melancholymaz - Tumblr blog

melancholymaz · 2 years

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someone love me like this please :)

retrouvailles || lawyer!natasha romanoff

summary: your ex fiancé has now helped you secure a divorce from your now ex-wife, maria. natasha needs to work up the courage and decide if reaching back out to you is worth it.

pairing: laywer!nat x woc!femme!musician!reader

words: 7.6k

warnings/themes: sexual themes throughout, minors dni, 18+ only. lots, and i mean LOTS of angst in this one folks. fluffy ending, talks/mentions of divorces and break ups, mentions of emotional neglect, hella apologies in advance for the v catholic / religious comparisons and mentions (they were very unintentional i promise :') ) , mentions of couple's therapy, did i mention the smut? it's very aggressive and emotional, use of a strap on, breeding kink, heavy use of pet names, i'm rusty at writing wlw smut so pls don't hate it entirely :'), also not that familiar with strap ons so i tried my best.

note no.1: this is a follow up to this ask sent by @cap-n-stuff about lawyer!nat helping reader not be married anymore. this oneshot could be read as a standalone but if you want a little more context i'd suggest reading that first.

note no.2: thanks so much to @xbuchananbarnes and @caroldantops for reading this over for me, i super appreciate y'all. and thank you to @cap-n-stuff for planting the idea of lawyer nat in my mind <3

Your life after divorcing Maria Hill was something that should’ve brought you closure, and in a way, it did. While part of her didn’t want to let you go (both because of appearances and a part of her did genuinely care for you), seeing who you had as a lawyer made her realize she had a losing battle.

Maria let you have whatever you wanted and whatever you needed while negotiating the terms of dissolving your marriage to her in every aspect.

And while her own lawyer was not a big fan of this considering the amount of assets she had, one stern look at them reminded them that giving you what you needed was not to be impeded with.

So, several months later, you were officially a free woman. No more Mrs. Hill, no more cabochon cut sapphire ring. That had gone to Sotheby’s to raise money for charity. You didn’t need it nor want it anymore. The home you shared, and nearly everything you accumulated with Maria was also sold, and for the first time since the divorce started, you found yourself alone.

–––

Divorcing Maria hadn’t been the most difficult part of it. At least not in comparison to how difficult it would be since Natasha had been your lawyer in the whole thing.

You knew you’d have to keep in contact. For professional reasons, you both agreed. Natasha had been a diligent lawyer throughout the process, and surprisingly enough, a good support system as well.

There was no denying the history the two of you used to have, and rather than ignoring it, she acknowledged that she’d do her part to support you as much as she could throughout the process. No question too much or too dumb. No stone left unturned.

At first, every email, text, and call was very much just a check in about the formalities and the paperwork. Neither of you really thought much about it or read too much into it. After all, every request for the divorce went through Natasha and Maria’s lawyer before it even reached the two of you. But then came that one out of the blue call.

You had been making some cookies to break in the oven at your new place. Specifically, they were the tea cookies that you remember getting all the time whenever Natasha used to take you to Little Odessa when you first started dating years ago. They were Natasha’s favorite, and for whatever reason, you had the strangest craving for them.

You had just finished dipping the cookies into the powdered sugar when your phone vibrated on the counter behind you. You grabbed the kitchen towel that was next to the bowl, turning around as you wiped your fingers clean to see who was calling you.

Why would Natasha be calling me at this hour?

“I wasn’t expecting your call.” You say in lieu of a hello, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder as you continue to work on the cookies.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing.” Natasha answers, still wondering if this had been a bad idea to reach out to you in the first place.

You chuckle, “Is this what you do with all your clients?”

There’s a momentary lull, and it makes Natasha wonder if this was a bad idea entirely. She managed to keep it professional with you during all these months, especially because she had truly managed to live with her feelings about you for even longer than that.

But a small part of her looked forward to all your calls and emails, even if they weren’t about anything personal beyond the divorce. The just innocent enough brushing of fingers when passing along a pen and a document to be signed. The way she could pick up on your perfume because you were sitting next to her. Even just hearing your voice again sent her into an emotional tailspin.

By some sort of fucked up serendipity, you were in her life again. But she knows she would be a fool to think that you didn’t have any unresolved bitterness about the way things between you had ended. It’s the same reason why you were divorcing Maria.

“How do you feel no longer being Mrs. Hill?” She asks instead, hoping to avoid answering the strangely accusatory question.

“Fine, I suppose. I can’t imagine wanting to get married again, at least not for a while.”

Natasha hums, if only to try and quell the inexplicable way her heart sank at hearing the words. The way it sinks even further when she realizes why it sank, the shatter that crackles all over her already fragile heart – the knowing that even after all these years, she still wants to call you her wife.

“I hear it’s not so bad, when you find the right person.”

There’s a snort from you, one that makes Natasha sink further down, down, down. She knows it’s not directed at her, and yet the burn is still the same. It wasn’t Maria, someone who you found just enough hope in for another go at happiness, or the divorce that had left you feeling the way you were in the wake of all this.

Natasha swallows, closing her eyes as she clenches and unclenches her hand, rubbing the damp of her palm on the smooth material of her pants.

It had been her all along, it had been her that caused you to carry around this matter-of-fact that’s how things were type of jadedness for so long. You had learned to live without her even after she had promised you the world. She had failed to see that she already had it all with you. That you two could’ve been living in a shoe box sized apartment as long as it meant having her home.

It had been her fault all along.

“Did…” Natasha starts, licking her lips to try and soothe the nerves that suddenly washed over her and threatened to drag her down and out of asking you something nearly impossible, “Did you want to come over for dinner tomorrow?”

If only she had known that she wasn’t the only one with a sudden ringing in her ears and a rushing in her heart once the words left her lips. She heard the sharp intake of breath from your end of the line, and already she could picture exactly the way you’d nibble on the corner of your lips. She could practically feel how you’d shake even though you’d try your best to not let it show.

“Natasha…”

It was supposed to feel good, hearing you say her name.

“It’s okay,” She starts, already giving you her rehearsed answer ahead of your predicted rejection, but she can’t help the way everything else she feels just takes over and runs out of her mouth before she can hit the brakes,“I just…I wanted to make sure you were okay, even though it’s not my place to think about you like that anymore. I’m–I’m….” She sighs defeatedly, resigning herself to the reality that was existing in the same universe as you yet somehow out of orbit, “It was good to see you again, if only for a little bit.”

There’s a scoff this time, followed by the tell-tale sniffle she knew all too well.

“Make some of those zucchini oladyi again and I’ll consider it.” You answer with a watery sigh, “Text me the address.”

All over again, Natasha finds her heart in her throat. She’s scrambling to check her pantry and fridge for the ingredients, grunting when she realizes she’ll have to go grocery shopping.

“Hello?”

“I-I’m here!” She says, already scribbling down a list of things she had to get for tomorrow night, “I’ll make whatever you want.”

“Eight o’clock fine?”

“Yes, that should be plenty of time.” It wasn’t, considering that she got off work at six in the evening if she was lucky, but she’d make it work. She had to make it work.

“I’ll see you then.”

“I’ll be seeing you.”

After hanging up, you left your phone softly clatter on the counter. You brace yourself against it, appreciating the feel of the cool stone against your hands. Your phone lights up again, this time with a text from Natasha giving you the address for dinner.

Getting divorced hadn’t been the most difficult part like it was for most people. Not for you. The most difficult part was knowing that it was redirecting you to the last person you thought was long gone from the life that would’ve made you happy.

Getting divorced was redirection, you realize as you stare at the familiar address in the text message.

Back to where it all began.

–––

Natasha should’ve known better than to hope that she would’ve gotten out of work anywhere close to the time she wanted to leave. It was a last minute task that was sprung up on her because of a client that normally wouldn’t have bothered her, but given the more pressing task waiting for her at home, the normally simple task ate up too much of her time.

She found herself rushing to the supermarket down the street with a line that took far too long for her liking, and at a quarter past seven, rushing to clean up what used to be your shared home the best she could before giving up, putting some music on, and pop open the wine bottle to let it breathe.

Natasha didn’t get much farther than grating the zucchini for the oladyi when the doorbell ringing practically spooked her right out of her skin, revving up her anxiety all over again. She rushes to clean her hands with the kitchen towel as she all but runs and practically yanks the door open.

For the first time in what seemed longer than forever, Natasha finds herself looking at you more up close than she’s ever gotten to look at you. The first thing she notices is your face, a smattering of freckles dusted across your nose and cheeks. She fights the smile that threatens to tug at her lips when she remembers that you didn’t like covering your freckles with makeup all that much.

“Hi.” She says in all but a whisper, like it was some secret she wasn’t supposed to share.

“Hi.” Your smile is surprisingly natural given the current situation, “I hope I’m on time, I just got out of work and didn’t have enough time to change.”

“At least you’re here.” She says, letting you step inside and closing the door behind you.

Something about being in the apartment you used to live in with Natasha started to brew a mess of emotions in your belly. But you decide not to pay attention to them and resolve to genuinely try and have a nice time no matter how weird it felt to be back in a home you used to share with your ex.

“You mind if I take my heels off?” You ask, handing her the tupperware full of cookies that you managed to not forget as you hang up your coat, “My feet are killing me being in them all day.”

“Sure, yeah.” She says softly, taking the container from you and waiting so you could walk together into the kitchen. She shakes the container a little bit, much to your temporary chagrin. “Tea cookies?”

“Mhm. Not the same as the ones from Little Odessa, but they’re okay.” You say easily, noticing the ingredients for the oladyi all laid out as you go to wash your hands.

“Please sit,” She insists, reaching for the bottle of wine and pouring you both a glass. Okay, maybe hers was a little more generous, but she needed it.

“Oh stop it.” You say, thankfully taking the glass from her and taking an appreciative sip, “We can both cook. I remember how this kitchen works, too.”

You don’t give her much of an opportunity to answer, milling about the kitchen to help her prepare the rest of the meal. Though Natasha does wish that she would’ve had more time to prepare everything and spend more time talking to you at the table instead, she’s appreciative of the opportunity that presented itself to be in such a familiar space with you all over again.

That being said, there was something that made Natasha feel a mess of things. Something about cooking dinner with an ex that she almost married for the first time in years, really made her realize how much she missed all of this. The clatter of dishes as you cleaned up while she did most of the actual cooking for the oladyi, the way you hummed as you moved about the kitchen as if it was so familiar – because to you, it was and you weren’t even trying to do it purposefully.

“Want me to set the table?” You ask, watching Natasha plate up the last of the oladyi.

“Sure, that would be nice.” She tells you, “Silverware is right–”

“In the drawer next to the fridge, I know.” You shake your head as you laugh slightly, getting the silverware and placemats and setting the table just so. “Where do you usually sit?”

Natasha looks at you, and for the first time that night, she doesn’t have an answer. She doesn’t want to admit that she hasn’t had dinner at the table since you rightfully left her. Like everything in this place, it was too much of a reminder of your absence.

“Well, let’s sit together then, like before.” You say, taking your place at one end of the table while Natasha places the food down and sits at the adjacent corner close to you, pouring some more wine.

Dinner is easy enough to get through. There’s a warmth and a familiarity that starts to bloom that starts to take place. Perhaps it was the wine, or the food that made the haze more profound, easier to ignore the weight of years of memories that could’ve been. Conversation of more superficial things is easier to do. They hurt less.

Food put away, you insist on putting away leftovers and washing the dishes.

“It’s the least I can do before I go home.” You say, softly closing the fridge before getting started on the dishes.

The delicate bubble of false security that had been there bursts, and all at once Natasha feels that anxiety that forcefully made itself her friend at the mention of you leaving. At the reminder that you weren’t actually here at home with her. Not for a long time now.

You notice how she doesn’t really answer though she does help with the clean up. She’s next to you, taking the dishes you rinsed off to put them in the dishwasher.

“You alright?” You ask tentatively, noticing the shift in her demeanor. The rack of dishes rattles slightly as Natasha closes the door to the appliance. “Natasha?”

“Hm?” She realizes she must’ve been on autopilot, the kind that isn’t all that productive but instead is all sorts of uneasy bubbling away in her belly. “Yeah, I was just…remembering the last time we were together like this.”

An almost imperceptible oh leaves you, but you just smile it away and nod as you put away the last of the things in the kitchen in their places. As if nothing had ever happened.

“I wish we had more time to do this, back then.”

Under any other circumstance, this wouldn’t have bothered you. But the wistful tone in her voice jars you out of the amicable reverie, and you whip back to look at her incredulously.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” The question comes out harsh, venomous, and the knot in Natasha’s heart tightens when the look on your face matches it.

“I–”

You scoff, taking a breath to try and calm the storm of feelings brewing in you. “You know what, Romanoff? You’re fucking incredible, did you know that? You have this way of saying the most out of pocket shit as if there isn’t a reason as to why those things happened.”

Natasha steps closer to you, wanting to dissuade your anger like she’s done so many times before. But seeing you step back hurts her in a way that no balm can soothe.

“You…you…” You breathe harshly through your nose, feeling the anger that had been dormant for so long starting to rear its ugly head. Natasha steps towards you again, opening her arms as if to hold you, and you all but practically push her back with a hand to her chest.

“You’re the one that fucking did this.” You continue, poking her sternum harshly, “You’re the reason why we’re like this! Why we’ve been like this! You started giving more of a fuck about what money could buy instead of actually asking me what I actually fucking wanted. You think I’ve ever needed you or Maria for that kind of shit?”

Natasha says nothing but stands there, forced to take in your words as you poke her. It hurts, but she takes it anyway. She knows she deserves this, for having forced you to leave her, for having failed you.

“You failed me, Natasha.” Your words come out shakily, giving way to all that you were feeling. You’re incapable of holding in all the hurt you’ve felt for so long. But damn it if you didn’t feel like you couldn’t cry in front of her. You spent long enough doing that because of her. “You failed us. I would’ve lived in a fucking shoe box with you eating peanut butter jelly sandwiches for who fucking cares how long as long as it meant you were coming home to me.”

Natasha bows her head, silent. You’re right. Of course you’re right. Nothing she could say would redeem her very much.

Of all the fights the two of you had ever had, none of all two of them had ever been like this one. This wasn’t the kind of fight that happened because both of you hadn’t eaten all day and were hangry because of work, or because Natasha had the tendency to be self-sacrificing and always put in a lot of hours with charity work and you wanted her to at least go to sleep on time. No, this was not the kind of fight she could fix with only a kiss and a hug.

“I fucking hate what you’ve become, Natasha.” You all but shout, body practically vibrating with all the other things you had left to say. “At least Maria had the fucking nerve to tell the truth to my face. At least she could actually say she didn’t love me the same anymore.”

Natasha felt taken aback by the statement. She couldn’t deny you the hurt, nor the truth of how she made you feel for all those years that she had failed to show up for you. But for you to think that she ever stopped loving you?

“You don’t think I know that?” She asks you with a shaky voice, “Every single day since you left me, I told myself how much of a fool I was to let you walk out of my life. How big of an idiot I must be to let you go and see you marry someone else and see that shit plastered all over the news and hear that shit at work. Every single day of my life since then I’ve told myself that! So yes, on all of those counts you’re absolutely correct.”

“You think saying that is going to fix all the hurt you’ve done?”

“Of course not.” She can feel herself shake, her eyes brimming with tears, “But fuck if I haven’t spent every day since then realizing how much I hate myself for doing what I did. Every day since you left me…every single day since then has been a nightmare. Every single day of my life, every single year you haven’t been in it, every single fucking moment you’re not there, all of it has been an absolute nightmare.”

Even through both of your tears, Natasha continues, “I worked too much because I wanted to give you everything you could ever want. I wanted to make life easier for you, knowing how much you put up with. Then I started getting more and more and more of those things that don’t fucking matter, and it was all empty. Because I’d turn around after an accomplishment and you weren’t there by my side.”

“None of those things were or are worth shit to me, because I realized that I already had all the wealth in the world – you. And in the blink of an eye, at least for me, it all fell apart.” She sobbed, unable to give more of a shit about how she looked like an utter tragedy in front of you. Her whole life after you rightfully left her was tragedy enough.

One by one, Natasha kneels in front of you and reaches out to hold your hands with her own, as if she was begging the Madonna for forgiveness for having trespassed against you. Already, she feels lucky that you do very little to deny her the feeling of your hands in her own.

“I lost everything.” She sobs pathetically, eyes pleading and full of hurt as she kisses your hands, “Because you, you are my everything. The only person I could ever love with all I have in my body.”

Her confession is enough to deflate the anger in your sails. You take a moment to process her words, questioning yourself with what it would mean for the two of you should you accept her back into your life.

You couldn’t possibly handle another heartbreak like this one again. You didn’t have it in you to be angry like this, walking around with the hurt like it was some cross to drag around as a reminder of things that could’ve been.

You never would’ve realized that all those months ago, being in her office and asking for her help to sever ties with someone that couldn’t give you what you wanted, would’ve put you in this situation with her again. Your ex-fiancé, of all people.

There hadn’t been a ring back then. But neither of you needed that formality to know, at least that had been the idea back then, that you’d be married to each other. You made her promise you that once you found the house that you’d both finally like, she’d buy you a piano instead of a ring.

You sigh shakily, wiping your face with your palms. You wanted to be so sure of your decision, but there was no way to know unless Natasha put in her part. If she really missed you that much, loved you that much, it had to work. She had to work for the both of you to work.

“Please get up.” You tell her. She looks at you with uncertainty, and then you can see the panic in her eyes. You sigh, squeezing her hand. “Please get up from the floor, Natasha. I don’t want to repeat what I’m about to say ever again.”

Realizing what you might mean, she scrambles from the floor to be standing in front of you again. When she’s finally within your reach, you cup her face and make her look at you directly. You didn’t want to be misunderstood by her, or for her to make any assumptions. There’s a firmness in both your hold of her face and in your tear laden eyes.

“If this…if we are going to work, then you are going to have to fix things, you hear me?” She nods, holding your wrists, “No, Natasha. I mean therapy. We’ll have to go to therapy together. And you have to make time for it, for me, for us, without having to ask you, huh? Enforce those fucking boundaries with your job so you can fucking finally build the life you want, otherwise I’m out of here the first fucking chance there is.”

Natasha can’t believe what she’s hearing. That what she’s wanted for so long is finally in front of her all over again, just within her grasp. She’s looking at all the details of your face— your tears have ruined the makeup but to her you’re no less beautiful. A feeling of relief suffuses through her, one that makes her want to kiss all the freckles on your face like making wishes on constellations, but she holds back.

“You hear me, Romanoff? I fucking mean it.” You insist, soft and full lips quivering angrily, “because I can’t go on living my life acting as if I don’t have a hole in my heart where you’re supposed to fit.”

“Yes, yes I hear you.” She nods frantically, sobbing from the overwhelming emotions, “I can’t take anything back but I will do it all again to have the privilege of loving you for the rest of my life.”

There’s a poignant silence that comes after such a kind of confession. You search for any signs of hesitancy in her face. There isn’t any of it, and the way she’s looking at you so earnestly has your heart thumping like a war drum.

Softening your hold of her face, you are surprised when Natasha cradles your face and all but takes the wind from your lungs as she kisses you. You can’t even respond before she’s already pulling back, apologizing profusely.

There’s another silence. Except this time, now that Natasha has kissed you for the first time after far too long, the silence gives way to a deafening need that is understood by you two without any actual words.

Neither of you have let each other go, and Natasha searches your face for any signs that might tell her you don’t actually want to be here. That maybe, all the words you might’ve just said to her must have been a cruel joke.

“Hey,” You cup her cheeks, breaking her out of her racing thoughts, “I know we have a lot to talk about, but I’m here.”

“Please don’t go yet,” She practically begs again, imitating the way you are holding her with your own face, “Please let me hold you a little longer.”

The feel of her lips on yours still weighs on you in a certain way that makes the spark you had for her start up again. Even after all the time away from her, kissing her always feels like you’re renewed. Adored.

“I’ll let you kiss me again,” You add, “if only you’ll take me upstairs.”

“Yes?” She asks, and you nod, earning a fervent, all consuming kiss from her, “yes, okay, let’s go.”

––––

It’s a strange feeling to be back in the bedroom you used to share with Natasha after such a long time. To know that there were so many memories here, both good and bad ones, it made you shiver all over.

But those didn’t matter now, especially not when you finally had each other back.

Natasha makes sure to kiss you carefully, as if not to overstep any boundaries. Although being with you like this is purely muscle memory, she wants to relearn what it’s like being with you again in all its meaning. She wants to love you again, properly.

“Tasha, baby…” You whine against her lips, playing with the buttons on her blouse, “You don’t have to be careful.”

“I just want to do this right, detka.” She says in a hushed manner against your lips, shivering when she feels the softness of your fingers when they finally slip past the unbuttoned hem of her shirt. She sighs against your lips when she feels you pull her shirt up and out of her pants, desperate to feel all of her as you work on her belt.

“Worry…about that…later” You say in between each kiss, lips traveling down her cheek and to her jaw, nibbling in between.

Natasha closes her eyes, feeling her heart rush for a different reason this time. Feeling your lips against her neck makes her heart rush, blood flow traveling down to between her legs where she shifts uncomfortably. Her fingers dig into the softness of your hips as she hears the clink of her belt being undone and tossed aside.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, slowly undoing her pants to give her time to make a decision, “Please?”

“Fuck,” She breathes out, the sound of her zipper amplified in her ears, “Please. Yes.”

There’s the rustle of her pants being pushed down along with the lace of her underwear, and Natasha quickly steps out of them and kicks them out of the way. The only things left on her are the matching bra and the expensive blouse, but she couldn’t give a single fuck about those either as they’re done away with and tossed aside.

With a firm hold on her hips, you turn Natasha and all but push her on the bed. She’s not confused for long, her heart swooping as easily as you did onto your knees. Your hands softly rub her thighs as you look at her adoringly, like you miss her, until you finally open them up and place them over your shoulders.

“Detka…” She sighs, making herself comfortable as she willingly rests her body back on her forearms.

“Shh..” You mumble softly, taking turns kissing each of her thighs delicately, running your nose along and massaging along the length of her thighs to appreciate the feel of them. You don’t fight the smile that creeps onto your lips as she lets go of a broken sigh when your warm breath touches her folds.

“Do you still have it?” You asked, placing a soft, teasing kiss on her mound, not yet giving her the relief she so desperately wanted. “You know the one I like.”

Natasha’s mouth drops when you finally lick her where she wants, but she can’t help but feel increasingly aggravated with how short the motion is.

“Yes, I have it.” She whines, lacing her left hand with yours. She can feel herself shake in anticipation when you softly kiss each swollen fold.

Natasha gasps as you reach between her legs, teasing her, opening up enough for you to slip your fingers in and feel the dew between her legs. You pull a sigh out of her when she finally feels you slip in a finger, then another once you smear the slick between her legs to make it easier for her.

“Fuck, detka,” She shudders at the feel of your fingers exploring her, experimentally and slowly thrusting them to gauge her reaction.

“I’ve missed you.” You whisper the words in between each kisses across her thighs, “I’ve missed you so fucking much.”

Natasha can only whine in response as she matches the rhythm of your hand with her hips, trying to get your fingers to go deeper. She finds it a little embarrassing how each coax from you has her dripping with need.

She hisses when your free hand reaches for her breasts, digging your nails into her skin, breathing becoming more labored as you take turns with each sensitive bud, rolling and pinching them.

She feels the hairs on her body stand on end, shivering all over when your fingers curl against that soft, spongy spot inside of her that’s threatening to let the dam inside of her break. Her fingers dig into the bed sheets as she looks down at you, feeling her heart race as she teeters closer to the precipice while you look at her.

Natasha grunts, moving her hips in time with the thrust of your fingers, feeling sweat break out all over when you take in her clit between your lips again, trying to get her to fall apart all over your face as you switch between rolling her clit like a fine candy and nibbling on it with your teeth gently, “I’m going to cum all over you if you keep doing that.”

“Come all over me, honey.” You say, your eyes locked with hers as you place a kiss on each of her swollen folds, thumb replacing your lips, “I want to feel you make a mess all over me.”

Natasha shakes her head, mumbling how she can’t. It’s been too long, she whines, feeling embarrassed. She hasn’t been with anyone like this, like she is with you. But it’s been so long since anyone has made her cum like you can.

So you make her feel fuller, working another finger into her as you curl them against that soft spot again while your thumb nestles itself onto her clit and rubs into it. You smile devilishly as her hands take a hold of your hair, grunting when she pulls at it.

“There you go, honey…” You coo, feeling her walls flutter around your fingers, “You can do it. I’ve got you. Make a mess all over–mhm, just like that. There you go. Look at you, coming all over me just like I remember you can.”

Natasha pants, feeling herself shiver all over as she breathes through her belly and feels the dam within her break. She comes all over your fingers with a shout, panting as she sees how much she squirted all over you. You feel her walls pulse as you slowly withdraw your fingers, making a show out of cleaning her climax off them with your tongue.

You giggle at the blown out, wild look in her hazel-green eyes. She’s breathless, trying to collect herself but damn do you make it hard for her, especially with the way you undress in front of her slowly, like unwrapping a present that’s been held back from her for far too long.

“Why don’t you go get it and make it up to me?” You ask softly, nodding over to where you knew she’d keep the toys. You toss the rest of your clothing to who knows where behind you, teasingly hiding yourself from her view.

It takes Natasha a moment to come back to herself, but she scrambles to go to the dresser while you make yourself comfortable on the plush bed.

You watch her as she struggles to find what she needs because of her shaky hands, but soon enough she’s putting on the strap, tightening the belts around her waist and legs before grabbing the water based lube and practically dashing back to you.

The weight of the bed shifts as she tentatively crawls over to you, settling on her knees right by your legs.

“Earth to Natasha…” You coo teasingly, smirking when you see her eyes look at the way your hands play with your own pebbled nipples with an intense concentration. You, however, are looking at the phallic toy between her legs. It was already making your mouth water, thinking about how it would feel inside you. “Are you gonna fuck me soon, or what?”

Natasha squirts a generous amount of the lube into your outstretched hand, and then her own to coat the strap on with. As she’s rubbing the lube on the fake cock between her legs, her mouth falls open in a small gasp when she sees you slowly teasing your own folds, lube and heady scented arousal mixing together, making her heart race.

“You’re taking too long.” You whine, gaze unwavering as your breath hitches when you start to rub your own clit.

Natasha growls, knowing what you’re doing to her. She takes a hold of your ankles, opening your legs to her and pulls you to her suddenly, earning a surprised squeak out of you. She slaps your hands when you try to play with yourself again.

She moves closer to you on her knees so you can feel the weight of the strap on against your thigh, and just the feel of it ghosting over your mound has you clenching around nothing in anticipation.

“You’ve missed me too, haven't you?” She asks, guiding the phallic facsimile and nestling it between your folds. She likes how you gasp when you feel the bulbous tip of it catch against your clit as she moves her hips, using your arousal to slick up the object even further.

The sight of how your skin flushes and heats up at the feel of her teasing you with the fake cock and her hands toying with your breasts sparks a mean kind of thrill in Natasha’s chest. She’s loving the way you're whining when she barely slides the tip in, retracting it when you try to move your hips to make it slide in all the way.

“Tell me, solnishko,” Natasha’s voice is different, deeper, dripping with want for you in her tone. You can see the intensity in her eyes when you try to move your hips again, gasping when she digs her nails into the lightning stripes of your hips, “You missed me?”

“Yes, fuck, yes I’ve missed you,” You gasp, voice trembling when she finally, finally indulges you by sliding the tip of the fake cock in, but still it’s not enough.

“You gonna let me make it up to you?” She asks, moving her hips slowly, sliding home into you maddeningly slow, “You gonna let me give you everything you need? Let me say I’m sorry?”

The strap on was an average length, but it was the girth and the slight curve to it that always made you roll your eyes to the back of your head. You were too distracted by the feel of it, the way your walls clenched around it to keep Natasha there.

You wanted to speak, to say anything, that she’s already done enough apologizing for tonight. But everything about the way she was fucking you speechless was too much.

“Look at you, too fucked out already to even notice you’re already coming.” She growls, undulating her hips the way you need so desperately.

“Please, Tasha, I need you,” You practically sob, crying with want and holding onto her hands for dear life as the first orgasm of the night blooms through your body. “Please fuck me already. I miss you so much, fuck.”

It was all Natasha needed to hear for her to finally let go of the inhibition. She earns a succession of breathy gasps out of you as she starts to thrust into you faster, simultaneously letting you come down from the first orgasm while building up into making you have another one.

“It’s been t-too long...” You gasp, letting her lace your hands together and place them just above your head as she moves into you with enthusiasm, like she had been starved of you for too long.

“I’m sorry.”

In a way, you’re not really sure what else she’s apologizing for. Sure, the two of you had things that needed to be spoken about, but right now you aren't thinking about that.

Being with you like this, it wakes up something greedy in her heart. She lets go of your hands, separating herself from you. She ignores your protesting, taking you by your hips and flipping you over. When you feel Natasha lightly drag her nails down your back and take a hold of your cheeks, you take the hint, bending over so she could slide into you again. The feel of her taking you like this makes you roll your eyes as you drool into the sheets.

“You feel like fucking iron…” You sob into the sheets, shivering when you feel Natasha envelop herself around you.

“And you feel like heaven,” Natasha pants into your ear, placing a kiss on the shell of it. She wonders if for all her sins against you, she could still somehow get there. But this was as close as she could get. She takes your hands like she did earlier, pushing into you and fucking you into the mattress further with something neither of you have ever felt before.

You feel the weight of her on your back, but it’s not uncomfortable. Natasha is mumbling all sorts of depraved things about how you feel and how much she wants to make you come. How much she loves having you like this, how much she loves everything about you in general. How she never wants to let you go for as long as she can.

“I’m sorry.” She grunts, thrusting with an intentional intensity when you tell her how close you are to coming all over her cock.

“H-hm..fuck, w-why?”

With her weight still on you, Natasha wraps her arms around you and presses you into the bed. Everything about it feels overwhelming in the best way.

“I’m. so. Fucking.sorry.” Natasha grunts, thrusting harshly and pointedly between each word. She can tell you disagree, but she ignores it. “Please, I–fuck, detka–I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Tasha please, I’m about to cum,” You gasp as the tip of her kisses your cervix, making you shake all over. “I-I..know you’re sorry. Fuck, you’re gonna make me–mm, rightthererightthererighthere…touch me.”

You gasp as Natasha’s right hand makes its way to your clit, pressing her fingers into it and rubbing it as she fucks into you further from behind. The all too familiar bubbling in your belly makes itself known again, making you determined to meet her thrusts as you push your ass back onto her.

“Fill me up,” You whine, “Please, I need it. Need you.”

“Need me, honey? You gonna come all over me? Want me to fill you up, don’t you?” Natasha growls into your kiss, “Come all over me, baby. You’re gonna look so good and so round, so full of me.”

The words were just what you needed to let yourself teeter over the precipice. Your climax blooms, and you’re coming all over the strap on with a sob and a shout. Natasha is a little surprised when she feels herself shudder in that tell tale way, but she welcomes the warmth that suffuses through her body all the same.

Natasha slows down her movements, gently letting the both of you come down from your highs. In an effort not to suffocate you, she rolls over to her side, bringing you with her so your back is to her chest. She wraps an arm around you, letting you rest on it as she uses her free hand to brush away the hair that stuck to the sweat on your face. She breathes with you, taking in the moment of having you in her arms again as much as she can. She laughs a little breathlessly when she pulls out of you slowly.

“It does start to chafe after a while.” Natasha says, tossing the strap and harness aside to be dealt with later. She traipses into the en suite bathroom you used to share, coming back with a warm washcloth, “Besides, gotta clean you up.”

“Mhm..” You only jump a little as she gently cleans you up, moaning softly as she takes special care between your puffy folds. You’re already feeling exhausted, like you could sleep for a whole day, and it wasn’t just because of the aggressive and emotional makeup sex that had just unraveled.

Natasha doesn’t feel embarrassed to be naked in front of you, so she stays as is, but she offers you a shirt, which you decline.

“Can I stay?” You ask, looking at her with tired, half lidded eyes.

Natasha feels that little nervous spark in her heart start up again at your words, and it shows on her face.

“You sure?” She asks, pulling the sheets back and making room for both of you, even though there was no guarantee and everything was still delicate, “I-I mean, I wouldn’t kick you out since this is…well technically it’s still your house too..”

“Tasha…” You lie down with her, abandoning all pretense of using the bedsheets when you lie down with her. You take her hand, squeezing it softly, “I know we have a lot to talk about and work on after this, but you promise me you won’t run from us again, and neither will I.”

When Natasha hears your words, she doesn’t deny how hopeful they make her feel. She scoops you into her arms without hesitating for the first time that night, and gives you a kiss so sweet and full of promise that it makes your heart swell with hope.

Natasha kisses you again, this time a little more sweetly and softly before cupping your face and looking at you with all the adoration she could ever have for you. You settle into the bed, close by and facing each other so you could feel warm breath on each other’s faces.

“I promise I’ll do everything right by you, malishka. I don’t care that we have to start all over. I’d do everything from square one if it meant having you for as long as you want to have me.”

You smile softly, keeping eye contact with her as you turn your face a little to kiss her palm. The gesture makes Natasha smile.

When Natasha settles on her back so you could fall asleep resting on top of her, she gently scratches your scalp to help keep you asleep. She cradles your left hand with her free one, her thumb gently rubbing where there was now a pale line where your wedding bands used to be.

Natasha brings that hand up to her lips and kisses the empty place, feeling hopeful that one day she can soon give you what she should’ve all along.

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