Wandanat/ Scarletwidow oneshots

Fire and Dreams ( Pistols And Revolvers part 2 )

TW: R4pe, Violent fantasies, dissacosiation, mentions of physical abuse, verbal abuse, overall dark themes.

Wanda loved her girlfriend.

Fire and intensity.

Action and explosions.

Smoke and guns.

Suduction and tormemt

Firey locks and emerald eyes that sparkle in delight and malice.

Soft crimson lips and sinfull curves.

She was the let's walk in there with a stick of dynamite and see what happens! Type of girl.

Every second with her was packed with excitement.

And pistols.

Natasha loved ger guns.

She even kissed them sometimes.

Wanda loved her intensity.

She loved how protective she was of her.

She loved that hypersexual Russian with all her soul.

She remembered when they first met.

It feels like a dream.

Or maybe everything since then does.

All she knows is that they finally killed the nightmares that plauged them.

"Are you Wanda Maximoff?" The voice caused the Sokovian to snap her head up, only to be met with the most perfect eyes she had ever seen.

She soon realized who they belonged to.

Natasha Romanoff.

People gave her many names; ' The quiet kid ' ' The emo' ' That sociopath'  ' Crazy bitch' ' Surprisingly, smash' and many, many more.

She bit her lips and nodded slowly.

" The teacher assigned me to work with you." The redhead stated matter of factly.

There was something about this girl that left Wanda spellbound.

" She said you could help me with algebra." She alaberated.

" Right! Of course!" The Sokovian broke free of her mind's emerald prisons to grin.

The redhead took a second to scan the brunette's body, letting her eyes trail every curve and dip shamelessly, eyes widening by the second as she took in the girl in front of her.

Long, soft auburn hair that glowed red in the sunlight.

Soft lips that seemed too akin to a black hole to be around.

Bright eyes that sparkled with something the Russian knew all too well.

Her breasts so soft and perfect they seemed to draw her in, everything in her brain screaming at her to touch them, to caress them, to squeeze them, to smush her face into them.

Her hips were perfectly curved, leaving the Russian almost drooling as she continued down long, muscular legs, and then bringing her eyes back up to meet crinsom cheeks, and eyes that followed her gaze.

Natasha knew she should be praying to this goddess right now, however her moter functions were quite impaired as her brain attempted to reboot.

At least she hadn't fallen to the ground.

She silently thanked Sappho for that.

As her brain was restored, and logic returned to her mental wasteland of Wanda's body, she cleared her throat, regaining her composure.