✧Hiii, I'm West. I started writing fanfics this year and it's been a blast so far 😊
✧I only write for fem reader (because that's what I resonate with). Right now I only write for Natasha and Wanda but maybe that'll expand in the future?
✧At the bottom you'll find my masterlist. One-shots will stay only on Tumblr because I'm loyal to where I first started👍 Chapters for my ongoing story will sometimes be posted here, but definitely always on AO3
✧This is an 18+ blog, so please, MDNI.
✧Feel free to send asks or DMs 😊 I'm not taking requests at the moment since I'm focusing on CYou (Choosing You). If you have any ideas for that story though, let me know!
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Masterlist
*= includes smut
All fem reader
One-Shots:
By Chance*
G!P Natasha Romanoff x Florist/Streamer Reader
Dealbreaker*
Undercover Investor Natasha Romanoff x Project Manager Reader
Letter Know
Natasha Romanoff x Postal Worker Reader
Short Enough?
Natasha Romanoff x Agent Reader
Player
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Sweet Girl*
WandaNat x Reader
Take a Breath*
Natasha Romanoff x Reader
Multi-Chapter Fics:
Choosing You (Ongoing)
WandaNat x Reader
Halfway Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt.4 (Completed)
Natasha Romanoff x Deaf Barista Reader
Chapter Summary: A conversation leaves you making a decision you wouldn't have made otherwise. Through the fever and the emotional exhaustion, you say something you shouldn't have.
Word Count: 6.7k
Warnings: MDNI, argument(s), references to past psychological abuse, a little slip up at the end, some fluff, mommy kink, lots of pet names
A/N: yay we're back from the smut break! also, thank you for 700 on AO3! running out of things to say in these notes so i'll thank a commenter instead. thank you @toe19 for following the story!
Series Masterlist
—
Wanda's smile drops immediately, her head turning toward the front door just a few paces away from the dining room. Beside you, Natasha lets out a heavy sigh, like she already knows who's standing on the other side of it.
Natasha's hand finds yours under the table, squeezing your fingers briefly before holding them there. It feels like the whole atmosphere in the room suddenly shifts—all that warm, happy air slowly draining away until everything just feels lukewarm. You meet Natasha's eyes. She's giving you a small smile, but her eyes are swimming with too many thoughts for you to pick out.
"I'll get the door."
Natasha's hand slips out of yours. Your fingers instinctively chase hers. Maybe subconsciously, you know who's at the door too. And maybe, more than anything, you wish Natasha would just stay and protect you from it. But she's already sitting up and walking away.
Wanda's hand cups your cheek, gently turning your focus back toward her. Her eyes are full of a deep understanding.
Understanding of what? you can't help but wonder. Your thoughts are finally beginning to shake off the thick syrup that was keeping them down. It's usually frustrating not being able to think clearly, but today, with Wanda and Natasha taking care of things for you, thinking for you, it finally felt like you could breathe calmly instead of gasping for air.
"I can turn them away," Wanda offers, her voice holding a gentle tone that eases the panic in your chest for a second. "It's Kate and Yelena."
Your hands find their way to the tops of your thighs, rubbing them against the fuzzy fabric incessantly. What do I do? The thoughts consume you, your gaze drifting down to the container in front of Wanda. Clearly Wanda and Natasha know them. What if this situation is making things difficult for everyone?
"I—" you start, but the sharp sound of the front door swinging open makes your mouth snap shut.
Wanda's hand slides smoothly off your cheek. Steps sound heavily in the foyer behind you. The sudden scrape of Wanda's chair as she stands up makes you jolt, your shoulders going tight. She steps around the table, positioning her body right behind your chair like a shield. Her fingertips press firmly against your back—the same way she did in the office when you were struggling to stay afloat.
It's Natasha who speaks up first, her voice cutting through the space from the doorway. "Do this another time. She isn't feeling well."
Her tone is firm. You can hear the underlying annoyance vibrating in her voice, but with your head spinning, it's hard to tell if that annoyance is directed at you or at them. You keep your gaze locked hard on Wanda's takeout container, your fingers tightening into the fuzzy pants until your knuckles ache.
"She can speak for herself, Natasha. Unless she wants to act like we do not exist, the same way she has for the past few years," Yelena snaps back. The Russian accent in her voice is heavier now, bleeding through her words the way it would grow back in high school whenever she would complain about her grades.
"Lena, stop. You said we wouldn't handle it like this," Kate murmurs from somewhere beside her. It was always like her to be the pragmatic one, trying to hold the line.
Wanda's fingertips gently stroke your back the second she feels your muscles tense up.
Natasha's voice raises, her tone becoming noticeably harsher. "I don't know if you realize where you are, but this is my house. I'm not asking you to do this another time. I'm telling you."
You hear Natasha shift her weight, like she's about to turn around, but she stops short when Yelena speaks up again.
"Yeah?" Yelena scoffs out in disbelief. "And when were you going to mention that you knew her?"
You slowly turn your head, Wanda's fingers moving subtly against your back as you peek past her torso. You meet Kate's wide, blue eyes immediately. Her gaze darts back and forth between you and Natasha, like she's desperately debating whether she should just let this go or push through. The resolve in Kate's expression grows when she looks at your face, but it fades the second she glances back at Natasha.
"I talked about her all the time when you and I reunited," Yelena continues, taking a step forward. "I described her, told you so many stories about her, I even told you what her favorite food was. You are going to stand there and act like you did not have any clue? Bullshit, Natasha. You notice when the picture frame on your desk is moved by a millimeter."
"I haven't known her for that long. I'm sorry your long-lost friend wasn't the first thing to come to mind," Natasha bites back, her voice lethal.
"Oh, sure," Yelena huffs, her chest rising with anger. "You have not known her that long? Then why is she in your house? And wearing your pants? Why did you call her detka last night? The only person I have ever heard you call that is Wanda."
Yelena's voice rises with every single question, the hurt breaking through the anger. You quickly turn your head away when Yelena's cold stare finally snaps down to you.
"Or do you want to answer that?" she calls out to you.
"Yelena," Wanda warns, her hand pressing a little harder against your back.
"Stay out of it," Yelena warns back, her voice dropping coldly.
Natasha's tone is dangerously calm, but it's that calmness that makes shivers run up your arm.
"I've been letting you get away with a lot, but talk to Wanda like that again and see what happens."
Yelena scoffs, her voice instantly turning condescending. "Wanda, stay out—"
"Nat—" Kate gasps out.
A sudden flurry of movement sounds behind you, the friction of fabric and heavy steps forcing you to twist around in your chair. The collar of Yelena's shirt is curled tightly inside Natasha's fist. They're standing nose-to-nose, their faces so close together that you can see Natasha's breath moving the stray strands of hair across Yelena's forehead.
Kate already has her hand wrapped around Natasha's forearm, her fingers straining as she tries to get Natasha to let go. Neither of them is blinking. Both of them staring daggers at each other, and looking at the tight line of Natasha's jaw, it feels like it's only a matter of seconds before things truly get physical.
Wanda steps forward and then hesitates, her fingertips releasing your back for a moment before returning to press against your spine.
You're the one stopping her from helping. This situation is all your fault.
Natasha grips Yelena’s collar even tighter, her knuckles turning white as she pulls Yelena slightly off the floor.
"I warned you," Natasha says, her voice dangerously quiet.
Yelena's hand whips around in a blur, grabbing the lapel of Natasha’s blazer and yanking downward, forcing Natasha to lean even closer into her space. "Do something about it then."
The sharp, defiant smirk on Yelena's face is painfully familiar. It's the same look she used to give you during all your petty high school arguments. The expression she'd reserve for the moment she said something she knew would wind you up.
Natasha's free hand raises. Kate’s eyes widen in panic. Yelena just continues to stare up at Natasha with that goading smirk, treating her threat like a joke.
Wanda takes a decisive step forward, her hand finally falling away from your back.
You wrench your head away, turning back toward the table. Everything feels like too much. The appearance of Kate and Yelena. Being in Wanda and Natasha's home. The immediate shift in the air when the doorbell rang. Your fingernails dig deep into the sensitive, newly healed skin of your palm, your heart beating painfully fast.
"Natasha, don't—" Wanda says suddenly.
Wanda’s voice is the final crack that forces you to break your own silence.
"Stop!" you shout desperately.
The sound breaks raw from your chest, echoing loudly through the luxurious space. Your hand instantly flies to your throat, your fingernails clawing at the skin of your neck from the burning pain radiating through it. You hadn't raised your voice like this since you were a little kid on the playground, screaming and running around with your friends.
It wasn't painful like this back then. Your shoulders droop.
"Can I talk to Kate and Yelena alone?" you whisper, the warm breath passing through your throat sending sharp stings that linger.
You hear Wanda step back, her hand suddenly squeezing your shoulder. "Darling, you're not feeling well. Maybe you can talk to them another time?" She's using the sweet, sugary tone that normally would make you want to concede. To listen to her so that she'll praise you.
But you know this conversation will just continue to get pushed forward. Chasing you until you can't run anymore.
Well, now you can't run. Not with the exhaustion in your limbs holding you to this chair. Not with the two people you hoped you wouldn't have to see again so you wouldn't have to explain anything. You'd already hit a dead end without realizing it.
Shuffling sounds behind you, followed by a pair of quiet steps. A second hand drops onto your other shoulder.
"Wanda's right. I can send them out," Natasha's raspy voice sounds from right beside your ear.
You let out a long sigh. Whether it's from relief that Natasha and Yelena aren't at each other's throats anymore, or from the suffocating fact that you know this conversation is about to happen, it's difficult to say. You shake your head slowly.
"No. I want to talk to them," you say resolutely.
You don't. It feels more like you're trying to convince yourself rather than anyone else in the room, but you don't let your voice waver.
Natasha squeezes your shoulder tightly, holding it there for a long moment before she finally releases her grip. Her fingers slide reluctantly over the fabric of your sweatshirt. You hear her shift to face Wanda.
"Let's go upstairs so they can talk."
"Natasha, you really think this is—"
Natasha cuts her off before she can finish the thought. "It's her life, Wanda. Her decisions."
Wanda lets out a defeated sigh. Her hand falls away from your shoulder, too, leaving you feeling alone even with the two of them still standing right beside you.
"We'll be upstairs," Natasha directs toward Yelena and Kate. She turns back to you, her voice softening noticeably. "Call us if you need anything."
Wanda's fingertips brush gently over your cheek one last time before you hear them finally walk away, their quiet steps fading as they head up the stairs.
Movement sounds behind you. Kate and Yelena appear in your vision as Yelena pulls Wanda’s empty chair around, dragging it across the floor to set it down directly across from you. They both sit down. You drag your eyes up, glancing between them. Your heart aches at the sight of them.
Kate’s hair is pulled back into her signature ponytail, the shorter front strands framing the sides of her face. Her eyes are rimmed red. You know it’s your fault. Guilt churns in your stomach, but then you notice the small white bandage stuck to the right side of her chin. It almost makes you want to smile. Kate's still the same clumsy girl you knew in high school.
You shift your gaze over to Yelena. Her blonde hair is shorter than it was when you last saw her, the longest strands ending at her chin. Delicate, purple bags color the skin just below her eyes—she must not have slept well because of your ordeal. You close your eyes briefly, then force them open, biting the inside of your cheek. She's wearing the same vest she used to brag about constantly, the one she saved up for and modified just to her liking.
Beneath the crushing guilt, you realize the ache in your chest isn't just about how sorry you feel.
You missed them.
You missed their chaotic energy, and laughing with them over absolutely nothing until you couldn't breathe. You missed meeting their eyes across the crowded gym floor, through hundreds of other students, and instantly feeling relief wash over you. Your best friends.
The only two people who made your life at home bearable. The ones you looked forward to seeing at the crack of dawn, the three of you dragging yourselves to first period with your eyes barely open. The two who would confide in you about anything and everything, knowing their secrets were always safe with you.
And you had told them everything, too. Except for the one thing that was actively tearing you apart.
"Are you feeling better?" Kate asks softly.
It's such a simple question. But her voice makes your heart clench from how it mirrors the times she would baby you back in school whenever you were sick, your parents unwilling to come pick you up.
"I'm feeling a little better," you murmur, meeting her gaze as she scans your face with nothing but gentleness.
"That's good," Kate responds, letting out a soft breath of relief. Her gaze drops to her lap for a moment, her eyebrows furrowing in contemplation before she looks back up to meet your eyes. "Can I ask where you've been all this time?"
You take a quick glance at Yelena. Her jaw is clenched tightly, her lips pursed into a hard line as she stares at you. You can tell she's fighting the urge to speak—her mouth opens slightly, then closes, before she lets out a heavy, frustrated breath through her nose. You're grateful it’s Kate asking the questions right now. Yelena was always too direct, always targeting the root of an issue instead of trimming the branches.
"I…" you start, desperately calculating what's safe to say. "I attended community college after we graduated. I got my associate's there, and now I'm in my first term at university."
Kate nods slowly, her eyes flitting around in thought before she continues. "How come you didn't tell us you weren't coming with us after graduation?" Even with her trying to keep her tone light, you can hear the betrayal lingering beneath the words.
"Things happened too quickly to tell you guys," you respond automatically. It wasn't exactly a lie.
"Bullshit," Yelena speaks up. The daggers she's sending your way force you to slowly turn your focus to her. "Too quickly to even send us a text? You even changed your phone number," she scoffs, shaking her head.
"Lena, she's not going to want to talk if you keep acting like this," Kate murmurs quietly, but the words still carry across the small distance between the chairs.
"And you think we are going to get any real answers with the questions you are asking?" Yelena raises a sharp brow at her. Kate looks away, her lips pulling into a thin line. Yelena was always alarmingly fast at reading a room.
She levels her cold gaze right back to you. "Tell us why you suddenly threw us out of your life," Yelena demands, her voice flat and level.
"I… I didn't throw you guys out of my life."
"Wrong," Yelena says with a heavy sigh, as if she had expected that answer. "Then tell us why you suddenly changed your plans. We always said we would go to the same university together."
"I already said things happened too quickly to tell you guys," you respond, your voice beginning to waver.
"You did. But that does not explain anything. What exactly happened too quickly?"
"My… my decision was quick. Too quick to tell you."
"You realize how weak that sounds? You still could have informed us after the fact," Yelena says, her voice beginning to raise again. "Then tell us why your eyes were so red on graduation day. I saw the cuts on your hands."
The sudden shift in her questioning makes your head spin. Your hands shake violently beneath the table, your pulse thrumming painfully against your skin. What else did she notice back then?
You look over at Kate. She's staring at Yelena, her bottom lip sucked in, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Back then, Kate would always instinctively side with you whenever you were arguing with Yelena. She knew your habit of passing things off with a bright smile or a fake laugh, even when your expression never truly matched how you felt. Right now, her eyes are squinted the exact way they did when she was about to jump in and defend you from a fight—but she breathes out slowly instead, keeping her mouth shut.
She wants to know the truth, too.
"I was emotional because we were graduating. The cuts…" you trail off, your tired brain failing to invent a passable excuse.
"I have never seen you shed a single tear in the entire time I have known you. Have you?" Yelena asks Kate, her voice laced with cutting curiosity.
Kate shakes her head slowly, her eyes drifting down to her lap.
"Okay, fine," Yelena huffs, leaning forward. "I will make it easier for you. Does it have anything to do with the fact that you suddenly ran for student government in our junior year, even though you absolutely hate public speaking?"
Your gaze drops instantly, the memories swirling viscously in your head. Your parents had demanded you run for student body president because it would look good on your university applications. They had barely conceded when you begged to run for a smaller position, but you had ended up winning vice president anyway. Other students would stop you in the hallway to ask you questions. You would stay after school to handle council work, then sprint to track practice right after. It wouldn't be until you finally unlocked your front door near sunset that you would get to drop that exhausting, mechanical smile from your face.
"Or does it have anything to do with the fact that you started falling asleep during first period, even though you were always a good student?"
After getting home back then, you would always eat the quick dinner your mother curated for you, shower, and then study. It was a continuous, brutal cycle. You would study until just before midnight, but even when you turned off the lamp, your mind wouldn't shut down. All the things you needed to complete the next day would race through your head. The suffocating weight of everyone's expectations made you feel like you should get out of bed and do even more.
"What about your leg constantly bouncing?" Yelena pushes, her voice level but relentless. "Kate would remind you to stop, but you would start right back up again a minute later."
Junior year was when the sudden jumps in your heart rate had started. They would come out of nowhere, usually in the middle of class when the room was at its quietest and the teacher was droning on about something in the textbook. It was that suffocating feeling where your lungs couldn't seem to expand fully, your breaths coming out quicker and quicker. Dread would blanket heavily over you, your teeth digging deep into your inner cheek until it bled, though you could barely feel the pain.
But you were in class. You needed to pay attention. You had to be a model student. To be perfectly put together. To be anything but the complete mess you felt like inside. So, you would force your expression to stay neutral. You stared at the teacher even when your focus wavered, forcing your brain to zone back in even when it completely exhausted you later.
"How about when you started to lose weight rapidly?" Yelena asks, her voice becoming thick with emotion. "Or when you stopped being able to hang out with Kate and I after school? Or maybe... why every single time we asked you about your family, you would immediately change the subject?"
Yelena lets out a heavy, ragged breath, finally falling silent.
Under the table, your hands are completely still now. Your skin feels ice-cold, the blood coursing beneath moving quickly. You stare blankly at the empty space on the table right in front of them, your thoughts racing a million miles a second.
They knew. They've known this entire time.
The dining room is dead silent. It feels like you've stopped breathing. Every single inhale you take feels stuck, held tight inside your lungs until it burns and you're forced to shudder out an exhale.
Nobody moves for a long time. It's like time itself is standing still, except you can't predict when it'll start moving again. You don't even know which choice is safer anymore—to stay like this, frozen in terror, or to find out what happens next.
"We're not interrogating you," Kate murmurs, her voice watery and thick.
A couple of tears drip onto the table right in front of her. Staring at them steadily fall makes your own vision begin to blur, the edges of the room turning soft and pixelated. It isn't until you finally blink, and a hot tear trails down your cheek, that you realize the blurry sight is coming from your own eyes.
"I missed you… I missed you so much." Kate's voice breaks. The quick, shallow breaths she takes between her sobs make it hard for her to even get the words out. You hear her exhale harshly in frustration, trying to drag her own breathing back under control, but her chest still shudders heavily as she forces herself to continue.
"Even if you weren't right next to me," she cries, her teary gaze locked onto yours. "Even if you became friends with someone else, somewhere where I couldn't see you… the idea that you were happy somewhere was enough for me."
She brushes the tears about to drip down her jaw shakily, but fresh tears replace them instantly.
"But then you appeared in front of us again like a dream," she breathes out shakily. "Thinner than when I last saw you, so tired looking, about to collapse on the sidewalk… how am I supposed to let you go now? How am I supposed to just not talk to you when I know you're here?"
Her voice begins to rise, cracking on the syllables. "What should I have done for you to stay in my life?"
You hear Yelena take in a sharp, shaky breath. The sudden moisture in her eyes finally becomes apparent to you, the tears glimmering under the bright daylight coming through the dining room windows. She tries to blink them away quickly, her face morphing into a grimace when a single tear slips free anyway.
But it’s the way their shoulders are hunched inward, like they're both trying to protect themselves, that finally makes something inside you break. It's the hurt in their eyes that makes you release a heavy, trembling breath that shatters your composure. And it's Kate, unable to hold back the heavy sobs clawing their way out of her chest, and Yelena trying to quickly wipe away her tear before either of you can notice, that finally rips your heart wide open.
Because it's on you.
It's on you that they're hurting. You thought that after you walked out of their lives that they'd move on easily. You'd be a passing memory of that girl they were once friends with in high school. It'd be like all the other stories.
You remember her? Yeah, I wonder what happened to her. Guess we'll never know.
It was supposed to be that simple. But it's that flawed thinking that lead you here. Because you remembered them all this time. You missed them all this time. You loved them all this time. So, why did you think they wouldn't feel the same?
It's hard to see anything in front of you anymore. The room is just shifting blobs of color that clear for a moment when you blink, only to turn blurry again a millisecond later.
You're a wreck. You're sitting inside your bosses' home, swaddled in their clothes, your throat burning, your body aching with exhaustion. Tears stream relentlessly down your cheeks, sliding down your jawline to your neck, wetting the collar of the sweatshirt Wanda lent to you. It's the kind of appearance you would usually hide away immediately, frantically swiping the moisture off your face before your parents could see that their words had actually left a mark.
But right now, you just cry.
Because you've felt so alone for the past two years, wishing you could turn to them to talk about how hard work is, but when you'd turn your head, there'd be no one there. You chose that.
And when you realized the feelings beginning to bloom inside you in Natasha's office, the look Natasha and Wanda shared, you just wished you had your best friends there to confide in. To tell them how confused you felt. That you felt lost because this never felt like an option. But instead you cried under Wanda's jacket.
"It's not your guys' fault," you start shakily, your voice cracking. "I… I didn't want to part ways with you guys either. But at the time… I needed to leave."
"But why?" Yelena whispers, her voice quieter than you've ever heard it.
Why?
Where do you even start? The answer isn't something you can just pass off with a quick yes or no.
Most of all, it’s something you haven't even fully confronted yourself yet. You haven't spoken to the person who started this in a long time, even if she didn't intend for the aftermath. And it's the reason why, when Wanda asked you why you smelled like smoke, you couldn't tell her a single thing.
Because you don't even have all the answers yourself.
"I can't tell you why. Not right now," you whisper back tiredly.
The heavy, sudden thud of Yelena slamming her fist onto the table makes you jolt in your chair, the plastic takeout containers between you shifting slightly from the force.
"Do you understand how bullshit that sounds?" Yelena yells angrily. "Not right now? I have been waiting since we saw you collapse last night for real answers, and this is it?"
She scoffs, leveling you with a freezing glare. "Natasha told me you are just an intern at her company, but that is not how she is treating you," Yelena pushes, her voice dropping. "Do not be fooled. Others have been in your position before, and now they are nowhere to be seen."
She grabs Kate's wrist, pulling her up and dragging her around the table past you.
"Lena, hold on," Kate says frantically, trying to find her footing.
The sound of their footsteps stop right at the front door, but Yelena doesn't open it. Instead, you hear her shout in the direction of the stairs.
"Natasha, I know you were listening," Yelena yells, but her tone is dangerously calm now. "You may be my sister but, ona tebe ne prinadlezhit."
You try to follow along with what she says but the last phrase is completely foreign to you. It's what she says in the middle that sticks with you.
Sister.
The same sister from Natasha's story? You try to replay what she told you last night, trying to find the details but a thick fog hovers over your thoughts, making them too difficult to find.
The front door swings open, but before it slams shut, you hear Kate's rushed, breathless voice.
"We'll talk soon."
And then it's quiet.
You expect dread to creep up on you at her words, but instead you feel painfully relieved. You'll get to see them again. It's such a selfish thought, but the shame of that realization never comes.
You look down at the surface of the table where your phone rests. You'd never talked about your situation regarding your parents, your sister, and how it all culminated into where you are now. Frankly, you never wanted to. It would be like touching a hot stove.
But seeing Kate and Yelena hurt over your decisions, thinking they didn't do enough, makes you wish you could just tell them everything.
There was one person you needed to talk to first before that.
You grab your phone off the table. It feels noticeably heavier in your hand than usual. Perhaps it’s just the fading adrenaline from the conversation, or your sickness finally making itself known again as the fever crawls back up your neck. Or maybe it’s the weight of what you're about to do.
You unlock the screen and open your text history with your older sister, finding an unread message sitting at the bottom.
I know you aren't coming home again for Christmas, but can we at least meet for dinner before then to catch up? I miss my little sister. Please let me know soon.
You blink down at the glowing screen, the tears that had clouded your vision finally having dried up, leaving your skin feeling tight and exhausted. You know you need to do this right now. Before your resolve breaks and you're too tired to think anymore.
Okay, let's meet. Maybe at that diner we would always go to? Let me know what day works best for you.
You hit send before you can think twice. You shut off your phone immediately, placing it back down. Your eyelids droop heavily, your body slumping as a tidal wave of fatigue washes over you. Static plays on repeat in your head, your mind completely spent. Your body reaching its limit.
You don't know how long you sit there, trying to force yourself to stay awake. This isn't your house.
"Darling." Wanda's quiet, soothing voice sounds from beside you. You don't even have the energy to be surprised or maybe it's the gentleness in her tone that keeps your heart rate steady.
You hear her take steps until she's right next to you. Her hand finds your cheek, cupping it before turning it toward her. Her eyebrows furrow immediately, concern washing over her features. Her thumb rubs over your cheekbone, smoothing the skin as if she can magically remove the dried tearstains herself.
"One moment," she says, her hand dropping from your face and walking toward the kitchen. You stare down at your lap blankly, finding your hands rubbed raw and indents from your fingernails in your palms.
Wanda clatters about in the kitchen for a few moments, the sound muted and distant, before she finally returns to your side.
"Close your eyes sweetheart," she instructs quietly. You let your eyelids flutter shut at the instruction. Warm, soft fabric touches your eyelids, Wanda rubbing away the evidence of you crying. You sit quietly, basking in her touch while your mind breaks through the static, trying to fight with you.
The fabric is finally removed and you open your eyes slowly. Wanda's standing there, smiling softly down at you while holding a towel.
You let out a shaky breath. "I…I should go home. I've taken up too much of your time and my study material are in my room."
You look away from her, letting your gaze drop back down to your hands to hide your expression. Wanda crouches down next to your chair, tilting her head up to try to catch your eye. Her hand finds yours, her thumb rubbing over the indents that are already becoming dark and angry against your skin. You hear her suck in a breath like she’s about to speak, but it's Natasha's voice you hear behind you instead.
"Baby girl, you're not feeling well. Can't you stay here until you feel better? I promise it's not a bother in the slightest."
You hear her take the last few steps down the stairs and then it becomes silent again. Suddenly she's standing at your other side. Yelena's voice echoes in your head.
Sister.
"I—I'm sorry for making things difficult between you and Yelena," you apologize shakily, the guilt eating at your chest until it hurts.
Natasha cranes her head, forcing herself right into your line of sight while Wanda continues to rub your palm, her steady breathing keeping your thoughts from spiraling further. Natasha shakes her head.
"Nothing is your fault, detka," she says resolutely. "Even if I knew you were Yelena's friend, I would have acted the exact same way."
"That's not—" you start, but you breathe out a harsh sigh instead. It's not true. You aren't faultless.
You sniffle lightly, the heat in your face starting to build again along with the rest of your aching body. You need to go home. You've only created messy situations for them to clean up since the moment you met them.
You lift your hand up shakily, pressing your palm into the surface of the table to force yourself upright. But your arm feels like it's made of jelly, folding beneath your weight immediately.
Natasha's hand finds its way atop yours, holding it there steadily. "Pretty baby, Wanda and I were feeling a bit lonely. Will you do us a favor and keep us company?" she asks, her bright, green eyes searching yours.
You're not stupid. You know what she's trying to do, but then you see the metal spoon on the table. That warm, comfortable bubble. Wanda feeding you spoonfuls of soup, Natasha's eyes brightening when you called her Natty.
You want that again. But your brain fights with you even in it's weakened state.
"Please, sweetheart?" Wanda asks, looking up at you from the floor with wide, pleading eyes.
You look down at where Wanda is gently rubbing your palm with her thumb, then look back up into her eyes. "Just… just for a little," you concede quietly.
Wanda's eyes brighten immediately, a wide smile taking over her entire face. "Perfect!" she exclaims, before quickly reigning in the volume of her voice. "Thank you, honey."
You nod at her with a completely serious expression, trying to maintain your dignity. Wanda lets out a light chuckle, the sound filling the small space between you, and you instinctively send a tiny pout her way.
"I'm just laughing because I'm thankful, sweet girl," Wanda says innocently.
Natasha's hand squeezes yours, turning your focus back to her side of the table. "Baby, how about we watch something on the couch? You can take a nap if you're tired."
She's using that bright, slightly higher-pitched tone. The one she used on you before you went to sleep earlier. You know you should probably feel insulted by how much she's babying you, but right now, that gentleness is the only thing keeping you upright. You nod at her, accepting her hand as she helps you up out of the chair. She walks you across the floor until you reach the large, plush couch you had seen when Wanda carried you downstairs.
Natasha helps you sit down right in the middle of it. The soft material gives way slowly as your weight sinks in. It envelopes you the moment you lean back. The cushions give just the right amount of support against your aching spine. Natasha looks down at you, her eyes observant, but there's an aching softness in them that makes you look away shyly.
When the silence stretches and she doesn't say anything, you speak up. "What?" you ask defensively.
Natasha chuckles brightly. "Nothing," she says, holding her hands up in surrender. "I just thought you looked cute all snuggled up."
You look back at her, trying to read her face to see if she's telling the truth, but it’s her change in outfit that catches your attention instead. She's changed into a red sweatshirt and fuzzy pants that are the inverse of yours. Red with white hearts. You peek up, meeting her eyes.
"We match," she whispers, just loud enough for you to hear.
Your cheeks instantly heat up, your heart warming through the fever. You look down at your lap to hide the small smile that forms involuntarily on your lips.
Wanda takes a seat to your right, her thigh pressed firmly against yours. She leans forward, grabbing the remote control from the coffee table before turning on the large television screen in front of you. She navigates to a familiar show, one you've watched hundreds of times before.
"We were on a break!"
Wanda lowers the volume slightly. You hear Natasha moving behind you, over in the kitchen. With Wanda pressed beside you, the thought of Natasha matching with you, warmth envelopes you.
But one thing stops it from comforting you completely.
Others have been in your position before, and now they are nowhere to be seen.
"Am I…" you start, your usual filter broken from the tiredness threatening to drag you down. "Am I going to be gone soon?"
It's a terrible, clumsy way to word the question, but right now, through the thick fog in your head, this is the best you can do.
Wanda shifts instantly, turning her whole body to look at you. You force your head to turn slowly, even though you're terrified to hear the answer. You need to know.
Her eyebrows furrow deeply. "I hope not," Wanda says slowly, the confusion evident in her voice. "What do you mean, darling?"
You blink slowly before shaking your head, turning back to face the glowing screen as your eyelids begin to droop. "It's nothing," you whisper, your throat—which had briefly been mended by the hot soup—beginning to radiate that sharp pain all over again.
"I hope you'll always be here," Wanda murmurs. She slips her hand into yours, squeezing gently.
You close your eyes, listening to the familiar dialogue of the show playing in the background. Something about the way she said it makes the tiny, hopeful part of you actually believe her.
You feel your consciousness beginning to slip away, but something inside you won't allow you to fully fall. You force your eyes open, squinting to your left.
"Natty?" you call out quietly, trying to locate her.
She appears at your side a second later, a steaming mug in her hand and a heavy blanket tucked under her arm. "I was just grabbing you some warm water and a blanket, princess. I'm right here," she says softly. She sets the mug on the coffee table before sitting down beside you.
She drapes the blanket over you, the warmth seeping past the fabric of your clothes.
It's like your body knows it's okay now, your eyes shutting immediately. Your head droops, falling gently against Wanda's shoulder on your right. You try to lift it back up, not wanting to be a bother to her, but her hand releases yours, reaching up to softly guide your head back down against her shoulder. Her fingertips begin to comb through your hair like you're something incredibly precious. Her fingernails drag soothingly against your scalp, applying just enough pressure not to be ticklish.
"Remember," you mumble out, the words barely coherent. "Just for a little."
Natasha chuckles softly beside you, keeping her tone low. "I promise I'll take you home after your nap."
"Mmm…" It's all you can manage in agreement. Wanda begins to hum that same tune she did in the bathroom when she was setting up your bath.
With her fingernails dragging pleasantly against your scalp and her soothing hum, you can't help but remember you mother.
Back when you were much younger, laying in bed right at your bed time. Her kneeling next to you, combing through your hair with her fingers and humming you a lullaby to help you sleep.
The memory makes you smile. It was a time before she began forcing you to call her "mother" instead of the childish shorthand. Before she began ripping her fingers through your hair instead. But right now, all you can think about is before then.
"Ma…" you start, but your brain is shutting down too quickly for your lips to finish the word.
The last thing you hear is Wanda inhaling sharply, and the last thing you feel is Natasha stiffening completely beside you as you lose consciousness.
—
A/N: Oof tough conversation. Now I just have to figure out what Natasha's going to be called.
I don't speak Russian, just English and Korean so please don't come for me if the Russian is incorrect! (I did my due diligence but I could still be wrong)
if you're a bit impatient about the smut like I was and others, I wrote a one-shot that takes place in the Choosing You universe called "Sweet Girl". Thank you guys for being patient, hope you enjoyed the chapter!
I always appreciate the comments and likes, especially at times when I'm unsure about my writing, so thank you so much!
—
Taglist♡: @kawaiipeacemusic @toe19 @tomy5girls @nrlvr @imaginemeandwho @sweetmissnothing @scarlettbitchx @three3ofswords @truthindreams @beggingonmykneesforher @justheretoreadgl @digitalsnoww @silverstarr13 @ira-16 @czechsooth @aspenlovescinema
^ if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!
Sorry I saw this last week but I didn’t have good news or a picture 😅 update today! I was going to wear red and yellow for Spain but I didn’t want to cosplay Ronald McDonald
We were supposed to leave for the game 15 minutes ago 🫠 this is what happens when you have 6 girls getting ready in the same house
OMG update today ?? i thought it was gonna be next saturday 😭😭 you write so fast it’s insaneeee, especially with how high quality all your updates are !!
i’m assuming you won’t post it before the game though right ? lolll now i’m excited to see who wins the wc final AND to read your chapter
Yeahhh it’s CYou Sunday this time around! Girl I sat down and committed these past two days. But I think the fact that the plot for this chapter was already set in my head for a week made the writing a lot easier 🥲
Definitely after the game! I’m going out to watch it too 😂
wait speaking of choosing you, I think chapter 6 is my fav chapter and it’s mostly because of the author’s note. “Just like how Natasha can’t help but baby, I can’t help but baby you guys too.” That was so funny to me but I also really liked it. My favorite author’s note ever. I also really liked how worried Wanda was especially bc R was trying to avoid her.
and then in chapter 7, I really liked how Natasha called her baby girl. But my favorite parts were when R described Wanda’s outfit as a typical mom outfit and when she let Wanda hold her. I also really liked near the end where Wanda just took over in feeding R the soup and blowing it and even saying “thank you for eating so well”. Ugh, I really liked that part!! Wanda is just so mama. What I loved overall abt the 2 recent chapters was although R was mad at Wanda (which I liked reading for the angst 😭), it was bc Wanda mattered to her and she wanted her to be different than everyone else
wow this came at such a good time 🥲 I was struggling to find the right wording for the main part of chapter 8 and this gave me a boost!
I love angst too, but I always feel bad with ending the chapter with it because I don’t want you guys to end the chapter feeling sad😅 That’s not to say it’ll never happen though! Plus I don’t think I’m particularly good at angst. I literally have to cry irl to describe one of the characters crying.
We love mama Wanda out here! The fluffy scenes are like a treat that I get to write after the sad parts. I haven’t decided how this chapter will end but we’ll see 🙂↕️ thank you for enjoying the story so far! 💖
sure 😊 idk how i feel about this opening yet, but for now this is a little bit of Chapter 8's opening:
Wanda's smile drops immediately, her head turning toward the front door just a few paces away from the dining room. Beside you, Natasha lets out a heavy sigh, like she already knows who's standing on the other side of it.
Natasha's hand finds yours under the table, squeezing your fingers briefly before holding them there. It feels like the whole atmosphere in the room suddenly shifts—all that warm, happy air slowly draining away until everything just feels lukewarm. You meet Natasha's eyes. She's giving you a small smile, but her eyes are swimming with too many thoughts for you to pick out.
"I'll get the door."
Natasha's hand slips out of yours. Your fingers instinctively chase hers. Maybe subconsciously, you know who's at the door too. And maybe, more than anything, you wish Natasha would just stay and protect you from it. But she's already sitting up and walking away.
Wanda's hand cups your cheek, gently turning your focus back toward her. Her eyes are full of a deep understanding.
Understanding of what? you can't help but wonder. Your thoughts are finally beginning to shake off the thick syrup that was keeping them down. It's usually frustrating not being able to think clearly, but today, with them taking care of things for you, thinking for you, it finally felt like you could breathe calmly instead of gasping for air.
"I can turn them away," Wanda offers, her voice holding a gentle tone that eases the panic in your chest for a second. "It's Kate and Yelena."
Your hands find their way to the tops of your thighs, rubbing them against the fuzzy fabric incessantly. What do I do? The thoughts consume you, your gaze drifting down to the container in front of Wanda. Clearly Wanda and Natasha know them. What if this situation is making things difficult for everyone?
"I—" you start, but the sharp sound of the front door swinging open makes your mouth snap shut.
please dont feel guilty for not immediately posting/updating any chapters or works! 😭 i hope you're not pushing yourself too much with writing. it's supposed to be fun for everybody, including you! and not feel like an obligation or a job 🥺
i'll try to stop feeling guilty!
i think it's more so that i set deadlines in my head, so when i pass them and other people remind me i start to feel bad 😅 bad habit.
i promise i'm not pushing myself! starting chapter 8 ended up being kind of fun. maybe i missed CYou more than i thought. i think writing other things (even though it was smut) was a palate cleanser i needed. thank you so much for looking out for me 💖
Do you have any WIPS? or just things you’re planning on writing?
Well, I have a kind of messed up idea for Wanda or Nat that I’m debating.
But before that I need to write the 8th chapter of CYou because the asks and DMs are filling me with guilt 🫠 I got the horny out of me for a bit so hopefully writing it will be a bit easier 👍
girl where are you getting these ideas? I’m in love with Sweet Girl and Take a Breath it’s fun seeing you kind of unhinged 🤭
For “Sweet Girl” I have no idea LOL just popped into my head.
Take a Breath was when my friend and I had to sit at the bar in a restaurant and some of the women next to us struck up a conversation and when I turned to talk to my friend, one of them put her hand on my neck and forced me to turn back to her.
at the time I was like: 😶 because I don’t like confrontation so I just let her. but when I was home I looked back on it and it was kinda hot 👍
Summary: You love giving Natasha control of your body, but you had never given her control of your breathing before. After a self-defense lesson, you discover you may like it more than you think.
Word Count: 4.3k
Warnings: 18+, daddy kink, top Natasha, dom/sub undertones, age gap, breath play, throat grabbing kink, new kink discovery, grinding, fingering (r receiving), some plot, a lil degradation, thigh smacks (like twice), scissoring (both ofc) , a lil overstimulation, making out, a lil subspace, aftercare
A/N: finished this fic on a flight with a man looking over my shoulder trying to see what i'm doing. like sir, this isn't for you.
—
The discovery comes slowly. So slowly, that even with your back pressed against Natasha's front and her arm wrapped around your neck trying to teach you self-defense, the dots don't connect.
"Baby, I'm only going to squeeze for a second so you know what the technique is, but always know you can tap my arm at any time before then if you feel uncomfortable or unsafe." Natasha meets your eyes in the mirror. Her arm is only wrapped loosely, allowing you to tilt your head up to maintain contact. You give her a mischievous smile.
"Well, I didn't feel unsafe in the first place, but someone insisted on teaching me self-defense," you respond with a teasing lilt.
Natasha rolls her eyes in that playful way she does when she wants to be annoyed with you but can't quite manage it.
"Sue me for wanting you to be safe," she says with exasperation, but the underlying worry in her voice grows. "There's been a rise in crime in the area and I can't always pick you up from your university. What if something happens when you're walking back home?"
You let your head drop down with a sigh. As you do, her forearm presses lightly against your throat. You know she's right. It's why, despite all your whining about how much you don't want to learn, you still ended up in the home gym in this exact position.
In front of this mirror, sunlight glinting off it from the midday rays coming through the windows, Natasha annoyed behind you. You pick your head back up, tapping it lightly against her bicep with a little smirk.
"I'd probably be fine. Like I have been this entire time." Light sarcasm bleeds through every word.
You feel Natasha inhale deeply, her chest expanding against your back, before letting out a heavy sigh that brushes against the crown of your head. It's the quiet fear and worry in her eyes that finally makes you knock it off. That, and the fact that you've complained before every single technique she's tried to show you for the past thirty minutes.
"But since you insist…" you drawl out, softening your posture.
"I do insist," she responds, completely deadpan.
You give her a little grin through the mirror, matching her gaze. "Ready whenever you are."
"I've been ready for the past five minutes," she mutters under her breath.
Her expression shifts. The playful irritation vanishes, replaced by the cool, focused seriousness of an instructor. "Okay, I'm going to squeeze gradually since this is just to show you."
She pulls you closer, erasing the remaining space between your bodies until your spine is flush against her. She secures her arm more tightly around your neck, the crook of her elbow aligning under your chin, while her bicep and forearm lock against either side of your throat.
You drag your eyes up, your gaze immediately drawn to Natasha's face that's looking down at you with concentration. Even without her squeezing yet, the muscles of her arm are prominent, all of them viewable from the tank top she's wearing. Your gaze shifts.
Your breath catches in your throat, not from her pressing yet, but from how the two of you look in the mirror. You love giving Natasha control over you, over your body, but you had never given her control of your breathing before.
She's just trying to teach you something, you chastise yourself internally, clearing your head when you feel Natasha begin to squeeze.
Pressure builds on both sides of your throat, making breathing more difficult, but not impossible. Heat starts to build in your face as blood becomes trapped. Your hearing begins to become muffled as Natasha squeezes harder, her bicep and forearm pressed tightly against your neck.
"Okay, baby," Natasha says through the ringing in your ears, "I'm only going to do the full hold for a second, remember what I told you earlier."
And then the pressure reaches its height. Her arm presses painfully against the sides of your throat. That lightheaded, fuzzy feeling you get when you stand up too fast immediately washes over you, your vision beginning to narrow. Your heart beats rapidly, threatening to explode out of your chest.
But then, Natasha releases you, wrapping her arms around your waist and holding you against her. You slump forward, your breaths coming out ragged through your mouth, your body trying to regulate itself.
You knew you weren't in danger. It was Natasha after all. You expected to feel relief after she released you. But what you weren't expecting was the rush.
This is what you imagine being high feels like. The oxygen-rich blood rushing back to your head feels like it was injected with exhilaration. Your limbs tingle pleasantly, warmth rushing through the rest of your body.
The sounds of your own breathing finally register in your ears and the tingling begins to fade away. You tilt your chin up, meeting Natasha's observant gaze in the mirror. But most of all, you notice your own eyes, wide and bright. You hadn't even realized the corners of your lips were upturned.
"Are you okay, detka?" Natasha asks, staring at you seriously.
You school your features as the fuzziness completely fades away. What was that? you wonder, but you notice Natasha is beginning to look concerned.
You give her a wide smile. "I'm okay," you promise her, your voice a little scratchy. "Now, are you going to show me how to get out of it?" you ask, straightening your posture. You lean your back against her and tilt your chin up, looking up at her playfully.
She looks down at you with a teasing smile. "I will, but can you try not to stall by complaining this time?"
She releases her arms from around your waist when she feels you wiggle against her. You turn around to face her, leveling her with a playful glare. "I wasn't stalling."
"Yeah, yeah," Natasha says sarcastically, turning around and waving her hand like she doesn't believe you.
She walks across the gym to grab her water bottle. You trail behind her, wanting to bother her a little more.
It's two steps in before you feel the uncomfortable stickiness in your panties.
—
It's a week later when you remember the way you felt during your self-defense training with Natasha. You had passed off the heat that you felt, deciding that it was probably just because of your close proximity to her. Life went on with you going to classes, finishing assignments, and meeting friends. All while missing Natasha, who was on a business trip for five days.
Or at least, it was supposed to be for five days.
"I just couldn't stand not being with my princess for any longer," Natasha breathes out against your lips, her hand tilting your chin up as she presses your back against the front door.
The cool wood of the door seeps through your shirt, making you shiver against her.
"I… I missed you," you murmur honestly, still in shock by her sudden arrival a day early. You meet her gaze with wide, innocent eyes as she rubs your bottom lip with her thumb. She's looking at you with so much affection that it makes your heart ache.
You wrap your arms around her waist, clutching the fabric of her blazer in your fists. She takes a step closer to you, if that's even possible, your head tapping softly against the door.
Her grip on your chin tightens. "I missed you too, baby girl. If only I could work from home all the time and keep you locked up here with me," she muses, looking up for a moment like she's actually thinking of a plan to make it happen.
She looks back down at you with an innocent smile, leaning her head down closer to you until your foreheads tap gently against one another. "But for now… I just want to spend time with my princess."
Her lips are just barely touching yours, the slight movement of her lips against yours making you want more.
"Natty…" you mumble against her lips, your eyes full of want.
You barely have time to blink before her lips capture yours in a searing kiss. Your head presses further against the door. The feeling of her lips melding with yours, her tongue pushing through the small gap between your lips, makes you feel lightheaded.
Her thumb hooks over your chin, forcing your jaw down to deepen the angle. Her other fingers spread across the side of your neck. The contact is light, but the heat of her fingers is immediate.
Her tongue wrestles with yours. It's a familiar game of dominance that you always play with her, even though you know you'll always lose. You feel her fingers press a bit harder against your pulse point the moment you try to fight back, sending tingles throughout your body. It's the same feeling from when you were in the gym with her a week ago.
She presses her tongue down against yours, finally winning the game. You feel the slight curve of her smile against your lips before she explores your mouth like a victory lap. You bite down on her tongue lightly. It's a silent, stubborn reminder that you aren't taking the loss lying down.
You feel her tongue pause its exploration, her breath brushing against your face as she huffs in disbelief. Suddenly, she shifts her leg between yours. Her free hand pushes you down by the shoulder, forcing your core flat against her knee as she follows your lips.
You gasp when the solid muscle of her thigh presses against your clit.
She begins to bounce her leg, releasing and returning the pressure over and over again. Natasha's lips leave yours for a moment, and the muffled moans previously hidden behind the kiss finally ring clear in your own ears.
"Natty…" you moan breathlessly, inhaling sharply when she bounces her leg a bit harder, driving your body down harshly against her thigh. "Need more," you whine, gazing up at her pleadingly. The few seconds of contact aren't nearly enough.
She raises a brow at you, her thumb dropping from your chin to the other side of your neck. "Then don't mess with me, baby," she growls before forcing her tongue into your mouth again.
Her hand grips your throat lightly, holding you in place. The slight pressure makes every breath just a bit difficult. Excitement courses through your body at the restriction, heat beginning to pool deep in your stomach.
You don't quite understand why, but you want Natasha to take more. You want her to hold your breath in her hands.
You release one hand from its grip on her blazer, sliding it up the arm that's holding your neck. You place your palm over hers, feeling the prominent veins in the back of her hand. Her fingers twitch at the unexpected touch.
Between the heat of her tongue and the tightening in your airway, your thoughts grow fuzzy. You press down on her fingers before you can think twice. Finding her thumb, you force it down against the other side of your throat—cutting off the oxygen more and drawing a strangled gasp from your lungs when you try to breathe in.
You feel the bounce in Natasha's leg pause, your full weight resting against her thigh when your knees buckle. Her fingers twitch, trying to release their grip on your throat, but you don't let her.
Her face pulls away from yours. Her expression morphs into puzzlement as she takes in your face. You hold her gaze even when your vision begins to tunnel at the edges.
You know she could easily break your grip and move her hand away if she wanted to. She knows it, too.
The sounds of your choked gasps begin to fade. You squint your eyes against the static forming in your vision.
Natasha's puzzled expression shifts, the corners of her mouth curving into a smile of disbelief. Her eyes dance with that familiar, dark amusement—the same look you've seen before when your body is trying to swallow a thick strap she bought.
Your grip on her hand loosens as your consciousness begins to slip. The moment your fingers fall away, Natasha releases the pressure, and your lungs force you to inhale sharply, desperately pushing oxygen through your body.
Your chest heaves as you slump forward, your forehead tapping against Natasha's chest.
You feel the blood begin to flow rapidly back into your head and limbs. The tingling in your fingers feels like sharp pinpricks, but the dopamine flooding your body along with the oxygen stops any real pain. The pressure of Natasha's thigh against your clit feels ten times more sensitive. Your body squirms against her to chase the friction before you even realize what you're doing.
Natasha gaze drops to your hips before her dark eyes lock back onto yours with certainty. A slow, knowing look crosses her face. Her body shifts slightly, and suddenly you hear her breath right against your ear.
"And here I thought I was the only crazy one," she murmurs, her hot breath sending pleasant shivers down the side of your body. Your soaking panties press uncomfortably against you, making you whine. You reach for her hand shakily, bringing it to the waistband of your pants.
"Off," you whine, your voice raspy but airy like you're in a dream.
Natasha leans back, you catch the tail end of her rolling her eyes before she raises a brow at you. She breaks your grip on her hand easily, moving both her hands beneath your thighs. She smacks the back of one of them lightly. Even with the light contact, it sends a jolt through your leg, making tears form in your eyes from how sensitive your entire body feels.
"You're not the one in charge here. Do you understand?" she grits out lowly.
You look up at her slowly, giving her that teary, apologetic pout that she loves. "Yes, sir," you mumble defeatedly.
She smacks your thigh again but a little harder this time, making you gasp and your eyes widen, a tear finally streaming down your cheek.
"That's Daddy to you."
Your lips jut out in a harsher pout. "You said only in the bedroom."
She leans back a bit more, hoisting you up. Your legs wrap around her automatically and you press your cheek against her shoulder, peering up at her. She raises a brow at you while turning around and walking further into the house.
"Where do you think we're heading?" she asks, amusement and arousal dancing in her eyes.
—
The sounds of your muffled, whiny moans echo through the bedroom. The wet, sticky sounds whenever Natasha drives her fingers into you make more of your arousal gush out around her hand.
You're face down, your cheek pressed against the silk sheets, your bottom up in the air as Natasha drives three fingers deep inside you over and over again relentlessly. Your ripped panties are strewn haphazardly next to your face, the rest of both your clothes thrown around the room.
Natasha couldn't help herself anymore the moment she'd carried you in here. She'd held the pieces of your panties up in front of you mockingly when she saw how soaked they were, telling you they were ruined anyways.
Her fingers curl perfectly against the soft, spongy spot inside you that she knows so well, making your fingers tighten around the sheets.
"D-daddy," you stutter out, moaning in between every syllable. "Gonna cum."
Her pace doesn't slow, rather, she rams her fingers even deeper, curling them at just the right moment as they retract. You shift your eyes until you can just make her out through your blurry, tear filled vision.
She has a wicked grin on her face, her gaze dropped low, watching her fingers go in and out of you. Her breaths quickening whenever you cry out when her fingers tap against the deepest part of you.
Her eyes drift to yours, her pupils so dilated, you can barely see the vibrant green you love so much.
"Look at you dripping all over the sheets. You couldn't just ruin your panties, huh? Had to ruin my sheets as well." You look down past your breasts. A thick string of your slick drools down your folds connecting to Natasha's expensive sheets, collecting there and darkening the fabric.
You close your eyes immediately, heat rushing up your neck to your cheeks. Natasha laughs behind you, her pace slowing slightly but making sure the tips of her fingers drag at just the right spots. You turn your head, muffling the cry that's forced out of your mouth when she uses her other hand to press a fingertip against your clit and drag it around.
She begins to circle your clit faster, her fingers driving into you following suit. The heat in your body spreads, concentrating around where she's touching you. The feeling of her touch only grows more sensitive, your insides throbbing against Natasha's fingers and tightening whenever she hits deep, like your body doesn't want to let her go.
"Cum whenever, baby. But just know, Daddy's not done with you," she informs you with an amused lilt, her voice a little breathless. The promise of what's to come makes the tension in your lower tummy grow, the heat becoming molten. All you can feel is her fingers stretching you out, her fingertip playing with your sensitive nub.
It only takes a few more thrusts of her fingers until the coil inside of your tummy shatters into pieces. Your bottom trembles against Natasha's bare torso as she releases your clit, placing her hand on your hip and pulling you back against her then away, her fingers moving in and out of you at the movement.
"Daddy s-stop," you force out, your voice shaking when Natasha continues, your body becoming overly sensitive. Her fingers dig into your hipbone.
"My baby girl wants to stop?" she asks sympathetically. It only lasts for a moment before the edge in her voice returns. "That's funny when you're the one who won't let me go." Your cheeks flush when you realize how tightly your walls are holding her fingers in place. You whine into the sheets when Natasha lets out a bright laugh.
"Fine fine," she says with a sigh, acting as though she's conceding. She wiggles her fingers out from your tight hole with effort, bringing her sticky fingers to your other hip.
"But it's Daddy's turn now," she announces suddenly, not giving you a moment before she flips you onto your back.
Your eyes blink open in surprise, drifting up Natasha's naked body to her face. She doesn't meet your eyes. Her gaze is lower, settling just below your chin.
"I guess everyone will know you're mine," she murmurs, her eyes darkening. "How could they not, when the imprint of my hand is right here on your neck?"
The corners of her lips curve into a satisfied smirk.
Your hand finds its way to your neck, your fingertips brushing against the sensitive skin where she held you earlier. The feeling makes a bolt of thrill shoot down your throat to your lower tummy, igniting the flames all over again.
Your breaths quicken as Natasha easily lifts one of your legs, placing it over her shoulder and exposing your core completely. She leans forward, driving your leg back closer to your torso. Her hand finds its way between your breasts, right over your sternum, resting her palm heavy against your skin.
"Ah!" you cry out at the unexpected sensation of Natasha pressing her clit against yours. It feels more sensitive then when she had been circling it earlier, the coil in your tummy tightening again. You try to squirm away, but she only shifts closer, pressing her hand harder against your chest, effectively holding you in place.
Your breathing becomes labored as she begins circling her hips, the most sensitive part of you rubbing against hers in an agonizingly slow rhythm. You look up at Natasha, your eyes pricking with tears from the overstimulation.
Her face is flushed, her eyes wide, still glued onto your neck as if she's looking at a wonderful view rather than the splotchy marks on your neck. Maybe they're the same thing for her.
She thrusts her hips harder into yours, the pressure between your cores growing. You hadn't noticed outside of the sounds of your increasingly ragged breaths, the slick sounds coming from where she's pressed against you. Your eyes drift down, finally noticing her arousal sticking to the sides of her inner thighs. Her slick melds with yours, creating a sticky mess between you that makes her clit slide against yours easily.
"Fuck," Natasha groans, her eyes close for a moment as she rolls her hips against you. Her hands presses down harder against your chest, making it more difficult for your lungs to expand. She opens her eyes, the green in them mere slits as her other hand slides up to your neck, her thumb tracing the line of your throat with deliberate pressure.
"You think I didn't notice the look on your face in the gym a week ago?" she taunts, her fingers tightening slightly against your skin. "Those bright eyes, that excited smile on your face. And then at the door when you forced my fingers to press against your throat." Her voice begins to strain as the motion of her hips begins to stutter.
You let out a garbled cry when her clit slides against yours aggressively, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks at the overwhelming ache in your lower tummy, the coil threatening to snap at any moment. Natasha's looking down at you almost drunkenly, her hand around your throat, her palm pressing into your chest making it harder and harder to breathe. The pressure mounting in your head, your thoughts turning fuzzy along with your vision.
"Daddy… p-please," you choke out, your voice raw and strained against the pressure on your throat. You don't even know what you're asking for. For her to squeeze harder, for her to roll her hips more, or for her to let you cum.
You let Daddy decide.
And in true fashion, she does all three.
She leans her head in close to yours, her jaw clenched tight as her movements become erratic against you. Your airy moans, the sound of you struggling to take a breath, and you whispering "Daddy" despite it all, driving her crazy.
"Fuck, baby," she grits out. "You crazy girl. You're making Daddy go insane."
She looks down at your hazy eyes, her breaths just as ragged as yours despite her airway being clear. The sticky concoction of your arousal is spreading all over you—your folds, your clit, and your inner thighs. Your vision starts to fade slightly, the edges becoming fuzzy.
Suddenly, Natasha's head drops down beside yours. Her long, low moan is barely audible to you as she releases your throat and moves her hand off your chest, placing her palms on either side of your body instead. Her hips stutter against you, her clit sliding against yours then missing entirely at random intervals, making it hard for your body to keep up.
The rush you felt in the gym and at the doorway doesn't even compare. It's like a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away, your consciousness flickering despite the harsh breaths you take in and release. Your entire body trembles uncontrollably at the dizzying electricity flowing through you. It feels like you could float away from the sheer lightheadedness, your head completely empty as oxygen perfuses through your body like a drug.
Your limbs tingle, your breaths taking ages to slow. Natasha recovers faster than you. Her hand, still sticky with your slick from earlier, cups your cheek. Her finger taps against your skin at a steady rhythm, and your breathing slowly begins to match the beats.
The sound of both your breaths finally registers in your ears. You hadn't even noticed Natasha moving your leg back down. It rests flat against the mattress now, Natasha laying on her side and looking at you with a soft, satisfied expression. She doesn't stop her rhythm.
You blink slowly. The lingering shocks in your body begin to fade, though the surface of your skin remains hyper-sensitive. Natasha gently rolls you onto your side, scooching you closer until your ear is pressed flat against her chest. Her tapping stops, letting the steady thump of her heartbeat do the work of grounding you instead.
Your thoughts feel distant, like they're on a deserted island while you're floating on the sea.
You just want to be with Natasha.
You squish your cheek closer against her skin, wanting to feel her more. Her hand rubs your back soothingly.
"We can lie for a bit," Natasha murmurs quietly, using that soft tone she saves for when she thinks you're on the verge of sleeping. "But I'm going to have to bring you water soon."
You let out a raspy groan against her chest. You don't need water. You just need her.
You hear the rumble of Natasha's low chuckle against your ear. "I know you don't like it, crazy baby. But it's necessary." Her feet tangle with yours under the sheets. Her voice lights up with a teasing lilt. "And here I thought I was the kinky one."
You roll your eyes lightly, not having the energy to do anything more. She's definitely still the kinkier one.
"Hey, I felt that, you know," she teases. Then, her tone turns more serious. "I could tell you wanted me to, but I didn't squeeze that hard. We need to talk about it more."
"Mmm…" you moan in agreement.
She huffs out a laugh, her chest vibrating under your cheek. "I bet you weren't even paying attention during the self-defense lesson."
You close your eyes tiredly. You were definitely paying attention.
—
A/N: before you go around doing this to your partner or yourself, just know that anything related to your neck/throat is dangerous 👍
i ended up finishing this smut one-shot on my notes but idk what I was doing because I don’t even understand my own acronyms LOL so let me decipher it today and it’ll be up tomorrow!
Is this a safe space to admit that I hate football because of the rise in dv when the team loses? It’s not footballs fault but my heart breaks about it
It’s always a safe space here! i see what you mean. those are the people who take sports way too seriously to the point it sends them into a rage when they lose.
I think the most I’ve reacted to a team losing was me letting out a cry of despair then moving on
