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nastybuckybarnes · 1 year

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Comfortable

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky finds out that you’ve never climaxed during intimacy and he’s not happy about that.

Warnings: Smut, Crying during sex, Overstimulation (mental and physical), Language, Fluff, Minor Angst but not really

Word Count: 2.8K

A/n: Kinda based on life but without bucky coming in and setting things straight lol. I’ve also got the first like 5 parts of a new series written, so that’ll be coming soon hehe. anyway, I hope you guys enjoy, and I love you all very much!

~*~

“I don’t know, Nat, I just... I guess I’m just never... I don’t know. I’m in my head a lot, I guess.”

The redhead snickers, elbowing her sister and sharing a look with her before both of their gazes return to yours.

“Barnes lacking?”

You shake your head quickly, trying to clear his name.

“No! No, God no! He just... it’s not him, it’s me. I think too much, I’m focused on making sure it’s good for him, making sure he finishes that I... I don’t know.”

Yelena purses her lips, “does he know he hasn’t made you cum yet?”

You swallow hard and shake your head, dropping your gaze to your lap.

“I... I fake it.”

The assassins exchange glances again and you huff a sigh.

“He’s good, he’s really good and he makes me feel good and I get close but... I just can’t... I can’t cum. And it’s not like it’s just him, I’ve never cum with anybody I’ve been with. I just... can’t do it. Maybe I’m broken,” you whisper that last part mostly to yourself, but both women jump in and shake their heads.

“It’s an intimate thing. You probably just want to feel one hundred percent comfortable with the person before giving that last bit of yourself to them. Orgasming with a partner for the first time is... intense. You should talk to him about it, tell him the truth and explain it. Maybe you guys need more foreplay, maybe you need to be in control more, but you’ll only figure it out by talking to him about it.”

You bite your bottom lip and shake your head at Natasha, “I don’t wanna hurt his feelings though, Nat. I just... how the hell do I gently tell him that he hasn’t made me cum and I've been faking it the whole time?”

Two sets of trained eyes dart over your shoulder just as you hear the door to your apartment shut.

Tension pulls your shoulders up and you squeeze your eyes shut, praying that he didn’t hear you.

The way the two Russians in front of you press their lips into thin lines gives you your answer, and you drop your head forward, hating the fact that this is now a conversation you need to have with your boyfriend.

“Well uh, I think we should take that as our cue to leave,” Yelena says awkwardly, pressing on a smile and offering Bucky a small wave as she rises to her feet, Natasha following after.

You stay rooted in place on the couch, refusing to even acknowledge his presence as he putters about in the kitchen, waiting until your friends leave before finally making his way into the living room.

Your eyes don’t leave your hands as he takes a seat on the floor in front of you, his hands, one cold and one warm, finding yours and squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to take deep breaths.

If you were to look at him, you’d see that his face is confused, not angry. Not a hint of anger could be found within him. If anything, he’s upset that you hadn’t told him before. That you didn’t feel comfortable confiding in him and telling him the truth.

The entire time he was under the impression that you were enjoying the sex and getting just as much out of it as he was.

“Why are you apologizing, sweet girl?”

You sniffle and shake your head, fear icing your veins.

You don’t want him to be mad at you and you don’t want him to feel offended.

“I just... I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head and reaches one hand up to cup your jaw, raising your head enough so that you finally, finally look into his eyes.

Your beautiful eyes are filled with tears and it makes his heart ache in his chest.

“Why the tears, honey, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head and sniffle, dropping your gaze only to raise it when he squeezes your chin.

“C’mon, sweet girl, you can talk to me. I... I don’t want you to ever be afraid to talk to me, okay? What’s got you so upset?”

You take a deep breath and squeeze his hand, trying to muster up your courage.

“I just... I don’t want to make you mad.”

He furrows his brows and shakes his head, absolutely flabbergasted at the fact that you think he’d be mad at you for being honest.

“Why would I ever be mad, baby? If you’re upset, I wanna know what I can do to make you feel better.”

You take another deep breath then slowly nod.

“I just... I know that sex is a sensitive topic for a lot of guys. Especially... their performance. And yours is great! The sex is great and I love it and you’re amazing! I just... I haven’t... ya’know. I never have with anyone else either. I’m starting to think that I can only do it by myself,” you whisper glumly, your shoulders sinking in.

Bucky is quiet for a moment. He’d already heard every word you’d spoken to Natasha and Yelena, and, he’s not gonna lie, it punches at his pride to know that his girl isn't enjoying it as much as he is. All he wants is for you to feel your best in every aspect of life.

“Well, why don’t we talk about this a bit more, huh? You said that it’s not just me, but everyone you’ve been with?”

He knows this isn’t about him, it’s about you, but he really hopes that you’re not trying to soften the blow. If other people have made you cum, he wants to know how and when and then he wants to cut their fingers off for ever touching you.

You nod, sniffling. “Yeah, I just... I don’t know if I get in my head too much or if I’m... not comfortable enough, but I just... I can’t.”

He nods slowly, trying to gather his thoughts and figure out a solution.

“What can I do to make you more comfortable, honey?”

You shake your head and push to your feet, hating every word of this conversation.

“I am comfortable with you, Buck. I just... forget I said anything, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

His long fingers wind around your wrist, stopping you from fleeing like you so desperately want to.

“It does matter, honey. It matters a lot, actually. I’m not mad and I’m not offended. I just... I want you to feel the same intimacy that I feel when we have sex. It’s... amazing. And I want you to experience it. So tell me how I can make you feel better.”

Your glossy eyes raise to his and, when you see nothing but honesty and love, you nod slowly.

“I don’t know what’s missing or what needs to happen. You’ve got me really close, but I just.. maybe I think about it too much? I don’t know.”

He cups your cheeks and presses the softest kiss to your forehead.

“You’re gonna need to direct me, baby. Next time, you’re gonna need to tell me what you like, what feels good, okay? And when you get close, you tell me and I’m gonna keep going until you actually cum, is that all right?”

You nod again.

“Okay.”

He kisses your lips gently then pulls you into a tight embrace.

“Okay.”

~*~

The next time the opportunity to be intimate arises, it’s after a small get-together at Yelena’s place.

You’ve already had a sizeable glass of wine, and now all you want is your boyfriend’s hands on your body.

He pushes open the door to your shared apartment, a grin on his lips as you pepper kisses along his jawline.

“Hey, sweetheart. You want something? Hmm?”

You nod, lips not leaving his skin as you push his jacket off of his shoulders.

“C’mere.” His metal arm dips beneath your thighs, hoisting you up, while his flesh arm wraps around your waist, keeping you held tightly against his chest as you wrap your legs around him.

He leads the two of you through the apartment and into the bedroom, laying you down gently on the bed and pulling away to pull his shirt off.

You shimmy out of your dress and toss it to the ground, leaving you only in your matching black lace set.

Bucky’s eyes devour your figure and he’s quick to shed his pants and join you on the bed, crawling between your legs and smoothing his hands over your thighs.

“How you feelin’, pretty girl? You okay?”

You nod, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as he looks at you like you’re the only woman on the planet.

And to him, you might as well be.

“You gonna let me eat you out, baby? Please?”

How could you possibly say no to that?

When you nod at him, he grins, beyond pleased, and slides his fingers beneath the fabric on your hips.

He pulls your panties down your legs and brings them up to his face, holding your gaze while taking a deep breath through his nose.

“Fuck, you smell good. Taste even better, though.” And with that, he situates himself between your thighs and flattens his tongue against you, licking you from your dripping hole up to your throbbing clit.

You sigh happily, fingers tangling through his hair as he works his tongue over your clit and dips two fingers into your heat.

“Just like that...” you whisper, your head digging into the pillows as he plays you like a fiddle.

He continues fucking his fingers into you, pausing when you give a particularly hard tug on his hair then repeating exactly what made you do that.

You can feel it slowly building, each pass of his tongue and thrust of his fingers brings you slightly closer, and you can’t help but feel your heart begin to race.

“Fuck... just like that, Bucky...”

He follows your instructions perfectly, doing exactly what makes you feel good.

He watches your face scrunch, feels your heels dig into his back and your nails scratch at his scalp and - Goddamn is this what he was missing out on? This is what you look like when you’re really about to cum?

It takes all of his self-control to not grab his phone and take a picture of you.

Your chest rises and falls more rapidly and your eyes are squeezed shut as your walls start fluttering around his fingers.

Fuck, you look gorgeous.

It’s such a strange feeling, having him bring you closer and closer to the edge. It’s so foreign yet so right and you tug at his hair and roll your hips up to his face.

“Bucky, I... I’m gonna.... oh fuck, please... I’m gonna cum, please!”

God, hearing that is like music to his ears.

He continues, bringing his free hand up to yours when you reach for it.

You interlock your fingers and grind your teeth together as your release washes over you, far more intense than anything you’ve ever been able to bring yourself.

A sound that’s half-moan half-gasp falls from your lips and you squeeze his hand harder while your walls clamp down around his fingers.

Bliss fills you, sparks flying from every nerve in your body, head to toe, and Bucky watches in awe.

He’s not sure how he believed you before when you were faking. The way you look when you cum is something he’s never going to be able to forget now.

Your body is wound so tight, your thighs clenched around his head and your nails digging into his scalp. Your walls are pulsing and clenching and, fuck, it feels incredible. He can’t wait to feel it around his cock.

He continues slowly fucking his fingers in and out of you while working his tongue over your clit, only pulling away when you tug your hips back.

He smacks his lips together and pulls away, his eyes connecting with yours.

Your chest heaves and your forehead has a light sheen of sweat on it, and you look like the Goddess you are.

“How you feel, baby?” He asks gently, smoothing his hands up your sides and rubbing his thumbs over the soft skin of your stomach.

You only nod at him, your hands coming to rest on his wrists.

“Words, baby. I need words.”

You lick your lips and take a deep breath before speaking.

“I feel good, Buck. I-I feel really good,” you whisper, eyes prickling with tears at the intensity of the moment.

He smiles lovingly down at you and leans in for a gentle kiss.

You taste yourself on his tongue and it makes the moment even more erotic.

“Gonna let me fuck you, baby?” He asks against your mouth, trailing his lips down your neck and kissing your skin gently.

You nod, sighing softly as tears trail back into your hairline.

He pulls back for a moment, just long enough to situate himself comfortably between your thighs and align himself with your entrance.

And then he’s pushing into you slowly, making you feel every single inch of it.

Your mouth drops open and your legs wind around his hips, pulling him even deeper than before. He’s pressing against every sensitive spot inside you and it feels heavenly.

“Fuck, you feel good, baby. Feel so good... God... nice n’ tight... wet... shit you’re like heaven.” He rasps the words against your throat, lips trailing up over your skin to rest on yours for a quick moment before he pulls back to gaze into your eyes.

“I love you, pretty girl. I really do.”

Your heart swells and you lean up to kiss him, gasping against his lips when he pulls his hips back and slams them forward.

He starts a steady pace, smoothing one of his hands over yours and interlocking your fingers.

“I wanna feel you cum for me again. Wanna feel it on my cock, baby. God, you look so pretty when you cum. Wanna take a picture of it and frame it, I swear.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and whine softly, arching your back and groaning when he hits deeper inside of you at the new angle.

“Right there... oh fuck, please...”

He buries his head in your neck, peppering the skin there with kisses while his free hand travels between your bodies to find your clit.

He circles the bundle of nerves with expert precision, lifting his lips to yours to swallow your moans.

You’re barely kissing. No, it’s more of just breathing each other’s breaths and moaning in each other’s mouths, but the intimacy is unmatched and the passion is flaming through your soul.

You wind your free arm around his shoulders, pulling him down to press more of his weight against you, and you can’t help but feel more secure and more comfortable.

“I... Bucky... I’m gonna... oh fuck.”

He nods, showering your face in kisses.

“Cum for me, honey. C’mon, please. I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

You can’t very well deny him when he’s asking you so nicely.

His fingers move against your clit faster and faster while his hips continue grinding into yours firmly, making your toes curl and your back arch further.

Your chest presses against his and you rake your nails against his back so hard you're sure you’re drawing blood, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

Not when you’re falling headfirst into the most intense and powerful climax of your life.

Your vision goes white and your ears start to ring, and all you can do is squeeze around him.

Your legs tighten around his waist, your nails dig into his flesh, and your walls clamp down around his cock as fireworks erupt in your belly.

Bucky fucks you through it, keeping his pace steady as you tremble and convulse beneath him, your mouth open as soft whines fall from it.

God, the feeling of you, all hot and tight and wet around him... he’s ready to die happily now that he’s gotten to truly experience the glory that is having you cum around him.

His pride swells and he can't help the way his ego inflates when he pulls his head back to look at your pretty face.

He did that.

He made you feel that good.

He’s the only man, no, the only person in the world besides yourself that’s ever made you cum. And he’s going to be the only one.

And now that he knows how to do it, now that he's gotten you there with his mouth and his cock, he’s never going to get enough of it. He’s gotta make up for lost time, doesn't he?

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imagine-knowing-a-name · 5 months

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A Study of Silence

Summary: Your life of married bliss is failing. A moment of heated arguing finally reveals the reason Natasha is pulling away from you, so you offer her the choice: stay or leave?

Word Count: 862

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warning: Angst

A/N: I wrote this at 1am when my flatmates set the fire alarm off, so forgive any mistakes lol. It's loosely based on 'Fluorescent Adolescent' by the Arctic Monkeys.

»»————-　★　————-««

Silence. Then the occasional turning of a page. In your mind, there are three types of silences: a comfortable silence, a suspenseful silence, and an awkward silence.

This fell firmly into the third category, but you made no move to change it - wondering instead how and when such an activity – sitting silently in your wife's presence – had turned from comfortable to awkward.

It hadn't happened just in this session: that was doomed to awkwardness from its start - but a month ago? a year ago? It was hard to recall a single moment of comfortable bliss outside of the early days of your relationship.

Everything had seemed so bright: an Avenger falling for a simple mechanic, a match made only in your dreams… though sometimes you wondered if it should ever have gone beyond that. She'd promised to quit her job for you, retire herself to deskwork upon marriage. "I want to do it," she had promised, "my love for you overshadows any job I do, and if this means I'm not spending months away from you and you're not spending months worrying, then it's an easy decision."

You swore your life to her then, showed her your love and your devotion. That love never faded. But where did it go wrong?

"My love?" you said. The redhead didn't look up from her book; you tried to see what it was, but she maintained her senses enough to shield that from your sights. With a sigh, you continued into the silence, "I was thinking maybe we could cook together tonight?"

She looked up now, fingers sightlessly marking the page. "Again? Didn't we do that..." she trailed off, searching for a memory, a recent excuse.

You finish her sentence for her: "last month? Yeah. I thought we could maybe do some bonding this month too, but nevermind."

"Y/N, we can-"

"You're clearly not interested, Nat, I'm not going to force you, so go hang out with your old Avengers buddies again and I'll make dinner alone."

There was a bite to your words that you knew you'd later regret, but in the moment you couldn't bring yourself to care. Fighting had become the only sure fire way to end the stagnant silences, and these days, neither you nor Natasha were afraid to use the method.

"You always do this," Natasha seethed, "they're my friends. I used to spend my every moment with them, living together, working together, everything! And I gave that up for you! You want me to give up even seeing them too? Would that finally be enough?!"

The silence fell again. A fourth type: one of contemplating, one of heated feelings and unwitting confessions and, finally, understanding. You understood. In her anger, Natasha had revealed the secret to it all, where it had all gone wrong.

You softened your voice, speaking quietly as if your wife were an injured animal, easy to startle. "I didn't make you give that up. I don't want you to give up more and I don't want you to blame me for your choices."

She stayed silent, though her jaw tightened and her eyes focused on a point behind you. You didn't have to turn to remember which picture lies there.

"I love you, Natasha," you confessed again, knowing it could be a last confession. "I love you and I want only the best for you. And if you miss the superhero days, the risk, the team, everything... if leaving that and marrying me is the mistake that's making you miserable, then I'm giving you the chance to undo that mistake. I don't want to be the reason you live your life in nostalgia and regret."

You didn't wait for her to respond, what was the point? Her gaze was still fixed on the picture behind you: the team in its heyday, when they were still young and wild and disorganised. She clang to until she got sentimental, forgetting that you had been the one to take the photo, right before Natasha became the first of the group to settle down.

Her response would come soon enough, you knew, so you went to your room and waited. You hoped for the eventual knock on the door, the long awaited conversation, then either the forgiveness or the conclusion. You hoped all through the evening, even as you cooked by yourself, ate by yourself, and slept by yourself.

A night with the Avengers might have been what she needed to make her decision.

Natasha Romanoff came into your life with a burning passion and a humanity to her that few people could ever achieve. You expected it to last forever, but come morning you realised the truth: Natasha Romanoff was a spy born and raised, and no amount of humanity can ever erase that from her.

Her ring was on your bedside table in the morning, the house left in a state of suspended silence. Natasha herself was nowhere to be found, disappearing like a spy, with no words spoken on the matter.

She had made her choice, just as you had made yours.

You loved Natasha too much to keep her; she loved you too little to stay.

»»————-　★　————-««

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 4 months

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Kinkmas (10)- Let It Snow

Natasha X Reader 18+

Summary: When a mission on Christmas Eve goes wrong and leaves you and Natasha stranded in a random cabin in the woods, you can’t help but be disappointed at the way you were going to spend your first Christmas together. Natasha, however, shows you that it’s not so bad being stuck together.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/Tags: Mentions of Missions, Brief Angst(?), Fluff, Teasing, Smut, Dom Reader/Sub Natasha, Soft Smut, Fingering, Oral Sex, Begging

Kinkmas Masterlist

Your gaze was firmly locked on the fire that crackled in front of you, eyes taking in every little flame that flickered and wavered, the orange hue illuminating the abandoned cabin the two of you had found, the warmth desperately needed.

Your body was pressed up against the redhead’s, front flush against her back in an attempt to keep her warm, your clothes draped over old furniture near the fireplace in hopes of drying it off, the fabric soaked as you trudged through the blizzard that occurred outside as you seeked refuge in the abandoned cabin. The two of you immediately searched for sheets to wrap up in, needing to take off the wet clothing and make a fire to prevent hypothermia, the two of you luckily trained to adapt in these situations.

So here you were, the two of you locked in an embrace in front of a fire, bodies wrapped up in old cotton sheets as your arms snaked around her middle, head resting atop of hers as you felt her shiver slightly, your eyes still transfixed on the fire in front of you both, lost in thought.

“Detka?” Natasha hummed softly, trying her best to read your body language and lack of communication as you sat silently behind her, your arms a little tense around her waist, legs seemingly unable to remain still as you bounced one of them slightly, nerves and discomfort evident in your features. She tilts her head back slightly, causing yours to move from her silky locks, eyes blinking as you look away from the fire to her mesmerising green, snapping yourself back to reality.

“Are you alright?” you ask as she looks at you curiously, gaze wandering over your features as she takes in your slightly red cheeks, the tip of your nose also red from the cold weather you’d previously endured, gaze lifting to the subtle way you scrunch your eyebrows, worry and confusion creeping onto your face.

“I’m fine,” she whispers back, honesty lacing her tone making your brows furrow a little more, confused as to why she was looking at you in that way, her fingers trailing down your forearms and down to your fingers, interlocking them softly, intimately, as she made sure you were alright, not used to seeing you like this after a mission. “Are you alright?” she asked cautiously, not quite sure as to what had caused this unusual mood from you, your gaze flickering away from hers nervously, the action not being missed by the spy. Something was definitely wrong.

“I’m fine, love,” you murmur back, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head, listening to the whistling wind outside and for anything or anyone else, your body still on edge from the mission, adrenaline still flowing throughout your body as you tried to remain calm and collected, pushing your slight paranoia to the side.

“You’re an awful liar, Detka,” she teases softly to lighten the mood, turning around in your arms and prompting you to let her hands go, your eyes naturally drifting down to the exposed skin that you could see before snapping back up to her eyes, the small smirk toying at the corner of her lips indicating she saw your gaze, cheeks tinting a darker shade. “What’s wrong?” she asks, fingers moving to play with the baby strands at the back of your neck as she straddled your lap, your mind trying to remember how to function with her sat on top of you like that, the dark spiral of thoughts about the mission seeming to fade from your mind.

“I…” you start but the raise of her brow and the look in her eyes has you pausing in your lie, a sigh of defeat leaving you as you snake your arms around her once again, wanting to pull her impossibly closer. “I don’t want to be here,” you mutter as your head rests against her shoulder, her fingers sliding up into your hair and scratching at your scalp, lulling you into a more relaxed state, body still a little tense though.

“Surely I’m not that bad as company,” she whispers once again with a slight teasing tone, your lips naturally pulling into a smile at her actions and words, her ability to calm you something you’ve always appreciated. “Why don’t you want to be here?” she asks, her tone soft and curious, waiting for you to answer and help her solve the mystery of your current mood.

“Because it’s Christmas Eve Nat,” you say, a little annoyance in your tone that wasn’t directed at her, more the Hydra agents that ruined your mission and made you miss your ticket out of the snowy terrain. Her green softened at your tone, her mouth parting a little, having thought you didn’t want to do anything special for Christmas. “I just- I just want to be home, with the team, with you,” you explain, feeling rather stupid for ranting, the secret plans you had going to waste, “Instead, I’m here, in this freezing cabin not knowing when we’re going to leave, if we’re safe. What if one of the Hydra agents followed us? What if-”

“Hey,” she says, cold fingertips cupping your cheeks and guiding you to look up into her green, her fingers brushing over your warm skin softly. “Don’t go down the spiral of what ifs,” she murmurs gently, knowing it was the worst thing to do after a mission, your eyes trained on hers, letting the emerald soothe you. “We’re safe and we’re together, just focus on that for the moment Detka,” her voice was wrapped in a comforting tone, your lips forming a small smile at the tender one she offers you, lips titling to briefly meet hers.

“I know but,” you trail off, a hint of doubt still gnawing at the back of your mind, “I think I’m going to check outside once more,” you say, letting out a heavy sigh as you go to move, her body on top of yours preventing you, her hands moving to your shoulders, firmly keeping you still.

“You’re not going outside to check Detka, we’re safe, I promise you,” her words are slow and laced with confidence and care, trying to emphasise to you her point, wanting you to stop worrying. “Plus, the weather outside is frightful, and the fire is so delightful,” she sings softly, a huff of laughter escaping you as you cast your gaze back up into her alluring green, unable to stop the small smile creeping onto your lips as you shake your head at her antics.

“Nat,” you whined a little, her simply chuckling softly, fingers trailing along your bare shoulders, dipping lower behind your back to lift the sheet back over you.

“You’re the one who mentioned Christmas,” she teases, lips pecking yours intimately as you melt against her body, arms wrapping back around her body and caressing her perfectly sculpted curves. “Promise me you’ll stop worrying, Detka,” she whispers as her forehead leans against yours, your eyes fluttering shut as you try your best to forget about the haunting mission, your mind focussing on her and only her.

“Ok,” you murmur back, tilting your head to catch her lips, claiming them briefly and further allowing you to delve into the thoughts about her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you wanted Christmas to be special,” she murmurs after a comfortable silence, your head pulling back from hers to look into her apologetic green, noticing each and every swirl of emerald overflowing with love. The two of you had never mentioned anything about the festive season so Natasha naturally assumed you weren’t a massive fan of it, your immediate response to shut anything down about it her biggest indicator.

“It’s ok,” you mumble but Natasha gathers that you don’t truly mean it, “It just means my surprise plan can’t fail because it can’t happen,” you joke, trying to make yourself feel a little better as the last few weeks of planning a surprise without her, the infamous Black Widow, figuring it out was difficult and involved a lot of effort on your behalf.

“You planned something?” she asks, her head tilting curiously making you smile sheepishly, an excitement and flood of warmth filling her at your thoughtfulness.

“Maybe,” you mutter, shrugging your shoulders innocently to tease her, knowing you were going to spill everything to her as you’d been waiting ages to see her reaction to it, it just sadly wasn’t going to be the way you wanted it to be.

“Tell me all about it, Detka,” she encourages, fingers returning to the back of your neck, her eyes slowly drifting across your features as you both admire one another, your thoughts successfully straying away from the mission entirely.

“The first step was to bring you breakfast in bed,” you explain, watching how her eyes soften as you continue, “I persuaded Wanda into helping me learn how to make syrniki,” the dish a traditional Russian cheese pancake you overheard Nat talking about once, saying how she hadn’t had them for years and craved them. Natasha’s heart was unable to process the overwhelming feeling of love bubbling in her chest, warmth enveloping her entirely as she can’t help but gaze at your wide smile, excitement replacing the worry in your eyes.

“Syrniki,” she corrects softly, your pronunciation a little off making you blush a little, remembering Wanda’s teasing comments on your pronunciation as you somehow kept adding syllables.

“Syrniki,” you try again, her smile growing a little wider as you say it correctly, your fingers trailing higher up on her back and tracing over the various muscles that twitched under your slightly cold fingertips, your mind thinking through rest of the plan, deciding on what to tell her. “I’d bring you those and traditional Russian tea before we go into the living area for a surprise,” your tone growing more excited, her brow raising expectantly at your words.

“Surprise?” She asks amused, a hint of curiosity lacing her tone as your genuine smile makes her ponder what it could be, the spy usually able to figure out what you were hiding. “I assume you’re not going to tell me then,” she whispers, leaning down briefly to let her lips ghost yours as you scrunch your nose cutely at her antics, knowing how she was going to try and trick you into giving her what she wanted.

“Nope,” you say while popping the ‘p’, claiming her lips cheekily as she can’t help but roll her eyes at you playfully, “You can interrogate me all you want, I’m not spoiling this one,” you murmur against her lips as she brushes hers over yours once again, her gentle breath caressing your mouth.

“Even if I use my very specific skill set on you?” she teases, tone dropping an octave as you merely chuckle at her seductive words, not wanting to give in despite the warmth pooling between your thighs.

“Nope,” you repeat, popping the ‘p’ once again to further torment her, her huffing a laugh out against you before melting further against your body, arching her back slightly to press further into your toned and warm body. “And then after the surprise,” you say, exaggerating the word to tease her even more, the surprise being a visit from Yelena as Natasha had struggled to locate her sister after the two of them met to save the Widows from the Red Room, having mentioned it to you multiple times how she wished to see the blonde again. “It’s present time,” you say, grin somehow growing as you think about the domestic scene of the whole team just spending time together, trying to be normal instead of heroes of the world for a moment and relax with one another. After that it was going to be the plan Natasha already knew with Tony and Clint bringing their children around, everyone in charge of helping out with the various bundles of joy and dinner Wanda was in charge of, the redhead excited to spend time with the mini Bartons as always. “Then, later on after dinner and the children have gone to bed, I was hoping to give you another present,” you murmur, a hint of suggestiveness underlying your words as her smile turns into a sultry smirk, her brow raising a little once again as you sit up straighter, letting your lips brush over hers again while your arm wraps around her waist, Natasha welcoming your subtle advances.

“Another present huh?” she sighs out as you lift her off your lap and flip the two of you around, gently laying her down on the old bear rug, the sheet sprawling behind her and accommodating the red locks that cascade down onto the cream material. “What does this present entail?” she softly murmurs as her fingers guide your head down to meet her lips, claiming them softly as her legs wrap around your waist, encouraging you to press your body into hers, one of your hands bracing you above her body and the other cupping her cheek, deepening the soft kiss.

“It involves me showing my girlfriend how much I love her,” you rasp out into a kiss, tongue effortlessly sliding into her mouth, the two of you fighting a little for dominance as the kiss gradually grows more intense and messy, the redhead eventually caving and giving in to your wet and wanting mouth, a small moan leaving her. Your lips tug into a smirk as she lets you take control, your mind fogging with desire as you pull back from the passionate kiss, panting for breath as a string of saliva connects your lips, her tilting her head back up to crash her lips back to yours, a sudden intensity and lust taking over you as your bare bodies press into each other, her nails scratching down your back satisfyingly. “How much I love her beauty,” you husk out, trailing your kisses along her sharp jawline, nipping occasionally to watch the creamy skin tint red momentarily, soft gasps leaving her at every teasing touch, her head lolling back and encouraging you to go lower. “How much I love her moans,” you whisper, mouth at the shell of her ear, a small groan leaving her as your hand drifts lower, nail scratching down her abdomen, feeling her muscles twitch and tense under your sinful touch, the pad of your finger resting at her hip bone, tracing idle patterns to make her head spin with arousal. “The taste of her on my tongue,” your tone sultry as you swipe your finger through her folds teasingly, coating your digit in the arousal that’s pooling between her thighs, Natasha’s heart pounding against her ribcage as arousal has consumed her sane thoughts, her eyes meeting yours and overwhelmed by the sheer amount of love in them, your enamoured gaze going straight to her core.

“Detka,” she sensually sighs out, your lips finding hers once again, pouring all your emotions into it as her back arches off the sheet slightly, giving you the space to slide your hand more comfortably between your bodies, your finger brushing over her clit and earning a soft moan in response, the sound causing a throb between your thighs. You drag your finger through her slick, spreading it around her wet sex as she moans once again, your head spinning with the thought of her as you work her up slowly, your lips a contrast to your steady pace as the two of you refuse to part, a mischievous idea entering your mind, your teeth gently dragging her lower lip down before releasing it, casting your gaze to her eyes, enticing her emerald to stay trained on you.

“It’s just a shame it’s not Christmas yet,” you murmur teasingly against her lips, pulling away from her body as far as you can before her legs instinctively wrap back around your body, her strong thighs effortlessly pulling you back into her.

“It’s Christmas somewhere in the world right now,” she reasons while pulling you by your shoulders back down, a chuckle leaving you as you return your hand to between her thighs, her teeth warningly nipping your lower lip at your playful actions. “Please,” she whispers against your lips and you can’t help but smile smugly at the pleading tone to her voice, her hand wrapping around your wrist and silently requesting you to give her what she desperately wants.

You move your finger back through the abundance of arousal that’s pooled between her thighs, sliding your finger to her clit and slowly circling it to begin with, your mouth claiming her lips once again, addicted to her soft, plump ones while her hands bury themselves into your hair, keeping you as close as possible. As you touch grows more confident and firmer, moans spilling from her lips and her hips rolling against your hand, you sigh into her welcoming mouth, the kiss that was feverish and teasingly full of tongue breaking off as she struggles to reciprocate it, your mouth descending down her jaw and the column of her throat, teeth scraping against the warm skin tauntingly.

You can feel the vibrations of her muffling a moan when you slide your finger down to her entrance, teasingly thrusting it in before sliding it out, coaxing her to chase your finger with her hips as she bucks against you, the redhead able to feel you smirking against her skin.

“I want to hear you,” you mumble against her neck as you continue in your journey down her body, a desperate sigh leaving her as you enjoy watching her give you control, the power going a little to your head. “You’ve got to tell me if you want something,” you tease, lips meeting the burning skin of her shoulder, your touch driving her delirious with desire as you toy with her body in all the right ways, every brief touch sending heat between her thighs, your finger coated in her arousal.

“Detka,” she groans, a little reluctant to beg just yet, your smirk growing wider as her body shows her desperation, your mind savouring this side of her as it was rare she’d let you be so in control of her body. “I…” She trails off as your mouth ghosts over her sensitive chest, tongue flicking over her nipple tauntingly, revelling in how she arches her back into your touch, fingers tightening their grip in your hair.

“You what, love? You need to use your words for me,” your words and dominant tone makes Natasha’s composure crack, an unrestricted moan leaving her lips as she gives in to submission, your lips pressing a gentle kiss to each of her breasts, your finger continuing to tease her entrance, waiting for her to tell you what she wants.

“I need you,” she whimpers out ever so quietly, eyes squeezed shut as she focuses on the way your mouth kisses everywhere but where she wants you at her chest, lips peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses along her soft skin. “Fuck me…Please,” she pleads, your head leaving her chest and claiming her lips passionately, your finger finally sliding into her earning a broken moan, pleasure jolting through her body.

“That’s it,” you praise as she moans into your eager mouth before you part from her mouth once again, letting the room fill with the sinful sounds that spill from her lips and the wet sound of your finger sliding into her dripping core at a torturous pace.

“Please Detka, Fuck,” she groans when you kiss lower down her body, teeth nipping at her hip bone as you slide your finger back in slowly, purposely taking your time with her as you intended to drive her mad with your touch, her eyes fluttering open and casting down to where you were, meeting your enamoured gaze as you curl your digit inside her, the redhead’s mouth parting at the feeling. “Shit, just like that, please do that again,” she practically begged as you thrust your finger back in, hitting her sweet spot perfectly while heat floods through you at the sound of her desperate voice.

“Do you need more, love?” You mumble against her skin as your mouth hovers over her intoxicating core, wanting to hear how desperate she is for you, your finger persisting with your deliberately slow pace, gradually building the pleasure within her as her hips gently rock against your hand, pleasure building at the pit of her stomach.

“Please,” is all she moans back in response, your resolve crumbling, unable to resist her anymore as your mouth licks a stripe up her core, moans escaping you both at the feeling.

Your wet and warm mouth sparks pleasure and delirium within her, her hips bucking up against you as you nuzzle your face closer, desperate to get a better taste of her heavenly arousal on your tongue, intending to show her exactly how much you love her.

The sound of her lewd moans and the taste of her on your tongue makes you lightheaded with the thought of her, addicted and constantly craving more of her as your tongue swipes through her folds, pleasure flooding through her body as you thrust your fingers into her faster, forgoing with anymore teasing as you couldn’t handle anymore, never mind her.

Her fingers tighten once again in your hair, nails scratching your scalp to create a dull pain while your hands wrap around her thighs, pulling her impossibly closer as you get lost within her, lips wrapping around her clit and sucking firmly as you focussed on every little reaction she offered you. You longed to forever remember the desperate moan that was ripped from the back of her throat at the way your finger curled and mouth sucked on her at the same time, the hitch of her breath as your tongue swirled around her clit, the way her body twitched as pleasure took over her, swiftly pushing her towards her release. You needed to remember it all.

Her hips soon started to roll against your mouth, coating your chin in her slick as your tongue lapped at her clit, alternating between sucking firmly and swirling your tongue around her, sinful sounds spilling from her lips as her body started to tremble in your grasp, her moans growing louder at you slide in another finger, stretching her out beautifully.

“Detka, I- Please,” are the only words that she can manage as one of her hands shoot down to grip the sheet beneath her, knuckles bleeding white whilst her other one persists in keeping your head between her thighs, needing you to push her over the edge. “Please don’t stop,” she groans as you curl both of your fingers against her sweet spot, her vision almost blurring at the overwhelming feeling of love and pleasure coursing through her body, your body desperate to watch her fall apart at your touch.

“Look at me,” you rasp out against her core, the vibrations from your words causing her hips to buck against you harder, a whimper leaving her at your tone. When her eyes stay squeezed shut due to the euphoria flooding through her, you ask her again, your tone dropping an octave to gain her attention, “Look at me, Love,” you repeat, lust and desire swirling in your eyes at you peer up at her between her legs, her body waiting for you to let it experience the wave of pleasure. When her emerald caught yours, it was like time froze for a moment, the way each swirl of green that were laced with desperation stared at you had you forgetting about everything else in the world but her. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, needed you to make her come, to fall apart in your arms. Fuck you don’t think you’d ever be able to get the sight out of your mind.

“Detka,” she moaned and you were gone at her pleading tone, a moan spilling from your lips as you curled your fingers perfectly inside her, tongue still lapping at her clit.

“Come for me,” you murmur against her, keeping your eyes on hers as you watch them roll to the back of her head momentarily, her head lolling back and showing off her defined jawline as her hips stutter against your face, body tensing. A broken moan escapes her at the amount of pleasure that floods through her, her fingers almost tearing through the sheet as she lifts it to her mouth, trying to muffle the small scream of your name as her release crashes through her.

Your lips pepper soft kisses against her inner thighs as she attempts to recover, your fingers tracing random patterns against her skin as you wait for her to look back down at you, your eyes admiring her, in awe of her beauty as she lays beneath you, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Soft pants spill from her lips as she moves her fingers in your hair, pulling you back up so you were hovering over her body, hand quickly wiping the remnants of her arousal off your lower face before kissing her softly, her arms wrapping around your body, wanting to keep you as close as possible, her red locks tickling your cheek as you press another kiss to her forehead, a soft chuckle leaving her.

“God you’re incredible,” she mutters, speaking her thoughts involuntary making you laugh as you roll onto your side, pulling her naked body into yours, wrapping the sheet back around the two of you as the fire crackles in the background, the warmth a gentle reminder of your situation, not that you minded anymore. You were with her, that’s all that mattered.

Upon feeling you smile smugly against the top of her head she moves so she’s hiding her face at the crook of your neck, rolling her eyes at your antics as she can picture the look on your face right now.

“Don’t even,” she mumbles, your body shaking a little as you try to stifle your laugh, unable to express the amount of joy that you were feeling.

“I won’t,” you whisper back, giving in this once as you didn’t want to ruin the tranquil atmosphere, her fingers travelling up and down your back soothingly, her gentle breath tickling your skin. “Thank you for distracting me earlier,” you murmur, truly grateful for her always being able to care for you, the simple act of asking you about your Christmas plans easing the worry that built inside you. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you say whilst pressing a kiss to her silky locks, her smile growing at your soft words, a hint of mischief appearing on her face.

“You'd probably still be staring at that fire,” she mutters playfully, another laugh escaping you as your heart melts in your chest, your nose pressing against her hair further and relishing in the smell of her shampoo, losing yourself in the domestic moment with her.

“Shush,” you mutter out in faux annoyance, the redhead smiling against your skin and nuzzling closer to your warmth, a relaxed sigh escaping her. “Merry Christmas Nat,” you murmur after a while, the comfortable silence lulling the both of you to sleep, your arms securely wrapped around her middle, the two of you locked in a tender embrace.

“Merry Christmas Detka,” she murmurs back, kissing your skin softly, unable to comprehend the love she has for you as the snow outside continues to fall gracefully from the sky, showing no signs of stopping.

#eventual smut #smut #natasha fanfic #natahsa romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha x reader #sub natasha #dom reader #12 days of kinkmas #kinkmas #reader insert #christmas smut #12 days of ficmas #12 days of smutmas #12 days of christmas

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lis-likes-fics · 4 months

Text

Delicious

Pairings: demon!Natasha x Reader Word Count: 5.5k words Prompt: Demon AU Warnings: NSFW, corruption kink, fingering, oral (f! receiving), multiple orgasms, strap-on, swearing... A/N: This is late and it's not very good. This would have been so much better but I have ADHD brain and I had to rush this a bit. Sorry, guys. But I hope you still like it! Thank you!

Natasha had never been in this shop before.

Drawn to a strange feeling coming from within, she wanders inside the little cafe and stares at its warm tones, letting her eyes wander the wall of books, the tables and booths, the counter where a beautiful waitress talks to a customer. She lays eyes on you and can feel the mischief twisting in her gut.

You are perfect.

The light that surrounds you is a beacon of…purity. Your tan apron wraps securely around your body, your hair is out of your face, your smile is brighter than the sun and snow outside. She can taste the innocence oozing off your skin like honey from a honey dipper.

You are radiant, and he can’t wait to hold you in her hands and see how dark she can make you.

A dark and charming grin spreads over her red lips as she walks up to the counter, waiting for you to give your warm goodbye to the last customer and offer a warm hello to the next. She steps forward and swears she could get drunk off your virtue.

You give her a bright smile, and she can see it shining in your eyes too. “Hi! What can I get ya?”

Natasha lets her green eyes wander the menu for only a moment, turning her gaze back to you as she speaks slowly, deeply, letting her rasp wash over you like a siren to a sailor. “I’ll have a mocha.”

You nod, picking up your notepad and a permanent marker to write her order as you take in the sight of her face. She’s beautiful. “And what size would you like that in?”

“Grande.”

You pick up the cup, nodding as you do. “Anything else?”

She looks you up and down, drinking you in some more before gauging what it does to you. You seem almost fidgety, flustered. She grins. “What do you recommend?”

“Well,” you chuckle lightly, “I am a sucker for our Christmas special—the gingersnaps. I shape them like little Christmas trees.” You illustrate your words as you pull your hands up to form a triangle, the closest you can get to the tree.

She raises her brows. “Oh, so you make them?”

You nod proudly, smiling widely as you set your hands on the counter. “I do!”

She hums. You’re adorable. “I’ll take it.”

“Alright-y! Will that be all for you?”

“It will,” she nods simply.

You grab her cup size and clutch the permanent marker. “And what’s the name on that order?”

“Natasha,” she purrs, watching you closely and letting her gaze openly drink you in to see how you’ll react. You’re so flustered already, practically melting at the sultry nature of her voice. “But I think Nat will do just fine.”

You start writing the name, “Nat” in pretty script. “Alright, Natasha. A grande mocha and gingersnaps coming right up!” You say her name like warm icing on cinnamon rolls, letting it drip over your skin like melted caramel. You look at her and smile fondly, shyly, your head tilted slightly down but your eyes glancing up at her nervously. “You have…a beautiful name, by the way.”

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head gently. You're hypnotized. “I can't tell if you're flirting or if you're just that nice.”

“O-Oh!” you say, your eyes widening slightly as she catches you by surprise. “Oh, I'm a really bad flirt.” You meet her eyes again and she sees you panic for a moment as you raise your hands. “W-Well, not to say you're not worth flirting with! I think you're very pretty—gorgeous, even. You're very—You're really–!”

She cuts you off with a hearty laugh, reaching a hand out to gently grab your own as she offers you an almost sly grin. “Relax, sweetness,” she bids. “I think you're absolutely delicious, too.”

“O-Oh,” you sigh, smiling as she eases your nerves. Then you realize, “Delicious?”

“Did I say delicious?” She shakes her head gently as if to say “silly me”. She pats your hand lightly before removing her soft fingers from you. She never looks away from your face. “I meant delightful.”

You nod before you speak. Natasha can't help but think how adorable you are, like the purest angel—but how they are in the movies, not the ones stuck up her ass all the time, calling her pest and rodent and vermin.

No. You would never say something so harsh. She can see it in you, the purest diamond. She wants to break you.

“Okay,” you speak softly—and you're so naïve, she thinks for a moment that you heard her thoughts and were offering yourself up to such exploitations.

She licks her bottom lip subtly. She can almost taste your honey. “What was my total?”

You seem to snap out of whatever thoughts run through your mind. “Well…” you clear your throat, “since you're so nice and I own this place… I'll give you the cookies on the house and bring your total down some.” You lean in, and she thinks you'll wink. “Our secret.”

She doesn't know if she thinks you're capable of holding secrets. But she's been around humankind so much, she knows there's always a secret lurking around the corner. You all just can't help yourselves…

“Nonsense,” she shakes her head. “I'd hate to do that to you.”

You smile gently. “Come on. Let me do this. You've been so nice.”

She scoffs gently, not offendedly. “Nice isn't a word people usually associate with me.”

You tilt your head, genuinely curious as to how someone so sweet could never be called “nice”. “What do they usually use?”

With a dark glint in her pretty green eyes, she smiles. “Sinful.”

“Sinful?” you mutter.

She shrugs a shoulder. “I've got a bit of a…mischievous streak.”

You smile sweetly. “And I like giving pretty girls free cookies.”

Natasha sighs, looking you up and down for the sole reason of flustering you again. “Well,” she says, “at least accept this big tip.”

“Tip?” you tilt your head.

“For a beautiful girl like you.”

She's done it. You clear your throat and nod. “O-Oh. Okay,” you say, watching her pull out her wallet. When she pulls out a hefty $50 bill, your eyes widen and you look like you'll have a heart attack. “Oh, this is too much! I can't accept this!”

She makes a pouty face, gazing at you with those pretty green eyes. She leans forward, and you feel yourself crumbling at the sight of her. “Oh, but you would break my heart if you didn't.” She slides the bill over and smiles, still presenting her puppy dog eyes as she lowers her voice. “You don't want to break my heart…do you?”

No. Never. How could you ever break the heart of someone so…her?

“I…” your teeth graze your bottom lip as you think to yourself before ultimately giving in. “Okay.” You slowly reach your hand out and hesitantly grab the bill, clearing your throat and feeling a little clammy for accepting the money as you put it in the pocket of your apron.

She smiles, but it's more like a smirk, a devilish curl of the lips that you don't quite label as dangerous, like you should.

“Good girl,” she purrs.

You don't know why that has such an effect on you. You feel yourself go limp but you stay standing as your eyes flutter and you feel the need to clear your throat again.

“While I'm in the charitable spirit,” Natasha says, satisfied with your obedience, “why don't you go out with me sometime? Got any Christmas plans?”

Your face is warm, the tips of your ears burn with the idea of going out with such a beautiful creature. As you think of your holiday plans, you shake your head. “Uhm, n-no.” Why can't you seem to speak today?

“No?” she says, her face drenched in surprise. “No dinner with family, an outing with friends?” She finds it hard to believe that a sweet girl like you has nothing to do for the biggest holiday season of the year.

But it's hard to have friends when you're all the way in New York and your family is all the way in California and all your friends are visiting their families or have their own friends to be with.

So, no… no plans for you.

“No,” you smile, almost sadly. “Nothing for me this year.”

Natasha almost thinks she's taking pity on you when she asks this, rather than forming her own plan to taint your white ledger.

“Well, I've got no plans. You've got no plans.” She smiles and reaches her hand out to brush your fingers. “Let's fix that.”

“O-Okay,” you stutter.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

She nods, pleased with you. “I'll meet you here, then. Seven o'clock, Christmas day. Dress to impress.”

You smile sweetly. “Always do.”

“I can see that,” she says, looking you up and down with an appreciative glance.

You smile widely, a grand smile that puts the sun to shame. “I'll have your order right out.” You pick up your pen and dot the notepad you have her order written on.

Natasha nods before turning and walking toward a tiny table by the window, the morning light still pouring in, even as the morning slowly dwindles into noon. She watches you as you work, her eyes glued to your body as she follows you everywhere.

You really are just so…pure. She was thinking it may have been a façade to make the customers feel welcome, but one look at you, one sniff of your perfume, one word from your sweet lips and she knew you were sweet as sugar. Pure.

She hasn't met someone this pure in a very long time, if ever.

And you would taste divine.

“Nat.”

Her name said by such honey-tainted lips pulls her from her thoughts. She rises from her seat and makes her way to you once more.

Your smile is already ready, and just so sweet. “I hope you enjoy. Thank you for coming and…” you smile, biting your lip briefly, “I'll see you soon.”

“Thank you…” Her gaze darts down to your nametag, reading the letters one-by-one to savor the taste of it. She says your name like she's making love to it. You shudder. “Beautiful name.”

“Thank you,” you speak, your voice so soft and gracious she could have mistaken it for a whimper.

Natasha grabs the cup and the box of cookies, her fingers intentionally brushing yours as she speaks. “Christmas day. Seven. Don't forget.”

You shake your head. “I won't.”

She smiles. “Goodbye, angel.”

You nod quickly, too excited to see her again. “Bye, Nat.”

She walks out of the little cafe, her treats in hand. She lets the door close behind her, lets the bell ring about her head. Once she's out of the coffee shop but still in your view, she takes a sip of her scorching hot coffee like it's nothing and sighs. Even the coffee is as pure as you, perhaps because it was made by such hands.

She turns her head to see you watching her through the window and just nods. She watches your fluster, nodding proudly back to her before trying to look busy.

She can't wait to devour you.

You don't know how you got here, with your back pressed to your bedroom wall, with Natasha's hands smoothing underneath your shirt to touch the bare skin of your waist, with your lips molding perfectly with her own like they were made to fit together.

You'd gotten to the cafe an hour early, pretending—even to yourself—to tidy the place since you were closed for the holiday. Natasha showed up five minutes late, but fashionably so. She was beautiful; a pretty blouse red as blood, dark slacks tight around her waist and loose the rest of the way down, a black coat draped down past her knees.

The air was knocked from your lungs. She was beautiful.

Her eyes examined you, and she was impressed. You wore a short, long-sleeved, cream-colored dress and skin-colored tights to fight the cold. An angel.

She’d taken your hand and kissed the back of it, telling you how beautiful you were—though you swear you heard her say “delicious” again.

Then she took you to dinner. It was a nice restaurant, somewhere cozy with really good food. She paid for your food and for dessert, and you told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then she took you ice skating. She held your hand the whole time and paid for you, and you told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then she took you on a late night walk through the park. She held your hand and kept you close and told you that the moon looked beautiful on your skin. You told her she didn't have to, but she insisted.

Then when she walked you home, telling you how beautiful you were at the doorstep and taking your hands and pulling you in for a gentle kiss, you smiled and kissed her back. Then she kept kissing you, and you kept kissing back.

And it turned into you opening your door and letting her inside, kissing her some more and offering her coffee, only to have her tell you that she had everything she needed right here.

Hands wandered, then lips wandered, then she pressed you into the wall, and now she's got you laid out on your bed, still fully dressed and so, so hot.

She leans over you, inhaling the scent of your perfume with a sigh as she keeps kissing you. You hold her, your arms wrapped securely around her neck to keep her close.

Her teeth graze your lip, struggling to refrain from biting so hard, she draws the sweet syrup of your blood. You lean into her touch, keening against her and longing to savor the flavor of her name on your lips as you whisper, “Natasha.”

She wraps her hand around your throat as her mouth trails down to your neck, to your collarbone, feeling your pulse beating rapidly under the skin. Her teeth sink into your flesh, and she chuckles deeply when your breath hitches.

She could just as easily crush your windpipe if she wanted to. She could snap her fingers, and you'd be reduced to nothing but a pile of ash and bone.

But where was the fun in that?

No, she would savor you. She would lick your skin and taste the sweet ambrosia you'd create all for her. She would carve her name into your flesh with the bite of her claws. She would sink her sharp teeth to the bone. She would make you scream until the only word you knew were the letters of her name.

Her hand dips low under your dress, gripping your thigh as she slowly moves it up, up, up, her fingers digging into your skin as she does. Your eyes flutter shut, resorting to just feeling her as she touches you any way she likes. She hums deep in her throat as she pulls back to look at you, riding your dress up and pulling your leggings down so she can see the pretty panties you wore for her.

“Mm,” she sighs. “You look delicious, darling.”

Your tiny chuckle comes out as a breathy moan. “Don’t you mean,” you whimper slightly as her sharp nails dig into your skin as they make their way down your leg, the stinging sensations exciting you more than she initially thought. Corrupting you will be easy. “Don’t you mean ‘delightful’?”

Her hand around your throat tightens just a slight, not enough to constrict any airflow, but just enough for you to feel the warmth of her palm against your skin. “No,” she rasps. “I mean delicious.”

She manages to get your tights off, humming appreciatively at your lacey panties before ripping those off your body instead. You gasp lightly but say nothing else, allowing her to do as she wishes as you sit back and enjoy it.

Your hips jerk when her thumb teases the skin of your mound, dipping between your thighs just enough to press it lightly to your clit. Your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling in quick succession as she presses her thumb so lightly, you wonder if she’s actually touching you. She teases you like this for a moment, feather-light touches that make you so desperate for her.

“Tasha,” you whimper. “Please, I need you.”

Her eyes glint at the way you plead for her. Already, you’ve begun to beg. You’re so responsive, so sensitive to her touch. One would think you were untouched, but no… She would be able to smell that off you, and she smells that this is not the first time someone has been between your legs.

How precious you are. Tainted but still so unspoiled.

The pad of her middle finger grazes your slit, teasing you further as your body keens for her touch. “Say it one more time for me, baby,” she whispers in your ear. “Say it. ‘Please, I need you.’ Lemme hear it.”

You whine gently, letting one hand travel to her hair to let your fingers card through the softness of her red locks. You let your bottom lip pass between your teeth before you gladly obey her. “Please,” you whisper, lifting your hips to meet her. “I need you.”

Proud of herself, and of you, she slips her finger inside of you, sheathing it in the warmth and wetness of your body. You hum, closing your eyes. “How is that, angel?” she smiles, watching your eyes dart behind your closed lids.

You nod, parting your lips as a breath passes through them. “Yes.”

She grins devilishly. “Good girl.” She rewards you with another finger in the tightness of your slickening pussy. You reward her with another little whimper. She pumps them slowly, in and out of you, pushing them deep to feel every little part of you before allowing herself to pull out and do it again.

She curls her fingers inside of you, a come hither motion making your lips round into a ‘o’ shape. You whisper her name again, gently begging her for more. More closeness, more pleasure, more her.

She pumps them slowly, massaging your spongy walls as you begin to move your hips to the rhythm. “More?” you whimper, still so polite as you beg her for a request. And how could she say no when you’re as sweet as you are?

“You want more of me, angel?” she smiles. “I’ll give you some more.”

She dips down to kiss your collarbone again before she pulls her fingers out of you and laughs at the way you whimper, a pathetic little sound at the loss of her touch. Before you can begin to protest, you hear her snap and feel the zipper at your back begin to zip down your body. But you have no time to question her, as her lips attack yours between the time it takes to pull the dress over your head and off your body.

You don’t seem shy when you are laid bare to her. You keep holding her and kissing her, forgetting your confusion and shock before in favor of tasting the spice of her lips. She pushes you back onto the bed, abruptly separating you, even as your hands stay attached to her arms just to feel her soft skin.

She leans down over your body and lets her kisses ghost over your flesh, a phantom of herself teasing you. You feel her warm breath at the juncture of your thighs and want nothing more than to feel her tongue next. And it seems your prayers are answered when the hot muscle of her tongue flattens against your wet pussy and licks the arousal she’s pulled from you.

She’s happy to listen to the way you whisper her name under your breath when her lips wrap around you, allowing her tongue to plunge between your folds and fill you with pleasure. You moan and grind your hips against her face. She has to hold you down, chuckling darkly as she continues to lap at your needy core.

She sucks around your clit and swirls around your folds, tasting the sweetness you bear with a deep hum. “You taste just as delicious as you smell,” she rasps, kissing you messily. “This body is so…divine.” You melt under her praise, your hands tangling in her hair as your chest heaves.

Her fingers join her tongue once more, stroking and spreading and slipping in and out of you with the sole goal of tasting more of your sweet, sweet honey. “Natasha,” you moan. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? That’s a new one. Out of all the words in the Urban dictionary that can be used to describe Natasha Romanoff, sweetheart is not among them. Still, it’s sweet, and she thinks you’re adorable for thinking that way.

Natasha devours you, feeding off your moans like they are the essence of her being. Her hands grip your flesh and her tongue delves inside of you. She replaces her tongue with her fingers once more, pumping them in and out of you, curling against that sweet spot hidden deep within you. Your back arches and your moans get sucked up into the walls of your bedroom, pitchy and full of breath and desperation. You need her like you need air.

You moan her name again and she knows you’re close by the way your pussy tightens around her fingers, the way your clit pulses between her lips, by the way your fingers begin to tug at the locks of red hair you have tangled between them. She works harder, so eager to taste your nectar.

You hurdle over the edge with a loud, gasping moan. She holds you securely atop the counter, fingering and licking at your pussy as you gush around her, easing you through your orgasm. You chant her name under your breath, riding out your high against her face as she keeps building you up and prolonging your release just so she can continue to suck on your offerings, like the sap from a maple tree.

The last sparks of pleasure shoot through your limbs, in your belly. Your hips jerk when her fingers curve inside of you just a slight. She pulls them out and pulls away and licks her lips like she’s gotten sugar smeared all over them. “Oh, my angel,” she rasps. “Like heaven on earth.”

And you think she’s done as you will yourself to sit up, offering a sweet smile as you pull her in to kiss again, fully intending on seeing if she tastes just as “delicious” as she keeps telling you that you are.

But she breaks her kiss and stands off the bed and to her feet. You sit back, watching her pull her blouse over her head as her eyes stay glued to your beautiful body. She slips her lacey, only-for-decoration bra from her body to leave herself in nothing but her slacks.

You gaze at her, taking in the perfect hour-glass of her body and gawking when she steps out of her slacks and presents you with the strap-on she’s been hiding all this time. She watches the way you stare at it, smirking to herself as she stalks back over to you, leaning on the bed with her knee. “You like?” she says.

You bring your gaze up to her face, swallowing thickly and feeling embarrassment warming in your face for staring. You just nod. She chuckles, cupping your chin with her hand and shaking her head. She thinks you’re adorable.

She slides the hand around to your neck, cupping you there and pulling you in for a kiss. You moan, leaning into her. “But what about you?” you whisper, pressing your hand to her side and stroking your fingers over the skin.

She shrugs, “Don’t worry.” You miss the small wave of her hand behind her back as she lets her magic wash over her, connecting her own pleasure to that of her strap as she’s done a million times before. But you don’t need to know that. You don’t need to know the extent of her inhumanity. It isn’t important to the pleasure she derives from getting to taint something as pure as you. “It’s double-sided,” she lies.

You don’t get to protest because her lips are already on yours again. She slides her fingers through your folds again, swallowing your moans as she lays you down on your back and spreads you wide open for her.

As you're distracted by her kiss, she thrusts inside of you with a deep moan. You break the kiss, laying your head back and letting out a whimper of your own as she fills you, stretches you open for her as your tight pussy adjusts. You whisper her name like a prayer, and she moans yours like a sin.

She gives you only a moment to adjust to her size before she's moving her hips, a slow and steady in and out as she gets herself used to the feel of you, and oh… You definitely do not disappoint as you squeeze her cock like a vice.

“Fuck, my angel,” she laughs to herself. “You're fucking perfect.”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders and savor the strokes of their cock inside you. “Please, Tasha,” you mutter.

She likes the way Tasha sounds. She's never been called Tasha before, her nickname has always been Nat. But the way it sounds falling from your lips, like a spell seeping into her skin and pulling her under your enchantment.

And it's hard to deny you when you look as precious as you do.

Her cock slides in and out of you in long, slow strokes as she fills you to the brim. You bite down on your bottom lip, your eyes closing as you breathe long, heavy sighs at the feelings she thrusts into you.

The desire for you, the desire to tear you apart invaded every little crevice of her being as she lost herself to more and more of her urge to fuck you desperate. She wants to hear your angelic voice beg a demon to fuck her nice and deep. She wants to see you fall apart, become a sinner all for her.

She grips your hips tightly, her rough thrusts no longer forgiving as she decides to take you how she wanted. You moan and whimper as your legs climb her waist until they're wrapped around her. She holds your thigh and just keeps thrusting.

You stutter her name, your capacity to remember anything else already slipping. She thrusts into you with all the passion in the world.

And then she pulls out at the pique of your wanton moans. You mewl and uselessly grab at her arms and waist. She separates from you with a sigh and ignores your attempts at bringing her back in, turning you on your stomach instead.

She thrusts inside without another word, filling you up from behind as you let your head hang. “There you go,” she husks. “That's better. Now I can fuck you like a whore.”

You moan, gripping the sheets and letting her do as she pleases. She keeps fucking you, relishing in the building sound of her hips smacking against your slick skin, the sound of you practically crying at the feeling of her fucking you so roughly making it harder to hold back.

“P-Please,” you stutter, clenching harder at the feeling. “Please don't stop. You're…amazing.”

Your gentle praise spurs her on more than she'd intended. She presses her finger to your clit and begins to rub fast, tight circles over it. She wants to feel you come undone. The more you cum on her cock, the more tainted you become with her darkness.

Her cock spears into you, pulling the dirtiest sounds from you as they echoed in the room—skin on skin, wet against wet. Your mouth falls open and you let out breathless cries accompanied with their own pleasured tears as they slip down your cheeks.

It feels so good, and you're going to cum.

You feel your body getting ready for it, building up higher and higher until you can do nothing but moan Natasha's name and shake upon your crashing release.

“Tasha,” you whine, dragging the last syllable out and breaking off into a pathetic moan. She keeps fucking you, groaning roughly as you clench so tightly around her. You gush and moan and she can't help but to fuck you just a little harder.

And when the orgasm melds to a little tremble, she keeps going. One of her hands wraps around your throat, tightening just a bit. She likes to feel her veins thumping under her palm, she likes to feel your life in her hand.

And apparently, so do you as you wrap your hand around hers and hold it securely there. Her eyes close as your pussy tightens, her thrusts become rougher as your moans become louder. She is going to make you cum again, she's set on it.

Your legs are a trembling mess, your arms are slowly dwindling in the strength they need to hold you up. “Please,” you mewl again. “Please don't stop, Tasha. I need you so…fucking bad.”

She feels successful. That's the first time she's heard you curse, and she's so excited to have spoiled your tongue with such a word. She rubs your clit again, wanting to reward you.

“I want you to cum for me again, angel,” she rasps. “All over me. Come on.”

Her thrusts are becoming sloppy, so absorbed in her oncoming release as she readies herself for your own. She pulls you back to meet her thrusts, rough and fast and deep as she continues to build you up.

You moan loudly as the pleasure builds and builds until it snaps. You throw your head back, crying out as you cum with the tight squeeze of your cunt. The warmth and the wetness of your pussy is too much as Natasha follows after you. She moans deeply in her throat as she grinds roughly inside of you, burying her cock in your pussy as if she was cumming in you to give you a deeper taint of your purity.

You allow your arms to give out as you fall forward onto the bed and muffle your moans into the sheets. She keeps gripping your hips tight, still riding out her high as she moans your name and lets out a string of curses.

Your whole body is shuddering by the time both your pleasure is reduced to tiny spasms through your limbs. She thrusts her hips a couple more times before pulling out of you with a long sigh.

You roll onto your side, lazily lying there as you glance up at Natasha with heavy eyelids. She runs a hand through her hair and gathers herself, looking down at you as the pride shimmers in her eyes and her chest.

She watches you, smiling, though she can't help a prickle of confusion when she takes in the sight of you. You lay there, half-asleep and completely spent, bare and vulnerable and exploited by her darkness.

And, yet, you look every bit like an angel as when she first met you. You look just as sweet, smell just as sweet, smile at her just as sweetly.

“Thank you,” you whisper sweetly. She watches you, watches as you pat the spot next to you and cast your innocent eyes on her.

And she's curious, so she lays down where you offer her a spot. Then you cup her cheek with the palm of your hand and kiss her, a long and slow and gentle kiss that Natasha becomes conflicted with as she leans into it.

Then you wrap your arms around her body and pull her in tight so she can't escape—or, she could… but she won't. All that time spent trying to corrupt you, and you're still the virtuous little angel she met at the coffee shop, cradling her in your arms and kissing her forehead and thanking her for the night of passionate fucking she'd just given you.

There is a warmth in your arms that Natasha hasn't felt in a long time. She's not quite sure if she's ever felt a warmth like this. She leans into it, she feels herself succumbing to your purities, despite her best efforts.

Curious, she lets you hold her, even longer after you had fallen asleep as she could safely slip away into the night, never to see you again.

But, no… You intrigue her. She couldn't leave now, especially if there was still so much virtue left in you. She will have to stick around. Yes… she will have to keep you a while longer.

You are a rare delicacy. She couldn't let you go to waste.

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writerslittlelibrary · 1 month

Text

Don't worry about a thing

masterlist

summary: your parents needed the extra money, even if it meant making you work for it. what happens when two women disagree with your parents methods?

pairing: dark!Wandanat x teen reader, dark!Yelena x teen reader, dark!Melina x teen reader, dark!Bucky x teen reader, dark!Alexei x teen reader

warnings: alcoholism, dark Wandanat, dark themes, kidnapping, it’s kinda fluff as well

genre: angst, fluff

words: 2690

a/n: this kinda turned from dark!wandanat to a very soft fic. I mean, reader still gets kidnapped, but Wandanat are so sweet about it… :)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

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You had been working in the cafe for a while. Your parents needed the money, and to be honest, you needed it too.

Your parents had been drinking since you were a young child, and you now you were a teenager, which means it is legal for you to work. Your parents didn’t hesitate to push you towards a job. With all their money going to alcohol, they needed your money for either food, or more drinks.

On the side, you would save a little bit of money, trying to save enough to hopefully one day go to college.

Today it was a day like any other.

You had just gotten back from school, and you went to the cafe immediately. However, this time was a little different. For the last couple of weeks, you had the weird feeling that someone was watching you. There had been a few people that asked about a lot of details from you, which creeped you out a bit.

At first, it was a red-headed woman. She looked to be around her thirties, and she was very kind.

Then, there was a brown haired woman. She asked how you were doing, whether you were still in school, and also how you would be getting home. She seemed concerned for your safety. After all, it had been late that day.

Then, a blonde haired woman had walked in. She went into the cafe with a dog, and after ordering for herself and her dog, she offered to walk you home. You had told her that you were fine, and that your father was picking you up, but as usual, he hadn’t showed up. The woman insisted on walking you home, and you had allowed her. What was the harm, right? She was very kind and respectful, and her dog was nice.

After that, you had a week of boring people, as usual. People who didn’t give a single shit about your life. People that only cared about the fact that they had been waiting on their coffee for five whole minutes.

You figured you had just been imagining things, and that the three women you had met where just genuinely kind.

However, after that week ended, weirdly invasive people started to come into the cafe again.

At first it was a man. He was wearing gloves, and he looked a little scary. His hair was brown, and he was tall and looked strong. However, when he ordered you decided he was actually very sweet. He talked with you the entire night, thanking you when you served him his drinks and food, and he tipped very well.

A week later, this week, you spotted the red haired woman from a few weeks ago sitting at one of the tables.

She wasn’t alone this time. The brown haired woman, who you had seen earlier as well, was sitting beside her. You walked up to them with a smile, pushing your odd feelings down and getting ready to serve them just like any other day.

The women smiled at you, and after giving you their order, they continued a conversation of their own.

You brushed your anxiety off of yourself, making their drinks and continuing with your shift. However, after serving them and getting back to another costumer, the man you had seen earlier walked in. He looked a little angry, but smiled kindly when he met your eyes. You smiled back, but before you could ask for his order, he went to sit down with the other two women.

Again, you didn’t think much off it, rather just pushing the anxiety away and continuing with your job.

It started to get really weird, though, when the blonde haired woman walked in. She was accompanied by her fluffy dog, which didn’t hesitate to greet you with a wagging tail. You bent down to pet him, when you noticed a slightly red streak running along his fur.

You went to brush your hand over it, but the dog retreated back to it’s owner.

She smiled at you and stopped at the bar, ordering the same thing she ordered a few weeks ago. After doing so, she went to sit down with the other man and women. Why did they know each other? Had it been a coincidence that you had all seen them before? Were they watching you?

You shook the thoughts from your head, preparing the woman’s order, putting some whipped cream into a cup for her dog, before bringing it over to the table.

You put it down with a smile, grabbing the empty two cups and asking if you could get them anything else.

“We’re alright, sweetheart,” the brown haired woman spoke with a gentle smile.

You nodded and retreated back to the counter, ready to serve other costumers, before you realised, there were no other costumers.

The entire cafe was empty, minus the four people sitting in the corner.

Odd, this was usually such a busy time.

You didn’t think much off it, rather deciding to start cleaning up a bit in the hopes of getting home earlier tonight. When you were about to shut off the coffee machine you heard the little bell ring, indicating that another costumer had walked in.

You turned to look at them, discovering that it was a tall, large man. He had tattoos covering his arms, and a long beard. He was followed by a woman, who smiled at you before she pulled the man over to the table where the other people were sitting. You hadn’t seen them before, but you did find it odd.

When your colleague told you she was heading home for the night, you agreed to closing up, telling her to get home safe.

After she left, you glance over at the table impatiently. They had been sitting there for hours, and you wanted to get home on time tonight. You still had a few tests to study for, and there was a project you were supposed to hand in yesterday.

You stood impatiently at the counter until the blonde woman walked up to you. You had hoped she wanted to pay, but instead she simply asked for a donut.

You hid your annoyance and got her what she wanted, smiling at her when you handed the sweet treat over.

“How are you getting home today?” she asked as she took the donut from you, taking a bite.

“My father was supposed to pick me up, but I suppose I’ll be walking once again,” you replied, closing the treat cabinet.

“I can give you a ride if you’d like. My parents are probably leaving with my sister anyway, so there will be a car left that I’ll have to drive,” she explained, giving her dog a few pets when it excitedly walked over to her. She snuck the dog some pieces of the donut while praising her for being such a good girl.

“That’s very kind, but I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you replied, not wanting to get into a strangers car.

“Don’t be silly. It’s no problem, I promise. A young girl like you shouldn’t be out on the street alone at this time. It’s dangerous, someone could hurt you,” the woman reasoned, and you thought for a moment before agreeing.

It did seem dangerous to walk home alone in the dark, and this woman was very kind. There was no way that she would hurt you.

“If you’re certain that it won’t be a problem…” you said, and you watched the woman shake her head.

“Of course not. Besides, Fanny would love the extra cuddles,” the woman explained, giving her dog, Fanny, a few scratches behind her ears.

You turned around, missing the sign the woman gave to the other people at the table. They got up, walking towards the door. The red headed woman stayed behind, telling the others she would be there soon.

She walked over to the counter, giving Fanny a few pets before pulling out her wallet.

“I’d like to pay for the whole table, please,” she told you as she grabbed her card. You nodded and typed in the amount on the device.

After paying, she thanked you and walked out of the cafe.

“I’m Yelena, by the way,” the blonde woman said as she waited for you to close everything up. “I’m y/n,” you told her, locking the register and walking out from behind the bar.

“This way,” she said as she led the way out of the cafe, waiting for you to lock the door before opening the door of her car.

You were about to get in before Fanny jumped into the car before you, settling in the middle of the couch chair. Yelena drove a truck, so it was easy to fit three people on the chair. You got in after Fanny, sitting beside her and petting her head when she laid her head on your lap.

Yelena got into the drivers seat, closing the door and starting the car.

“Here, you must be thirsty after working for so long,” she said as she handed you a bottle of water.

“Thank you,” you thanked her as you opened it, taking a few sips.

“Who was your sister?” you asked Yelena after a little while. She turned to you with a smile, rubbing Fanny’s fur.

“The red head, Natasha. She’s my sister. The big guy, with the long beard, that’s my dad, and the woman with dark brown hair is my mom,” Yelena explained, focusing back on the road. “The cafe you work at is close to our work space, so we come there a lot, but we’ve never been there together.”

“What kind of work do you do?” you asked her curiously.

“We take care of business. Make sure people pay… taxes… that sort of stuff,” Yelena explained, although she weirdly paused before mentioning taxes. You nodded, focusing on the world outside.

After a few minutes of silence, you started to get a bit dizzy, grabbing onto the dashboard to steady yourself as black spots took over your vision.

“Everything alright?” Yelena asked, concern lacing her voice.

“Just a little dizzy…” you explained, taking a few deep breaths in the hopes of clearing your vision.

“That happens sometimes after doing a lot during the day, especially for girls your age. You should drink a bit more water and take a few deep breaths. It’ll pass,” Yelena told you, and you nodded as you gulped the leftover water in the waterbottle down.

You sat back, taking a few deep breaths and looking out the window, suddenly noticing the road you were at didn’t look familiar.

“This isn’t my street…?” you asked Yelena, who merely shrugged.

“There is construction that way, so I figured we’d avoid it,” she reasoned, turning on her turn signal and steering into another unfamiliar road.

You were about to protest, but the spots in your vision took over nearly everything, and you suddenly felt to dizzy to talk. You tried to say something, but you couldn’t even remember what happened after as you lost consciousness completely.

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

You groaned slightly when you woke up, the sun blinding your vision as you covered your eyes with your hands. You turned around in the bed, pulling the covers a little higher a closing you eyes again, fully prepared to go back to sleep.

Suddenly, you sat up in a fright, looking around the room and taking in you surroundings. You never got home lat night.

You don’t remember anything past the points of being dizzy.

You threw the covers away, standing up from the bed, ignoring the slight dizziness as you walked over to the window. As soon as you pulled the curtains open, all you could see was snow. What the actual fuck. It never snowed where you were from.

You ran towards the door, surprised when it opened immediately.

You looked out into the hallway, making sure it was clear before you made your way downstairs. You could hear chatter coming from what you assumed was the living room, and so you tried to go around it, heading towards the front door, or atleast, what looked like the front door.

You almost thought you weren’t spotted, until you heard a voice coming from the living room.

“If you’re going outside, don’t forget your boots and jacket. Winters are very cold around here.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, frozen in place as the voice spoke so casual. If she knew you were leaving, why didn’t she try to stop you? You hesitated a moment, unsure of what to do as you looked at the rack of shoes. Your shoes were there, together with a vast variety of boots.

“If you’re hungry, there is also some breakfast,” the voice spoke again, and you took a deep breath before deciding to follow it.

You walked into the living room, seeing all five people sitting on a few couches.

The red headed woman, Natasha, was sitting at the edge of the couch with the brown haired woman beside her. Natasha was scrolling on her phone while the other woman was reading a book.

After they noticed you arrived in the living room, the woman put her book away.

“Where am I?” you asked quietly, glancing over at Yelena who was watching something on the tv. You couldn’t understand the language, and you figured it must’ve been something slavic.

“You’re home,” the woman smiled softly, getting up from the couch and reaching for your hand.

“We figured we’d let you sleep in, so I put some breakfast in the fridge for you,” she explained as she led you towards the kitchen, letting go of your hand and opening the fridge, pulling out a plate of waffles.

You went to sit down at the barstool, leaning on the kitchen island, debating on what to say next.

“Who are you…?” you asked hesitantly, afraid to upset her.

“My name is, Wanda, but you may call me mom, and Natasha is mama,” Wanda stated simply, squirting some whipped cream on the waffles before topping them off with some fresh fruit.

“... What…?”

“I understand that it may be a bit confusing, but I promise you you will be happy here. We will make sure you will never have to worry about anything another day in your life,” Wanda explained, smiling as she put the plate of food in front of you.

“What about my parents?” you asked, and Wanda just smiled.

“You don’t have to worry about them hurting you ever again, I promise.”

You nodded slightly, staring at the plate of waffles.

“So you kidnapped me?”

Wanda chuckled a bit, sitting down across from you and pouting you a glass of your favourite juice. “I guess you could call it that, although that is not our intention. We love you, and we’ll show that to you,” she explained, putting the glass of juice down in front of you.

You hesitated before you felt your belly rumble in hunger, staring at the plate of waffles for only a second longer before you dug in, enjoying the amazing tasty treat.

“Why me?” you asked after taking a breath, taking a sip from your juice and staring at Wanda.

“You are special. You might not understand it, but you are special, and we love you. You are perfect,” Wanda explained, smiling as Natasha joined you in the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about it too much, malysh. You will love it here, and you will have everything you could dream off,” she said, giving you a kiss on your forehead. She reached over to the cabinet, grabbing a glass and filling it with some juice as well.

“If you want, I can take you outside later, or you could explore the house a little if that’s what you prefer,” Natasha suggested, and you nodded.

“Okay,” you simply said, taking another bite of your waffles.

You were confused beyond comprehension, yet for some reason, you felt safe. You knew you were safe, and for the first time in your life, you felt content.

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @n0txn3vee @lorsstar1st

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esmerxyaugusta · 2 months

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y/n: do you ever wonder where birds go at night or where they live?

nat: no.... but they live in trees... i think..

y/n: well guess what! i never think abt birds and when i do.

y/n: i feel like birds just un-spawn at night and respawn in the morning and annoy us to our deaths...

nat: ......

i was thinking abt this in the car before...

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unholyhelbig · 3 months

Note

request: oversight au, nat and reader run into reader’s ex or ronnie’s father who was abusive to them… how will mob nat react?

Title: Old Flames [An Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: When reader has an unexpected run-in with an old flame and things go less than well, Natasha takes things into her own hands.

Warnings(PLEASE READ): Talks of past domestic abuse, talks of abortion, buried alive references, broken glass, blood (always), Heights, threatening statements, non-consensual kiss, horrible grammar (aways).

[a/n: Okay, I had way too much fun with this. While I loved writing the main story, it's also super great to branch out into some more dynamics with Mob Boss Nat, because I haven't made her mean enough yet.]

Check out the full Oversight universe

The apartment building on the corner of twelfth and Hawke was a large midcentury brick building that structure that stretched to the sky. A metal fire escape latticed up the side and stretched clotheslines dripping with shirts and pants connected it to the adjacent building that had long since been used for storage.

Up until this point, you had avoided this building. Luckily, the tenants were quite timely with their rent and left little need for an enforcer to knock door to door. But it was right after the holidays and things were tough. That much, you understood. But it didn’t’ change the fact that three units were more than two months behind on their rent.

Them, you could appeal to with hot chocolate and some gentle urging. But according to Clint, there was a particularly nasty group of people living on the top floor that had gotten multiple noise complaints thrown their way.

The address hadn’t seemed familiar until you stood at the entrance and got a good look at the golden door that contrasted the rest of the structure. You’d written the code to the door on your palm, and you were having trouble differentiating the last number. It was a zero, or it was an eight.

“Gross, you’re sweaty.” Kate had pulled your hand a small distance from her scrutinizing stare, trying to read the smeared purple markings. “I knew we should have used the napkin.”

The woman dropped your hand and stepped up to the small box on the side of the entryway. She hit every button known to man until the fragile voice cracked through the speaker. “Yeah, uh-huh, pizza. I have pizza. Pepperoni-“Her ramblings were cut off by the loud buzz in.

You were treated to an innocent smile as she wrenched open the door and allowed you to follow her in. She was innovative, annoyingly so. Most of the time it worked in your favor but sometimes you found her testing your temper just to prove a point. Thankfully, she hadn’t noticed your hesitation.

It was coming back to you now; the large entryway that was lined with lock and key mail slots and a bolstered wooden staircase that was scarcely used compared to the elevator. Natasha kept good care of the place, had repainted and made sure every single lightbulb was humming in synch.

Some would say that she improved the neighborhood, block by block. But there were still those who liked the way things used to be; living paycheck to paycheck with an angry and withering stare being sent your way with each collection call.

“I’ve got Miss Henderson.”

“Oh, come on.” You protested “She sounds so cool.”

Miss Henderson was an older woman who lived on the fifth floor. Most of the time, her rent was late because it had simply slipped her mind. One look at Kate and she’d write a check before offering some of the sweetest cookies you’d ever tasted, often sending her back with a plateful.

From what you had heard, she used to travel with a circus as an acrobatic performer. Her act was death-defying; a performance that relied on her partners quick bladework. The Swordsman and his Enchantress. There were illustrations of their travels hung up around her unit- ones that you would kill to see.

“Too bad, next time.” Kate mock pouted at you before clapping you on the back. “Don’t make too much of a mess up on the top floor, alright? I don’t want to scrub carpets today.”

She took the stairs two at a time and left you alone in the lobby. A cool blast of wind hit your back as a tenant walked in with their dalmatian, pink tongue lolling to the side as his owner checked the mail, barely sparing you a glance.

The type of New York residents that occupied this space had changed greatly. The last time you’d been here was a walk of shame that left your feet raw and bleeding. You’d rushed from the apartment with so much fever that you never returned for your shoes, or your dignity, for that matter.

This time, you had shoes on, ones that you had scrubbed free of blood until they looked presentable. They were leaden on the stairs up to the top floor. Once you reached the fifth, you could hear Kate’s distinctive laugh behind the oak door. At least she was close.

The top floor was nearly silent. You could hear a television, a hockey game that you’d been listening to sparingly on the way over here. It sounded like Toronto was pulling through. The sound of a beer cracking pulled you away from the muffled announcers words.

A radio was resting in an upper window. You and Kate had heard it from the street below, a French Pop station that you could barely make out the words of. French was never your strong suite, one language requirement in high school was enough for you.

Silently, you prayed, that it was a coincidence. That the radio didn’t’ belong to the very men that you were meant to speak to. They were flighty, you told yourself. They weren’t ones to stay and if they chose to stick around after all these years- well, you’d be impressed.

You knocked twice on the center door, the deep forest-green paint threatening to chip under the elements. The music stopped abruptly, and while you could hear that someone was whispering quietly in French, you couldn’t make out the words.

The man that opened the door was too familiar for your liking; his pale waxy skin, his deep brown eyes that were so dark they were almost black, the tattoos that were smattered in different designs against his throat, down his collarbone. Pockmarked on his arms. His hair was longer than you remembered, greasier and tied up in a bun.

He took you in for a singular moment, shock reflecting in his stare, but before he moved to shut the door. You stopped the action with one strong hand, putting your boot between the frame and the wood for extra measure. “Don’t be like that, Kazi.”

“All these years, and now you’re coming back for child support?”

He raked his eyes up and down your body in a way that made you feel violated. You held your stance. He seemed impressed by the bout of strength.

You tsked “if I wanted child support, I would have gone after it by now. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

He scratched under the sleeve of his tank-top, considering you the same way you considered him. Eventually, he seemed to figure he had nothing to lose pulling the door back and letting you enter the apartment. Waves of memory washed over you.

Kazi still had the same futon covered in the same ratty blanket. There was a kitchen table that was stacked with different folders that he would never, in a million years, let you view. A blue funnel was drying on the dishrack, and countless liquor bottles that had been emptied and cleaned were lined up, ready to be filled with the slightest bit of homebrewed alcohol.

He was still running the same scam after all of these years. You remembered liking the danger about him, the way his stubble felt against you when you straddled him. He’d been so alluring to a good girl like you. He would street race at night with another guy you’d met a handful of times, Robbie Reyes.

God, you had been so naive back then. He was drawn in by your innocence and you were entrapped by his experience. If only you knew where you’d end up in seven years; with Kazi’s biological daughter being raised by the most powerful woman in the city.

The moment you told him you were pregnant, he told you bluntly to get rid of it. That same night, he’d thrown an empty liquor bottle at you, just barely missing your head. You’d refused outright and accepted his anger in turn. Glass shards cut into the soles of your feet, and stained the snow all the way back to your dorm room.

The way he stared at you now infuriated you. “What do you want, then?”

“You’re two months late on rent.”

“I figured you’d keep tabs. Most women do. But my rent? That’s a new one.”

You picked up a small paperweight that you remember being fond of when you returned to this apartment after a first date where Kazi was a perfect gentleman. He’d bought dinner, and walked you back to his place. The glass object was tinted yellow, a small mosquito suspended in the center. He must have gotten it in a museum gift shop.

“Truthfully, I’m shocked you still live here.” You tested the weight of the object. “Most landlords aren’t very lenient about tardiness.”

“Yeah, well. She’s not very attentive. What can I say?”

Oh, but Natasha was quite attentive in more than one aspect, at that. You couldn’t’ help the smile that spread against your lips. Kazi was growing agitated with your presence, always quick to temper.

With all the strength you could muster, you threw the paperweight at the wall directly behind him. In its innate cheapness, it shattered into a million pieces, littering the carpet and slicing little bites into his skin. Kazi flinched and covered his face with his arms.

“Fuck! Y/n, what the hell!” He screamed.

“You have two weeks to backdate the rent, Kazi. Another week to get us this month’s amount. That sounds reasonable to me. Attentive, even.”

He reached into the back of his sweatpants and pulled out a silver Kimber, pumping the top chamber and aiming it at you with a shaky hand. He was too lax with his hold. A pinprick of crimson was dripping from a cut on his cheek.

“Come on, Kazi. It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure you can push some half-rate liquor. Sell a few of your gold fillings, and come up with the money my employer is required.”

“Employer? You work for that… monster?”

“Now, there’s a big word.” You closed the distance between the two of you, not giving him a moment to react before you wrenched the gun from his hand and threw it onto that ratty old blanket that adorned the futon he’d found on the side of the road. “So much horrible implication behind it too. You shouldn’t name call.”

Your boots crunched against the shattered glass. Kazi was barefoot, he flinched as flesh was dug into by uneven shards. You could smell the rancid coffee on his breath. He had a mole just on small of his nose.

“What happened to you?” he whispered, “Where’s that girl that stormed out of my apartment because she didn’t get her way?”

“A lot can change in seven years, Kaz.” You glanced around his apartment. “Well, most people change. Some people don’t go anywhere in life.”

Kazi pressed forward, his dry lips suddenly against yours. You froze in an instant, appalled by the acrid taste of cigarettes and stale morning coffee that he had no-doubt heated up in the microwave and drank black. The kiss was strong, rushed and painful in the way that his teeth knocked against yours.

It took less than a second for you to push him away. His head hit the cabinet behind it, rattling the glasses inside. Your hand was splayed out on his chest, nails digging into the stained tank-top he wore. He grinned wolfishly at you. Your teeth had dug so hard into his lip that it drew blood.

“I like this rough version of you, sweetheart. It’s hot.”

You reeled back and slapped him across the face with as much force as you could muster in your close proximity. The radio in the window seemed to flicker out of power at that moment, or maybe they had just run out of shitty pop music to play. Either way, the two of you were engulfed in silence.

“Shit, baby, hit me again!”

He had no idea how much you wanted to abide by that, though, you were quite positive that it would do nothing but spur on his arousal. This wasn’t going to work. If he kept pushing the way he was, you were afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from pulling your own weapon.

It suddenly became too much, standing in the middle of this time-capsule of an apartment. The memories were too strong. When the two of you were together, everything you did was for his benefit. And while this had been fun at first, testing him like this, it was too much.

You grabbed the collar of his sweat-soiled shirt, wrapping it around your fingers with enough force to tear the fabric away. “Two weeks, you fucking asshole. If you don’t have the money by then, I’m sure the city will have a fun time scrubbing your brain matter from the sidewalk.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He sneered.

You pressed your booted foot down on the top of his, listening as the glass dug deeper into the soft skin. This time, he did cry out in pain, the grinding of pieces close to bone making his eyes water. You placed your hand over his mouth, muffling his protest. “I will make your miserable existence a living hell, with or without the money, for what you did to me. Do you understand?”

“You’re so full of shit-“ you pressed your full weight down and you squirmed under your hold. “Yes! Yes, I get it. Fuck!”

You pulled yourself away from Kazi entirely, straightening his shirt. He was slumped against the counter, staring at you with pure rage in his eyes. He shifted his full weight to his other foot, grimacing at the edged stain on the wooden floor.

“You should really clean that up.” You gritted, mouth still tasting of stale smoke. “Glass can be dangerous, Kazimirez.”

By the time you got to the car the only thing on your mind was taking the hottestshower possible. You’d pawed through Kate’s glovebox rather frantically and counted it a small blessing that that there was a single unwrapped piece of gum at the very bottom.

She cringed as you popped it in your mouth and let the minty dusty taste coat your tongue. If you could, without raising suspicion, you would have dumped solvent on it, just to take the taste of Kazi out of your mouth.

“I don’t know how long that’s been in there.” Kate said, watching you warily as you picked up her water bottle and downed half of that too. It seemed to take the rest of the rancid flavor away.

“I don’t care”

“You should care, I bought this car used.” She frowned, tapping her fingers against the wheel. “Okay, I didn’t’ buy it. I bought the license plates though, that’s my civic duty.”

Her words were enough for you to roll your window down and toss the gum from it. Despite your profession, you weren’t a very good liar. Not when it came to Natasha. She’d ask you about your day like usual and you’d crumble under her seemingly innocent gaze.

Nothing Natasha did was innocent.

“What happened up there?” Kate asked.

The two of you were well out of the city by now, and still had about a half-hour until you got to the mansion. The family liked their privacy, and after a year of living there permanently, so did you.

When you didn’t answer right away, she kept going. “Because I got cookies. Nearly choked on one when Miss Henderson insisted on a private show. It’s seriously a wonder that a woman her age can still bend like that.”

“Katie,” You warned, “Gross.”

“Impressive actually. She kept her clothes on, which I am eternally grateful for. It looks like you had a more eventful visit with the French dudes upstairs.” She scoffed, “Who the fuck is French anymore?”

You rolled your eyes and slumped further into your seat. Kazi was French. You used to crumble when he gave you the choppiest lines that he could remember. According to him, the language is harder to speak than it is to read and write. You never questioned him, just like you didn’t question a lot of things.

“I have a… history with the man who rents 807.”

“A history, or a… history?”

“The first one. The second one. Shit- I don’t know, both! He’s Ronnie’s dad.”

Kate slammed on the brakes with enough force for a layer of rubber to be peeled from the tires of her mostly stolen care. The seatbelt cut into your neck and you figured yourself lucky that you’d taken a back road that was rarely used, god forbid she cause an accident.

“Dude!” You shouted as she put the car into park.

Kate twisted her entire body in the seat, placing her hand on the back of your seat. The motor was sputtering wildly, trying to compensate for her abrupt stop. Something had to be damaged, you thought, with her force on the pedal.

“Don’t dude me. Are you really that dense? If you haven’t noticed, Natasha is possessive over her things. And you? Well, you’re one of her favorite things. She’s not going to take this well in the slightest.”

“Kate, I think I know how to handle my girlfriend.”

“No, you know how to handle Natasha, the sweet, loving woman who would die for you and your child. Admirable, really. But you don’t know how to handle Miss Romanoff, mob boss extraordinaire.”

But you had seen Natasha in action before, countless times. She’d always kept this calm coolness about her that you were in awe of. Maybe Kate was right. You’d only seen a fraction of her jealous side at the first party you had ever attended in the house. That night she ripped the dress she’d picked out specifically for you to shreds.

“I was dating a man named Eli when I was first taken in by the Romanoff’s, He turned out to be… not so favorable despite my constant reassurances. Natasha just knows. She had him dig a grave right off I-25 and then she made him lay in it.”

Your jaw threatened to drop at the simple fact. Kate removed her hand from the back of the seat and eased off the brake before she slowly got the two of you back up to an acceptable speed.

“All Eli did was cheat on me one night in a club. It wasn’t great, but I wasn’t sure if it warranted that kind of reaction. I never knew if she was proving a point to me, or to Eli. Either way, the smallest offense against any of us is met with archaic conviction.”

You didn’t respond to Kate, instead you stared at the trees that were whizzing by in a lush green wall of color. You’d decided that she was right- any type of reaction Natasha was going to have to Kazi would be severe.

“You’ll be fine.” Kate tapped her fingers nervously on the wheel, trying to backtrack her words. “As long as he didn’t’ touch you.”

It didn’t seem to matter how ferociously you scrubbed your skin with the honey scented soap you shared with Natasha, you swore you still smelled like smoke. It clung to your clothes, and lingered in the air after you’d shoved them to the bottom of the clothes basket.

The water was blazingly hot, filling the bathroom with a thick mist that made it slow to breathe. Natasha had chosen a dark blue tile that seemed to transport you into another world. Even without the scaring remembrance of Kazi’s lips against yours, his hands where you didn’t want them, you could stay here for hours.

Her hands were freezing cold and startling as they splayed against your naked stomach. You let out a small noise, going rigid before registering Natasha behind you. Her front was pressed against your back, and you’d know the curve of her body anywhere.

“Izvinite, moya lyubov', I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You turned in her arms and took in the state of her. She’d stripped down just as you had, small drops of water littering her skin like a constellation in the sky. She’d been in the sun today, a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose giving her away.

There was a bruise forming against the side of her jaw, one that you ran your waterlogged fingers over. Her eyes were an intoxicating shade of green, playing off the indigo tiles. You wanted to scold her for getting the bruise in the first place, but you were so entrapped by her simple presence, the way she fit so perfectly against you.

Natasha closed the distance between you both, pressing her lips against yours in a hurried kiss. You moaned into the embrace, allowing her tongue to find purchase in your mouth. God- you had missed her in the short few hours you’d been apart.

“Did you take up smoking?” she asked, barely pulling away, the words were spoken flushed to your lips. “It’s a terrible habit, darling.”

The glovebox gum hadn’t done its job, and apparently the swish of mouthwash and subsequent teeth brushing hadn’t done anything either. Of course, Natasha noticed. Of course. You weren’t going to try to hide it, though the thought did occur to you to save some heartache. But you were hoping you could placate her in a less slippery spot of the house when you were less naked and incredibly turned on by her presence.

A groan of a different cadence than she was used to escaped you as you dropped your head to her shoulder and clenched your eyes shut. “No, I didn’t take up smoking.”

“You taste like you have,” She gently led your eyes to hers. It was tender compared to the first time she had done so. “Licking ash trays again?”

“Gross, no.”

Natasha valued honesty above all. That much had been clear from the moment you met her. She’d nearly taken your head off in the gym when you repeated your one-night-stand with the enemy. The devil incarnate who happened to only be decent in bed. You remembered her hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough for you to give her the answers she craved.

“What is it, pet? You can tell me.”

“Do you… I’ve been with men before.”

She let out a small chuckle that reverberated off the deep tile. “Yes, I know. I didn’t want to make assumptions, of course, but Ronnie does have a father.”

The way you stared at her in the silence that followed the statement made the smile on her face falter until it dropped entirely. She must have seen something behind your eyes, something that weighed the situation down more than she was intending on a typical Wednesday night.

“I’d completely blacked it out and didn’t realize it until I stepped foot into the lobby, but he still lives in the same apartment on the top floor. He thought I was after child support, or something but things sort of… escalated.”

You felt like a child, spilling your secrets about a vase you had broken. This time it was a cheap paperweight with a bug in the center that you frankly felt bad for. The words came out like emotional vomit, granted, Natasha had become used to your rapid admissions.

Her grip tightened against your chin, “Escalated how?”

“He kissed me, and I hit him hard enough to break his jaw.”

That same silence enveloped you again. The scalding water had lost its effect, numb and beating against your back. The two of you were still impossibly close and there wasn’t much escape for you in a shower this size. The glass door having fogged up and only giving you a stunted view of the large bathroom.

Natasha had an immeasurable rage behind her stare, her lidded expression ran as dark as old blood. It chilled you to your core. She reached beside you and shut off the constant flow of water. You’d been in here for about an hour now and the cold air that touched your skin felt like an assault of needles. You instinctively wrapped your arms around your center to preserve warmth.

“He laid his hands on you.”

“Yeah, Nat, he did.”

“He touched you.”

“I gave him hell for it, but it didn’t seem like it was enough.”

“Without permission.”

“He’ll never do it again.”

Whatever split-second decision she made; it was done without the usual calculation behind her eyes. She threw the door to the shower open and forcefully shoved a towel into your arms. While you revered in the warmth, you watched as she sauntered in her usual way out of the bathroom and into your shared bedroom. She was dripping wet.

“Natty!” You stumbled over the partition and nearly slid on the bathroom floor. It was much colder outside of your cocoon of warmth and subsequent mist. She thankfully hadn’t left the room and was pawing through her side of the dresser. You nearly lost your footing once you reached hardwood. “Fuck,”

She seemed to find what she was looking for, a plain black tank top that hugged her sides and looked entirely uncomfortable to wiggle into while damp. You watched with baited breath in a sloping towel as she adorned herself with underwear and pants, before turning towards you.

“Get dressed.” She ordered in a dangerous tone.

Shit. She was going to make you dig your own grave. You’d just showered all of the grime from Kazi’s apartment off and in a matter of minutes you would have dirt up to your knees. Natasha may have let Eli live after his blunder, but maybe she’d cover you completely and let you suffocate in your own efforts.

Numbly, you put on a pair of sweatpants and the closest shirt you had. There was no need to get dressed for your own funeral, you supposed. The worms would chew through whatever you wore regardless.

Clint was stretched out on the chase in the foyer, a pair of thick-lensed glasses balancing on the tip of his nose. Regardless, he still squinted at the book in his hands. You wondered why he wasn’t in the living room, but caught a glimpse of a particularly intense game of twister between Ronnie, Yelena, and Kate.

Darcy held onto the board, flicking the small plastic needle and calling out the colors. When Kate clocked the anger in Natasha’s eyes, she dropped to her back, taking down Yelena and Ronnie with her.

She gave you a pleading look, but you were already too far gone to return anything other than a flushed expression. You followed obediently after Natasha. She opened the front door and watched you with a calculated expression before slamming the front door hard enough to shake the glass fronting.

“Get in the car.”

“Do you want me to grab a shovel?”

“What?”

She contemplated this for a minute, growling softly. The near silence was terrifying. Her arms crossed over her chest was terrifying. Your mouth with incredibly dry, and you wished that you were back under the constant stream of water.

“No. I don’t think we’ll need that. Get in the car.”

Numbly, you did as you were told, placing your hands in your lap. This was quite possibly the last time you would be sitting in any car, much less, next to Natasha. She reached across you and pulled your seatbelt into place, tugging on the upper portion until she was sure you weren’t going anywhere.

The tires picked up traction on the gravel and the drive that usually took an hour seemed to whiz by. Natasha was quiet, the route to the city more than familiar by now. She run her hands against the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. You could hear her breathing deeply, trying to ease her nerves. You didn’t dare say a word.

For a moment, you figured that she’d abandoned the idea of burying you alive and switched her ideals to something much more sinister and public. She pulled her car up to the front of the very building you had left a few hours ago, the sun just barely setting behind the skyline. You blinked at her, and then up at the very property that she owned.

“Come on.”

There was no room for discussion. The air here was clouded with the scent of smoke and the coolness of the cement structures around you. It was moments like these where you much preferred the country.

Of course, Natasha knew the code, she had recited it to you earlier as you and Kate ate lunch by the docks, stretched out on the hood of her car. It was wrong then and your nerves were too elevated to pay attention now. She got in without the theatrics.

There seemed to be more activity as the day for working folks began to wind down. Two people halted their conversation by the mail-slots, nodding solemnly at the woman. On the third floor, you caught a glimpse of a woman struggling to push her keys into the lock, juggling her gym bag. The sixth floor held a small boy who darted from one apartment to another, edging across the hall.

She kept climbing until that same irritating French pop filled your ears. He must keep it on at all hours of the day, just to drown out his own miserable thoughts. “What apartment?”

You lifted your chin slightly, hands shoved in the pockets of your sweatpants to ward off the biting chill. “807.”

“Spasibo, lyubimyy.”

Natasha’s booted foot connected with the center of the very door you had politely knocked on earlier in the day. You flinched, covering your face with a guarded arm. The wood of the doorframe seemed to splinter, slivers reigning across both sides of the entrance.

“What the fuck!”

Kazi was hunched over the kitchen table, the funnel that had been drying by the sink was positioned perfectly in the mouth of a soaked and peeled liquor bottle. He had a stack of his own labels ready to place evenly on the finished product. Both of his feet were haphazardly wrapped with gauze, small sprouts of blood worming through the soft material.

He’d taken care to clean up the glass, but with the way Natasha headed straight towards him, that didn’t matter much. More of it fell to the floor and shattered upon impact. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and started walking him backwards across the living room. Kazi seemed too stunned to speak, his words caught in his throat.

“I-I-I didn’t mean it! Please!”

“When you speak to me, you’ll do it clearly.” She gritted, shoving him towards the window. Somewhere in the scuffle, the radio had fallen from its perch on the cracked windowsill, crashing to the alleyway below with one last fizzled cry. “You had no trouble saying whatever you wanted earlier, did you?”

“I’m sorry! Fuck! I told that bitch I would have the rent!”

“Yeah? Was that before or after you shoved your tongue down her throat?”

Natasha bent Kazi’s torso fully over the screenless window. He grasped frantically at her hands, clawing at them as the balanced him over the long drop to the pavement below. His bare feet kicked, trying to throw her off her equilibrium, but he was much too weak for any type of damage.

“You walked out on them.”

“What? Oh, my god, what?! I told her to get rid of it- I didn’t walk out on anyone! You’re batshit lady!”

To you, it didn’t’ seem very wise to throw insults at the woman holding you above an eight-story drop, but Kazi never was known for his intelligence. His bravado, maybe, but never anything more. He looked so small compared to Natasha’s anger.

“She didn’t get rid of it, Kazi. She kept the kid that you couldn’t have bothered to give another thought to. She made a life for both of them. She fucking loves that kid enough to fill the absence you left.” Natasha let her hand slip, letting him waver in his height for a moment before pulling him back up. He was crying, sobbing for his life. “And you have the nerve, to touch her, to break her and then come rushing back when she was strong enough to pick up the pieces?”

“I wasn’t ready,” he moaned out “I couldn’t be a dad.”

“It seems like there are a lot of things you can’t do, doesn’t it? You’re a pathetic excuse for a man. A pathetic excuse for a human being and once we leave here- I never want to see your face in my city again. Am I clear?”

Kazi let out another course of intelligible, wet, words. His back was nearly breaking under the force of Natasha’s hold, her knee directly up against his crotch, pushing down with all the strength she could muster.

“Y/n, I think this is a teaching moment, don’t you?”

The softness of her words as she addressed you caught you off guard. There was no malice. In fact, she beckoned to you as if she was calling you into the living room to join her under the blankets for a movie. Your heart raced fast enough for your chest to ache as you closed the distance between you both.

“See, the trick is making them think that you’re going to let them go.”

She said this to you as if Kazi wasn’t a slobbering mess under her touch. He’d carved little half-moon marks against the tops of her hand, some of them starting to leak blood with the sheer force of his struggle.

“You have to get creative with the fear aspect. If they think they’re going to die, it tends to work in our favor. Doesn’t it, Kazi?”

“Please,” He whimpered, “I’ll do whatever you want. I’m sorry, y/n, I’m sorry.”

Natasha did the seemingly impossible, she pushed him further out the window, his calves struggling for purchase against the drywall. “Oh, now that simply won’t do. You must keep her name out of your mouth.”

“In situations like these, darling, it’s best to keep full control. If he was anything other than wretched, then maybe you’d have to worry about him fighting back. You’ll get some people like that, but that trick is having leverage, literal and physical in cases like this.”

“I see,” You let the words escape you in a single breath “and how long do we play this game?”

“Until they know it’s not one.”

It took little effort for Natasha to push Kazi the rest of the way out the window. In spite of his clinging grip, the force of gravity was enough to do the work for her. His cry stunted in his throat and it only took a few seconds for a dull thud to echo through the alleyway, followed by the unmistakable sound of a car alarm going off.

With a small gasp, you leaned over the window yourself, staring down at the white Toyota that now had a sizeable dent in the top, the windshield spiderwebbing. Kazi let out a groan that you could hear from up here, blinking up at the sky with malice and shock in his eyes.

“Nat,” You breathed.

“Please, eight stories is survivable. Some people need to be taught a lesson.” She shrugged, pulling you back into the apartment by the sleeve of your shirt. “I’ll pay for the car repairs, if that makes you feel better, detka.”

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“Of course I did.” She reached forward and cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look at her. It was impossible to ignore the gesture, the words that she had said with so much blind passion. Tears threatened to overtake your waterline. “moya lyubov', he put his hands on you without permission and before that… before that he hurt you in ways unimaginable. I meant every word I said.”

You could hear sirens in the distance, a hazard of living in the city. They could be for Kazi, you supposed, something to take care of the surely broken ribs and the bruised ego. But, they could be for something more important.

You pushed forward and kissed Natasha delicately. You wanted to be impossibly close to her. Most gestures you had received in the past had come in the form of flowers, maybe the occasional box of chocolate from the drug store. Once again- Natasha had proved something to you.

Her chuckle vibrated into the kiss, “Mm, we should probably leave.”

You couldn’t agree more. You wanted to get out of this stupid apartment that was teeming with memories of your time with Kazi. The way he claimed his love for you, and forced you to make a horrible decision all in one exhale.

As the two of you walked down the long and winding steps, Natasha asked, “What was with the shovel thing?”

You laughed, suddenly feeling foolish for fearing Natasha in the first place. Her silence caused waves, and somehow, that was worse than if she’d threatened you outright, something that she never did with much heat.

“Kate, she told me about her ex-boyfriend, Eli, I think she said his name was.”

“Ah, Eli.” She frowned, “He cheated on her, and I only made him dig for an hour.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, as long as you never make me dig my own grave.”

“I would never do that. There is no punishment in things you can’t control.” Natasha gave your hand a squeeze, her solemn words punctuated with a slowly creeping smile. “Besides, detka, that’s simply not my style. It was much too messy.”

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#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanov #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha ROmanoff x you #Natasha Romanov x y/n #Natasha Romanov x you #Natasha Romanov x reader #Mafia au #Yelena Belova #Kate Bishop #Clint Barton #Reader insert #request

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 1 year

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ladies first

clint barton x natasha romanoff x f!reader prompt: wait theme: smut (tags beneath the cut)

“Go slowly, kroshka,” Natasha murmured with a smile, her hand stroking gently through your hair. There was a hint of amusement in her dulcet voice, and you shivered as her fingertips tickled the back of your neck. “Always so eager to please. You don’t want to end the fun already, do you?”

You hummed your response, unable to reply properly with your mouth full. Clint groaned as you did, the vibrations of your mouth teasing his cock. You gagged slightly as his hips upward, the head of him hitting the back of your throat.

“Much better,” Natasha praised, her fingertips tip-toeing their way along your back. They lingered along the curve of your spine before dipping lower, and you whimpered as she slipped your underwear down your thighs. The gentle pressure of her hand between your thighs spread them wider, and you felt a thrill curl in your belly.

Your position on your hands and knees over Clint’s legs left you feeling prone, exposed. But the way he groaned as you slid your tongue along the length of him and dug your fingers into his thigh… and the way Natasha hummed in appreciation as she studied you… it didn’t seem to matter.

“God…” Clint muttered, his hands balling in the sheets beneath him. His fingers flexed, the muscles in his arms tightening. You knew he wanted so badly to bury his hands in your hair, but Natasha had given him strict instructions: He was not to touch. “Fuck, sugar, I’m—”

“Not yet, Barton,” Natasha tsked, her fingertips ghosting up the inside of your thigh. “Wait.”

Clint chuckled brokenly, shaking his head against the pillow. “For the love of fuck, why?”

Natasha snickered, her fingers continuing their glacial pace up over your sensitive flesh.

“You don’t cum…” Natasha said, a playful edge to her voice. You moaned, mouth full and your eyes rolling back, as she finally slid her fingers against your cunt. “…Until she does.”

Clint cursed again, his hands tightening further on the sheets. His knuckles whitened, and the fitted sheet popped off the corner of the bed. “God, you’re mean to me.”

You could picture Natasha’s answering half-smile, and your breath caught as Natasha pressed two fingers into you, her other hand teasing over your clit. You pulled back, the head of Clint’s cock against your bottom lip as you gasped for breath.

“Uh, uh, kroshka.” she reprimanded, stilling her hands. You whimpered, moving your hips back against her touch, and she rewarded the action with a sharp smack against your backside. “Don’t go easy on him.”

You shared a brief look with Clint – one you’d shared a hundred times before when Natasha took charge like this – one of shared excitement and play-exasperation. He winked at you before you took him back into your mouth and his head fell back onto the pillow.

“Good girl.” Nat cooed, her fingers returning to their previous rhythm.

You rode her fingers eagerly, every moan and breathy curse Clint gave you making your pulse quicken and your insides tighten. You choked around Clint’s cock as you came minutes later, pitching forward as your thighs shook with the sensation.

“Now, Clint.”

“Oh, thank God.” He bunched a hand in your hair and thrust into your mouth, groaning as his orgasm overcame him. You swallowed reflexively, smiling around him as you felt Natasha press a kiss to the small of your back. “Fuck…”

“So pretty, the two of you.” Natasha told you as you climbed up Clint’s body and pressed your lips to his. He banded his arms around your waist, one hand closing around hers as she smoothed her hand over your spine. “Just so pretty…”

tags: @startrekkingaroundasgard @lol-you-thought @ruderavenclaw @wittyforachange @notafraid-bitch-igot9lives @akumune @enna-core @xxboesefrauxx @hearmyharmony @katsies @lipstickandtanqueray @youralphawolf72 @maenji @rhymesmenagerie @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @gwianasky

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ryloriee678999 · 2 years

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You Have Guilt For Your Mistakes (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Summary: Reader can’t deal with trauma anymore after a mission. (1800 words)

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, arguing, angst, PTSD, mentions of medication, implied suicide, unhappy ending.

A/N: Inspo from Drunk by Dayseeker. All my friends said it was too sad to post but I enjoyed writing it a lot.

You felt yourself break after the mission. People died due to your mistakes, mistakes that could have easily been avoided if you were more careful. It was becoming too much to think about, and your girlfriend knew that. She was there for you, she saw what it did to you but what she didn't see was how deep it went.

On Friday, after work, you decided to drink just to take the edge off. Then the same thing happened on Saturday, and then Sunday and quickly it became every day. On days you didn't have work you’d start right when you woke up, and on days you had work it would be right after. You were thankful Natasha was out of the country while this all happened. You missed her when she went on missions, but you dreaded her coming back because you knew you’d have to stop.

It was working at first, you forgot all about the dead bodies, destruction, and what you did. Alcohol took everything off your mind, and it was truly helping better than any therapy could. But one day you saw the bodies not only in your mind but on your bedroom floor. It was psychosis, you knew it wasn't real, but it was enough to throw you into a spiral.

You needed more because nothing was enough anymore. You had no joy in working and the only time you felt okay was when you poured yourself more than a few glasses after work. So, the most reasonable solution for this was to drink at work. Perhaps you weren't sober when you came up with it, but the next day you still carried out the plan.

Most of the time you spent at work was slouched in your office chair staring at the things you should be completing. After your last mission, you were taken off due to carelessness and the emotional state you were in after. Paperwork all day was as boring as it sounds.

You persisted like this until one day things became present to others. You slipped up and Wanda found you. You actually slipped up, as in you were stumbling through the hallways and about to fall when Wanda caught you.

“Hey,” you greeted in surprise. Your hands still on her shoulders and your entire weight on her. Wanda frowned when you spoke, but you didn't know why.

Her eyebrows furrow, “Have you been drinking?” She questioned. Right away you cover your mouth with one of your hands in an attempt to smell your breath. “No,” you say, muffled through your hand.

The witch stared at you for a moment, scanning your body to see if anything was wrong. You didn't look like how you usually did. Her worried expression made you start laughing loudly and a huge grin appeared on your face. “Gosh Wanda, you should see your face right now, you look so concerned.”

Some of your words came out slurred and that was enough evidence for Wanda to grab onto your sleeve to start dragging you. “I’m taking you to your room,” she said sternly. You looked at her face as you two walked, she looked angry. She was angry at you for the first time ever and it made all the terrible feelings come back.

She pushed you forward, not hard enough for you to fall, but enough to get your legs moving in the right direction. “Don't tell Nat,” you beg when you are at the door, you slid down it, finding comfort on the dirty floor.

“I won't,” she tells you then unlocks your door.

Almost five minutes later, you settle in bed with a glass of water courtesy of Wanda. You drift off to sleep as she sits in your living room with her phone settled to her ear.

When you woke up, Wanda was gone and you were free to do whatever. You mostly forgot about what happened but you knew there would be consequences after she saw you like that. The anxiety of what was going to happen filled your body and you wanted to feel better. So routinely you grabbed a bottle, any bottle you could find in your room and drank large gulps of it. The taste was absolutely disgusting, but it wasn't as bad when you first had it. You sat there and waited for it to hit you, and when it did, it hit you hard.

You were so out of it that you didn't even hear the sound of your door opening and the metal clang of keys falling on the counter beside your bed.

“Love?” you hear a voice call out. You turn around to see your girlfriend slowly approaching you.

You were too drunk to panic, all you could do was act as sober as you could. “Hey Natty, I didn't know you’d be home today.”

Okay, you weren't the best actor but the thing that gave it away was the empty glass bottle on the ground. Her eyes landed on it.

“Were you drinking?” She asks, still staring at the bottle and picking it up so she could read the label.

You look away from her, the lie rolled off your tongue so easily. “No,” you answered.

“Are you seriously drunk right now? I thought Wanda was kidding when she told me.”

“Wanda told you? That bitch,” you almost yell, emphasizing the word bitch. You would have gotten up and hunted Wanda down but Natasha restricted you the moment you tried standing up.

Natasha sighs seeing you like this and saying things you would never say sober. “This isn't like you.”

“Maybe it is, you don't know, you’ve been gone for so long.” Two weeks to be exact. This has been going on for two weeks.

“Is this about the mission? What’s making you like this, baby?”

You roll your eyes at the mention of what happened. She always had to bring it up, and you were getting fed up with it. “It’s not that, it's not the mission, this has nothing to do with it,” you lie.

“Then why are you drinking if not that? Is there something else?” She said, almost as if she was interrogating you.

“I coped with the mission, Natasha, I’m over it, I've been over it for a while now.”

Her arms crossed and the look on her face was as exhausted as you were. You almost felt bad that she had to come home to this, but in this state, you couldn't care. “Okay, then tell me how you coped with it, because if it isn't drinking then I don't know what else you could possibly be doing.”

“I dealt with it, okay? I cried every night, and you were there. You helped me through it, so I'm fine now.”

“Did you take your meds while I was gone? Did you sleep enough? Did someone do something?” She asks almost randomly. “If I have to keep guessing I will.”

“Stop with the fucking pill thing, Natasha! No, nothing will repair this,” you shouted.

So it was about the mission, Natasha thought. She knew she shouldn't have left, but you were so convincing. “I have loved and lost, I know how it feels to want to push it all away. But you can't expect to get better this way. And I know you’re hurting but you can't yell at me like this, and you definitely can't keep drinking.”

“Why not? I’m not hurting anyone.” You knew that was false, but maybe if you could hide it better it would be true.

Natasha felt tears start escaping from her eyes because it was hurting her, and it hurt even more to see that you couldn't realize that. You weren't yourself, you were in denial and pain. She grabbed your hand, holding it tightly as she sat on the bed next to you. “I'm going to lose you to alcohol poisoning, baby.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” you whisper. “I can't hurt anyone that way.”

“Don't say that..”

You finally looked her in the eye, seeing your girlfriend with tears streaming down her face made everything stop. For once, you found yourself not yelling. “Why not?” You responded, it was barely audible but Natasha understood.

“We all make mistakes, we just have to learn from them. You did more good than bad, so stop– please stop blaming yourself. “

You wanted to respond and accept her words but you couldn't. It felt like she was lying to you about all these things. It was almost impossible to stop blaming yourself, nothing Natasha could say would stop that. So you shrug in response and lay down, suddenly feeling exhausted, or maybe you were passing out, you couldn't really tell the difference.

You shut your eyes and the last thing you heard was Natasha saying that it was okay.

The next day, you woke up covered in cold sweats and your head pounding. You felt as if you moved even one inch, you might throw up. Beside you was Natasha, she was awake all night watching you in case something would happen in your sleep. She continued to be by your side from then on.

Natasha canceled all plans, all her missions, just to be with you. She made sure you were sober, making sure the only thing you drank was water. She eventually got you to stop completely and to cope better.

Everything was starting to feel good… until it didn't. The moment you got the chance to go on missions again, you decided to fix this once in for all. No more drinking, no more coping, and no more putting the burden on Natasha.

Natasha smiles as she helps you put your gear on. She attaches a belt around your waist and adds her own gun to the holster. It felt suffocating just wearing your uniform. No matter how many times you washed it the scent was still there. For a second you stood there, arms gripping the fabric at your shoulders looking at yourself in the mirror.

Your girlfriend noticed and she moved behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist. “Are you sure you want to do this?” She asked as she looked at you in the mirror.

You nod reassuringly, “I’m ready, really.”

Natasha still looks worried but you turn around to face her. “Don't worry, I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“Okay, but promise me you’ll be back by tomorrow.”

This was starting to hurt.

You loved the people around you so much that it was unbearable. It pained you to know you’d miss out on so many things. After this, there wouldn't be any more late movie nights, sleepy mornings with Natasha by your side, or parties that you secretly loved. Your whole future would be gone in an instant and their love wasn't enough to keep you here.

It was almost enough to change your mind, but before you could, you reminded yourself it was what you deserved. After failing to save people's lives, it would be only fair to do the same to yours.

You swallow harshly as it feels like something is stuck in your throat. “I promise.” You could barely respond, you hated how hard this was. You feel your eyes start stinging so you squeeze her into a hug to hide your expression.

“I love you,” you mumble into her hair. Natasha stood still as she thought if this was really a good idea. All seemed well, you were doing much better and itching to get back there. But there was this feeling she couldn't shake. “I love you too,” she responded and tightened the hug.

When you broke apart, she kissed your cheek and you promised her that it would be okay. She saw you off and you left. What Natasha missed was your tears when you turned around.

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a-spes · 3 months

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| PRETTY FACES, DARK SOULS - Chapter one (4,382 words).

| Summary - you rob the wrong person and she makes sure that you pay your debts, willingly or not.

| Tags & warnings - Minors DNI, Dark CEO!Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader, just fluff for the moment, slight angst (if you squint), mentions of sex.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| part one. part two.

Your eyes meet their reflection in the mirror, looking for the slightest detail that isn’t right but, if you were seeking for imperfections, you are unable to find any.

Everything was perfect, and even you were struggling to recognize your face, you would have probably fallen into your own trap and that thought satisfies you. It took you several hours locked up in that dingy room to achieve this result, but you have no regrets as you are eventually able to look at your disguise.

No one would have guessed that you were the one hiding behind that mask that changed every feature of your face.

No one knows you enough to be able to notice the smallest details in your attitude that were giving hints about your true identity. You were sure that no one would notice the way you are moving your head when being disturbed by something or your hand constantly running in the skin of your hands. There are a lot of small habits you tried to suppress, but it was in vain, every of your persona inevitably ended up having a part of you in them.

Despite the dust covering the mirror, you can admire every feature of who you are going to be tonight: Lydia Golvorezova. She looks like an angel and it’s not only because her hair is so blonde that it looks white or because of her porcelain skin and innocent eyes that makes her look like a doll, but mainly because she is stunning. There is something unreal in her beauty that gives the impression that she couldn’t possibly be human.

This name was never yours, but it fits perfectly the person you could see in the mirror right now. It was perfect to embody the innocence and naivety you were reading in her eyes, it was perfect to give the feeling of power and fragility at the same time.

The way you have done your makeup only adds to the effect. In appearance, it is something really simple, but the truth is that it took you hours to get that result as you wanted to look as perfect and young as possible.

It is not that you are old, only being an adult for a few years now, but you figured out that the younger you look, the easier things are. Most of the people you are going to meet tonight have a preference for girls that haven't been broken by life yet, for the ones that haven't harsh features accompanied by a cold gaze: they like what is easy to manipulate.

They are desperate to feel powerful and it’s becoming pitiful, even ridiculous.

When you entered the toilets of the gas station, hours ago, nobody paid attention to you because you were blending in perfectly with your surroundings. It is that you are not as interesting as Lydia Golvorezova, nor as rich. No one ever notices the young girl with stained clothes, they even avoid her gaze at all cost, scared she would ask for money — if only they knew that she is the same person than the one they can’t take their eyes off now.

If you’ve arrived discreetly, you can’t say the same thing when you leave the room. You could feel the gaze of the few customers that were here on your back, but the worst is probably the cashier’s one. You have to clear your throat as a reminder that you are waiting so that her gaze would stop wandering for a little too long where it shouldn’t be, even for a brief moment.

While she is scanning your articles with obvious embarrassment, you can’t help but smile. You love the way she avoids your gaze, the way her cheeks are flushed and how her voice is only a whisper when she tells you how much you owe. The poor thing probably fears that you would snap at her for such an offense, but honestly you were just enjoying the situation.

You love it when they fall that easily in the trap you set for them.

Tonight, to match your makeup, you decided to wear a black dress that you bought just for the event. Your back is bare and it reveals enough of your chest to catch the attention without being vulgar: it’s right at the frontier between what’s elegant and what’s indecent, and that’s why it’s the perfect choice.

You wish you could keep it, but even the money you’re stealing isn’t enough for you to afford such things: you need it to buy things that are essential to your life, and no matter how pretty you're in that dress, you could survive without it.

Again, the story between the luxurious dress you choose and you is going to be nothing more than a one night thing. It will be returned tomorrow, as soon as the store opens — you didn’t even take the price tag off. But you’re hopeful that, one day, you will be able to purchase that kind of clothes for real, that you will be one of those people that shop without looking at the prices before they pay.

It always takes you so much time to prepare yourself because everything needs to be perfect. When your life is at stake, paying attention to every detail is the key, you can’t take the risk to be recognized, no one should be able to see behind the mask you decide to wear.

So, when you get the confirmation that you’ve made the right choices, it is always a deep relief. You tried to gather as much information as you can on tonight's event and the people that are supposed to come, but in the end there is always a lot left to chance. You can spend as much time as you want preparing yourself for what’s coming, it’s impossible to predict everything.

You are not from the same world as them, you’re just pretending to be, and it doesn’t matter how many times you did it with success, you'll always be an outsider. There are so many rules that you don’t know that something as insignificant as a word or a look could be enough to give your identity away.

Hopefully, for the moment everything seems to go fine, the dress you choose was perfect for this evening, at the frontier between elegant and indecent, and no one seems to notice the intruder.

A driver left you in front of the expensive hotel that hosts the event, and you barely had time to unbuckle your belt that a butler was already opening the door for you, helping you to get out of the car. You have to fight the urge to refuse the hand he is holding out to you, and take it with a smile on your face instead. You constantly need to remind yourself about where your place is tonight: at the top of the pyramid, among the ones that do nothing by themselves.

For someone like you, someone that has been on their own for most of their life, it’s weird to be assisted to this extent, and you hate it as much as the first time. This man complies to every of your demands because he fears you, and not because he wants to, let alone because he's paid for it — his salary probably not being enough for the evening he’s going to have.

If only he knew your reality is closer to his than it’s from theirs, you thought as he walked you toward the entrance, but you can't share it with him. You have to play along, to pretend that you’re Lydia Golvorezova perfectly if you don’t want to ruin your plans, even if it includes being rude with a man for whom you have compassion.

Tonight, the butler didn’t get anything from you except a ridiculous penny that you gave him as if he should be grateful for it, as if this action was a symbol of infinite kindness — which he is going to do, thanking you a lot of time for that. The whole time, not a word has been exchanged, you would rather keep your voice for the ones that are worth the effort.

Just like the man that caught your eyes the moment you entered the luxurious hall, Clint Barton. You read an article about him a few days ago, he works as a bodyguard for heads of major companies, despite what one might think, his position makes him an influential and wealthy man, everything you are looking for tonight, so you didn’t hesitate much before making your way toward him.

“Excuse me?” you asked, clearing your throat to get his attention, and you felt the glance of every man he was previously talking with on you, the sudden attention made you feel uncomfortable. “May I?” you added, accompanying your words by a small gesture of the hand toward the glasses of champagne he was standing in front of, feigning being so interested by those.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” he said, immediately stepping aside so you could access the table. “I am sorry for that, miss .. ?” he added and you can’t help but grin at his attempt to learn your name - it was almost too easy.

You barely exchanged a few words, nothing out of the ordinary, but he was already crushing himself to fulfill your desires, already eager for more, and the way he is gazing at you leaves no doubts on the thoughts in his mind, something too indecent for a place like that one.

“Golvorezova, and you?” you replied, the false name slipping easily out of your mouth as you slip nimbly between him and the men he was previously talking to.

It is hard to not smile, to pretend that you didn't notice the way they are glancing at you, with anger and frustration, because you’ve just ruined their only chance to talk to him, too bad that you don’t care. Tonight, Barton is yours.

You don’t care more about the glasses of champagne than you do about these guys, it was just a way to get what you want. You’ve been fond of alcohol, you’ve seen how it changes people’s minds, taking control of their thoughts and bodies, and you would rather continue to use it to your advantage than becoming a victim of it. Even a sip of alcohol could be dangerous, and you would be stupid to drink while working, so you’re just pretending to enjoy the champagne.

“Barton,” he replied briefly, holding his hand out to you for you to shake - which you did with a faint smile on your lips.

“So, do you already know what you're going to bid on?” you asked, trying to pursue the conversation.

You both glance around for a few seconds, not a word is exchanged, just a shrug that underlines his boredom. Despite this party being marked as a charity event, most of the guests are here for other reasons: make an appearance, meet future associates, talk about business, show the world how rich and powerful they are, … there are many reasons for their presence, but none of them is disinterested. His answer is proof that he doesn't care about what’s for sale, maybe he doesn’t even know for whom the benefits are. He will drop an outrageous amount of money, just to pretend he did something good to help those people when he is the cause of their pain, people like you getting their lives destroyed by people like him.

Tonight isn’t about charity, it's about power and influence. That’s why you’re always tense when attending those events, the stakes are bigger than they are for a private party, and so are the risks. Tonight, the whole world has its eyes on what’s happening in that hotel. If you make a mistake, everyone will know, because no one escapes the spotlight tonight, and you're no exception to the rule.

“But, I think I’ve just found the most precious prize,” he said as his gaze came back to you, his smirk letting no doubt about the true meaning behind his words. Maybe if he was a bit more observant he would've noticed how your grip tightens on your glass.

You can’t help but smile, a sign he is going to misinterpret for sure, because behind it, it’s your disgust that’s hidden. He is probably something like twice your age, at least, and doesn’t seem to be interested in anything other than your body.

But the money is worth every sacrifice.

You are about to give him the reply he probably waits to hear, but you are cut before you can even say one word. It is a feminine voice whose tone makes your blood run cold, and even though her words aren’t addressed to you, you feel like you’re the one that did something wrong.

“Does Laura know about your plans?” she asked, and from the way he glanced at her, you guess that she doesn’t.

You felt the woman’s hand on your shoulder before you could see her face. It is only when he left that she took his place, allowing you to meet her gaze. She is stunning, and contrary on you, she wasn’t just playing to be pretty, she truly was.

“Men…,” she sighed as she looked at him walking away, but the truth is that he doesn’t really leave, you can still feel his gaze on you, even from the other side of the room. “I hope he didn't bother you? He can be a bit… inconsiderate sometimes, especially with the pretty girls,” she added, and you realize she is looking you up and down, her glance wandering a bit longer at the same places than the man’s one earlier.

She is not better than him, you thought, maybe a few years younger than he is, but that’s all, they’re from the same world, you have to remind yourself when you realize you too were observing her for a bit too long.

On the outside, you’re still smiling, letting nothing appear on what’s disturbing your mind, but somehow having the feeling that she knows, and you only shake your head, letting her know that everything is fine.

“I don't think I’ve ever seen you …,” she added once she understood you wouldn't say anything, not letting you a chance to find an excuse to slip through her fingers.

Despite appearances, and how friendly the conversation seems to be, the atmosphere is tense between the two of you, it’s like a game has started ; which one is gonna find the other’s secret first? And she never loses a game.

If she interrupted your conversation with Barton, it wasn’t to help you, but him. She doesn't care about his wife, Clint can cheat on her if he wants, it's none of her business as long as his problem doesn’t impact his work, and you look exactly like that kind of problem.

If there is something she cares about, it’s the raptors that get a little too close to her associates, especially the ones that would easily give off information about her business, and Clint may be good at his job, but he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.

She doesn't trust you, and one glance was enough for her to get to that statement. If it wasn’t for Clint, she wouldn’t even have talked to you, but she knows how naive he can be sometimes - and maybe this conversation will help her to point out the thing that bothers her about you, something she hasn’t figured out yet.

“It’s probably because it’s my first in the United States,” you replied, your voice dripping with false sympathy.

You don’t like the woman either, but at least you are hiding your thoughts, something she doesn’t even try to do. You are smiling at her, the expression on your face being so innocent that she questions her instincts, you don’t even seem to catch the threats behind her actions or the true meaning of her words — how someone that oblivious ended up attending such an event? Something she wouldn’t have thought if she was able to see the rage hidden behind your smile, the frustration, the hatred that is slowly growing, because every second spent with her reduces your chances of success.

She sent Barton away, but most importantly, she doesn’t seem to believe everything you say as he would have, and the way she hummed after your last answer gave you a feeling of danger, something is telling you to give up the mission, but you don’t.

“I don’t think I know you either,” you replied, the words slipping from your mouth almost on their own. The conversation probably could have ended up here, if only you hadn't been so curious, if you didn’t genuinely want to learn more about the woman.

“Romanoff,” she eventually said, she seems about to add something else but hesitate for a few seconds before talking, deciding to keep the rough comment she was about to make for herself, “but you can call me Natasha, if you want,” she added, her tone softening to the surprise of you both.

The last words fell from her lips on their own, and they felt like the right thing to say. Maybe it is the way you’re looking at her, with those innocent eyes and smile, that led her to let her guard down so easily. She is trying to find an explanation, but the only satisfying one that comes to her mind is that you are an angel, sent to charm her with that pretty face.

An angel, that’s the word, the only one that’s strong enough to describe what she is seeing right now. From the way the dress follows your curves to the soft features of your face, everything is perfect in her eyes, and even if she tried to, she can’t find a single defect, any more than she is able to keep her suspicions.

She even feels guilty for the way she talked to you previously, her words had been so harsh when you seem to genuinely just want to talk with Barton, not even knowing her name, something unbelievable for someone from her world, someone used to always be a target for everyone, never a friend to anyone.

But you are not from the same world as her, or Barton, she can tell just by looking into your eyes, and that’s the whole problem, because she has no idea how to evolve around someone of your kind, someone that doesn’t even know her name. Her reality is rough, a place where pity and kindness doesn’t exist, where everything is just about who’s the most powerful, it is a world without limits, without morals, and you are the complete opposite.

You are looking like you are made of glass, and when she looks into your eyes, the only thing she sees is the innocence one can only find in the gaze of children. She can tell that you haven’t been broken by life yet, which is a miracle on this planet, and a part of her wants to protect you. She knows it is a selfish wish, because she wants to lock you in a golden cage, somewhere you would be safe and get everything you need, except your freedom. She would hate to see an angel being corrupted, not when they are so rare.

“You can call me Lydia then,” you replied, surprised but satisfied by the turn the events took, maybe you still have a chance to complete the mission. You have no idea what changed her mind, and you don’t question it, but you notice that you somehow now have the woman wrapped around your little finger, and you barely did a thing.

“Lydia,” she repeated after you, as if she needed to say it to believe it, to be sure that you existed, and that you are not some sort of dream, “let me show you around then,” she added, coming back to reality, “the city has a lot of secrets, and I am sure you would appreciate at least some of them.”

Even if it sounds like a question, it is not. She is almost begging you to follow her, as if you would be the one doing a favor to her, when in reality it is the opposite. When you nod, a genuine smile appears on her face, she seems relieved, as if she feared that you could say no. You barely have time to say a word that her hand was already on your lower back, applying a light pressure to guide you outside.

Despite what you said earlier, you know exactly who Natasha Romanoff is, it would have been impossible to ignore her identity when her face is everywhere on the news and streets. However, apart from her name, you don’t know a lot about the woman. She is quite mysterious, always refusing interviews, never answering personal questions, and nothing can be found online, she is a ghost.

All you know are the rumors that depict her as someone that gets everything she wants, and it’s no coincidence that she is now at the head of one of the richest companies on earth. She built her fortune from scratch, and some people say that if she was able to earn that much money so quickly, it’s because part of her business is illegal. However, there is no proof of that, and it’s probably just an idea her opponents are fueling in the hope that it will tarnish her reputation, and impact her business at the same time.

Perhaps you would have acted more prudently if you had those rumors in mind when talking to the woman, but those were forgotten the moment her hand found its way on your back, the way her thumb is brushing circles on your skin being so soft that you let your guard down. For once, maybe you’re going to enjoy the evening, and maybe you will come home feeling something that isn’t self-disgust.

Maybe she is a mean CEO, that would explain the rumors, but maybe life left her no choice, maybe she is a bit like you, a woman that tries her best to survive in this world. When you observe her face under the moonlight, it’s all you can think about.

✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧ • ✧

It is later that day, in the secret of her hotel room, that everything happened. Just as usual, you convinced your victim to make the night last a bit longer, and she brought you to that luxurious room where she is staying. It has been only the two of you, and you actually enjoyed the feeling of her hands on your skin. The praises she whispered in your ears when you were begging her, desperate for the release she denied you, is all you can think about as you are leaving the building the next morning.

The thought of the dirty things she did and told to you are enough to make you blush again, and you are surprised to realize that you’re already missing her presence. You chase those thoughts away, far from your mind, by telling yourself that it was just a play, something that needed to be done, and she will probably be quick to forget about your existence.

She probably used you as much as you did anyway, you noticed the way she looked at you as if you were a porcelain doll, something to possess, something to break. It was a one night thing for the both of you, and it’s probably better that way.

However, this morning, when you woke up, you were reluctant. You wanted to stay in bed, in the warmth of the bed forever, you almost left without stealing anything, feeling guilty to do that to the woman — it was easier when you were hating your victim. You would’ve probably left without taking anything if you didn’t need the money so badly, and you’re sure she won’t miss a few dollars.

By the time she notices you are gone, you are already far away. She was getting out of the bathroom, asking you what you would like for breakfast, and the silence that met her question made her realize that the room was empty, you left.

She was standing in the middle of the room, wrapped in a towel, and her eyes were scanning the room with desperation. The only proof that last night was real are the memories of you beneath her, and a piece of paper on the bedside table. She immediately reached for it, but the paper didn’t say much, and the few words you wrote left a feeling of disappointment in her chest: “Sorry, I have to go, but thanks, the night was cool.”

She doesn’t know what she was hoping for, but for sure she was hoping for more than that, maybe your number, or a promise to come back. It made her feel so silly, and she crumpled the paper before throwing it away, erasing the only evidence of your visit in her room.

Natasha would have liked to share one last moment with you, she thought about getting breakfast at that fancy restaurant across the street. She is thinking about how you would have enjoyed watching the sun rise over the city, as she is sitting here alone. She wished she had a chance to say goodbye to you, because maybe then she would’ve been able to get your number, or anything that would have allowed you to stay in touch, or maybe you didn’t want to. Perhaps you learned about the rumors, and that’s why you left so quickly this morning.

She has been here for maybe one hour when a waitress brings her the note. She was lost in her thoughts the whole time, and barely ate the expensive breakfast she ordered, but she couldn’t care less, money is not a problem when you are one of the richests people on that planet. But to her surprise, when she looks into her wallet, she finds it empty — you only left a few coins.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| part one. part two.

| Tag list : no one atm, but if you're interested, let me know!

#a spes writing #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff fanfiction #dark natasha romanoff #reader insert #female reader #mcu au #mcu women #mcu fanfiction #pretty faces dark souls

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waaayoutofline · 25 days

Text

MRS.CLAUS AND HER HELPER

PROMPTS: “This is just pointless” and “Fine, I’ll just do it myself then.”

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Tags: Grumpy x Sunshine, fluff, awkward Nat, resident sunshine reader, christmas fun! (yes, I’m aware is actually eastern but idc).

Summary —> Natasha has feelings for you. Feelings that make her feel grumpy whenever you are near. Unfortunately, she has no opportunity to avoid you as she is assigned to a holidays mission with you.

WORD COUNT: 2927

“Miss Y/L/N, you are being requested in the conference room,” Friday announced through the speakers, causing you to halt in your tracks, the dummy of practice finally getting a break. Wiping the sweat off your forehead, you stretched your limbs before grabbing a towel. It’s only been three days since you returned from your last mission, so it catches you off guard to be called in already.

After quickly hitting the showers, you head to the lift, pressing the button while humming. But just as the mechanical doors are about to shut, a hand slips in between. “Hey, sorr-…Oh, it’s you,” a rather dry voice comments.

A smile spreads across your lips in a matter of seconds, your eyes following the figure of Natasha Romanoff slipping almost in resignation. “Good morning, Nat!” you greet her cheerfully.

“Morning,” she grumbles. “Where are you going?”

“Conference room,” her eyes widened, enough for you to connect the dots. “Oh, you too? That’s great! Perhaps they assigned us a new mission.”

Natasha, usually a morning person, grumbled. “Oh, yeah… joy,” she says, her tone lacking enthusiasm.

You might think that the red-headed spy isn’t too fond of you. Most would believe she really didn’t like you. She’s always scoffing, complaining, and even whining when forced to be in the same space as you.

But quite the contrary. She is fond of you. That’s the problem.

These fuzzy feelings did nothing but anger her. She has always been in control. She’s supposed to be. She’s a trained assassin, cold and ruthless. And yet, there’s something about you that makes her nerves betray her.

It’s her secret. Well, she is convinced that it’s a secret. The truth is that the whole team is aware. They know how Natasha Romanoff has a soft spot for the resident sunshine. Tony even has a pool going around for when she is going to actually do something about it.

Not that either two of you are aware of this fact.

You seem to be clueless. Unaware of the way Natasha’s ears turn pink whenever you smile at her. Of how her heart aches when you do as little as laugh, the sound so clear and joyful. Of the way she silently but deadly threatens anyone who dares to even tease you. Once, the team, except Wanda and Natasha, devoured your stash of sweets, not aware that they belonged to you. Unfortunately, that day you were particularly sensitive and a few tears slipped away before you could mutter, “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

And unfortunately for the boys, Natasha’s darkened eyes watched silently as the tears caressed your cheeks. The following events that happened are not to be mentioned. Just know that the next day, they all bought bags and bags of your favorite goods, besides apologizing like crazy. Confused, you accepted everything with a “Thanks?”

You aren’t aware of any of that.

She just disconnects as you happily chat away, talking about how excited you were about the incoming Christmas festivities. Plans about decorating the whole tower and baking cookies and brownies and watching Christmas movies with the team and….The ding sound in the air as Natasha practically throws herself out of the lift. You giggle softly, “Where’s the fire at, Nat?” You tease, walking calmly in different ways to her wide, fast-paced steps. Natasha curses to herself, cheeks blazing. It should be illegal to be this cute at such hours.

“I just don’t want to be late,” she snaps. You shrug, not affected by her harshness. That’s another thing that baffled her. Usually, she intimidates even the senior agents with her direct personality and ironic comments and yet, you never seem to be hesitant or scared at all to approach her. It’s like you are immune to it.

Is she losing her touch? She feels like she is losing her touch.

Her hands go to the handle, opening it before doing a painfully awkward gesture for you to go in first. You smile in gratitude when passing next to her, the familiar scent of vanilla making her hold her breath.

“Y/L/N, Romanoff,” Nick greets, dramatically turning around. You say a cheery hello, Natasha just nods. Let’s get this over with. “I know you both just been on a mission, but we need your assistance on this.”

Natasha feels her stomach drop. Taking a seat, the director gives you both two copies of a report. Skimming through it, Natasha’s eyes widen. “Oh no, absolutely not.”

“I knew she was going to say that,” Tony chimes in.

“Don’t give her more reason to not do it, Tony,” Steve sighs.

“Are we sure it’s them?” You ask dubiously, eyes still on the paper. Fury nods.

“Yes. We have had surveillance on them for the last month, all points that they have they must have their next exchange somewhere in this mall. They are using the upcoming festivities to go more unnoticed.”

Natasha sighs. “So what, are we supposed to go and possibly catch them in broad daylight?” Fury shakes his head.

“Not exactly. We need you two to go undercover, keep a low profile and watch out for more suspicious activity. A few boxes of cargo isn’t enough to take the entire operation down. While we know they maybe are dealers on the area we don’t exactly know if it’s a full on operation. ”

The Russian’s eyebrows furrow. “Why not send an agent then? Have them confirm.”

“This is too delicate. A couple of rookies are less likely to draw attention. I need your eyes, subtlety, and Y/N’s enhanced hearing,” Fury explained.

Natasha sighed in frustration, pushing the folder away. “So, you want us to go into a mall full of late Christmas shoppers and look for suspicious drug trade that you’re not even sure is happening there?” she summarized.

Fury nodded. “Aren’t you perceptive, Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha opened her mouth to protest further, but Fury beat her to it. “Now, how do you two feel about Santa?”

***

“Oh no, absolutely not,” Natasha huffs indignantly. The sounds of the rushing people are muffled by the door, the lights already making Natasha dizzy. You turn your head to look at her over the shoulder.

”Oh. Do you want to be the elf, then? I don’t mind-“ She cuts you off with a grunt.

”No, I don’t want to be anything. This is absolutely ridiculous. Just wait until we return to the tower, Fury is going to hear it.” A laugh escapes you at the scowl on her face. She sends you the mean look, but you don’t even flinch.

“It’s not that bad. Think of it as a Christmas spirit operation.” You try to cheer up, not really finding the zipper of the disguise. A scoff.

“We’ve been following this narcotic clan for months now, all leading us into dead ends. Perhaps we should start to consider the fact that they aren’t even in America anymore. This is just pointless.”

You shrugged your shoulders, putting the green suit on your shoulder and going to the changing room. “Fine, I’ll just do it myself then.” The spy’s arms, which were crossed, almost get out of their place as she grabs your arm. Gentle enough to not hurt, but firm enough to stop you.

You look up at her and she feels like she is about to faint. “What- no. What if they are here—…”

“You just said they may not even be here, so there’s nothing to worry about.” The reassurance doesn’t seem to calm her, but you keep walking away. Your legs are barely out of the storage room when she calls you to stop.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, fine! Fine. Just…” She stops you, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Let’s get this over with.” You clap in excitement and face lighting like a christmas tree, spinning happily. A satisfied grin on your face that she doesn’t get to see. “Great! See you in five minutes, Mrs. Claus!” You sing as you finally exit. Natasha almost hits her head on the wall at how easily she just gave in.

She has definitely lost her touch.

***

“Mommy, why is Mrs. Claus looking so grumpy?” a little kid asks her mom as they pass by, the woman giving you two a disapproving look. You nudge Natasha’s side with your elbow.

“Yeah, Mrs. Claus… light it up a little, will you?” You mutter with a tight smile. “And also, don’t sit like that.” Natasha huffs, but changes position on the tall, red velvet-covered chair.

“Shut it, elf, or I’ll have you sent to the North Pole in no time,” she answers snarkily, but you were too distracted relocating the wall of fake gift boxes to have a better view.

Still, you look at her with an eyebrow raised. “What was that?”

A gulp. “Nothing.”

For as sweet as you were, you did know how to throw a mean glare. Was Natasha into it? Absolutely not.

“That’s what I thought.” The cheers of children echo, Natasha’s face paling as they all line up. Before she can say something about it, you put a hand on her shoulder. “Now, smile bright and be nice to the kids.”

”Bet you wouldn’t be so happy about having small people sit on your lap.” Faking a pout, you bend slightly to look her in the eyes.

”Aw, does that mean I won’t have a turn later?” You tease. And suddenly, all the remarks that the redhead had disappeared into thin air, never to be found again. You giggle. “Careful, your face is matching with your disguise.”

She is still sputtering indignantly by the time you redirect your attention to the crowd, a big bright grin on your face. The fact that she finds you cute even in the ridiculous elf suit you’re wearing speaks volumes.

“Merry Christmas everyone!” You greet happily, dramatically doing a reverence. “See, Santa has got a bit too many sweets before going to sleep situation.” Everyone cheers sadly. “But lucky for us, someone came all the way here all the way form the North Pole to save the day, give a big applause everyone for…Mrs.Claus!” Everyone claps excitedly as Natasha does a big, strained smile and salutes everyone to the public. The children (and even the parents) cheer loudly.

“Marry christmas. Who is ready to sit on my lap?” Natasha asks in exaggerated happiness, flushing some more when you give her a sneaky wink. What did she do to deserve this?

***

Ten or so children go by, all asking for their gifts. You want to think that everything is going well so far, no sign of any undercover trafficking, and everyone seems to be having a great time. Even Natasha.

“What do you want, kiddo?” The little boy grins toothlessly.

“I want a pink pony with fire breath and Pegasus wings!” The redhead hesitates.

“Well, those are rare… Anything else that you want?” The kid stops and thinks for a bit.

“Mmm, oh yeah! I want for mom and dad to bring their adult friends home instead of hiding them from each other. That way we can have a party!” Natasha’s eyes widened, choking on air. Your hand flies to your mouth in surprise as Natasha looks at you in panic. You send her a look that screams “You better fix this.”

“A pink flying, fire-breathing pony it is then!”

Besides that one, of course.

As fewer and fewer kids are in the waiting line, you feel yourself relax. If anything were to happen, at least there won’t be people who will get hurt. Natasha stretches lightly on the chair. When looking at the next kid, a little smile appears on her face. “Would you look at that? You look exactly like a smaller version of someone I know,” she mentions as she pulls the kid onto her lap.

The girl smiles, and you get an idea of who she reminded her of. “Really? From the North Pole? Is she magical?” Natasha makes an exaggerated thinking face while you scoff lightly.

“Well, she is a little bit of a troublemaker at times…” Natasha says dramatically, making the girl laugh. “But yeah… you could very well say she is magical.” Her voice is soft, sincere. You can’t help but blush a little.

***

“Ugh, I’m sweating. Why is this thing so hot?” Natasha complained as you two walked side by side, finally being able to catch a break. You nodded absentmindedly, your eyes wandering until you suddenly froze. Still wrestling with the disguise, Natasha didn’t notice. “I’m suffocating. This can’t be legal…”

“Natasha,” a couple of men scurried into a door next to the bathroom stalls. You recognized the characteristic tattoo of a crossed couple of spears on their necks until they both disappeared.

“It has way too many zippers and—” You hit her with your elbow, startling her.

“Stop it! Give me some room to complain, woman. I’ve already accepted plenty of your side eyes this morning.”

Rolling your eyes, you pulled her along by her hand. Her eyes stuck where you two were touching. “What are you…” As you opened the door, you followed down the hallway, being careful not to be spotted. Shushing her and slightly pulling her against the wall to cover with the shadows, you pointed to the now visible men, who were around the corner in a small operation room. There were gift-themed boxes scattered everywhere, alongside bags of bright purple powder. Still, for anyone, it could be said this was a normal management room.

“Pretty sure there aren’t any Barbie houses in those boxes,” Natasha muttered. You nodded, counting the number of guys. “So that’s how they do it. They benefit from the holidays to smuggle the drugs…” She trailed off.

“…and because there is so much activity and shipment movement it goes easily under the radar.” You finished happily, looking up at her with a grin, only to notice that she was already watching you. Her eyes locked on your hand, which still rests softly on her upper chest, the space between the two of you being almost nonexistent. In your excitement, you didn’t notice how close you were.

For a second, you didn’t say anything. No happy comments or quick remarks. She didn’t say anything either, no sarcastic retort or reproach. The only sounds were your breaths and the faint pulse of a frantic heart.

Even if it felt like it was frozen, there was this notion that one of the two was moving slightly closer. If not both of you. But as it turns out, time didn’t actually freeze, and it didn’t take much for someone to spot you.

“Hey, what are yo-… Oh shit.” Someone exclaimed, making both of you jump away from each other. You caught the movement of Natasha reaching for the taser that (you didn’t approve of) was strapped on her back. However, a quick analysis of the man’s face told you enough to make her stop. She looked at you in confusion before reading the spark in your eyes. A nod.

“Oh, sorry, we thought this was an empty closet…” You giggled, dramatically grabbing Natasha’s arm and putting your face on Natasha’s shoulder, nuzzling her neck. You felt her tense before her arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer. You were pretty sure that extra beat wasn’t because of the adrenaline.

“This place is restricted to the public,” he muttered, flustered.

“Sure. How about we try the changing room, sweetheart?” Natasha muttered, loud (and suggestive) enough for the man’s awkwardness to grow tenfold and leave.

“What was that, man?”

“Nothing, just Mrs. Claus and her helper making out.”

It wasn’t long until you both returned to the first level of the mall. “Alright, this should be enough distance…” Natasha mutters, looking for any more tattooed men. Suddenly, an unusually soft, warm sensation process on her mind, looking down she can still see both your hands enterwined. You are looking to, but don't make any attempt to “fix” the situation.

“C’mon, let’s go inform Fury to bring in the team.” Immediately after that, you are pulling her along, Natasha’s face now fully complementing the same shade of her Mrs.Claus dress. If it was because of embarrassment or another feeling entirely she will not tell.

One thing she can say for sure. Perhaps this whole “christmassy operation” wasn’t bad after all.

***

—extra

(A FEW MOMENTS LATER, IN THE TOWER…)

”Great job, agents. I appreciate your work.” Fury hangs the calls, turning to the rest of the team. “Apparently, they found out actual activity of the smuggling. Have plenty of high ranked operators and shipment cargo.”

“Why the surprise?” Bruce questions, while Tony laughs.

”Shit, they actually did?” Everyone looks at him confused. “What? You guys don’t know?”

The room fills with puzzled looks as Steve exhales audibly in his chair. “This operation was merely a facade to orchestrate a charming little rendezvous between Natasha and Y/N. It’s rather remarkable they stumbled upon anything, considering the slim odds,” he elucidates nonchalantly.

”And Fury greenlit this?”

“I did. I’ve grown weary of witnessing Agent Romanoff’s infatuation with Y/N—it’s proving distracting. Even the junior agents are indulging in speculation about their eventual…get together. Sooner rather than later, I say,” Fury explains, shrugging indifferently.

“You did what?!” Natasha growled, practically kicking the door down.

Most people have never seen a single emotion on the director's face. But the ones who were there that day would forever remember the flash of fright that flashed in Nick Fury's good eye.

#mcu #marvel #natasha romanoff #fanfic #nat x reader #natasha x reader #fluff #oneshot #short prompt #christmas #grumpy nat #reader insert

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softestqueeen · 4 months

Text

slipping and gliding pt. 1

pairing: natasha romanoff x afab!reader

summary: When the Avengers spend a day at the local water park, you start to see a certain redhead in a different light. You’ve never had anything with a woman before, but Natasha doesn’t mind showing you what feels good.

warnings: 18+ MDNI!! semi-public sex, fingering, shower sex, inexperienced reader, shy reader, kissing, pet names (sweetheart)

wordcount: 2053 words

a/n: Yess, finally I’m writing something that’s wlw! I’ve wanted to do this for quite some time, and this is the perfect scenario. Enjoy <3

After a few incredibly stressful weeks, filled with mission after mission, Tony Stark decided that the Avengers needed a little break. So, he did what was every teenagers wet dream. (pun intended)

He rented out a whole water park.

Jup. The whole thing, just for the lot of you.

But you didn’t mind it. You could lounge around, eat for free at the buffet, and when laying in the sun got too hot you could go for a swim or try out the huge slide, which was the highlight of the park.

You, the other girls of the team, and also a few of the other SHIELD agents, like Maria Hill were lounging around, when you suddenly had the urge to go down that huge slide. It just looked like so much fun and you definitely needed an adrenaline rush that was not induced by the possibility of getting killed.

You got up, announced to the group that you would check out the slide and off you were. After a few meters you noticed someone joining you.

When you looked to the side you saw your colleague and good friend Natasha Romanoff falling into step with you.

“You can only use the slide with someone else. There are only swimming rings for two. But I’ll gladly go with you.”, after that the redhead sent you a wink and a smile. Only a small whispered ‘thank you’ left your lips before you looked ahead of you again and got lost in your thoughts.

Did she always look this good? This was the first time you noticed how smooth her hair falls over her shoulder or how beautiful the head looks that sits on that pretty neck. Her skin was flawless, and she looked like she just stepped out of a magazine. You could see why she was called the most beautiful Avenger.

Did you feel attracted to Natasha? No, that’s impossible. You’ve never felt something for another woman, nor had something with one and you and Nat were only friends! Why did she suddenly make you feel this way?

It seemed like it was only getting warmer and warmer and you were glad that you were about to go on that slide and get into the icy water.

The two of you were silent on the way up, the stairs seeming to stretch into eternity. But before you could overthink your feelings even more, the two of you arrived at the top and the instructor showed you how to sit down on the swimming ring.

Nat sat down into the first opening, and you sat down in front of her. You both laid down flat and you laid onto her, your head between her boobs and your lower back touched her most intimate parts.

Being this close to her made you feel some kind of way. You didn’t have too much time to think about it though, because in the next moment you were sliding down, and all other thoughts were gone.

You and Nat enjoyed the short but exciting ride, screaming in excitement . You hit the water and felt Natashas body covering yours before she smoothly slid up from you and dived to the surface. You followed after her and when you both resurfaced and made eye contact, you broke out into laughter.

It seemed like everything went back to normal, though you still couldn't get her out of you head and stop your racing mind.

You returned the ring and made you way back to the towels and lounge chairs. Once there you grabbed a towel and a fresh bathing suit.

“I’m going to head to the lockers, I need to put on a dry bathing suit.”, you told Nat before heading to the building where the lockers were. There were also showers and changing rooms inside of it, so all of it was easily accessible.

You entered the building and went to the showers. Putting down your towel and dry change, you were about to take off your bikini when you felt two hands grabbing your waist and turning you around.

You could just make out Nat’s face before she pressed you against the wall and pressed her lips to yours. You let out a surprised gasp before you got lost in her taste, her scent seeming to overwhelm you. She grabbed your waist again and pulled your wet bodies against each other before she grabbed your ass with her free hand. The sudden action made you gasp, and Nat didn’t waste this opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth.

Her hands start to roam your body and you were getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

When you both pulled away, Nat whispered against your lips. “I know you want this too, sweetheart.”

You just nodded, not listening to what she was actually saying. You just wanted, no needed, to feel her lips against yours again. You put one of your hands on the back of her neck and the other one went to her waist.

You pulled her in and connected your lips again. Both your and Nat’s hands were now freely roaming and groping each other. You were sure that the wetness you were feeling did not just come from the pool.

You were kissing a little more before you felt Nat’s thigh between your legs, pressing up against you, stimulating your clit and making you moan into her mouth. She kept on moving her thigh and squeezing your hips, holding you in place. It didn’t take long before you felt Nat’s hand roaming again and wandering towards your middle.

You were quick to catch her wrist, stopping her from going any further. She pulled away and looked at you, puzzled, because she thoughts that’s what you wanted.

“I’m sorry Nat. I haven’t done any of this before.”, you told her while looking at the floor, not daring to look into her eyes that you were sure were filled with anger towards you.

But Nat was having none of it and put a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to meet her understanding and soft gaze.

“You’ve never had sex before? Sweetheart are you a virgin?”, she asked you without a hint of deception in her voice.

“Well, I had sex before, just never with a woman. I guess in that aspect; yea, I’m still a virgin.”, you answered with a sheepish smile and a blush on your cheeks.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good. Trust me.”, she whispered against your lips before she kissed you again and you believed her every word.

She kept pressing her thigh against you and you slowly started to meet her thrusts and grind down on her, slowly gaining more confidence.

Her hands started roaming your body again, while you were still holding onto her neck and waist. Her hand was slowly wandering towards your core again, but before she touched you, she pulled away.

“Is it okay when I touch you here, sweetheart?”, she asked you.

You just nodded before pressing your lips against hers again.

Her hands travelled towards your wet pussy, going under your bikini bottom. You let out a soft gasp when you felt her hand moving between your folds. She tested out the waters by spreading your wetness around, caressing your folds before making contact with your swollen clit.

Feeling her at your sensitive clit made you moan into her mouth. The kiss wasn’t as heated anymore but slowed down felt more intimate. Her thigh stopped pressing against you now that her hand took over.

She removed her hand and pulled away, making you whine and chase her lips.

“Patience, sweetheart.”, were the only words that left her mouth before she opened the strings on your bikini top.

Her thigh went back to your cunt, stimulating you while she started caress your boobs. She slowly traced them with featherlight touches before she went over to straight up groping you. You let out moans and whimpers at the stimulation you were getting both from her thigh and her hands.

Her hands on you felt incredible and you wished you could feel her on you forever. She leaned forwards and started to trail kissed over your boobs and over your sternum. Your hand moved from her neck into her hair when you felt her lips on one of your perked nipples.

She slightly sucked on it and circled her lips around it, just how you imagined she would do it with your clit. The thought of her mouth on your cunt made a new flood of wetness rush to your core.

She repeated the same treatment on your other breast before she completely pulled away.

“How about we take this to the shower?”, she asked you with a smile on her face.

“That sounds good.”, you answered her, but you were quickly left speechless when you saw Nat taking off her black bathing suit.

She was breathtaking. She was always beautiful but seeing her completely bare was something else. The soft curve of her breasts and hips, her toned stomach and legs that seem to go on forever.

She took your hand in hers to lead you to one of the showers and once she turned around you could see a small tattoo adorning her lower back. That simple fact made her seem even more human and vulnerable, the fact that under that beautiful façade was a human being that had gone through so much.

But once she put on the shower and you felt the droplets of water gliding down your bodies all other thoughts were erased from your mind. All that was left was the sight of Natasha under the stream of water, momentarily closing her eyes to feel the warm water.

You joined her under the spray, pressing your lips against hers. She was quick to press you against the wall again, immediately taking over.

The kiss got more intense, and her hand went to your pussy again. She started to slide between your folds and circled your clit, finding a steady rhythm.

Once you’ve gotten used to the feeling of her hand against you, Nat took it a step further. With her middle finger she entered your tight pussy, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. She slowly started to pump her finger in and out of you, slowly adding a second finger while her thumb was stroking your clit, and her other hand was groping your ass. Your hips were moving against her hand and your wet bodies were pressed together, gliding over each other, the steady stream of the water only made it more sensual.

When she added a third finger you could feel the coil in your stomach starting to tighten. Nat could feel you clench around her fingers and started pumping them faster, also adding to the pressure on your clit.

You came with shout that was muffled by Nat’s mouth, while she was gradually becoming slower, helping you through your orgasm.

Once you calmed down, she pulled her fingers out of you and gently cupped your face. She pecked your lips before pulling you completely under the stream of the shower with her. She left for a moment, getting some shower gel that was provided and started washing you, her hands gliding over your body making you all worked up again. She lathered shampoo into your hair, massaging your scalp and making you melt into her hands.

Once she was done, you felt the urge to feel her body again, so you gave her the same treatment; gently washing her body and her hair.

Nat pecked your lips once again, before turning off the shower and getting a towel, drying your body and hair before doing the same with herself. Both of you got dressed in some dry clothing.

But before the two of you left the locker area, Nat turned to you.

“How about we cut this little trip short and continue with what we started, sweetheart?”, she asked you, a breathtaking smile on her lips and no shame about her suggestion.

“There’s nothing I’d rather do.”, you truthfully answered before taking her hand in yours, excited about what she has in store for you, once you were back at the tower.

a/n: i'm thinking about writing a part 2, so please tell me if you's like to see/read one. i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueen

part 2

taglist: @silvermagnolias @milywatermelon @BigBananaa

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lots-of-pockets · 1 year

Text

Touch starved

Pairings: Natasha x reader

Words: 2497

Warnings: none

Summary: It’s no secret that Natasha is extremely touch starved, but was far too shy and stubborn to admit it. She constantly makes up excuses for you to hold her. Tummy ache. Head ache. It was only after a particular challenging mission do you finally catch on.

You look up from your phone when you hear your girlfriend sigh heavily from the other side of the couch. She’d been home from work for a little over an hour, and after catching one another up on your days, you’d both taken residence on your respective sides of the couch for your weekly movie night.

“You okay?” You ask quietly as you gently nudge her with your foot, and Natasha looks your way for a short second before nodding her head. Although you were a little suspicious with just how truthful she was being, you’d learned from months of experience it wasn’t worth pushing. With one last glance her way, you bring your attention back to your phone.

You were currently window shopping for books. It had been a while since you’d treated yourself to a new one. You manage to add three to your basket that sound somewhat decent before you hear Natasha sigh again, and you once again find yourself focusing all of your attention on her.

“That was a heavy sigh,” you note as you lock your phone and place it onto the coffee table, and the red head shrugs her shoulders. “You sure you’re okay?” You ask.

Natasha seems to hesitate slightly before she flickers her eyes over to you. “I just have a headache.” She murmurs with a forced smile, and you pout slightly as you hold out your arms. The way Natasha’s eyes light up fills your stomach with butterflies, and you easily welcome her into your embrace when she crawls into your arms and settles on top of you.

Her head ends up nestled just underneath your chin, and her arms circle themselves securely around your waist. You wrap your arms around her before beginning to gently trail your hand up and down her back, your lips pressing softly against the top of her head in a tender kiss.

You feel her warm breath hit the skin of your neck when she lets out a soft sigh through her nose, and you find yourself holding her just that bit tighter.

“Skin.” Natasha murmurs against you, and you smile slightly as you reach down and slip your hand beneath her shirt to rest against the bare skin of her back. As you begin to make gentle circles, you feel her hum in content, and the smile on your lips was instantaneous.

It was just two days later that you feel the deja vu hit you. This time, you and Natasha were in bed, and the tv opposite playing a documentary about sea animals. It had captured your attention almost immediately, your inner nerd shining through, but Natasha’s mind, you noticed, appeared to be completely elsewhere. Her eyes were on the tv, but you could tell she really wasn’t paying attention.

“Nat?” You question, resting a hand on her thigh and giving it a soft squeeze. The red head hums as her eyes flicker over to you, and your lips quirk up into a soft smile as you reach up to give her cheek a soft touch. She seems to instinctively lean into the affection “You okay?” You ask.

That same hesitation on her face was visible almost immediately.

“Stomach ache.” She murmurs, sending you a strained smile. Something about her tone tells you she wasn’t being entirely truthful, but you knew she had no reason to lie so it must just be your tiredness getting to you.

“C’mere.” You murmur, sliding down in bed a little and holding out your arms. Natasha seems to relax instantly as she scoots herself over and falls into your arms, her arms securing themselves around your waist as yours circle easily around her shoulders.

You press a soft kiss to her forehead before bringing your attention back to the tv, your hand beginning to absentmindedly trail up and down her back.

“I love you.” You hear her murmur almost bashfully against your chest, and you smile softly as you return the sentiment. It wasn’t often that Natasha speaks those three words, but you knew without a doubt she loved you as much as you loved her. It was in the things she does and says.

Have a good day at work. Drive safe. A soft embrace and a gentle kiss against your cheek.

For so long she had fought the affection you’d give her. She’d go rigid beneath your touch. Make up an excuse to leave the room the second she saw you coming. She’d lived under the motto that had been installed in her from the mere age of six for so long that it was a hard habit to break.

Love is for children. It makes you weak. I don’t deserve it.

Those walls were still there sometimes. She still hides herself away when things get too much, but those days were now thankfully now few and far between.

You let out a soft sigh as you hold your girl close.

You don’t think you have ever loved anyone more.

You hum lightly beneath your breath as you stir the pasta sauce on the stove, the corners of your lips quirking up into a soft smile when you hear the distinct sound of your front door opening and closing signalling your girlfriend was home. Natasha had been away on a mission for two days, and you missed her more than you could ever bring yourself to admit.

“Baby? It that you?” You call as you turn down the heat, wiping off your hands on a clean hand towel before going to investigate.

You were met with the sight of a tired looking Natasha still dressed in her blackwidow suit kicking off her boots, and you pout slightly at the sight as you immediately head over to her and pull her into her arms. She immediately falls limp against you, so much so that you practically end up holding her up.

“Did everything go okay?” You ask in a quiet murmur as you bring your hand up to cup the back of her head, and she just barely nods against you as her arms tighten around your waist.

“Any injuries?” You push, a little concerned at how quiet she was being.

Natasha nods slightly, “Just a sprained ankle.”

Despite her words, you couldn’t help but smile. Gone were the days that she’d hide whatever injuries she had from you, and though she didn’t outright tell you when she was hurt, she never lied when you asked.

“Let’s go get you sorted. I have dinner ready for when you’re done.” Deciding that you didn’t really want to let her go, you simply bend at the knees and place your arms beneath her behind before lifting her up into your arms. Though Natasha startles slightly at the action, she doesn’t hesitate to loop her legs lightly around your hips and allow you to carry her through into the bathroom.

You gently place her down onto the closed toilet seat and leave her to get undressed as you head through to your shared bedroom to grab her some clean clothes. When you make it back, she was clad in nothing but her bra and underwear, and you smile slightly at the sight as you grab the first aid kit from beneath the sink before kneeling down in front of her.

You don’t need to ask which ankle it was. Her right one was significantly more bruised and swollen than the left, and with a small frown, you grab an ace bandage and begin to carefully wrap it up.

“We’ll get some ice on that after you’ve eaten.” You tell her as you secure the bandage with a safety pin, and Natasha nods as she lets out a quiet sigh before reaching for her shirt. Before you knew it, dinner was finished and you were on the couch with Natasha’s foot in your lap. You were holding an ice pack to her ankle whilst she stares up at the ceiling, your finger tips grazing up and down her bare leg.

Natasha seems to relish in the feeling of your touch, but with the way she was constantly shifting in place you knew she wasn’t as comfortable as she seemed.

Getting an inkling as to what was wrong, you replace your lap with a pillow before scooting out from beneath her. You crawl up her body before curling yourself up next to her, throwing a leg over her hips and resting your head against her shoulder.

“Better?” You ask quietly as you slip your hand underneath her tank top to rest on her bare stomach, and you feel her nod ever so slightly.

You end up falling asleep on the couch, only waking up in the early hours of the morning when you feel Natasha shifting beneath you.

“You okay?” You murmur hoarsely as you climb off of her and attempt to rub the sleep out of your eyes, and Natasha nods as she sits herself up.

“Gotta pee.” She murmurs with a tired smile as she rises to what feet, and you immediately return it as you watch her limp away.

Man she was so cute.

For the next few days, Natasha seems to milk her sprained ankle. She doesn’t outright say so, and you knew she was trying her best to be subtle, but after knowing her for so long and being able to read her cues, that black widow mask she puts on was no longer so effective allowing you to see right through her.

Her ankle was fine. Hell, Natasha operated with ease with busted ribs and had done so many times before. That wasn’t even mentioning the amount of times she’d been shot and was still able to make it back to the quinjet without help.

It tells you that she was simply using her ankle as an excuse to earn affection. It breaks your heart that she didn’t have the courage to simply just ask you to hold her, but you similarly do not have the courage to call her out on it because you knew how much it takes for her to allow herself to be vulnerable with you.

You didn’t want to break that trust. And you could also be wrong. Maybe her ankle really was bothering her. Maybe the tummy aches and head aches were real too and you were just overthinking things. But what if you weren’t?

As you eye Natasha from your place against the kitchen island, you put your plan into action.

Mission Natasha was underway.

The next day, almost like clockwork, Natasha gets all quiet again. You ask her what was wrong, and when she tells you it was just a headache, your suspicions grow. That, however, does not stop you from wrapping her up into her arms and holding her close, and you so without any hesitation.

It happens again two days later, except for this time, it was a back ache as opposed to a headache or stomachache. You offer her a massage, but she turns it down with the excuse that it didn’t hurt that bad.

She, however, does not turn down the offer of a hug, leaving you now one hundred percent sure. All that was left for you to do was find the courage to talk to her about it, and you dreaded the response that would greet you.

The opportunity ironically arises the very next day. Natasha had yet another headache and was currently sprawled out on top of you. It was silent with the exception of the dull murmur the movie playing on the tv was emitting, and though it takes you a while, you finally find yourself able to speak.

“You know you don’t have to be injured or hurting for me to hold you, right?” You murmur as you instinctively tighten your grasp around her, worried, at your words, that she’d try to get away.

Turns out your intuition was correct, because no sooner had those words left your lips, you feel her tense up before attempting to crawl out of your arms. She seemed to be acting upon instinct alone, and your heart breaks further.

“Sshh baby, no, don’t go. I’m not mad, it’s okay.” You rush to reassure, and though Natasha visibly hesitates, she eventually allows herself to once again fall limp against you again. You could tell she was still wary however, and you knew you had to be careful with whatever you said next.

“I love you,” you start as you bring your legs up, Natasha’s lower body settling in the gap that had been created. “And I absolutely adore holding you. You don’t ever have to be worried about me telling you no or pushing you away, okay? I promise.” You attempt to reassure as you cup the back of her head and press a tender kiss to her hairline, and though Natasha doesn’t say anything, you do feel her nod slightly against your chest.

With the knowledge she was now aware of how you felt, you decide it would be best to change the subject. She knew feelings on the matter, and it was up to her on what she chooses to do with them.

You could only hope she picked right.

About a week passes with no more excuses from Natasha. But that also means no cuddles either. You were admittedly a little worried, but as she wasn’t being distant with you and was her normal cheeky self otherwise, you decide not to question it.

It was on a random Monday whilst you were cooking dinner that something amazing happens. Natasha wonders casually into the kitchen and sends you a smile as she heads to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. You were under the assumption that was all she needed and was going to head back into the living room to carry on with the mission reports, just as she’d been doing for the majority of the day.

But she doesn’t. She takes a mouthful of the water before setting the bottle down, hesitating only briefly before sneaking behind you and securing her arms around your waist. You initially freeze in shock, but was quick to snap out of it before allowing yourself to lean back into her arms.

“Hi baby,” you greet casually as you place your hand on the ones she had settled on your stomach, giving them a soft squeeze. You knew not to focus too much attention onto what she was doing, because you knew she’d end up second guess herself and pulling away. “Dinners nearly ready.

“Hi moya lyubov'.” She murmurs, “sounds good.”

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I adored writing it 🤍

#natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #reader insert #natasha x y/n #black widow #fluff #natasha romonova #yelena belova #widow sisters

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