#rvn : sydwrites

[redvelvetnat]

the me that you have made

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

summary : natasha is a big player in the world of illegal art trade. you’re the detective they sent undercover to take her down. no one expected you to fall in love, abandon your mission, and run away with her.

disclaimer : 18+, strong language, semi-public sex, strap-on use, dirty talk (praise + degradation + pet names), implied criminal activity (by the summary, not so much in the fic), mentions of lingerie.

author’s note : gif source. here’s a drabble ig, i struggled over this for months because i couldn't write a decent plot then i decided i don't have to force myself to make everything i write into 4k word fics. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated.

“God, this view - amazing isn’t it?”

Maybe if you didn’t know Natasha as well as you do, the words would feel less filthy as they leave her swollen lips. But there’s no other word to describe the feeling of her too-eager hands or the sound of the moan that unhitches from your tired throat.

From where you stand on the balcony, skin adorned with the imprint of the metal railing, entire buildings kneel obediently at your feet and the remnants of the evening sun begin to dissipate behind them. Hightown is beautiful at this time of day - or any time, really. But she’s not talking about the city, you know her better than that.

“Oh, Hightown could never compare to you, my love.” She breathes against your ear, as if you needed any confirmation from her.

The innocent, young detective you used to be washes away with the arousal that floods down your thighs. You don't bother to mourn that version of yourself, she never would have been able to stomach the sort of luxury you know now - the kind that brings you over the edge of your penthouse balcony, half-naked, and filled to the brim with your girlfriend's thick silicone cock.

The music that floats up from downstairs is faint and only stands as an irritating reminder of the auction she was meant to be hosting nearly fifteen minutes ago. There's a collection of suits she keeps docked at the bottom of the stairs who, you're sure, are awaiting her belated return with displeasure.

She doesn't care. The smile is already etched into her face as she slithers a calloused palm up the length of your naked back and buries it in the roots of your hair, pulling delightedly and watching as you unfold underneath her. "Just like that, baby." She coos, pulling tighter at the hair she has clutched in her fist.

Your voice crumples when you call her name into the dusk air, the arm you've flung behind you to scratch wantonly at her clothed abdomen does little but spur her on. Her hips pick up their pace until you're almost sure she'll split you in half.

"What is it, honey?" She starts, "Having trouble keeping up? Do you need me to slow down, angel?" She's mocking you, you realize. She wouldn't dare slow down when the brutal pace she's set makes you writhe and whimper the way you do. Your legs strain against the dress she only bothered to pull halfway down your thighs.

"You're getting close, I can feel it. You gonna make a big mess for me, baby? Walk around my party with your own cum leaking down your thighs?" You're nodding before you have the chance to stop yourself - to which question, you're not sure, but the enthusiasm is there, nonetheless.

A part of you wishes she'd stop talking, if only to prolong the orgasm that begins to sneak up on you quickly. The other part of you is too eager to cum for her to care about how quick you are to do so. The feeling you've been fighting rolls in and nestles deep in your stomach, tightening there.

"Please, Tasha."

She doesn't - or, rather, can't - fight the satisfied groan that rises in her chest. She's always admired the way you submit to her; feeding off the desperation that glints in your eyes and the way she never has to prompt you to beg. You just do it, for her, because you want to.

Her hand finally falls from your hair, only to wrap around your throat where she uses the grip she establishes there as leverage to hold your back against her chest. "Show me how pretty you look when you cum, angel."

Your scream is just barely drowned out by the drum of generic pop music and traffic. Your nails sink into her skin and she grunts at the pain, mouthing sloppily at your shoulder. The tears that roll down your cheeks communicate to her the staticky pleasure that washes over you.

"So good, baby." She encourages, helping you down with the same calculated rhythm she's come to know all too well, "So fucking good." Gentle kisses liter up the nape of your neck until she seals the entire affair with a kiss.

Your strength comes back just enough to stagger away from her on shaky legs and follow as she bounds into the unlit apartment. If the risk of punishment wasn't so severe, you'd tell her to wipe that stupid fucking smirk off her face but you'd rather avoid being bent over her lap and sent into her party with welts across your ass.

Barely recovered, you manage to shimmy the dress back over your shoulders and attempt to straighten it out. Your eyes flicker up just in time for Natasha to emerge from the bathroom, tucking the freshly-cleaned strap into her dress slacks with a cocky smile.

Before you know it, she's leaning in to plant a kiss to your tear-stained cheek. "You're so pretty when you cry." Heat creeps up the skin of your neck as you thank her in an embarrassed squeak. "You'll clean up and meet me downstairs?" It comes out as more of an order than a question.

"Or..." You muse, strategically ducking into the bathroom where she won't be able to see the smirk that sparks across your lips, "I could stay here and wait for you. I have something very red and very lacy for you to unwrap when you get back."

She stops to think about it, you can tell by the silence that suddenly engulfs the room. Like the business woman she's always been, she weighs her options carefully.

She loathes the idea of showing up without her favorite piece of arm candy at her side, that much she knows for sure. But the reward of finding you at the end of the night - splayed across the bed in that ruby-red garter belt she has yet to see you in - could be satisfactory enough to make up for it.

Really, it comes down to how much she thinks it's worth to have the instant gratification of watching her business partners drool over the sight of you in the dress she’d just had hanging from your thighs.

"Ten minutes." It's worth a lot, apparently. "Don't make me come back here and get you."

The bedroom door clicks as it shuts, and again when she reopens it, "I'll make it worth your while, baby." You can hear the smile in her voice and laugh as the door closes one final time and she doesn't bother circling back to check that you've agreed.

You'll obey her. You always do.

[redvelvetnat]

NAVIGATION

— disclaimer : minors please do not interact, this blog and all of its contents are 18+ only! spoiler content is present but tagged according to its media. trigger warning for flickering and/or flashing gifs.

— reading : here you can find request guidelines. blurbs can be found under the tag rvn : sydsblurbs and all works can be found under the tag rvn : sydwrites. for notifications, see @thevelvetlibrary.

MASTERLISTS

— natasha romanoff • wanda maximoff • miscellaneous

— moments silence au

[redvelvetnat]

flowers grow out of my grave

vampire!natasha romanoff x wife!reader

summary : natasha and her all-female vampire coven make a point of their hatred towards humanity. but she has her own reasons for keeping you, her loving and devoted human wife, from joining in her living death. word count : 4.3k

disclaimer : 18+, strong language, murder of a priest, a fuck ton of lore, smut, blood kink + sucking, dirty talk (praise + degradation + pet names), fingering, hair pulling

author’s note : gif source. i was really not in a good headspace to write for a long time. this pile of flaming garbage is my gift. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3

It started with an orgasm.

That was the deal - the rule Natasha set when the two of you got married. If she wanted blood from you, she was going to have to give something first. What better to give than an earth shattering orgasm? - she figured.

This deal was an inconvenience to neither of you, unless, of course, either was interrupted before the other. In which case, Natasha was burdened with an incurable sort of hunger.

Most unfortunately for her, tonight was one of those nights.

You find yourself standing outside one of the cells in the castle’s dungeon, holding yourself against the stone wall on shaky legs and the taste of your cum still lingering on your wife’s tongue, which swipes angrily over her extended fangs.

The priest, if his cassock and Natasha’s blatant overuse of the title father is anything to go by, trembles on his knees in front of her - a position, it’s safe to say, you’d much rather find yourself in.

Natasha would agree. As someone who’s been longing to sink her teeth into you for a number of hours, her only goal is to relieve herself of the hunger that burns ever hotter inside of her.

“Father,” she starts, “I have severely more importantly things to worry about than a priest who doesn’t know how to keep his fucking nose out of my business. Surely, that’s no surprise to you?” Her nails, nearly as sharp as the fangs protruding past her lips, are sunk into either side of his jaw.

He chokes on a plead when he looks up at her, ‘please don’t kill me, my people, they need me’, but his cries are inefficacious. Natasha has never cared much for priests, and her patience is a candle in the wind on a good day.

“Your people,” she hisses through a tight jaw, “would be disappointed in how fucking pathetic you look right now.” He cycles through a number of different emotions in the seconds that follow - hopelessness, exasperation, disgust.

When he swings his hand forward to catch the rim of her boot, no one bats an eye. Her sensitive ears only twitch at the rattling of the chains connecting his wrists and the sharp end of her heel locks his binds against the floor.

Hot tears roll down the apples of his cheeks and splash onto the cement below. “Ow - please!” If he’s looking for someone to take pity on him, he won’t find them here.

“Quit your stupid fucking crying.” She plucks a maroon-colored cloth from her breast pocket and shoves it into his slobbering mouth but he only continues to blubber stubbornly through the thick fabric.

She stops to think, or pretend to at the very least, and a blind hope rushes onto his face. You almost feel sorry for him as you watch him cling onto the idea that he could make it out of this alive.

If his crimes, which you’re still unsure of but certainly won’t ask about, aren’t enough to drive your wife into a murderous rage, his irritatingly loud whimpering will be.

He’s fucked, to put it plainly.

The tension is thick and you hold your breath - watching between your lover, the quivering priest, and the four women who stand, silently, against the far wall. Then, a sadistic smile curls onto Natasha’s features, “Dispose of him.”

All at once, three of the four women launch themselves towards him; brandishing their fangs and sinking them into his flesh. You expel a breath, his screams intertwine with the mewling of satisfied beasts.

Without anything more, Natasha turns on her heel to call for the only woman who remains at the wall, ‘Maximoff, come along’, and takes your hand in route to the stairs.

The young brunette attaches herself to your trail, looking as if she had never seen anything so disturbing in her life and you figure - it being her first day in the castle - that she probably hadn’t.

The three of you remain silent through the first few halls, accompanied only by the soft echo of your footsteps and the whisperings of centuries-old ghosts. Natasha liked it this way, quiet enough to finally gather the thoughts in her head.

After a few corridors, Wanda speaks up, “So you’re really Natasha Romanoff?”

It wasn’t hard to tell that she was young, probably the youngest you’ve ever seen in Natasha’s coven. And, with her age, came a sort of curiosity that most of the women had lost long before they reached the castle.

Natasha, unbothered by the brunette’s youthful energy, rounds the corner with her doe-eyed new companion at her heels, “My father was a healer who dabbled in dark magic. He turned me by accident when I was a child.”

She looks back, only briefly, to check that Wanda is still listening, “He built this castle and the village below it to protect people like us.”

It sounded so mundane the way she told it - without all the gore and sorrow that came with being ‘alive’ for thousands of years and destined to do so for thousands more.

“The village too?” Wanda questions curiously, eyebrows furrowing as she tries to keep herself from falling too far behind the two of you. “In the beginning - yes. But it has been long overrun by mortals. This castle is our only true sanctuary, now.”

Dramatic as she is - and she is dramatic - she’s right. The list of living, breathing humans who could cross the threshold into Natasha’s home and live to remember it is incredibly short.

In fact, so few people had ever seen the inside that it had become a sort of tale for the villagers of Alianovna. They had, affectionately, named it The Midnight House; an endearing title for a place that regularly played setting to most (if not all) of their modern ghost stories.

Anyone who had ever stepped foot inside the local pub had likely fallen prey to the bartender - Sir Odinson, he called himself - going on and on with his tales of the unusually pale beings that lived in The Midnight House.

Of course, no one had ever really taken his stories seriously besides the hordes of women who crowded one end of the bar to fawn over the muscled beast of a man.

‘Petrifying creatures - vampires.’ He’d say with a mouth full of cheap whiskey, ‘First time I ever saw one, I was half-way up the mountain with nothing but a trekking stick to defend myself.’

And the women, who never listened very well past all the heroic parts anyway, would collectively swoon - ‘you’re so brave, Thor!’, and ‘you poor thing!’ and ‘please, keep going, sir!’.

He’d curl his finger around the neck of his shirt and pull it down to reveal a single, jagged scar along the crest of his collarbone, ‘only left with this, now’, although it had always looked more like a messy knife wound than a bite.

You often dreamed of watching his audience’s faces if you ever stopped him, mid story, to explain that, not only was their village littered with the creatures they had all become so afraid of, but that it was built for them and named after their leader - Natasha Alianovna Romanoff.

“What about you?” Wanda asks suddenly, eyebrows tight with curiosity, “Have you been one of us for long?” She’s innocent in her curiosity but Natasha hardens and you can feel her rising tension through the vice grip she has on your hand.

Wanda is too young - still trying to make sense of her newfound strength, incurable thirst, and the millions of sounds rushing through her ears at all times - so it doesn’t surprise you that the sound of your beating heart is lost on her.

You only give her a smile, “I’m human, Wanda.”

The utter surprise that follows is expected, the way she chokes on her words and halts to a stop in the middle of the foyer. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest. It does, however, upset your wife.

You allow Wanda a moment of silence to collect herself but Natasha beats you to breaking it. Never late to your defense, she swivels on one heel with her teeth already barred and eyes glowing red as she looks down on the wide-eyed young fledgling.

“Human or not,” she snarls, “she is still part of this coven’s leadership and will be treated with respect. Do I make myself clear, Maximoff?” The fear is apparent on Wanda’s face and she can do nothing but nod stupidly under her superior’s harsh stare.

Though she means well, you know Natasha will only do more harm in trying to intimidate Wanda this way. You sigh gently, squeezing her hand in yours, “I think she gets the point, Tasha.” You assure in a whisper, trying to ease her down slowly

As the tension melts begrudgingly from between her shoulders, you redirect her to the set of large wooden doors at the end of the hall - adorned with the Romanoff family crest in all its glory.

Wanda catches your eyes for only a second and you attempt to calm her nerves with a silent reassurance as two well-dressed, male servants pull the doors open for the three of you.

The apologies that had been brewing in Wanda’s chest melt when she meets the two glimmering silver thrones that stand proud against one wall, both stitched with the same maroon fabric that accents most of the castle.

Your hand grazes over the garnet spider pin at the chest of your wife’s blazer before you part with a chaste kiss. She diverts, Wanda by her side, to a corner of the room where Carol, Maria, and Sharon are still cleaning the priest’s blood off their mouths.

As they reacquainted themselves with Wanda, fed and mostly satisfied, no one is oblivious to Wanda’s failed attempts to take quick peeks of you. The three women each send you inquisitive glances that you dismiss with a wave of your hand.

Her eyes focus, mostly, on the lively skin of your face and her ears are suddenly attuned to the beating of your heart - all things you already expect from the vampires you meet.

Maria, ever your protector, has already puffed her chest in much the same way Natasha has and the other two are quick to follow. Admittedly, it takes a great deal of effort for you not to laugh at their antics.

You wonder if Wanda will have the courage to ask her superiors the questions that burn in her throat - ‘why’d she let a mortal into the castle?’ and ‘why hasn’t she turned her yet?’

Natasha still looks unsure when she joins you at her own throne, moments later. “Give her time, Natasha. This is how it always goes.” You whisper softly against the sharp edge of her jaw.

Maybe it’s because she meets your eyes, then, or she knows your words have truth to them; but her eyes flash a loving amber color. She had spent so long loving you that it rarely occurred to her that anyone could…not.

“You’re right.” She finally murmurs. You only smile at her admission, “Of course I am. Now, how about you get to it? I know all of you are excited to feed.”

“Ladies,” her eyes light up as she stands, waiting for the scattered women to turn their strayed attentions back to her, “Tonight, you must remember your own safety above all else. I’ve received word of a new gang of hunters in the area and we cannot afford to lose any more of us.”

Eyes shift nervously across the room, every woman painfully aware of Natasha’s grim history with vampire hunters. “So, while I do encourage you all to feed to your cold heart’s content, please be smart and stay close to one another.” Excitement rises in their eyes.

“As soon as Wanda is escorted to her living quarters and acquainted with the rest of you, your night may commence.” Everyone twitches to look in the direction of their newest addition, uncertainty looming in the air.

Wanda retreats into herself at the attention and you only clear your throat, “You are dismissed. All of you.” Their exits are swift; courteous nods, soft bids farewell, and a whisper of ‘play nicely’ from you to the three woman who haven’t stopped eyeing Wanda suspiciously.

Natasha makes no effort to move as she watches them part and waits for the sweet silence to blanket the room once more. Watching her collapse into an exhausted heap on her throne, overwhelmed by stress and hunger, causes an ache to settle in your heart.

The truth was a harsh reality; that, as long as you were alive and well, Natasha would always be assured a stable food source. But the same guarantee did not extend to the rest of her coven, no matter how dangerous it got for them to hunt.

“They’ll be alright, Tasha. They’re smart women.” Is all you offer. It won’t help, you both know that as well as the other, but she appreciates the effort above anything. You decide to give her a moment, choosing instead to move towards the window where you can see the moon just beginning to rise over the mountains.

Shadows sprint into the darkness, quick as lightning and eerily indistinguishable. It will, without a doubt, be a long night of distant screams and unexplained blood splatters that the maids will curse them all for in the morning.

You become sickeningly aware of your own aliveness as you watch them all disperse into the village to prey on the unsuspecting townspeople. Your heart, which had otherwise felt idle in your chest, rises to your throat and begins to pound unusually hard.

A rush of cold blankets the air behind you, “That pretty heart of yours beating that hard just for me?” Her voice comes against the shell of your ear; quiet and soft and playful and all the things that make your spine twitch with excitement.

She lowers her head to your neck, listening closely for the flow of blood through your veins, and presses a kiss to the source of your pulse.

“You know what I think, petal?” It’s not a question - not really. She’s going to tell you no matter what and you’ll be defenseless against your attraction to the tone in her voice, anyway.

She’s towering over your smaller frame when you spin to look at her; face darkened by the shadows of the moon and eyes wild. She’s getting hungrier - and needier by default.

“I think you look absolutely delicious.” You could laugh at her. Though it’s, technically, a compliment, you roll your eyes at the poor attempt to soften you up. You know how badly she wants to feed - to quench that thirst - but she also loves you too much to let you think that it’s all she cares about.

“All helpless and delicate, just flesh and bone. Fuck, I really could just eat you up. That excites you, doesn’t it?”

The beating of your heart gives you away. Her voice is dark, much darker than it had been all day and you know the hunger is mostly to blame but that doesn’t stop the pathetic whimper that unhitches itself from your throat.

Would it be so wrong to agree?

You’re prepared to speak, to argue that you aren’t that sick or twisted - even if you are. But she pressed a faint kiss to your collarbone and pushes her thumb past your parted lips, effectively muffling any response.

Her eyes, glowing in the partial darkness, lock onto your lips as they enclose around the digit. She probes at your tongue, her chin lifting just enough for her to have to look down on you. “That’s it - that’s a good girl.”

The praise does little to quell either of your excitement, and the heat swelling between your legs almost startles you. Still wet and glistening with your spit, her finger makes a distinct pop when she retracts it and traces it over your bottom lip, “Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask.” You assure her, just as hungry for her attention as she is to give it to you. But a smirk curls across her lips, “I want to hear you say it.”

Something akin to a whine leaves your throat and you can only hope that the ‘kiss me, please just kiss me’ that follows is enough to satisfy her.

To your relief, she surges forward almost immediately; all teeth and tongue when she delves into your mouth to explore anything and everything she can reach. It’s a filthy montage of hungered kisses.

The thoughts in your head are loud to her - the soft ones, the eager ones, the ones that scream for her to do whatever she pleases and she can hear every single one of them.

Her hands are just as curious as her mouth, exploring the same skin she’d spent years worshiping by now. The broken plead for more that leaves your throat and falls between the two of you does not go unnoticed.

You want this equally as bad as her. You want to feel her attach herself to you in the most intimate form of love making that she is physically capable of. But that isn’t going to stop her from enjoying you for as long as she can make it last.

It’s a slow practice of her parting from your mouth; retracting, coming back to give you gentle pecks, then retracting again. When she finally pulls away, she picks you up with the strength of a God and carries you in her hands, like a feather, to your thrones.

Your chest heaves as she sinks onto her knees in front of you and a moment of clarity breaks the arousal-induced enchantment that had fallen over you, “We can’t. Not here, Natasha. What if-”

She isn’t listening, her fingers are already digging under the fabric of your clothes to rip them away. “If what, petal? If someone catches us? If someone sees you all spread out for me and practically begging to be fucked until there’s nothing left in that pretty head of yours?”

You aren’t begging - you want to argue, but then she’d only make you beg to prove a point. Her hand is stroking over the apple of your cheek in a way that makes you just want to melt into her. Maybe you could find it in yourself to save the bratty act for later.

“A slutty little thing like you wouldn’t really mind getting caught here, now would you?”

You expel the air from your lungs but no words follow, just a pathetic blubber of nonsense. She’s not letting you off as easy as you had hoped she would. Her signature smirk flashes across her face, “Say it.”

You know what she wants from you, just as you know she won’t give you what you want until she gets it. “I’ll be good.” You whine, the sound high in your throat and, in one desperate breath, you add, “I’ll be so good, please Natasha.”

“See? How hard was that, baby? Now, be still. I don’t want to hurt you.” Maybe a part of her did want to hurt you, if only to see the excitement flare in your irises. But there are too many ways this could go wrong once her fangs come into play and that scares her too much.

Her tongue presses against your pulse point, feeling it throb from under the skin, and fingers stroke teasingly over the soaked cotton of your underwear but only to distract you long enough to finally sink her fangs into the flesh of your throat.

A hiss escapes your mouth but the pain is long gone before you feel it. It never really hurt, not when Natasha is so gentle the way she always is; taking her time to soften the skin with her tongue.

She is ever so gentle, even as every instinct she has ever harbored is telling her to drink! drink! drink! until she can’t possibly drink any more. One hand cradles the back of your neck, keeping the skin exposed to her as she sucks the warm blood from your veins.

Sparks shoot down the length of your limbs, “Fuck, Nat.” The combination of excited flutter in your heart, whiny undertone of your moan, and the way your fingers curl into her biceps is enough to make her growl.

“Don’t.” You can feel the vibrations of her words as she pulls you closer to her, “I can’t stop myself when you do that.”

You shutter, a sick mixture of fear and excitement. It’s way too dangerous to test her, now, but fuck did you want to. Her hunger is dangerous, the type of dangerous that draws the line between your life and an untimely death but it would take a lot more than a death threat for you to care.

Your longing whisper of her name is relatively soothing to her but the rush of flesh blood that floods her mouth at the same time only makes it impossible to stifle the moan that rises in her throat.

Warmth spreads over you from the inside, creeping up your neck and down your shoulders simultaneously. Her two fingers begin to probe at the sloppy entrance of your cunt and you can only hold on tighter to keep yourself from collapsing. “Fucking slut, so fucking messy.”

Maybe it’s because of the two fingers that sink inside you or the electric feeling of her fangs hooked into your throat but a fog blankets your head as dizziness mingles with overwhelming pleasure.

It only becomes harder to keep track of her movements and time is an illusion when she retracts her fangs to separate from your neck in one swift motion.

You chase after her blindly, giving neither of you time to unwind. Your tongue swipes at the corners of her mouth, cleaning your own blood from where it drips down her chin. A deep, animalistic growl leaves her chest and she curls her fingers inside you to reward the filthy sentiment.

“Fuck, you did so good for me, petal.” She praises, her fangs fully retracted into her teeth but you can feel the ghost of them still lingering in you. She moves to pepper kisses along the unmarked skin at the other side of your neck, “I wanna feel you. Let me make you cum, baby.”

The gentleness has returned to her voice, a reflection of the long-awaited satisfaction she’d been seeking for the better part of the day. You only tighten around her expert fingers, watching a different kind of need flash through the green of her irises.

“Please.” You whine and it’s all the permission she needs before she begins her gentle rhythm; using her fingers to collect your arousal and spread it over your clit, before they disappear inside the twitching walls of your abused cunt - over and over again.

You lose the energy to hold yourself upright and you only hope that your wife gets the memo before your head falls against the back of her throne.

She knows what to do just like the first or millionth time that you’d slept together. She knows how to press at the sensitive skin of your breasts, how to curl and fight against your tightening walls to keep your hips craning in search of more.

Your mouth gargles with mindless pleadings - ‘please, Tasha, oh please make me cum, I want to cum for you so bad, please Nat’.

Who is she to deny herself the pleasure of watching you cum - neck stained with a mixture of her lipstick and your own blood, head thrown back against the maroon fabric of her throne, and muscles shaking with the force of the pleasure she’s giving you?

She knows how to get you there, she’s studied your body for so long that she’s sure she deserves some kind of diploma.

She pushes a third finger into you, “So messy, petal. All from letting me use you like the perfect little servant you are - exactly what you were made to do. You like when I take what I want from you, baby? You’re always just so eager and so fucking good at giving it to me.”

Even if you didn’t shout the desperate strong of ‘yes!’s into the air, the rush of arousal that drips down the palm of her hand gives you away all the same. Her free hand fondles with your hair, tugging and pulling just enough to keep you dizzy.

The sweet pain sends you over the edge.

The orgasm is explosive and sudden, like jumping out of a plane without a parachute and hoping she’ll be there to catch you. Your muscles throb, the puncture wounds left in your throat ache, you twitch and crane and chase after her fingers so recklessly that she has to use much of her strength to hold you still.

“Shh, it’s alright. Good girl. My good girl.” She talks you down gently, speaking into the dip in your chest as she sprays the skin with wet kisses. You heave in desperation and the release of it, body fighting to regain control and stabilize your nerves that buzz with excitement.

Through half-lidded eyes, you can see her looking up at you with pride glistening in her still-glowing eyes. The blood that rushes through your ears burns but you can still hear her whispering firm proclamations of her love for you.

“You and me, we’re gonna live forever, petal.”

[redvelvetnat]

room temperature peaches

drummer!kate bishop x wife!reader

summary : your wife accidentally leaked your sex tape to the world, but it’s hard to be mad at her for it when she’s so far away and you both look so damn good in it.

disclaimer : 18+, strong language, sex tape, smut, strap-on mention, phone sex, dirty talk (praise + degradation + pet names), masturbation

author’s note : not the longest but i miss kate so much, i need her on my screen. i didn’t proofread this but, then again, i never do. really just posting this so you all can see i’m still alive. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3

“You like it when I fuck you like this, baby?”

There wasn’t a word you could think of to describe how embarrassed you felt, watching the internet blown to smithereens over your sex tape. Somehow, between the crude sounds that leak from your speakers and Kate’s bated breath on the other end of the phone, you didn’t have anything to say.

“I was trying to send it to you.” She mumbles sheepishly and follows it up with a breathy, “Wrong button, I guess.” You can hear the hint of a chuckle buried in her tone and it only makes your eyebrows knit.

Your fingers probe frustratedly at your temples, “Kate, this is not fucking funny. The whole goddamn world has seen me naked, now.” You hiss, slumping into the satin sheets of your half-empty bed. The light of your phone is the only thing that illuminates the dark bedroom.

“Oh, please,” she can’t help but huff with a laugh, “there are magazine covers that did that long before this video got out.” You don’t bother to scold her, it’s hard to when she’s partially correct. “And, if it makes you feel better, I’m naked too.”

“It doesn’t.”

She laughs again, having fully prepared herself to take the blunt-end of your anger. “But you do look incredibly fucking sexy, babe.” Kate Bishop is nothing if not a sweet talker. The woman is a walking wet dream and she uses it to her own advantage, especially when it keeps her out of your wrath.

You remember the night she took the video, using some teenage-boy bullshit excuse about her ‘spank bank’ and those pleading brown eyes she always seemed to lure you in with. It was hard for you to say no to her, sitting stage-side and watching as she took apart her drum-set with the thick layer of sweat still coating her skin.

Both ends of the phone are silent for a moment, only the sound of the video continuing on remains and you can’t be bothered to stop it. “Kate?” You question exhaustedly without any of the anger-fueled energy you had before.

Besides the muffled video echoing from her own laptop, you can’t hear much from her end of the line. It’s only after a few beats that she speaks, “I miss your pussy.” It’s gentle, like an admission - too casual for something so filthy, you almost think you heard her wrong.

The rasp in her voice makes your stomach flutter, and if you weren’t so used to Kate being the way that she is, the admission might have caught you off guard. You almost forget to expel the breath trapped in your chest.

“Are you watching it?”

You want to be able to deny her the satisfaction of you enjoying the video after she’s leaked it to the world but you’d be lying to say your eyes hadn’t drifted to your phone screen.

You watch as she parts, reluctantly, from between your thighs and kisses a trail through the dip in your ribs until she can take a hardened nipple into her mouth. The makeshift pillow she’d created out of her jeans cradles your head as it lulls back in bliss.

“Kate,” You breathe, thighs tightening around nothing. “I need you so bad.”

“I know baby, I know.” She rasps, “Why don’t you touch yourself for me?”

You’re more than happy to oblige her. When you kick off the sheets, the thin cotton underwear goes with it. Your touch is light at first, teasing down your skin until your can delve two icy fingers between your soaked folds. You shudder, a soft sound underneath your breath.

“I bet that pretty pussy is so fucking wet for me. I can’t wait to make her purr when I get back.” You should know by now what it sounds like when she’s touching herself and she definitely is. “I’d love to just dip my fingers in that perfect fucking hole and hear you sing for it.”

Your fingers fail in comparison to Kate’s but, still, you hump them as if your life depends on it. The video still plays, you can hear the way she grunts and moans when she finally sinks the head of her strap into you. The harsh stage-lighting illuminates the sharp curve of her jaw as she dips it into the crook of your neck.

“You take me so fucking well, buttercup.” She repeats in time with her video self as if she knows it by heart - if you know anything about Kate’s sex drive, she probably has watched it enough to memorize. Her face screws up in pleasure, you watch, as the toy disappears inside you.

You can practically feel it now, every detail down to the thick veins that decorate its purple shaft. The moan that rips from your chest and out your open mouth is genuine, months of unattainable pleasure built up in your tensed muscles.

“Fuck.” She groans, rather loudly, “Do that again. Moan for me again, baby.” She sounds just as desperate as you must look.

You oblige her once more, a string of uncensored curses falling from your drying lips. You can hear her grunting, the sound of your wife pleasuring herself is nearly enough to send you over the edge on its own. The thumb against your clit helps, generous circles around the nerves that light your body on fire in the most delicious way.

“I just want to watch you cum.” She whines, spoiled as ever and entirely too desperate to care about how needy she might sound.

This was the side of Kate that you adored. Sure, it was fun to entertain the toughened-up rockstar projection of herself but you had fallen in love with the Kate that didn’t care what she looked like to other people or how strong her walls held up. It was sexy in a different way.

You manage a half-hearted laugh between moans, “So watch.” You quip, holding your eyes open enough to see the video that plays unending on your phone. “Watch how you make me cum, Katie.” You coo.

You know it’s the nickname that sends her over the edge and combining it in time with the visual of you falling apart underneath her had been your greatest play yet.

It’s not too different from your own experience. Seeing the way her hips sputter as she watches you cum warms the pit in your stomach. The sounds that bounce off the walls of the empty concert hall match the ones that echo from the other end of the phone and the whimpers that climb their way up your throat.

“Kate!” Her name unhitches from your throat and into the silent air. She listens, hearing the unabridged moans falling, one after the other, from your lips.

You don’t have to imagine kissing her then, you can see yourself spilling the sounds of your orgasm into her mouth as she tongues past your lips with her nails sunk into both sides of your sputtering hips. “That’s it, baby. So good for me, buttercup.” She eases you down slowly.

Kate pants on the other end of the phone, waiting with patience for your high to fade. “See what you do to me?” She questions, still out of breath.

You roll your eyes, “Get that video off the internet or I’m canceling my flight to come see you.” You warn, finally closing the tab and relishing in the blissful lack of noise.

“Oh, please, you’ll come - if only for the orgasms.”

[redvelvetnat]

little valentine

natasha romanoff x reader x wanda maximoff

summary ➞ the hottest and richest married couple in town have a dirty secret - the pretty little thing down the street that they like to indulge themselves in from time to time.

disclaimer ➞ strong language, legal age gap, threesome, smut, food play, dirty talk (praise + degradation + pet names), brief mention of sexual punishment

a/n ➞ this is late for no other reason than i am an idiot. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3

“Go on, peach, don’t be shy.”

Natasha’s encourages fall onto unattuned ears, too busy with the urgent sound of the heart beating in your chest and the guttural moans escaping from the other redhead in front of you. She watches you stutter in action and a breathy chuckle rumbles in her chest.

“Look at her, Wanda. That pretty head has already gone all stupid and she hasn’t even been touched yet.” Wanda fights between breathy moans to muster a laugh and the sound makes your eyes flicker, momentarily, onto the vibrator hard at work between her quivering thighs.

Natasha’s hand brushes adoringly against your blushed cheek, wraps around your jaw, and guides you towards her wife’s shoulder where a dollop of whipped cream decorates her ivory skin. “Don’t you want a taste, sweet girl?”

You don’t have to answer as Wanda takes it upon herself to bury her hand into the roots of your hair and pull you towards her neck, black nails scraping against your scalp. Your lips enclose around the sweet condiment and three satisfied hums ring out in unison.

Wanda doesn’t let go of you, reveling in the feeling of your tongue stroking against her shoulder and up her neck, and you don’t protest either. It would take much stronger hands to pull you from her as your teeth sink into her throbbing pulse point. “Oh.” She whimpers against your ear, tightening her hold on your hair.

You can hear the hissing of the canister once more and throw a glance over your shoulder but Wanda pulls you into a frenzy of hot kisses and you can’t be bothered to investigate the noise any further.

Tongues clash, fingernails sink into unmarked skin, and both of your lungs seem to be void of air. “You’re so filthy.” Natasha comments from somewhere behind you, hand sliding down between your legs to collect your arousal on her fingers and spread it over your clit. “And so perfect.”

Your head falls back into a moan and Wanda takes her chance to attach her lips to your throat. Her hands are hot and burning on your oversensitive nerves when she slides them down your back.

“Let me have a turn. We’re supposed to share around here.” Wanda parts reluctantly at the older woman’s huffing and, before you know it, you’re being bent over her knees.

You know a punishment will follow and you wonder what you’ve done to deserve it, though you don’t very much care as long as you’ll be rewarded afterwards.

But there are no heated slaps to your ass or harsh spew of degradation from either woman. Instead, a cold runs up your back like a snake slinking itself around your spine. The canister sputters as Natasha sets it down and you can smell the sugary cream wafting through the air.

“Open.” Wanda commands gently, turning your head to her. Your mouth falls open without question and she raises a single strawberry to you, wedging it between your teeth and collecting the juice that dribbles down your chin with the pad of her thumb.

“Good girl.” She sings, bringing the digit to her mouth to suck it clean. You almost feel bad, as you dwell on the taste of the fruit, that they’re wasting so many of their Valentines treats on you. But you’re sure if you dared to call it ‘wasting’ out loud, they would punish you then.

It’s Natasha’s tongue that you feel next, at the base of your spine where it warms the icy skin. You moan at the feeling but the strawberry between your teeth only plugs the sound. “Be still, dove.”

You whimper when she draws her tongue up the middle of your back, collecting the cream in her mouth without leaving a single drop on your dampened skin. When she reaches the sharp edge of your shoulder blade, you can feel her breath creep up your neck.

She comes around you and wraps her lips around the protruding end of the strawberry, biting off as much as she can and Wanda’s disembodied voice instructs you to eat what is left.

Natasha’s mouth is on yours a second later, tasting of nothing but strawberry and cream. She kisses you hungrily and her hands explore whatever of the naked skin she can reach.

“No wonder we keep you around.” She comments against your mouth, Wanda’s fingers delving inside your cunt without much warning. You squeak in surprise, hand flying to Wanda’s leg to hold yourself steady.

“You’re just so good. Our perfect little Valentine.”

[redvelvetnat]

Kate as a Service Top™️ makes my brain do cartwheels and I like….really really need some of that in my life.

cherry bliss

kate bishop x reader blurb

summary ➞ kate knew what would happen when she wore that black suit but that was her plan all along.

disclaimer ➞ 18+, strong language, smut, bathroom sex, oral sex, dirty talk (praise + pet names)

a/n ➞ i went with soft kate because i’m sick and needed it, bite me. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3 gif source

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Kate’s breath was soft on the inside of your ankle as you watched her kiss up the length of one calf before moving on to the other.

Your lips curled upwards in amusement as you glanced down on her. She was rather attractive; looking up at you through batting eyelashes from her place kneeled on the bathroom floor with your high-heeled feet flung loosely over her shoulders.

Her all-black suit hung like open curtains at either side of her torso. She had already loosened the matching tie, leaving it sloppy and dangling between the valley of her breasts. Eyes sparkling under the soft white light above your head, her pupils dilated when she met your gaze again and you offered a coy smile as she worked her lips up your thigh.

“You’ve been thinking about me?” You tried not to reveal the admiration in your voice. It was getting impossibly harder to not play into her game, even before her teeth had even sunk into the junction of your hip and she bathed in the content sigh that fell from your open mouth.

“Yep, been thinking about making you feel good.” She offered in return before she was pushing your skirt out of her way and finally doing you both the favor of pressing her face between your thighs. “Wanna spread you open and hear you sing for me, baby.”

Her mouth was hot when it met your trembling cunt, her tongue pushing past your soaked folds to probe around greedily. “Tastes so good.” It was muffled by a string of satisfactory moans from her chest. Her arms came up to circle your hips and pull your ass further off the counter. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“You - you flatter me, my love.” You managed between heaving breaths, hands flying into the jungle of loose curls at the back of her head. “But, god, do you make me feel so fucking good.”

You choked on a series of loud moans as your head fell back against the mirror, nearly missing the shiver that fell down her spine. “Kate, please.” You pleaded, fingers tightening their hold in her raven-colored locks.

“Louder, peachy, I can’t hear you.” She absolutely could hear you. Even over the white noise of the ongoing party outside the bathroom, she could hear every shuddering breath that left your lungs. “Come on, for me.”

You were useless to deny her when a needy little ‘please’ unhitched from her throat. A moan ripped through you and she lashed her tongue against your clit. “Yes!” It was kin to a yelp, tugging her desperately closer to you.

She wasted no time in rumbling with a malicious chuckle and another couple strokes of her tongue. “That’s it, tell me all about how good it feels.”

[redvelvetnat]

sweet peach of mine

dragon slayer!natasha x princess!reader x witch!wanda

summary ➞ balancing an upcoming arranged marriage, inheriting your mother’s throne, and two secret girlfriends is a full time job. word count: 1.5k

disclaimer ➞ strong language, smut, jealousy, threesome, a dash of bondage, dirty talk (degradation + praise + pet names), knife play (sword play??), use of magic during sex, mistress kink, crying kink

a/n ➞ this is too short to be a full fic but i haven’t written anything this long in a while. i do want to write something longer about this dynamic if you all like it but this is all my little rat brain can do for now. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3

Somewhere under all the chiseled muscle and thickened silver armor, Natasha Romanoff was an incredibly smart woman whose brawn had only ever been a bonus to her quick instincts and sharp tongue.

So, naturally, it failed to surprise her when town gossip informed her that the Queen’s only daughter had been arranged to marry a nearby prince; she knew it would have happened sooner or later. But she also knew better than to believe you’d ever let anyone, other than her and her witch of a girlfriend, between your legs - married or not.

As if she needed anymore convincing, her theory had only been confirmed when she had seen your so-called ‘suitor’ at The King’s Ball the following week. At best, he was a boyish mess of scrawny limbs and flashy clothing, stumbling haphazardly across the ballroom floor.

The longer she watched, the more she found that he was nothing like herself or Wanda. So, needless to say, there wasn’t much competition there in regards to sex appeal.

Her girlfriend, however, was not as easily convinced as the dragon slayer; jealousy had always coursed through her icy veins and this marriage arrangement had proven to be no exception.

Much to the older woman’s annoyance, Wanda spent most of the night muttering foreign curses under her breath and wailing about all the things she would do if she managed to get her hands on him - drain his body of blood, transform him into a street rat, you name it.

Eventually, she had gotten her fill of fussing and decided to let the feeling pass (“I’m going on a walk, don’t wait up!”). Natasha had only been relieved to finally find a bit of peace, freedom to unwind from the day and take off the opulent clothing she had purchased specifically for the ball.

By the time midnight swung around, seeing as Wanda had still been AWOL, Natasha figured it best to make a trip to the castle and warn you of the brewing hurricane that was your furiously jealous girlfriend.

As per usual, it didn’t take much for her to get inside the walls; a few quiet guard assassinations that she tidied with ease and an invisibility potion that Wanda had taught her how to make. She was lucky in being able to slip into the castle, unscathed and without much of a fight just as it began to wear off.

Which brought her here, bounding down the hall on heavy feet as the stone steps wound into the castle’s west wing. Her sword, still dirtied with a bit of blood from the guards she had taken out, made a sharp metal-on-metal hiss when she slid it into the holster at the side of her armor.

She reached your living quarters and pressed her ear to the large wooden door to listen for any sounds she could make out on the other side. She expected she might hear chatter from the servants - if they hadn’t already, they would be making their final rounds for the night.

She was met, instead, with the sound of muffled moans from somewhere within the bedroom. She didn’t make any effort to move, pressing her ear harder into the door and giving it a moment.

She wondered what she would find if she pushed open the door. Would you be splayed across the bed, your silk nightgown left open for the night air to caress your skin and one of your hands dipped between your legs as a fresh stream of frustration tears rolled down your face? It wouldn’t be the first time she had stumbled upon you like so.

Or maybe, she thought for a brief second, she would find your soon-to-be husband trying his hand at getting into your pants. But that thought didn’t last very long before she was pushing it away and muttering to herself ‘get a grip, you sound like Wanda.’

She took only one short moment to continue listening to your sounds of ecstasy before she swung the door open. The sight she was greeted with surprised her more than anything she could have conjured up in her head.

Wanda, whose ‘walk’ was very clearly a code Natasha hadn’t been privy to, had you pinned to the headboard of your bed. What she assumed to be a tight rope of red magic held your hands clasped behind your back. Your legs twitched and trembled as an invisible force held open your thighs.

Natasha could faintly hear the witch muttering spells under her breath which did not falter when her girlfriend entered the room - she figured the woman had either expected her arrival or sensed her coming.

Wanda drew your attention back to her with a soft whisper against your dampened temple, “That’s three.” The comment was an obvious narration on the growing number of orgasms the young witch had racked through your body and Natasha almost felt bad at the drive Wanda could muster up when she was angry.

“Let’s try for four, shall we?” Your body jolted at the ooze of confidence in her tone and desperate whimpers shattered through your chest. She was about as upset as Natasha figured she would be; eyes darkened and throat empty of the praises and reassurances that usually fell from them.

You looked to the armored woman for aid as Wanda’s fingers probed at your entrance yet again. “Please, I’ll be good. I’ll be so good.” The words fell from your lips in a whine, wrists twisting and turning against their magical binds.

“I have to say, peach,” Natasha’s lips curled into a sort of smirk, “I was coming to warn you. But, seeing as I’m too late and witchy, here, has been dying to get her hands on you for a number of hours; I doubt your melodic little whines will be enough to deter her greedy hands.”

She accentuated her statement by extracting her sword from its holster and caressing the blade carefully between the naked valley of your breasts. You gasped at its coolness against your warm skin and the muscles in your thighs clenched as they desperately tried to close.

“Mistress.” You gasped loudly and with great surprise as Wanda finally sunk her fingers into you, her breath hit your face in a short burst as she exhaled and reveled in the feeling of being inside you. “So perfect, sweet dove.” She whispered against your cheek before her head fell to your throat to leave a litany of love bites along the skin.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest?” Natasha cooed, kneeling onto the bed, the action followed by a soft clank of her armor. Her fingers found your cheek, brushing away the tear that cascaded down the skin. “So pretty when you cry, lovey.”

Wanda’s fingers pushed farther inside you, forcing a series of broken howls from your aching throat but that only seemed to spur her on and her thumb found its place against your swollen clit. “That’s it, let it all out.” The brunette encouraged, teeth sinking into your collarbone.

“Such a pretty pussy that I get to play with.” She purred, lips wet and tongue hot against your skin, “All mine.”

“Ours.”

She didn’t seem much interested in Natasha’s correction, waving the burly woman off with a huff of breath. “Our pussy to play with. Isn’t that right, your majesty?” Her voice dripped with malice.

You choked over a few bouts of nonsense, lips falling open in hopes that the words would find their own way out of your throat. Nothing escaped but moans and whimpers, your walls clenching desperately around Wanda’s nimble fingers as she curled them in quick motions.

“I believe Wanda asked you a question, peach.” Natasha hissed, trailing her blade down the sweating path of your abdomen. You yelped at the traveling sting, throwing your head against the headboard in frustration over the loss of coherence.

The tips of Wanda’s fingers grazed at that spongey spot inside of you, “You can do it, my queen, just tell me who this beautiful pussy belongs to and I’ll end all this painful torture.” She was hissing now, like a snake with a vengeance.

“Yours! Yours!” You squeaked, tears welling in your eyes and falling down your cheeks. “Yours! And Natasha’s! Only for you!” The words were slurred, full of hope that they’d be enough to end the suffering that bubbled in the pit of your stomach.

Wanda let out a pleased giggle, free hand stroking calculated circles around your clit. “Why don’t you come for her, baby? Don’t you see how bad she wants it?” Nearly forgetting the older woman had been there, her voice ripped your eyes open as they shot to meet hers.

“Going to… I’m - oh.” The orgasm ripped through you before you had a chance to say much else. Every muscle in your body seemed to tighten and release at once as you fought for breath. Wanda, laughing maliciously, was pleased with your obedience and gently stroked at your walls until you melted into nothing more than a lump of shuddering bones.

“Sweet, sweet peach.” She mused, soothing over your skin with gentle lips as Natasha retracted her blade and watched your ribs shake with each bid to gain your breath back. “So perfect.”

[redvelvetnat]

Blurbs huh? Okay. I gotchu

Okay! Can we have mommy!wanda x daddy!nat x reader? Throw some breeding in there? Choking, spittin, and some good dirty talk?

you’d be like heaven to touch

natasha x reader x wanda blurb

summary ➞ it’s just sex babes, a nice present for you <3

disclaimer ➞ 18+, strong language, smut, strap-on use, oral sex on a strap on, choking, spitting, gagging, dirty talk (praise + degradation + pet names)

a/n ➞ this one is short and i kinda forgot the breeding kink stuff but soft!nat + mean!wanda is the only language i understand atm. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3

You’ve already melted into a tangled mess of attraction and embarrassment when your back hits the cold glass of the window. The snow falling on the other side of it reflects in both your girlfriends’ eyes as they watch you with dilated pupils.

You want to yelp about how icy the window is against the sweating skin of your back but Wanda’s hand moves to enclose around your throat and the words get lost in your chest.

“You’re so pretty, angel.” Natasha manages to slip out in between Wanda’s harsh tirade of ‘fucking slut’ and ‘dirty whore’ - all of which you soak in eagerly as the brunette above you is forcing you onto your knees.

There’s a number of things that could have upset your girlfriend - a mission gone bad, some snide remark about you from one of their particularly perverted coworkers, or just the general build up of stress - but, whatever it is, you’re thanking the gods that it’s running so wildly through her veins.

You’re still lost in the blissed-out state of euphoria from your first two orgasms when your knees hit the ground and it’s only the soft caress of Natasha’s hand against your reddened cheek that brings you back, “Open up, peach, show me that talented tongue of yours.”

You oblige quickly, tongue lulling out of your mouth and head falling back against the window as you welcome the string of saliva that Natasha spits into your direction. You know better than to close your lips, not until Wanda has had her fix of watching it pool onto your tongue and her fingers come down to force it all into the back of your throat.

“You’d do anything we ask, wouldn’t you?” She doesn’t need or want you to answer as she listens to the sweet gagging sounds you start to make around her ringed fingers and a smile spreads across her lips, “You’d open your legs for any motherfucker in this city if your daddy or I just said ‘please’, huh?”

Part of you wishes you had the will to deny it but she’s already watched you spread yourself open for a variety of her female coworkers all because she had gotten too cocky and lost a bet. Even now, your pussy clenches around nothing as the images of Carol, Maria, Sharon, and your girlfriends all standing over you crosses your mind.

Wanda must have noticed the glaze that overtakes your face because her hand comes to clasp around your chin and force you to look into her eyes, “You don’t care who takes this slutty pussy as long as it gets filled, huh?” It’s not entirely true; the three of you knew very well that at the end of the day you were theirs and theirs alone but Wanda had always been fueled by her fantasies of being the one to tame the wild beast inside you.

“Mommy, please.” Your softened doe eyes alone would have been enough to convince her to give you what you wanted, she didn’t need the addition of her fingers glistening with a mixture of your and Natasha’s combined saliva and Natasha’s face eagerly dug into your shoulder to leave a path of darkened bruises.

“Daddy.” You press, eyes flickering over to Natasha and then back again. The submission is clearly written across your face and it makes the aching between Wanda’s legs grow almost unbearable.

“Alright, baby, alright.” The brunette above you hums in a much softer voice than she’s used all night. Her fist encloses around the base of the plastic cock between her legs, “Open wide for mommy.”

[redvelvetnat]

the adults are talking

ex wife!natasha x reader

summary ➞ when your ex wife shows up to apologize for missing your daughter’s dance performance, it unleashes a myriad of emotions you thought you had swallowed a long time ago. word count : 4.5k

disclaimer ➞ 18+, strong language, arguing + talk of divorce, mentions of civilian!carol danvers x reader, jealous behavior, smut, very brief oral, fingering, dirty talk (degradation + praise + pet names), mommy kink

a/n ➞ i’ve been working on this fucking fic for months and the ending is still rushed oops. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3 gif source

When a knock rang out against the front door, it didn’t take a genius to guess which sorry sap had gathered the nerve to show up outside your house at half-past one on a Friday night. You knew, before you even opened the door, that it would be Natasha standing there; her lungs already full with half-ass excuses as to why she had let your daughter down - again.

You were more than confident in this, given that in the past year and a half that she seven-year-old had been studying ballet, your ex had somehow managed to miss three-out-of-five recitals. And god forbid she was on time for the two that she even bothered attending.

Tonight had been no different. She had failed to show up - or call. The seat next to you had been left cold and, after the show had finished, your daughter walked out of the auditorium with teary-eyes and reddened cheeks.

Usually, Natasha could plead and plead and flash those alluring green eyes at you until you were useless against doing anything but forgiving her and drinking up whatever bullshit fell from her mouth.

Usually.

But missing this final recital had proved to be the icing on the cake for you - the nudge that only solidified the disdain you had started to grow for the red-head.

Which is exactly why you had forced yourself to stop and take a deep breath as your hand wrapped around the knob, trying your best to swallow the insults and digs that were already burning at your tongue. You turned the knob and pulled the door to, hand gripping tightly at the brass piece as your ex wife flashed you a regretful frown.

“Hey, I got caught up a-”

“She’s not here.” You cut her off quickly, monotoned as you irritatedly twisted the knob back and forth in your hand. Natasha’s face fell, “Where is she?”

You fought the urge to spit a resentful ‘why do you care’ because you knew civility was always the best route with Natasha, so you settled for the simple truth, “She went to spend the night at Clint and Laura’s, to hang out with the kids.”

She stared at you for a moment before a disappointed “Oh.” fell from her parted lips. You wanted to comment on it, how she was in no position to be disappointed when all she seemed to do was disappoint. Her eyes flickered around; towards you, then the ground, and back to you again.

“So, if that’s all, then I’ll just…” You stepped back and your hand moved to push the door closed but it proved to be a difficult task when Natasha quickly slotted her slender foot between the door and the frame.

“What, Natasha?” It was a far harsher growl than you had intended it to be but you were growing impatient with her and her constant antics.

The older woman’s lips fell into something akin to a pout, “Can I come in?” You knew that any other day ‘come in’ was probably code for something much more provocative like ‘let me fuck you until i have your forgiveness’ and you were far too annoyed to want to have sex with her. But her eyelashes fluttered innocently under your hardened stare.

As your lips began to wrap around a soft ‘not tonight’, her eyes flashed something vaguely apologetic and, against your better judgment, you let out a sigh and said, “Get in here before I change my mind.”

She pushed forward on her heels, moving past you and into the house where she came to a stop in the middle of the living-room. “You’ve changed the place.” Her eyes darted over the walls, painted grey rather then their usual white, and the new furniture that had been strategically positioned around the room to make it look nothing like it had months prior.

You had changed a lot about the house in a feeble attempt at scrubbing the last of her from the space. You figured that, if you changed enough, maybe you wouldn’t have to wake up every morning and deal with the constant, dull ache that came with the territory of still being in love with her. She was entirely too full of herself to admit that it was her pride that had dug a wedge between the two of you - so far that there was nothing left but hopes and dreams to cling onto.

Even the sex had begun to seem more habitual than driven by connection or want.

You hummed dismissively at her assessment of the living-room and proceeded towards the kitchen where you had been sitting, before she so rudely interrupted your ongoing expedition into a bottle of red wine.

She followed you aimlessly, kicking off her shoes somewhere near the front door, and came to a stop in the entryway of the kitchen. “You always did like that brand.” She examined, fingers loosely motioning towards the bottle as you poured another glass and she shuffled to sit at one of the bar stools across the island.

“I do.” You offered in a disinterested tone as you glanced at her, “Would you like a glass?” She pondered for a moment but ultimately shook her head. “No, thank you.”

An awkward silence fell between the two of you, the clinking of your glass against the marble countertops stood as the only sound to fill the emptiness. The tension was thick and you started to wonder if she was going to try to pull her typical ruse on you; make up a million sad excuses if you bothered to ask her where she had been all night.

You were completely content, though, with the current silence - awkward or not - because at the very least it wasn’t arguing or crying or anything of the sort. But she interrupted your peace with the words that fell from her mouth next. “I heard you’ve gotten yourself a girlfriend, huh?”

You couldn’t say you were surprised by the question, fingers curling around the glass in your hand as you fought the urge to scowl at her. “So that’s why you’re really here.” It did make sense now; her sniffing out the house and filling the air with meaningless small talk.

But the red-head had always been persistent, “I’m just making conversation.” She wasn’t - she was absolutely just trying to get under your skin. Or maybe she was looking for you to admit that you had moved on from her; spoiler alert, you hadn’t.

“Not that it’s any of your business, Natasha, but Carol is not my girlfriend.”

You weren’t lying. Carol had been coming over but it was only meaningless sex and a few shallow heart-to-hearts when neither of you wanted to return to empty houses. You didn’t have it in you to fall in love. Not with Carol, not with anyone. Definitely not when you spent so much time thinking about your, frustratingly addictive, ex wife.

Her face lit up with something sinister as your eyes flashed to her and she leaned on her elbows against the island between you. “Carol?” It was an empty question, one you knew was bound to be followed by some sort of snarky remark. Your suspicion was immediately confirmed, “That stuck-up blonde from next door? Talk about a downgrade, sweetheart.” Her tone was eerily soft despite the taunt embedded in her words.

Natasha took your lack of response as her chance to laugh at the irritation in your demeanor. “What did it for you, huh? Was it the way she used to eye-fuck you during those neighborhood barbecues? Peeking at you from behind the grill as if no one could see the way her eyes were always centered right around your chest.”

“Careful, Natasha, your insecurity is showing.”

“Or maybe the way she used to ignore me whenever we were there together because all she has ever really been good for is looking at you with that stupid fucking doe-eyed look on her face?”

“Atleast someone was looking at me as if they wanted me.” Her eyes narrowed, then, and her mouth snapped shut. The gaze she held was intimidating when you met it again and another bout of silence thickened in the air. The anger and annoyance was clear from both of you.

“She cried, you know?” You figured if you were going to throw everything out on the table that you might as well let her know exactly what she had been doing to the members of this family; whether she was around to see it happen or not.

“She usually doesn’t cry. Just says things like ‘maybe next time’ or ‘she’s probably out saving the word, right?’. She gets that from you, that hopefulness.” Her eyes shifted uncomfortably around the room, looking anywhere - everywhere - but you.

“But it was her Halloween recital and they got to dress up as anything they wanted. She had been so fucking excited to dress up as her mama, the Black Widow. She told everyone who would listen that you were going to be so proud of her. That, some day, she’d be an Avenger just like you.”

You took a shaky breath as your eyes pooled with tears, watching the sadness that began to blanket Natasha’s features. “And then the look on her face when those lights came on at the end and there was still an empty seat next to me…” You fought harder against the tears that threatened to spill, swallowing them back with another large gulp of wine.

“I wanted to come, of course I wanted to come. But I had work.”

You scoffed, passing a frustrated hand over the tangled locks of your hair. “Work. It’s always work, isn’t it? It was work when we had to cancel the wedding because Tony got himself into another stupid robot war. It was work on our anniversary when I sat in the restaurant alone like an idiot because you were off saving Bucky Barnes from…well, himself. Hell, it was even work when your daughter was born because Dr. Banner ‘needed your help on an experiment’; I think that’s the bullshit excuse you used.”

Her head ducked down, hanging like a guilty puppy. She didn’t dare meet your eyes. Instead, she moved around the kitchen to retrieve a small glass and the bottle of her favorite scotch that you never had the heart to get rid of.

You swirled the wine around your glass as she turned to look at you, “I made a mistake, okay?”

A bitter laugh forced its way up your throat before you had the chance to stop it, “A mistake? No, Natalia, one time is a mistake.” The name rung sharply in her ears. “Two is a coincidence at best. Anything more than that is just you thinking you can fuck everyone over without any consequences.” She was quick with wiping away the tear that streaked down her face.

She cleared her throat, taking a shot from the glass before setting it back onto the counter. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes were convincingly pleading but you opted to turn away from her and place your glass into the sink.

“I’m sorry for not being the wife that you deserved. All those times I ran instead of just sitting down and having a conversation with you. I’m sorry for not being the mother that Yelena needs. I should have been - should be showing up for her, taking initiative and being a real mother. And I haven’t. I’ve never tried and I don’t have an excuse for it. But I want you to know that I am sorry. I should have gotten my shit together a long time ago. When you needed me, when my daughter needed me. I should have fought harder for you - for us. I shouldn’t have given you up without a fight. God, I’m just sorry.”

Your hands tightened around the edge of the sink, trying desperately to keep yourself from breaking down in the middle of the kitchen. You could feel Natasha’s eyes burning holes in the back of your head, hear her sniffling in the silence of the kitchen even as she tried to hide the fact that she was crying.

You don’t remember the last time you had seen her cry, or shown any emotion really. And you certainly don’t remember the words ‘I’m sorry’ ever coming from her lips

When you finally found it in yourself to turn around, Natasha was much closer than you had anticipated. Her distance made you stumble back a bit but you didn’t dare break the eye contact she was offering.

“I’m sorry.” She repeated in a desperate sigh, her hand coming up to cup the side of your cheek. Your eyes fell closed in fear that your voice would betray you as her thumb brushed against the skin of your cheek. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice was nothing but a broken whimper now.

You weighed all the options of what to do next. A simple ‘i accept your apology’ would have done fine. Or even a nod and a brush of your hand against her shoulder to show her that she didn’t have to apologize anymore.

When your eyes fell open you could see a sincerity in hers, the same one that used to sparkle as you walked down by the pier with your fingers interlocked and smiles on both of your faces. And you wanted to kiss her for it.

But you didn’t. You shuffled away from her and sniffled a little before whipping your face with the sleeve of your sweatshirt - Natasha’s sweatshirt, now that you thought about it.

“I should - uh, probably get to bed, now. Sleep off the wine.” You offered with a half-hearted, breathy chuckle. Natasha cleared her throat and took a step back, “Of course, yeah.”

You pushed the hair from your face and led her towards the front door. “I can…you can come see her tomorrow if you’d like. Hang out here or take her out or…or just wait until a day that you’re off.” When you reached the door you swiveled on your heel to face her.

“I think…” She started, chewing at the skin of her bottom lip, “I think I’m gonna take some time off of work. I deserve a break.” She began to rock gently on her feet, “And the Avengers can do fine without me for a while.”

You let a soft silence fall between you as you searched for what to say next, “You do deserve a break.” It was what you had been telling her all along - before the engagement, and the wedding, and certainly before you had your child.

She nodded in agreement as you reached out for the door handle. Before you could turn the knob, your name tumbled from her mouth like a soft call. You turned, with the intent of answering whatever she was about to say next, only to be pressed against the back of the door as she connected her lips to yours.

You grabbed her by the hair at the back of her neck, the way you had been itching to do for a number of minutes now, and pulled her closer to you. One of her hands came to wrap around the small of your back and the other braced the two of you against the door.

You could feel her arm flexing next to your head, the muscle hardening under the strain, and you let one of your hands trail over her shoulder and across her bicep to feel it twitch under your touch. She sighed against your lips, feeling your hands run over her skin had been something she had longed for much longer than she’d like to admit. And it was a welcomed comfort to her.

It wasn’t like a movie kiss; it was sloppy and uncoordinated, more focused on getting reacquainted with each other’s mouths than actually kissing. You could taste the tears that had fallen as you were arguing and you were absolutely sure that she could taste yours but neither of you cared all that much when there were undertones of each other behind the salty bitterness.

Just as she was prepared to let her lips trail down your neck, a knock against the door behind you made the both of you surge forward with surprised squeaks. “Jesus Christ.” Natasha hissed, half annoyed, detaching her lips from your skin to pull you away from the door.

You adjusted your disheveled appearance, pushed the loose strands of hair from your face, and moved to open the door. Carol presented herself on the other side, holding a bottle of white wine in one hand and a bundle of flowers in the other. “Carol, do you know what time it is?” You sighed, your eyes twitched towards the clock on the wall.

Carol shrugged, “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see you and I saw your kitchen light on so…” she trailed off. The smile she flashed was genuine, pearly and soft in a way that only she could offer so late at night.

Natasha stepped out from behind you, her muscled arm circling sternly around your waist to pull you into her front as her lips fell to your jawline. “Kinda in the middle of something, here, Danvers.”

“Natasha, I-uh.” Carol’s smile fell just ask quickly as it had risen as her eyes darted warily between the two of you. Natasha rose her attention to meet Carol’s, without detaching much from your jaw and you could feel the smirk on her lips.

When Carol failed to speak, Natasha’s eyebrows shot up expectantly and her lips curled around a, very sarcastic, “Wonderful conversation we’re having here.” Your elbow nudged at the hardened abs behind you and Natasha only chuckled airily against the shell of your ear.

“I’m gonna…I’m gonna go.” Carol finally announced, passing off the contents of her hands into yours and shuffling awkwardly on heavy feet.

“Nice seeing you.” Natasha quipped, giving the blonde no time to reciprocate the compliment before she was pulling you back inside and kicking the door shut behind her.

She thought for a few short moments, her hands tightening around your hips before she was lifting you off the ground unexpectedly.

The flowers tumbled first, petals breaking away from the stem and littering the hard-wood floor. The wine glass was quick to follow, shattering loudly but it was hard to hear over the joyous laughs from both you and your ex wife.

“Natalia!” The red-head smiled this time, enjoying this version of her government name falling from your lips over the hardened and aggressive version you had offered earlier.

She didn’t bother to answer your scold, instead letting her laughs speak for the lack of remorse she felt as she carried you back into the kitchen. The island seemed to serve her well when she settled you onto the cold marble and attached her lips back to yours.

The kiss she gave you then was much more calculated than before, her hands traveling underneath the fabric of your sweatshirt and roaming across the shuttering skin. “So perfect.” She managed to say between hot-breathed pants. “So pretty.” The praises were mindless, driven more by the need to please you than actually caring what was coming out of her mouth.

It had been quite a while since she had kissed you this way and you let yourself fall into the softness of her lips and whimper at the words she had chosen to praise you with.

Sweat already pricked the skin of your stomach and you’re sure, if she had needed one, Natasha would have used that as her excuse for peeling the article up and over your head. But, of course, you would have known better with the way her eyes landed on your exposed skin, darkening even under the soft-white kitchen lighting.

Just when you were starting to think she had made the decision to take her time on you, she proved to still be your Natasha somewhere under all the change she was displaying as her fingers curled into the crotch of your shorts and ripped them straight open.

She bathed in the glory of the surprised gasp that fell from your lips, “Don’t want to wait any longer. Wanna make you feel so good.” She explained with the usual mischievous smile playing across her lips.

You were quick to take her jaw into your hands and squeeze enough to catch her attention from the intense staring she was doing as her fingers tweaked at your hardened nipples, “Now, that’s not the way you apologize, mommy.” Her eyes were quick to dilate, getting impossibly darker at your teasing as her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

“Of course not.” She agreed, taking the band of your shorts into her nimble fingers and pulling them down your legs along with the underwear from underneath them. “Let me make it up to you, dove.”

You were in no place to argue, eyes soft and seductive as you looked down at her and tangled your hands into her hair to guide her head between your legs. She moaned loudly at your sudden overthrow of her power; a sound that surprised one of you just as much as the other.

“Come on baby, don’t keep me waiting.” You whined as her lips explored the supple flesh of your thighs. You could see her eyes flicker up to meet yours before her tongue was extending forward and lashing against your clit in one quick and greedy motion. You would have been all for the eye contact if you had been physically capable of stopping your head from falling back with the force of the guttural moan that jumped from your chest.

She was pleased by the sound of approval, proving to you that she was, in fact, still in the process of apologizing by attaching her mouth to your clit and suckling with a hunger you hadn’t seen from her since your wedding night.

“Fuck.” It was futile for you to try and fight the way your body shuttered and twitched under her ministrations, reacting to every smooth caress of her tongue as she explored at the walls of your cunt. There was no denying the heaven you were living through, dripping down your thighs and making a mess of your ex lover’s face in some twisted love story turning point.

It was hot, filthy; it was everything you had ever wanted Natasha to step up and display - to show you she cared and that she wanted you, that sex with you didn’t feel like a chore for her.

She was drinking you like wine, humming at the taste you left on her swollen lips and watching closely at every twist of your, very reactive, body. You finally felt like she wanted you - because she actually did.

You hardly had the chance to breathe before one of her fingers were sinking into the wet depths of you and curling like she knew exactly how to make you sing. You choked on nothing but your own desperate moans and a shaking encouragement of ‘so good mommy, please don’t stop’.

“Look at you, my love,” Even as you knew that it would be followed with a series of filthy comments, the nickname alone made your racing heart take a moment to skip in your chest, “so needy all for me. Like a pretty little whore who only wants to get her greedy pussy filled by her mommy. Isn’t that what you are, dove?”

The answer was caught in your throat, a million variations of the word ‘yes’ swimming around in your head and none of them finding the escape hatch to scream their way out as you tightened around her fingers. “Come on, baby, I know that pretty little head isn’t too stupid to answer when your mommy asks you something.”

She was playing a game here, and she was playing it to win. And you were prepared to let her win when her thumb circled at your clit which only made your legs jolt from the countertop.

“Yes! I’m…I’m - oh god - I’m a whore.”

The laugh that left her mouth was damn-near demonic, “Yeah? Who’s whore?” Your stomach, already twisting and turning from the pure pleasure her fingers were inflicting on you, fluttered with a moment of softness. “Yours! All yours! No one else’s!”

Through the tears that begun to prick your eyes and blurr your vision, you could vaguely see her smiling back at you before her lips attached to your neck and worked on sucking purple-colored marks into the skin.

“You gonna be my whore forever, peach? A perfect little fucktoy just for me?” You hoped that you were nodding, although you doubted you had that much control of your body’s desperate movements as moans poured from your throat and your lungs screamed for air. “Well, you gotta cum for me then, can you do that?”

The rapid fire of her mouth became lost on you in the following moments, no longer were they questions that needed answers but vague mumbling, swimming somewhere within the sound of the blood rushing through your ears. By then, it was taking all you had not to explode right there on the kitchen counter; combust into a heaping pile of melted bones and softened flesh. If she would have asked you to die for her in that moment, you would have asked her ‘knife or gun?’.

Your cunt clamped down around the stroking of her fingers and her mouth found it’s rightful place on yours. A clash of teeth and tongue, the both of you feeding off of one another like you never had before and would never get to again.

When you finally did cum, the coil in your stomach seemed to spring open and release all of the tension you had been holding at Natasha’s throat for years. ‘I love you’s and ‘so good’s began to fall from either of your lips like a fountain and neither of you wanted the momentary ecstasy to end as her fingers worked you through the pleasure that racked down your spine.

“So good for me. Just like that, baby.” She cooed softly against your lips, the remnants of your own arousal on her mouth made you shutter and open your eyes to watch her. She was already watching you, how your chest rose and fell in time with your pulsing lungs.

When the desperate organs finally caught up to themselves and your breaths were soft in the space between the two of you, she planted a chaste kiss against yours lips.

“I don’t deserve to forget the things that I did to you. But I would like a chance to fix them because I love you and I don’t want to lose you again.”

[redvelvetnat]

hear me out bestie : mob bosses wandanat and their bratty girlfriend who just wants to be spoiled and fucked and punished and ahhhhhhhh

the appeal of aphrodite

mob bosses!wandanat x reader blurb

summary ➞ everyone knows wanda and natasha run the city, but that doesn’t stop you from always getting what you want.

disclaimer ➞ 18+, strong language, slight sugar baby vibes, smut, threesome, oral sex, mirror sex, fingering, dirty talk (degradation + praise + pet names), mommy + daddy kink

a/n ➞ i took absolutely zero time to edit this or read over it more than once :) but women in power make me feral this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3

“You seem to be incredibly set on being a brat today, dove.” Natasha’s question is mostly rhetorical as she pulls you closer to her body. Your spine molds easily to the curve of her hips as the thin layer of sweat between your back and her stomach forms a sticky adhesive between the two of you.

From this position, you’re sure she can feel the way your heart beats so excitedly against your ribcage and how your lungs shake with each breathy and uneven whine that leaves your lips.

Wanda, on the other hand, has found her place further down the bed; stomach flush against the mattress and lips exploring your naked thighs. Her hands, though far more delicate than Natasha’s had ever been, work to relieve any tension in the muscles of your calves.

“It’s fine if you can’t handle a brat, but I’m sure someone around here can.” You huff frustratedly at their combined teasing as Wanda’s breath brushes over the crotch of your dampened underwear and Natasha’s nimble fingers toy with your hardened nipples.

You know you’re playing a dangerous game. But there’s a surge of excitement watching Wanda’s eyes darken under the challenge - no doubt matching whatever devilish gaze is bouncing around in Natasha’s features.

“What? We’re not treating you right, love?” Wanda takes a second to detach her lips from your leg, eyebrow pushing up in expectancy.

“Didn’t your mommy just get you such a pretty necklace today, baby? Don’t you think you can manage to shut that talented mouth for five minutes?” Natasha questions as her hand slides down the expense of your stomach and dips under the band of your underwear.

Her touch is uncharacteristically gentle when she caresses the lips of your cunt with feather-like strokes. Your voice is only bound to fail you so, instead, you opt to nod softly as your eyes fall appreciatively to the diamonds shimmering from your chest.

That hand that had been teasing you disappears from between your legs and travels to your chin, directing your attention to meet her eyes in the mirror above the bed. “It’s almost as beautiful as you.”

Your chest rushes with warmth - something that also might have had to do with the feeling of Wanda’s hands peeling your underwear down your legs and leaving gentle bites in her wake.

Your body shudders under the sudden intrusion of cold air, Natasha’s fingers leave the valley of your chest to spread your folds for the eager brunette.

“Please.” It’s a broken plead when you finally cave and push your hips towards her hand. “‘Please’ what?” Natasha grunts with a teasing dissatisfaction, teeth barring down onto your shoulder. You hiss at the burn, relaxing back into her as she soothes it over with her tongue.

“Please, daddy.” You finally gasp as her mouth finds another place to sink into. Wanda hums excitedly, tongue falling out of her mouth as she looks up at the redhead for permission.

Natasha’s cooed ‘well, who are we to deny you when you ask so nicely?’ is all Wanda needs to lunge forward and close her lips around your clit. A gasp is forced up your throat, accompanied by the sound of Wanda’s tongue lashing through your folds.

“Oh, sweetheart, what are we going to do with you if you keep being so messy?” Natasha’s question goes unanswered when Wanda’s plunges two of her fingers into the greedy depths of your cunt, her stomach fills with a sense of pride when she feels your walls contract around the digits.

“You like it when I’m messy.” You manage to breathe, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure pulses through your body with every calculated pump of her fingers.

Natasha takes your chin into her hand again, gripping tightly as she presses her mouth against the side of your face, “Open your fucking eyes.” She hisses against your temple, Wanda’s fingers curling maliciously inside of you to accentuate the command.

Your eyes shoot open without question, spine shuttering at the darkness in her tone, “I - fuck, fuck, fuck - I’m sorry daddy!” You squeak through a whine.

Natasha’s face curls into a sweet smile then, and her eyes darken as you stare into her reflection. “There’s the obedient little whore I love so much.”

[redvelvetnat]

Smut with Kate as a daddy??

brain rot

drummer!kate bishop x reader

summary ➞ she’d been looking for you since the first night of her tour, three months is a long time to think about someone.

disclaimer ➞ strong language, alcohol, smut, fingering, public sex, dirty talk (praise + degradation + pet names), daddy kink

a/n ➞ honestly, the fact that she’s specifically a drummer has little to do with the actual story. i’m just a whore. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3 gif source

Kate wondered if you could feel her watching you as she twirled her drumsticks between her fingers. She couldn’t help the staring, watching her bandmate chat you up with that stupid cocky smirk plastered across her face.

She had thought a lot about you since the last time she had seen you. For three months, the flashes of your sweaty escapades was all she had to tie herself over until she could find another pretty thing like you.

That was the problem, she figured. She’d turned down too many of those tight skirt, high-heel, doe-eyed opportunities to convince herself that she’d find anyone that resembled you enough to satisfy her.

She must have looked pathetic; all those nights, raking through the deepest part of her brain for memories of that night with her fingers sunk between her trembling thighs. But what else was she supposed to do with all that built up frustration?

At first, she thought she would only be disappointed by her expectation to see you tonight. Just because she was back in your city didn’t mean you’d care enough to come see her, right?

But here you were; six feet away from her and looking like the angel on Earth that she remembered you to be.

The red solo cup she finally found the courage to offer you was a distraction at best, an ‘I missed you and I want your attention on me’ disguised as the ‘I thought I recognized that pretty face of yours’ that actually came out of her mouth.

And, just like that, everything else melted away until it was only the two of you staring into each other’s eyes.

Most of what came after that was a blur, right up until she found herself with you in an empty hallway; giggling like school children, one of her hands against the wall beside your head and the other wrapped around your waist like she was scared you would disappear out from under her.

She only really snapped back into reality when she could feel your breath against her lips.

It was risky, she knew that, anyone could have stumbled upon the two of you here. But all she could bring herself to care about was keeping you close as she dipped her head down and connected your lips. The taste of you might as well have been the gates of heaven the way she’d been waiting so long for it to greet her.

Her knee slotted between your legs and she found it hard to ignore the whimper that fell into her mouth. The alcohol was strong enough to give her the confidence to slide her hand to the small of your back and guide you to grind against her thigh.

She lifted your chin, your pupils already blown and your irises glinting with the submission she had missed so much. “You want it, peachy?” She teased, teeth sinking into the edge of your jaw as your head fell back against the wall behind you.

The empty nod that followed wasn’t enough for her. She wanted you to beg until your throat burned and your voice went hoarse but this wasn’t really the time or place for that, if she was going to have you now it’d have to be quick.

But she still couldn’t resist from teasing, “You gotta ask for it, baby.” She whispered into your skin and squeezed you between her palms. “Come on, you can do it.”

“Please.” The pout alone could have done her in, the way your thighs tightened around her leg as you looked up at her through your long eyelashes and awaited her next command - she loved that you were so willing.

“Please…?” Honestly she would have settled for anything you wanted to call her, as long as whatever you called her said ‘i’m yours for the night’.

“Please, daddy.”

She might have stopped breathing as the words left your swollen lips, or maybe it just felt that way with the alcohol that burned in her chest. “Who am I to deny such a pretty girl, hmm?”

Her thigh left it’s place against your clit, much to your dismay, she concluded, by the way you whined into the empty space. “I know, honey, just give me a second.”

And it really was only a second before she was pushing your underwear out of the way and sinking her finger into you with little regard for who could find the two of you in such a compromising position.

“You want me to ruin you, honey? Right here where anyone could hear how wet you are - could see the way you shake for me?” The whine that followed was high in your throat and cut off by a gasp as her finger curled inside you. “Been wanting you for so long, and now I’ve got you making a mess all over my fingers. Lucky me.”

Then there was a second finger, followed by a third, and the way your hand gripped at her hair made her dizzy in the best sort of way. “Daddy - oh fuck - please! Give it to me.”

“Don’t you worry, baby. Daddy’s gonna take such good care of her girl.”

[redvelvetnat]

full throttle redemption

bodyguard!natasha x political figure!reader

summary ➞ just after you began your political career, natasha romanoff attempted to assassinate you under the orders of the red room. so, naturally, you hired her as your bodyguard. now, in the midst of running for president, there’s been a shift in the nature of your relationship. word count : 4.2k

disclaimer ➞ 18+, strong language, implied age gap (natasha is slightly older but everything is 100% legal), smut, oral ( r reviving), fingering (r receiving), strap on use (double ended), dirty talk (praise + degradation + a little dumbification + pet names)

a/n ➞ this whole thing came from me seeing a picture of beefy nat in endgame so that was a wild ride. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3 gif source

The idea of mystery had always enthralled you.

To have something dangle in your face and still fail to understand it was entirely too appealing to someone who had always been filled with a need to want - and to, subsequently, keep wanting until there was nothing left. You could admit that you were greedy in that way.

Lucky for you, Natasha Romanoff was a complete enigma - one of the biggest mysteries you’d ever had the privilege of encountering. Although, ‘encounter’ wouldn’t be your ideal choice of word; it sounded entirely too pleasant for the whole ordeal considering she had sought you out under the conviction that she was going to kill you.

It happened nearly four years to the day. But it could have been a year ago - or a day ago - the way that you remembered every detail down to the stomach-turning icy feeling of her knife when she pressed it against the hollow of your throat.

You remember the sickening growl in her voice, when it dropped down an octave and hovered just at your ear so that she could tell you ‘God, I’d just love to have a spoiled little bitch like you begging for my mercy but I’ve grown quite fond of you so I’ll spare you the suffering’. And you remember the cold chill that ran down your spine immediately after that.

To this day, you’re still unsure how you made it out of there alive and unharmed. You did figure it had something to do with the fact that her eyes kept flickering to your chest with every shaky breath that heaved in your lungs. Or maybe it was the way they fell to your lips as you whimpered a weak promise of ‘it’s okay, go ahead’ in that whine she would never, out loud, admit to falling in love with.

All of that aside, you had never understood the woman and had come to turns with the fact that you probably never would. Though, you did find it best not to question the loyalty she had grown for you in the days that followed. After all, it had been years now and she still had yet to let you down.

When you hired her, you figured you’d learn more about her and you did - in a way.

You learned that she liked her coffee black but she wouldn’t get it from that coffee shop down the street because their muffins were too hard on the outside. And that her favorite place to eat was the grill downtown because none of the waitresses flirted with her while she ate and they always got her order right, no matter how complicated - because, you also learned, she was not one of those people who were too afraid to ask for their order to be exactly how they liked it.

But, still, you could never really know her. And that was something you were beginning to accept.

Tonight was no different.

Your muscles are growing noticeably weaker by the time the tiredness sets in and the excitement of the day finally begins to dwindle under the dim lamp-light of your bedroom. Your chest tightens as you’re left with whatever thoughts have managed to free themselves and run rampant in your exhausted brain.

“Will that be all for the night, boss?” Natasha’s voice is gentle as she stands in the hall and peaks her head in the doorway, careful and slow - like she does every other night she asks that same question - as she tries to avoid scaring you with her sudden intrusion.

You turn on your heel and your eyes fall onto her as a sigh passes your lips, “I think so, Natty, yeah.”

Even though you don’t ask for help, she watches you struggle to reach for the zipper at the back of your dress and her head cocks to the side curiously, “Would you like me to help you?” She treads carefully with her question, fearing that she’d overstep any boundaries.

Both of her hands come up and wrap around either side of the bulky doorframe as she begins to rock on her feet in wait of your answer. A soft ‘please’ finally unhitches from your aching throat, a hint of that whine in your tone makes the red-head have to swallow a smile.

You tug frustratedly at the hips of your dress, feeling constricted in the tight fabric, and she lets a breathy chuckle erupt in her chest before catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “Every time.” She jokes as she pushes into the room, gently pressing the door closed behind her with a soft click.

You huff, “It’s not my fault. I can’t reach the goddamn zipper.” Your genuine irritation makes her laugh, a much fuller sound this time. “Of course not, Madam President.”

“Oh please,” you hiss as a look of discontentment paints across your face, “I’m not president yet and I doubt I ever will be if the press doesn’t stop treating me as a joke. Did you see the way they talked to me tonight?”

The older woman moves to you with a disagreeing hum, squaring herself behind you with a hand on either of your shoulders. The gesture forces a heat behind your cheeks and you fight from meeting her intimidating observance.

“Oh, don’t mind them. They’re bloodsuckers. You do great in every interview and your polls are up from last week. People are really taking a liking to you.”

Your eyebrows push up then, “Like when you took a liking to me?” She knows it’s part joke but that doesn’t stop her from noticing the uncertainty that sparkles in your eyes. “If I hadn’t taken a liking to you, I would have followed through with my plan to assassinate you.”

The truth in her statement has you wringing your hands together nervously and the room falls silent as you contemplate her answer. A small ‘maybe you should have’ slips out from under your breath and makes Natasha’s own heart begin to ache in her chest. But she ultimately decides not to comment.

Instead, she takes the zipper of your dress between patient fingers as her eyes flash to yours through the glass of the full-body mirror in front of you. You shift anxiously, watching as she guides the small metal piece down the stretch of your back until the connecting fabric falls away at your sides.

“Maybe presidency isn’t worth all these formal events and uncomfortable dresses.” You attempt to return the playfulness into the air between you as you shimmy out of the dress and letting it pool onto the floor around your feet.

Natasha offers a fatigued laugh, “Well, if you didn’t wear uncomfortable dresses, then I wouldn’t have the privilege of taking them off of you.” The evening’s second wave of heat rushes to your cheeks at the implication of her words.

Your relationship with Natasha had been like this, since the moment you two had become comfortable with each other - harmless banter turned into empty flirting when there weren’t any perked ears around to hear. She liked to make you flustered when the two of you were alone; watch you fumble around for words and try to figure out how to play it cool under the watch of her distracting green eyes.

She eventually shuffles away from you, letting the back of her calves hit your bed-frame before she takes a seat on the mattress. “So what is it? You don’t like all the attention you get at your big, fancy, rich-people parties?” The obvious distaste in her voice makes you turn to face her again with an unreadable expression, carefully stepping out of the puddle of fabric.

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I just…” You voice trials off as you try to find the words, padding towards the bed as her eyes flicker over your half-naked body. “I miss being able to go out - I can’t even go to the gas station for a slushie without cameras in my face and press shouting about whether I support this or why I don’t support that.”

Natasha tilts her head, “I can go get you a slushie if you’d like.” You practically melt at the genuine concern in her voice, moving to sit next to her on the bed. “That’s very sweet of you but also not the point, Nat. I just miss being able to get in the car and go somewhere without a million people trailing at my heels.”

Natasha’s eyes fall to her lap as she thinks, then they flicker back to you. “You miss me not being up your ass all the time?” Her lip tilts playfully, she’s hoping her hopeful attempt at making you laugh with succeed and it does when a giggle falls from your lips. “You are the least of my problems. If anything, you make all this work somewhat tolerable.”

She echoes back your ‘somewhat’ to make you laugh again as you scoot closer to her. “Yeah, somewhat. Don’t let that go to your head.” She nudges your shoulder playfully, “Oh no, it definitely already has. Knowing you can’t live without me.”

“Hey, I never said that!”

The two of you laugh in harmony for a moment before a comforting lull washes over you both. Her hand finds your knee, thumb rubbing gentle circles against the skin and your head falls onto her shoulder.

She can feel a tear wet her skin through the thin material of her shirt and she quickly shrugs your head away so she can take your face between her hands. “Hey, why are you crying?”

You shake your head and move to wipe the stray tears, “It’s just the stress, it makes me emotional.” You say through a half-hearted laugh; mostly at how ridiculous you feel to be crying right now.

“You need to de-stress.” Her words are a soft hum as her eyes dart around your face. “May I?” Your eyebrows knit in confusion before she’s leaning towards you and, suddenly, you can feel her breath against your lips.

It’s now that you realize the hand that had fallen back to your knee has tightened its grip and, as much as you hate to admit it, your thighs clench in excitement at the implication that she is preparing to kiss you. The thumb that is still pressed to your face swipes at your cheek reassuringly, “Is this okay?” but her eyes don’t leave your lips as she speaks.

A nod from you is all she needs to connect your mouths, hers beginning to work gently against yours as you crane forward to meet her half-way. You attempt to fight her for some type of dominance but it’s a futile fight when her tongue presses against the seam of your lips and you nearly melt into a puddle on the bed.

There’s something eternal about the way she kisses you - like you could stay here forever and never need to pull away or do anything other than kiss her for the rest of your entire life.

Your body twists to face her fully, knees coming up to tuck underneath you until you’re taller than her. Her free hand presses against your stomach so that her fingers are free to explore the skin she’d been staring at for the last bout of your conversation.

You toy with the strands of hair that usually frame her chiseled expression, pushing them out of the way. A delighted hum falls from her mouth and into yours, the sound causing you to part from her lips just enough to lock eyes with her.

You’re still towering above her but you only hold eye contact for a moment to say a million things with your eyes without uttering a word.

“Let me.” She finally mutters to break the silence and concentration. You know the words ‘take control’ are lingering somewhere at the end of her sentence but neither of you really need her to clarify as she surges her body towards you and forces you onto your back.

She’s expressing so many different emotions with her lips as she moves to hover over you and attaches them to your throat eagerly. Their path is linear across the skin, trailing the same length that her blade once had - almost as if she’s saying i’m sorry.

But the sweet burn of excited nerves makes it hard for you to concentrate on the meaning behind her actions as you revel in the delightful stinging feeling. Your knees bend towards the ceiling and feet plant against the bed, inviting her to settle between your thighs; which she does without hesitation.

Your fingers work off the buttons of her shirt, letting her tie fall and brush against your exposed stomach. When her torso is finally freed of the shirt, you push it away and toss it to gather onto the floor.

She stops kissing you for a moment, the slightest bit of fear swimming around in her olive eyes, as you examine the scars littered across her toned abdomen.

There’s one in particular, it’s raised and a pale pink much lighter than her complexion. Goosebumps flutter over her flesh when your fingers graze it and she instantly softens at the interest in your gaze. Her nerves wash away as her lips twitch with a smirk and she says “I’ll tell you all about them one day.”

You confirm the idea with a kiss, pulling her impossibly closer to you by tangling her tie in your fist and yanking her to you. Her laugh fans against your lips as she kisses you, failing to bite back the smile that’s been threatening to ruin the kiss since your mouths had first connected.

“I’ve been dreaming about this moment forever.” She admits, pushing up to sit on her knees and unbuckle the dress pants around her hips. You help pull them down her thighs, not bothering to leave the red-cotton underwear underneath them as she kicks it all onto the floor.

“You have?” It’s hard to hide the shyness that entangles itself in your voice so you move to press your face against her chest, littering it with gentle kisses and nips but she notices the shift in your demeanor anyway and lowers herself back down to your eye-line. “Look at you. Of course I have.”

She accents her truth by letting her lips find the valley of your chest, hands sliding around to undo the clip of your bra with ease, as if she had been doing it for years.

When the bra falls away, her lips attach to your nipple; taking the sensitive bud between her teeth and flicking at it with her tongue.

You almost wonder if she’d been studying your body without your knowledge - learning how to bite and kiss and lick in just the right way to force the air to deflate from your lugs and push those melodic moans from your throat.

“You sound so pretty.” She comments in between licks down your trembling stomach, fingers curling around your underwear to pull the soaked fabric down your legs and leave them to dangle from the bed-frame. “Love it when you sing for me.”

Another wave a goosebumps prick at your skin as she nips against your thighs, eyes looking up to find yours through her fluttering eyelashes and the sight alone makes a rush of your arousal drip onto the bedsheets.

Her hand comes up and presses against your sensitive skin, right above where your underwear would begin and she hums, “Do you always tremble like this when a woman touches you?”

You want to say no - deny, deny, deny, right? - and you wouldn’t technically be lying but you’ve also never willingly submitted to someone as easily as you were for her. There had never been a woman who knew how to handle your body the way she was doing now.

Lucky for you, or maybe unlucky for you, there isn’t time to answer because her flattened tongue falls out between her lips and caresses your entrance like she’d been starving all her life and you were the only food she had ever been offered.

The sudden pleasure overtakes you in a gasp, body shuddering away from the bed just to chase the feeling of her tongue. She laughs into the skin of your thigh, holding your legs open with her muscled arms, “So eager.”

She surges towards you again, burying her face in your folds and pushing her tongue into you as far as she can. You clench around her, embarrassingly tight, but it only spurs her on as she simultaneously nudges your clit with her nose and explores the fluttering walls of your cunt with her tongue.

One of her hands leaves your thigh as her mouth moves raises to suckle at your clit. A finger probes the empty hole that her tongue had only just vacated. “You taste fucking amazing. Anyone ever tell you that?”

You don’t want to answer. Not because no one had - you’ve heard it on more than one occasion - but because you’d rather forget that you’d ever been touched before her. Well, you had never been touched like this, anyway.

When her finger finally dips into your cunt, you let out an extremely loud and rather whorish moan that shatters any of the composure either of you had been left with. “That’s it.” She encourages as her finger curls inside you and your hips crane to meet her.

She lashes her tongue against your clit in one long stroke to soften the upcoming blow of her pulling away completely. Your chest is rattled with a needy whine that makes the other woman throb between her own legs. “Shhh angel, I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

You want to protest, or maybe panic as you fear you’ve done something wrong, but she’s already pulling your robe onto her shoulders and shuffling out the door before you have the chance to. Your legs twitch and clench at the empty feeling, slick coating your thighs and surely the bed beneath you.

Even though it’s only a few shot seconds, it seems to be years before she returns. When she does, an excited grin is playing across her lips as she shuts the door. The curiosity in your gaze is answered as she turns to you and lets the robe fall away, onto the floor. A thick, flesh-colored strap stands tall between her toned legs.

As she’s standing there, chest puffed confidently and you ogling the toy dangling from her hips, you can picture the crude words glowing across a neon sign: ‘DESPERATE BOSS GETS FUCKED BY HER BEEFY BODYGUARD (LOTS OF MOANING, REAL ORGASM!!)’

Natasha leans forward and kisses at your knee, hand curling around your calf to spread your legs so that she is free to slot herself between them. “Couldn’t wait to fuck you proper, angel. I’ve got to right now.” She explains, head falling to your neck where she begins to press gentle kisses.

You hum in total agreement, hands caressing the skin on her back as she kissed down your neck to your shoulder, letting her teeth scrape against your pulse before she comes up to kiss you.

“You want me to fuck you as bad as I want to fuck you?”

You answer embarrassingly quick with a ‘yes, yes please’, hands darting into her hair to grip on excitedly. “Oh baby, such perfect manners. You’re so starved of attention, huh?” Her tone is very much Natasha, playful and condescending but they still warm your belly in anticipation.

The strap nudges your clit as you eagerly take it in your hand, her eyes flutter closed at both the feeling of the toy shifting and the squeak that falls from your lips. You want to show her how good you can be as you pump the toy with your first; it becomes very evident, very quickly, that the other end of the toy is nuzzled inside her cunt.

The pleasured sounds she makes encourage you to meet her sights. Your eyes are screaming ‘fuck me, please, i’ll be so good for you’ when they lock onto hers and hers are almost saying ‘i know baby, gonna fuck you so good’ even as the toy pushes into you slow enough for you to feel your walls stretch to accommodate its girth.

She brings herself onto her knees, both hands wrenched into your hips as her arm muscles contract with the strength she uses to grip them. You could have cum right then and there, watching the animalistic need take over her as she begins pumping her hips into yours.

She’s chasing her own need, as well as yours, and the thought of it makes you want to behave just enough to see her cum because of you.

A shattered moan escapes you and bounces off the walls as she rolls her hips particularly deep, moving languidly and expertly to hit just the right spots. “You’re so messy, peach. Making a big mess of my cock.” Her words are grunted through her own labored breathing and your pathetic mewling.

“You take me so well, I’m so proud of you, my girl.” You respond with a mindless chant of ‘so good, natty, so fucking good’.

She subtly corrects your use of her name with, “Mommy’s got you so drunk on my cock, isn’t that right baby? Not a single thought behind those pretty little eyes once I get my hands on you?” and laughs wickedly as she comes down to kiss you again and her hips pick up speed.

The authority behind her tone makes you clench around the toy, gripping at her back for dear life. She growls into your ear when your nails break at the skin, never letting her hips falter but, instead, speeding up to a pace that makes you question if she’s real.

Even as she’s fucking you, toy balls-deep inside your dripping cunt, you wonder if all of this is a dream. Because she’s fucking you too well, and she knows our body too well, and she knows just what to say to keep you riled up.

She must have seen the haze in your eyes as your mind wonders because she grips at your chin, letting one arm down flex by your head and hold herself up. “Come back to me, my peach, focus on Mommy and just how good she fucks you, yeah?”

“So good, Mommy!” It’s a shout more than anything, desperately trying to grab onto something that’s going to keep you grounded as she fucks into you deeper and her breath echoes by your ears.

“Oh the poor dumb baby just needed to be fucked good. You wanna run a whole country and still let Mommy spread you open and fuck you stupid on my cock? Is that what you need, baby?”

“Mommy, please. Gonna cum. Can I - oh god - can I cum for you Mommy?”

She lets out a delighted laugh then, hand trailing away from your chin to caress circles around your clit, “Cum for me, angel. Let it all out, sweet girl.”

You try to hold it; to keep this feeling going as you almost fear you’ll never get it again, but something springs open inside of you and you let out a scream into the quieted second level of the house as you cum.

“That’s so good, you’re so pretty.” The praises come from her in sweet tongue rolls, pants and gasps falling from her lips as her own cunt twitches around the toy’s opposite end. “Yes, Mommy’s so close, baby. Fuck, just hang on.”

You can see her struggle to keep whatever is left of her composure, hips sloppy as they drill yours into the mattress. She groans into your shoulder as she cums around the toy, hissing about how beautiful you are and how she loves the way you look underneath her. But the words are muffled by the sound of the blood rushing in your ears as you struggle to regain your breath.

In fear of overstimulating your - already shot - nervous system, she pulls out smoothly. You whimper, choking on the air in your throat and she rubs at your chest soothingly. “You’re okay, my peach, you’re okay.”

You pull her into a kiss as she collapses beside you, gripping onto her as if you’re scared she’ll disappear underneath your fingertips. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’m gonna get you the win you deserve.”

It’s impossible to fight the tiredness that overtakes you as your head falls against her naked chest and her fingers rake through your hair as she mumbles comforts and nicknames you wonder whether or not they’ll ever leave this bedroom.

[redvelvetnat]

common tongue

switch!wanda x bottom!reader x top!natasha

introduction into the moments silence universe

summary ➞ with a new house to chase away the loneliness of her recent divorce, wanda wasn’t prepared for her (married) boss/neighbor to have such interesting sex habits. word count : 4.8k

disclaimer ➞ 18+, strong language, wine consumption, smut, non-con voyeurism, strap-on use, threesome, heavy dirty talk (degradation + praise + pet names), oral sex (r + wanda receiving), all legal age gap (r + natasha are slightly older than wanda)

a/n ➞ not my best work but i was sick of looking at this in my drafts. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! gif source natasha , wanda

“…and the sex is amazing.”

Wanda knew she shouldn’t have been standing outside your office door; not with the millions of things she could have been doing around the building and the million other things to be done at her own desk.

Whether she had been technically eavesdropping on your weekly phone call with Carol was still up for debate. No matter the ethics of the situation, she had heard the words leave your lips; crystal clear and followed immediately by how lucky you were to have found the love of your life.

The entire situation was exactly the reason Wanda found herself here, now, entering her house with shaking hands that only worsened as she open the untouched bottle of red wine that had been sitting in her refrigerator for god knows how long.

It had all happened so fast - Wanda swimming so deep in her own thoughts that she missed you ending your call as well as the echo of your footsteps towards the office door. It was only the sound of the knob turning that caught her attention, right before the door swung open to reveal her standing at the other side without so much as a decent alibi.

By the time she knew what was happening, you were pulling her into your office and taunting her about listening in - spying - on you. “Do you like hearing about my sex life Wanda? Does that excite you?”

Of course it did. Just as it excited her to watch you and your wife pull into the driveway and step out of that shiny, new, black, sports car every day. Or when she saw the two of you leaving for work, dripping with that been-married-for-years-and-still-in-the-honeymoon-phase glow.

There was just something about it that always seemed to catch Wanda’s attention. Maybe she found a comfort in catching a glimpse of a normal marriage - one unlike what she had just gotten herself out of.

By the time you had finished torturing her and sent her home for the day, her face had been glowing a fire-engine red color and burned with something that the word ‘embarrassment’ did little to embody.

Which brought her to her kitchen; mumbling a string of curses and attempting to drown her embarrassment in wine that tasted as cheap as it had cost.

When she had finally gotten enough to staring at the white tile backdrop, Wanda decided the livingroom would be a more comfortable place to wallow in her own self-pity and drink the night away until the hangover tomorrow was damn near incurable.

She killed the kitchen lights and began to trudge into the living space. It felt heavy with the same lonely feeling the kitchen had; solemn and shrouded in darkness.

Sighing into the room, she abandoned the bottle onto the coffee table and turned on her heel towards the light-switch before her attention was caught by movement out of the corner of her eye. Absentmindedly, she swiveled to close the open-curtains before a gasp echoed into the room.

From her position, Wanda could see directly through the window adorning your wife’s home office. More specifically, she could see Natasha - she thinks she remembers your wife to be named - fucking you against her new-wood mahogany work desk.

Your body strained against the barren surface - the materials that usually adorned it had already been scattered across the floor - as shaky hands held yourself up-right the best that you could.

Natasha’s mouth moved next to your ear, grunting words through gritted teeth as her hips snapped a cherry-red strap deeper and harder inside of you; much to your content, it seemed.

Wanda was helpless in stopping her attention from falling to your face; contorted into pleasure and blubbering with inaudible profanities and sounds Wanda could only imagine to sound just as attractive as your voice always had.

She knew she needed to move, to distract herself with something - anything. But she’d be lying to say she wanted to look away as her eyes zeroed in on the way your bodies molded together despite the hand that extended behind you and pressed firmly against Natasha’s abdomen.

One particularly loud moan, a shuttering and drawn-out “Yes, Nat, fuck!”, echoed from your house to Wanda’s. The muffled words alone made Wanda press her thighs together as she tried desperately to tear herself away from the window. Close the blinds - she told herself but there wasn’t a muscle in her body that made any effort to move.

Then, in one quick motion and without missing a beat, Natasha flipped you around and pinned your ass against the edge of the furniture. Her hands slid up the sides of your torso as she relayed something to you that Wanda could not make out.

But Natasha began to fuck into you harder as your eyes widened at whatever she had. Her hand curled delicately around your chin and forced your head into the exact direction of where Wanda was staring from her window; a wicked smirk playing on your wife’s lips and shock evident over your face.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Wanda leapt forward quickly, scrambling for the blinds and nearly pulling them off their mount as she fumbled to close them.

Her nervously sweating hands found the the thighs of her dress slacks, heart beginning to pound harder against her chest. “I’m so fucking fired! God fucking damnit!” She screeched into the darkness, body vibrating with a terrifying cocktail of fear and adrenaline as she sorted through what to do next.

As if the ordeal hadn’t been enough to make her nearly shit her pants, the doorbell echoing throughout her house sent her soaring into the air and clutching at her chest.

“Shit, fuck.” She cussed again, shakily stumbling towards the hallway with the growing lump in her throat. Her heartbeat echoed louder as she approached the door, dread bubbling in her chest.

Her hand curled around the doorknob, twisted, then came to a pause. If she was smart she would just not open the door, move cities and change her name to start a new life where she could pretend that none of this had ever happened.

She jumped when the doorbell rang again, “I know you’re in there, Maximoff.” Oh - so this was it. This was Wanda’s last moment of aliveness before your wife would undoubtedly slit her throat the moment Wanda revealed herself to be on the other side of the door.

She could climb out the window. Or break down in guilt-ridden tears and babble on and on about her messy divorce until the red-head took pity on her and left her there to drown in a pool of her own pathetic tears.

Without much help from her frazzled brain, Wanda pulled the knob and drew the door open. She was met with Natasha’s striking green gaze, accented with a single cocked eyebrow.

It was now that Wanda realized she had never been up-close with your wife - and that she was a thousand times more terrifying at this distance.

“I-uh-I…” Her mouth was working without her brain as she tried to find the words at the tip of her tongue. She was far more than embarrassed; cheeks hot and beet red the same way they had been leaving your office earlier in the day.

As she fumbled for words to say, the woman in front of her had the nerve to laugh - genuinely, and loudly, laugh at the flustered state of her neighbor who she’d just caught watching as she fucked you. Wanda couldn’t possibly understand what was funny about the situation.

“Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” She was toying with Wanda, that much was clear as her voice dropped to a smooth whisper and her lips widened into a smirk.

“I’m sorry.” It was a pathetic apology but it was also the only tangible thing Wanda was going to get out. She figured the red-head knew that as she pressed her shoulder against the doorframe casually to watch the younger woman twitch nervously.

They stood there in silence for a moment; Wanda blinking back the tears of embarrassment that burned at her eyes and Natasha watching her with an eerily calm demeanor.

Wanda expected her to yell, scream, maybe throw a few swings. But she didn’t, she just eyes the woman curiously.

“Come with me, kid.” She finally demanded, pushing off the doorframe and turning on her heels before sauntering back towards her own house without giving Wanda much time to decide.

Wanda fumbled for a moment before figuring it was best to follow Natasha’s instructions. She pulled the front door closed behind her and skidded after the woman in her own twisted ‘walk of shame’.

“Mrs. Romanoff.” Natasha laughed once again, “Nat is fine.” She corrected, glancing over her shoulder as she pushed her front door open. Wanda could hardly understand how this was a time for formalities.

Her breath caught in her throat as she stepped through the threshold of the house, suddenly feeling entirely too small against the tall ceilings and warm air that surrounded her.

Your house looked exactly as she had imagined it to. It resembled one of those high-end, industrial, New York apartments Wanda had fallen in love with. The windows covered most of the walls and what little they didn’t was accented with pieces of fine artwork. Wanda couldn’t even begin to imagine how much they had cost.

“Nat, look, I’m really sorry but-”

“Oh, quit your blubbering and come on. Don’t want to keep her waiting do you?”

Wanda’s chest went ice cold at the implication that you were waiting for her. You had probably already called the police on her for stalking and now your wife was corralling her into your home so that she had no chance to run.

Hell, you probably had the barrel of a shotgun aimed straight down the hall as you waited for Wanda to open whatever door you were perched behind.

Okay, maybe that was a bit excessive.

Natasha came to a stop in front of the door at the end of the hallway and pushed it open before the other woman even had time to catch up to her.

Between the growing lump in Wanda’s throat and the shake that had settled into her hands once again, it wouldn’t have surprised her is she simply passed out right then and there.

Another attempt at an apology twitched at the end of Wanda’s tongue, only to die out the moment the door swung open and revealed you kneeling on the floor at the end of the bed, wearing no more clothing than you had been when she was watching Natasha fuck you just moments ago.

Wanda’s eyes darted down your naked body, sitting surprisingly docile and on complete display to her, and immediately flickered over to Natasha who looked more-than-amused at the flustered twitching that caused the younger woman to stumble back a few paces.

Natasha pressed a firm hand against the small of Wanda’s back and her thumb came forward to force Wanda’s chin back in a position to face you, encouraging her to look.

If her throat hadn’t have been so dry, Wanda might have started to drool as you met her eyes with an expression that read come on, Wanda, I don’t bite.

Natasha’s presence weighed heavy behind her but she’d be damned if she tore her attention away from you now, especially as the red-head pushed her further into the room.

“Don’t be shy - now - Maximoff.” Natasha teased with yet another laugh as Wanda’s eyes began to glaze over excitedly, “Am I dreaming?” She certainly was a few moments away from pinching herself.

It was your turn to giggle, as if there was some running joke in the air that Wanda was missing out on. “You hear that, baby? She thinks you’re a dream.” Natasha spoke with amusement and pressed closer, followed the sound of the door clicking shut.

“Have you ever done it?” Natasha asked suddenly, breaking the concentration Wanda had put into staring as you as her eyebrows knit in confusion. “Done…?” She asked without taking her eyes off yours.

Natasha cleared her throat to draw Wanda’s attention back. When Wanda turned reluctantly, the same toy Natasha had been using earlier was dangling from her fingers. The gulp that sounded from deep within Wanda’s throat was answer enough, no, she had never used one.

Natasha’s eyes fell curiously over the younger woman, wondering how she’d been so…innocent and still managed to take an interest in you of all people. The same woman Natasha had witnessed overwhelm even her most confident of friends. And here Wanda was, all doe-eyed and drooling; being served you on a silver platter and still too clouded with nerves to know what to do with you.

As Natasha began to peel away her clothes, it became wickedly clear to her that she’d have to teach Wanda what to do with you. Lucky for Wanda, Natasha was an expert at that by now.

“I’ll show you, in due time.” There was no reason to rush things. Despite the obvious nerves, the look in Wanda’s eyes indicated that she was at least somewhat enjoying herself. And, with the adoring way you had talked about Wanda in the last few weeks, Natasha figured it wouldn’t be the last time she would be invited into your bedroom.

But, in classic Natasha fashion, she was going to have to break the innocence that clouded Wanda’s conscience - there was no room for that here.

“She can be a real slut if you use it right.” Just as Natasha had figured it would, the language made Wanda’s eyes widen as she nearly choked on the air in her lungs.

“Oh, don’t be so prissy, Maximoff. She likes when you talk about her like that. Isn’t that right, dove?” It was now only the second time Natasha had regarded you since the two of them had entered the room.

Wanda’s attention shifted back to you in time to catch the fervent nod of your head as you watched Natasha pull the toy back on with eager eyes. “Look at her, she’s practically begging you to touch her.”

You looked up at Wanda then, eyes full of a submission she had never experienced before in regards to you. It was very much unlike the confidence you displayed at work; the one that seemed to natural and always ensured you were payed the full-extent of the respect you deserved.

Now was different, you looked small and fragile at Wanda’s feet and she couldn’t help but wonder how Natasha fought the urge to reach down and scoop you into her arms every time you flashed those eyes at her.

The power Wanda felt over you was completely unfamiliar to her but she pushed closer nonetheless.“Go ahead.” Natasha encouraged the sudden boldness.

Wanda visibly hesitated before moving to press her thumb against your bottom lip. As if trained to do so - which, of course, you had been - you took the digit between your lips and began sucking at it without letting your eyes fall from Wanda’s.

“Look. At. You.” Natasha cooed, accentuating each word all on its own as she stepped behind you and gathered your hair at the back of your head. Her hands slid down to hold the curve of your jaw between her palms and successfully hold your attention on Wanda.

“Good girl.” It surprised even Wanda herself as she said it, fully preparing to pull away in embarrassment if it hadn’t have been for the moan that vibrated against the pad of her thumb.

The surprise in Wanda’s expression must have given her away as Natasha piped in with a, “She loves the praise, practically lives for it. I bet you’ve already made her pretty cunt all messy.” Wanda’s heart sped up at the thought - or maybe just the words themselves - heat building desperately between her own legs as she imagined what was to come next.

“Go find out, Maximoff.” It was all the approval she needed for her to sink onto her knees in an attempt to reach between your parted thighs. But she was interrupted by Natasha, “Hey, no. Get up.” She complied at the tone in Natasha’s voice, confusion disregarded as she focused on not upsetting the older woman.

“You make her come to you. If she wants us to use her like the greedy little fucktoy she is, she’ll have to work for it.”

The condescending tone in your wife’s voice, speaking as if you weren’t even in the room, forced a whimper from your chest. The sound made Wanda release a sharp breath as a smug smile spread further across Natasha’s face.

Wanda cleared her throat, fishing inside herself for the confidence she knew she was going to have to have if she didn’t want to blow her shot at fucking you. “On the bed.” Short and sweet was the demand, earning her a chuckle of approval from the older woman beside her and an eager comply from you.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder, “Impressive, Maximoff. There you go.” Natasha purred in a voice that made Wanda want to let out a whimper of her own. But she refrained and instead sent a curt nod as she tried to steady her wobbly legs.

Your back sunk further into the soft mattress as Wanda took a step towards you. Her hand came down and brushed against the bruises already forming on your knees before sliding up towards the soft skin of your thigh, examining the way your legs parted in invitation for either of the women above you.

Unlike the whimper she had managed to swallow moments ago, Wanda did let out a groan at the sight of you and wasted absolutely no time in running a timid finger through your slick folds. Natasha had been right, you were wet all the way down your thighs.

You gasped at the suddenly intrusion of Wanda’s finger probing at your entrance and clenched around nothing as Natasha spoke again, “See, Maximoff. What did I tell you? She can’t help but make a mess.” Wanda was unsure of what to do next as she watched your hips buck towards her finger.

“Can I-…” Wanda didn’t even have to finish her question before Natasha was mumbling something about ‘do whatever you want, she’ll take it’ which was lost on your ears as you focused on the desperation growing in your cunt.

Wanda ducked towards you and her tongue darted out to lash at your swollen clit. The moan she was rewarded with encouraged her to keep going, circling her lips around the sensitive bud.

Needy sounds tumbled from your lips, Wanda’s own moans began vibrating against your clit as she pushed her tongue deeper - she was tasting you as if she had never eaten a decent meal in her life and never would again. Your hands flew into her hair and further rewarded her with approving tugs and yanks.

Your squirming did not go unnoticed by your wife, “Hold her down. You’re in charge.” Wanda complied without hesitation, bracing both hands on either side of your hips and anchoring them against the bed as your attempts at thrashing against her face did not falter.

The sounds of Wanda practically devouring you echoed in the space around you, the quietness of the house long intruded, especially as your wife encouraged the newest addition to your bedroom, “Come on, Maximoff. Look at her, she’s being so good for you. Why don’t you make her cum, sweetheart?” Wanda had never wanted to do anything more and the nickname in itself brought her to begin rubbing sharp circles against your clit.

Natasha was impressed. Admittedly, she had thought she was going to have to coach Wanda on more than just taking charge. But she was fucking you with her tongue like she had been practicing all her life and deserved a certificate.

It was apparent that you thought the same. “Fuck, Wanda. Please, please, let me cum!” And Wanda would have, without a doubt, if Natasha hadn’t tangled a hand in her hair and yanked her away without so much as a warning to either of you.

Your wife’s laugh boomed as a choked sob escaped your heaving lungs, hips craning desperately to follow the retreat of Wanda’s face. Even a whimper fell from the other woman’s lips but she didn’t dare disobey the red-head standing above her.

“Oh, come on, dove. You didn’t really think it’d be that easy, huh?” You had, actually - and the whine you let out alerted Natasha of this.

Natasha cooed a mix of ‘poor baby’ and ‘little slut’ from behind Wanda but it was swallowed by the blood rushing in her ears; pure excitement over the hand that tightened further at the roots of her hair.

It was very clear to her now; no matter what kind of power she ever managed to build over you, Natasha would always be in control. Always. And that intrigued her entirely.

Still, she hadn’t wanted to stop. Not with the sweet moans and the fiery confidence building in her chest that she had been rewarded with.

Natasha motioned to the top of the bed where your head was frustratedly thrown back against the mattress as you tried to catch your breath. “Over there.”

Wanda began to move around you, and prepared herself to crawl at the top of the bed until Natasha grabbed at the waistband of her dress pants and let it snap back against her skin.

“I meant on her face, sweetheart.” Natasha corrected.

The courage Wanda had grown immediately began to deplete as she glanced down at the button of her pants. “Oh, okay.” She let out a shaky breath as her fingers fumbled with the fastens. She wanted to - god, did she want to - but she was entirely nervous to expose herself now.

“Let me.” Your voice was soft as you spoke, for the first time, in a sentence that hadn’t been clouded by desperate whines or obeying hums. Wanda glanced at you, then at Natasha who only gave her an assuring nod as she sensed the nerves radiating off of Wanda once again.

Wanda returned her attention to you, hands falling to her sides as yours came up to undo her pants. You were, unsurprisingly, good at unbuckling them from your sideways position before helping Wanda pull them down along with the thin cotton material of her underwear.

Natasha moved forward and pressed a gentle kiss at the base of Wanda’s neck, the first non-verbal affection she had shown to either of you and her only attempt of the night to calm the younger woman’s nerves. And it worked, especially as her lips trailed gently up towards the younger woman’s ear and her fingers began to work open the buttons of her shirt.

“This okay, Maximoff?” The question was odly comforting coming from Natasha with the soft breath that brushed against her earlobe and Wanda let out a soft ‘yes’ as the last of her clothes were peeled away. “See, not so bad.” She hummed and Wanda let out a breathy laugh.

“Open wide, dove.” Natasha nearly sung as she helped Wanda climb over your face and throw her outer thigh to the opposite side of your head.

Two moans rung out as Wanda sunk herself down onto your flattened tongue; Wanda’s as her eyes squeezed shut with a shuddered breath and yours and the taste of her coated your tongue. If she hadn’t have been so turned on, Wanda would have been embarrassed at the sloppy rhythm in which her hips began to stutter against your face.

“Guess my little dove isn’t the only slut around here, huh?” Natasha’s question went unanswered as Wanda’s fist found your hair and gripped as if she was afraid you’d disappear from between her thighs. Natasha didn’t pay much mind to the lack of an answer, she was going to cut the poor girl some slack for now.

You were lost in Wanda, so captivated by the way her cunt clenched around your tongue and the moans that unhitched from her throat when you lashed your tongue in a way she liked that you didn’t notice Natasha had moved downwards until the head of her toy probed at your own entrance.

“Keep making her feel good, baby, ‘wanna reward you with my cock.”

You let out an involuntary plead, muffled by Wanda’s echoing wetness and her chanting of “Yes, yes, yes! Good girl, yes, good girl!” just as Natasha pushed the toy inside you, all the way to the hilt, and left no time for you to adjust to it’s girth before she was pounding away at your hips.

“You’re so good for us, dove.” Natasha encouraged, her movements never faltering as she worked the toy inside you; deeper and at the same pace that your tongue worked at Wanda’s fluttering clit.

Natasha reached forward after a moment, circling her hand around Wanda’s throat and guiding her head to lean backwards. “Come on sweetheart, don’t you wanna cum?” Wanda nodded eagerly as her eyes squeezed shut at the overwhelming feeling of pleasure.

“No no no, Maximoff, I wanna watch that innocence melt away.”

Natasha sped up her hips against yours as Wanda let out a strangled cry and her eyes fell open to lock onto Natasha. “Is this what you thought about, sweetheart? When you watched me bend that pretty little whore of mine over my desk? Did you think about getting fucked just as good? Hmm?”

To accompany your wife’s words, your hand anchored between Wanda’s thighs, sinking into her cunt without so much as a lick of resistance as if making her cum had been your only goal for the entirety of your life.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna-…” The words were lost on Wanda’s drying lips as she clamped down around your fingers; hips bucking sporadically as she chased the ever-growing need to release.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.”

Natasha’s further encouragement was all Wanda needed before her head began reeling with the dizziness she had been chasing and her orgasm spasmed through the muscles in her body; each one of them screaming something along the lines of fuck yes as her death grip on your hair tightened impossibly.

Knowing your plead for your own release would go unheard over her own screaming, Wanda’s hand came down to rub desperately at your clit at the same time that Natasha drilled the toy into you with purpose.

“Cum for us. Come on, I want to see you cum.” Wanda pleaded between gasping breaths. Natasha smirked as she leaned forward to plant sloppy kisses against Wanda’s heaving lips and her hips worked harder even through the clenching you were doing. “Taking my cock so well, dove. Make a mess all over it.”

The sounds of your release were swallowed by Wanda’s thighs, still clenched tightly at either side of your head as you came. Wanda made a point of lifting away from your face so that your screams were free to bounce off the bedroom walls, a small bit of pride filling her chest as your clit pulsed against her fingertips.

Natasha watched intently as her hips slowed to a stop, squelching sounds following the calculated withdrawal of her hips in time with your orgasm subsiding. “There’s my good girl. My sweet girls.” Her thumb brushed adoringly against the bone of Wanda’s jaw.

Wanda’s emerald-colored eyes were black even under the yellow light of the night-table lamp which lewdly cast the shadow of the three of you against the far wall.

Natasha helped to guide Wanda off of you and settled her onto the bed beside you. When your hand found hers and entwined your fingers, she flickered a soft glance in your direction.

Her chest still retched with shallow breaths as she spoke, “What happens now?” She almost sounded sad - as if she was trying to etch it into her brain because it was going to dissipate from her fingertips and she’d never experience this sort of euphoria before.

Natasha laughed softly, without the sarcasm that had swam in her previous laughter that night. She emerged from the bathroom where she had been discarding the toy and fetching a few damp washcloths, “Now you rest. You think we were gonna kick you out?”

“I was hoping not.”

You laughed then, still breathy and exhausted, “Oh, you’ll be lucky if we can keep our hands off you now.”

[redvelvetnat]

non disclosure pt. 1

switch!wanda x bottom!reader x top!natasha

previous part : pity the arsonist

summary ➞ wanda will learn two very important lessons tonight. the first will be that submitting is easy when you’re kneeling at the feet of a woman with much more dominance than you. word count : 3.7k

disclaimer ➞ 18+, strong language, smut, use of sex toys (vibrator), masturbation, car sex, brief gagging, oral (w receiving), mommy/daddy kink, dirty talk (heavy degradation + praise + pet names),

a/n ➞ i’m so sorry for this, i woke up out of a dead sleep at 3 am with this stuck in my head and wrote it in the span of 3 1/2 hours. also this is part one because the next part will pick up directly after. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! gif source natasha , wanda

At this point, Wanda couldn’t exactly recall how she had gotten herself into this situation; how she had gone from the lonely divorcée next door to a freeuse fucktoy for her boss and her boss’s wife. Not that she was complaining at all - because she wasn’t.

And all she really cared about at the moment was trying not to ruin the ridiculously expensive seating in the back of Natasha’s sports car. The task in itself sounded easy, just sit still and don’t spill anything. But, with the way things were going now, her hands wouldn’t be responsible for the approaching disaster.

It was hard enough with the way you had been teasing her since the moment she made you cum this morning in your office, which then led to you graciously passing the baton to your red-headed wife - who had taken over said teasing within the ten minutes the three of you had spent in the car.

You and your wife, though, were acting as if nothing of the sort was happening to the woman who sat directly behind you as she tried to distract herself by keeping her attention on the space around her.

She noted that, when compared to the house and your office, the car’s dark interior and even darker tent was much more Natasha’s style than yours. Not to mention the red exterior that rivaled the fiery-color of her hair. It was sleek and flashy at the same time - so much like the woman perched in the driver’s seat, who seemed more than pleased with having this car as an extension of herself to show off.

Wanda’s stomach fluttered at the nonchalant way you both went about yourselves despite the dull vibration happening between her legs that forced Wanda to grip at the car door. Neither you nor Natasha seemed to care much about the squirming woman; your high-heeled feet kicked up onto the dash as Natasha revved the engine with that same cocky smile she always wore.

Wanda watched admiringly as your fingertips skimmed gently over the skin of your wife’s neck, finding her earlobe and taking it between two fingers before giving it a loving tug.

Without so much as a beat to think about it, Natasha’s free hand left your thigh and came up to circle around your wrist before pulling your hand in front of her and pressed her lips to your palm.

Wanda hadn’t ever gotten to see much of the affection that happened between the two of you. The harder she thought about it; the more she realized that, besides a few quick kisses when Natasha had visited you in the office and the gentle hand that always seemed to settle somewhere around your waist, she hadn’t seen any affection between you.

She knew it was most likely purposeful - something like only show the world what it needs to see. But it was nice, to watch that tough-guy veil lifted from Natasha’s demeanor and your shoulders relax against your seat for once.

“You seem awfully impatient to get home, baby.” You taunted as the engine roared again. But you weren’t talking to the twitching younger woman. The smirk that spread across your face very clearly a tease directed at your wife, even as you flashed it towards the back seat.

Natasha’s eyes flickered, first to you, and then to Wanda through the rear-view mirror. Wanda could have sworn they visibly darkened with lust as they locked onto her own pleading expression. “What can I say? I’ve never been a very patient woman.”

Natasha caught the red tint in Wanda’s cheeks just before her eyes fell back onto the road and the car rolled to a stop in time to idle under the red traffic-light. “Do I make you that nervous, Maximoff?” Yes and everyone in the car already knew that. But everyone also knew those urgent emerald-colored eyes were not the reason for her flushed cheeks.

The question earned her a playful pinch into her ribcage as you narrowed your eyes, “Quit fucking with her, Tasha. Before she passes out right there in the backseat.” Your wife only laughed as your feet slid off the dash and onto the carpeted floor. You swiveled in your seat to face Wanda, “Ignore her, she can’t help but be a dick.”

Wanda smiled then, appreciating that Natasha could joke with her; even if her distracted state made it hard to differentiate between when the red-head was joking and when she was being serious.

You shuffled back into your seat once the car picked up speed again and Natasha’s hand settling back onto your thigh to trace meaningless shapes against the exposed skin. You glanced up, eyes sparkling as you admired her features.

“How- how did you meet?” Wanda asked suddenly as she looked between you and your wife. The question came from a place of genuine curiosity as well as a continuation of her need to keep herself distracted.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Natasha’s lips and Wanda could practically see the wheels turning in her head, “I picked her up in a bar and fucked her brains out in the alley out back.” Wanda shifted, choking on the moan that the combination of vibrator and Natasha’s bluntness threatened to pull from her throat.

“Oh please,” You muttered and rolled your eyes as your hand fell to your lap and intertwined your fingers with Natasha’s, “as if I would even look in your direction if I saw you walk into a bar.” Wanda giggled at the feign hurt that blanketed the older woman’s face.

You sent a dull smack to Natasha’s shoulder, “And what did I just tell you about fucking with her?” You hissed playfully as Natasha sighed dramatically, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!”

The three of you fell into a softened laughter for a moment and then Natasha took the chance to speak once a calm washed over the car, “It’s a very very complicated story, sweetheart, probably best to save it for another day.” You followed up her statement with a hum of agreement.

The truth was, you had met Natasha during your first year of law school. Back when she was just some punk in a band who walked around like she was hot shit and preferred to go out of her way pissing people off than to bother giving a damn about anything - or anyone.

You and the people you surrounded yourself with were scholars who spent their days listening to poetry or studying themselves to death. Some of your long-term grade school friends would get casually drunk in their friend’s dorms at the extent of their deviance.

But Natasha was different, she went to shitty bars for fun and played her music too loud through all hours of the night. She was apathetic towards anyone’s feelings but her own and found joy in giving random douchebags black eyes just because she could.

To say you had hated each other would be an understatement.

Everyone who had ever set foot in that apartment building knew; if you hear arguing, it’s the tenants in 25B and 26A going at each other’s throats - leave them be or risk getting caught in the vicious crossfire.

By now, the story of your first conversation had been told and retold so many times that anyone who had ever heard it could recount a different version they had been told and neither you nor Natasha would confirm which story was technically correct - it was like a game; the two of you vs the rest of the world.

It wasn’t that there was anything inherently wrong with the original story. It was more about most people finding it a hard pill to swallow that any decently healthy relationship could stem from a conversation that happened somewhere along the lines of Natasha screaming ‘i hate you, you insufferable little brat’ followed by your ‘oh, Romanoff, I love it when you talk dirty to me’.

But the story in itself did a lot to delineate the dynamic that would eventually settle between the two of you. It was quite simple really; Natasha was happy to take the backseat and let everyone think you were the one in charge when, in reality, you’d fall to your knees at the drop of a dime and all she had to do was say the word.

Emotionally, though, Wanda could clearly see that your relationship was fairly balanced. Neither of you seemed to take much more than you gave. Wanda admired that and watching the two of you helped her to better understand how your sex life worked so well.

“Another time, then.” Wanda didn’t dare push further, knowing you’d give up what you wanted - when you wanted. You hummed in confirmation again and reached back to gently brush your fingers against Wanda’s knee.

You noticed her beginning to stir in her seat again - crossing and uncrossing her legs, adjusting her hips, twiddling with her fingers - as her eyes fell out the window. When your eyes flickered to your wife, her finger was pressed into the remote control in her lap and gently turning the dial.

“Natasha, your impatience is rubbing off on others.” You decided to play dumb to Natasha’s game, figuring it to be more fun that way. Wanda internally cursed your perceptiveness as you elbowed at Natasha’s arm to get her attention.

“Is that so?” The red-head inquired as if she hadn’t just made it a thousand times harder for the woman to sit still, “Are you getting all worked up back there, Maximoff?” Wanda was usually a patient person, it was the pleaser in her that didn’t want to push any buttons, but something was making her feel entirely impatient - an ‘i need it and i need it now’ sort of impatience.

A surprised yelp erupted in Wanda’s throat when Natasha suddenly turned the toy up much higher.

“Oh, sweetheart, I love it when you make all those pretty sounds for us.” Natasha had all of the power in this situation, even from the front seat with one hand curled around the steering wheel and the other fiddling at the toy’s wireless remote.

She didn’t have to bother taking her eyes off the road as she listened to the stuttered moans and pleads that started to fall from Wanda’s desperate lips.

“Please, daddy.” Wanda didn’t know what she was begging for but she did know that the pleasure was starting to burn deliciously in her thighs and a look of incurable hunger sparkled from your gaze as you watched her.

“Let me hear you cry for it, baby.” Natasha taunted, a wicked smirk accentuating the evil in her tone. “Let me hear how bad you wanna feel good.”

Another shuddering whimper ripped from Wanda’s throat. Her senses were overloaded and body over excited - fingers searching desperately for something to grab onto, lungs screeching for air, and the ache settled at her clit was agonizing - and she hadn’t even been touched yet.

Then Natasha mumbled, “Go on, touch yourself. I know that you know how.” and Wanda’s eyes flashed between the both of you. She was searching for something in your expressions - anything to indicate whether Natasha was joking or not.

But all she could see was the glimmer of mischievousness that accented Natasha’s, seemingly permanent, smirk and the desperation in your eyes as you tried you best to keep your hands to yourself until you had permission not to.

“Come on, mommy,” You pleaded keenly, chin propped over the back of your seat to get the perfect view of the juddering woman behind you. “I want to see you get off.” Your words only made Wanda more anxious as she clenched around the toy but she wasn’t going to take advantage of this opportunity of having explicit permission.

She hooked her fingers around her underwear and lifted her hips from the seat just enough to peel them off, preparing to discard them onto the floor until Natasha piped in, “Give.” She ordered simply, returning the remote control to her lap and extending her free hand towards the back of the car.

Wanda placed the item in the red-head’s palm, watching her fist curl around the fabric before bringing it into the front with her. “You,” Natasha grabbed your attention without so much as a glance in your direction, “You don’t have permission to do anything but sit there and look all pretty, unless I say otherwise. Understand?”

You were eager to nod, content with the orders you had been given, as Natasha’s balled up the lace piece and shoved it between your parted lips without so much as a warning. You let out a mumbled ‘hmph’ and Wanda groaned at the sight of you with her underwear gagging your words. Her hips lifted off the seat instinctively - she would have settled for anything; hands, fingers, tongue, just something.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” This must be what a reward is like - Wanda thought - as the tone in Natasha’s voice fell from mocking to something uncharacteristically soft.

Wanda pushed her skirt away and up her hips, eager fingers finding the source of her arousal and spreading her folds to feel the sharp rut of cold air against the heat of her cunt. The moan that she let out was breathy and desperate, as if screaming oh please, please, please! even as there was nothing for her to be begging for.

“Go on baby, make yourself feel good for me. Can you do that?” Natasha questioned, lips upturned in pure evil but Wanda didn’t care as her head began nodding erratically and her fingers came down to circle around her clit.

She wasn’t entirely sure where to look. Should she watch Natasha through the rear-view mirror? Did she even have the courage to meet the hunger in your gaze as you watched her? Would Natasha scold her for closing her eyes? The thoughts made her actions faulted just as Natasha looked to check up on her.

“Look at her, dove,” Natasha cooed sarcastically, “your poor, dumb mommy is so desperate she doesn’t even know how to touch herself properly.” Wanda suddenly understood the appeal of Natasha’s condescending tone and she wanted more.

You mumbled incoherently through the fabric of Wanda’s underwear and quickly looked at Natasha with apologetic eyes as she threw a quick glare in your direction. “That was not an invitation to speak.” She barked as you quickly retreated your gaze back in Wanda’s direction.

“I know you know how to touch yourself, baby.” The rate at which Natasha could change her vocal tone was astonishing, “You expect me to believe I left our bedroom window open, all those times my little dove was getting out of the shower, for nothing?” The younger woman in the backseat took a sharp intake of breath as heat flushed her face for the millionth time in a day.

She couldn’t possibly deny watching you if the blush was any indication of her own lawlessness. Just as she couldn’t deny how she had sunk into her mattress minutes after with her hand between her thighs and imagined kissing every delicate inch of your skin. And the realization that it had been purposeful - at least on Natasha’s end since you were looking at her with surprise in your darkened eyes - made a new rush of arousal coat the inside of her thighs.

She was unapologetically leaking onto the seats as she stroked at her clit. Her eyes met yours for the first time in a number of minutes, locked there and refused to look away as she stroked a sharp circle around the thousands of sensitive nerve endings.

Natasha’s eyes flickered to Wanda through the rear-view mirror, “That’s pathetic, you think you’ll get off like that?” Wanda shuddered at the harshness, “Give my dove the vibe.” Your wife commanded sternly before her eyes fell back onto the road.

Wanda reluctantly tugged the vibrator from her cunt, the feeling caused her head to fall back against the seat as she breathed a sigh of release. You took the small pink toy from Wanda’s shaky hands as you listened to her whine at the empty feeling that settled inside her.

Natasha’s hand slid over the flesh of your left thigh before falling between your legs. “I should have known your slutty pussy would be this soaked. Always so wet, dove.” You let out a choked agreement, hips shuttering towards your wife’s fingers. “Put that toy to good use.” She instructed.

Your eyes fell onto her as you teased it around your entrance before pushing it into your waiting cunt with one long stroke. The vibrations made your hips buck into the air. “Shittt.” The word drew off your tongue slowly as if you were tasting every letter, followed immediately by a chuckle of satisfaction from your wife.

Wanda sunk a finger inside her own cunt, more than determined to cum; even by her own hand. You began to squirm in your seat with just as much desperation as the brunette when you craned your hips into the air in search of something greater than the rhythmic shake Natasha had reduced the toy to. You wanted to get your hands on Wanda - to kiss her, touch her, feel her. You needed to.

“O-oh.” It was the shaky sound that drew your attention back to the backseat, its echo made it indistinguishable between a moan and a whine.

Whatever it was, it seemed to please Natasha as she tightened her hand around the steering wheel and fought the urge to take her eyes off the road. “That’s it baby, keep going.” She encouraged at the soft wet sounds of Wanda’s walls clenching around her finger. “Give yourself more.” She instructed.

Wanda’s neck rolled back in a lull, eyes squeezing shut tightly as she added another slender finger. Your gaze made Wanda’s heartbeat fire all the more rapidly, even with her eyes closed she could feel the longing radiating off of you. It was seared into your brain, you were - for lack of a better word - trained to want to help her.

And your needy groan was proof as you looked her way with clouded eyes, watching the way she got herself off and her hips bucked with determination; fucking into her own fingers.

Natasha huffed, “If you’re going to be such a greedy little cumslut then make yourself useful and go help her.” It wouldn’t ever take anymore than that for you to launch towards Wanda, settle yourself to kneel onto the floor, and eagerly spit out the underwear as you braced your hands on either of Wanda’s thighs.

“You have until we get home to get her off or you’ll be the one working not to get punished.” Natahsa established, foot pressing into the gas pedal to methodically threaten you. “Yes, daddy.” You answered obediently, wasting not another second in pressing forward and taking Wanda’s clit between your lips.

She yelped in surprise and her hips bucked against your face, your mouth licked and sucked at her like a lifeline. Your eyes found hers, fluttering eyelashes and all, to watch the way her chest heaved.

She twitched with every stroke of your tongue, fragments of moans and whines and whimpers tumbling from her throat. But Natasha was having none of it, she wasn’t going to listen to the younger woman loose control so easily. “Talk to her, Maximoff. Or I’ll make her stop.”

Wanda’s toes curled in the confinement of her heels before her hands came up to bury in your hair and tug at the roots. “Fuck, put- oh fuck.” She was trying to speak even as she was melting under the heat of your mouth, especially as she listened to the toy buzz from its confinements in your cunt which was, without doubt, dripping onto the carpeted flooring.

The taste of Wanda distracted you from your will to rut your hips into nothing. She was intoxicating - you could keep drinking and drinking at her and you don’t think you’d ever get enough.

The blissful haze that had settled between you both was interrupted when Natasha sharply hissed a ‘get off, dove’ and you fought the urge to keep going as you pulled away with a complaining whine.

Wanda sobbed then, the feeling of her orgasm retreating made her quickly bury her hands in your hair and bring you back to her cunt. “Put that - oh god - put that dirty mouth to use, baby.” It was breathy and meek but the mere attempt satisfied the red-head in the front seat. “See? How hard was that, sweetheart?”

Wanda didn’t answer, she didn’t have it in her as the coil tightened deep within her stomach and she rocked her hips into your face - the worry of seeming desperate long forgotten as her orgasm approached. “Just like that, baby, just like that. Don’t stop.” She whined, tugging roughly now as her fingers burned with the force of the squeeze she had around the locks of your hair.

Tears ran down her face as she finally came, holding your head tightly against her as her body spasmed and twitched. You took what she was willing to give, mewling at the pleasured squeals that she let out as she coated your face.

When her orgasm subsided, she let you loose and basked in the gasp of air you took into your aching lungs. Her hand hooked under your chin, pulling you up to capture your lips in a filthy kiss.

It was sloppy; flattened tongues and clashing teeth as you kissed at her mouth and she cleaned her slick from your face.

Somewhere in the haze of your intoxication, you mentally noted how Natasha had gone alarmingly quiet. When your eyes flickered to her, she was already smirking at you with an ungodly glint in her eyes. “Fell just a little over your limit, baby.”

In your deep concentration on making Wanda cum, you hadn’t noticed Natasha pull the car into the driveway or shut off the engine. And the realization of your forthcoming punishment only made the pleasure of the vibrating toy inside you heighten.

“Oh, dove, don’t look so scared. Just wait until I get my hands on you.”

[redvelvetnat]

pity the arsonist

switch!wanda x bottom!reader x top!natasha

previous part : common tongue

summary ➞ set one week after wanda’s first swing at sex with you and natasha. wanda is more than eager to get back into bed with you but she begins to fear she’ll lose that privilege if she doesn’t learn to take charge. word count : 3.6k

disclaimer ➞ 18+, strong language, smut, office/semi-public sex, fingering (r receiving), phone sex, dirty talk (praise + pet names), mommy/daddy kink, voyeurism (idk if you can really call it that but whatever)

a/n ➞ this is even less edited than my other works so i really hope they’re aren’t too many mistakes. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3 gif source wanda , natasha

Got a meeting at 9, my office at 11? <3

Wanda still had the pale yellow post-it note from you folded and shoved into her pocket as she sunk back against the, overwhelmingly comfortable, black leather armchair in your office.

As her eyes flickered curiously around the empty room, it dawned on her that she had always been too nervous around you to actually take in the dynamics of the space. Given her newfound knowledge on the interior design of your home, she could easily tell that you had decorated both spaces. They just had your taste.

The walls, for instance, were a soft grey color that contrasted against the deep black marble flooring which stretched the expanse of the building. There was a large wall of windows directly behind your desk doing an excellent job at allowing the afternoon sun to bathe the room in a soft light.

Or maybe that was just your scent lingering that clouded her senses and filled her brain with nothing but you.

She heard you before she could actually see you. The distinct sound of your heels escorted the silence that had suddenly fallen over the entire top floor - as if every individual employee were too afraid they’d be fired if they even breathed loud enough.

Wanda briefly wondered what they would think if they had gotten the chance to see you the way she had; sunk onto your knees with submission written into the depths your irises.

Would they still be so scared of you if they had seen the way you squirmed and whined and begged? If they had heard the filthy way Natasha talked to you - and the pathetic way you got off on it?

The door closed somewhere behind her and the tension in her shoulder blades started to melt away, even more so when she felt your hand brush down the curve of her bicep.

“Remind me, the next time Tony Stark wants to meet with me, to send someone who can stomach listening to him talk about himself for two whole hours.” You suggested sarcastically in a low voice as your head fell to press a kiss to the skin just behind her ear.

“The only person who can stand listening to Mr. Stark talk is Mr. Stark.” Her assessment made you laugh, stacking the papers from your hand into a neat pile at the corner of your desk. “You’re right about that.”

She studied you as you moved towards the other side of the furniture, all but collapsing tiredly into the large office chair that - if you asked Wanda - you looked entirely too delicious perched in; seething with a power that most people could only dream to possess.

Your eyes met hers in the following moments and a smile pressed onto your lips, “I missed you this morning.” Wanda fought the blush that threatened to redden her cheeks as she breathed a, slightly embarrassed, ‘missed you too’ into the air.

It’s not that she hadn’t wanted to wake up with you - all she thought about these days was waking up with you and Natasha by her side - but the inner battle to shed away the innocence that still barricaded inside her chest had gotten the better of her the last couple of nights.

When she was alone in her house, swimming in a pool of her own pitiful thoughts, she couldn’t help but be angry with herself. She wanted to do it - take control of you the same way she had watched Natasha do, fuck you with the same confidence and power that Natasha had.

But she wasn’t Natasha.

She had never taken control of anyone.

She still blushed when she caught you looking at her as you passed each other in the hallway. When she met Natasha’s eyes on the way to the mailbox in the evenings, her ears went hot at the smug wink and smirk the red-head sent in her direction.

Your voice broke the spiral of thoughts tumbling around in her mind, “Nat isn’t as grumpy in the mornings when you’re there.” It was a lighthearted joke, very obviously. But the moment the words left your lips, there was no stopping the blood that instantly rushed her cheeks and it was absolutely futile to try and bite back the smile that followed soon after.

A soft silence fell between the two of you then, but it was far from uncomfortable as Wanda watched you work from the laptop in front of you. She thought about what to do next - the wheels in her head turning with a plethora of things to say or do, if she could manage actually finding the courage to.

“You’re thinking too hard.” You announced matter-of-factly without bothering to tear your attention away from the computer or cease typing away at the keys. A huff of agreement fell from her lips and then it was quiet again.

“You don’t have to always be nervous around me. Or Natasha. Clearly, we only bite when you want us to.” The joke did do the job of easing her down the cliff, especially as your own smile widened and you sent a glance in her direction. “We may be intense people but we’re not going to hurt you.” Your eyes were soft with sincerity.

She didn’t say anything in return, nothing even bothered to form at the tip of her tongue. After watching her chew anxiously at her bottom lip for a few short seconds, you shook your head and rose to your feet.

She watched attentively as you ambled towards her your heels echoed against the floor like music to her ears. Your smile never faltered, even as you planted yourself atop of the desk.

Her eyes flickered shamelessly to where your skirt rode up your thighs and immediately shot back up to meet your amused expression. She would have been completely embarrassed, but that was no use.

The diversion of her attention caused you to cock a single eyebrow as you motioned for her to stand, “Come here.” On shaky legs, she rose to her feet and shuffled towards you until she was situated directly between your parted knees.

“I mean it, Wanda.” The sound of her name rolling so pointedly off your tongue only made her legs weaker and she braced her hands against the edge of the desk to keep herself upright.

Your fingers moved to her wrists, guiding her to press her open palms against either of your thighs, “Relax.”

You could see the hesitation flash in her eyes, fading away just as quiet before she heaved towards you and caught your lips. The surprised squeak that pushed from your throat vibrated against her lips, your hands flying up to cup her cheeks.

As if trying to catch you off guard, her tongue drew a soft strike against your bottom lip and you welcomed her to delve into your mouth with delirium.

Her hands tightened tentatively around your thighs, squeezing the flesh between slender fingers and forcing the fabric of your skirt towards your hips. The metal of her rings were cold and surely leaving crescent shaped indents in your skin.

Her eyes were dark when she pulled away, breath entangling with yours in the space between you both as you looked at each other without a single word.

You didn’t need to question what she was asking in her head as her eyes darted between yours and her neck twitched forward hopefully - keep going?

You nodded a silent encouragement as you watched her brain work overtime to decide whether that had been her cue to continue.

You slid your hands to the back of her head and tangled your fingers in the brunette locks at the base of her skull, just in time for her lips to find yours again; much more rushed and eager now.

You could feel her straighten against you as she regained some of the strength in her legs which she used to push yours further open and step closer.

You were prepared to take the lead, without Natasha there you figured someone would have to, but her nails began to rake against the inside of your thighs and you decided to let her explore what she was capable of doing on her own.

You hummed a soft ‘Yeah, just like that, Wanda’, and she took a moment to bask in the praise before brushing her tongue against yours and using your gasp as an excuse to move her lips down to your neck.

A shuttered moan echoed into the room, your own throat seemed surprised by the sound and you became embarrassingly glad that Natasha had convinced you to sound-proof the walls back when you first started dating. It was your turn to blush, Wanda catching the heat in your cheeks for the first time.

You looked entirely beautiful underneath her, she thought; all flushed as she watched the power dissipate from your demeanor. You were growing desperate, giving into her and she was lapping it up without a second thought.

“I’m not as weak as you think I am.” Wanda finally hissed, certainly a sharp tone for her but still a gentleness lingering somewhere behind it. She was scared to overstep, to come off wrong without the proper taunt on her voice that Natasha had.

Her teeth sunk into the skin of your collarbone and surely left a mark you’d have to half-heartedly scold her for later. But neither of you cared very much as your breathy laugh accompanied a teasing ‘then prove it’.

Of course, you didn’t actually think that she was weak - if the younger woman had taught you anything since you had hired her it was to know better than underestimate her abilities. But the opportunity was presenting itself and you were certainly going to milk whatever confidence-high she was riding for as long as you could.

She finally found it in her to brush her knuckle against the fabric of your underwear, just hard enough for you to feel the digit against your, already aching, clit.

Your head fell back, a hand leaving her neck to brace yourself against the glass surface of the desk, as she continued her eager assault down your chest. Bite marks and purple-red bruises followed her lips.

Just as her finger curled around the band of your underwear, the ring of the office phone shattered the delicate bubble the two of you had created around yourselves.

“Fucking hell.” You huffed frustratedly, pulling away to meet Wanda’s blown-out pupils as she looked up at you through her eyelashes.

Her hand begun to retreat warily from between your thighs and you quickly grabbed her wrist, urging her to continue with pleading eyes that could only be screaming please, please, please, don’t stop.

Wanda’s eyes glinted with uncertainty - but how could she deny you when you were looking at her so desperately as if she was solely responsible for the fate of your universe?

Her hands creeped up your thighs, circled around the band of your underwear, and began to guide the lacy fabric straight down the length of your legs.

Her chest filled with pride as her eyes skimmed over the wet spot in the middle of the fabric; coaxing flashbacks of the same prideful feeling that warmed her chest as she had helped Natasha fuck you nights ago.

The hand that wasn’t holding yourself up against the desk fell reluctantly and extended towards the phone, curling your fist around it and lifting it towards your ear.

“Romanoff.” You announced, heart hammering in your chest as all you could do was hope you sounded composed.

Wanda pressed her fingers to your entrance and gathered your slick on three fingers. In a surge of confidence and pure adrenaline, she locked her eyes onto yours and lifted her fingers to her lips before greedily sucking them clean.

Your teeth sinking into your bottom lip was the only line of defense between sounding out-of-breath at most and moaning straight into the phone.

“Oh, don’t sound so professional, doll.” Your eyes shot towards the phone at the sound of your wife’s voice, her number rolling across the small screen on the receiver.

The tension melted from your shoulders as Wanda returned her hand between your thighs, a single finger pushing into your cunt as far as she could and curling with intention - calculated.

Your hips craned towards her, a broken ‘b-baby’ falling somewhere between a breathy moan and a whispered calling to the red-head on the other end of the phone. You could practically hear the smirk that grew on Natasha’s lips then, imagining the way she likely leaned back in her own office chair at home and proper her feet up on the desk.

Wanda’s finger curled again against your eagerly contracting walls, the sound of your ever-growing arousal was surely audible enough for your wife to hear from where she was.

Natasha’s voice was much darker when she spoke next, “You know I love that sound of that, baby.” If you had to guess, you would have assumed that her eyes were just as dark and clouded as the ones Wanda peered up at you with.

A shuttered whimper was all your wife received in return as another ardent finger was added to aid Wanda’s ministrations inside you.

“Such pretty sounds, dove.” Natasha sung, “You by yourself in there or has my brilliant little protégé finally taken some initiative?” You would have laughed if it hadn’t have been for Wanda’s palm grinding against your clit and your continually dwindling composure. A pleasured hiss forced itself between your gritted teeth as your head fell onto the brunette’s shoulder.

“Wanda, fuck.”

Natasha laughed, loud enough for Wanda to hear. “I guess that answers that, doesn’t it?” The phone tumbled from your hands and clattered onto the desk, just in time for you to catch yourself from slipping backwards.

Wanda’s fingers sped up, hungry-looking eyes watching you closely as you ground your hips so desperately against her palm.

Blindly, your hand fumbled for the dialer and transferred the call onto speaker before quickly shooting forward and tangling into its rightful place in the back of Wanda’s head.

“So good for me.” Wanda finally mumbled, even as she feared that her sudden courage would break her strict concentration.

“Oh, I see.” Natasha stated, all signs of a smirk leaking from her voice. “Let me guess, she’s got you pinned against that gorgeous desk of yours with one of those perfect hands between your pretty thighs?” She knew what she was doing, further igniting the need in your chest.

She always knew how to add fuel to the fire.

It was only a defeated yelp but it said enough to answer her question, your hips desperately pushing forward for more, more, more; which Wanda was happy to give.

“Is she being good for you, Maximoff? Don’t you dare let her be a brat.”

Wanda groaned at your wife’s tone, quickly following up with, “So good, so fucking good.” The praise made your heart beat impossibly faster. “Want more!” You squealed as Wanda’s teeth sunk into your shoulder.

“Now that’s not how you ask for something, dove.” Natasha’s voice was harsh, something she figured Wanda wouldn’t have the heart to do yet.

But Wanda surprised all three of you as her free hand left it’s place on your thigh and gripped tightly your chin to force you to look at her, “Say ‘please’.” She demanded, the strictness in her voice yanking a pleading moan from your chest.

You were far worse than anything the word ‘needy’ could describe; on the verge of falling apart underneath the younger woman and too fucked-out to care about composure when a thousand variations is please, Wanda, please give me more! started raining from your tongue so fast they became nearly incoherent babbles.

Wanda, satisfied with the dynamic that had settled between the two of you, complied to your wishes and sunk a third finger into your cunt. You welcomed the newest intrusion, hungrily clenching around all of her fingers as your throat contracted with another loud moan.

“Mommy!” It startled Wanda, her fingers faltering for a fraction of a second before quickly working into you again at a speed you weren’t entirely sure was human. “Oh,” Natasha laughed wickedly, “Now the real fun begins.”

Wanda’s fingers curled and twisted as if she knew your body. Just when you thought you couldn’t get any more surprised at her sudden dominance, the hand from your chin fell to wrap around your throat and squeezed at either side.

“Oh, my little dove, you sound so messy.” Natasha’s comment only made you more and more desperate to cum, bucking wildly against Wanda’s hand with little regard to how outright pathetic you must have looked.

“I’m so fucking close.” Your high-pitched plead was shattered by a needy whine, one that burned in the back of your throat.

Wanda spoke up quickly, “Ask daddy if you can cum.” It was a shot in the dark, for her to even assume you called Natasha that. But her demand made your eyes fall onto her own so, even as the words tasted unfamiliar on her tongue, the glint in your eye made it worth sticking her neck out.

“Go ahead, ask her all pretty like I know you know how.”

You shuttered, bracing a hand against her shoulder as your nails curled into the delicate skin. “Daddy, please!” You gasped, “Please, please! I’ll be so good! I promise I’ll be good. Please just let me cum!”

This is what she wanted, to have complete power over you as you did nothing but take. With her fingers working inside your cunt as if she’d always be the only thing standing between you and pure bliss, there was no time for you to think. No time for strategy or counter.

On the other end of the call, it was silent for a moment, as if Natasha was very seriously contemplating her answer before a satisfied hum rang out, “Fine. But you better make it real good, dove, for playing without me.”

She sounded upset, and Wanda probably thought she was as her fingers slowed down ever so slightly, but you knew your wife better than that. She was extremely proud of Wanda’s growing desire to please you.

Your hand fell and circled around Wanda’s wrist again, urging her to keep going and go fast. Her hand sped up again; fingers pressing into that spot inside you that made your entire body twitch with need, the other tightening around your throat as you gasped for breath.

You let out a loud wail as you came, fist enclosing impossibly tighter around Wanda’s forearm and head doubling back so fast that the blood began to rush through your ears.

The sound of Wanda’s name bounced off the walls, accompanied by her praises of, “You’re so good, making Mommy so proud, baby.”

You latched your lips onto hers, desperate to ground yourself back into the world of feeling. It was a hasty kiss, rushed and sloppy as Wanda’s fingers collected the drool that dribble down your chin before pushing her fingers into your inviting mouth.

You whined around her fingers, shuttering away from her as the feeling became overwhelming. Her fingers slowed to a stop and rested inside your cunt for a moment as you clenched around them.

Most of the encouraging praises from Natasha sounded no more than radio static on your overdriven ears. You did catch the rewarding ‘good job, my dove’ that she hummed as the excitement subsided and the room fell into a chorus of heavy breathing and the occasional involuntary whimper as Wanda retracted her fingers completely and licked them clean.

Natasha let the both of you unwind for a moment, listening to the sound of your breathing evening out in sync before she spoke, “Wanda, I expect to see you tonight. It sounds like a reward is in order.” An excited shiver fell down Wanda’s spine.

“Yes ma’am.” The word made Natasha scoff playfully, “Oh don’t pull that shit with me now, what did I tell you?”

“Sorry, Nat.” Wanda corrected herself with a blush.

“Now do me a favor, sweetheart. Take that pretty little lace piece you’ve got laying on the floor and keep it safe for me, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes at your wife’s antics as Wanda bent down and scooped your underwear into her hands before tucking them into the same pocket as her beloved post-it note.

It took her a moment before her face scrunched in confusion, glancing down at where your underwear resided in her pocket and then shooting up to meet your eyes, “How did she know…?”

A giggle fell from your lips, your hand coming up to point into the top corner of the room. She followed with her eyes, until they landed on a camera hanging from the ceiling. She looked back at you then, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“What?” You started, cheeky grin playing on your lips, “This is one of my favorite places to play.”

[redvelvetnat]

blurb idea: Natasha is your momsbestfriend teaching you the wonderful pleasure of tribbing

guess who’s coming to dinner

mom’s best friend!natasha x reader blurb

summary ➞ it’s literally just sex in a pool house, enjoy

disclaimer ➞ 18+, strong language, significant age gap (r = 20s, nat = 40s), smut, tribbing, dirty talk (praise + degradation + pet names), almost being caught, orgasm denial (?)

a/n ➞ i was writing angst and hurt my own feelings, so i wrote this + didn’t bother editing it as a form of self care. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3

Wet skin met the smoothed-over ceramic floor, evidence of the swim you had taken and the thin layer of sweat that had worked already worked it’s way onto your flesh.

In a fury of hungry kisses and wandering hands, Natasha had haphazardly pulled your bikini top up towards your collarbone and left the matching bottoms to hang from one of your ankles.

She payed little mind to the way your body slid across the titles, bracing one hand against the darkened grey wall behind your head to corner you between it and her own dampened body. With her other hand, she held your hip in place so that she could freely rock her cunt against your own.

She was entirely entangled into you, now, a disarray of lips and tongues and naked skin. It was becoming harder and harder to tell your limbs apart from hers - not that either of you cared too much about locating where one of you ended and the other began.

Her gaze was heavy as she watched the pure delight begin to glint in the soft edges of your features. “Oh, don’t give me those eyes, dove.” The muscles in her legs flexed excitedly when she said it.

“What’s wrong with my eyes, Ms. Romanoff?” You knew what you were doing - and she knew that you knew - watching the shiver that rolled down her spine at the formality in your words. Enjoyment etched itself into her features but she was entirely aware that you were teasing her.

Whatever sounds managed to dislodge from your lips were only swallowed by Natasha’s, including the involuntary giggle that rumbled from your chest when her swimsuit cover brushed against the skin of your stomach.

A series of whimpers followed when her knee moved to pin you impossibly closer to the floor. “Those are - shit - those are ‘fuck me?’ eyes.” She panted as her head lulled back.

You started to curl your tongue around a devilishly sarcastic ‘how fitting’ but the words were lost somewhere in the back of your throat and replaced with a vulgar moan.

She smirked at the sound, “What was that? I’m sorry, dove, I can’t hear you over all those desperate, pathetic noises.” She quipped, hand tightening around the edge of the wall.

Pleasure sparked up through your belly as her clit lashed against yours. She was greedy in her movements, mostly worried about chasing her own pleasure - which only just so happened to be your pleasure as well.

“You gonna cum for me, pretty baby?” She questioned, finally closing what little gap there was between the two of you to delve her tongue into your mouth in a messy kiss. You nodded, frantic and desperate, before tangling your hands in the back of her hair.

“Vision, sweetheart? Do you know where Natasha ran off to? I found this bottle of sauvignon blanc downstairs and I was going to open it with her.”

Natasha’s hand fell to your mouth, muffling the surprised gasp that tumbled from your lips as your mother’s voice echoed from the backyard. You met her eyes frantically as her hips slowed their movements to a stop.

“I think she went to the restroom, darling.” Your father answered from somewhere nearby.

Natasha detached herself from you completely, a smirk spreading across her face as her hand absorbed the sound of your protesting whine.

“Later, dove.” She assured as she replaced her hand with her lips and tugged her bikini bottoms back up her toned legs, “I promise I’ll make you cum later.”