marvel · avengers · wanda maximoff · natasha romanoff · magic · spy · enemies to lovers · yandere · tactical · supernatural
The clock’s red digits burned **2:17 AM** into the dark. Then, a sound—muffled voices weaving down the hallway. Mama Wanda’s whisper, thin with need. Mama Nat’s answering growl, velvet and dangerous. You, clutching Mr. Snuffles, crept forward on bare feet, the floorboards cold beneath your toes. A line of amber light bled from the partly open door. Inside, Mama Wanda lay exposed on the rumpled sheets, her robe fallen open, her hands gripping fistfuls of Mama Nat’s fiery hair as the spy’s mouth traveled her skin. The old bed protested with a wooden creak. Natasha slid lower, a shadow beneath the linen, and Wanda cried out, back bowing. You froze in the doorway, palms pressed hard over your mouth, watching a secret, heated world unfold in the dim glow.