wanda sets a gentle hand on your shoulder. “We want to. You’re ours now… not anyone else’s. And we take care of what we own.” The words are soft, yet the possessiveness undertone is hard to ignore.

Natasha leans her cheek into her palm and grins at you. “Plus, you’re cute when you eat.”

You nearly choke, the slightest hint of pink tints your cheeks and you muffle something unintelligible that made the two alphas smirk.

———

Then, they both led you to the bathroom. Wanda’s fingers laced with yours like it was natural, Natasha’s hand pressed against your lower back like a silent promise.

They don’t join you, they don’t even offer. Instead, they run the bath, test the water, and set fluffy towels within reach.

Wanda’s voice is soft at the doorframe. “If you want privacy, we’ll be down the hall. If you need help with anything, anything at all, just call.”

Natasha adds, “And if the scents from earlier are sticking to you, the soaps in there will help.”

You look between them, feeling awkward and warm and safe all at once.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Really. I… didn’t expect any of this.”

Natasha’s smile softens. “That’s okay. We’ll show you.”

Wanda finishes, “There’s no rush for anything. Tonight is about you resting.”

When they leave and you sink into the warm water, something inside you unwinds in a way you can’t remember feeling before.

Afterwards, wrapped in a robe Wanda insisted on warming for you, you wander into the living room. The alphas are lounging on the couch, space between them deliberately kept open.

Wanda pats the spot. “If you want to join us?”

Your voice comes out shy. “Can I?”

Natasha snorts. “We were hoping you would.”

You settle between them, shoulders brushing. Their scents are calm, soothing, protective — and you feel yourself relax so fully you almost melt into the couch.

A long moment passes.

Then, softly, you say, “I… think I like being here.”

Wanda’s fingers gently brush your arm. “We like you here too.”

Natasha shifts just enough for her thigh to touch yours. “Get some rest, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

Your eyes flutter shut.

Their scents wrap around you like a blanket as the city lights glow outside.

And for the first time in a long time you feel safe.

The morning after the showing, you wake slowly in a room you don’t recognize. The bed is soft, the sheets warm, and sunlight pours in gently through gauzy curtains. It takes a moment for the memories to collect — the auction, the bidding war, Wanda’s soothing voice, Natasha’s teasing confidence. The car ride. The way their scents made your pulse slow instead of spike.

On the nightstand beside you is a small folded note. Wanda’s handwriting curls neatly across the page.

We let you sleep in. There’s food waiting whenever you’re ready.
Come find us. No rush.
— W & N

The simple kindness of it makes your throat tighten.

When you drift out into the open kitchen, Natasha lifts both arms like she’s spotted a long-lost friend. “There she is! Our sleeping beauty.”

Wanda gives her a look, though she’s smiling softly as she plates food. “Natasha.”

“What? I’m being welcoming.”

You sit down, cheeks warm. “I, um… good morning.”

Wanda slides a plate in front of you with the gentleness of someone placing something fragile. “Eat as much or as little as you want. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made a few things.”

“A few?” Natasha snorts, waving a hand at the absurd spread of dishes. “This is a diplomatic buffet.”

You laugh quietly — and Wanda glows as if you handed her a gift.

Those first few days settle into a careful rhythm. You stay in the guest room without pressure to move. Wanda always knocks softly before entering. Natasha announces herself loudly enough that you hear her halfway down the hall.

They never crowd you, never loom the way some alphas do. You realize quickly that Wanda’s patience is bone-deep — she asks before every touch, every closeness. Natasha is bold, but she reins herself in beautifully, offering light teasing taps to your shoulder or a wink across the room but waiting for you to initiate anything more.

It doesn’t take long for you to start gravitating toward them on your own.

One lazy afternoon, you’re curled on the couch reading. Wanda sits beside you with a gardening book, her knee barely brushing yours. Every now and then, she glances at you with that soft maternal fondness that makes your cheeks warm. Natasha lounges on the opposite end, feet propped up, pretending not to watch you even though she absolutely is.

You close your book with a sigh. “I… like it here.”

Natasha immediately straightens, eyes lighting. “Yeah?”

Wanda’s face softens. “We’re glad. Truly.”

Over the next while — not days, not even weeks, just time thick and warm and steady, the penthouse becomes familiar. Comforting.

Wanda teaches you how to care for the balcony plants. She names each one like old friends and beams when you remember them. She’s patient, always guiding your hands lightly, her scent warm like cinnamon and hearthfire.

Natasha shows you her workout routine, exaggerating her flexing until you’re doubled over laughing. She jumps to your side the moment you wobble on a machine, steadying you with large warm hands but stepping back as soon as you’re stable again.

Once, she scoops you up bridal-style simply because “you looked like you needed elevation.” You shriek and cling to her shoulders, and she laughs, bright and smug, while Wanda sighs in the background but fails to hide her smile.

Dinner becomes a shared ritual. Wanda cooks tender, aromatic meals that fill the whole penthouse with warmth. Natasha steals ingredients when Wanda isn’t looking. You stir a pot, bumping elbows with them, and their scents mix in the air — not overwhelming, just present. Familiar.

One evening, you pause mid-stir and say, half-joking but not really, “You two are trying to domesticate me.”

Natasha grins like she’s been caught. “Maybe we are.”

Wanda flushes so sweetly it makes your stomach flutter.

You grow more comfortable with their scents as time passes. It starts with you sitting between them during a movie because “you smell nice,” you admit without thinking. Natasha nearly drops the bowl of popcorn. Wanda goes pink to the tips of her ears.

Another night, a wave of leftover fear hits you out of nowhere — the memory of the auction room, the hostile alpha, the feeling of being on display. You sit on the couch and try to breathe through it, but your hands shake.

“Hey,” Natasha murmurs gently, crouching in front of you. “What do you need?”

You swallow. “I… Wanda? Could I…?”

Wanda is beside you instantly. “You can always ask. May I hold you?”

Your nod is tiny but certain.

She gathers you slowly, her arms warm and secure. Her scent blooms, enveloping you in a soothing, maternal wave that eases the tremor in your chest. Natasha joins on your other side, rubbing slow circles on your back, her voice low and steady as she says, “We’ve got you, omega.”

And you believe them.

You fall asleep there again — tucked safely between them. When you wake much later with your cheek on Wanda’s shoulder and Natasha’s hand resting lightly on your knee, neither alpha pretends it was inconvenient. Wanda only smiles sleepily and whispers, “Good morning, honey,” while Natasha yawns and says, “Best nap ever.”

The shift in the air after that is subtle but undeniable.

You start seeking them out on purpose — leaning into Wanda’s side when she reads, poking Natasha in the ribs when she teases you, curling between them during lazy evenings without hesitation.

One rainy night, the three of you sit under a shared blanket on the couch, the city smudged behind fogged-up windows. Wanda strokes your hair absentmindedly. Natasha twirls a loose thread on your sleeve.

Quiet settles thick and warm, until you whisper, almost too softly to hear:

“I think… I think I’m starting to feel like I belong here.”

Both alphas freeze — but not in fear.

Wanda’s hand cups your cheek gently, her thumb brushing your skin like you might vanish. Her voice shakes just a little. “We want you to belong here. Truly.”

Natasha leans closer, her expression more earnest than you’ve ever seen it. “We want you, sweetheart. Not because of the bidding. Not because of obligation. Because… you fit with us.”

Your breath stutters. Your scent wavers, shy and warm.

Wanda inhales sharply. Natasha’s fingers curl in the blanket. You can feel tension tightening between them — hopeful, restrained, desperate to be patient for you.

“…Not tonight,” Wanda whispers, though her eyes are dark with emotion. “We won’t rush you.”

Natasha nods slowly, brushing a knuckle along your jaw. “But when you’re ready — fully ready — just tell us. And we’ll show you exactly how wanted you are.”

Your heartbeat hammers.

“…I think I’ll be ready soon,” you murmur.

Both alphas inhale at the same moment, a sound you feel deep in your bones.

But Wanda only presses her forehead to yours, breathing in your scent with aching tenderness.

“We’ll wait,” she promises.

Natasha leans in, voice low, delighted, almost trembling. “For you? We’d wait forever.”

And between them — warm, safe, wanted — you finally let your eyes close.

The moment is coming. But right now is soft. Right now is home.

———

Though, they didn’t have to wait that long.

You’d been quiet all week, avoiding their eyes, their scents, rooms that you knew they’d be in.

The alphas didn’t quite understand. Sure, they’d never had an omega before you. Weren’t exactly sure what this behaviour was and definitely didn’t know how to ask without sounding like fools.

Some random nature documentary was playing on the television, you’d fell asleep on the couch hours ago, but the couple didn’t leave your side nor did they attempt to move you.

Wanda was reading a book she’d bought months ago, Natasha was playing a game on her phone that she was only half paying attention too. Everything was quiet, until a low unmistakable whine escaped your sleeping throat.

They thought they’d imagined it at first, even stared at you for a solid minute just to make sure that you were okay. But the beads of sweat that was collecting on your head, and the way your body seemed to be tremble on a microscopic scale caught their attention.

Carefully, Natasha lifted you from the couch - your body overheated and clammy, your scent releasing a sweetness the pair have never smelt before. Wanda carefully turned off all the lights before following Natasha and your still sleeping form to the shared master bedroom.

The scent hit them properly the moment they crossed the bedroom threshold.

Both alphas slowed, instincts snapping sharp and immediate. Heat. Full, undeniable, textbook heat. Wanda’s grip on the doorframe tightened just slightly, Natasha’s spine going rigid as she adjusted her hold on you without even thinking about it.

You woke up naturally, the two alphas sat by your side - nose deep against your scent glands. A pitiful whimper escaping your lips as you instinctively spread you legs, looking at them both with a desperate glint in your soft eyes. “Please..” You whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

Both of the Alphas’ eyes nearly turn completely black at your small plea and request, a growl building in both of their chests.

“Oh, baby girl…” Natasha practically purrs, her hand finding your hip.

“We got you.” Wanda assures, giving you a little squeeze.

Both Alphas are on you, their hands everywhere they can reach. They leave kisses all over you, from your neck to your chest.

“You’ve got us for the next few days, little pup.” Wanda whispers softly into your ear.

“We’ll make sure you’re completely looked after by the end of it.” Natasha promises, beginning to help disrobe you along with Wanda.

The two girls made quick work of your clothes before they had you lying on the bed. They both waste not a moment removing their own clothes. Both of them stand near you on either side of the bed as they do so, their eyes raking over every inch of your bare form. And from the hungry looks on their faces, there’s no question how little they’re willing to share you.

Wanda is the first one back onto the bed, climbing onto it and straddling your waist as she looks down at you with lust-filled eyes. Natasha follows closely behind, slotting behind your head and running her fingers through your hair and over the soft skin of your neck.

“You’re already whining so much…”

Natasha notes, her fingers ghosting down your cheek and stopping to hold your jaw in place.

Wanda, meanwhile, is working her way down your body, leaving small little marks on your skin as she goes. She stops at your chest, taking one of your nipples in her mouth, which earns a moan from deep in your throat. Behind you, Natasha’s fingers go down to your neck and press lightly against your neck where your mating mark from both Alpha’s soon will be.

Wanda’s hand slide down your sides as she flicks her tongue over your nipple and Natasha’s fingers brush against your neck, pressing lightly into your mating gland. A shiver runs down your spine at all the attention your most sensitive spots are receiving. Beneath them you begin to squirm desperately, clenching around nothing and aching to be filled.

“Needy little girl, huh?”

Wanda releases your nipple with an audible pop before she continues further down, spreading your legs as she goes and settling between them. Natasha moves to your neck, grazing her teeth against your mating gland

”That’s it, baby…” she murmurs, her fingers still dancing across your neck as she holds you in place.

Down between your legs, Wanda inhales deeply, closing her eyes and moaning as your scent hits her. She looks back up at you with a hungry look in her eyes.

Before you can even get out a sound, one of Wanda’s fingers slide inside of you, already sliding in so easily thanks to your slick. Almost simultaneously, Natasha’s fingers press harder against your neck.

“So wet and open.” Wanda purrs under her breath.

“You’re already so willing and ready for us.” adds Natasha, her fingers pressing harder against your neck, her Alpha pheromones filling the room.

Between your heat and the sheer amount of Alpha pheromones now filling the room, your head feels like it’s swimming at the intensity. Wanda slides another finger inside of you, pumping in and out as her tongue swirls around your clit. You’re practically writhing beneath both Alpha’s, struggling not to move your neck too much to stop Natasha from holding it in place. You’re whining and trying to speak.

“Please…”

Wanda and Natasha both smirk simultaneously at your desperate pleas.

“Please what, pup?” Natasha asks, her fingers suddenly squeezing around your neck once more, cutting off your airways for a moment.

Wanda’s fingers press against one of your inner walls, making you see white spots for a moment.

“Use your words.” Wanda purrs. It was all you could do not to start whimpering and mewling at both their actions.

You try to get a word out but can’t seem to get anything but incoherent moans to come from your mouth. So, instead, you try to use your body to speak for you. Your hips try desperately to grind against Wanda’s fingers.

“I think she’s desperate to be filled… isn’t that right, little puppy?” Natasha croons.

Wanda and Natasha both let out a breathy chuckle at your attempts to speak when all you can do is desperately whine. Natasha’s hand stays around your neck as Wanda picks up the pace.

“I think you’re right, Tasha…” Wanda’s voice is barely louder than a whisper, already knowing you’re well beyond the point of being able to hold a normal conversation.

Behind your head, Natasha suddenly removes her fingers from your neck, allowing you to breathe properly again. Her hand slides around to your mouth and you let out a gasp, only to be cut off as two fingers make their way into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue, stifling your moans.

“Such a needy little thing..” *Natasha mumbles. Beneath you, Wanda slides a third finger inside your core.

The stretch of your pussy around Wanda’s fingers has you whining around Natasha’s. You’re trying desperately to speak against her but it just comes out as garbled words. Your hands are gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles are turning white, your breathing is shallow and the pressure building inside you is becoming unbearable.

“You’re doing so well, pup.” Wanda assures, speeding up the movements of her fingers slightly.

You feel Natasha pull her fingers out of your mouth and sit back a little. She slides her thumb across your bottom lip before turning her attention on Wanda. She runs her fingers through her mates hair and cups her jaw in her palm.

“Wands…”

“I know..”

The two of them share a look that could only be known by the other. You feel Wanda’s fingers leave your core and her body remove itself from between your legs.

You try to take a gulp of air in at the sudden emptiness and try to sit up but Natasha pushes you back down. This time her hand is on your chest, pinning you to the bed. Natasha moves herself between your legs, pressing her hips up against your core and you whine at the feeling of her hard, leaking cock against you.

“Such a needy little puppy.” Natasha hums.

Just as you start to try and move your hips to create some sort of friction, Natasha’s hands grip your hips and still them. A growl rises from her chest at your movements.

“No. Stop being a brat.” She scolds. Before you can protest even more, she’s lining up the tip of her cock with your wet hole. You whine again, trying to squirm in her grip and try to get her inside you.

But Natasha is holding onto you tightly, keeping you where she wants you. Slowly, she starts to push in, inch by inch, making your head go blank as your fingers grip the sheets tighter.

“That’s it.” She grumbles, keeping track in until her pelvis is pressed up against you.

You try to speak but your words turn into an incoherent moans. Wanda sits beside you on the bed, stroking your hair as you squirm a little.

“Just focus on feeling it.” Wanda instructs, giving you a comforting smile. “Can you do that for me, puppy?”

Before you can even try to reply, Natasha slides almost all the way out and then quickly back in, making you moan loudly.

“There there… good girl.” Wanda murmurs, running her fingers through your hair in a soothing manner.

Natasha sets a rough pace, filling you to the brim with each brutal thrust. She’s growling and panting as she uses you, her fingers digging into your hips and her nails just barely break skin.

“Such a good girl…” she moans. “Taking my cock like a good little puppy..”

Wanda nods in agreement. “She’s a good girl. Isn’t she, Nat?” She asks, glancing over at her wife.

“Such a good girl.” Natasha grumbles. “So obedient..”

Wanda leans down, leaving soft kisses all over your face, down your neck and onto your chest. Her hands are still stroking your hair, trying to sooth you. Natasha is still pounding into you, her movements becoming harder but a little less coordinated.

“Don’t you want to come, pup?” She asks. “Is that what you want?”

“Just ask..” Wanda instructs.

Your head is spinning and your brain feels fuzzy. You tried to form any coherent thought but they just won’t come out. So, instead, you nod

“Please..” You manage to whine.

Wanda nods and turns back to Natasha. “Let her come.” Her voice is authoritative enough to make your brain focus for a brief moment before a particular harsh thrust makes you cry out.

“Good girl.” Natasha grunts. She gives a few more rougher thrusts, her fingernails practically drawing blood on your hips now. Then, when she’s just on the edge, she gives a few final hard thrusts, pressing herself as far into you as possible and moaning your name loudly as she finally comes.

A moment of satisfaction washes over Natasha’s face as her she pants for a second, holding herself still as her cum paints the inside of your puffy cunt.

But then, before she’s even had a moment to recover, she starts to grow inside you. You can still feeling her length twitching as it continues to throb, but it quickly starts to swell up as her knot starts to swell. ”Oh fuuuuck… you feel that little omega…?” She groans whilst her hips twitch.

The sudden growing pressure inside you has your hands reaching up to grab onto Natasha’s shoulders. You’re gripping onto her tightly as she grows locked inside you.

“Sshhh…” Wanda soothes, noticing your face contorting at the feeling. “Sshh… breathe…” she instructs in an almost motherly tone.

Despite you whining and clenching around her knot, Natasha leans over you, her teeth grazing over your mating gland. You feel her breath against it as you wait for a moment.

“You’re such a good girl,” she murmurs, nipping at the skin just enough to make you whimper.

After another moment and a particularly hard twitch from Natasha’s knot, she gives your mating gland a vicious bite and breaks the skin. A rush of pleasure and ecstasy washes over you as your first bond mark is planted.

“Such a brave little girl..” Wanda coos.

Wanda had moved so she’s sat against the headboard of the bed. You’re still sandwiched between the two Alpha’s. Natasha is still tied to you but she’s able to keep you spread open for Wanda.

“Stay still, pup.” Wanda instructs. “Let momma look after you too..”

Wanda strokes your hair once more before one of her hands slides up your thigh. You feel her fingers spread open your ass before she’s pressing up against your already occupied cunt. A yelp slips from your mouth, making Natasha growl and bite down on your neck to shut you up.

Wanda slides into you slowly, filling you even more than before. You whine and grip onto Natasha even harder. The brunette alpha lets out a groan of satisfaction as she bottoms out.

“Jesus Christ…” she breathes out. Natasha pulls her mouth away from your neck.

“She’s tight, right?”

“God, so tight.” Wanda grunts, her hands gripping your hips.

Natasha nods, her eyes shutting and a moan escaping her. “I think she’s still so sensitive… from before.”

The two Alpha’s begin to slowly move.

The two Alpha’s move together, their movements in practiced sync as they keep you impaled on their cocks. You’re panting and moaning, their names mixing together in your mouth.

“Can you take it, pup?” Wanda asks between her heavy breaths.

Natasha presses her hand onto your abdomen, feeling her own cock pushing up against the skin. You nod, trying to speak, but all you can get out is one word. “Y-yes.”

“Good girl..” Natasha purrs. “Such a good puppy.” Wanda’s hands tighten their hold on your hips, holding you in place as the two of them pick up the pace.

The two Alpha’s are growing rougher with their pace now, their hips smacking into your skin as the bed starts to creak beneath them. Your breaths and moans are getting shorter and more needy with every thrust.

Wanda wraps her hand around your neck again, her fingers applying a little pressure, making you see little white spots again. Natasha’s fingers are grazing your mating mark, making it burn and tingle. ”You’re doing so good, little puppy.” Natasha praises.

Your whole body seems to be on fire with pleasure. Your brain is fuzzy again and your stomach is clenching tighter and tighter.

“So good, momma.” You manage to whine.

At the little honorific, the Alpha’s seem to take that as a praise, their movements getting rougher. They’re both panting and groaning heavily. Natasha’s fingers dig into your skin as she holds you steady while Wanda’s grip on your neck tightens even more.

You’re getting closer and closer to the edge. Your moans are getting louder and needier as you try to speak.

“Please. Please…” You practically beg.

Both of the Alpha’s nod at you, understanding exactly what you’re trying to say. They pick up the pace even more. Wanda tightens her fingers around your neck, cutting off your breathing for a moment.

“Come, pup.” She instructs.

Wanda’s words and the pressure on your neck from both Alpha’s’ hands is all it takes, sending you over the edge. A strangled cry comes from you and you squeeze your eyes shut as you come.

The two Alpha’s keep working through your orgasm, continuing to chase their own. They’re getting sloppy and rougher now. Natasha’s fingers still gripping onto your hip and holding you in place. Wanda’s hand holds your neck tighter.

“We’re almost there.” Natasha moans.

Wanda lets out a long groan right after, her hips snapping up into you. Her face is flushed a dark pink, her lips parted as she pants. Behind you, Natasha is the last to come. Her whole body tenses up as her knot starts to swell in you.

“Oh- Oh, f-fuck.” She moans and pants against your neck. She’s panting your scent in like it’s the last breath she’ll ever take.

After what feels like forever, both Alpha’s collapse down on the bed with themselves and you. All three of you are panting and trying to catch your breaths. Wanda is still holding your neck while Natasha is still holding your hip.

“Such a good puppy.” Natasha praises.

You let out a shaky laugh, your chest rising and falling as the world slowly stops spinning. Wanda presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, murmuring softly, “Shh… you’re okay. You’re safe. Right here with us.”

Natasha’s hand never leaves your hip, rubbing soothing circles, grounding you. “Look at you,” she whispers, voice low and calm. “You did so well. So, so well.”

Wanda shifts slightly, draping a soft blanket over all three of you, tucking you snugly between them. You feel the warmth seep into your bones, the weight of the blanket like a soft shield from the world. Natasha adjusts your position, nudging your head closer to Wanda’s chest. “There, right there,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “That’s better, little one. Safe.”

Your muscles tremble slightly from the adrenaline, and Wanda brushes her fingers along your arms, slow, gentle strokes that feel like they’re melting the tension out of you. “You’re ours,” she whispers, “and we’re never letting go.”

Natasha hums softly in agreement, a quiet, steady vibration that travels through your chest. She moves her hand from your hip to your side, thumb brushing soothing circles across your ribs. “We’ll take care of you,” she murmurs. “Everything you need, whenever you need it.”

You nuzzle into Wanda’s chest, listening to her heartbeat, the steady rhythm like a lullaby. She runs her fingers through your hair, untangling stray strands, brushing the sweat from your forehead, tucking hair behind your ears with gentle precision. “Such a good little omega,” she coos, voice thick with affection. “We’ve got every piece of you.”

Natasha slides a hand under your shoulders, giving a small supportive lift so you’re nestled perfectly between them. “You can rest now,” she whispers, pressing her cheek to yours. “Just breathe. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

Wanda shifts again, adjusting the blanket so it covers your feet, pulling it up over your shoulders without breaking the gentle hold on your neck. She brushes her thumb along your jawline, tracing little circles. “Want some water?” she asks softly. “Or maybe a little snack?”

Natasha reaches for a water bottle from the nightstand and holds it to your lips. “There,” she says, guiding it so you can sip without straining. “Take your time. We’re not going anywhere.” She watches you carefully, eyes soft, her hand never leaving yours. “That’s it. Good. Easy.”

You take a few slow sips, feeling the cool water slide down your throat, every swallow grounding you more. Wanda leans down, pressing her lips to your forehead, murmuring, “See? You’re safe. Right here, right now. That’s all that matters.”

Natasha hums again, running a finger along your arm and down to hold your hand. “We’re proud of you,” she says softly. “Every little bit of you. You were amazing.”

Wanda lifts your chin gently, brushing your hair away from your face. “Do you want me to brush your hair?” she asks, already reaching for a soft brush. You nod slightly, too tired to speak. She kneels behind your head and starts brushing slowly, deliberately, the bristles gliding through tangles, each stroke grounding you further.

Natasha leans close, pressing kisses to the top of your head, your temple, your shoulder. “So good,” she whispers. “So loved. So safe.” Her hands move to adjust the blanket around your body, making sure you’re fully cocooned in warmth.

Wanda hums a quiet tune, brushing your hair and letting her fingers trail down your arms, over your shoulders, across your back in calming strokes. “Shh… just rest,” she murmurs. “We’ll stay right here. Always.”

You feel yourself start to drift, heavy with sleep and safety. Natasha notices and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Go on,” she says softly. “Dream. Rest. We’ve got all of you.”

Wanda’s hand slides to hold yours, thumbs tracing soothing patterns across your knuckles. “We’ll keep you warm,” she whispers. “We’ll keep you safe. And when you wake, we’ll still be here. Every time.”

Natasha brushes a finger along your cheek. “We’re yours, little one. All of us. Every part of you. Never alone.”

You nestle fully between them, letting the exhaustion finally win. Their warmth, their soft touches, their steady breaths… everything melts together into a cocoon that feels unbreakable. Every little worry drifts away, replaced with safety, love, and an almost dizzying sense of being completely cherished.

Wanda presses one last kiss to the top of your head as you drift off, whispering, “Sleep, little one. We’ll be right here.”

Natasha hums softly, holding your hand and stroking your back. “Always,” she murmurs. “Always here.”

And finally, with both Alphas holding you, soothing you, keeping you safe, you let yourself sink fully into sleep, into warmth, into love, knowing that nothing could ever reach you here.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

Masterlist

A/N: so… I actually buckled down last night and finished this (go me), erm… not sure if I like every part of it, I think I could have written the smut a bit better but I don’t really have that much practice in writing it. I also wrote this over the span of like… a month ish, so if some things repeat/happen twice, then I’m sorry!

[hee-blee-art]

some ship art I drew at the behest of the love of my life. thought you all would like it too