—wandanat x fem/afab!reader
༺ tw || SMUT MDNI, discussion on kinks/titles/roles (but not detailed), exhibition & choking kink mentioned, dom/sub dynamic, dom!wandanat & sub!reader, top!wandanat & bottom!reader, R gets needy from a wet dream, oral&fingering (r receiving | n giving), reader is described to be wearing a nightgown, reader is described to be shy, not proofread
༺ a/n || I’ve never personally been in a dom/sub relationship, so if I get things wrong that’s why! If you’re getting into one— don’t use this as a guide/reference
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A buzz raps against your bedside table, the sound officially pulling you out of your morning stir. With bleary eyes, you reach across the bed to pull your phone off the charger. The movement brings you out of the warmth and comfort your sheets provide, hence making you shiver once your arm hits the cold air surrounding your room.
After pulling the phone under the covers you shut the alarm off, unlocking it to view the notifications sent since you’ve fallen asleep.
The door creeks open, whoever opening it trying to be quiet but the door’s old age didn’t allow them to do so. Your roommate peeks her head in, eyes landing on your curled position in bed.
“My word it’s freezing in here,” she starts, moving out of the doorframe to check the thermostat, “if I woke you up, I am so sorry—I was going to call maintenance to check in on your room, wanted to come see if it was still freezing.”
As if on cue you shiver again, pulling the blanket higher until it brushes your chin, “it is.”
A grim expression comes into her face, she apologizes again, “I’ll call them now. They should be here tonight.”
You voice your appreciation, staying under the sheets until the numbers on your clock read noon. It was a lazy morning, all movements were slow and relaxed. The shower was turned until steam came off the top, the burning feeling decidedly better than the chill running throughout your entire body.
There were plans written on your phone’s calendar, the moment tonight a result from the events from the previous week. There had been more plans since three first meeting at the cafe, each moment spent together better than the last. Since the cafe, they’ve met you wherever it was that you’d like.
Whether it be at a bookstore, where the two whispered reassurances over your fretting on them paying for your books. Even at times when you three had colliding schedules they still made an effort, it showed in how they took a walk with you by the water. The ocean was rough, waves crashing and pushing against another, but the sound it made was entirely peaceful. You remember where your walk ended, where you three stopped so you could watch the water stretch and collide with the orange and pink sky.
Wanda had whispered close to your ear, body leaned so close to yours, chest pushed up against your back. You had welcomed the advances from her, letting the motion also push you into Natasha until you three were cuddled up together. It brought a smile to your face to experience such a moment. It was when you decided it was best to share the news about signing off of the paper work on Tuesday. This all transpired a day ago on Sunday, meaning that discussion was happening tonight.
Remembering that this event is what you were getting ready for brought a multitude of emotions to run about. Any word within the synonym group to embarrassed and excitement would be hitting the mark on what you were feeling.
You’ve been keeping your friend in the loop, sending her text updates often and feeling thankful for her support. Shes aware of what’s transpiring tonight, her contact information appearing in your phone as you were finishing getting ready.
“You know, your mind doesn’t really know the difference between fear and excitement. So I suggest convincing yourself that you’re only excited.”
“I think I’d only be successful in telling it how scared I am,” you say as you shut your drawer, “because I really can only see how this will affect me negatively.”
There’s a pause in the conversation as you throw on a shirt, “I mean, we’re going to be talking about what I’m interested in doing intimately. What if they find me weird, or they don’t want to do what I’d like to do and get rid of me?”
“First I’ll say that all you’re feeling is valid. Second, you’re being too harsh on yourself. This past week you’ve been getting to know each other, and going off of how you’ve been rambling to me after, I’d say they’re going well. Let tonight play out, be in the moment.”
You hum your response, sitting beside your phone to slip your shoes on, “okay.”
“I’ve known them like what—like two years now? They’re going to work with you, not against you. But if at any point you feel uncomfortable, you’re always free to leave whenever and call me, or security. Your wellbeing comes first.”
Three beeping sounds emit after, your lock screen appearing. There were four numbers glaring back at you, eliciting a response to start walking towards their apartment complex.
The map on your phone was confusing, stating that their location was to the left of you when it was across the street.
Natasha stood at the entrance, holding the door for you to step in. The inside was simple, light blue wallpaper lining the walls. You’ve become awkward, the feeling instigate by the nerves spiking being along with her. She lets you go through the second door first after unlocking it, letting the heavier door swing close behind her, “How was your walk?“
“Cold. It’s rather chilly today.”
Natasha walks in front to lead you up the staircase, “not a fan of the cold?”
“No, I much prefer the 70s, the mix between cold and hot.”
Three staircases later and the numbers 302 are staring back at you. Their door has a wreath outside, one decorated with red florals. Wanda comes to greet the door, letting the both of you in, even moving to hang your coat.
“Glad you got here safely,” she starts, “it gets dark so soon now that we’re rolling into winter.”
You’re entirely too thankful that they’ve begun to tell you where you can go and what you can do. They’ve opened up their home to you, but even then you weren’t sure if it was okay to sit down on the couch yet.
“Would you like a drink? I have water, tea?”
“Oh that’s alright, I’ll be fine.”
She pats your shoulder, “it’s alright if you’d like one, I’m offering.”
She smiles, moving into the kitchen after. Natasha had sat across from you on another couch, laptop settled on her lap. It gave you a moment to look around, to take in their home for the first time. It was a combination of clean and messy. They had papers thrown over the cushioned footrest, shoes set carefully by the door. A pair of broken glasses were set on the tv mantle, and a tall vase beside it with tulips. Wanda comes in, setting the hot cup on the table in front of you.
“Do you like the flowers,” she asks, noticing where your gaze was transfixed, “natasha got them from a coworker.”
Natasha looks up from her laptop momentarily, meeting Wanda’s gaze. She speaks up, “I got asked out.”
“Oh,” you say, “at least you got nice flowers.”
Wanda laughs at the way Natasha squirms, “yeah, nice flowers. Do you need anything else?”
You shake your head, waving her off. She leaves again momentarily, the item appearing in her hand that makes you nervous again. The papers.
It was a conversation you wanted to have, you all wanted to have, but the discussion of such intimate acts felt more embarrassing than acting them out. They notice the way you’ve begun to look away, focus set outside the window.
You notice Natasha setting her MacBook away in your peripheral vision.
“Kitten,” Natasha starts, the new nickname rolling off of her lips instantly catching your attention, “are you okay with that?”
You appreciate her asking, the way her tone went soft after witnessing your reaction. It wasn’t unpleasant, it held the complete opposite reaction. The action of you nodding yet again has her speaking up, “words.”
Natasha smiles at you, the sight easing your nerves. Wanda’s knee lands on the edge of the couch, leaning her body onto it until she’s sitting down.
“You sent these to us a day ago and we’ve reviewed it all, signed our parts as well. We’ll have those papers in my office if you ever want or need to view them while you’re over here,” she explains, setting a few pages down, “how’re you feeling about the next few?”
“That’s alright. Tell if if you need to stop, okay?”
She’s begun to list them off, each one bringing a tinge of red to your cheeks. Your hand has come to fidget with your necklace, agreeing with the statements Wanda was reading off.
“It’s quite funny how most everything lines up with our responses.”
She hums, handing the papers over to Natasha, “you’re interested in all of the kinks we’re interested in, like your exhibition and choking one.”
“Wow,” you say, fingers tugging at your necklace, pulling it until the chain can’t be moved any further out.
“Did that make you nervous just now?”
Natasha asks, noticing the habit of fidgeting with a necklace arising any time a difficult situation arose. You let go of it, moving to hold the warm glass, the scent of the chamomile tea rushing to you.
“It did, but that’s only because I don’t like direct conversations. I’m better when things play out and you’re lost in the moment, but I understand this needs to be talked about.”
“We can call it a night then. If you’d like you can stay over, whatever you’d like. Please let us order an Uber though if you decide to go home, Natasha was having a fit about you walking home the other day.”
Wanda throws a look at Natasha, pressing a kiss to your head as she walks by. Natasha takes the jab, grabbing at her computer again, “and I won’t apologize for that.“
“If I were to stay tonight, where would I sleep?”
“With us,” Wanda says from the other room, “you’re not sleeping on these couches and certainly not the ground—unless you’d like to.”
“Could I stay over then?”
Wanda laughs, “you’re so sweet, of course you can. You can borrow either of our clothes, world knows how uncomfortable it is to sleep in jeans.”
Natasha shows you to the bathroom, clicking on the light so she can set the pajamas you had picked out on the counter. It was small, but larger than the one you had back with your roommates. It smelled like them, their scents overwhelming your senses when you walked in.
“The shower handles weird to use, so I’ll start that for you. I’ll leave the door unlocked just in case, okay?”
The knobs were weird. There were three of them, one for hot water, cold water, and the third to turn the pressure to come from the lower or higher nozzle. You’re thankful for her to figure it out, setting it where it was perfect. The first temperature was entirely too cold, apparently the temperature Natasha showers with in the morning.
She let you be, shutting the door and leaving you alone. All the options you had for soap were theirs. The bottles read “vanilla,” explaining why their scent was sweet. You shivered when the cold air hit, missing the warmth the water provided. The nightgown you chose was comfortable, the silk fabric to blame for that.
Wanda was still in the living room, a lamp on beside her. The room beside her had the light turned on, rustling coming from inside.
“I couldn’t figure out how to turn off the shower, I’m sorry.”
Wanda sets the book down, moving past you, “you’re too kind, don’t worry about that. You can wait with Natasha, she’s already in the room.”
You assume the room with the light on is their bedroom. Natasha was leaning on the side, feet kicked off the side of the bed. She closed the drawer, sitting further back on the bed. You grow nervous again, standing in the doorway awkwardly.
“What’re you thinking about?”
“When will of it will start?”
“Whenever you’d like it to.”
A deep breath comes from you, your finger playing with the edge of your dress, “could we start tonight?”
“What’d you say? Speak a bit louder.”
“Could we start tonight? Start small?”
Her body relaxes, gesturing for you to come closer. There’s a slight tickling sensation as her hand brushes against the back of your thigh, lifting you to straddle her waist.
“You don’t have to do anything. Just relax and only speak if we ask you.”
It’s not difficult to listen to her when her hand brushes against your back in such a manner. Wanda wonders in later, taking to Natasha about something but it all became background noise. It almost lulls you to sleep, your mind on the cusp of falling into the dream world until Natasha had patted your leg.
“We’re turning the lights off, can you lay down for me?”
You rest between them, your back against Natasha’s. Wanda faces you, her hands brushing gently against your cheek. It only took a second for Natasha to begin snoring, her deep breaths hitting your back, making you scoot closer into Wanda.
“She bothering you? If we need to, I can make her sleep on the couch.”
“Oh no that’s alright, I like her here.”
Wanda smiles, leaning to press a kiss to your lips, “me too. Now sleep, it’s late.”
You adjust, finding the most comfortable spot to be resting your face under hers.
It’s driving you crazy, feeling her hands rub all over you but not where you need it the most. She’s been kissing you breathlessly, all on purpose so she can hear your shaky gasps of air.
“Please,” you beg, pushing your hips up, “touch me.”
You grab her hand, leaving it resting over your clothed cunt, “here please, I need it so bad.”
Her fingers push your underwear aside, not giving you any warning as she pushes one in, “you’re soaked.”
A whine tumbles from you, hands gripping tighter onto her wrist, “more, not enough.”
She listens, pressing another in, the stretch making you whine louder. You beg each time, grinding down onto her fingers. Each thrust pulling a, ‘more,’ from you, stating how you can take it.
“Does it feel good, kitten? You’re gripping my fingers.”
You gasp, eyes shooting open to find Natasha above you. She’s leaning over, using her hand by your head to balance herself. Her other hand was on your shoulder, presumably used to shake you awake.
“Are you alright? You were mumbling and moving around, I wanted to make sure you weren’t having a bad—“
You clamber back, twisting your body away from hers, “nevermind.”
“No, tell me what you just said.”
It was quieter than the first time you said it but Natasha heard it.
“Remember the safe word colors we talked about, I want you to use those, okay?”
Her fingers hold your chin, moving you so you make eye contact with her, “use your words and look me in the eyes.”
“Okay,” you say, voice airy.
The moment she’s leaning down to kiss you, you’re reaching for more. She’s meeting you where you’re at, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. The sounds you make drive her crazy, they’re intoxicating. Her lips move down to your neck, biting at your collarbones to make you gasp.
“Such a needy little thing,” she mouths, pulling your dress down to press a kiss to your nipple, “who knew you’d be so adorable.”
It’s the bare minimum and almost unreasonable for you to be so weak from it, but it’s her. The reason why you’re so reactive and wanting is because you want to feel her touch.
“Oh Natasha please,” you whine, grinding your hips down onto her clothed thigh. Natasha eyes the movement, groaning when she sees the wet patch you’ve left behind.
“Call me by my name and I’ll give you what you want.”
Your back is pushed into the pillows when she lifts your hips to slide your underwear completely off. You move to take off the dress but she stops you, “leave it on, you look beautiful.”
You really do, and she wishes you could see what she does. The strap handing off your shoulder, the bottom of it pooled around your waist. You moan so loud Natasha worries the neighbors might hear when her tongue licks up your folds.
“Shh,” she presses a kiss to your inner thigh, “be quiet.”
You try, the hand over your mouth your best attempt at keeping quiet. It becomes difficult to with how good she eats you out that you have to bite down on your fist. She praises you, telling you how good you listen to her.
You keen when she presses a finger in, the size of her fingers spreading you more than your dream had. Her hands on gripping your thighs open, amused at how shaky they get once she’s begun to thrust her finger in.
“Ah—! Not enough, please I need more.”
She’s compliant, already pushing another in and oh her view was heavenly. Your back arching, hips pushing onto her fingers. It’s a sight that almost makes her moan. Her own thighs grow wet seeing how you’re squirming from her ministrations. The moment she’s pushing another in, you’re already begging her to
“Fuck, you’re so sensitive.“
Her fingers are rough, pushing against your walls and angling them in a way that drives you closer to the edge. Her name is tumbling from your lips repeatedly like it’s all you know what to say.
“Don’t come without asking me,” she warns.
“Please let me come,” you gasp.
“Please daddy,” you moan into your hand, “I’ll be good for you.”
“I know. I know you will. Go ahead.”
Her mouth latches onto your clit again, the stimulation being what you needed to reach your high. You pant, lungs heaving to get in air after. A smile making its way onto your face when Natasha slides up the bed to kiss your forehead.
“She did,” Wanda agrees from her position by the door, “I’m so proud.”
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