revelinwritin

[revelinwritin]

II HANDS II HEAVEN 5

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff and Reader reluctantly team up for a couples retreat mission. Despite initial resistance, they find themselves drawn together by unexpected circumstances and shared experiences.

W/c: 3.2k

“Red or Blue?” You asked Natasha as you sifted through one of your many suitcases. Clothes were strewn about on the floor around you as you debated what to wear. It wasn’t exactly a tough choice but first impressions mattered. Even if the first impressions you were banking on weren’t the other hotel guests. 

“What?” She glanced up from her phone, confusion evident in her furrowed brow. “Why are you asking me?” 

She was busy debriefing Steve and the team on a few minor details. Small things she picked up about the resort from your time in the lobby. So far, as expected, everything seemed normal. 

You glanced over, noticing her distraction, and rolled your eyes. "Just trying to involve you in the decision-making process. You know, team effort. Don’t you have girlfriends that you discuss outfit choices with?” 

 "Not really my style," She replied dryly, before resuming her conversation with Steve and the team, seamlessly slipping back into her professional demeanor.

“I can see,” You muttered as you slipped into the bathroom. You took your time changing into the black suit, tying it as best you could behind your neck before you snapped the straps of the bottoms on your waistline. You walk back over to your suitcase, squatting to find your favorite lotion-sunscreen combo that always has your skin looking lovely and sparkly. “I guess it’s not okay to ask you if I should wear my hair up or down?” You tilted your head, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you applied generous amounts of lotion to your legs. With one knee bent, you glanced over to Natasha, waiting for her response.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement as she glanced up from her phone. "I suppose you can ask," she replied. "But don't expect any expert advice from me."

You shook your head. What a shame. "Fair enough," you conceded, finishing up with the lotion before returning to your suitcase. "Looks like it's just me and my questionable fashion sense then."

It’s then Natasha truly looked at you. This bikini was wow. In every sense of the word. It was very little, borderline inappropriate, but also somehow still tasteful. Natasha's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary as she took in the sight, a subtle appreciation glinting in her eyes.

"Um, Natasha?" You prompted, noticing her prolonged scrutiny.

Natasha blinked, snapping out of her reverie. "Oh, uh, sorry," she replied, clearing her throat. "Wear your hair down. It suits the look."

You didn't catch her response at first, too engrossed in adjusting the straps of your bikini top. "What was that?" you asked, looking up to meet her gaze.

Natasha repeated herself, her tone more decisive this time. "I said, wear it down. It looks good." 

You grinned in response, nodding in agreement before turning your attention back to your reflection in the mirror. Natasha's subtle compliment brought warmth to your cheeks and a little more pep in your step.

“Are you wearing that?” You gestured to her as you made eye contact in the mirror across from the bed. It's an interesting choice on the resort’s part. Natasha’s outfit was homely but not in an insulting kind of way. A comfy set since the both of you had spent hours in the car.  With this blonde hair, she resembled the everyday girl next door. 

“Of course not,” Natasha shook her head. She grabbed her bikini from the luggage she’d unpacked already at this point.  “Don’t turn around.” She warned you. 

You turned your gaze toward the mirror, only to witness a blur of motion behind you. Clothes flew through the air as Natasha swiftly shed her sweatpants and t-shirt and stepped into her one-piece swimsuit with practiced efficiency.

The speed and fluidity of her movements left you momentarily speechless, your mouth suddenly feeling dry as you watched in awe. You attempted to distract yourself with the jewelry in front of you. Diamond hoop earrings and a small heart-shaped necklace. 

Natasha looked up from fastening her sandals. "Are you ready?"

You raised an eyebrow in mock indignation. "You just got dressed and you’re already rushing me?"

Natasha chuckled, her smirk widening as she shook her head. "I like to stay ahead of schedule," she replied, her tone teasing. 

You rolled your eyes with a grin. "Alright, alright," you conceded, reaching for your sandals. "I'm ready when you are."

“You’re wearing jewelry to the pool?” She questioned, pushing the Fendi sunglasses over her hair. 

Natasha's question caught you off guard as you adjusted your jewelry, a puzzled expression on your face. 

You glanced down at your accessories, contemplating her observation for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. "Why not?" you replied, your fingers deftly arranging the delicate pieces. "A little extra never hurt anyone."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “ If you say so," she conceded."Just don't come crying to me if you lose something in the water."

“Don’t worry I’ll find some hot pool boy to find it for me,” You shrugged. 

Natasha arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips as she shot back with equal snarkiness, "Just make sure he's qualified for the job."

***********

The pool area stirred with activity, a lively mix of people young and old enjoying the serene surroundings. The crystal-clear water sparkled under the sun's gentle rays, creating a picturesque scene that called to you.

Finding a few empty seats nearby, you and Natasha made your way over, the soft chatter of voices and the occasional splash of water filling the air. There was some reggae mix on the stereo as the bartender called out names for drinks. Dropping your bags and book onto the nearest chair, you settled down with a contented sigh, sinking into the welcoming embrace of the cushioned seat.

“Joan, sweetie,” You said with a mischievous grin, turning to Natasha. “I left my towel back in the room. Won’t you be a dear and grab me one?”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at your request, having just settled into her seat. She tilted her head slightly, a hint of annoyance in her gaze as she considered your cheeky demeanor. With a low growl, Natasha stood and walked over to the shelf where the spare towels were. She grabbed a few, walking back over to you with a frown. 

“Here,” She gently passed a towel to you. “Anything else?”

“Hmm,” You thought long and hard. “I’d love a strawberry-lemon mojito.”

Natasha's eyes narrowed further at your response."Keep dreaming," she wanted to say, but for the sake of appearances, she sighed and walked over to the bartender.  

You watched her walk away, your eyes lingering on certain assets longer than necessary. You could admit that Natasha had an amazing physique. Something you had always admired from a distance. 

A subtle flush crept up your cheeks as you realized the direction of your thoughts. Despite your professionalism, you couldn't deny the admiration you held for Natasha's physical prowess. It was a quality you had always respected, even if you had never openly acknowledged it before.

She’d probably kill you if you did it anyway. 

Turning your attention back to the pool, you made a conscious effort to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside any lingering distractions. Beside you, you noticed an older woman with graying hair casting a curious glance in your direction. Her eyes flashed with interest as she leaned closer, a warm smile gracing her lips.

“Newlyweds?” she ventured, her voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" you replied, feigning innocence as you awaited her response.

The older lady chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement at your response. "Oh, it's just something about the way you two carry yourselves," she explained with a knowing smile. "There's a certain glow of happiness and togetherness that newlyweds often have. It's unmistakable."

“Wow, you got all that in the five minutes you saw us together?” You questioned. “Are you a psychic or something?”

"Only in a past life," She laughed lightly. "I'm Leslie. And this is my husband Frank. “She referred to the sleeping man with a slight sunburn next to her. You are?" she introduced herself, extending her hand in a gesture of greeting.

"Alexis," you replied with a warm smile, accepting her handshake. "Nice to meet you, Leslie. My lovely wife over there is Joan."

"Oh, I love this newer generation of out and proud love," Leslie smiled wistfully. "It’s so beautiful to see. Such a beautiful couple too. Is this your first time at the resort?"

"Thank you, Leslie," you replied sincerely, touched by her kindness. "Yes, it's our first time here. We heard wonderful things about the resort and couldn't resist experiencing it for ourselves."

“And how do you like it?” Her eyes sparkled with interest. 

"It's been quite lovely so far," You added. “It’s been a while since we’ve taken a proper vacation together. I’m so excited for the week we’re here.” 

Leslie's excitement was contagious as she spoke about the upcoming events at the resort. "You’re going to be blown away by all of the events this week," she grinned. "There’s a special bonfire tomorrow night that’s simply fabulous. It’s intimate and cozy. Allows you to make friends on vacation."

Your interest was piqued at the mention of the bonfire, as it hadn’t been mentioned in any of the research you’d done. Maybe it was a new development."That sounds wonderful," you replied with genuine enthusiasm, masking any hint of suspicion behind your smile. "We'll definitely have to check it out."

“You absolutely should,” Leslie began to stand. “It would be wonderful for a lovely couple like you to grace us with your presence.” Leslie’s aching bones limited her mobility as she shuffled around the chairs. “I’m going to the bathroom. If Frank wakes up, which I doubt he will, be a dear and tell him I’ll be back.”

“Will do, Leslie,” You nodded, offering a warm smile. She seemed nice enough. You returned your gaze to Natasha to see that she was engaged in a conversation of her own. Seems that people naturally gravitated to both of you. 

*******************

For the first time in days, Natasha found a moment of peace at the bar. She settled onto one of the stools, swaying gently to the rhythm of the music as she signaled to the bartender. As he approached Natasha did a quick once over of his body. Something someone of his attractiveness would be used to. His dark, mahogany skin glowed with a natural warmth, complemented by a smile that seemed to light up the entire bar. 

His hair, a messy of glossy curls, framed his face in a wild and untamed mane, adding to his charm.

He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants that appeared to be the uniform for all of the staff. 

"Hello," Natasha greeted him with a warm smile, her tone playful yet composed. "I'll take a strawberry and lemon mojito, and hmm," she paused, pressing a finger to her chin in contemplation. She was completely in character at the moment. "Surprise me. Something fruity."

"Coming right up," he replied with a nod, before stepping over to his work area. 

Natasha watched him for a few moments longer before her eyes trailed over the pool area, she couldn't help but notice the diverse display of people and their lively parties. Briefly, her gaze flickered in your direction, a silent acknowledgment of your presence. You managed to look so relaxed already. Though she could see the subtle ways your eyes would flick over the pool area whenever you laughed or spoke to the older woman sitting beside you. 

“Hey, Henry, that couple’s here again.” A short woman with bone-straight brunette hair and botox lips informed him as she stepped behind the counter. She did quick work of washing her hands and gathering abandoned dishes on the bar. Natasha squinted to see her name tag. Blanca. A fitting name. 

“Which one?” Henry, the bartender Natasha had spoken to moments earlier, briefly glanced over to her. 

“The one with the dog,” Blanca sighed. “Don’t know why Jorge keeps allowing them to bring it. He’s anxious and it’s too hot out here for him anyway.” 

Henry furrowed his brow in concern, glancing briefly in the direction of the couple with the dog approaching. "That doesn't sound good," he remarked."Have they caused any trouble?"

Blanca shook her head, her lips pursed in disapproval. "Not yet, but it's only a matter of time. You know how Jorge is, always bending the rules for certain guests."

Natasha's mind raced with possibilities as she listened to their conversation. The mention of Jorge and his leniency towards certain guests hinted at a potential breach in security or protocol. 

“Here you are ma’am,” Henry passed Natasha both drinks before she stood to walk back to her seat. 

As she passed the couple, the dog in question moved over to sniff Natasha in greeting. 

“Oh, hello there,” Natasha smiled warmly, reaching out a hand to give the dog a gentle pat on the head. This certainly wasn’t a service dog based on his relaxed demeanor.

“Oh, Ozzy is so friendly, I’m so sorry,” The woman with platinum blonde hair and several tattoos attached to the leash apologized to Natasha, a hint of concern in her voice.

Natasha waved off the apology with a gracious smile. "No need to apologize, he's quite adorable," she reassured the woman, her tone friendly and welcoming.

As Natasha continued interacting with the dog, she noted the couple's appearance and demeanor. Something about them didn't quite fit the typical resort guest profile of this caliber, and Natasha's instincts told her there might be more to their presence than meets the eye. They both seemed so uptight and frazzled. 

Natasha gave them another smile and walked back over to you. 

“Took you long enough my drink is probably watered-down liquor,” You pouted. “Eh, this is wow.” You coughed. It wasn’t nasty. It was strong and certainly had more alcohol than fruit somehow. 

Natasha arched an eyebrow at your remark. 

"Well, perhaps next time you can come behind the bar and make it yourself," she quipped, her tone laced with playful sarcasm. "Then you can ensure it meets your exacting standards."

“My existing standards led me to you,” You said through your teeth. 

Natasha's lips curved into a smirk as she settled into the seat beside you, her gaze locking with yours in a silent exchange of understanding.

"Well, lucky me," she retorted. "I'll make sure to keep living up to those standards then."

"Does it ever end?" You fake whispered, turning your head towards Leslie, attempting to convey your thoughts discreetly.

Leslie caught your gaze and smiled kindly, her eyes reflecting understanding. At least she had the decency to pretend she wasn’t listening. "Oh, dear," she replied with a chuckle.  "Sometimes it feels like it never does, but there's always a light at the end of the tunnel."

"J, this is Leslie," You introduced Natasha smoothly, seamlessly slipping into your cover story. "She’s my new best friend."

"It's lovely to meet you, Leslie," Natasha added with a friendly smile, her tone warm and genuine.

“Well, aren't you two just the sweetest pair," she remarked, her voice tinged with affection. "I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Joan. I was telling your wife here about the bonfire tomorrow. It’s something special. You have to see it."

You nodded in agreement, your smile genuine as you responded. "We wouldn't miss it for the world, Leslie. Thank you for the recommendation. It sounds like a wonderful way to spend the evening."

As the conversation dwindled, eventually Leslie drifted over to the poolside and began to make conversation with a few older women. Natasha began to go through the bag she’d brought to the pool and found a small bottle of sunscreen. 

"Here, rub this on me," She instructed you, handing you a bottle of sunscreen.

"Why?" you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice as you eyed her pale skin. "Didn’t you already put some on before?"

Natasha gave you a pointed look, her expression conveying a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "Don’t question the logic, just do it," she replied firmly, holding out her arm expectantly.

As you began applying sunscreen to Natasha's exposed skin, you couldn't help but feel a sense of resignation wash over you. Silently, you wondered why you had taken on this job in the first place. It wasn't that you were truly angry; in fact, you were the complete opposite. 

This part of the mission had never been difficult before. Playing the part of a fake doting wife had practically become second nature to you. But being here with Natasha felt different. There was something about her presence that stirred emotions within you, emotions you hadn't expected to surface during the mission.

Natasha turned her back to you, dropping the straps of her swimsuit lower on her arms so you could reach her shoulders. The intimacy of the moment caught you off guard, and for a brief moment, you found yourself lost in the sensation of her warm skin beneath your fingertips.

As you rubbed the warm cream into Natasha's skin, the muscles of her back flexed slightly beneath your touch. You couldn't help but notice the way her body responded to your ministrations, and a rush of thoughts flooded your mind. They weren't entirely pure thoughts, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the direction your mind was wandering.

But then, a small comfort washed over you - at least Natasha couldn't read minds. You silently thanked whatever higher power existed for that small mercy, grateful that your innermost thoughts remained your own.

"I think we could hang out by the pool for a few hours and then call it a night," Natasha suggested, her voice breaking the comfortable silence between you. "Maybe go over some things."

"Sounds like a plan," you replied, masking any hint of hesitation with a casual tone. "A bit of relaxation by the pool is exactly what I’m here for.”

“Only that?” Natasha looked over her shoulder to you. “And the beautiful women,” You muttered under your breath. 

Natasha's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features as she turned to face you fully. "Really?" she questioned, her voice carrying a note of exasperation.

You chuckled, recognizing her annoyance but unable to resist pushing her buttons just a little. "Hey, just stating the obvious," You replied with a shrug. 

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Well, try to keep your eyes open okay?" she retorted, a touch of teasing in her tone despite her annoyance. “Don’t sleep with anyone behind my back.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” You pressed a hand to your chest, faking scandilization. “How dare you insinuate I would ever cheat on my beautiful, intelligent, and hot wife.” 

“That drink was stronger than you’re letting on,” Natasha smirked knowingly. 

“Maybe,” You shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know.” You sighed as you lounged in the chair, your head pointed towards the sun. Natasha turned in her chair to watch you for a few seconds longer before she laid back in her chair. 

So far, there was nothing out of the ordinary about this place. It seemed like a typical resort, with sun-drenched pool areas, lush tropical foliage, and guests lounging lazily in the warm afternoon sun. 

Everything appeared to be just as it should be, with no signs of the covert operations or clandestine activities that you had been tasked with uncovering.

Despite the lack of immediate danger or suspicious behavior, you remained vigilant, knowing that appearances could be deceiving.

[revelinwritin]

Hugging them from behind/laying their head on the other's shoulder with Natasha Romanov? I need her like I need air.

And we will never see her again! Unless its in animated form. Or in Yelena's flashbacks. I'm sorry I made this sad. Take fluff now.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, neck kisses, domestic bliss, Natasha is soft for you

A/N: Prompt is from this list.

1. Hugging them from behind/laying their head on the other's shoulder

She could tell you were appriaching, Natasha was always aware of her surroundings but around you she didn't have to be in a fight or flight mode. It was a good different use for her assassin skillset.

"Hips." She smiled to herself as she felt your arms circle around her. You pulled her away from he kitchen counter and buried your nose in her short hair.

"You stole my shampoo."

"I did not. It was sitting there next to the mirror, unguarded. So I helped myself to it. I think it suits me." Among your shampoo she also had a knack for taking your clothes. However it was always returned washed. You couldn't tell her not to do it, she looked better in your outfits then you did. "Shoulder."

Right as you leaned your chin against her shoulder you felt her pull the shirt down. The newly exposed skin made you gulp. "Neck?" You asked already wetting your lips.

"Alright. Since you asked nicely." Natasha leaned her head to the side and sighed when she felt your lips press against her neck.

"You knew I was gonna do that didn't you?" She laughed as she folded her arms over yours. Gently she began to sway with the non-esxistant music, you following quickly. "I love you, Nat. I'm happy you're here."

"I'm happy I'm here too, with you." There was no place in the entire multiverse she'd rather be. Her place, the place where she was at her happiest, was in your arms.

[revelinwritin]

can you please write daddy nat just fucking reader into oblivion everywhere 😩

daddy nat would fuck you brainless in every corner of the house at every hour, especially if she has you on a breeding schedule. you’re busy? who cares, she needs to have her balls deep in you. strong hands throw everything off the surface and starts to pistol into you. around the house you’re always in only baby pink panties, she obviously picked them up for you, one of her large shirt too big for you in order to reach your breasts easily.

do you think that’s all it? no. daddy nat clearly has to try every damn spot to fuck you dumb. it doesn’t matter anymore where, her main goal is to breed you and claim her holes: the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, the living room, the pool, the backyard, the floor, once also in the garage and so on and on.

her favourite place you wonder? the bed. why? rather than be comfortable for both of you, she can pin you down and fucking you raw like an animal and breeding you into a mating press. however, her favourite spot is also by the window. she pins you there and fucks you into the oblivion so everyone can see how a slut you are. thick cock in your tiny pussy, white cream drooling out your thighs and tits jiggling into her hold. you belong to her and she’s much happily to show everyone.

daddy nat clearly doesn’t stop at every corner of the house. she’s obsessed with car sex. having her cock deep in your throat as she drives is her guilty pleasure. having you seated on the passenger seat like a princess while her free hand pump into your tight hole, throwing you in the backseat to watch you jump on her cock or even pinning you down to pistoling into your cunt.

the car isn’t her limit either. she fucked you dumb once also into a changing room at the store. it was breeding time and god forbid her if she miss it, it was necessary she said. she made you seat on her lap facing the big mirror to force to look you reflex at how good you take her massive cock, how your only job is to please her and how much of a cock whore you are for her. her hand sadly was on your mouth, but let’s just say that the skin slapping and she squelching sound of your pussy and her dick meeting, let you have a consumer complaint either way.

your daddy thought it was a waist to not let you scream her name at that point, she definitely will come back to give everyone a show next time. and you didn’t even say a word, why wouldn’t you? in the end you’re always happy to be stuffed full everywhere from your daddy.

[revelinwritin]

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff x Black!Fem! Reader

Note: This is a repost from my since deactivated account Natsxaddiction. I will be adding the shorter stories to here; 20 chapters or less - sorry TLH fans =(

Chapter 1/20 (A completed story)

Summary: Natasha and Reader are married. They get into an accident where Natasha suffers serious injuries including amnesia. Natasha no longer remembers her life with reader and their children. All she remembers are her days loving Bruce.

W/c: 4.2k

There was doubt in her face. You could see she didn’t trust you. As she blinked rapidly to adjust to the harsh lights of the hospital room you could tell something was wrong. Your heart ached at the way her hands gripped the ventilator down her throat. It’s been helping her breathe for this long. Her eyes widened in panic as she clutched at the offending object. You placed a hand on top of hers hoping your familiar touch would be calming. Instead, you saw her flinch as her eyes flew to yours. There was something there that you hadn’t seen in a long time, if ever. Natasha was scared. She was terrified even. She doesn’t know who you are.

“Natasha, baby, don’t rip it out.” You say softly to her despite the lump in your throat. She’s shaking. She stops to look at you for a second before attempting to remove the tube again. You sigh and press the call button for a nurse or doctor. Natasha shakes her head, her eyes pleading for you to help her, as she attempts again. There’s a panic rising between the both of you for many different reasons. She doesn’t know who you are or where she is. You are coming to the realization that your wife may not remember you. You’re going to need an explanation and fast.

There’s a knock on the door and then a nurse with a tight bun and scrubs is entering the room. She gives you a soft smile before it disappears. Natasha is awake. She’s awake and she’s scared. She walks over to the IV hooked up to Natasha’s hand and inspects it.

“Hello, Mrs. Romanoff, you’re in New York-Presbyterian Lower Manhattan, you were in an accident,” The older lady explains to Natasha. For a second Natasha relaxes before she glances at you. How does she know she could trust either of you? “You suffered from a few injuries. Nothing you won’t recover from. I know you want this out and the doctor will be able to do that later. Are you in pain?” Natasha hesitates like you know she will. You can see the imperceptible way her hand twitches. She nods reluctantly. The nurse, Alicia, nods and administers more of the pain medicine that would allow Natasha to sleep peacefully and pain-free. You both wait with bated breath for the redhead to relax. She finally does and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“She’ll be fine, Mrs. Romanoff,” Alicia pats your arm sympathetically. You nod. You’re not so sure if that’s true.

You don’t mention Natasha’s panic at seeing you. You don’t mention the distant look in her eyes when she looked at you. As if you’ve never met. As if she’s never loved you. The stinging tears it brings to your eyes make you wonder if it’s your mind playing tricks on you. When she wakes up later you’ll know the truth.

It’s been exactly a week since the accident. You remember it as if it were yesterday. An idiot drunk driver collided with your car on the passenger side. The one that Natasha was on. Your car was completely destroyed though you don’t really care. You could buy another one. You couldn’t get another wife. The woman lying before you was…is your everything. While you and the drunk driver left the accident with minor injuries Natasha wasn’t so lucky. She retained a traumatic head injury resulting in a coma, one fractured rib, and a broken wrist. Somehow you feel lucky that she even recovered.

You had been on your way to your daughter’s very first dance recital. It was her first recital before Thanksgiving break. You were running late, driving through the roads with care, but still excited to see your baby girl dance. Natasha was buzzing with excitement and pride as she toyed with the radio from her seat. She was a bit annoyed by your tardiness but hadn’t said as much. Nothing could ruin the night, well except almost dying in a car accident. One that’s seemingly changed your life forever. Now you’re here in a hospital room with your wife asleep in a bed not knowing what will happen next.

You pull your phone from your pocket to send Melina another text. She and Alexei are keeping the girls for you. They’re Natasha’s parents that she gained from her mission from The Red Room. You let her know Natasha woke up. She replies with praise before telling you they will come to see you both as soon as they can. The girls miss their Mama just as much as you’ve missed your wife. This past week has been hell. No one knew when Natasha would wake up. If she would wake up.

You could only hope to move past this now that she has.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and pray that Natasha wakes up again.

*****************

You don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until you hear the rustling of the bed. Natasha’s awake. Your eyes snap open to watch her. She struggles for a bit before dropping her hands against the bed. She’s given up on trying to take the tube out though you’re sure she could if she truly wanted. You lean over to put yourself in her line of eyesight.

“Natasha,” Green eyes meet yours. She furrows a brow. She clearly wants to ask you something. “Hey, I don’t know how much you remember about what the nurse told you but you’re in the hospital.” You gently tell her about what’s happened to her. She listens with rapt attention before her eyes scan the room. She lifts her uninjured hand to scratch at the tube before she drops it again. Her red-painted nails press firmly against the sheets. “I can call someone to take it out for you.” You don’t wait for an answer, not that she can. You grab the call button to press it. “Someone will be here soon.” You sit in silence until Alicia makes her appearance again.

Alicia slowly helps Natasha to remove the ventilator. Your eyes fly to the ground to avoid seeing her in so much pain. You can hear the small grunt of pain she emits though Natasha quickly tries to hide it. You glance up again to find that Alicia is putting Natasha through a swallowing evaluation. The water that’s been waiting by her bedside is given to her. Natasha swallows harshly before sitting back against the raised bed.

“Where’s everyone?” Natasha rasps. She clutches her throat again before looking around.

“Your throat may be a little raw, take it easy,” Alicia explains. “Your wife would be happy to tell you where everyone is. She hasn’t left your side this entire time.” Natasha glances at you. She’s sporting a look of confusion.

“Wife?” That one seriously hurts and she looks to the nurse for assistance. “I’m not married. Whatever sick joke this is I will find out.” There’s an edge in her tone. She’s almost menacing. “Who sent you?” Her next words are directed towards you. You’re aware she’s fighting the pain in her throat to ask you this.

“No one sent me, Natasha.” You say firmly. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because I’m your wife.” Natasha shakes her head. You raise your hand to place it over hers and she snatches it away as if she’s been burned.

“Where’s Bruce?” She asks. Bruce? You haven’t seen that man in years. Why was she asking about him? “Where’s Steve? Who. Sent. You?” She asks again. She’s not buying anything you’re telling her.

“Natasha-”

“How about we give Mrs- Ms. Romanoff a minute,” Alicia suggests. Something angers you about the slip-up. She’s asking you to leave the room. It’s clear Natasha needs a minute and as much as you’d like to stay you know you need one too. “I’ll be out there soon to talk to you.” You nod dejectedly. You rush out of the room to throw yourself against the wall. Your breaths come harsher as you try to figure out what that was in there. The look in her eyes. The way she talked to you. You’re almost sure if she had one there would be a knife to your throat.

You’re just about to send a message to Melina to tell her not to bring the kids today when Alicia interrupts you. You put your phone away before you can finish the message.

“It seems that Mrs. Romanoff doesn’t remember a few key details about herself,” Alicia informs you. “I’m going to have to call Dr. Brent in here to assess her further.”

“Does she have amnesia or something?” You question. Alicia frowns.

“I can’t really say but it may appear so.” She can see the scared look on your face. What would that mean for you? What would that mean for Natasha? For the girls? You let out another harsh breath.

You can tell Alicia wants to comfort you but you barely know her. Her job extends to Natasha’s care and she’s done that and more. You thank her. You wait for her to walk away before turning back to Natasha’s room. The doctor would be here as soon as he could. In the meantime, you have to try and deal with things.

You prepare yourself with a deep breath and a shake of your hands to rid yourself of the nerves. You almost felt ridiculous. This was your wife for goodness sake. The one you’ve spent six and a half happy years with. You knock gently, deciding against barging in when you’re surprised by the sight in front of you. Natasha is standing from the bed, and clearly in pain, searching for her clothes.

“Nat, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You say. She doesn’t even bat an eye as she continues to put on her pants. You’re not sure how she’s even found them but that doesn’t matter now. You step a bit closer to her, bracing your hand behind her back in case she falls, and again you plead for her to sit down. “Natasha, you’re hurt.” You tell her.

“It would be better for you to let me leave now before the team finds you,” Natasha mutters. She’s in such a different headspace. One she hasn’t been in for a while and you’re a bit unsure how to get through to her thick head. Something angers you about the way she winces when she tugs the pants onto her hips. Her ribs haven’t healed yet and she shouldn’t be walking until the doctor assesses her.

“Natalia, sit down now.” Your voice is low and firm. It’s one you’ve only ever reserved for the bedroom but at this moment you know it’s gotten to her. She pauses to look over at you. You used her birth name. She eyes you and for a moment you think she’s going to listen.

“Who do you think you are?” She frowns.

“Your god damned wife, Natasha.” You say exasperatedly. Before she can protest you continue. “I’m not some spy sent to kill you. I’m not a member of the Red Room and I’m not working against you. I’m an Avenger. I’ve seen you through your worst and dammit it may be worse than this if you don’t sit down and allow your ribs to heal.” Natasha blinks slowly. You’re prepared to fight her on this. She sits slowly and you can see the pain etched across her features. There’s something akin to regret on her face as she tries to shift into a comfortable position. You move towards her without realizing it as your hands grip her hips to help her onto the bed. She doesn’t push you away this time but you can feel how she tenses under your fingers.

You move back to find she’s eyeing you questioningly.

“You don’t have to believe me but please, don’t hurt yourself trying to run away.” She’s shocked now. “I can call Tony or Steve if you want and they can come here.” You try again.

“And Bruce?” She asks quietly. You’d left his name out on purpose.

“And Bruce.” You sigh. You’re not really going to call him but you needed her to calm down.

Natasha’s forest-green eyes scan your face. She’s trying to remember you. She can’t and she’s frustrated by this. Despite your firmness, you’re being kind to her. She doesn’t know your angle or motive. You don’t move as she continues to rack her brain for memories of you. It’s painful to see that she can’t find a single one.

There’s another knock at the door that breaks her from her trance. Both of you turn to look at Dr. Brent as he enters. He’s 6’2, blonde, and blue eyes rivaling McDreamy’s. He comes into the room with a soft smile.

“Hello, Natasha, I’m Dr. Brent I’ve been the one looking over your case for the past week,” He introduces himself to her. “I am under the impression that you’re a bit unclear about what’s happened?”

“Bingo,” Natasha quips and you resist the urge to snort. Despite the situation, she’s resorting to her usual sarcastic nature.

“Okay, I’m going to run a series of tests to assess the situation for an answer.” He says. He puts on gloves and steps over to the opposite side of Natasha. You move to hold her hand only to stop yourself. Natasha hates doctors and needles and pretty much anything to do with hospitals. You know how stressful it can be for her but you’re not sure if you should touch her. You’re afraid of setting her off.

He assesses Natasha’s pupils, her heart rate, her ability to remember commonly known facts. When he asks her to repeat a series of words he asked her minutes ago she does so with a hint of boredom. You watch in trepidation as he moves on to asking her about the last thing she remembers.

“It was during Ultron,” Natasha says. “Some robot Tony created went rogue so we needed to hide out.” She’s keeping out a few key details.

You know from the times she’s told you that she and the rest of the OG members took cover at Clint’s farmhouse. It was there she also suggested to Bruce that they run away together. It wasn’t her finest moment though you doubt she thinks that now. Dr. Brent takes down a few notes and promises to take a look over her brain scans.

“What does it look like doctor?”

Dr. Brent glances at Natasha.

“Don’t hold back, Doc, she’s my wife, remember. Anything you say in front of her you can say in front of me.” You don’t like the way Natasha throws out that line so easily. Like she doesn’t believe it. Like she doesn’t care about your feelings at all. To her, she doesn’t.

“It looks like a form of retrograde amnesia. Usually this type is when you can recall recent events and not things from years ago. For Natasha, it seems that she can’t remember her life from the past few years at all. Her recent is not as we think.” He explains. Natasha frowns. She doesn’t believe any of this that’s going on.

“And when would she get her memories back?” You ask. You’re afraid of the answer.

“Only time will tell.” Dr. Brent informs you. “There is no cure. As her brain heals there may be memories that come back piece by piece or she may not get them back at all. What we can do is be patient. Remind her of the time, date, and place. Treat her with kindness.” You nod. You could do that.

“When can I go home?” Natasha asks loudly.

“Once we’re done running the tests I see no reason why you can’t go home in the next few days. For now, we need you to sit tight and allow your body to heal.”

Natasha Romanoff sitting tight? Ha! Natasha was a busy body. She was always on even when you weren’t. She rarely allowed herself to recover from her injuries and you’re sure this won’t be any different.

“Thank you, Doctor.” You say. This would certainly be a trying task.

The Doctor finishes up a few more tests with a promise to come back later to check up on both of you.

“Are you hungry?” You ask her. Natasha’s pout and folded arms don’t hide the fact that she wants to say yes. She shakes her head no. “Can you bring up the lunch meal?” You direct your question to Alicia. She nods and quickly exits the room. There’s a silence between the two of you. Natasha is watching the exit closely while you watch her. You’re not really sure what to do or say.

“You must be curious.” You break the silence.

“About?” Natasha tilts her head.

“Everything,” You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your jeans. Natasha’s eyes rake your body in interest. Amnesia or not she’s attracted to you.

Natasha opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by a swing of the door opening. You curse at the lost opportunity of her opening up. You panic when you realize exactly who has interrupted. All you see is a flash of brown hair as they whip past you. Before you can stop her, your daughter is climbing onto the bed to settle on Natasha’s lap.

“Mama!” Olivia cheers. She bounces in place as she inspects Natasha. “You’re not sleeping anymore.” Olivia smiles.

“Mama! Mama! Up.” The other little one is not too far behind as she walks into the room with Melina and Alexei hot on her heels. She races to the other side of the bed, raising her arms towards Natasha, and looks up at her expectantly. You can see the rising panic in the other woman as she places her hands against her chest to keep from touching Olivia. You don’t know if it’s more distressing for her to see her parents or her children. You choose to diffuse one situation before the other.

“We’re very sorry, Y/n, we tried to call you before but they were so excited to hear that she was awake.” Melina has the decency to look guilty.

“Why isn’t she talking?” Olivia asks. Her big brown eyes blink up at you. Natasha opens and closes her mouth like a fish out of water. You move swiftly to remove her from Natasha’s lap to place her on her own two feet.

“Liv, remember how Mama was hurt in the crash and she hit her head?” You kneel to be on her level. Olivia nods glancing at Natasha. “Well, she still has to get better so we need to give her a bit more time. I know you and Lily are excited to see her but it’s still a bit much for her.”

Olivia may be young but she’s not stupid. She nods dejectedly. She knows this means they would have to leave. You can see her bottom lip tremble as tears threaten to fall.

“Hey, hey, little mouse, it’s going to be just fine, we just need to give Mama some time.”

“But I miss her,” Olivia frowns. There’s going to be a lot of tears if you don’t think fast.

“They can stay,” Natasha is the voice to speak. You give her a surprised look before she nods. You thank her silently before turning back to Olivia.

“Mama says you can stay but you have to be gentle.” You tug a still excited Lily into your embrace so that she’s aware of what you’re saying. You move your hands in a series of motions. She still has a pacifier pressed into her mouth but she says a meek yes around it.

“They need to leave,” Natasha says. She says it with such finality. She’s referring to Melina and Alexei. You look over to them apologetically and Melina raises a hand. She knows it’s not the time to be pleading her case with Natasha. Not when she’s this delicate.

“I’ll bring them out to you when we’re done.” You inform them. They nod and leave the room.

Olivia turns back to Natasha. This time unsure of herself. Your heart breaks as you realize she doesn’t know what to do. Natasha has never reacted to them in this way. Everything is riding on her as she looks over to the girls.

“You can climb up here, Myshka.” Natasha encourages her. She’s caught onto the nickname you used for the little girl. Olivia looks to you for reassurance. You give her a nod. She slowly climbs into the bed and settles on Natasha’s side. Natasha is a bit out of her element but she doesn’t flinch away this time.

“Mama, you’re okay?” Olivia asks.

“I’m okay,” Natasha confirms. She’s a natural actress and can put on a front for the kids. Even if she doesn’t remember them she doesn’t want to hurt them.

“I thought you died and left us,” Olivia says. Natasha looks to you for help.

“Mama is fine,” You assure her. Olivia fiddles with her fingers before looking her over again.

“When can you come home?”

“After the doctor has checked her,” You say.

“Mama,” Lily whines from your arms. She gives you the sign for ‘want’ before stretching her arms out for Natasha. Natasha opens her arms and allows Lily to fall into them. She brushes a hand over her curls, exposing the cochlear implant, she inspects it before looking at you. You’ll explain it to her later. Lily settles in her arms happily. If Natasha is feeling any pain she hides it so she doesn’t startle them.

“We drew pictures for you,” Olivia informs her. “And we also stayed with Nana and Pop-Pop.” She begins to tell Natasha about her entire week. Natasha listens with rapt attention. Though she doesn’t remember them her motherly instinct is strong. It has always been.

“Oh yeah?” Natasha asks. She’s genuinely interested in what the little girl has to say. She’s somehow multitasking as she listens to Olivia while keeping Lily from pulling at the fabric of her gown. You cringe. In your haste to get them to settle for her, you weren’t expecting this. Lily is asking to nurse. Something you’re one hundred percent sure Natasha isn’t comfortable with. Natasha catches on, redirecting Lily’s tiny hand into her own.

Lily sighs, clearly frustrated, but resigns to laying her head against Natasha’s chest. It’s another hour before they fall asleep in her arms. Natasha hasn’t moved an inch since then. You’re sure this can’t be comfortable.

“Is it true?” Natasha asks. She sounds different. Not like earlier. She’s afraid of the answer. She wants to believe that the little girls in her arms are hers.

“Yes,” You confirm. “They’re yours. Ours.” You correct yourself.

She’s afraid to ask the next question but she finds her voice.

“How?”

“A human trafficking bust in Brazil,” You start. “It had been going on for years until we got to them. The only reason we were asked to step in was that the facility somehow kept going under the radar for S.H.I.E.L.D. They were using the kids for experiments and pretty much everything else.” You know she’ll understand the implications of that. You clear your throat. “Their mother, she was seventeen, had just given birth to Lily, and was holding onto a starving Olivia when you found her. It’s why she’s still so small.” Natasha brushes her fingers across Olivia’s now chubby cheeks. Olivia’s eyelashes flutter but she never opens her eyes. “You tried to save her too but she died before we could get her to a hospital. All of the other children were saved but you wouldn’t let go of these two. Lily was just a few days old and Olivia was just shy of her second birthday. You pleaded with me to keep them and we signed the adoption papers as soon as we could.” Natasha raises her head for the first time. Throughout the entire story, she’s been staring at them in awe. Like she doesn’t believe it.

“We found out Lily suffered from severe hearing loss due to an infection.” Natasha glances at her ears. “ I know it’s a lot to take in but I’m not lying to you. I wouldn’t. Not about this.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears that she quickly tried to hide.

“How old are they now?” She finds herself asking.

“Olivia is three almost four and Lily is eighteen months.” You inform her. They’re so young and not understanding of their world yet. Not understanding the gravity of Natasha’s amnesia.

“I don’t remember.” She frowns. “I don’t remember any of it.” She’s becoming upset.

“Nat, it’s okay, we can figure it out.” You try to keep her calm. “We can figure it out just please bear with me.” You plead for her. “You don’t have to believe I’m your wife. You don’t have to believe that any of this is real. Just don’t run away. Don’t hide.” Don’t try to find Bruce you want to add but you keep it to yourself. She nods tiredly.

“Melina and Alexei are here,” She says suddenly.

“They are,” You reply.

“I haven’t seen them since I was eleven years old,” Natasha whispers brokenly. She looks down at the girls sleeping peacefully in her arms. You say nothing. “I’m not leaving them.” She says resolutely.

You believe her. What does this mean for the future?

[revelinwritin]

Late Night Discussions

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Natasha and R have a few minutes alone during the night

The Loud House universe - which you can find on A03 Here

18+ Smut Inside - Minors DNI

When you have a hot wife such as Natasha you can’t help but touch, taste, feel. It would feel illegal not to. She’s been standing across from you at the counter for the better part of a half hour. She’s asking for legal advice on “Official Avenger’s Business” as you like to call it. You answer as much as you possibly can without offering her anything that would require more brain power. Not now. Especially when your eyes keep flashing to her breasts and hardened nipples peeking through the cotton of her t-shirt. Natasha has noticed your staring, a flush on her face, and a smirk on her lips though she never stops to mention it. She enjoys the attention from you. Enjoys being desired by her wife. After ten years and five kids together she loves the way you want her.

You abandon your seat on the Island to come and stand behind her. At first, it’s innocent, just a gentle peck to her cheek as she leans her upper half against you. You run your hands over her belly, her waist, and her thighs. Some of your favorite spots to touch. Natasha melts at your touch, her breathing even, as you grip her waist to pull her into your front. Her lips part with a gasp as she finally gets a chance to feel the thick cock pressing against her ass. Now that you can see her lower half, you get a visual of it disappearing between two firm cheeks, poking at her pussy through her shorts, as you gently rub against her.

Natasha attempts to stay focused on her papers all the while pushing against the strap you’ve been hiding in your pajama pants. Even through the thin material of her panties, she gets that delicious feeling she’s been craving all day. You stroke her stomach, becoming dangerously closer to the waistband of her shorts though you never breach the barrier.

“Think you can take it?” You ask. Truth is your plan to fuck Natasha here in the kitchen in the middle of the night wasn’t exactly planned. You simply wanted to surprise your wife and fuck her senseless. You’re well on your way to that. All you need is her permission. Which she gives easily. Natasha nods in response as she bends over the counter properly. Deciding against taking off every item of clothing, you simply lower her shorts down mid-thigh then your own pants far enough to let the cock spring free. You shift your hips forward, sliding the cock through wet folds, as you push Natasha’s t-shirt further up her back to reveal every inch of skin for you.

Natasha lets out a whimper when the strap glides through her folds, the tip rubbing over her sensitive clit, as she leans her head against her arms. She wiggles against you impatiently and you know what she wants.

“Baby, you need to be patient or it’ll hurt,” You inform her, bringing your hand down to her front, to help her along.

“I’ve never minded pain, you know that.” Natasha mumbles. She hisses through her teeth when your finger presses firm circles to her clit.

“If you say so,” You give half a shrug. Who were you to deny her this? You wrap your hand around her waist to keep her steady as you pull back, guiding the cock to her entrance, and feeling the resistance of her incredibly tight walls, as she takes all of you. Inch by inch you slide inside of her until your hips are flush with her. Her breath has been stolen and you’re sure she’s not standing on the tip of her toes just for fun. Natasha has her limits and you both know them well. Which is why you go back to stroking her clit, your other hand rubbing over the span of her back soothingly as she adjusts to the feeling of being so full.

“Relax, Tasha,” You instruct and you can see her take deep breaths. “If it’s too much-”

“No,” She argues back fiercely. “Not too much. Just…full.” You nod even though she can’t see you. “Move. Please.” She adds and you quickly set your pace.

Nice and slow. Stroke in, stroke out. Her walls gripping you and pulling you every thrust. You raise your left hand to her shoulder, guiding her along your cock, as your other hand holds firmly to her waist. She can’t run. All she can do is take it. Whatever you’re giving her at whatever pace you’re giving it. Natasha breathes through her nose, keeping her whimpers at bay, as she rolls her hips just slightly.

Neither of you speaks as you fuck into her. Your labored breaths and the slap of skin against skin are the only things breaking the silence between you. Natasha let’s out something akin to a hum whenever you hit a spot that sends shivers up her spine. You always manage to make her feel so good. You can tell she’s becoming used to the pace you’ve set and you want to switch things up. So you grip her hair instead, wrapping it up in your hands, as you begin to speed up your thrusts. This time Natasha can’t stop her moans as she slaps her hand against the counter. She’s trying to be as quiet as possible but when you’re fucking her like this how could she?

“Shit,” Natasha whispers. “Harder,” She begs as she uses both hands against the counter to meet you thrust for thrust. She pushes herself back when you move forward, pulls herself away when you do. If there’s one thing about Natasha it’s that she’s going to take all you give her. When you tug at her hair, it’s almost as if you can feel her clench around your cock, as you set a brutal pace. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Becomes a mantra that’s sweet on her tongue as she closes her eyes. Only you’re not satisfied with that and you tug again, earning a loud cry, as you slam your hips into her. Natasha loses her will to stand on her own, so you release her hair to keep both hands on her waist. This allows you to keep up with your pace, an unforgiving one, as Natasha bites her lip. If she gets any louder while out in the open someone will come and investigate.

“You gonna come for me?” You whisper to her. She nods, letting her forehead rest against the cool marble of the countertop, as she surrenders to you. “Tell me what you need?” You whisper and Natasha doesn’t hesitate to reach behind her to bring your hand around to her clit. She positions your fingers over her clit, directing your touch with her hands, as she whimpers again. You enjoy the feeling of her wetness against your fingers. You love the sounds she makes when her hips stutter just slightly when the pleasure becomes too much. Another swipe at her clit sends Natasha over the edge with your name on her lips. She presses against you harder, asking you not to stop, as she climaxes. Hard. You keep your fingers on her clit even though you don’t have much of a choice with her hand keeping you there. Finally, Natasha releases her grip and drops her hand to her side. You rub along her back, helping her come down, as you catch your breath.

“About those copyright issues,” You say jokingly as you pull out of Natasha carefully. The glistening of the cock makes you realize how wet she actually was. Fuck it’s a sight to see. Natasha pulls up her shorts, turning to you, to kiss you soundly before she does something you weren’t expecting. She drops to her knees, taking the phallus-shaped toy, into her hands, showing off her fresh manicure as she licks at the tip. “Tash?” You question and she only responds by opening her mouth to let the tip rest on her tongue.

Seeing that she’s getting no complaints from you, she takes your hand to place on top of her head, smirking when she notices you take a handful of her hair. You don’t know what it is but seeing her on her knees for you, taking you in her mouth, tasting herself as she opens her mouth wider. That almost makes you come on the spot. Natasha starts with slow sucking. Just to get a feel of how she likes it. She doesn’t do it often and you’re sure this show is for you but you wouldn’t complain one bit. Natasha moves her left hand to shift the base of the cock, the material rubbing at your clit, as you rock into her mouth. You don’t go any harder than she allows. You don’t want to hurt her despite what she said earlier.

Damn, she looks so pretty like this. Swallowing inch after inch. Her gag reflex stopped her from taking you any further and boy does she try. She encourages you to thrust into her mouth, exaggerating the choking sounds, as she breathes through her nose. The sounds, the look of complete joy on her face, the way she knows how to touch you. You thrust a bit harder, fucking her face, as Natasha continues to rub your clit through the material.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise and before you can stop yourself you’re going faster. Chasing that high. Giving Natasha’s hot wet mouth all you have. She hums in approval and you come just like that. Standing in the kitchen, your wife with her lips wrapped around your thick cock, as she holds one of your ass cheeks in her hands to encourage you to chase that pleasure. She releases you with a pop, a string of spit following her and dripping from her lips before she wipes it away.

Natasha looks up at you with those eyes and that smile playing against naturally pink lips. Fuck you want to fuck her again.

And you would. All night.

[revelinwritin]

okay but how about reader buying a big strap like maybe it’s even a bit too big because how could anyone ever take this? Impossible. and they don’t even really plan on using it on Natasha it’s just there for a bit of teasing and maybe to get the brat in nat under control but would she ever just let a toy that big sit around??? No, never. So you come home this one day and she’s laying on your bed - naked - and just whines for you to use the big strap on her… you are unsure at first, would she even be able to take it? But she just keeps on whining and eventually you try it out and holy shit it fits so well, Natasha stretches so nice around it and she moans so prettily… the perfect purchase

i'll do you one better

you come home to her actually using it. you're stuck between being angry at her for going at it alone, and stunned at the sight of pussy stretched around the toy like you've never seen before.

i'd say the shock gets the better of you.

the toy's about halfway in and she's whining already, hips bucking and begging for your help, which you can't resist giving.

you'll kneel between her legs and lean over to kiss her and replace her hand with yours, pulling the toy out a bit only to push it in a little further than before.

let me warn you- natasha gets loud when she's filled.

her fingers will dig into your shoulders, hard enough to leave more than obvious marks all over the skin, though you can't complain.

as she adjusts to the sheer size of it, you lose your patience, deciding to strap the toy to your hips instead and force nat on her hands and knees.

hand in her hair, toy deep in her pussy, it's a sight you'll never forget.

also, consider nat eventually getting overstimulated after so much attention to her clit as well as getting her hole stretched, she gets needy and whiny. collapsing on the bed onto her stomach, she reaches around to touch your skin, a plea to keep you close and on top of her, inside her.

[revelinwritin]

Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story Chapter 1

Natasha Romanoff x Black!Fem! Reader

Note: This is a repost from my since deactivated account Natsxaddiction. I will be adding the shorter stories to here; 20 chapters or less - sorry TLH fans =(

Chapter 1/20 (A completed story)

Summary: Natasha and Reader are married. They get into an accident where Natasha suffers serious injuries including amnesia. Natasha no longer remembers her life with reader and their children. All she remembers are her days loving Bruce.

W/c: 4.2k

There was doubt in her face. You could see she didn’t trust you. As she blinked rapidly to adjust to the harsh lights of the hospital room you could tell something was wrong. Your heart ached at the way her hands gripped the ventilator down her throat. It’s been helping her breathe for this long. Her eyes widened in panic as she clutched at the offending object. You placed a hand on top of hers hoping your familiar touch would be calming. Instead, you saw her flinch as her eyes flew to yours. There was something there that you hadn’t seen in a long time, if ever. Natasha was scared. She was terrified even. She doesn’t know who you are.

“Natasha, baby, don’t rip it out.” You say softly to her despite the lump in your throat. She’s shaking. She stops to look at you for a second before attempting to remove the tube again. You sigh and press the call button for a nurse or doctor. Natasha shakes her head, her eyes pleading for you to help her, as she attempts again. There’s a panic rising between the both of you for many different reasons. She doesn’t know who you are or where she is. You are coming to the realization that your wife may not remember you. You’re going to need an explanation and fast.

There’s a knock on the door and then a nurse with a tight bun and scrubs is entering the room. She gives you a soft smile before it disappears. Natasha is awake. She’s awake and she’s scared. She walks over to the IV hooked up to Natasha’s hand and inspects it.

“Hello, Mrs. Romanoff, you’re in New York-Presbyterian Lower Manhattan, you were in an accident,” The older lady explains to Natasha. For a second Natasha relaxes before she glances at you. How does she know she could trust either of you? “You suffered from a few injuries. Nothing you won’t recover from. I know you want this out and the doctor will be able to do that later. Are you in pain?” Natasha hesitates like you know she will. You can see the imperceptible way her hand twitches. She nods reluctantly. The nurse, Alicia, nods and administers more of the pain medicine that would allow Natasha to sleep peacefully and pain-free. You both wait with bated breath for the redhead to relax. She finally does and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“She’ll be fine, Mrs. Romanoff,” Alicia pats your arm sympathetically. You nod. You’re not so sure if that’s true.

You don’t mention Natasha’s panic at seeing you. You don’t mention the distant look in her eyes when she looked at you. As if you’ve never met. As if she’s never loved you. The stinging tears it brings to your eyes make you wonder if it’s your mind playing tricks on you. When she wakes up later you’ll know the truth.

It’s been exactly a week since the accident. You remember it as if it were yesterday. An idiot drunk driver collided with your car on the passenger side. The one that Natasha was on. Your car was completely destroyed though you don’t really care. You could buy another one. You couldn’t get another wife. The woman lying before you was…is your everything. While you and the drunk driver left the accident with minor injuries Natasha wasn’t so lucky. She retained a traumatic head injury resulting in a coma, one fractured rib, and a broken wrist. Somehow you feel lucky that she even recovered.

You had been on your way to your daughter’s very first dance recital. It was her first recital before Thanksgiving break. You were running late, driving through the roads with care, but still excited to see your baby girl dance. Natasha was buzzing with excitement and pride as she toyed with the radio from her seat. She was a bit annoyed by your tardiness but hadn’t said as much. Nothing could ruin the night, well except almost dying in a car accident. One that’s seemingly changed your life forever. Now you’re here in a hospital room with your wife asleep in a bed not knowing what will happen next.

You pull your phone from your pocket to send Melina another text. She and Alexei are keeping the girls for you. They’re Natasha’s parents that she gained from her mission from The Red Room. You let her know Natasha woke up. She replies with praise before telling you they will come to see you both as soon as they can. The girls miss their Mama just as much as you’ve missed your wife. This past week has been hell. No one knew when Natasha would wake up. If she would wake up.

You could only hope to move past this now that she has.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and pray that Natasha wakes up again.

*****************

You don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until you hear the rustling of the bed. Natasha’s awake. Your eyes snap open to watch her. She struggles for a bit before dropping her hands against the bed. She’s given up on trying to take the tube out though you’re sure she could if she truly wanted. You lean over to put yourself in her line of eyesight.

“Natasha,” Green eyes meet yours. She furrows a brow. She clearly wants to ask you something. “Hey, I don’t know how much you remember about what the nurse told you but you’re in the hospital.” You gently tell her about what’s happened to her. She listens with rapt attention before her eyes scan the room. She lifts her uninjured hand to scratch at the tube before she drops it again. Her red-painted nails press firmly against the sheets. “I can call someone to take it out for you.” You don’t wait for an answer, not that she can. You grab the call button to press it. “Someone will be here soon.” You sit in silence until Alicia makes her appearance again.

Alicia slowly helps Natasha to remove the ventilator. Your eyes fly to the ground to avoid seeing her in so much pain. You can hear the small grunt of pain she emits though Natasha quickly tries to hide it. You glance up again to find that Alicia is putting Natasha through a swallowing evaluation. The water that’s been waiting by her bedside is given to her. Natasha swallows harshly before sitting back against the raised bed.

“Where’s everyone?” Natasha rasps. She clutches her throat again before looking around.

“Your throat may be a little raw, take it easy,” Alicia explains. “Your wife would be happy to tell you where everyone is. She hasn’t left your side this entire time.” Natasha glances at you. She’s sporting a look of confusion.

“Wife?” That one seriously hurts and she looks to the nurse for assistance. “I’m not married. Whatever sick joke this is I will find out.” There’s an edge in her tone. She’s almost menacing. “Who sent you?” Her next words are directed towards you. You’re aware she’s fighting the pain in her throat to ask you this.

“No one sent me, Natasha.” You say firmly. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because I’m your wife.” Natasha shakes her head. You raise your hand to place it over hers and she snatches it away as if she’s been burned.

“Where’s Bruce?” She asks. Bruce? You haven’t seen that man in years. Why was she asking about him? “Where’s Steve? Who. Sent. You?” She asks again. She’s not buying anything you’re telling her.

“Natasha-”

“How about we give Mrs- Ms. Romanoff a minute,” Alicia suggests. Something angers you about the slip-up. She’s asking you to leave the room. It’s clear Natasha needs a minute and as much as you’d like to stay you know you need one too. “I’ll be out there soon to talk to you.” You nod dejectedly. You rush out of the room to throw yourself against the wall. Your breaths come harsher as you try to figure out what that was in there. The look in her eyes. The way she talked to you. You’re almost sure if she had one there would be a knife to your throat.

You’re just about to send a message to Melina to tell her not to bring the kids today when Alicia interrupts you. You put your phone away before you can finish the message.

“It seems that Mrs. Romanoff doesn’t remember a few key details about herself,” Alicia informs you. “I’m going to have to call Dr. Brent in here to assess her further.”

“Does she have amnesia or something?” You question. Alicia frowns.

“I can’t really say but it may appear so.” She can see the scared look on your face. What would that mean for you? What would that mean for Natasha? For the girls? You let out another harsh breath.

You can tell Alicia wants to comfort you but you barely know her. Her job extends to Natasha’s care and she’s done that and more. You thank her. You wait for her to walk away before turning back to Natasha’s room. The doctor would be here as soon as he could. In the meantime, you have to try and deal with things.

You prepare yourself with a deep breath and a shake of your hands to rid yourself of the nerves. You almost felt ridiculous. This was your wife for goodness sake. The one you’ve spent six and a half happy years with. You knock gently, deciding against barging in when you’re surprised by the sight in front of you. Natasha is standing from the bed, and clearly in pain, searching for her clothes.

“Nat, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You say. She doesn’t even bat an eye as she continues to put on her pants. You’re not sure how she’s even found them but that doesn’t matter now. You step a bit closer to her, bracing your hand behind her back in case she falls, and again you plead for her to sit down. “Natasha, you’re hurt.” You tell her.

“It would be better for you to let me leave now before the team finds you,” Natasha mutters. She’s in such a different headspace. One she hasn’t been in for a while and you’re a bit unsure how to get through to her thick head. Something angers you about the way she winces when she tugs the pants onto her hips. Her ribs haven’t healed yet and she shouldn’t be walking until the doctor assesses her.

“Natalia, sit down now.” Your voice is low and firm. It’s one you’ve only ever reserved for the bedroom but at this moment you know it’s gotten to her. She pauses to look over at you. You used her birth name. She eyes you and for a moment you think she’s going to listen.

“Who do you think you are?” She frowns.

“Your god damned wife, Natasha.” You say exasperatedly. Before she can protest you continue. “I’m not some spy sent to kill you. I’m not a member of the Red Room and I’m not working against you. I’m an Avenger. I’ve seen you through your worst and dammit it may be worse than this if you don’t sit down and allow your ribs to heal.” Natasha blinks slowly. You’re prepared to fight her on this. She sits slowly and you can see the pain etched across her features. There’s something akin to regret on her face as she tries to shift into a comfortable position. You move towards her without realizing it as your hands grip her hips to help her onto the bed. She doesn’t push you away this time but you can feel how she tenses under your fingers.

You move back to find she’s eyeing you questioningly.

“You don’t have to believe me but please, don’t hurt yourself trying to run away.” She’s shocked now. “I can call Tony or Steve if you want and they can come here.” You try again.

“And Bruce?” She asks quietly. You’d left his name out on purpose.

“And Bruce.” You sigh. You’re not really going to call him but you needed her to calm down.

Natasha’s forest-green eyes scan your face. She’s trying to remember you. She can’t and she’s frustrated by this. Despite your firmness, you’re being kind to her. She doesn’t know your angle or motive. You don’t move as she continues to rack her brain for memories of you. It’s painful to see that she can’t find a single one.

There’s another knock at the door that breaks her from her trance. Both of you turn to look at Dr. Brent as he enters. He’s 6’2, blonde, and blue eyes rivaling McDreamy’s. He comes into the room with a soft smile.

“Hello, Natasha, I’m Dr. Brent I’ve been the one looking over your case for the past week,” He introduces himself to her. “I am under the impression that you’re a bit unclear about what’s happened?”

“Bingo,” Natasha quips and you resist the urge to snort. Despite the situation, she’s resorting to her usual sarcastic nature.

“Okay, I’m going to run a series of tests to assess the situation for an answer.” He says. He puts on gloves and steps over to the opposite side of Natasha. You move to hold her hand only to stop yourself. Natasha hates doctors and needles and pretty much anything to do with hospitals. You know how stressful it can be for her but you’re not sure if you should touch her. You’re afraid of setting her off.

He assesses Natasha’s pupils, her heart rate, her ability to remember commonly known facts. When he asks her to repeat a series of words he asked her minutes ago she does so with a hint of boredom. You watch in trepidation as he moves on to asking her about the last thing she remembers.

“It was during Ultron,” Natasha says. “Some robot Tony created went rogue so we needed to hide out.” She’s keeping out a few key details.

You know from the times she’s told you that she and the rest of the OG members took cover at Clint’s farmhouse. It was there she also suggested to Bruce that they run away together. It wasn’t her finest moment though you doubt she thinks that now. Dr. Brent takes down a few notes and promises to take a look over her brain scans.

“What does it look like doctor?”

Dr. Brent glances at Natasha.

“Don’t hold back, Doc, she’s my wife, remember. Anything you say in front of her you can say in front of me.” You don’t like the way Natasha throws out that line so easily. Like she doesn’t believe it. Like she doesn’t care about your feelings at all. To her, she doesn’t.

“It looks like a form of retrograde amnesia. Usually this type is when you can recall recent events and not things from years ago. For Natasha, it seems that she can’t remember her life from the past few years at all. Her recent is not as we think.” He explains. Natasha frowns. She doesn’t believe any of this that’s going on.

“And when would she get her memories back?” You ask. You’re afraid of the answer.

“Only time will tell.” Dr. Brent informs you. “There is no cure. As her brain heals there may be memories that come back piece by piece or she may not get them back at all. What we can do is be patient. Remind her of the time, date, and place. Treat her with kindness.” You nod. You could do that.

“When can I go home?” Natasha asks loudly.

“Once we’re done running the tests I see no reason why you can’t go home in the next few days. For now, we need you to sit tight and allow your body to heal.”

Natasha Romanoff sitting tight? Ha! Natasha was a busy body. She was always on even when you weren’t. She rarely allowed herself to recover from her injuries and you’re sure this won’t be any different.

“Thank you, Doctor.” You say. This would certainly be a trying task.

The Doctor finishes up a few more tests with a promise to come back later to check up on both of you.

“Are you hungry?” You ask her. Natasha’s pout and folded arms don’t hide the fact that she wants to say yes. She shakes her head no. “Can you bring up the lunch meal?” You direct your question to Alicia. She nods and quickly exits the room. There’s a silence between the two of you. Natasha is watching the exit closely while you watch her. You’re not really sure what to do or say.

“You must be curious.” You break the silence.

“About?” Natasha tilts her head.

“Everything,” You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your jeans. Natasha’s eyes rake your body in interest. Amnesia or not she’s attracted to you.

Natasha opens her mouth to speak but is interrupted by a swing of the door opening. You curse at the lost opportunity of her opening up. You panic when you realize exactly who has interrupted. All you see is a flash of brown hair as they whip past you. Before you can stop her, your daughter is climbing onto the bed to settle on Natasha’s lap.

“Mama!” Olivia cheers. She bounces in place as she inspects Natasha. “You’re not sleeping anymore.” Olivia smiles.

“Mama! Mama! Up.” The other little one is not too far behind as she walks into the room with Melina and Alexei hot on her heels. She races to the other side of the bed, raising her arms towards Natasha, and looks up at her expectantly. You can see the rising panic in the other woman as she places her hands against her chest to keep from touching Olivia. You don’t know if it’s more distressing for her to see her parents or her children. You choose to diffuse one situation before the other.

“We’re very sorry, Y/n, we tried to call you before but they were so excited to hear that she was awake.” Melina has the decency to look guilty.

“Why isn’t she talking?” Olivia asks. Her big brown eyes blink up at you. Natasha opens and closes her mouth like a fish out of water. You move swiftly to remove her from Natasha’s lap to place her on her own two feet.

“Liv, remember how Mama was hurt in the crash and she hit her head?” You kneel to be on her level. Olivia nods glancing at Natasha. “Well, she still has to get better so we need to give her a bit more time. I know you and Lily are excited to see her but it’s still a bit much for her.”

Olivia may be young but she’s not stupid. She nods dejectedly. She knows this means they would have to leave. You can see her bottom lip tremble as tears threaten to fall.

“Hey, hey, little mouse, it’s going to be just fine, we just need to give Mama some time.”

“But I miss her,” Olivia frowns. There’s going to be a lot of tears if you don’t think fast.

“They can stay,” Natasha is the voice to speak. You give her a surprised look before she nods. You thank her silently before turning back to Olivia.

“Mama says you can stay but you have to be gentle.” You tug a still excited Lily into your embrace so that she’s aware of what you’re saying. You move your hands in a series of motions. She still has a pacifier pressed into her mouth but she says a meek yes around it.

“They need to leave,” Natasha says. She says it with such finality. She’s referring to Melina and Alexei. You look over to them apologetically and Melina raises a hand. She knows it’s not the time to be pleading her case with Natasha. Not when she’s this delicate.

“I’ll bring them out to you when we’re done.” You inform them. They nod and leave the room.

Olivia turns back to Natasha. This time unsure of herself. Your heart breaks as you realize she doesn’t know what to do. Natasha has never reacted to them in this way. Everything is riding on her as she looks over to the girls.

“You can climb up here, Myshka.” Natasha encourages her. She’s caught onto the nickname you used for the little girl. Olivia looks to you for reassurance. You give her a nod. She slowly climbs into the bed and settles on Natasha’s side. Natasha is a bit out of her element but she doesn’t flinch away this time.

“Mama, you’re okay?” Olivia asks.

“I’m okay,” Natasha confirms. She’s a natural actress and can put on a front for the kids. Even if she doesn’t remember them she doesn’t want to hurt them.

“I thought you died and left us,” Olivia says. Natasha looks to you for help.

“Mama is fine,” You assure her. Olivia fiddles with her fingers before looking her over again.

“When can you come home?”

“After the doctor has checked her,” You say.

“Mama,” Lily whines from your arms. She gives you the sign for ‘want’ before stretching her arms out for Natasha. Natasha opens her arms and allows Lily to fall into them. She brushes a hand over her curls, exposing the cochlear implant, she inspects it before looking at you. You’ll explain it to her later. Lily settles in her arms happily. If Natasha is feeling any pain she hides it so she doesn’t startle them.

“We drew pictures for you,” Olivia informs her. “And we also stayed with Nana and Pop-Pop.” She begins to tell Natasha about her entire week. Natasha listens with rapt attention. Though she doesn’t remember them her motherly instinct is strong. It has always been.

“Oh yeah?” Natasha asks. She’s genuinely interested in what the little girl has to say. She’s somehow multitasking as she listens to Olivia while keeping Lily from pulling at the fabric of her gown. You cringe. In your haste to get them to settle for her, you weren’t expecting this. Lily is asking to nurse. Something you’re one hundred percent sure Natasha isn’t comfortable with. Natasha catches on, redirecting Lily’s tiny hand into her own.

Lily sighs, clearly frustrated, but resigns to laying her head against Natasha’s chest. It’s another hour before they fall asleep in her arms. Natasha hasn’t moved an inch since then. You’re sure this can’t be comfortable.

“Is it true?” Natasha asks. She sounds different. Not like earlier. She’s afraid of the answer. She wants to believe that the little girls in her arms are hers.

“Yes,” You confirm. “They’re yours. Ours.” You correct yourself.

She’s afraid to ask the next question but she finds her voice.

“How?”

“A human trafficking bust in Brazil,” You start. “It had been going on for years until we got to them. The only reason we were asked to step in was that the facility somehow kept going under the radar for S.H.I.E.L.D. They were using the kids for experiments and pretty much everything else.” You know she’ll understand the implications of that. You clear your throat. “Their mother, she was seventeen, had just given birth to Lily, and was holding onto a starving Olivia when you found her. It’s why she’s still so small.” Natasha brushes her fingers across Olivia’s now chubby cheeks. Olivia’s eyelashes flutter but she never opens her eyes. “You tried to save her too but she died before we could get her to a hospital. All of the other children were saved but you wouldn’t let go of these two. Lily was just a few days old and Olivia was just shy of her second birthday. You pleaded with me to keep them and we signed the adoption papers as soon as we could.” Natasha raises her head for the first time. Throughout the entire story, she’s been staring at them in awe. Like she doesn’t believe it.

“We found out Lily suffered from severe hearing loss due to an infection.” Natasha glances at her ears. “ I know it’s a lot to take in but I’m not lying to you. I wouldn’t. Not about this.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears that she quickly tried to hide.

“How old are they now?” She finds herself asking.

“Olivia is three almost four and Lily is eighteen months.” You inform her. They’re so young and not understanding of their world yet. Not understanding the gravity of Natasha’s amnesia.

“I don’t remember.” She frowns. “I don’t remember any of it.” She’s becoming upset.

“Nat, it’s okay, we can figure it out.” You try to keep her calm. “We can figure it out just please bear with me.” You plead for her. “You don’t have to believe I’m your wife. You don’t have to believe that any of this is real. Just don’t run away. Don’t hide.” Don’t try to find Bruce you want to add but you keep it to yourself. She nods tiredly.

“Melina and Alexei are here,” She says suddenly.

“They are,” You reply.

“I haven’t seen them since I was eleven years old,” Natasha whispers brokenly. She looks down at the girls sleeping peacefully in her arms. You say nothing. “I’m not leaving them.” She says resolutely.

You believe her. What does this mean for the future?

[revelinwritin]

what about discovering that nat like it rough for the first time like we're usually very patient but one time we just snap and even before we try apologizing nat says something like "you should do that more often" and we're just like 😳😈

18+ content

oof

maybe it's after a fight- the make up sex.

it's more passionate, sure. it's your way of getting out any anger left over but it's also close enough to a reconnecting ritual

you don't want to wait, you just want her on her hands and knees already, and when you slip your fingers past her underwear and feel how much she wants you too, you lose patience

you flip her over, not even bothering to take her panties off and just shoving them to the side instead. the thought of you being so impatient makes her whine under you, which only prompts you to slip two fingers inside her from the back, unable to take any more time not being inside her

you'll end up locating the strap soon enough and she begs for it like you've never seen, eyes pleading and almost tearful as she whimpers for you to hurry up

you lose patience with her brattiness, pushing her into the mattress and filling her with the toy quickly just like she asked, no, begged

she's lay on her stomach on the bed with the rest of her over the side, perfect for you to grab her hips hard and start fucking into her. she's gripping the sheets, trying to keep herself from being too loud (not that you mind, of course). all she can mutter is pleas and begs for you to fuck her harder, or faster

her begging earns her something you've never done before now- spanking. the first one you deliver isn't too harsh, you're still mindful of her and her limits regardless of what they are, but when she lets out a deliciously low groan and plea for you to hit her harder, you switch

"is this how you want it, huh? you want me to fuck you so good you can't walk? tell me what you want, sweetheart. beg for it."

[revelinwritin]

oh man i dont know if you already done this, but SHOWERSEX with Nat ;)

18+ content.

(also i apologise for briefly disappearing again. it's bank holiday weekend in the uk and i've been on auntie duty the whole time)

"Well this might be my favourite morning sight."

Natasha has her back turned and doesn't see you come in, and your voice startles her for a brief second before she turns her head towards you, a smirk appearing on her lips complimented by a playful eye-roll.

"Are you gonna join me or are you just going to stand over there and stare at me for twenty minutes?"

You huff a laugh, ridding yourself of everything you're wearing as you make your way over to her.

You slide an arm around her waist and bring your other hand to the side of her neck, pulling her into an ardent kiss immediately. With a quiet whimper against your lips, she pulls you closer to allow you to trap her between yourself and the wall of the shower, slipping a thigh between her legs.

You break the kiss reluctantly, but your mouth finds her nipple instead and her hands fly to your hair, tangling to pull at it a little.

Natasha rolls her neck back, her head resting against the shower wall as your mouth descends down her abdomen with littered kisses. You're on your knees in front of her, and already she's hitched a leg up to rest on your shoulder.

She smirks, rubbing her thumb across your cheek. "Please."

You dart your tongue out to wet your lips, and then pressing them to the inside her thigh. Your fingers dig into pale flesh and you suck the skin of her inner thigh against your teeth, desperate to leave the marks you know she craves.

When your tongue finds her clit, her breath hitches and her grip in your hair tightens, holding you in place. Though, moving is probably the last thing you'd think about doing when you're got your face between her legs.

She's wet, warm, familiar. Your tongue slips over her and she moans lowly in her throat, pulling harder at your hair. You know what she wants, you can read her oh so easily. It's obvious. You catch her eye and refuse to break contact with her. Instead, you move your hand so you can slip a finger, and then two, inside her.

Natasha gasps, her hips meeting you every time you pull your fingers out and push them back into hot, velvety heat and curl. She's getting louder now, the faster your fingers move. The faster your tongue slides over her clit. You feel her clenching around every movement inside her and it makes you lose control, desperate to make her fall apart and watch.

"Don't stop, don't stop, please." Gasping, panting, the grip on your hair, Natasha falls to pieces across your mouth and around your fingers. "Please...fuck. Fuck."

"Good girl." You grin. Another curl of your fingers. Another gasp from Natasha. "My good girl. I want you to give me another."

[revelinwritin]

Rewatching black widow has led to the conclusion that in the scene in Norway where Nat is watching the movie in her trailer, that woman is entirely just in a shirt and underwear.

norway nat is a favourite of mine, here is another lil taste of my brain. did someone order dirty talk? she's not wearing underwear this time

Nat emerges from the bathroom, quietly pottering down the hall to where you're half-lay on the couch with a book in your hands and a blanket over your lap.

She's wearing your shirt this time, you note. It makes you smile softly at her as she reaches you, taking the book from your hands and setting it aside. You know what she's after, her intentions clear when she straddles your lap and presses her lips feather light against your neck.

"I like when you wear my clothes." You mutter. Your hands find her hips, sliding down her thighs.

She sighs at the touch, humming at your words as she continues trailing her lips across your skin.

"This shirt is mine now, actually."

You grin, raking your nails lightly across her thighs. You hear a soft sigh against your neck, where her lips still linger. It makes you shiver.

"That's a shame," you note. Your hands roam, grabbing a handful of her ass in one and sliding the other over her hip. "I like fucking you when you're wearing my clothes."

Her breath catches, and she sinks her teeth into your collarbone, pulling at the skin with her teeth. She knows it makes you weak.

"But I suppose it'll do."

She groans against you when you grip her hip tighter, running your thumb over the bone and attempting to pull her closer yet.

"I was thinking about you in the shower," she murmurs. "I can't get you out of my head."

"Is that so?" You chuckle, grinning. "What exactly were you thinking of in there?"

Her hips are at your neck again, but firmer this time. Your skin's on fire. You might know very well how to make her weak, but you know it goes both ways. Her lips are hot, mouth wet, hips moving on top of you where she's seated. Fuck. You can't get enough of her.

Nat's moving up your neck, to your ear where she nips gently at it and whispers, "how badly I want your fingers in me."

Fuck.

You tangle your fingers through her hair, pulling her back gently for her to look at you. "They feel so good. I love the way I feel so full when you're inside me like that."

Releasing a low hum of appreciation, you attach your lips to her neck, biting softly until she emits that beautiful, soft whine you're used to when you find the spot that makes her tick. She isn't about to dance around and play games tonight, no, she's telling you what she wants and you'd be downright stupid to deny it from her.

"So is it a coincidence that it's one of my favourite things?" One hand remains in her hair, the other at her hip still, but this time encouraging her movements in your lap. "I just love how wet you get for me."

You litter kisses across her jaw.

"How you grab at my wrist when I've got my fingers in you. It's how I know you never want me to stop."

She moans. Soft. Your favourite sound. You know you're already driving her crazy and you couldn't be happier about it.

Your trail kisses up to her ear, lowering your voice to a whisper. "How hard it is for me to move when you're about to come around my fingers."

Natasha closes her eyes, clenching around nothing. God, she needs them. Desperately. She knows it, and she knows you know it. Both of her hands rest on either side of your neck, holding herself. Your voice, the eye contact, it makes her knees weak.

She rests her forehead against yours, breathing louder than she'd want to when the hand on her hip glides across her inner thigh. It's inching higher, and even though neither of you can count the amount of times you'd done this, the suspense is killing her. It somehow, always feels like the first time.

You kiss her hard. It's laced with want, need, love, passion, everything that makes her heart soar and a fire light in her stomach. She knows she's already embarrassingly wet, she has been since jumping out of the shower. But now, with your voice in her ear and your hands everywhere, Natasha knows she's a mess. She can feel it.

You can too, even without touching her between her legs yet. Your fingers rest at the top of her inner thigh, but you can feel the heat from her still. And as much as you love teasing her, hearing her pleas and begs, you want her. There's an overwhelming urge to just give her everything, so you do.

Your fingers graze her clit and her hips buck in surprise. She's so sensitive it's driving your crazy. She can't keep herself still. As soon as you make contact, she's rotating her hips for pressure from your fingers.

"God, fuck, that feels so good." She whimpers, pressing her lips to yours again. It's hungry, desperate and all-consuming. She needs you, and you know it.

She rests her forehead against your shoulder while you make slow, lazy circles across her clit. God, she's wet. You gather slick with your fingers and she groans when you meet her clit again. She's more and more sensitive by the minute, and the debate in your head of keeping her waiting or just giving her what she wants is a constant battle.

Her lips against your ear again, this time already breathless at the heat between the two of you that's come seemingly from nowhere. An hour ago you were playing a board game quietly, laughing to each other while some movie played in the background that neither of you were paying any attention to. Yet now, she was sat on top of you, cunt leaking and silently begging you to take her.

What makes you break though, is the one thing she knows full well makes you the weakest.

A final, soft bite at your ear lobe, and with her voice low, thick with arousal. "Please, baby."

Your eyes close, thighs clenching. Your other hand finds her hip, pulling her tight against your body. The fingers across her clit stop, but almost no time passes before you slip two of them inside her.

The moan in your ear is everything to you. It's pleasure, fireworks, lustful. Filthy.

Being inside her is like nothing else, especially when she clenches to get you deeper, keeping you inside because as she said herself, it's her favourite thing. You think it's yours too. Except of course, her whimpers directly in your ear, but they go hand in hand usually.

"Yes, yes, just like that."

You pull her to face you again, demanding eye contact while your fingers hit just where she needs them. Her hips move in rhythm, and fuck she doesn't know how it's always so unbelievably perfect feeling you inside her, your fingers curling, or thrusting languidly.

Her pupils are blown, and she smirks when she sees yours. She knows she's making you crazy.

"You're such a wreck, pretty girl, is this what you've been thinking about?"

She nods quickly, a god, yes, falling from her lips in a whine to answer you verbally.

"Touch yourself for me."

She smirks again, freeing a hand from your neck and trailing it down her stomach to her own clit. The moan is exquisite, and you're certain now you've ruined your own underwear. You can feel the wetness pool and your clit throb at the sight in front of you. Your stomach drops.

Natasha looks radiant like this, moving on two of your fingers and rubbing gentle, languid circles across her own clit. Your fingers curl and she throws her head back, neck exposed to you. You take the opportunity to attach to that spot again, suckling softly and grazing your teeth across it. You want to leave a mark, it's her favourite place and you both know it.

It makes her whimpers louder than before. It's all so good, every part of it. She can't get enough, and neither can you.

You fuck into her with your fingers, feeling the soft, spongy area that makes her collapse into you when you crook your digits. She's loud now, you know she's close already. You speed up your movements and she grips hard at the back of your neck with her free hand.

The movements across her clit are faster now, and you're in awe watching her make herself come for you. She can't wait any longer, that's obvious, but it's still as though she's waiting for permission.

"You gonna make yourself come for me, baby, hm? You gonna come around my fingers for me?" Your voice is low, laced with desire. God, she's yearning for it, her fingers moving faster. She's clenching around you, so hard you can barely move, just like you love to feel.

"Fuck, yes," she sobs. "I'm gonna come for you. Fuck-"

You feel it. Her body stiffens, mouth agape in silence, eyes still locked with yours until they roll back and her hips snap.

"Okay, baby, okay." You soothe her softly, the grip on her hip loosening and the fingers between her legs slow, guiding her back to reality. "I've got you."

She breathes heavy against your neck where she's collapsed against you. Her hips have slowed. Her quiet moans through her breathing are still there, though, because despite everything you're still inside her, and she's not about to forget that quickly.

"I came so fucking hard," she breathes, chest heaving. "I-christ."

"Mmhmm." You move your fingers slightly, and her hips jump against your hand. She's beautifully sensitive. "I know you did, sweetheart, I had a front row seat."

She laughs softly, moving finally. She brings her lips to yours, kissing your deep, slow. Her tongue brushes yours and you moan quietly against her lips. "Think you can handle an encore?"

[revelinwritin]

overstimming bottom!nat

i love the image of her thighs shaking like crazy, jaw slack, strands of red hair smeared across her forehead. she'll be panting between breaths of begs and pleas, and your name too probably

she loves the feeling of your mouth when she's overstimulated. it's soft, hot, familiar. nat's sensitive and squirming, and you do your best to hold her hips down tight against the mattress

oh, and the mess she'll make too- christ. i'm talking filthy, leaking all over your mouth, and your fingers when you decide to introduce her to them when her hazy mind has forgot and focused on your tongue. god, she tastes good too. and you'll tell her so. she might have the decency to blush, but you're more likely to get a smirk out of her

imagine having her tied to the bed actually as well. like, hands and legs all tied to different bed posts. she's spread out for you on the bed, clit pulsing, needy and clenching around nothing. just waiting for you because she knows, show knows you're not finished with her yet

also; using your fingers for a while too. laying between her legs, filling her with three fingers and watching as you fuck her slowly, watching her reactions but staring as your fingers split her too. one of the hottest sights you think, especially paired with the gorgeous, soft groans she releases when your fingers push in

one of your favourite things about her being tied down and overstimmed and quite literally shaking is the fact that even when she thinks she's done, you can always persuade her to give you one more with gentle pleas, lots of praise and some coaching

"i know you can cum again baby, i can feel you around me"

"good girl, c'mon, just one more for me"

[revelinwritin]

can you please write daddy nat just fucking reader into oblivion everywhere 😩

daddy nat would fuck you brainless in every corner of the house at every hour, especially if she has you on a breeding schedule. you’re busy? who cares, she needs to have her balls deep in you. strong hands throw everything off the surface and starts to pistol into you. around the house you’re always in only baby pink panties, she obviously picked them up for you, one of her large shirt too big for you in order to reach your breasts easily.

do you think that’s all it? no. daddy nat clearly has to try every damn spot to fuck you dumb. it doesn’t matter anymore where, her main goal is to breed you and claim her holes: the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, the living room, the pool, the backyard, the floor, once also in the garage and so on and on.

her favourite place you wonder? the bed. why? rather than be comfortable for both of you, she can pin you down and fucking you raw like an animal and breeding you into a mating press. however, her favourite spot is also by the window. she pins you there and fucks you into the oblivion so everyone can see how a slut you are. thick cock in your tiny pussy, white cream drooling out your thighs and tits jiggling into her hold. you belong to her and she’s much happily to show everyone.

daddy nat clearly doesn’t stop at every corner of the house. she’s obsessed with car sex. having her cock deep in your throat as she drives is her guilty pleasure. having you seated on the passenger seat like a princess while her free hand pump into your tight hole, throwing you in the backseat to watch you jump on her cock or even pinning you down to pistoling into your cunt.

the car isn’t her limit either. she fucked you dumb once also into a changing room at the store. it was breeding time and god forbid her if she miss it, it was necessary she said. she made you seat on her lap facing the big mirror to force to look you reflex at how good you take her massive cock, how your only job is to please her and how much of a cock whore you are for her. her hand sadly was on your mouth, but let’s just say that the skin slapping and she squelching sound of your pussy and her dick meeting, let you have a consumer complaint either way.

your daddy thought it was a waist to not let you scream her name at that point, she definitely will come back to give everyone a show next time. and you didn’t even say a word, why wouldn’t you? in the end you’re always happy to be stuffed full everywhere from your daddy.

[revelinwritin]

Let's run away

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: it's your wedding day and you can't be seen with Natasha

Masterlist

“Y-you shouldn't be here,” you pant, bare shoulders digging into the wall you're pressed against. “She'll be back any moment, you need to leave.”

Natasha hums against your neck, nibbling and sucking gently enough not to leave a mark. You bite back a moan, arching in her hold, the corset of your wedding dress making your breath short.

“I'm serious, Nat. You can't be here.” You try to push her away, guilt settling in your chest.

You glance in the mirror - your hair is tousled, tresses falling from the immaculate bun, and your makeup is smudged, Natasha's lipstick smeared all over the lower half of your face, your lips painted two different colors after all of the bruising kisses.

“Let's run away,” she whispers, pulling away just enough for you to hear her, “just the two of us, far away from here.”

You close your eyes, wanting nothing more. But you know you can't.

“You need to go.” You firmly push her away, adopting a serious expression. “Wanda-” you gasp when she lowers her lips to the sensitive spot behind your ear, before sucking on your earlobe, “Wanda can't see you, not here.”

She sighs, resting her forehead against your shoulder. You hold her close, savoring the moment.

“We have ten minutes before-”

Natasha jumps away at the new voice, her face growing paler than your dress. She looks almost scared.

“You.” Wanda's voice drops dangerously low, her expression furious. She glances at you for a second, taking in your ruffled appearance and lipstick stains on your neck and face - a flicker of red swirls in her eyes at that. You gulp, torn between trying to explain yourself and simply letting it all blow out.

“Wanda…”

“Don't Wanda me!” She screeches, pushing a finger into your chest before turning on her heels and advancing on Natasha. “Do you know how long it took me to get her hair to stay in that bun?!” She starts, and you close your eyes, cringing. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to make her stay in this room and not come searching for you?” Natasha looks away, biting on her bottom lip to keep in a smug smile. “Not to mention the fact that you're not supposed to see each other at all! It's bad luck!”

She finally takes a breath, you can almost see the steam around her head. You do feel a little guilty having messed up your best friend's hard work, but it was worth it - you haven't seen Natasha since yesterday.

“We're very sorry,” you mutter, your lips stretched in a smile.

She snorts, lips pursed in a frail attempt to hide her own smile. “Get back in the chair, we have-” she glances at the clock “- eight minutes left! You're lucky I love you both,” she grumbles, rummaging around her makeup purse.

Natasha carefully steps around her and presses one last kiss on your waiting lips. “I'll see you at the altar,” she whispers, beaming.

“See you at the altar,” you giggle, stealing another kiss for good measure.

[revelinwritin]

The mustache

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Natasha crashes your date

Masterlist

You let a fake laugh bubble out of your mouth for what feels like a hundredth time this evening. Your date looks smug, her eyes trailing over your form, almost leering. She takes a sip of her wine and licks her lips slowly, daring you to look.

You don't.

You can almost hear Natasha say I told you so.

You clear your throat and take another bite of a perfectly made steak - the only saving grace of this disastrous date.

You mentally cringe, closing your eyes briefly. Objectively, the date is going well - she showed up on time, held the door for you, helped you to your seat and made perfect small talk, occasionally throwing in a joke or two. You can excuse her wandering eyes, knowing you've been throwing mixed signals all evening.

You nod along to whatever story she's telling, smiling and chuckling when it's appropriate. You barely resist the urge to excuse yourself. You chew on your lower lip, wondering how you allowed yourself to get in such a mess.

Your phone chimes once, screen lightning up with a new notification.

Natasha.

Yep. Here's your answer.

You look at your date, hating how different her smile is from your best friends. It's too large, too open and not even half as genuine. Natasha's smiles are small, barely noticeable, but they're enough to make your breath come short.

You sigh. You need to stop comparing your every date to Natasha.

“Do you mind if I take a look? It might be important,” you ask, reaching for your phone. She nods happily, waving the waiter over for another glass of wine.

How bad is it?

You snort, coughing immediately to cover up the sound and reaching for your glass.

Another message appears right in front of your eyes.

That bad?

You choke on your wine, discreetly looking around, but coming up short.

Six o'clock, dumbass.

You wait a moment and look right behind you, mouth falling open when you finally see her.

She's sitting three tables down, wearing your favorite hoodie and a black cap. With sunglasses covering her eyes. In a dimly lit restaurant. What makes you let out a strangled laugh, though, is a perfect old fashioned mustache glued right under her nose. She twirls both ends around her fingers, curling them up, before lowering her glasses and sending you an exaggerated wink.

The best spy in the world, the woman who made entire governments collapse, is sitting right behind you, looking like a child playing dress up.

You whip around, your face red, and wave off your date's concerned look. “I'm alright.”

She nods, all too happy to continue talking about all of the famous people she's met through her job.

You hide your phone under the table and shoot your best friend a text.

You're ridiculous

Her reply comes instantly.

And yet you love me.

Her words hit a little too close to home.

You are hopelessly in love with your best friend.

Another message comes through.

What's wrong?

You frown, eyes darting around. You didn't even do anything to warrant the question.

And don't even try to lie. I can tell something's wrong.

You sigh, tell Natasha everything is fine, and place your phone face down on the table, your date still recounting a story of how she met some actress.

The next half an hour is tense. You can feel Natasha's eyes on you. You can hear her plotting a way to get you out of here, but you know you have to at least try to make it work, if not with… Connie? Courtney? Then with someone else, before you go completely mad.

Your phone rings. You can't stop yourself from picking it up.

“Sorry, it’s an emergency.” Your excuse sounds bad even to your own ears, and you wince when your date pointedly looks away with pursed lips.

“Do you want me to throw her out of the window?” She starts without a preamble. “If not, I have a knife in my boot and you know how good I am with knives.”

“Can't you handle it without me?” You ask, knowing Natasha will play along. Your date reaches for her purse, dejected. Guilt swirls in your chest, and you contemplate your next words. Maybe you should stay and-

“Don't feel bad, she's been looking at the blonde to your right since she came in,” Natasha drawls, “and no, I can't handle it without you. I need you back home.”

You blush, biting on your lower lip.

“I'm sorry, but there's been an-”

“Just go,” your date cuts you off, “I'll handle the bill.” Her eyes are on the blonde girl before she's done speaking, and you leave with your conscience clear.

Natasha catches up to you outside and leads you to her corvette - her sunglasses and cap are gone, but that ridiculous mustache is still in place.

“What do you think?” She asks as she opens the door for you before going around the car and taking a seat behind the wheel. “I like the look.”

You snort and shake your head, amused with your best friend's antics. “It's… something.”

She rolls her eyes, starting the engine. “I know you love it.”

You hum, relaxing against the soft leather, your worries stoved away by Natasha's calming presence.

“Why do you keep going on dates if you hate it so much?” She asks when you reach Compound gates.

You sigh, think of an answer that would get her off your back without making her suspicious.

“I just… I-” you stutter, wincing.

Great.

She raises an eyebrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but so, so beautiful, it makes your entire chest ache.

The car comes to a stop, and Natasha focuses all of her attention on you.

“I need to get over someone.”

There, you've said it.

“Who?” She asks, and for the first time in all the years you've known her you can't read her at all.

“You don't know them.”

She looks ahead, her jaw clenched tight. “How long?”

You blink away the tears. “A few years.”

She looks down at her lap, her fingers tapping against her thigh. “Who?” She asks again.

“Natasha…”

“Is it Carol?” Her voice is tight, her eyes dart around the street.

“God no,” you chuckle, thinking about your blond friend. Valkyrie would kill you on the spot if you even looked at her the wrong way, not that you're interested anyway. They need to get over themselves and finally admit their feelings to each other. Anyone can see their pining from a mile away.

“Kate?”

You shake your head. “You don't know them.”

“Then tell me. What would it matter?”

“Nat, can we just-”

“Tell me.”

You groan, and turn to open the door, but Natasha’s hand landing on your thigh stops you. You swallow, freezing on the spot.

“Please.”

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the inevitable. “It's you,” you whisper.

The hand on your thigh clumps tight. “What?”

“It's you,” you repeat, feeling braver after the admission. “Always you.”

She lets out a deep, shaky breath, before reaching for your face with her other hand. “Look at me, please.”

You face her, eyes still closed, a few tears sliding down your cheeks. They're wiped away a moment later, and your face gets enveloped in the softest warmth.

“Open your eyes.”

You swallow, and do as she asked. She looks at you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, lips falling open. “What?”

She smiles, her thumb tracing patterns on your wet cheek. “I love you.”

You look at her for a long moment, taking in her features - her forest green eyes, tender and soft, the slope of her nose, so kissable. Your eyes trail lower and then suddenly a loud laugh makes its way out of your chest. You bend, clutching your stomach, happy tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

Natasha looks delightfully confused.

“I'm sorry, it's just…” you giggle, pointing at her face, “the mustache.”

She groans, tearing it away. “I've been going crazy all this time, you know.”

“Yeah?” You grin, head spinning.

“Yeah,” she says before claiming your lips. She's soft, so soft it makes your toes curl and your chest get warm and fuzzy. The kiss is gentle, loving. You mewl against her, opening your mouth and welcoming her tongue.

The kiss grows heated.

“I,” you gasp between the kisses, “I love you. So much.”

You can feel her blinding smile in the next kiss, and the one that comes after.

[revelinwritin]

Envy and Venom

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4190

AN: Randomly came up with this idea, it's a little different than my other stuff, but give it a read. :)

DAY 1

“You couldn’t have picked a better person for the job,” you tease, gripping tightly onto your father’s hand as the sea of flashing lights fifteen feet away practically blinds you. The reporters call out for your attention but you ignore them, pausing in the awkward, hand-holding pose with your father so the photo can be plastered across the front page of news outlets around the world. 

“I trust you. Don’t ruin what I’ve started,” your father says, grabbing onto your shoulder and pulling you into a tight embrace. “And please try to keep your…escapades…a little more under wraps, okay?” he whispers into your ear. 

“I’ll try, Dad,” you say, but it isn’t really your fault that the public was so interested in what goes on in your bedroom. Then again, you hadn’t exactly been trying to be subtle when you were fucking your secretary against the penthouse window of your apartment, but people should try to mind their own business more. 

Your father pushes you back and the two of you turn in unison to wave at the crowd once more. 

“Congratulations!” you hear them echoing. “To Envy Industries’ new CEO, Y/N!”

***********************************************************************

Naturally, to celebrate your latest achievement, you host the party of the century, inviting other world-renowned millionaires, fellow tech company gurus, actors, singers, celebrities, and pretty much anyone else who fit society’s thinly-veiled description of “famous.” You initially show up with two models you had already spent the afternoon with, but you weren’t interested in stringing them along and were excited to find some new target to chase after. 

The first hour alone is spent wading through faces you recognize from online but have no personal connection with, and you have to pretend that you’re grateful when they take enough interest and ask about the future of your company. 

“We’ll probably stick to the production of GPUs for a while,” you say, yelling to be heard over the music and rumble of people. “We just signed a huge contract with Tesla, so we’ll be supplying all the hardware they need for their next products. They have a big need for AI software, and we’re one of the few companies that can build exactly what they need.”

“Wow, that’s very impressive.” The short-haired blonde woman suddenly throws herself at you, her nails digging into your bicep so hard you can feel the prick through your burgundy silk jacket.

“Thank you.” You’re not sure you’ve ever seen this woman before in your life and you wonder if she even understood half of what you were saying or she was just trying to get into your pants.

“I’m Carol, by the way. Do you want to get a drink?”

“I would never say no to a drink.” You let Carol lead you to the bar (that you are footing the bill for) and she orders for you, picking an old-fashioned cocktail for you. A decent choice, but if she had read your interview in The Chief Executive Magazine, she would have known that your favorite drink was actually a vodka martini. You join her at an empty table.

“So, what do you do for a living?” you ask out of politeness, taking a sip and letting the whiskey burn your throat.  

“I’m an influencer,” Carol says. “I have one-point-seven million followers on Tik Tok right now. I mostly post fitness routines or travel vlogs. And I also stream video games on Twitch.”

“Ah.” Now it’s your turn to act like you’re impressed when you have no idea what she’s talking about. 

Carol drones on about her next project, which involves a collaboration with another influencer you’ve never heard of. Your eyes scan the people walking by, looking for a new object of infatuation. It doesn’t take long until you make eye contact with a beautiful, redheaded woman, her voluptuous body hugged by an emerald green dress. Immediately, your heart rate spikes as you scan her up and down, not predatorily, but admiringly. The neckline of her dress plunges down to her belly button, a tasteful hint of her cleavage showing through, highlighted by a long  silver necklace with a thin gold bar tassel. 

You perk up, smoothing your hair back and puffing out your chest like a proud pigeon when she starts walking over.

“Congratulations,” the redhead says. “Your family must be very proud of you.”

“My dad didn’t want to give it to me,” you admit, completely oblivious to Carol’s pout as you instantly give your attention to this new woman. “But I convinced him the company would be in good hands.”

“I bet.”

“Can I get you a drink?” you ask, desperate to keep around for the conversation (and perhaps more).

“I should be the one treating you,” the redhead says. She takes the cocktail out of your hands and brings it to her lips. “Hmm. I didn’t think this was your taste,” she notes. “How does a vodka martini sound?”

You know instantly this is the woman you’re taking home with you tonight. “That sounds delightful.”

***********************************************************************

You ditch Carol without a second thought and follow the redhead back to the bar, where she picks up two vodka martinis. She brings you to a private booth, sitting so close to you that your knees are touching hers. You can almost feel her body heat through the fabric of your clothes. 

“To Envy Industries’ long and prosperous future,” she says, raising her drink in a toast.

“Cheers.” You clink your glass to hers and drink half of it in one long sip, smiling in satisfaction. “I didn’t catch your name,” you say.

“Natasha.” It sparks a familiar memory, a name you’ve heard before. But she’s so intoxicating that you give it no second thought. Natasha is one of the most gorgeous women you’ve ever seen in your life and you can’t believe she’s sitting here talking to you and you alone.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you say, formally offering her your hand. She shakes it, and you gently bring her hand up to your lips to kiss her knuckles.

“Likewise,” she says, crossing one perfectly toned leg over the other, her foot nudging the back of your calf. “Not to eavesdrop, but I overheard you mention a contract with Tesla. Say what you want about that company, but you can’t deny the evidence that they’re one of the highest valued companies in the world. I wouldn’t be surprised if Envy Industries is soon up there with them.”

“Exactly.” Your interest in this woman skyrockets, because you know she isn’t bullshitting you. She isn’t like Carol. She knows what she’s talking about. 

“We’ve been trying to strike deals with the automotive industry for years,” Natasha goes on, “But you’ve beat us to it. And now that you’ve partnered up with Tesla, you’re basically unstoppable.”

“Not quite,” you correct, now unable to stop yourself from unraveling the schemes of your company’s next five years. “Our research on artificial intelligence is just getting started. We just applied for ten new patents within computing technologies and we’re on track to absolutely dominate the market for discrete graphics processing units by the end of the year.” 

Natasha grins at your enthusiasm and you feel yourself blush in embarrassment. You know the media often labeled you as stupid, reckless, irresponsible, unfit to lead, and constantly bashed your sexual appetite, but you were all those things and a technology genius. Your father had built this company from the ground up, but you had been there alongside him the past six years. While everyone classified your promotion to CEO as nepotism, you felt you had rightfully earned it. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” she comments.

“Well, it definitely wouldn’t be wise for the new CEO to be giving away all the secrets, now would it?” you chuckle, even though you’ve definitely already said more than you should’ve. 

“Your success is no trade secret.” Natasha turns her whole body to face you. The attention she’s giving you is almost more than you can bear. Your heart pounds against your chest. No woman has ever made you this excited before. “But if you want, maybe we can go somewhere a little more private, where you can share whatever else you’d like.”

“Hmm.” It was rare for another woman to be so bold with you. But you’ve never lusted after another woman like Natasha before. Arousal heats up in your stomach as Natasha leans forward, resting her hand on your thigh and squeezing it teasingly. Her breath fans over your face and you can smell the vodka and her cherry lipstick. You lean forward to meet her, moving like you’re in a dream, fireworks sparking in the back of your head the moment your lips touch. 

Suddenly, you’re overcome with the carnal desire to drag this woman up to your penthouse and have her squirming underneath you, crying out your name as she comes undone.

“Um, would you like to…” You can hardly think straight. “My room…apartment…is upstairs…if you want to…”

“Show me the way,” Natasha says, standing up and offering you her hand.

***********************************************************************

Your brain is swirling in a fog as you follow Natasha to the elevator. You don’t even register any of the people you pass, fully aware of the fact that someone will report this headline to the National Enquirer, at the very least. But all the worries of the future disappear the moment the elevator doors close and Natasha throws herself at you, her legs hooking around your narrow waist and her heels digging into the small of your back. Your hands support her supple bottom, squeezing in appreciation as her lips crash against yours in a desperate frenzy. 

You stumble into the wall, smashing your hand onto the top floor button and feeling the elevator start to rise, but not fast enough. 

“Lucky me,” Natasha pants between kisses. “Getting to go home with the newly-christened CEO of Envy Industries.”

“You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight,” you respond, heat rising between your legs. “Of course you were coming home with me.”

Natasha glows with the praise and pulls your head into her chest, where you instinctively lick and nip at the flesh of her exposed breasts and she keens at the attention. When the elevator doors open again, you stumble out with her still in your arms, your feet automatically taking you down the path to your apartment. Thankfully, your apartment door opens automatically when your key card is in range, so you’re able to kick it open with your foot, without having to put her down.   

You carry her straight to the bedroom, dropping her on the freshly-changed sheets you had housekeeping put on after you were done with the two models from earlier. You can hardly remember your time with them and your body is practically vibrating in anticipation like you haven’t had sex in years. You crawl on top of Natasha, lowering yourself to kiss her again, this time with more passion and her arms snake over your broad back, pressing your body against hers.  

“I need to get you out of this dress,” you pant, desperate for skin-to-skin contact with her. 

“You first,” she says, releasing you as you sit up, yanking off your jacket and throwing it to the floor. You’re annoyed at your choice of shirt, a white button-up that has way too many buttons, as you impatiently pop them off one at a time and remove your bra. Natasha watches you with hunger in her eyes and you’ve never felt more proud to reveal yourself to another partner. The daily, painful 2-hour visits to the gym and strict adherence to a customized diet showed in your chiseled physique, your biceps bulging like you had baseballs under your skin, your perfect washboard abs, and your thighs were sturdier than tree trunks. 

“Fuck,” she mutters, reaching up to run her hand across your abs like she can’t believe you’re really in front of her. “I could look at you all day.”

It’s a common reaction most people have, but it definitely heats you up more when it comes from Natasha. “Your turn, gorgeous.” 

She sits up and turns around so you can access the zipper of her dress. You sweep her hair to the side, stealing a kiss to her neck because you really can’t help yourself. Natasha hums in appreciation and you lower her zipper slowly. Her dress pools at her waist like a glimmering green puddle. She isn’t wearing a bra so your hands immediately gravitate to cup her breasts, and she arches her back against your bare chest. 

“Are you gonna fuck me the same way you do to every girl you have in here?” she asks, placing one of her hands over yours and guiding it down her stomach, where your fingers part through her soaking folds. 

“If you want me to,” you say, pressing deeper into her and she whines at your touch. “But I’ll give you whatever you want.” Normally, you enjoy being in full control in the bedroom, but you are absolutely willing to give that up if it pleases Natasha. 

She suddenly pushes your hand away from her center; you can still feel traces of her stickiness on your fingers. “Do you have a strap? I want to ride you.”

Your stomach flips at the thought of her on top of you, grinding down on you until she finishes. Her heaving bosom in your face for you to suck and kiss while she enjoys the orgasm you gave her. 

“Yeah, let me grab it.” While you launch yourself off the bed to go fishing around your nightstand drawer, Natasha nudges her dress to the floor and delicately removes her long necklace, settling back comfortably on your king-sized bed while she waits for you. You take off your pants and pull the harness over your waist, turning back to the mouth-watering sight of her naked and ready for your taking. Her body is toned and curved in all the right places: clearly, she respected her body as much as you did to yours. There are few things you love more than a woman who takes care of herself.

You climb back onto the bed and Natasha pounces on you while you’re still getting into position, holding onto your biceps to pin you down. You catch sight of her glimmering wetness as she drags herself along your abs, pressing back against your cock until it rubs against her butt. You reach over to grab the bottle of lube always present on your nightstand and squirt a generous glob onto your strap, not that it looks like Natasha will need it. 

“Look how wet you are. You’ve been waiting for this all night, sweetheart?” you tease, your hands running up and down her sides. Natasha takes you by surprise when she shoves you back against the headboard.  

“Shut up and let me fuck you,” she growls, her voice dangerously dropping an octave. Natasha lifts herself up to line herself with the head of your cock and slides down in one move. The slick noise as it fills her is downright sinful. Your big hands wrap around her tiny waist, guiding her to bounce in an aggressive rhythm as the two of you watch your cock disappear inside of her. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” she moans, throwing her head back, red hair spilling over her shoulders. “That feels so good.”

“Look how well you’re taking me,” you praise, your hips jerking up to match her rhythm. Even though you can’t necessarily feel it, you swear her pussy is clenching around the toy, greedily sucking you in and requiring physical effort to pull out. Your own clit is throbbing as the toy bumps it every time Natasha slams down on your thighs. 

“Deeper, babe. Go deeper,” Natasha begs, moving her hands from your shoulders to the headboard, grabbing it so firmly you hear the wood crack. You change the angle of your hips, punching them up to satisfy her command. The bed frame creaks and shakes; you know your father would be unhappy to hear he has to order you a new one so soon, but you can’t be bothered to care right now.

“Fuck, right there. That’s it,” Natasha moans, rolling her hips with such fluidity it makes your stomach clench. She looks down at you, admiring the flex of your muscles as you do your best to please her, a singular bead of sweat running over your collarbone and sliding down between your breasts. 

“I’m close. I’m almost fucking there,” she warns, her hips beginning to lose their rhythm. But you keep your intense pace, until your abs are cramping and you’re certain there are bruises on your thighs. Your own arousal burns like a ball of white-hot fire and you so desperately want to make this woman cum you will gladly ignore the ache of your own orgasm for hers. 

“You’re fucking me too well, baby. I’m gonna lose it,” Natasha pants and the praise almost breaks your control. She throws her head back as she finishes and you bury your face in her heaving chest, tasting the sweat on her skin and sucking one of her nipples into your mouth. Her hand abandons the headboard to tangle in your hair, yanking almost painfully at your roots while you feel her cum spill onto your lap. She pushes your head away once she’s done, your lips parting from her nipple with a string of saliva, and lifts herself off your cock. The two of you are panting in unison, while you’re still fighting the simmer of arousal in your gut.

“Hmm, that was nice. Do you normally let your partner finish first?” she asks, resting her hands on your chest again. “I didn’t think you were the type.”

Your face burns in embarrassment because she’s not wrong. “Um…no,” you admit, knowing full well you could lie, but you feel like she’ll be able to see through it.

Natasha smirks. “Such a gentlewoman with me,” she says, bending over to kiss you, this time much more softly than before. 

“Only for you,” you murmur back, shocked at how whipped you already are for her. 

“You want me to help you finish?” Natasha asks, pushing the strap aside to brush her fingers across your hot center. Your hips jerk off the bed, almost launching Natasha into the air. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she giggles, climbing off your lap and helping you pull the strap off your waist. You’re practically frozen in anticipation, watching with bated breath as Natasha scoots herself down the bed and lowers her head between your legs.

You melt at the feeling of her mouth against your center, perfectly hot and wet. Your back arches off the bed when her tongue glides through your folds, lapping up the mixture of body fluids like it’s some kind life-saving elixir. 

“Shit, baby, that feels amazing,” you moan, burying one of your hands in her red tresses, motioning with your hips that you want her deeper. She obliges by wrapping her lips around your clit and giving it a few hard sucks that have you seeing white stars behind your eyelids. You let go of her hair, afraid you’ll tear it out and grab onto the Egyptian cotton sheets tightly. Her tongue pushes into you and you swear you convulse around it, already leaking into her mouth when she’s only just started to go down on you.

Natasha’s arms wrap around your powerful thighs, trying to force them apart as you close them around her head. You don’t mean to put her in awkward, even dangerous position, but you can’t think about anything other than the pulsing in your center, soothed and encouraged by the heat of Natasha’s mouth. You dig your heels into the mattress to prevent yourself from bouncing across the bed at the rocking motion your body had adopted to maximize your pleasure. Every time her tongue slips into you, the muscles in your stomach contract so sharply it almost hurts, and when she laps at your clit, the stimulation is so great you feel immediately dizzy.

“Natasha,” you pant, unable to hold out any longer. “I’m gonna…Please let me…” 

She presses into you with even more enthusiasm than before and your body seizes as you release yourself into her mouth. Natasha eagerly collects all your slick, her red lipstick smeared on the insides of your thighs.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moan, feeling your high is going to last forever. But just the sensations start to fizz, you realize Natasha still has her iron grip on your legs, keeping them spread apart.

“I want another,” she demands, in a sultry tone that almost pulls the second orgasm from you right there.

“Natasha,” you whine, fearing you are too sensitive to deliver her wishes. You twist your body back and forth, half-heartedly trying to free yourself. But Natasha won’t let you, lowering her head to your heat and taking what she wants. Overly stimulated, every muscle in your body goes rigid as fireworks of pleasure, bordering the line of painful, explode inside of you. Natasha’s tongue somehow reaches even deeper than she had the first time, the tip pressing against your front ridged wall and you lose it for the second time in minutes.

“Oh, fuck!” you cry, your back arching off the bed but Natasha holds your waist down, determined to not let a drop of your essence go to waste. Your head is spinning and your body is like a live wire of excitement, twitching and trembling until you have no more energy left and and you melt into a limp mess.

Natasha kisses up your abs, between your breasts and licks at the column of your sweaty throat. Her lips finally connect with yours and you can taste a hint of yourself mixed with hers. You can’t wait to taste her straight from the source, but it’s going to take a bit of time to find the strength to move after two back-to-back orgasms. She wraps her arms around your torso, nuzzling into the side of your chest and inhaling deeply.

There is a long, but not uncomfortable silence as you two of you find your breath.

“I’m not letting you leave until you sit on my face,” you finally say. Natasha looks up at you with a satisfied grin.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she says, crawling up so she can do just that.

***********************************************************************

The moment Natasha made eye contact with you, she knew you were done for. You were far too predictable. She knew exactly the kind of woman you chased after. She knew what she needed to say to catch your attention, to convince you that she deserved a private moment with you.

You were too easy.

When you were so busy looking at her lips, trying to figure out when the right moment to kiss her was, you didn’t notice her take your phone out of your pocket, plug a flash drive into the charging slot, and return it back to your pocket in record time.

As you carry her in the elevator, your face buried in her breasts while she slips a tiny audio recorder into the pocket of your blazer. Through the fog of pure lust for you, Natasha struggles to but succeeds in making a mental map of your apartment. Where your office is, how many computers you have.

After numerous orgasms, she’s sufficiently fucked your brains out and cuddled with you long enough for you to pass out into an impossibly deep slumber, she gets up and heads into your office. She doesn’t need more than five minutes to hack into your devices and steal all the data saved on them. She chuckles to herself at how easy the task is; if she had known it would’ve been this simple and enjoyable, she would’ve come after you a long time ago.

Natasha gathers all her things and excuses herself from your apartment without a good-bye.

***********************************************************************

DAY 2

When you wake up the next morning, your mind a haze from the absolute debauchery that occurred the previous night. You rub your eyes and roll over, finding yourself naked and alone in bed. There is a deep soreness in your body, in almost every muscle, and some you haven’t felt for a long time. Natasha’s scent of vanilla and cherry lingers, but she’s nowhere to be found.

“Fuck,” you grumble, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. It’s been blowing up with notifications, which is a little unusual, but you assume it’s mostly from friends still congratulating you on your promotion. You open a text from your best friend and work partner, Tony.

From Tony: You fucked up, dude.

He included a link to a TMZ article. You click on it, half-wondering if it’ll send you to some troll site. The headline reads:

New CEO of Envy Industries Y/N spotted getting cozy with Black Widow Corp. heiress Natasha Romanoff 

Everything clicks to you now.

“Oh, fuck.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: To be continued? 👀

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[revelinwritin]

II HANDS II HEAVEN 4

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff and Reader reluctantly team up for a couples retreat mission. Despite initial resistance, they find themselves drawn together by unexpected circumstances and shared experiences.

W/c:4k

Hour 15 - Welcome to Jacksonville  

“So live your life (eh-eh-eh)

You steady chasin' that paper

Just live your life (oh, eh-eh-eh)” 

“Ain’t got no time for no haters,” You sang the lyrics to the TI and Rihanna song, as you eased the car into a parking spot with precision. Your voice filled the car's interior as you continued to hum to the music. With one hand casually resting on Natasha's passenger headrest, you backed into the first available spot. 

Natasha seemed none the wiser as she slept peacefully beside you. She had learned to tune you out three hours ago. She stirred beside you, her peaceful slumber interrupted by the cutting of the car's engine. Blinking groggily, she glanced around the unfamiliar surroundings of the parking lot.

"Why are we stopping?" Her voice held a trace of confusion as she sat up, her gaze flitting around. "Where are we? Is this a mall?"

With a casual shrug, you unbuckled your seatbelt, a playful smirk playing on your lips. "Do you always wake up this disoriented?"

Natasha's brow furrowed slightly, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice. "I wouldn't be disoriented if you didn't keep making unnecessary stops."

You shrugged, unfazed by her annoyance. "Relax, it's just a quick pit stop. Thought we could use a little break before we hit the road again."

Natasha sighed, her frustration evident as she glanced out the window. "Fine, but make it quick. We have a schedule to keep."

“You’re coming aren’t you?” You turned to her as you slid out of the driver’s seat. 

Natasha followed suit, stepping out of the car with a grimace. This heat was atrocious. "I suppose I have no choice," she replied. 

You walked ahead of her, straight through the mall, and into the adult equivalent of a candy store; Jared's Jewelry.

Natasha frowned as she observed you eyeing the necklaces on the counter. "Jewelry shopping?" she questioned, a hint of skepticism in her voice.

"Wedding band shopping," you clarified, tapping your left ring finger for emphasis. "Married couples with no rings?"

“Right,” She mumbled. This mission hadn’t been as meticulously planned as others. The dealings mostly relied on you both to be sufficient spies that could handle things like this on your own. 

“We’ve been married two days and you’re already forgetting the important stuff,” You joked with a headshake. “Oh, I like this one.”

“$2,000?” Natasha tilted her head. She squinted her eyes at the price. This was a part of life she never had to pay much attention to. 

“You're right too cheap,” You nodded in agreement. Natasha was just about to protest when a man with an unidentifiable accent approached the both of you. 

The man, dressed in all black like a worker, approached with a friendly smile. "Can I help you ladies find something?" he asked in his accented voice.

You immediately shared a knowing gaze with Natasha. His accent was most certainly fake. Maybe as a way to keep up appearances in such a high-end store. 

“Yes, my wife and I are looking for wedding bands,” You begin to play the part of Alexis. Half ditzy and overexcited. “Can you show me a better selection or is this all you have?”

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Surprise me,” You gestured to the entirety of the store. 

The worker, Jimmy, nodded and led you to several pieces, showcasing them with pride. However, none of them seemed to be quite right. Natasha's annoyance grew evident, but you seemed to be having too much fun, trying on different pieces and admiring yourself in the mirror.

“What do you think of this one?” You looked at Natasha as you gently tapped against the glass. She inspected the jewelry piece and shrugged. She did not like it. 

“How about this one?” Natasha pointed to a wedding band set near the area she wandered off to. 

“Oh, that one is beautiful,” Jimmy praised as he opened up the glass casing for you to get a closer look. He picked up the ring, passing it over to you while watching the both of you closely. 

You eyed the wedding band set that Natasha pointed out, examining it with interest. It was simple, yet elegant and beautiful, just as she described. You reached out to touch it, feeling the smooth material against your fingertips.

“How many carats?” You asked aloud. “It’s pretty.” 

Jimmy described the wedding cushion band, "It's a 2-carat total weight round diamond set in 14-karat white gold. It's one of our finest pieces, quite exquisite, if I may say so."

Natasha's eyes widened as she realized how expensive it was, almost saying no. But before she could voice her concern, you rushed in, saying, "I'll take it."

“That’s a $4,000 ring,” Natasha pointed out. 

You shrugged casually, "Yeah, so?"

“Don’t you think that’s a little expensive considering the circumstances?”

“Let’s just say my billionaire daddy gave me his credit card,” You smirked cheekily, alluding back to Natasha’s insult a few hours ago. 

Natasha's eyebrows raised, but she didn't press further. Instead, she nodded, acknowledging your response.

“In that case, let’s look for a band that compliments you blondie,” Jimmy encouraged as he led you over to yet another ring display. He missed the death glare Natasha was sending his way as he walked ahead of you. You couldn't help but snicker at her expense. Oh, you would love this week.  “This time, I think the misses can pick one out. Since you did pick hers.” 

You grinned mischievously, your eyes scanning over rings that were far from Natasha's taste. "Sure thing, Jimmy. Let's see if we can find something that screams her." Your tone was playful, knowing full well that the rings you were considering would likely get a less-than-enthusiastic response from Natasha.

“Don’t you dare,” Natasha murmured threateningly. She caught sight of the rose gold wedding ring that looked more like a toy than real jewelry. It was tacky and not as well made as some of the other rings you’d seen. 

You chuckled softly, pretending to consider the ring for a moment before shaking your head. "Nah, too flashy for you, babe," you teased, using the nickname deliberately to provoke a reaction. "We'll keep looking." You shot her a playful wink before turning your attention back to the display. 

As you browsed through the selection, your eyes caught on a ring resting in the display. It was a delicate white gold band, adorned with a single, shimmering diamond that seemed to dance in the light. The stone was elegantly set in a simple, yet intricate design that directly matched yours. They complimented each other in the best way. 

"This one," You murmured, reaching for the ring with a sense of certainty. 

"This is it," You declared with a smile, turning to Natasha to gauge her reaction. “It compliments your eyes. I can’t describe it but it’s nice. What do you think?

“I like it,” Natasha cleared her throat, hoping to ease some of the awkwardness between you. “It’s nice.”

“We’ll take it,” You turned to give the ring to Jimmy. “How soon can we take both home?” 

“Within the next hour,” Jimmy suggested. “You said you’re paying by credit card? For you, I can have everything done within fifteen minutes. It simply takes insurance a while. I’ll give you a call when it’s ready?”

“That sounds lovely, thank you,” You stepped over to the register where he began to ring you up. “Oh, I think I left my credit card in the car. Babe, won’t you be a doll and swipe for me?” You looked at Natasha with a mischievous glint in your eyes.  

Natasha's eyes narrowed at your request, but she begrudgingly reached for her wallet, swiping her card without a word. As the transaction went through, you couldn't help but smirk, knowing you had just added another layer to your playful banter.

"Thanks, babe," You said with a wink, accepting the receipt from Jimmy. "I owe you one."

“Uh huh,” Natasha nodded. “We’ll be back soon.” 

Natasha followed you out of the store and down towards the food court. 

“Oh, Charley’s,” You grinned. “Come, we must feast.” You waved Natasha over to Charley's Philly Steak. 

“Thanks but no thanks,” Natraha shook her head. “This is a lot of grease and…”

“What type of health nut are you ?” You asked in disgust. You gave her body a once over before you sighed. 

Natasha gave a wry smile. "Call me crazy, but I prefer to avoid coronary artery disease."

You chuckled. "Suit yourself. More cheesesteak for me." With that, you headed into the restaurant, leaving Natasha to ponder her choices.

You ordered the best cheesesteak on the planet, practically salivating at the menu as you stood in line. When it was time to get your food, you led Natasha over to a table to sit with you. She sat with a simple lemonade in her hand as she eyed your surroundings subtly. You had to admit the girl was good. 

“You know I kind of like you,” You said to Natasha in between bites. “At first, I simply thought you were bitchy. Now I think of you as kind of hot and bitchy. It works for you. Also, the blonde does look good on you I must say.” 

Natasha raised an eyebrow, unamused. "Thanks, I think."

You grinned, undeterred by her lack of enthusiasm. "Hey, it takes a special kind of person to rock the 'hot and bitchy' vibe. Not everyone can pull it off."

Natasha shook her head, a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Absolutely," You replied with a wink, taking another bite of your cheesesteak.

“You certainly have a way with words,” Natasha mumbled, as she watched you ogle a beautiful woman walking past the two of you. “Keep your eyes open.”

You glanced back at Natasha, a smirk playing on your lips. "Always do, especially when the view's this good."

Natasha rolled her eyes, but a hint of amusement danced in her gaze. "Just remember why we're here, okay?"

"Got it," You replied with a wink, turning your attention back to the task at hand.

“People say I’m a bit intense,” Natasha began. “They’ve never met you.”

You chuckled, acknowledging her remark. "Intense? Me? Nah, just passionate about the job."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Sure, let's go with that."

“It gets me through the day to keep my mood lifted,” You said solemnly. “I spent so much time being serious. Stone-faced and unhappy. I like this version of me. It’s neat.”

Natasha regarded you with a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "So, you're saying the humor is a coping mechanism?"

You nodded a wistful smile on your face. "Something like that. Keeps me sane, you know?"

“I do,” Natasha agreed. “You’re not going to eat all of these,” Natasha said more so to herself than you as she grabbed a few fries from your plate.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist," You teased, nudging the plate closer to her. 

“It’s halfway decent,” Natasha hummed as she chewed into a fry. “I’m not a stickler when it comes to eating. Just so you know.”

“I know,” You shrugged. Some things went without saying. If there was someone to truly judge her on certain habits she most likely gained from life growing up as a spy it wouldn’t be you. 

“How old were you when you joined?” Natasha asked suddenly. “Your file doesn’t say.”

You chewed slowly, debating on whether you wanted to tell her or not. 

“Fourteen,” You admitted. 

Natasha's expression softened a hint of empathy in her eyes. "That's young," she remarked quietly, her tone more gentle than usual. She tried to imagine what a younger, spy you would look like. How would you have acted then? Were you afraid? Did you make friends? Were you allowed to have friends? She wants to know so much more. Though she figured you weren’t willing to tell her too much. You were only being cordial after all. 

“It is,” You swallowed thickly. “I played basketball in school and I was recruited based on my JROTC background. I guess they saw something in me no one else did.” 

Natasha nodded, absorbing your words. "They usually do," she replied, her voice carrying a weight of understanding. "Are you ready?”

“Yeah, I am,” You nodded. Anything to keep this conversation from going any deeper. 

—------

The rest of the ride to Bay Harbor Island is done in relative silence. You and Natasha would share brief tidbits about the other, both made up and truthful, as you prepared to assume your roles. You could feel the hairs on your arms stand as you pulled into the luxurious resort parking lot. You wouldn’t even attempt to find a parking spot on your own, instead pulling up to the valet. 

As the valet took the keys and you stepped out of the car, the weight of your assumed identities settled upon you. You straightened your posture, adopting the persona of Alexis, the confident and sophisticated woman you were tasked to portray. Natasha, too, seemed to slip effortlessly into her role as Joan, her demeanor shifting subtly to embody the elegance and grace expected of her character.

The resort exuded an air of opulence and sophistication, clear from the moment you stepped through the grand entrance. Freshly waxed marble floors stretched out before you, adorned with intricate patterns that spoke of craftsmanship and luxury. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings casting a warm glow over the lobby.

The atmosphere was alive with energy, as guests and staff moved through the various rooms. Busy chatter filled the air, mingling with the soft sounds of classical music that played softly in the background. 

Natasha and you navigated through the crowd with ease, wheeling your luggage behind you as a busboy trailed dutifully after you. The occasional glance was thrown your way, but everyone was much too busy trying to check into their rooms to do much of anything. 

As you and Natasha stood side by side, it was clear to you that each of you had your own way of assessing the situation. While you scanned the room for potential exits and assessed the number of staff and guests present, Natasha's focus was on the subtle nuances of the environment. She listened intently to the conversations around you, gauging the mood of the crowd and the flow of foot traffic with practiced precision.

Despite the amount of energy in the resort lobby, both of you remained calm and composed.  

“I told you we should have gotten here earlier,” A woman’s gruff and irritated voice floated from behind you. 

“Well, how was I supposed to know there would be people checking in on a Thursday?” The man argued. 

You exchanged a glance with Natasha as the voices behind you caught your attention. It seemed like a typical couple's bickering, but something about their tone piqued your interest. They sounded tense as if there was more beneath the surface than just a disagreement over timing.

Natasha subtly shifted her position, her body language indicating that she was now paying closer attention to the conversation behind you. 

“We're already late for check-in,” the woman continued, her frustration evident in her voice. “Now we're going to have to wait in line like everyone else.”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” the man retorted defensively. “It's not my fault the traffic was so bad.”

As you moved ahead in line, a couple with a restless golden retriever cut off your path to get across. Hoping to avoid them, you stepped back, slightly losing your balance only to have Natasha press her left hand against your lower back to keep you steady. 

“Sorry!” The husband called behind him as they rushed outside the front doors. 

“Jeez, they almost knocked her over,” The woman behind you whispered to her husband, their bickering long gone. 

"Thanks," You murmured to Natasha, offering her a small smile of appreciation. 

“Is this okay?” Natasha leaned over to speak closer to your ear. She was referring to her hand on your back. You’d mentioned before how physical touch made you uncomfortable. Given that physical touch would be a must to sell as a fake couple, you would have to get over it. It was kind of her to ask. You nodded in response to Natasha's question, grateful for her consideration. 

"Yeah, it's fine," You replied softly, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. 

You were finally up. The front desk attendant was a kind young girl with a slight gap in her teeth. She had the sweetest smile that you couldn’t help but match. 

“Hi, my wife and I are checking in,” Natasha spoke. “It should be under the last name White.”

The receptionist nodded, typing on the keyboard in front of her. "Ah, yes, Mrs. White," she confirmed, her fingers moving deftly over the keys. "I have your reservation right here. Welcome to Shady Corners Island Resort." She smiled warmly, handing over the room keys to Natasha. "I hope you don’t mind. Seeing as you’re newlyweds we took the pleasure of upgrading your room to one of our over-the-water bungalows. Free of charge. It’s our last one for the weekend.” 

"That's very generous, thank you," Natasha replied with a gracious smile, accepting the room keys. "We appreciate it."

“If you just wait right over there near the red bell a member of our staff will be able to lead you and one of the other couples over to the bungalow area,” She gestured to the right. 

"Sounds perfect," Natasha nodded, gesturing for you to follow her toward the designated waiting area near the red bell.

As Natasha and you made your way towards the waiting area, you overheard the couple behind you whispering to each other.

"I wish we could get an upgrade like that," the woman muttered.

"Yeah, but didn't you hear? The last room got booked by that couple in front of us," the man replied, disappointment evident in his voice.

You exchanged a glance with Natasha, silently acknowledging the stroke of luck that landed you the upgraded room.

As you and Natasha settled near the red bell, the couple with the restless golden retriever approached and stood next to you. The dog, clearly still restless, tugged on its leash, occasionally letting out a low whine.

You couldn't help but wonder how the dog was allowed in such a busy and upscale hotel, but you kept your thoughts to yourself, not wanting to make any assumptions. Instead, you focused on maintaining your composure and waiting patiently for the staff member to lead you to your bungalow.

“White?” An attendant approached the two of you and you answered with an enthusiastic nod. “And, Corcoran?”

“That would be us,” The woman answered. Her hair was a dark brown, beach curled, and flowing down her back. Her features were pleasant enough, with soft curves to her face and a warm smile. 

“Follow me,” The attendant gestured. 

As the attendant led the way, Natasha eventually dropped her hand from your back. You tried to ignore the sudden absence of her touch, focusing instead on the picturesque view of the overwater bungalows ahead. The path to the accommodations wound through lush gardens and over small bridges spanning the peaceful ocean. The sound of gentle waves lapping against the wooden stilts beneath the bungalows filled the air, creating a serene atmosphere.

“302 Sunset Retreat,” The attendant offered to take hold of your key card to show you how to get in. He demonstrated how to use the key card to unlock the door, sliding it into the slot and giving it a gentle push. With a soft click, the door unlocked, and he pushed it open to reveal the luxurious interior.

Once inside, the bellboy followed behind with your bags, placing them neatly in the living area before excusing himself, leaving you and Natasha alone in the bungalow.

The interior of the bungalow exuded tropical luxury with a modern twist. 

A plush king-sized bed adorned with crisp, white linens served as the focal point of the room.  The large windows offered stunning views of the crystal-clear waters below. 

In one corner of the room, a luxurious jacuzzi tub awaited, surrounded by lush greenery for added privacy. Nearby, a sleek waterfall shower, with glass doors, stood tall. 

A top-notch mini-bar stocked with an array of beverages and snacks stood against one wall, offering indulgent treats for your enjoyment.  Outside, a small patio beckoned with comfortable chairs, providing the perfect spot to sip a refreshing drink and soak in the breathtaking views of the surrounding lagoon.

The best part of the room was the cooler filled with champagne and wine. Along with the rose petals sprinkled over the tiny kitchenette counter. 

“Nice,” Natasha sighed as she stepped into the bedroom area of the bungalow. “Bed-sharing.”

“I know so cliche,” You shook your head as you grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge.

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully at your comment, her lips curling into a small smirk. "Well, we're committed to selling the whole 'newlywed' vibe, aren't we?" she quipped, her tone laced with sarcasm.

You chuckled, nodding in agreement as you twisted the cap off the water bottle. "Exactly. It's all about authenticity," you replied, taking a sip before gesturing towards the inviting bed. "Shall we test it out?"

“Test it out?” Natasha raised a brow. 

“Must I be the beauty and the brains in this relationship?” You mumbled. 

Natasha chuckled softly. "Careful, or you might bruise your delicate ego," she teased. "But sure, why not? It's been a long day." She walked over to the bed and flopped down onto it, letting out a content sigh.

“You’re lying on the bed with your outside clothes?” You asked incredulously.

“What? You said test it out?” Natasha frowned. 

 "Fair enough," You conceded, walking over to the bed and gingerly sitting down beside her. "But you're still breaking all the rules of hotel etiquette."

“I think we’ll survive,” Natasha closed her eyes. She needed a few minutes to process. 

“It’s so boring already,” You groaned as you began to look through the drawers beside the bed.

Natasha sighed, a hint of irritation in her voice. "Can't you sit still for a moment?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, continuing to rummage through the drawers. "I'm just trying to find something to pass the time. Being cooped up in this room isn't exactly thrilling."

Natasha rolled her eyes, her patience wearing thin. "Well, try to contain yourself. We're here for a mission, not a vacation. Also, we’ve been here all of five minutes."

“Five minutes that I could have been in a bikini in the sun,” You said in a ‘duh’ tone. “Sun’s out bun’s out as they say.” 

“Are you sure you don’t have ADHD?” Natasha began to ask as she squinted her eyes. Was she analyzing you?

“What are you a psychiatrist? I thought that was my cover,”  You rolled your eyes. 

 "Who says I can't dabble in multiple professions? Besides, it's not exactly rocket science to see that you're a bit on edge like all the time,” Natasha pointed out. 

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Is that your professional diagnosis?"

"Consider it a layman's observation," She replied with a grin.

“Well, how about we observe someone by the pool? Come on Tasha,” You whined. 

“I thought I said no nicknames,” Natasha growled. 

“It’s not a nickname it’s just a shortening of your name,” You shrugged. “Also, you told me not to call you honey or baby. Nowhere did you say I couldn’t call you Tasha.” 

Natasha's expression hardened, her eyes narrowing. "Semantics."

You grinned mischievously. "Exactly."

She shook her head. "Let's just go observe by the pool, alright?"

[revelinwritin]

II HANDS II HEAVEN 3

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

3/5 (even though we know it's more than likely this will be longer)

Summary: Natasha Romanoff and Reader reluctantly team up for a couples retreat mission. Despite initial resistance, they find themselves drawn together by unexpected circumstances and shared experiences.

Word Count: 3.8k words

Natasha's eyes fluttered open, her body drenched in a hot sweat. A dull ache pulsed through her left shoulder as she instinctively reached out to the headboard for support. Rubbing her shoulder, she squinted at the dim glow of the old alarm clock resting on the nightstand between the double beds. The numbers indicated it was just 11 pm—she hadn't been asleep for long.

As Natasha tried to shake off the grogginess of sleep, she realized something felt off. The hot sweat clinging to her skin and the soreness in her shoulder give her an uneasy feeling. She leaned over in bed, adjusting her eyes to the nightlight to see your covers were thrown back with no sight of you at all. Interesting. She figured you couldn’t have gone too far. You didn’t need a babysitter or someone watching over your shoulder. You’re a skilled spy just as she is. There was no need for her to worry. 

With a sigh, Natasha swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up, running a hand through her damp hair. She knew she wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep easily now, not with that nagging feeling gnawing at her mind. She decided to get up, maybe a glass of water or a short walk around the building would help clear her head.

But as she stood, her gaze fell on the window. Her curiosity got the best of her as she moved closer to the window. She noticed a small figure seated by the poolside, an unusual sight considering it was late at night and the pool area was closed. Squinting, Natasha observed an even smaller flicker of light coming from the person's lips—a cigarette. It’s you. How long had you been down there?

—-----------------

The peacefulness of the night enveloped you as you sat by the pool, the soft glow of the pool lights casting eerie shadows that distorted the shapes of the surroundings. With one hand propped on your knee, you idly kicked your toes into the water, feeling the gentle waves ripple beneath your feet. The pull of the cigarette between your lips offered a momentary calm as your mind wandered.

Thoughts swirled in your head—about the mission, about your time as an Avenger, about the mysterious meaning of life's purpose.

"Couldn't sleep?" Natasha's voice broke the silence as she approached, her footsteps barely audible except for the faint shuffle of her flip-flops against the damp concrete.

"Nah, I don't usually," You replied, exhaling a stream of smoke into the night air as you took another puff of the cigarette. Tilting your head back, you watched as the smoke dispersed in the wind.

"Did I wake you when I left?" You asked. You pressed the cigarette into the concrete before twirling it in your hands. 

“No,” Natasha said. 

"Good," You nodded, acknowledging Natasha's unspoken disapproval at the sight and smell of the cigarette. "Don't worry, I threw the pack away," you reassured her, hoping to alleviate any concerns she might have about your habits. 

Natasha offered a small, understanding smile. "Thanks," she said softly, appreciating the gesture. Despite her reservations about the habit, she knew you were making an effort, and that meant a lot to her. At least she knew she could trust you to be professional about this mission. 

“I’ve been on missions before,” You confessed quietly. 

"I know," Natasha replied, her tone gentle yet firm. "But that doesn't mean it's easy every time. We all have our ways of coping." 

“Why are you being so cool all of a sudden?” You turned to her with suspicious eyes. “Less than eight hours ago you practically hated my guts. You’ve barely even looked my way the past three months.”

Natasha sighed, her expression softening. "I know, and I'm sorry," she admitted, meeting your gaze with honesty. "Sometimes it takes a wake-up call to realize we need to set aside differences and support each other. We're a team, after all." She paused, searching for the right words. "I guess I just realized that life's too short for grudges, especially in our line of work."

“Grudges are what fuel me,” You shrugged. “I have a few people on my list that certainly deserve that.” 

Natasha nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I get it," she replied. 

Natasha settled herself beside you, maintaining a comfortable distance, yet close enough to feel the subtle ripples of the water as she dipped her feet in. There was a quiet understanding between you, as neither of you had anything left to say. 

“My favorite position is cowgirl,” You suddenly said. “Not for me for the other person.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at the unexpected comment, her expression a mix of surprise and amusement. She chuckled softly before replying, "Well, that's certainly... a candid confession." She shook her head with a playful grin. "I'll remember that, though I'm not sure it's pertinent to our current situation."

“It is,” You glanced over at her. “We’ll probably be one of the only lesbian couples. Which means weird fetishizations and probing questions. Maybe even a game of truth or drink. Adults at resorts are unhinged.” 

"You might have a point there," She conceded. “Give me the rundown on the dossier.”

You took a deep breath before launching into the details of the dossier. "Alright," you begin, "Shady Corners, as the name suggests, is a high-end resort nestled just outside of Miami in the Bay Harbor Islands. It’s owned by, Ilanka and Maxim Belinsky, it's known for catering to the elite, offering luxurious amenities and discreet services."

You leaned in closer, your voice lowering as you delved into the more clandestine aspects. "There’s a darker side to Shady Corners which is the entire reason for us. Rumors about the Belinskys' involvement in illicit activities, from money laundering to connections with underground cartels."

"Apparently," you continue, "guests have reported strange occurrences in the resort's secluded corners—mysterious meetings, people disappearing, and several break-ins, all hushed up by the Belinskys themselves. Couples keep checking in since it’s such a popular destination with a history behind it."

Natasha listened intently, her eyes narrowing as she took in the information. "Sounds like we've got our work cut out for us," she remarked. 

“Indeed we do,” You sighed. “We should get some sleep.” 

“I’m fine with staying here a little while longer.” 

You nodded in understanding. "Alright," you replied. 

Hour 12 

A few short hours later, you found yourselves back on the road, with you taking the wheel this time. Natasha's unease was noticeable as you bobbed and weaved through the traffic, your driving style more assertive than she was used to. With each swift maneuver to pass SUVs and trailers, Natasha's grip tightened on the door handle, her knuckles turning white with tension. 

You couldn't help but notice her discomfort, and though you tried to reassure her that you had everything under control, her nerves seemed to get the better of her. 

“Do you understand speed limits?” She tersely asked as you stepped on the pedal a bit harder. 

You glanced over at Natasha, noticing the edge in her tone as she asked about speed limits. Despite her brevity, you couldn't help but feel amusement at her concern. "Of course I do," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as you stepped on the pedal a bit harder. "But sometimes, you just gotta keep up with the flow of traffic, you know?" 

Natasha's grip on the door handle tightened even more, and she shot you a disapproving look. "That's not an excuse to break the law," she retorted, her voice filled with frustration. "We have to be responsible drivers, especially on long trips like this."

You rolled your eyes, feeling a bit annoyed by her lecturing. "Relax, Natasha," You said "We'll get there in one piece, I promise." 

“I would like to live to see thirty,” Natasha commented, tightening her seatbelt around her midsection. 

“No way you’re being truthful about your age right now,” You flicked on your indicator, laying on the horn for the driver in front of you as they moved at a turtle’s pace. 

You could sense Natasha's annoyance as she defended her age, her frown deepening. "I'm twenty-nine," She stated firmly. "Do I need to show you a birth certificate to confirm that? What makes you think I'm older?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing on your lips. "Relax, Natasha," You teased. "I was just saying, you seem a bit uptight for someone your age. But hey, maybe that's just part of your charm." 

Natasha rolled her eyes, unamused by your comment. "Gee, thanks," she muttered sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest. It was clear she wasn't in the mood for jokes. “I’m far from uptight.”

You furrowed your brow, considering her words for a moment. "Well, since you're so sure, let's take a little trip down memory lane, shall we?" you challenged. 

"Remember when we missed that turnoff and you practically had a meltdown?" you began, counting off on your fingers. "Or how about when I accidentally spilled coffee on the map and you acted like it was the end of the world? It is crazy that we’re using a map anyway when there’s a perfectly good GPS right here on the dashboard. Unless you’re testing me. I thought you trusted that I was a good spy."

“Trust is a strong word,” Natasha shook her head. “What’s that training like anyway? Coming through a government agency.” 

"It's... intense," You replied, your tone guarded as you skirted around the topic. "But it's nothing like the Red Room if that's what you're thinking."

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, not wanting to delve too deep into your past. The memories of your training were still fresh in your mind, and you preferred not to think about them. "Let's just say it involves a lot of rigorous training and a fair share of close calls," you added cryptically, hoping to steer the conversation away from your own experiences.

“A close enough call to have a four-inch scar on your back?” Natasha tilted her head. 

You paused for a moment, caught off guard by Natasha's astute observation. "Well, you've got quite the eye for detail," you replied with a forced chuckle, trying to deflect her question. You shifted in your seat, a hint of discomfort creeping into your expression. "Unless you’re also ready to discuss the scars you have too?” 

“Touche’,” Natasha sighed. 

You raised an eyebrow, shifting the focus of the conversation with a swift change of topic. "So are you and Rogers a thing?" you asked, a sly grin spreading across your face. If there was going to be anyone in the hot seat, it needed to be her. It was about time you made the Black Widow uncomfortable.

Natasha's expression remained neutral. She paused for a moment, considering her response carefully before replying, "Steve and I have a professional relationship, nothing more."

You pressed on, determined to push her buttons. "Sure, sure," you teased, leaning in slightly. "But I've seen the way you two look at each other. There's definitely something more there."

Natasha's facade faltered for just a moment, a little bit of frustration crossing her features before she quickly regained her composure. "Believe what you want," she replied coolly, her tone leaving no room for further discussion on the matter. 

“Come on, it’s okay to say you’ve tapped that,” You egged her on. “Stop being so prissy for a second. It’s unbecoming.” 

Natasha's jaw tensed as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at your persistence. "I don't see how my personal life is any of your business," she replied sharply, her tone tinged with irritation. "And I certainly don't appreciate your crude insinuations."

You could sense her growing frustration, but you pressed on, determined to get a rise out of her. "Oh, come on, lighten up," you teased, leaning in closer. "It's not like anyone would blame you for going for the Captain. He's like the poster boy for good looks and heroism."

Natasha's gaze narrowed, her patience wearing thin. "I suggest you drop it before you say something you'll regret," she warned, her voice low and measured. It was clear she had reached her limit. 

“Ohh, I’m shaking in my boots,” You rolled your eyes. “At first the pressure was on me. Be more like Natasha. Take notes from Natasha. Ask Natasha for help. We can't even hold a simple conversation.” 

Natasha's jaw tightened at your sarcastic remark, her frustration is evident in her expression. "I never asked for you to be like me," she retorted, her tone clipped. "And if you're feeling pressured, that's on you, not me."

You could sense the tension between you escalating, and you knew you had hit a nerve. But instead of backing down, you continued to push, fueled by a mix of defiance and annoyance. "Oh, please," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Don't act like you haven't enjoyed being put on that pedestal. It's not like you haven't reveled in being everyone's golden girl."

Natasha's eyes flashed with annoyance, her patience wearing thin. "That's enough," she stated firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. "I won't be dragged into your petty games. If you have a problem with me, say it to my face instead of hiding behind snide remarks." 

“I don’t have a problem with you,” You began. “It’s the simple fact that you’re committed to this whole mean girl serious chick schtick. You’ve insulted me fifteen times this morning without holding your breath or thinking about it. I simply want to know what’s up. So I’m asking? Last night we were cool. This morning it’s giving me an entirely new personality.”

“So, to get back at me you imply that I’m sleeping with my teammate?”

The accusation hung in the air, heavy with tension, as Natasha processed your words. 

"Implying? No," You retorted. "I merely observed a dynamic between teammates. If you took it as an insult, that's on you."

“I think you’re jealous,” Natasha commented. 

Your response was swift, fueled by a mixture of frustration and defiance. "Jealous?" you echoed incredulously, a flash of indignation in your eyes. "Of what, exactly?" Natasha's comment caught you off guard, the accusation striking a nerve. "I'm not jealous," you countered, your voice tinged with irritation. "I just don't appreciate being undermined and belittled at every turn."

There was a tense silence between you, the air thick with unspoken tension. Natasha's expression remained impassive, but there was a glimmer of challenge in her eyes, daring you to continue the confrontation.

“Jealous of that fact that I was welcomed into the group based on merit and skills alone,” Natasha gloated. “I didn’t need my government daddy to put a word in for me.” 

Natasha's words stung, hitting a nerve deep within you. You clenched your jaw, struggling to maintain your composure in the face of her taunting.

"Merit and skills alone, huh?" you replied through gritted teeth, your tone laced with bitterness. "Funny, considering the lengths you've gone to to prove yourself at every turn."

But you swallowed your pride, forcing yourself to remain calm despite the urge to lash out. With a tight-lipped smile, you met Natasha's gaze head-on, refusing to let her see how deeply her words had wounded you.

"Congratulations," You replied tersely, your voice cold and clipped. "I'm glad you're so proud of yourself. Now let's focus on the task at hand, shall we?"

The silence went on for a few seconds longer before you scrunched your nose. 

“And government Daddy?” You frowned. “Who the hell do you think is my dad?”

Natasha's expression remained impassive, her gaze steady as she delivered her next words with a calculated calmness. "I don't know," she replied evenly, "but I wouldn't be surprised if it's someone like Ross."

The mention of Ross's name sent a chill down your spine, stirring up memories of past encounters and the uneasy alliance you had with him. Despite your best efforts to distance yourself from him, his shadow seemed to loom over you like a specter, a constant reminder of the ties that bound you to the government.

“Holy Fuck,” You clenched your fists, struggling to contain the anger bubbling within you. "Ross?" you scoffed, your tone dripping with disdain. "He's nothing but a manipulative bureaucrat with his own agenda. I have no ties to him, and I certainly don't need him to vouch for me."

“Why is his name riddled all over your file then?” 

You felt a knot form in your stomach at Natasha's question, a sinking feeling settling in as you grappled with how much she knew about your past. "I... I don't know," you replied, your voice strained with uncertainty. "Maybe it's just... paperwork. I've had dealings with him in the past, but that doesn't mean he's my... my father."

Despite your attempt to brush off the implications, Natasha's piercing gaze bore into you, her scrutiny unrelenting. "You can't just dismiss it like that," she insisted, her tone firm. "There's a reason his name keeps popping up in your file."

You shook your head firmly, dispelling any notion of familial ties between you and Ross. "No, not because we're related," you asserted, your voice resolute. "I've made it clear before—I have no familial connection to Ross."

Natasha regarded you with a scrutinizing gaze, her expression unreadable. "Then why is his name so intertwined with your file?" she pressed, her tone insistent.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for Natasha's reaction to your explanation. "Spectra was deeply connected with the CIA," you began, your voice steady despite the lingering frustration. "Ross helped me out with some intel. Nothing more. Nothing less."

Natasha regarded you with a thoughtful expression, her gaze probing as she considered your words. "Is that all it was?" she asked, her tone cautious. "Or was it part of a larger plan to spy on the Avengers?"

You shook your head, the weight of Natasha's suspicion weighing heavily on you. "No," you replied firmly, meeting her gaze head-on. "I would never betray the team like that. Ross may have his own agenda, but I'm not a pawn in his game."

As Natasha continued to scrutinize you, a glimmer of realization crossed her features. "So what's the deal?" she asked, her voice softening slightly as she searched your eyes for the truth. "You're not exactly the type to strike up a deal with Ross without a good reason."

"It's complicated," You admitted. "But after Spectra's downfall, I was left vulnerable. Ross and Tony offered me protection, a way to defect from the shadows and start fresh."

Natasha's brow furrowed in understanding, though there was a hint of skepticism in her expression. "And what do they get out of it?" she pressed, her tone cautious.

You sighed heavily, knowing that Natasha wouldn't let up until she had all the answers. "Information," you confessed, the weight of your betrayal heavy on your conscience. "About Spectra.” 

There was a moment of silence as Natasha processed your words, the gravity of your situation settling over you like a suffocating blanket. 

“You’re an informant?” Natasha breathed. She knew it. She couldn’t believe this. 

You nodded solemnly, meeting Natasha's gaze with a heavy heart. "Yes," you admitted, the weight of your confession hanging in the air like a dark cloud. "I'm an informant."

Natasha's breath caught in her throat, her disbelief palpable as she struggled to come to terms with the revelation. "I knew it," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“Thank you, Kim Possible for knowing it all,” You rolled your eyes. 

“Who’s Kim Possible?” 

“And you’re still telling me you’re under thirty,” You mumbled. You rolled your eyes at Natasha's response, unable to resist a sarcastic retort

You couldn't help but chuckle at her bewilderment. "She's a fictional character from an old cartoon," you explained. "Always saving the day and solving mysteries. Thought you might appreciate the comparison."

“So, you gained immunity for your crimes then in exchange for information?” Natasha deduced. 

“Something like that,” You shrugged. “I’m an Avenger though because of my skills. I could have gone into a witness protection program or something.” 

There was a moment of silence as Natasha absorbed your words, the weight of your choices hanging heavily in the air between you. "I understand," she replied finally, her tone softening with understanding. 

“Do you? Because it seems like you want to use my past against me every chance you get,” You eased up on the accelerator. “I was a teen when I became a pawn for Spectra. They weren’t the cleanest government agency. None of them are. You may have involuntarily joined the Red Room but it’s not like I had much of a choice either. I was a poor kid from Jersey with no money or family. I did what I had to do to survive.” 

“I do understand,” Natasha nodded. 

“Look can we make a deal,” You sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day. “Can we just be cordial? We don’t have to be friends. I’m not expecting us to have sleepovers and braid each other's hair. I would simply like to make this work so that we get what we need out of this mission.” 

Natasha regarded you for a moment, her expression thoughtful as she considered your proposal. After a moment of silence, she nodded slowly. "Agreed," she replied, her voice firm. "Cordial it is."

You offered her a small nod of gratitude, relieved to have reached a truce, however tentative it may be. She reached into the backseat, grabbing something you couldn't see before you realized it was the magazine from yesterday. 

“What is your favorite type of nonsexual physical intimacy and are you satisfied with the frequency you receive it?” 

You blinked in surprise at Natasha's unexpected question, taken aback by its intimacy. For a moment, you were at a loss for words, unsure how to respond to such a personal inquiry.

Clearing your throat, you composed yourself before replying, "Um, well, I guess my favorite type of nonsexual physical intimacy would be... hugs? I suppose?" You offered a hesitant smile, feeling a bit awkward under Natasha's scrutinizing gaze. "I’m not really comfortable with a lot of physical touch. For personal reasons. And as for the frequency... I guess it's alright. I don't really think about it much."

Natasha nodded, her expression unreadable as she tucked the magazine back into its place. "Good to know," she remarked casually, as if she hadn't just asked you one of the most personal questions imaginable.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling a bit exposed by the exchange. But despite the awkwardness, you couldn't help but appreciate Natasha's attempt at breaking down the walls between you, even if it was in her own unconventional way. With a small nod of acknowledgment, you turned your attention back to the road ahead of you.