#Wlw marvel

[nessheartnat]

Lay me in the palm of your hand (2)

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader, dom!natasha x sub!reader

words: 2.4K

warnings: mommy kink, possessive nat, legal age gap (reader is 22 and nat is 38), degrading, fingering (r receiving), dom/sub dynamics, violation of traffic codes but we’re gonna ignore that, panties as a gag

notes: this isn’t properly proofread yet and I wrote this instead of sleeping so yeah I am sorry�� also please inform me if I missed any important warnings!

men & minors DNI

___

As soon as you both got into the car, Natasha put her hand behind your neck and pulled you in a rough kiss. Her right hand found its way to your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh. You let out a little hum into the kiss, leaning closer to the older woman, as you tried to deepen the kiss. You were almost getting a little desperate, despite the tough act you had put on before. Natasha’s lips curled into a small smirk against yours, as she became aware of your desperation.

She pulled away, leaving you slightly breathless. Her hand stroked your thigh in a possessive manner through the fabric of your jeans. “You’re just as good as I thought you’d be… We better get to my apartment then, unless you want to have a little fun in the car now,” she said with the same small smirk that was apparently permanent on her lips. You raised your eyebrow curiously.

“What do you have in mind then?” you questioned. In that moment you couldn’t possibly have had an idea what was about to come. 

“I think I might have the perfect little idea to keep us both occupied on the way to my apartment,” Natasha teased. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes a little. Of course she wasn’t going to tell you what she was planning…

“And you said I was the naughty one,” you pointed out, earning a small smack on your thigh.

“Hey, you’re the one who got me wet in the middle of a bar, teasing me with your dirty little words,” she remarked and squeezed your thigh again. Your lips quirked into a small smirk.

“You can’t blame me though, it was way too fun,” you answered boldly. From the look on her face, you could see that you were in trouble now.

“I’m aware of that honey, and you definitely had your fun… But I think I’m gonna have to punish you for that, don’t you think?” she said, still stroking your thigh. Her hand moved further up and slid right on your inner thigh, really close to your crotch but not quite close enough.

“Yeah I.. I think I knew that the moment I said all those words,” you admitted. Your gaze shifted down to her hand, and you finally started to acknowledge just how much your pussy was throbbing already.

“That’s what I thought too, you just had to be a brat, didn’t you?” she smirked. “Now, be a good girl and let me start using you.”

Hearing those words, you felt heat pooling in your lower stomach, and you just knew that your cunt was leaking into your panties. The thought of her using you was just what you wanted - no, what you needed - and you couldn’t prevent yourself from letting out a shuddering breath.

Natasha clearly noticed the way you reacted to her words. She could see how much you enjoyed her slightly degrading words, and she enjoyed having that power over you. “You really just want to be used like a filthy little toy, don’t you? You crave it, you need to be used by someone,” she spoke and slid her hand closer to your aching cunt. 

You let out a small ‘fuck’, and closed your eyes for a moment, trying to gather yourself. However, she didn’t give you a chance for that, as she continued. “You’d let me do anything to you… Anything I wanted, as long as you could feel used… I bet you’d even thank me for that.”

You bit your lip, refusing to let out a pathetic whimper. Natasha could see how you just melted with a few right words, the bold and bratty attitude replaced by sweet submission.

Natasha gripped your jaw gently, and turned your head to face her properly, demanding your attention. “Now honey, if you need a break, if you need to stop, at any moment, your safeword is red. If I hear you saying that word, I’ll stop immediately, no questions asked, am I understood?” she asked, looking at you with a serious expression.

You gave her a little nod, but her hand didn’t move from under your chin. Her eyebrow rose up a little. “Words baby, I need to hear you say it,” she demanded.

“Yes,” you quickly corrected yourself, but it wasn’t enough for her.

“Not quite right yet baby. Yes what?” she tapped your chin lightly, waiting for the correct answer.

“Yes mommy,” you said with a small blush. She really wasn’t going to let anything slide, but you could only blame yourself for that. After all, you had called her mommy before she even had the chance to demand that title.

“Good girl,” Natasha praised, stroking your cheek with her thumb. “Now, are you gonna listen to my instructions and do as I say?” she asked, her lips curling into a smug smile as you responded with a small ‘yes mommy’.

“Come on then, lift your pretty ass up from the seat and take off your jeans,” she instructed, making you look at her questioningly. 

“Wait what?” you asked, not having any idea of what she was thinking about. Natasha let out a small chuckle.

“You heard me, take them off,” she demanded. You didn’t dare to question her authority, so you got to work. Soon your shoes and jeans were on the car floor, and you looked at her, waiting for more instructions. 

“Panties too, love. I want your pretty ass bare,” she ordered with a smirk. Your cheeks turned crimson, but you obeyed her once again. As soon as your soaked panties were off, Natasha extended her hand out to you. “Give them to me,” she said with a smug smirk. Your needy cunt throbbed at that request, and you bit back a small whine as you handed the panties over to her. Natasha stuffed your underwear into her pocket, not commenting on how wet they were.

“Now, crawl over to my lap and sit down like a good girl,” she ordered, the smirk never leaving her face. Your face turned deep red, and your eyes widened slightly. 

“Wha- Right here, right now?” you questioned, trying to figure out if she was really serious. 

“You heard me, get your pretty ass over here before I get impatient,” she demanded. You turned to look around the parking lot, to see if there were any people. Natasha gripped your chin again, and turned your face towards her. “Oh so now you care about someone seeing? Didn’t seem to care that much when you said those filthy things to me in the bar…”

“That’s… You know that if anyone walks by they’ll get a great view of my bare ass when I crawl over to your lap..,” you whined quietly.

“None of that now. You caused this yourself baby, so get that ass here on my lap now. Unless you want me to spank you right here in the parking lot?” she said and patted her lap again. You knew better than to disobey now, so with a last glance around, you got up from your seat and crawled to her side awkwardly, seating yourself down on her lap and straddling her thighs. You lifted your hands up and placed them on her shoulders. Natasha placed both of her hands on your waist, holding you in place. “That’s a good girl. Now, are you ready to hear what I want you to do?” she questioned. You were about to answer with a nod, but then remembered that she wouldn’t accept that, so you once again muttered out a small ‘yes mommy’.

Natasha’s left hand shifted lower, and her thumb started to draw slow circles around your hip bone. “You’re gonna sit still right there and ride my fingers while I drive us to my place. And you better keep quiet, or I’m gonna find a way to silence that pretty mouth of yours,” she instructed. Your eyes grew even wider than they were before. 

“But what if someone sees, and- How can you even drive like that??” you questioned, even though the thought of that scenario was already making your pussy leak even more, forming a small wet spot on Natasha’s thigh.

Natasha let out a small, low chuckle. “Don’t you worry about that love… Tuck your head down on my shoulder and I’ll see the road just perfectly. Besides, luckily my car isn’t a manual, so I can easily drive and keep your needy cunt occupied.” 

You bit back a pathetic whimper and decided to accept your fate. “Fine..,” you answered, even though she wasn’t really asking. 

“Good girl… Now, keep that pretty mouth quiet,” she said and gave your cheek a quick kiss, and moved to start the engine. Then, she moved her attention back to you. “Head down, pretty girl.”

You obeyed, and rested your head against her shoulder. You could feel her left hand sliding to your inner thigh, making you jolt a little. Your pussy ached, needing her attention, and you had to bite your lip in order to keep quiet. 

Natasha slid her fingers over your needy cunt, slipping them between your folds and gathering up your slick. “Oh my, baby, you’re so wet already… God, you’re making a mess all over my thigh. Needy little slut,” she degraded, and you couldn’t hold back a small moan. Her right hand gave a sharp smack on your ass, making you whimper. 

“What did I say about being quiet, huh? Do I need to silence you now or will you shut your mouth yourself?” she asked, inching her fingers closer to your entrance. 

“No I’ll.. I’ll be quiet, I promise mommy,” you stuttered quickly, even though you knew it was going to be an impossible task. 

“You better keep that promise. But I know it’s hard for needy little things like you to keep quiet..,” she purred right into your ear, and with that, she slipped one slender finger inside your aching pussy, making you let out a shaky breath. You clenched your thighs, but they only quivered weakly, as your legs were being forced apart by her thighs. Natasha smirked, planting a few light kisses on your neck, as she moved her finger a bit. “Fuck baby, you’re soaking wet… Are you really this desperate for mommy?”

Before you could figure out a response, a second finger found its way inside you, making your thighs quiver more. You were struggling to keep quiet, but you wanted to be good for her, or more like didn’t want her to punish you more. Judging from this, you didn’t want to know what would be the worst thing she could do to you.

“You’re such a little slut for my fingers… Your pretty cunt is leaking all over my lap,” she degraded, shifting the gear to drive and placing her right hand on the steering wheel. She curled her fingers inside you, making you jolt and let out a shuddering breath. 

“You’re gonna have to keep yourself still, baby. Can’t have you disturbing mommy while she drives, right?” she said, while brushing your clenching walls with her fingers. You forced yourself to keep quiet, only nodding against her shoulder. Natasha let out a satisfied hum, and finally started driving. 

-

She had barely driven two miles, when you couldn’t take it anymore. She kept moving her fingers at a really slow pace, but pumping them deep with each thrust. Natasha kept curling her fingers occasionally, and by the fourth time she did that, you couldn’t help but let out a shameless moan. At first, she didn’t say anything, and you already thought that she’d let it slide. However, that wasn’t the case. 

Natasha pulled to the side of the road, stopping the car, and yanking your head up by your hair. You winced at the tug, knowing that you were in trouble now. 

“You really can’t listen to simple instructions, can you? Didn’t I tell you to keep that mouth shut?” she questioned. You opened your mouth to speak, but were interrupted by a harsh smack to your backside. You jolted, making her fingers go in deeper, and once again you failed to prevent a moan from slipping past your lips.

“I know you’re too desperate to obey, so mommy will have to keep you quiet,” she said, and slid her right hand to her pocket, pulling out your panties that she had stuffed there earlier. “Maybe these will do the trick.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but couldn’t let out a sound as she rolled up the damp panties and stuffed them inside your mouth. “Look at you now… Such a filthy whore,” she said with a mocking smile, and tapped your cheek. 

Without a warning, she thrusted her fingers deeper, making you moan around the makeshift gag. The panties in fact did their trick, reducing the sounds of your moans to small, muffled groans. 

“That’s better, isn’t it? You look so fucking pretty with those panties in your mouth..,” she said with a mocking smirk. Your pussy was clenching desperately around her fingers, her degrading words feeding your arousal more than you wanted to admit.

Without another word, she placed her hand back on the steering wheel and started driving. She kept pumping her fingers lazily, but due to your desperate state, you were close so soon that it was almost pathetic. Natasha could feel the trembling of your thighs, how your walls clenched around her fingers. She let out a small chuckle.

“Are you close already baby? Such a desperate little slut… Go on, I know you can’t hold it. You can cum for mommy,” she purred against your ear. You whimpered behind the panties in your mouth, and when she curled her fingers again, your orgasm washed over you. Your cunt throbbed and clenched around her fingers, pathetic little sounds leaving your mouth. Your thighs trembled, making you sink deeper down on her fingers. 

“Mhm, that’s it… I know you were too desperate, baby,” she said with a smug smirk. “But mommy is not gonna stop though.”

Her fingers continued pumping into your soaking pussy, but this time she only picked up the pace. You let out muffled whines, as you could already feel too sensitive. Your hands gripped her shoulders for support, and you pressed your face against her neck. Natasha let out a chuckle and curled her fingers, before she talked again. “Mommy’s not gonna stop, no matter how many times you cum… So you’re just gonna have to be a good little slut and take it.”

[cuinaminute229]

･ﾟNatasha Romanoff

One Shots - Series

･ﾟWanda Maximoff

One Shots - Series

･ﾟMaria Hill

One Shots - Series

･ﾟRio Vidal

One Shots - Series

･ﾟAgatha Harkness

One Shots - Series

･ﾟAgathaRio

One Shots - Series

[pugh-bug]

First Christmas

Yelena Belova fluff x female reader

Could also be read as x any gendered reader as neutral language was used incidentally

This is just a super short fluffy fic I was thinking about while in my room staring at my Christmas tree thinking about Yelena and Nat. I’ll definitely be writing more Yelena stuff btw, she’s my wife afterall. Merry Christmas for anyone who celebrates🎄if this season/month is difficult for you I hope it passes as quickly and smoothly as possible and if not have an amazing time doing whatever you get up to x

———————————————————————

It was Christmas Eve, the first you’d had since meeting Yelena, and you wanted her to enjoy it fully. Whilst she was out you’d decorated the flat with an inordinate amount of rainbow Christmas lights. In each corner you’d placed tacky light up snowmen and on each table you’d placed various ornaments and trinkets from your personal collection of Christmas crap. As for the tree, that had been tricky, but you’d managed to put something quite nice together with the help of too much tinsel and ribbons.

When your phone flashed that it was 8pm you admired your handiwork, feeling satisfied and hopeful that Yelena would be cheered. There was always that worry she’d climb into bed without saying a word, covered in cuts you’d have to clean while she retreated into her head but when the door opened you knew it was a good night.

“Y/N!”

You struggled to search her face for signs of injury, distracted by her beauty that never failed to dazzle you. She dropped her bag, refusing to take her wide eyes off the decorations you’d laid before her. “Did you rob a toy store for me?”

“No but I would.”

You watched her reactions intently. “Do you like it?” Without hesitation Yelena beamed at you, outstretching her arms for a hug. “I love it, you are so sweet.” Her Russian accent shone through as she spoke in your ear, hugging you tightly.

“I made snowman cookies,” you gestured to the nearby plate as Yelena clapped her hands in approval. “And I’ve got a load of Christmas movies we can binge, if you’re up for it.” As your girlfriend excitedly flipped through the pile of dvds you’d brought out to play you glanced at the presents under the tree.

Yelena had only recently opened up to you about her childhood and how her parents weren’t really her parents and that Christmas wasn’t real for her, just for show. It had broken your heart to hear her so quietly recall opening empty boxes only to pretend to celebrate Easter a moment later for the camera. She deserved real presents, real memories and a real Christmas. You’d bought her a lot, you knew that, probably too much but she deserved it. She was your girl.

Yelena rolled her sore neck in a circle, trying to crack it. When it did she turned to look at you - watched you watching her every movement and smiled knowingly. “Pyjamas?”

“Trying to get me out of my clothes already Y/L/N?”

She was even more beautiful when she smiled, her large eyes lit up. They were so intense and emotive but soft and calming all at once, you felt a surge of love towards her as you watched her change. Neither of you had said it yet but the feeling was there and only growing stronger. As had become ritualistic, you kissed every scar on Yelena’s body before doing the buttons for her. Something about helping a Black Widow assassin with basic tasks made you both feel comforted. Safe.

“Elf or Home Alone first?”

Yelena shrugged and you remembered that of course she’d seen neither.

——————————————————————

You managed to make the cookies last until half 11 at night, then it was time to break out the quality street tin while you half watched Elf. “These are a-ma-zing.” Yelena grinned before scoffing several orange creams as you had the last green triangle. You beamed at her, feeling endlessly lucky that she was yours at all.

“I got you something…”

She can’t help it, her eyes narrow in suspicion. Why would you be giving her something?

“I know it’s not officially Christmas yet but it almost is.” You pulled out the bag from under the tree and passed it to Yelena whose eyes were glazed over. A bag? Just for her? Of…presents? She hesitated, looking at you for permission just waiting for it to all be either a joke or a dream.

“Open them, they’re yours.”

Her heart sang at your words. She opened the first enthusiastically: lipstick and lip liner for the bolder makeup she’d been enjoying recently. “I love this colour!” You grin, watching her open the earrings and heels next. Everything you bought was bold and beautiful, like her.

“If you don’t like them I’ll take them b-“ but before you could finish Yelena’s body hit your own as she pulled you into a forceful hug. You were sure in that moment, as her hair got caught in your earring and her fingers gripped your back, that she’d never held you so tight. “Merry Christmas.” You whispered, still holding her. She hadn’t told you but ever since the two of you had met, Yelena had been half expecting you to find some excuse to leave - that you’d find yourself unable to accept her or see her as a normal girlfriend. Nothing could have been further from the truth. She was everything and more.

“I love you.”

Shit.

You’d said it aloud. Hugging her back, burying your flushed face in her plaited hair you prayed for a do over. A pause button until she turned your head to face hers and kiss you gently. “I love you too.” she beamed. Something damp dripped onto your fingers that cradled Yelena’s face, that was when you realised she was crying. All of your body screamed at you to ‘fix this’ ‘help her’ but Yelena only rubbed your knuckles and kissed your other hand, a warm smile on her lips. “Finally, a good Christmas.”

——————————————————————

Masterlist

Resources 🇵🇸🇸🇩🇨🇩

[wandascrush]

N.R. Masterlist

I do not give anyone permission to repost, plagiarize, or take credit for my original work. If you see this anywhere please let me know. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated :) Men DNI

Oneshots

Runaway Bride

For the first time

Series

Let the light in pt. 1 pt. 2 (finished)

Mom!Natasha series

Do I wanna know series

[reversedanatomy]

Finding Peace: Chapter 2

Summary: More of an in-between from the last chapter. Reader processing emotions after the breakup and making big decisions.

TW: swearing, some mentions of violence

Denial. This was the first step of recovering from a breakup. The note Wanda had written for you the morning she left was unlike her. When there was a serious topic that needed to be addressed, she always preferred face-to-face conversations, even when she was away for long periods of time on her international trips. Your mind raced like cars on a track, revisiting the same thoughts again and again until you grew weary from worry. You settled on an unlikely, but possible conclusion that maybe she was kidnapped. Yes, you thought, her kidnapper forced her to write this note with the intent play it off like one of her work trips.

You knew this was stupid, but you held onto the idea that she would be coming back. You always left your cellphone ringer on, now, in the slim chance that Wanda would be contacting you. You’d rush to answer your phone at every buzz, ding, or alarm you heard, even when you were out with company.

Your mom started to worry. She knew the situation between you and Wanda had been rocky for some time, and she expressed her relief that you two had parted. She would call you frequently, however, to reassure you and offer for you to come visit and stay with her.

“Maybe what you need is a new change of scenery,” your mom quietly suggested. You held the phone in between your shoulder and ear as you cooked over the stovetop.

“Yeah, but I’ve got a job here that I can’t just leave,” you retorted. You went to check the vegetables you set in the oven.

“It’s a pretty big company you work for. Can’t you ask them to relocate you?” You opened the oven door, feeling the heat burn across your face. You reached to check if your carrots were fork tender, and you shot back as you accidentally bumped your hand on the hot glass baking dish. You bit your tongue to keep yourself quiet, but the phone dropped to the floor.

“Shit, mom, I’m sorry,” you went to pick the phone back up and return it to your ear. “I missed what you said.”

“Don’t swear at me, Y/N,” your mother was direct.

“I’m sorry.”

“What I was saying was that you should ask to be relocated. Your lease is ending soon, and I know rent is increasing where you’re at. Without Wanda there, you’re going to need some help staying financially secure in a place like Chicago.” She was right. You didn’t have much of an option once your lease ended. You could either move somewhere cheaper, alone, or move back in with your mom in southern California. Both options stressed you. “I’ve already looked into it. There’s a position opening up to be a direct assistant under management here. It’s a bit less than what you make now, but, with your dad and I making dual income, you can stay here rent-free and bulk up your savings.”

“I’ll think about it.” If you gave her an open-ended answer, she’d pressure you less.

“Alright, hon. Let me know what you decide. I’ll call again tomorrow in the afternoon. Does three work for you?”

“Yeah, that works for me. Talk to you then.” You made quick goodbyes with each other before hanging up the phone and returning to your cooking. You held your hand under the cold water, letting the rush cool the anxiety in your head. You thought for a moment how your life was going to change when you moved out of your apartment, when you moved out of Chicago.

You ate dinner while searching for jobs on your computer. You investigated the job your mother was talking about. It was an assistant-to-the-manager position that offered significantly less pay than the social media manager position you currently held. Sure, you could put all your money into savings, but you sneered at the idea of moving back in with your parents when you were in your mid-twenties.

You continued to browse through the list of jobs your company offered until your eyes laid upon an office manager position that paid the same rate you were making now, but in a small, incomprehensible name of a town in Norway. You always admired the idea of visiting Norway. It reminded you of the mountains you and your family would drive through to go camping in the Pacific Northwest every summer. You also loved the idea of living near the water. Chicago’s waterfront was nice, but the pollution of the city ruined your connection to the water. Maybe this could be the change of scenery that your mother was suggesting.

It was a risky application considering you weren’t a Norwegian citizen, but you had more than enough experience from your current position to secure this job. You put your heart and soul into this application. When you finally submitted it, you leaned back into the kitchen stool and sighed. It creaked under your weight as you tilted your head back. For a moment you studied the stipples decorated across your ceiling. It was unlikely you’d be offered the position, but you felt more confident in leaving Chicago behind when you finished.

-----------------------------------------------

You waited several days. Every morning, afternoon, and night you checked your email both at work and at home, praying for a response from your job application. You hadn’t made your application aware to anybody yet. It wasn’t like you had a lot of people to tell, anyway. Since dating Wanda, you two had fallen into a state of codependency with each other. Wanda had possessive traits, and you were a doormat whenever those traits were expressed in an argument. Regarding your family and your closest friend Darcy, however, you’d need to be prepared to convincingly tell them why you were leaving the country to seek ‘refuge’ somewhere else if offered an interview.

You thought about this from the comfort of your bed. You held your phone clutched against your chest and continued to stare at the ceiling just as you had when you submitted your application. Your mind felt all kinds of queasy and restless. Nauseating. It was the type of nausea that bubbled in your stomach rather than your throat. You were thinking about Wanda. What if she came back when you left the country? What if she came back bruised and bloody after escaping her hypothetical kidnapper, looking for solace with you, but you weren’t there? It felt like torture waiting for that damned email. Waiting and worrying became more of a reason to keep your mind off of Wanda, off of the breakup.

You were so hyper-focused on if a decision had been made that you were neglecting the rest of your notifications. There were several texts from Darcy, one text from your father, and several missed calls and voicemails from your mother. You had turned the ‘Read Receipts’ option off on your phone so you could still peek at the messages without getting an earful from Darcy. She was wondering where you were, if you died, or if someone had by chance stolen you off of the streets. She then sent a copy-paste message that if you didn’t reply to her message you’d have bad luck for 7 years. You couldn’t help but giggle at that.

Right then, you got another message from Darcy. It read: I CAN SEE THAT YOU’RE READING MY MESSAGES, ASSHOLE!!!

Shit.

You rechecked your phone settings. You forgot to turn the ‘Read Receipts’ option off. Or, you had accidentally had turned it on sometime and just forgot about it. Shit, shit, shit, you started fumbling with your phone. Your heart started racing when a notification popped up that Darcy was trying to call you. Your phone buzzed and slipped from your hands, landing on your face. Your nose unfortunately answered the call, and you could hear Darcy’s animated voice booming from the other side.

“I’ve been trying to contact you for almost a week!” She whisper-shouted through gritted teeth. Her voice was breathy. Maybe her heart was twisting and beating just as fast as yours. You picked your phone up off of your face and brought it to your ear. The room started spinning as you tried to muster a response.

“I-I-I’m sorry?” You squinted your eyes and furrowed your eyebrows.

“You’re sorry? I’ve been trying to contact you with no response and you’re sorry?” You could hear Darcy exhale through her nose and scoff. “Look, I get it. Wanda ran away from you, but you need to stop running away from everybody else.” She was right. It hurt to hear, but Darcy was right, and you didn’t know how to respond. The words you were forming from your mouth lost all form and function, and they came out in a twisted scramble. You were playing a piano and pressing all the broken keys. You slid your fingers through your hair and gripped into your scalp.

Darcy just sighed.

“What’s going on?” Darcy lowered her voice until it was soothing and silvery. Her voice instantly settled into your muscles, relaxing you in preparation for the news you were to deliver.

“I…may or may not have applied to a job in Norway,” you closed your eyes and waited for Darcy to berate you about running away again. You heard Darcy exhale from her nose once more.

“Y/N, you’re acting irrationally because Wanda left. Look, you and I both knew this was coming. Fleeing the country isn’t going to get her out of your head. It’s just going to isolate you from the only support you have now.”

“Yeah, but what if I meet some hot MILF out there who turns my life upside down and fixes all of my problems?” You attempted to lighten the mood and forced out a laugh. Nothing.

“This isn’t funny, Y/N,” she emphasized your name to bring your attention back to the topic at hand.

“I know.”

“Then stay. There’s another internship opening up with Dr. Foster and you don’t need to be a college student to get in. You can work with me,” Darcy offered in the same tone your mother did when bringing up the assistant position back home.

“No, Darcy. I really do want this position. I think it could be good for my mental health to get out of the country and be somewhere new.”

“Do you even speak Norwegian?”

“No, but I can learn.”

“God,” there was a pause. “…okay. Wanna run by the bookstore with me tomorrow and see if they have learning material for that?” Darcy was being patient with you regardless of your spontaneous decision to leave the USA. She really cared about you, but you could tell from her voice she was worried, maybe even scared about you leaving. You felt sorrow fill your heart as you heard her voice break while speaking. You nodded to yourself.

“You don’t have to do that, Darce,” you replied.

“I want to.”

“Okay. Can I at least pick you up from your apartment?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then. Noon work?”

“Yeah. See you, Darce. Love you.”

Click.

[myriaeden]

Mystique x Destiny Lockscreens

Like and reblog if you use

Don't repost without permission

[inlovewithfairies]

OPEN REQUESTS!

Halo, i want to write some blackhill in this beautiful day of fuck secret invasion i write soft drabbles so if u want to send me a prompt or comment something you would like to see in something i write on my own i'll be grateful <3

[grechkathekasha]

(“sailor song” by gigi perez starts playing)

[rhfffas]

gay ppl never break up normally its always gonna be shit like this

[lucyllawless]

[vidalswife]

"She is my scar."

I fear this was the gayest line in cinematic history.

[nessheartnat]

Lay me in the palm of your hand Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

~It was supposed to be a simple bar gig, but the night turned out to be a lot longer than you had anticipated.~

Part 1

Part 2

Headcanons:

coming soon

One shots:

coming soon

Drabbles:

coming soon

[holyblanchett]

"This walk with another woman's son on a road that doesn't exist."

Are we really suprised that Rio crashed out at the end? Not only did Agatha reject her once again and say she never wanted to see her again. Rio was jealous as fuck about her care for Wanda's son when she's a single mom in the afterlife raising Nicky because Agatha's avoiding them both.

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You come home from college for the weekend but your parents forgot and you are locked out of the house. Luckily your neighbour finds you and they let you stay at theirs

-OR-

You think the neighbours are MILFs and the evening is filled with flirting and then you get to be fucked by each of them and then by both of them.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, top Agatha, top Rio, small mention of Mommy kink, strap-on use, oral, there might be more idk it's very horny

Words: 4.6k of pure horniness

A/N: I think I blacked out while writing this, its so horny. It's inspired by this request and hasn't even been proofread yet so enjoy the horny mess of it

Tagging @aceday because I said I would

AO3 | Part 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Masterlist

The rain falls in relentless sheets, soaking through your jacket, and the rest of your clothes, for that matter. Each step squelches as you trudge the familiar path from the train station to your parents’ house. By the time you reach the front door, your teeth are chattering, and your clothes cling damply to your skin. A sigh escapes your lips as you grasp the handle and pull—only to find it locked. Your heart sinks.

The memory hits you like a slap: the locks were changed after they had a break-in a few months ago. Of course, you’ve forgotten to get a new key. Fumbling through your bag, you pray for some miracle, some overlooked backdoor key, but your search turns up nothing except your phone. A quick glance at the screen confirms no messages from your parents and no backup plan. Frustration mingles with despair as you stand shivering, wondering what to do next.

Footsteps break through the downpour, and you turn to see Agatha, your parents’ neighbour, crossing her lawn towards you. You’ve exchanged pleasantries with her and her wife, Rio, a few times during your trips home from college. They’re always friendly, but you’ve never spoken beyond casual greetings. That hasn’t stopped you from admiring them, though—two stunning women, each with their own magnetic charm. And yes, you’ve labelled them MILFs in your mind more than once. Their son, Nicholas, is long gone from the nest, leaving the two women to embody a kind of confident, enviable domesticity.

Agatha snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts with a two short words. “Locked out?” Her voice is smooth, with a hint of amusement as she tilts her head and surveys you.

You open your mouth to respond, but your gaze catches on her appearance. She’s wearing tight black leggings that cling to her toned legs and a cropped gym shirt that reveals her navel, where a bead of rainwater trails tantalisingly down her skin. Her wavy brown hair is piled into a loose bun, though a few strands cling to her flushed neck. A sheen of sweat glistens on her skin—evidence of a workout she must have just finished. Your thoughts betray you as your eyes linger on the curve of her waist, imagining what it might feel like to touch her. A sudden heat rising to your cheeks.

Her blue eyes lock onto yours, a curious smile curving her lips. “Hey, you alright?” she asks, a teasing lilt in her tone.

You stammer an explanation about the locked door, your forgotten key, and your parents’ apparent absence. Agatha’s expression softens, and she motions towards her house with a nod. “Come on, you’re soaked to the bone. You’ll catch your death standing out here.”

For a moment, you hesitate. Accepting her offer feels… intimate somehow. But the alternative is staying in the cold rain, and the way her gaze lingers on you makes warmth crawl up your spine. You nod and follow her.

Agatha’s house is welcoming, with a faint scent of flowers mingling with something earthy and grounding. She grabs a towel from a nearby linen closet and tosses it to you with a playful grin. “Guest bathroom’s down here,” she says. “You’ve got two options: strip down and warm up, or stay wet and risk getting sick.”

Your eyes widen, startled by her bluntness. Agatha leans casually against the doorframe, smirking at your reaction. “Relax,” she teases. “I’ll get you something dry to wear.” And with that, she saunters away, not bothering to close the door fully behind her. Her confidence leaves you both flustered and intrigued.

Inside the bathroom, you peel off your soaked clothes, debating how much to remove. In the end, you leave your underwear on, wrapping yourself tightly in the towel. When Agatha returns, she hands you a pair of shorts and a blue plaid shirt. Her sharp eyes sweep over you, noting your wet underclothes with a tut. “All of it,” she says pointedly. “You’re dripping everywhere.” Before you can respond, she adds, “I’m off to shower. Rio should be back soon.” She turns and leaves, her movements fluid and deliberate, leaving the door ajar once more.

Feeling the weight of her words and gaze, you strip completely, your damp underwear joining the rest of your clothes in a soggy pile. You’re still mulling over what to do with them when the door opens suddenly. Rio steps in, her dark eyes widening as they land on you.

“Oh—sorry,” she says, though her gaze lingers a beat too long before she averts her eyes. “Didn’t know we had company. Agatha didn’t mention it.” Her tone is low and smooth, carrying a quiet amusement that makes your skin prickle.

You stammer an apology, clutching the towel back around you. Rio’s lips quirk upward in a faint smirk as she backs out of the bathroom, but not before you catch the way her gaze sweeps over you. Your heart pounds in your chest long after the door closes.

You quickly shower to warm up, but there’s no cleaning the thoughts inside your head. Memories of Rio’s lingering gaze replay in your mind, but they’re quickly overtaken by images of Agatha. You can’t help imagining what she looks like under the water, her skin glistening with steam, her hair sticking to her neck. The thought is startling, and you shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the fantasy.

After calming your racing mind, you dress in the clothes Agatha left and leave the guest bathroom to find the two women.

You find them both in the kitchen; the warmth a welcome contrast to the chill that had soaked through your bones earlier. Agatha moves fluidly between the stove and counter, stirring something fragrant in a pot that smells like tomatoes, garlic, and fresh herbs. Rio, meanwhile, arranges a bouquet of vibrant flowers in a vase with meticulous care, her strong hands working delicately to adjust the stems.

It’s domestic, serene even, but there’s an undeniable electricity in the air—one you can’t ignore under the weight of their lingering glances.

Agatha’s grin spreads when she notices you lingering awkwardly near the door. “Looking good,” she says, her eyes flickering over the borrowed clothes. The oversized plaid shirt hangs slightly off your shoulder, and her gaze lingers on the exposed line of your clavicle.

You fidget, tugging the fabric up, but Agatha only smirks, stirring the pot with a deliberate slowness.

Rio rolls her eyes, though there’s a faint curve to her lips. “Ignore her,” she says, her voice laced with playful exasperation. “She loves making people squirm.”

You manage a sheepish laugh, but it does little to quell the heat climbing up your neck. Agatha recounts your lockout predicament to Rio with the same teasing edge, her tone carrying just enough detail to make your situation sound both pitiful and amusing.

Rio hums in understanding, sliding the last flower into place and stepping back to admire her work. “Stay for dinner,” she offers, her dark eyes soft with genuine warmth. “It’s the least we can do.”

Agatha winks at you over her shoulder. “Yeah, we can’t have you heading back out into the rain getting all wet again—the downpour outside hasn’t let up.”

You nod, accepting their offer, though the way they exchange glances—subtle but charged—makes your stomach twist with something you can’t quite name.

As you sit at the dining table, Rio who is opposite you, starts pouring red wine into three glasses; her movements fluid and confident. Agatha joins you a moment later, setting down plates of steaming pasta and sitting next to her wife. “Hope you like red,” she says, her teasing smile returning.

The conversation flows easily over dinner; their attention split between each other and you. They ask about college life, your plans for the future, and your family; their questions laced with genuine interest and just enough flirtation to keep you on edge

When you have all finished, Rio stands to clear the plates, leaning close as she reaches for yours. The proximity is dizzying, her chest brushing your shoulder, and you catch a faint, earthy scent clinging to her skin.

Agatha doesn’t miss a beat, her eyes flickering between you and Rio, her expression smouldering. She doesn’t say a word, but the intensity in her gaze speaks volumes.

When you offer to help with the dishes, they wave you off with a chorus of “nonsense.” Agatha’s smile turns wicked. “Besides, we were supposed to have a movie date night tonight. You should join us—it’d be a shame to let all this wine go to waste.”

The phrasing makes you pause, but before you can think too much about it, Agatha ushers you into the living room. 

The room is cozy, bathed in the soft glow of lamps. Rio claims the armchair with an almost feline grace, crossing her legs and leaning back with a glass of wine in hand. Agatha sprawls on the couch, her posture open and inviting. She pats the seat beside her with an easy smile.

You hesitate for half a second before sitting on the far end of the couch, hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between you.

The movie starts, but it’s impossible to focus. Agatha stretches her arm along the back of the couch, her fingers brushing your shoulder lightly. The touch is casual, almost innocent, but it sends your pulse racing.

She leans over at one point to refill your glass, her chest grazing your arm. The heat of her proximity is overwhelming, and you’re sure Rio notices the way you stiffen. There’s a flicker of amusement in her dark eyes as she takes a sip from her own glass, her lips quirking into a faint smirk.

As the movie progresses, the conversation becomes more pointed. They ask if you’re seeing anyone, and when you choke on your wine at the question, Agatha laughs—a low, throaty sound that makes your stomach flutter.

“No,” you mumble, setting your glass down a little too quickly.

“Well, that’s a shame,” she says, her hand brushing your knee lightly. The weight of her touch lingers, even as she pulls away. “I was sure a pretty little thing like you would get snapped up in a heartbeat.”

Rio arches a brow at her wife. “Don’t scare them off, Aggie.”

“What? I’m just being friendly,” Agatha replies, her tone innocent but her smirk anything but.

The conversation continues, peppered with light touches and teasing remarks that leave your heart racing.

By the time the credits roll, the tension in the room is palpable. Rio sets her glass down and stretches, her movements deliberate as she rises from the chair. “What do you think of married life, Aggie?” she asks, her voice light but carrying an edge. “Think we make a good team?”

Agatha’s gaze flicks to you, her lips curving into a smirk. “The best. But sometimes, it’s nice to mix things up.”

The comment hangs in the air, heavy with implication. Your heart pounds as you glance between them, unsure if you’re imagining the tension or if they’re deliberately baiting you—and each other.

You nervously check your phone, hoping for a message from your parents saying they’re home and wondering where you are. Instead, you find a single text: “Out of town for the weekend, hope you’re doing okay!”

You stare at the screen in disbelief, your stomach sinking.

“Everything alright?” Rio asks, noticing your expression.

"They… forgot I was coming,” you admit, feeling foolish. “They’re away for the weekend.”

Agatha clicks her tongue, feigning shock. “Terrible parenting, really. Lucky for you, we’re not going anywhere.”

Rio nods, her tone reassuring. “You can stay here. We’ll take good care of you.”

There’s something about the way she says it—gentle but with a sharp edge—that makes your breath hitch. You thank them profusely, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks as they show you to the guest room.

They leave you alone for a bit, both going to change. You sit on the bed, your thoughts racing. Their lingering glances replay in your mind, stirring something restless and uncertain. Without thinking, you pick up your phone and start searching their names on social media. Your heart beats faster as you hope for a bikini picture or something—anything—that might help you satisfy the growing ache of desire.

A knock at the door startles you, and you quickly set the phone aside. Rio steps in, holding a phone charger. “Thought you might need this,” she says, her voice soft and her gaze steady.

“Thanks,” you manage, taking it from her. Her fingers brush yours for a fleeting moment, and she lingers by the door before slipping away.

Did she know what you were about to do?

A short while later, there’s another knock. This time, it’s Agatha, holding a glass of water. “Thought you might be thirsty,” she says, her tone lighter, almost teasing.

Surely she hears how that sounds, right?

Her fingers graze yours as she hands it to you, and the warmth of her touch lingers long after she leaves. You sit on the edge of the bed, clutching the glass, your mind spinning with questions you can’t answer.

"Okay, it’s totally normal to be offered a glass of water before bed, and it does not mean they can read your mind,” you whisper to yourself, trying to curb your horniness.

—

Later that night, as you lie in bed, unable to sleep, the events of the evening are still playing over in your mind, especially the lingering touches and smirks. Suddenly, you remember the spare key your parents used to keep hidden under the plant pot by the front door. Without even thinking about how weird it was to up and leave in the middle of the night, you hop out of bed and tiptoe down the hallway, careful not to make a sound. But just as you reach the stairs, a voice stops you cold.

“Exactly where do you think you’re sneaking off to?”

Turning slowly, you see Agatha leaning against a doorway, her silhouette illuminated by the faint light from her bedroom. She is wearing a floral robe, and her hair is slightly mussed; her expression is both amused and predatory.

“I—I wasn’t sneaking,” you stammer, holding up your hands defensively. “I just remembered my parents used to keep a spare key under the plant pot. I thought I’d grab it and let myself in—”

“Without saying goodbye?” she interrupts, stepping closer. Her tone is teasing, but there’s a sharpness to her gaze that makes your pulse quicken.

Before you can respond, another figure appears behind her. It’s Rio, wearing nothing but her underwear and a top that reads: BOHNER FAMILY REUNION. PITCH A TENT. Her dark hair is messy, and you notice a small, mouth-shaped bruise blooming on her neck that definitely wasn’t there earlier.

“You were being so good for us before now,” Rio says softly, her voice carrying an edge that makes your knees weak. “We said we’d take care of you, didn’t we?”

The heat in your cheeks is unbearable now, and there is a familiar wetness pooling between your thighs. You stammer out an apology, but their combined presence is overwhelming.

“Relax,” Agatha purrs, her fingers grazing your arm. “We’re not upset, just disappointed you wouldn’t come see us before saying goodbye.”

Before you can process her words, Rio steps forward, her hand gently tilting your chin up to meet her gaze. “Where were you going to sleep after grabbing that key, hmm? Your parents’ dark, empty house? Sounds pretty lonely to me,” she murmurs, her lips curving into a faint smirk as Agatha’s hands slide around your waist.

Rio’s touch is featherlight yet commanding, her fingers tilting your chin just enough to keep your wide-eyed gaze locked with hers. Her dark eyes glimmer with something unreadable—intensity, curiosity, desire, maybe all three. 

You’re painfully aware of Agatha’s hands on your waist, her touch firm but teasing, fingers curling just slightly as if testing your reaction. “And what would you do when you found out that they no longer keep one there? They stopped doing it since the break-in, don’t you know? Would you come back over here and beg for us to take you back in and keep you warm?” Agatha says softly, her breath brushing against the back of your neck. 

You try to answer, but your words stick in your throat as Rio steps closer, her thumb brushing along your jawline.

“She’s right,” Rio adds softly, her voice low and velvety. “Why sneak off when you’re already here?”

Your heart is racing, your pulse pounding in your ears as you look between them. You want to say something—anything—but the weight of their combined attention renders you speechless.

Agatha chuckles, the sound rich and almost predatory. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” She presses closer, her front brushing against your back now, her lips grazing the shell of your ear.

Before you fully realise what’s happening, Agatha and Rio are guiding you away from the stairs. You’re caught between them, their touches subtle yet deliberate. They lead you down the hall, past the guest room, and into the master bedroom.

The room is large but intimate, the air carrying the faint scent of cedarwood. A soft glow from a bedside lamp casts warm shadows across the space. Agatha releases your waist to close the door behind you; the click of the lock is startlingly loud in the quiet.

Rio takes the lead now, her hands resting lightly on your arms as she guides you towards the bed. Her touch is warm and grounding, yet there’s a deliberate slowness to her movements, like she’s savouring the moment.

“You’ve had a long day,” she says, her voice soothing but laced with something deeper. “Let us take care of you.”

Agatha steps into view, her smirk as confident as ever. “Or, we can stop. If that’s what you want?” She asks, tilting her head as she studies you.

Your heart pounds as you shake your head, unable to trust your voice. 

Agatha’s smile widens, satisfaction gleaming in her bright blue eyes. “Be good and use your words for us, hun.”

“Please don’t stop,” you whimper.

At that, Agatha moves swiftly to your other side, her presence as bold as ever. Her fingers brush against your jaw, turning your head slightly so you’re looking directly at her. “You’re so tense,” she murmurs, her thumb grazing your cheek in a gesture that feels both comforting and intimate. “We’ll fix that.”

You barely have time to process her words before Rio steps closer, her body heat radiating against yours. Her hand trails down your arm, her touch featherlight but deliberate, as if she’s memorising every inch of you.

The room seems to shrink as the weight of their attention consumes you. 

Agatha’s thumb brushes against your bottom lip, and you feel a thrill shoot through you as her lips quirk into that teasing, predatory smile.

“See something you like?” she murmurs, her voice a low purr. “You weren’t careful enough not to like some of our pictures online, darling.”

Shit. So their coming into your room was not a coincidence.

Before you can stammer out an excuse, her lips capture yours—soft but demanding, her confidence evident in the way she takes control. Her hands slide up to cradle your face, her touch firm yet tender, while the kiss is a paradox of teasing and intensity.

Rio’s hands suddenly slide to your hips, pulling your attention. Agatha leans back just slightly, her breath fanning your face as her lips curve into a smirk.

“Your turn, my love,” she says, glancing at Rio with a playful challenge in her eyes.

Rio doesn’t hesitate. Her movements are firm as she tilts your chin towards her, her lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slower, softer, but no less consuming. Where Agatha is fire and fervour, Rio is water, her touch calm yet undeniably intoxicating. Her hand presses gently against the small of your back, holding you steady as she deepens the kiss.

When she finally pulls away, her lips linger close to yours, her breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the room. “You taste as good as I thought you would,” she murmurs, her voice low and laced with something that makes your knees weak.

Agatha laughs softly, stepping even closer so that you’re cocooned between them. Her fingers trail down your arm, igniting sparks along your skin. “I think they’re enjoying this, don’t you darling?” she teases, her gaze flicking between you and Rio.

Rio smirks, her eyes glinting in the dim light. “I’d say so.”

They exchange a knowing glance before Agatha’s hands firmly grip your shoulders, and with a playful yet commanding push, they guide you onto the bed, the softness of the sheets contrasting with the harsh intensity of their movements.

Agatha walks into what you presume is her closet, but you don’t think on it for long as Rio is straddling you in a matter of moments. She is kissing you with a deep need; meanwhile, her hand makes its way under the waistband of your shorts; she swipes two of her fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness, letting out a groan of pleasure at the feel of it and brings her fingers to your lips.

Just as you’re about to take her digits in your mouth, you hear Agatha’s voice full of desire call, "Off."

But Rio doesn’t move; instead, she pushes her fingers into your mouth, groaning at the feeling.

Agatha grabs the woman by the scruff of the neck and yanks her off of you.

“But Aggie, they’re so wet already,” Rio whines.

If your lips weren’t already parted from having sucked on Rio’s fingers, your mouth would have dropped open at the sight of Agatha; she had removed her robe, revealing the purple lace lingerie underneath.

She places something you can’t see at the foot of the bed and comes to stand next to you. “It seems like everything you wear ends up soaked,” she says, mock concern coating every word. 

Rio looks longingly at Agatha, a silent request on her face. With a single nod from Agatha, Rio starts undressing you hungrily. And as soon as you're bare, her mouth is on you again, exploring every inch of newly exposed skin.

“You know,” Agatha drawls, “Before your little stunt back there, my wife and I were finishing off our date with a wonderful night in bed.” She continued. “Both of us talked—or rather tried to talk between our moans—about how we’d get you to join us.” You feel Rio smirk against your skin at this last sentence.

You shudder under Rio’s relentless kisses and Agatha’s firm gaze. Your legs are forced apart with strong hands, and you feel the cool air hit your heat.

“You’re dripping everywhere,” Agatha states for the second time that evening. “Now let us take care of you.” Her voice is sure, leaving no room for arguments.

Rio’s makes her way down your body, nipping and sucking at your skin. When she reaches your thighs, her touch becomes lighter, stopping short of where you want her mouth most.

“Please.” You beg, back arching up into her.

The feeling of her lips on your clit is pure ecstasy. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of Rio starting to suck lightly. Moaning, you grab a fistful of her hair and grind up into her face, seeking more. 

She hums in satisfaction, happy to fulfil your request. She nips gently and begins to tease your entrance with her tongue, dipping it in ever so slightly. It doesn’t take long before you’re cumming all over her face, her name falling repeatedly from your lips. It’s only when you start to come back down that you remember Agatha is still in the room. She is looking at you with sheer lust, clearly struggling to keep herself from interrupting Rio’s fun. 

As if they could read each other’s minds, Rio withdraws from between your legs and comes to sit behind you, pulling you up so your back is against her chest. She pinches one of your nipples, causing your head to drop back on to her shoulder. A firm hand grips your chin, forcing it back up, and you open your eyes to see Agatha kneeling between your legs, her hands rubbing up and down your thighs.

“You need to look at Mommy when she fucks you,” Rio whispers in your ear before playfully nibbling your earlobe.

Agatha’s arms snake under your legs, pulling your hips up and into her. It’s then that you feel something hard poke you, making your eyes go wide. At some point when Rio was fucking you, Agatha had slipped into a harness, a purple dildo secured firmly in the centre.

“Are you sure you want this?” She asks, bringing the tip to your entrance. “I’ll only continue with your enthusiastic consent.”

The fact that she cares enough to make sure you were definitely okay with this, only turns you on more. “Yes. Please, Agatha—" Rio's grip on your jaw tightens. “Mommy,” you correct yourself. “Please fuck me, Mommy.”

And with that, she slides into you, facing very little resistance with how wet you are. As she bottoms out, her hips pressing into yours, you can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips.

“Kiss me,” you demand.

You hear Agatha chuckle when she leans into you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss while still continuing her thrusts. 

The sex is messy and loud, and you cum at least two more times before the couple shows any kind of stopping. You are left gasping, your body shaking; Rio’s firm hold on you is the only thing keeping you upright.

“Think you can go for one more round, sweetheart?” Agatha teases as Rio climbs out from behind you.

With the strap still inside you, Agatha rolls you over so she is lying on the bed and you are straddling her hips. The other woman settles her thighs on either side of Agatha’s head, facing you.

“Honey, you really have enjoyed having our guest round, haven’t you?”

Rio doesn’t reply, only winking at you before lowering herself onto Agatha’s face.

You start to grind your hips at the sight, the strap hitting the perfect spot inside you, Agatha begins to flick her tongue over Rio’s clit, and Rio pulls your face in to start making out with you. This change in position has the harness rubbing against Agatha’s clit, pulling the most gorgeous moans from her. All of you are lost in waves of pleasure; the sounds of grunting, moaning, and whining filling the room. 

You all cum at different times, but it doesn’t matter because nobody stops until the last of you is coaxed through the final aftershocks of your orgasms.

Untangling yourself from one another, you and Rio flop down beside Agatha, dumb smiles plastered across all of your faces. It’s a few minutes before they get up, but Agatha takes off the harness, giving it to her wife before coming back and drawing you into her arms. Rio wanders off to their bathroom to clean it off and returns with a wet cloth to clean you up as well.

She rejoins you after she's done and presses a soft kiss to your head, coming to lay down behind you, draping her arm across your body. With the three of you like that, it is not long before you fall into a deep sleep, a small smile still visible on your lips. 

You were going to ache in the morning, but right this second you couldn’t find a single fuck to give.

——

Please like&reblog if you enjoyed, I thrive off external validation and it motivates me to write more stuff like this 👀

read part 2 here :)

[wandascrush]

how do I make more tumblr friends help…🙏🏼

[reversedanatomy]

Finding Peace: Chapter 1

Summary: The first chapter to a slow-burn Nat x Reader fic. Building the relationship between Wanda x Reader. First Marvel fic and post here so I'm still getting used to preferable layouts, writing styles, tags, etc!!

TW: 18+!!! sexual themes, bad relationship themes, alcoholism, swearing, aggressiveness, uncomfortable topics.

Gif not mine

You remember the first night that you and Wanda had gone on a date. You two met inorganically through a dating app. It wasn’t something you were too keen on using, but the dating scene was impossible in the area, and you thought you might give it a try. After meeting Wanda for the first night at a sports bar downtown, the sparks between you two were evident. Her confidence spread goosebumps throughout your body as she weaved her way through a crowd of people lined up at the bar to meet you at your table. She was more radiant than any of her pictures on her profile.

“Y/N?” She leaned over you, placing a locked arm on the surface of the table to emphasize her cleavage.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, in awe of the outfit she chose to shape her body. She then smiled and slid into your lap. Caressing your face with her hands, she pressed her lips into yours as if she’d known you for years. You let yourself feel every spark, every firework she set off inside of your chest. The callouses of her hands cupped your jawline. They slid up your face to push your hair behind your ear. Her kiss was warm as it traveled from your lips to the corner of your mouth and down your neck. Her hands followed.

“You waste no time,” you smirked and pushed her deeper towards you. It was all so warm, so familiar. “This doesn’t seem like the place we should be doing this, though. How about we skip the small talk and head back to my place?” You lifted her chin with the tips of your fingers and presented your offer. She gave you a toothy smile that reached ear to ear.

“That’s rather bold of you,” she replied with a twinge of sarcasm. You snorted and let your thumb glide across her cheek. "How about a few drinks first? I get a bit nervous on first dates unless I've had a few." You admired her forwardness albeit it wasn’t something you were familiar with.

“Could’ve fooled me,” a chuckle slipped from your chest. “I thought you were already a few deep and I needed to catch up.” Wanda smiled in response. She moved from your lap onto the seat next to you and pulled a five from her coat pocket. She slid it towards you.

“Catch me up, then,” she whispered into your ear and patted the five before crossing her legs and folding her arms in an act of seductive defiance. A grin curled at the corners of your mouth, and you rolled your eyes in response and clicked your tongue. You took the five and made your way to the bar.

After a few drinks and some small talk, you two left the bar hand-in-hand to wander the downtown streets. Winter was arriving soon, and the biting cold left you breathless. Wanda noticed quickly and drew you into her long, black overcoat with a light tan trim. Already, you felt warmer. Already, you felt safe.

The two of you wandered for hours, but it only felt like minutes. Once your feet started hurting, you two both settled onto the stair steps outside of some unlabeled Baroque-style building. Your hands interlocked perfectly together as you both shared her coat. Wanda made you laugh. It was a genuine, hearty laugh that you hadn’t laughed in years. She was laughing, too. She said that she loved your humor, and that made you grin even more. Your grin was followed, however, with a yawn.

“Starting to get tired?” Wanda yawned in response. You nodded, another full laugh slipping from your chest.

“I mean…kind of? But… I just don’t want this night to end,” you sighed. Wanda kissed your forehead.

“Who says it has to end?” You looked up at her, meeting her blue-green eyes with admiration. “I figured that was the intention from the beginning, so I may or may not have taken us to my apartment.” Wanda turned around and pointed to the third story of the building, where the faint glow of a lamp illuminated through the window.

“That’s rather bold of you, Wanda,” you made reference to her previous claim at the bar. Wanda struck you a side-eye, her auburn hair falling from behind her ear to frame her face. You shrugged. “Well, what are we waiting for? I’m cold as hell and it looks like there’s an apartment up there calling my name.” You stood up and took her hand into your pocket before turning towards the apartment. She stumbled a bit on the steps while standing up, but was eager and quick to let both of you into the building.

The rest of the night was one to remember. The way Wanda felt underneath you felt just as natural as when she kissed you in the bar earlier that night. When you two were ready to sleep, you held her close to your body. You never wanted to let go of this feeling. Everything inside of you buzzed, and a warmth rushed through your veins. You looked at Wanda sleeping in your arms. You never wanted this night to end.

---------------------

Nearly three and a half years later, all you wanted was for this night to end. You locked yourself in the bathroom as you heard Wanda in the living room smash her liquor bottle on the wall. You held your hands against your ears as you listened to her shouting about how much this relationship was breaking her, how you were breaking her.

Tears fell down your cheeks. This isn’t what you wanted when you two moved in together into a small apartment in Chicago after dating for a year. For as long as you could’ve remembered, the honeymoon stage never left. The butterflies still fluttered through the garden of your body when you held her in your arms. It was all perfect. All perfect, until the first argument.

Wanda drank. A lot. It wasn’t a problem at first when the two of you were frequenting bars on date nights with or without friends. As time progressed, however, and the two of you moved in with each other, you realized she was just as much of a drinker at home as she was at bars. You mentioned your insecurities about it with her when you noticed that it was affecting your relationship, but she turned up her nose to you and poured herself another glass.

She blamed her alcoholism on a shitty childhood and high-stress job. She never told you what she did for a living, but you noticed she was often gone on extended trips to places she said she couldn’t talk about with you. “Think of it like I signed an NDA,” she would say as an excuse. You sighed and accepted there were things you were better off not knowing. If you pried, however, another argument would start. The drinking would start.

This was one of those nights. Wanda said she was leaving in a week for an entire month on an international trip for work. “We had plans for our three-and-a-half-year anniversary and my birthday, remember?” You said.

“I know, but you know how work is,” Wanda pouted and gave you the ‘eyes’ that she always gave you to get her way when it came to leaving for work.

“No, I don’t know how work is,” you snapped in response. “I never know how work is. You never tell me. For all I know, you could be off fucking somebody or somebodies in Spain or China or fuck knows where else.” You felt the heat rise in your face as a pit formed in your throat. You were choking out your words now because you were scared. But… it was okay to feel insecure about this, right? Wanda told you that you shouldn’t, but all of your friends agree with you that if she’s leaving all the time that you at least have the right to know where she is.

“What are you, my mom? Stop being controlling.” Wanda wouldn’t make eye contact with you. She was sitting at the kitchen bar, staring at the ice in her glass as she swirled her drink. You became irate. You ran your fingers through your hair, gripping into your roots.

“I’m controlling? You’re the one who’s disappearing for weeks or months on end without giving me the time of day. Sure, I was fine with your work trips when they were planned in advance and only for a few days at a time. Now, it’s like you’re leaving every other week, and I don’t know when I’m going to see you again.” The tears began welling up in your eyes. They burned. You began pacing back and forth between the living room and the kitchen.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Wanda put her drink down and began getting up from her stool. “I wish I could tell you. I really do.” She was drunkenly stumbling towards you, arms outstretched. You noticed her coming towards you, and you started for the bathroom. “Y/N, please don’t do this right now.”

Now you were here, in the bathroom. You turned the lock and slid down with your back against the wall. Wanda pressed her head against the door and started pawing at it.

“Y/N, please don’t do this. Just let m’in ‘nd we c’n talk about it,” Wanda stumbled over her words as she continued to paw at the door. When you didn’t reply, she started knocking. Louder. Louder. Louder, she knocked until you finally responded.

“Wanda, please, just leave me alone. You’re drunk, and I just don’t want to deal with this right now.” You were crying faster than you could wipe your tears, but Wanda wouldn’t leave.

“Then just tell me to leave if you don’t want me around,” Wanda smacked the door before you could hear her walking back to the kitchen. Then came a crash as you heard what sounded like a liquor bottle, or maybe her drink, being thrown to the floor. Jesus, what’s happening to us, Wanda? You thought to yourself as you reached for the tissues to dry your tears and blow your nose. There was more stomping, and the sound of walls being punched before you could hear Wanda trudging back towards the bathroom door.

“This is all your fucking fault, Y/N.” Wanda smacked her hand against the door again. You flinched from behind the door, but you refused to respond. It would only make her angrier if you said anything. “If only you just didn’t question what I did for work like what we agreed on when we first started dating, we wouldn’t be dealing with this problem.” It’s different when we’ve been together for three-and-a-half years as opposed to a few months, you wanted to say, but you held your tongue. Wanda continued.

“I’m not fucking anybody else, if that’s what you want to hear. I’m loyal to you. I’ve only ever been loyal to you,” Wanda started crying and hitting her head against the door. “I love you, Y/N. I only ever show you that I love you. You’re my everything.” The banging stopped. “But if you want me to leave, just tell me.” There was only quiet except for the quiet tears you could barely hear from Wanda. Your breath left your body in a long, exasperated sigh. You lifted your head from between your knees and twisted your upper half towards the door.

“I don’t want you to leave, Wanda. I just want things to go back to the way they were before.” You spoke monotonously, making sure your voice was emotionless enough as to not set Wanda off again.

“It’s never going to go back to the way things were,” you heard Wanda slide her back down the door from the other side. This made you start crying again, even harder. You were scared. If she left, you’d lose three-and-a-half years with the person you thought you were going to marry.

“What happened to us?” You forced a laugh through your tears. You paused after saying that to wait for a response from Wanda. Nothing. Your smile faded back into sorrow as you buried your chin between your knees and looked down at the floor. Maybe Wanda was doing the same. Maybe she was also contemplating the relationship—whether it’d end or whether they’d keep recycling the same arguments and this same drunken routine. You knew nothing was going to change, but you still wanted to try. Maybe it was because you were more scared to be alone than to keep hearing her slam on the bathroom door and smash bottles. When it was good, it was great. But there were so many moments now that left you feeling weak, tired, scared, and unfulfilled that you pondered whether the good moments just made you feel safe, or if they were actually great.

Wanda never responded to your question. You sat up on your knees, took one last breath, and turned to open the door. Your hand settled on the doorknob. Once you opened that door, you knew all the memories you two spent together would shatter like the glass from earlier. You felt that pit rising back into your throat as you unlocked the knob and started opening the door. The idea of facing Wanda right now terrified you—not because she was violent and angry, but because you hated those difficult, uncomfortable conversations about what happens next between you two.

You turned the doorknob and took a step back. You felt the door swing towards you with the weight of Wanda as she collapsed onto the floor. She was passed out. If this was two years ago, you would be rushing to her side and checking her pulse. Now, this was frequent. Weekly. Daily, even. You kneeled beside her to confirm her breathing before grabbing her by the forearms to drag her into the bedroom. As you dragged her, you glanced at the kitchen floor. She only smashed her empty glass, not the entire bottle. At least this time it would be an easy cleanup for tomorrow morning.

Once in the bedroom, you spent no time pulling her arm across your shoulder to help her into bed. You pulled back the bed sheets, set her on her side in the bed, and pulled the sheets up to her chin. You contemplated giving her a kiss on the forehead, but you recognized that this could be the last time you two ever had some kind of physical touch. You leaned in and gave her a quick peck. It tasted bittersweet.

You crawled into bed next to her and studied her face. Wanda was sleeping so peacefully. Her lips were slightly parted, and her auburn hair fell over her face. She always slept with her hand under her face when she laid on her side. You thought one more time about the first night at the bar and the confidence she had upon meeting you. You reminisced on the times you two made love, contemplated marriage, talked about what having kids running around the house would be like, and how you two would grow old together. You wanted so badly for everything to circle back to the sparks you two felt that first night, as that was what kept you going through this mistreatment all these years with her. These memories flooded through your mind, until you finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

-------------------------------------

The next morning, you woke up to the bed empty beside you. “Wanda?” You called out for her. No response. She must either be watching TV, or she left to head to the store for breakfast. The pain from the night before held strong in your chest as you composed yourself before heading into the living room. You scanned for any sight of Wanda. The TV was off and there was no sign of her. The site on the kitchen floor where she smashed her glass was swept and mopped. Then, your eyes lifted, where you noticed a note left on the bar.

You instantly rushed to the note, feeling yourself grow heavy as you got closer and closer to it. You picked it up and felt your hands shaking as you read it:

Y/N, I’m so sorry for last night, and I’m so sorry for everything I’m about to write to you. We both knew this day would come where we would part. You and I both have been going through a lot, and I think it’s time that we spent time apart so that we can work on ourselves. Also, work sent for me this morning. I thought we would have more time together before I left to get some kind of closure, but they needed me urgently. I’ll be gone for a while, they said. Months, maybe even years. Please don’t go looking for me. I’ll be okay. I love you.

                                                                                                            -Wanda.

You fell to the floor and broke into tears. You let out an ugly, guttural cry as you held the note to your chest. It was over without any conversation. There was no closure. There was no last goodbye as Wanda would step out the door and leave. There was no watching her from the window as she’d walk through the city streets before melting into the crowd, disappearing from your life together. This note was quick and nonconfrontational. It was unlike her.

You put the note in your kitchen drawer and slumped onto the couch. Whatever came next, you could handle it. You always could. You switched the TV on and felt yourself cry. You let yourself cry. A new chapter would open for you, you just had to accept it.