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sytoran · 5 months

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ARSONIST'S LULLABYE

kinktober day 011 | cheerleader!natasha x player!reader

"don't you ever tame your demons but always keep them on a leash" — arsonist’s lullabye, hozier

summary. natasha gets more attached than expected after a one-night-stand with the college's infamous player, both on the field and with the ladies. however, she's always been good at getting what she wants.

rating 18+ | word count 7438 (shittt)

note. natasha is 18 and y/n is 19, y/n is described to be masc-representing (eg. cropped hair, compression tee + grey sweats, tattoos, piercings)

note ii. please please please please take your time to read it, you don't understand how long i've spent pondering over every intricacy in this fic.

note iii. drinking game: take a shot every time i say 'don't fall for the player'

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

Don’t fall for the player.

This was a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Students in this renowned college came from all walks of life — from children of billionaires to self-made achievers, from prodigal minds to brilliant brains. One thing stood for certain, though, and that was the infamous Y/N L/N.

It was a rumour, tried and true, that every single girl — regardless of their sexuality, physical appearance, or social status — would all eventually fall under the spell of the school’s “player”. Try as they might, victim after victim fell helplessly for an effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

The chase never lasted long, a one-sided apex predator hunt. Once you had your eyes set on someone, there was simply no escaping the undeniable fact that the following morning, that girl would wake up in bed next to you.

Problem was, you had this rule, written in stone: Never sleep with a girl more than once.

Alas came the cruel and vicious cycle of girls falling under your spell within milliseconds, only to have their heart shattered within the next twenty-four hours. Sometimes even less.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) The wiser ones kept a distance, but either way, one fact stood true, the moment one stepped into Avengers Institution.

Don’t fall for the player.

Little did you know, soon would arrive a thorn in your plans, an unwanted distraction, your ultimate downfall.

All due to an equally irresistible girl by the name of Natasha Romanoff.

***

“You’re fuckin’ impressive for a freshman, Natasha,” Pepper whistles, clapping her on the back. “Consider yourself a member of the Avengers Institution’s cheerleading squad.”

Natasha nods breathlessly, dropping the pom-poms onto the ground. She had just completed a complicated routine for the cheerleading tryouts, a rigorous one with flips and twirls that required pristine balance.

“I guess that’s expected from a girl who was with the Red Room,” Sharon adds, somewhat snidely. She was another freshman trying out for the cheerleading squad, with a snake-like smile that was coated with too much venom to convey any sort of genuineness.

Natasha returns the smile blankly, false emotions overtaking her face like second nature — propriety, expectations, rectitude. She knew what those words meant, when they put emphasis on the Red Room.

The Red Room, in question, was one of the highest-class organisations internationally that trained talented young female cheerleaders. With a near overly-daunting curriculum, payment fees so impossibly high, and only the most renowned instructors, the Red Room was essentially associated with filthy rich wealth and spoiled privileged kids.

And such comes the tragedy of warped views on capitalism and the unfairness of the world. Sharon leans next to Natasha’s ear in the false pretence of picking something up, but her lips move dangerously swiftly and whisper, “Daddy’s money lets you get everything you want, hm?”

It only takes a second, and then the faux-innocent perpetrator briskly moves away as if nothing had occurred. Natasha stands still, the gripe washing over her back like a cold shower. She steels her shoulders, refusing to be provoked. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born with a silver-studded spoon in her mouth.

Shrugging off the strange looks some of the other girls give her, Natasha hides her annoyance by fiddling with her short skirt. Alongside college came the novelty of less-strict clothing etiquette, and that resulted in the most miniscule cheerleading skirts Natasha had ever worn in her life.

“Ready on the count of three,” Carol announces, tapping her clipboard with a ballpoint pen, surveying the expanse of the wide field.

It wasn’t Natasha’s fault she simply got everything she wanted.

“One.”

An invisible force of magnetism pulls Natasha’s gaze to the bleachers above the field, unyielding and unstoppable. There stands a tall and dark figure in a relaxed position, looking directly at her with piercing eyes. A shiver of anticipation sweeps through the air, and Natasha feels goosebumps rise on her skin.

“Two.”

Aloof charisma exudes from the person’s very presence, so compelling and captivating that it takes Natasha a moment to realise that there’s another girl standing next to the enigmatic soul. She’s chatting animatedly, under a false belief that she’s got your attention, but Natasha knows better.

Her eyes travel over the person’s sculpted figure clad in a leather jacket, tacit confidence written in your lazy smirk and composed posture. Electricity erupts in Natasha’s bloodstream, sending shockwaves coursing through her mindwires, forcing her to look back up to your alluring, forsaken eyes.

“Three.”

Natasha’s body moves mechanically, practised and poised. The rhythm thrumming from the portable speaker seeps into her practised muscles without her brain actually registering it, still reeling from the sheer impact of you.

If there was a fracture in her composure, if her routine was ever-so-slightly off, if her legs trembled more than it normally would’ve, Natasha would blame you.

Natasha would blame you and your stupid smirk, your silly leather jacket, your sickeningly magnetic allure. How you made her feel unstoppable with that come-hither gaze, then left her so low when your eyes inevitably left her.

And suddenly, like a golden key slotting into place, the words Natasha had heard whispered in the hallways finally made sense. The coveted prayer that could only be spoken under hushed tones and divine lips.

Don’t fall for the player.

When Natasha finishes the series of tumbles that ignites impressed cheers from the senior cheerleaders, she lifts her lowered eyes back to the bleachers.

Only to find your lips locked with the blonde girl from before, your hands creeping dangerously low on her back. You move like a predator python, the silver piercings in your ears glinting in the light with every of your calculated moves.

A burning feeling courses through Natasha’s veins, like an ugly green monster unfurling gradually, indescribable anger making her jaw tick.

Don’t fall for the player? Well, now that just sounded like a challenge.

***

Natasha makes her way through the crowd of students filing out from the lecture hall. The chatter fades to a background buzz in her ears as she beelines towards a group of more bearable folks.

“No, they’re a sophomore,” Wanda explained, leaning against the locker door.

“Who’re we talking about?” Natasha intercepts with a curious gaze, slinging an arm around Clint lackadaisically. Professor Banner’s lectures were highly educational, but he tended to drone on a little, and she could feel the rising boredom making its slow crescendo into the back of her mind.

Clint raises his eyebrows amusedly, then lowers his voice in humorous dramatisation. “The player.”

Natasha’s face flashes in recognition at your title. Several things flit across her mind in rapid succession — a fetching character, a lofty smirk, and a pretty girl hanging off a forearm.

“So, this uh… What’s her name?” Natasha tries to ask subtly, faking an expression of indifference. Clint, as always, side-eyes her with a playfully accusatory glance. Natasha shrugs with an odd feeling of guilt.

“Well, I’m a sophomore too, so I do have the guilty pleasure of knowing Y/N L/N,” Wanda said with a bit of a grin.

“Knows her in more ways than one!” Sam cackles, ducking as Wanda swipes at him.

Natasha feels that burning feeling rising in her chest again, and perhaps it was due to the knowledge that someone else had experienced being in bed with you — which was arguably silly, because of course you slept with plenty of women, but that didn’t quell her growing unease.

“Was the sex really that good?” Clint asks bluntly, folding his arms as he leans against the locker next to Darcy. Natasha chokes on air.

Wanda only raises an eyebrow, as if to question the poor boy of his doubts of your sexual prowess. Her knowing smirk told a thousand tales, of your sentient being seemingly reincarnated from a Goddess of Sex, of your mighty skillset of lust, the ultimate sapphic enigma.

“You tryna pull a lesbian, birdboy?” Natasha asks dryly, nudging Clint in the rib. The jibe doesn’t even give her that satisfaction. Thinking about you again had unnerved her very skin, causing clammy hands and a dry mouth.

“She leaves all the girls the morning after, though, so don’t get your hopes up,” Wanda sighs wistfully, waving her hand in the air as if she prophesied of a legend. “It’s a one-night-wonder. Kind of like an eclipse. Only happens once, but when it does, it’s really astronomical.”

Natasha flexes her fingers to get her blood flowing. All this talk about your specialised skillset in bed was making her heart flutter, in the best way possible, but maybe that per se was the worst thing possible.

Because she might acknowledge that you were attractive, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wanted to sleep with you, right?

“And that’s why it's a common tongue around here,” Wanda concludes. “Don’t fall for the player. Simple as that.”

On cue, the noise in the hallway comically fades to silence. The gathered crowds of students make way for a quickly striding figure, clad in the same dark clothing Natasha thought about day and night.

Crossing the hallway with an easy purpose and confident composure, you walk past girls who could be seen swooning. Your gaze slides over them casually, sending small smiles here and there but never really quite focusing.

Until your eyes meet Natasha’s, of course. Like a love scene straight out of a drama, your composure cracks fractionally, and your loose confidence is subverted. It only takes a second before your persona snaps back into place.

“Hey, Natasha,” A smooth voice spills out from your angel-crafted lips. Your voice runs over her weak-willed skin, suddenly so vulnerable in your presence, and then you’re gone.

Natasha stills in place, staring after your disappearing figure. Your two words had left such a searing imprint into the front of her mind that it was honestly concerning. The chatter rises again, as if you were never there.

“Looks like you’re Y/N’s next conquest,” Wanda comments, mildly impressed. “Good luck, my friend. Just remember, don’t fall for the player.”

***

Why on earth there was a dorm party on the second day of school was a question that would forever remain unanswered.

Perhaps the adolescent spirit was the root cause of it, free and tameless and reckless, or maybe it was the temptation of alcohol and attractive folks, intoxicating and thrilling.

Either way, Natasha was here for a good time, not a long time.

Her short midnight dress flounces as she makes her way over to the partially occupied couch, the rather risky slit making its way up her thigh to reveal awfully beddable skin.

“Hey, babe!” Wanda calls enthusiastically, waving her over. There’s a Matrix movie playing on the screen, Natasha isn’t clear of which one, and there are students sprawled over the couch, the floor, and on each other.

She ends up playing a game of truth or dare with strangers, driven by warm bodies and the repetitive encouragement to indulge in a little bit of ‘fun’.

“Truth!” Darcy yells drunkenly, almost crushing her red solo cup of cheap alcohol.

“Jeez, woman,” Carol mutters, sighing at the tipsy girl’s antics. “So, truth— ever had a threesome?”

A bunch of ‘ooh’s wave like a ripple through the huddle of students, but Darcy answers with surprisingly quick coherence for a woman on her sixth cup of beer. “Hell yeah,” she drawls. “Y/N and Jane. Best night of my fuckin’ life.”

Natasha feels that wildly uncomfortable feeling of butterflies fluttering — no, thrashing, around in her stomach. It’s absolutely ridiculous that she’s so easily unsettled by you.

Said Jane Foster flushes in her seat, clearly embarrassed at having her sex life exposed. She waves a hand, trying to quiet down the growing hoots and whistles. “I mean, is it really that surprising, guys? I’m definitely not the only one! Okay, jerks, who else has laid with the famed Y/N L/N?”

Immediately, all eleven women in the dorm room have their hands raised. Well, all except Natasha, that is.

“Oh, she’s a free woman!” Valkyrie yells out, pumping her fist, and the crowd of women let out victorious cheers. “Our last standing soldier!”

Natasha smiles awkwardly in the limelight of all these older students, the strangling sensation in her gut growing stronger.

Seriously? ‘The Player’ has already slept with all these pretty girls in her second year? I would never sleep with someone who treats sex so meaninglessly…

Natasha refocuses on the game, dispelling all her thoughts that seemed to constantly circulate around you. In the bleachers, in the hallway, and now in a dorm party…

So why is Y/N L/N a muse in my mind? Why is she so inescapable?

After about six rounds of revealing shameful truths and accepting rather pointless dares, Natasha’s ready to ditch the scene altogether.

She’s barely touched any alcohol, but it was honestly a shame that her imagination was still so lucid. Getting some of that cheap beer into her system would probably help her to relax quicker, and to stop thinking about you.

“Hey, uh,” she whispers to Wanda. The older girl pulls her gaze away from the current life of the party to regard Natasha with a drunken smile.

“What’s up, Nat?” Wanda drawls, sprawling forward a little too close for comfort. Natasha cringes at her beer-tinted breath. Wanda murmurs softly, “Hey, you got a lil somethin’ in your eye. Looks like a little cloud… Oh, that’s just the light. Silly me, silly–”

“Wanda, I’m gonna head back now. Don’t worry about me,” Natasha says, slightly impatiently but affectionate nonetheless, patting Wanda’s head.

“Awh, okay,” Wanda responds drunkenly, breaking off into a little giggle as Natasha gets up. “Hey, Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fall for the player, yeah?” Wanda asks with an innocent smile, but her eyes are reminiscent of a ghost doing its last haunting. Then Wanda’s gone, gone with the wind, her attention lost to the exhilarating game of truth and dare.

There’s a moment of quiet in Natasha’s mind, save for the explicit Nicki Minaj song playing in the background with lyrics that would make a stripper blush.

She had heard that simple statement all too many times. Almost like she was meant to hear it. Like it was a premonition, a foreshadowing.

With the odd feeling of being defenceless, Natasha makes a beeline for the door. She’s had enough of silly conservations and awful thoughts; conversations that encircled around the subject of The Player, and awful thoughts of hers that always ended up being about you.

However, a shining bottle of cheap alcohol catches Natasha’s attention from the makeshift bartending station, essentially a kitchen counter. “Wouldn’t hurt, I guess,” she mutters under her breath, reaching out to grab a bottle for herself.

“Ah, that beer’s shite. The good one’s in the cupboard.”

Embarrassingly startled by the familiar smooth voice that greets her, Natasha jumps in her own skin. You again, she thinks with such indignation. What kind of sheer audacity did you have to approach her, after you were making out with another girl just the other day–

All coherent thoughts left Natasha’s mind when her eyes rake over your short-sleeve compression shirt that clung to your abdomen and arms like a vacuum-sealed package. Paired with grey sweats, it was such a beguiling mixture of taut muscles and casual wear that had Natasha growing hotter under her skin.

“I guess it’s alright for me to assume I’ve chosen the right attire for today,” you say, folding your arms in a little bit of satisfaction. That has Natasha staring at the black tattoos that decorate your thick forearms, and she’s half-crazed by the alluring sight.

Perhaps you’re showing off a little more than you normally would, but the girl standing before you was one that had invaded your mind for days on end, which was entirely uncharacteristic of your constantly horny brain.

“Can I ask you a question?” Natasha asks snarkily, returning your confidence with her very own crossed arms. Your eyes don’t miss the way her awfully kissable lips form the words on her tongue, and you certainly don’t miss the way her crossed arms push up her cleavage.

You lick your lips imperceptibly, and you notice the way Natasha’s eyes follow the movement with a hawk-like gaze. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” you respond easily, taking a single step closer to the object of your desires.

Natasha scoffs at the pet name, but you can see your close proximity subverts her composure in the slightest. Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you reach out to place your hands on her altar-like hips. She bristles under your touch, but she doesn’t move.

“Why’re you so fucking arrogant?” Natasha finally asks, hating how breathless she sounds, struggling to keep cool as your ring-adorned hands thumb the material of her short dress. You’ve got her entrapped between the kitchen counter and your sinfully sculpted body, with no way of escape. (Not like Natasha was looking for one.)

“Brat.” The dry laugh that sounds from your throat has Natasha’s heart pounding, a choked sound of pleasure caught in the back of her throat. Your big hands have moved to her sides, cradling her waist tenderly but withholding power, as if you’re ready to dig your fingertips into her soft skin at any given moment.

She thinks it’s unfair, the way your eyes are damn near psychedelic. They’re screens of mercury, smouldering and smoking with the way it trails over her body. If you’re a spark of fire, Natasha is a pool of gasoline that feeds your will.

Hot lips slant against Natasha’s ear lobe, taking it between your teeth as she shudders. Natasha’s breathy release of air as she fights to keep silent has you tugging on her earlobe with pure want.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, your voice a touch lower than it had been before, your hands tightening its grip on her deadly hips, the metal of your rings cool against her hot skin.

The overwhelming sensation of your big hands, hot lips and sharp teeth is enough to have Natasha’s eyes fluttering shut. She almost loses control of herself, almost lets herself fall victim to your hypnotic touch — But then you pull away, and a desperate little whine nearly falls from Natasha’s lips.

The cheerleader swallows as she stares at your crafted face, your eyes darkened with something far deeper than want, your lips tugged upwards into a devilish smirk.

“My room or yours?”

Natasha would like to say that the rest was a blur, and her alcohol-tainted memories got lost in translation — but it was a shameful and unequivocal statement that she had been entirely sober, and yet recalled every single detail of that night to vivid precision.

***

Natasha remembers you pressing her up against your door, a fervent urgency of lust unlocked within the confines of your dorm.

“So fucking desperate,” you grunt, hips knocking into Natasha’s front as you pin her against the door, lithe legs wrapped around your muscled torso.

“Shut the fuck up,” she spits, throwing her head back as your sharp teeth sink into the softness of her porcelain neck. The edge of your canines are hard and unforgiving, just how Natasha likes it, just how you scatter dark hickeys across her pale skin.

You smirk at her brattiness, finding it an exceptionally arousing trait of hers. “Pretty girl, you’re not the one in charge,” you tease, with your words and with your hands, dragging your fingertips up and under her short dress.

Natasha remembers her fingers twisting into your hair as you play her like a fiddle, teasing and edging and so blatantly talented like a prodigal concertmaster.

She whines as the cool metal of your rings nudges her nipples, her sensitivity skyrocketing with the shock. “More,” she tries to demand, but it ends up sounding like a helpless whimper and your hands move with such purpose.

You don’t help her cause by taking a hardened bud between two fingers and tugging, cries and whimpers following your fingers. Heaven is the way her breasts look all marked up by your mouth, hardened nipples and raw skin dancing in your vision.

Natasha’s nails dig into your hardened abdomen, scraping at your every muscle for all it was worth. It was something about you, something about the look in your eye, something about the way you commandeered her body with such precision and control like it was meant to be.

Natasha remembers her complete relinquishment of power, giving herself up for you, with a sick urge to be fucked within an inch of her life and then some.

Your right hand slides across her damp inner thigh to brush at her demesnes, and the sheer wetness that awaits your fingers makes you growl against her skin. “So fucking wet,” you grunt, peeling apart the thin material of her panties that cling to her sodden pussy with strings of slick.

Natasha wails, face completely flushed and so utterly gorgeous, and you can’t help but meet her lips with clashing tongue and teeth. She moans as your pierced tongue explores her mouth, and you drink up her cries of pleasure.

“Wanna fuck you silly,” you pant against her ear, fingers tracing the outline of her pretty pussy, dragging arousal along with it. Your knee keeps her legs spread nicely apart for the taking, and the vulnerability you bring out of Natasha is perhaps also the hottest thing.

Humiliation is the way Natasha agrees so quickly, nodding dumbly in acquiescence, thinking it would be nice to feel her brain melt to mush with your thick fingers and prodding tongue.

Natasha remembers the earth-shattering pleasure that wracks her body, as you divulge in providing, by leaps and bounds, the best sex she’s ever had.

Three fingers slide in and out of her dripping cunt at a phenomenal pace, and Natasha’s panting like a dog, tight velvet walls clenching around the thickness of your fingers for all it’s worth.

Finger-fucking her against the door like a heaven-descent, you bask in Natasha’s cries of pleasure. It’s never been like this, never been this heated. With Natasha, you felt like you were ascending.

“You’re gonna make a mess on the fucking floor,” you bite, a low gasp caught in the back of your throat. Natasha’s head lolls to the side, high-pitched whimpers making themselves known as she drips down your wrist and her thighs.

Natasha remembers the unravelling, the way her body seizes up out of its own accord, electricity erupting behind her half-lidded eyes.

Your hands dig into the plush of her thighs as you bring Natasha to a stupendous climax. Your fingers curl harshly, hitting her sweet spot and drawing out obscene noises from her.

“Fuck–” Natasha chokes out, high-pitched and breathy and absolutely delightful. Her hips jerk in your hands as your fingers move inside her.

“Another,” you grunt, not a request, and before Natasha can get ahold of her senses your fingers are thrusting again. She wails as your wrist jackhammers into her wet cunt, slick sounds echoing around the four walls of your room.

The second orgasm arrives even more harshly than the first, and Natasha clings onto the broad muscles of your back as you pin her against the door, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut.

She thinks she could find solace in the way your arms entrap her in a certain type of warmth, almost as if you don’t want to let her go.

But that would just be a hopeless fantasy, wouldn’t it?

Natasha remembers waking up the next morning to an empty bed.

The morning air is too cold on her bare skin. Your side of the bed isn’t even warm anymore. You must’ve left ages ago, in the dark of the night, and that thought in itself has Natasha choking on emotions she’d rather not feel.

Her clothes are still strewn on the floor and the furniture is a mess, a mockery of how far she’d let you go last night, driven by an inescapable high.

This is the game you play. Toying with girls' hearts like it was child’s play, making them feel like they were one in a million for one night only. All that alluring charisma was ugly and falsified, viewed through rose-tinted glasses.

This is the game you play, and Natasha Romanoff had fallen victim to it.

Don’t fall for the player.

Now, it was just another warning sign that she’d overlooked, and she was just like those other girls, stumbling into your open arms and cocky smirk.

Vehement fury slugs inside the cheerleader, as she forcefully picks up her strewn clothes.

Then she looks around the dorm room, your room, and time stills for a moment.

She’d expected it to be somewhat furnished, like all other dorm rooms were, maybe a cactus in the corner or a poster of a rockstar. Instead, your walls are blank and there isn’t a trophy or an award in sight.

You’re the captain of the football team, above average in academics, yet there isn’t a trace of the mark you’ve left as a student at Avengers Institution. There isn’t a trace that you’re a living, breathing human, with emotions that craft your very humanity.

Scarily enough, she feels like she’s laid in the bed of a complete stranger.

And suddenly, Natasha understands.

Don’t fall for the player.

Suddenly, everything feels a little too real, and Natasha comprehends that the statement holds far more depth than what your reputation suggested.

You were just fucking scared.

Scared of commitment, scared of growing attached, scared of being abandoned. You feared getting your heart broken, and thus you feared the longevity of relationships that involved love and romance.

As Natasha picks up her strewn clothes from the floor, with aching limbs and dishevelled hair, only one statement rings in her mind.

Don’t fall for the player.

“Maybe I will,” Natasha whispers to the ghost of your handsome, misunderstood self in the room. “But haven’t you heard I always get what I want?”

***

You couldn’t fall asleep.

You watch the empty sky as you sit on the empty rooftop of the school at four in the morning, a cigarette hanging limp between your lips. There’s an underlying anger bubbling beneath your skin, an itch that you can’t find, simply stewing there to your frustration.

Romance was bullshit.

It was plainly obvious from the way girls approached you. Flirty eyes and feather-light touches meant only one thing. And they were all so pretty, so who were you to complain, right?

All those girls always ended up in your dorm bed, sweaty and short of breath. Your heart would pound, and your mind would go wild with endless possibilities of what could happen if they just stayed.

“You can stay if you want,” you muttered off-handedly to one of your first few hookups in college. The look that the girl returned was so unimpressed that you never asked that question again.

But it was okay, because sex was something that you were good at, and those girls had their fun. It was okay, even if there was something missing. It was okay that your reputation preceded your identity. Even if those expectations spiralled far beyond your control.

With every passing girl you brought to bed, the gnawing hole in your chest only grew bigger. You craved something that you couldn’t obtain. Even if your heart was crawling out of its ribcage every time a girl breathed your name, every time she laid a hand on your chest.

Last night, Natasha Romanoff took that gaping hole in your chest and ripped it right open.

“Please, Y/N,” Natasha had whined, and there was reverent devotion in the way you held her hips, in the way you pulled her close.

“Stay,” you had wanted to whisper, so badly, so many times, but her hands were streaking red marks down your back and her body was shuddering under yours.

So you kept your forbidden mouth shut and continued to do what you did best. All the ‘what-ifs’ were just hopeless dreams. You couldn’t stay, you couldn’t commit. You weren’t allowed to, not after the expectations that had been set for you.

Romance was bullshit, after all.

“You seem troubled,” a female voice announces from behind you, but you don’t bother to turn back. Taking your silence as consent, the girl sits next to you.

“Give me a light,” the girl says, leaning closer to you, and only then do you turn to look her over. Blonde girl, 5’8, blue eyes. Freshman.

“Sharon Carter, right?” you ask indifferently, and the girl lets out a bemused huff as she makes her comfortable next to you.

“Wow, so you do know every girl in this school,” Sharon comments, and there’s a teasing lilt in her voice that hints at how this is going to end up.

You pull out a cigarette, passing it over to the blonde girl, noting how her fingertips brush over yours for a second too long. “Maybe I do,” you respond with false cockiness, the smirk overtaking your face almost unconsciously.

This is the right thing to do, you convince yourself, as Sharon’s hand creeps to your thigh. One girl after the other. You couldn’t get attached.

“Impressive. Put away your light. It’s healthier to destress in another way,” Sharon whispers, tossing her cigarette to the rough concrete.

What a waste, you think, but then the same could be said about a lot of other things in your life.

For a fraction of a second, you contemplate your existence. You wonder why you’ve ended up this way. What you’ve done to deserve girls throwing themselves at you when you began to despise all of them.

When Sharon brings her lips closer to yours, and you find yourself meeting her halfway, because you’ve done it so many times.

There’s this tugging of your heart that almost feels like guilt, but you shove it down and drag your tongue between a set of lips. All too easily, your hands draw patterns across her chest and her thighs, a mastered craft that came mechanically.

Even if it is the right thing to do, it doesn’t feel right.

Your head is swimming with unbearable thoughts of Natasha Romanoff, and you try to erase her on the tongue of another girl who could never compare.

It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the easy way out, and it’s what’s expected of you.

Always has been.

***

“Fuck, Y/N—” is the first thing Natasha hears when she meanders into the bathroom the morning after.

She had wanted to get an early start on the new morning, but alas, fate had it out for her.

For a while, Natasha is surprised that she isn’t surprised. You’ve got a pretty blonde girl on the bathroom counter, one hand up her skirt and the other twisted in her hair.

The girl throws her head back in a bout of pleasure, and Natasha’s thinking that maybe she looks a little familiar. It’s her cheekbones, strung high like a haughty prick. “Daddy’s money always gets what you want, hm?” rings in her head.

A spark of fire burns any ounce of indifference Natasha has to ashes. Sharon Fucking Carter.

Sharon’s painted nails were digging into the expanse of your shoulder blades, and it looked downright painful. Your dexterous fingers were plunging into her sodden cunt, rendering her barely coherent.

It all looks so wrong, and Natasha wants to crawl out of her skin before the jealousy eats her alive.

“Fucking hypocrite, aren’t you?” Natasha spits venomously, hands clenched into fists of fury, making her presence known.

When Sharon jumps away from you like she’s been burned, Natasha can’t help but let evil glee surge through her stomach. Serves you right, she thinks, staring at your dishevelled hair that somehow only made you look more handsome.

It’s different, this time, with your eyes darting as if you were unsure of yourself. (Astonishing, considering your mean streak of being cold as ice.) There’s resentment in the way your face sets, and a type of hurt that causes Natasha to falter.

“Daddy’s little bitch,” Sharon scoffs, fixing her skirt with no attempt to hide her disdain. “Why don’t you fuck off, huh?”

Natasha scoffs, eyes widening in fractional aggression. “I-”

“You should go, Carter,” you say monotonously, almost defeated but wavering on the edge of frustration.

The blonde girl whips her head around to stare at you with incredulousness written in her wide eyes. She lets out a dry laugh of betrayal. “Fuck, look at the two of you. Match made in hell.”

The bathroom door slams shut with a piercing thud. Both you and Natasha don’t flinch.

“You didn’t have to call Sharon a hypocrite,” you mumble, flicking your head back to look in the mirror.

There’s something off about you that no one else has ever had the privilege of seeing. It makes Natasha’s heart soar and her blood boil simultaneously.

“She wasn’t the one I was calling a hypocrite.”

A moment passes between the two of you where you flick an invisible switch.

“I’m the hypocrite, Romanoff?” you ask, evidently provoked. A crazed look in your eyes draws Natasha’s attention, because you’re putting on a false facade all over again.

“Am I the hypocrite for fucking another girl? It’s all I do, isn’t it? That’s what I’m known for. You don’t get to be so butthurt because you were just a one-night.”

A sickly sourness lines your mouth as you spew words that aren’t true, because your heart was fighting every battle to get to Natasha Romanoff.

“What you’re failing to realise,” Natasha begins stately. “Is that this isn’t about me. Fuck it if I’m just another girl on your ever-growing fuck list. Because maybe I am. But you’re lying to yourself if you think you’re happy.”

“Oh, so now you’re determining my emotions for me,” you retort with as much snark as you can muster. “You weren’t acting this high and mighty last night in my bed.”

“Quit the act,” Natasha scoffs, then letting a bittersweet smile cross her face. “You’re hiding behind weak retorts because you’re scared. Scared of being alone. But you don’t have to be anymore.”

Lost, your hands twitch, and you allow yourself to believe that maybe Natasha is your salvation. Defense mechanisms kick in, but you know you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Sorry to disappoint, Romanoff, but don’t try to play therapist. I’m not some kind of victim you’re going to diagnose,” you sneer. “I’m free to do whatever the fuck I want without your judgment.”

“Free?” Natasha asks, an incredulous look in her eyes. She laughs in mockery with an unwavering gaze. “You’re not free. You can’t go a day without fucking a girl. You’re a prisoner, and you’re shackled by your own desires and wants. Except this time, that luxury has become an addictive coping mechanism.”

Dark eyes flash with a glimmer of danger, and you’re so much like a trapped animal gone hostile that Natasha’s heart breaks a little.

“You’re wrong,” you answer, but your hands are shaking so violently that you hardly seem like the person she once thought you were.

Where complete equilibrium once was, a desperate frenzy of unease is what exudes from you now. Natasha feels a twinge in her heart when you whisper “You’re wrong,” again, this time substantially more quiet and resigned.

“Prove it, then,” Natasha challenges, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face. Her eyes search yours so desperately, and you’ve stripped naked in front of a hundred girls, but you’ve never felt more vulnerable. “Prove that you’re more than whatever they say about you.”

With the strange urge of tears pricking at your eyes, you stare at Natasha with all the hopelessness any broken heart could muster, and for a moment you can see the doubt in her eyes. Like you’ve disappointed her, just like all the girls who’s hearts you’ve broken.

But when you first kissed Natasha Romanoff, it was never going to be just another one-night, was it?

With the final semblance of humanity in your burden-stricken mortality, you drag a shaky thumb along Natasha’s cheekbones like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, and the deeply-rooted self-loathing inside you fades away, just a little bit.

Your parted lips meet Natasha’s in a prologue to an unfinished symphony. You delve in like she’s your last lifeline, and maybe Natasha is, from the way she rests her fingers on your hips with a gentleness you’ve never experienced.

A carnal urge washes over you, because this time you’re not afraid to admit that you want Natasha Romanoff. You spread your hands, feeling up as much of her as you can, running it down her back then squeezing at her rounded ass—

And then Natasha’s pulling away, and only then do you hear the cluster of footsteps approaching the washroom.

“Tonight,” she whispers with a hint of smirk. Natasha goes on her tippy-toes to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, and then she’s gone.

You stand there with wide eyes, in the washroom where students filter in, lingering with the ghost of Natasha Romanoff’s lips and a piece of your heart melted onto the floor.

***

You were positive you were going to start ripping off your skin if you didn’t start fucking Natasha Romanoff in this exact moment.

But that would be a bad idea, because you were in the middle of a psychology lecture, and Professor Harkness probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

After a torturous hour of you shifting in your seat, you sprint out the lecture hall. Thanking the heavens that it was your last lesson of the day, you dodge and weave through the crowd of students in the hallway.

“Hey, Y/N,” A small group of sophomore girls call out, checking you out like a piece of meat. Normally, their flirtatious winks and little skirts would have you folded in an instant, but you couldn’t wait a moment longer.

You send them a polite smile and continue on your hasteful journey, missing the comical way their faces fall.

Upon your dutiful research, you knew where Natasha’s dorm was located, but you planned to stop by your own dorm to pick up a little something. (Okay, maybe the something wasn’t that little.) You yank open your door with purpose—

Only to find Natasha already sprawled out on your dorm bed, dressed in one of your shirts and nothing else. You almost pass out. Almost.

“Nat,” you groan, locking the door behind you. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not before I come, I’m afraid,” Natasha sighs with a pleased smile. She beckons you over with a come-hither motion, spreading her legs in invitation.

You bite back an affected noise in the back of your throat, pushing Natasha back down on to the bed with fervour. With a crushing sense of urgency, you slide your hand between her pretty thighs, not waiting a single moment.

“Slow down,” Natasha instructs, tilting your head up to stare at her blown pupils. “Take your time. Don’t just fuck me. Do it like you mean it.”

Upon hearing those words, a rush of pride washes over you and then you’re so eager to please, desperate to somehow prove yourself.

Your fingers find the hem of her shirt and tug it over her head, revealing the bare mounds that are Natasha’s tits. A shaky exhale leaves your lips as your fingertips experimentally brush over her hardened buds.

“God, you’re built,” Natasha moans, running her hands over the edges and curves of your muscle. It’s tight and taut under her touch, so defined and carved.

You shudder under her explorative touch, returning your attention back to the beautiful girl in front of you.

You were so used to hot, fast, explosive sex that turning back time was such a jarring awakening of everything that you were missing out on.

It put things into perspective, that you had never actually made love. And since this was your first time, you were determined to do it right, especially for Natasha.

You trail open-mouthed kisses down her sternum and stomach, savouring the taste of her skin. Your hands grasp at her tits, enjoying the feel of it in your hands.

You’re experiencing things you never got to experience, like the rise and fall of Natasha’s pale chest, the way her eyelids flutter gently.

Temporarily avoiding where she needed you most, you hear Natasha let out a whine. You tease her hole with your tongue, smearing her slick messily.

“Fuck,” Natasha curses, winding her fingers into your hair. “Please, I need it,” she whines, as you lick at her clit.

“M’kay, baby,” you mumble against her wet folds, because you could never deny Natasha of anything, could you?

You slide your tongue in her twitching pussy, and begin one of the most passionate love-making sessions

You listen out for when Natasha hitches her breath, when her hips stutter, when she mewls out. You learn the instrument of her body, understand and test out the different reactions you can draw out.

After minutes of what seem like pure bliss with erratic breaths and pleading keening, you speed up and the reaction is immaculate.

“Y/N,” Natasha cries, as your tongue goes in and out of her dripping cunt. Her slick goes down her thighs and your chin, making the most obscene noises.

It’s wet and squelching, and you proceed to devour Natasha’s pussy for everything it’s worth.

For a millisecond, Natasha wonders if anyone has ever died from being eaten out too passionately. Erotic Oral Overdrive, maybe.

Her first orgasm comes in a gradual crescendo, her hips rocking in waves as you dutifully match her unwinding.

Natasha lets her eyes flutter shut as the moment overwhelms her senses. Until the silence is finally broken by you.

“Got a little something for you,” you say with a quirked brow, sliding your hand into the bedside cabinet to retrieve that little something.

“Oh, fuck,” Natasha whines, upon seeing the biggest strap-on toy she’s ever had her eyes upon in her life.

You ease in the cock with no amount of trouble, through Natasha’s already slick cunt. You start with a gentle pace, because you’re trying to be slow.

Apparently, Natasha has different plans this time around.

“Harder,” Natasha growls, digging her nails into your muscled back. You let out a low gasp, because you’re already so deep inside her divine pussy, and you didn’t think you could go any deeper.

Gripping her thighs and spreading it as far apart as you can, you thrust impossibly deeper and your hips slap against Natasha’s.

Her eyes roll back, and she arches off the bed as you continue to thrust and make a nest for yourself inside her.

“Y/N, ungh– please, fuck—” Curled toes wrap around your back as she writhes against the bed.

With the way your cock bulges against her skin, you’re quite sure you could actually split Natasha in half. She’s clawing at your back, calling out your name to the ceiling.

When you pull out, Natasha whines, velvet walls clenching tighter around to keep you deep inside. But then you thrust all the way in again and a scream rings around your dorm room.

You don’t give a flying fuck about the noise level as you pound into Natasha, splitting open her pretty little pussy. “So fucking tight and wet,” you moan into her ear. “All for me, baby?”

It’s fucking possesive, the way you manhandle her to look at her rolled-back eyes and slack jaw.

“Mhm– yes! Oh God, yes, please, Y/N!” Natasha shrieks, clenching so tight you swear you can feel her wet pulse through the huge strap-on.

But it isn’t just any strap-on, and Natasha realises this with a breathy gasp, because it’s a squirting strap-on, and then you’re unloading into her ruined cunt with a deep growl.

Natasha wails, legs in the air, as you pump your seed into her pussy. It’s thick and flows out in pumps, and she milks your cock dry.

“Good girl, Nat,” you breathe, rocking in slow motions so she can recover from her high.

Finally, you collapse on top of Natasha as she lets out a breathy laugh. “What happened to not fucking the same girl twice?”

“You’re infuriating,” you grunt, rolling your hips once in retaliation. You delight the small victory of Natasha whimpering under you.

Natasha rolls her eyes at your impertinence, leaning up to press a small kiss on your forehead. “Infuriating? More like irresistible.”

It’s your turn to laugh, grasping her hips and pulling her impossibly closer. “You’re right,” you whisper truthfully. You think you could stay like this forever.

“Stay if you dare,” Natasha whispers, letting her hand trace over the curvature of your angled face. As you lay above her, you turn your head so that your lips brush against her palm.

Your warm lips are so delicate that Natasha could almost weep, and that’s all the response she needs before breathing a gentle sigh, hence letting sleep drift her consciousness away.

For the first night amongst many, a quiet calm settles in your dorm room ‘til the sun rises again.

***

Don’t fall for the player.

Once upon a time, that used to be a warning, circulating within the hallways of Avengers Institution, whispered under hushed breaths and divine lips.

Tried and true, was the rumour that every single girl in this school would eventually fall victim to The Player’s effortless charisma and unstoppable magnetism.

And this might be true, because whenever you strolled the hallways or scored a touchdown, you were bound to have admirers cheering your name or flirty winks thrown in your way — However, there was a catalyst. A change, if you would.

Boys looked on in jealousy, girls looked on in intrigue. (Or maybe jealousy, too.) What used to be a smooth mouth and wandering hands became a delicate kind of control, saved for only one particular student.

Gone was your blatant charisma and swagger in treating other girls, because now there was only one on your mind — Natasha Romanoff. Be it in on the bleachers, in the hallways, or during dorm parties, never were you seen without the girl who always got what she wanted.

And that included the very subject of the mantra that defined Avengers Institution:

Don’t fall for the player.

so... this was one full month of work. i've never been this dedicated to a singular project. wow. uh, please reblog. it's the only true way of supporting your little creators on this app, so help me out here. thanks for reading. out of curiosity, which part did you like the most?

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

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wandasgf · 7 months

Text

WEST COAST. mdni. 18+.

pairings: older!natasha romanoff + f!maximoff!reader

summary: in which natasha agrees to help with a bake sale and you both stumble into admitting your feelings

warnings: legal age gap (natasha is 43 and reader is 22), pining lesbians, top!natasha, bottom!reader, finger sucking, light dom/sub dynamics, fingering, brief daddy kink

wc: 5.7k

a/n: thank you very much for this request, it gave me brain worms, also this is not proof read so :]

“Come on, Tash, please? Mom said you’d go with me because she’ll be busy with B and T’s school fair.” You practically beg the older woman, holding your cell phone carefully between your cheek and shoulder as you finish mixing up the ingredients for the cupcakes you were baking; it wouldn’t be the first time you dropped it in some cake batter if you weren’t careful. Half of them were for Billy and Tommy’s school fair and the other half were for the bake sale you were helping out with at your university. You had taken it upon yourself to do the baking this year because you knew your mother, Wanda, would be busy with work and getting your younger brothers ready for the fair. They were always very hyper and excitable, it took a lot to round them up. You didn’t really mind though, you did have some extra free time and you always got restless when you truly had nothing to do.

Natasha chuckles on the other end of the phone, “Your mom can say anything she wants, sweetheart. That doesn’t make it true, that just makes her Wanda.” She can practically hear you rolling your eyes as you groan at her response. She’s typing lazily with one hand as the other holds her cellphone, not paying nearly as much attention to her work as she should, especially with the deadlines coming up for this quarter. She can’t help it, though, you rarely call her like this, and when you do she wants to give you as much attention as she possibly can. “Besides, I thought this was something you could handle on your own. You’re a big girl, aren’t you? A little bake sale shouldn’t scare you.”

“Ugh, I’m not scared, you jerk. I just think it would be a little easier if I had someone to help me! And, I want to check out everything else too. I heard the haunted house this year is gonna be amazing! Peter’s working on it with MJ, I just have to go,” you put the phone down on the counter and put it on speaker, not wanting to risk dropping it while you pour the batter into the cupcake tray; that wouldn’t be the first time either. “It won’t be as much fun if I’m by myself, and Kate will be busy trying to make people want to join the archery club. Please? It’ll be so fun, I’ll even give you a cupcake for free.” You try to bargain with her, knowing that she’s always been a fan of your baking since she’s so terrible at it herself.

The bake sale was a part of your university’s fall celebration. Every October, they held a bake sale, a club fair, a haunted house, games and some other things in the week leading up to Halloween. This was your fourth one, and usually, you’d force your friend Kate to help you, but this year she’d agreed to help out with the archery club before you could ask. Not that you minded, because when you brought it up, your mother had absentmindedly suggested that maybe Natasha could help you since she couldn’t, and you would never say no to spending time with the redhead. You don’t know when exactly your schoolgirl crush on your mother’s friend turned into the very real thing it was now. You wouldn’t even say it was a crush because at this point you were certain you were damn near in love with the older woman, but you knew it was something you could never have. So, even as you and Natasha grew closer as you grew older, becoming something akin to friends now that you’ve reached your early twenties, all you could do was cherish the time you got together.

You can hear Natasha sigh before she responds, “Fine, but you better make it two or I’m leaving before you get to that haunted house.” You’re about to thank her profusely before she speaks again, effectively cutting you off before you even started, “Now, listen, I’d love to stay on the phone with you, but if I’m gonna take the day off tomorrow, I’ve got some work to finish. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

You both bid each other goodbye and once you hang up the phone, you smile giddily. Natasha was going to take the day off tomorrow for you. Natasha, who was always busy with work, was going to take the day off so she could help you with your silly fall bake sale. “Oh my God… Oh my God!” You feel like a teenage girl with a crush again, getting so excited over something so simple, but you just can’t help it because you know if anyone else had asked, Natasha would have said no. You check the time to make sure none of your family members would be home soon before you call Kate. You just have to tell her about this. You have to get out all your nervous excitement and giddiness before you see Natasha tomorrow, you’ve always been afraid she could see right through you and your feelings. You didn’t need to be more obvious than usual tomorrow.

And, yeah, you do make two cupcakes specially for Natasha with red icing because you know it’s her favorite color even though the rest of the icing is orange and black.

Tomorrow comes quicker than both you and Natasha would like. You, because you still don’t know what to wear, and honestly, you’re a little worried Kate might come by and say something stupid. She’s always telling you to just put it out there and let Natasha know how you feel, but you can name at least a thousand reasons why that is the worst idea she’s ever had. Not including when she broke the church’s bell tower by accident when she was a freshman. First and foremost being that Natasha is your mother’s best friend, Natasha is twice your age, and ruining the little platonic relationship that you have with Natasha would hurt you more than when Karolina Dean moved away in the seventh grade when the two of you had what you would now call some sort of situationship.

And Natasha, because she doesn’t really know why she agreed to do this at all. She really does have work she needs to get done and there’s truly no reason she couldn’t have told you to ask one of your university friends to help you, she knows Kate isn’t your only friend, far from it. Well, the first part of that is a lie– she does know why. She knows exactly why she agreed to help you, she agreed because you asked. What she doesn’t know is what she’s going to do around you today with no one as buffer. No Wanda, no Billy, no Tommy, not even her sister Yelena, it’s just you and her. Sure, there would be other students on campus and coming up to the bake sale table, but in her mind, it’s still just you and her. She doesn’t like when it’s just you and her, because when it is everything feels too real. Suddenly, when it’s just the two of you, there’s no reason for her to hold back. And she knows she needs to hold back, she has to because there’s no world in which you would ever be allowed to be hers.

You’re holding up different sweaters in the mirror, trying to figure out which looks better with the particular shade of denim you’re wearing, when you hear a knock on your door and your mother walks in. “What’s up?” You turn your head to look at her before turning back to the mirror, still trying to decide. “The one with the brown in it,” she hums, walking over to sit on your bed. She’d always been able to tell just what you were thinking even if you didn’t ask. “You’re overthinking this sweater a lot. Are you sure it’s just Natasha that’s going to be with you today?” You weren’t prepared for her question and your eyes widen just the slightest and you hope she doesn’t notice. “Yeah, just Natasha. Kate’s doing her archery thing, and I think America is helping MJ and Peter with the haunted house.”

“Okay… Well, if there was someone, you know it’s okay for you to tell me, right?”

“Mom!” You groan, she seriously cannot be doing this right now. You’re a grown woman, for god’s sake… but you do appreciate how much she cares for you, you just can’t tell her. Ever.

“Alright, alright! I just wanted you to know. The boys and I are going to be leaving in a few minutes. You should come say goodbye to them, I think they’re going to stay at your father’s tonight...”

You make a noise of agreement, nodding. You know there was a ‘but’ that she wanted to say, but you both knew what it was without her saying it out loud. They were supposed to stay with Vision last weekend too, but that never happened. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

Wanda squeezes your shoulder as she walks past you, and you wait until she’s shut the door before you let your head fall back slightly, staring up at the ceiling. You can’t help but think she’s known for a while, and you feel slightly nauseous at the fact. If she knows, maybe Natasha does too, and that just can’t happen.

Natasha arrives a few minutes after Wanda and the boys leave, opting to pull into the driveway when she sees the lack of her friend’s minivan in it. She told you she’d pick you up because it made no sense to take two cars and she had to pass your house to get to the university anyway. She takes two seconds before she turns the car off and gets out. She’s too old to be acting like an insecure teenager, she can do this. She’s dressed for the occasion, wanting to fit into the fall theme, wearing a nice knit sweater and a casual pair of pants.

Her heart squeezes when you open the door and you’re wearing your own knit sweater, she forgot how cute you looked during the fall. “Tasha! I’ll just be a few minutes, I have to get everything packed up and put my shoes on, but then we can go. Come in!” You’re out of her sight as quick as you stepped into it, wanting to get everything done as quickly as possible. You didn’t want to make her wait.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t make me stand out here the whole time.” Natasha steps inside, wiping any dirt off of the bottom of her boots on the doormat. She’d take them off, but there’s no point if you’ll just be leaving in a few minutes, anyway. Sue her. “Where are those cupcakes I was promised?”

“They’re on the counter, the red ones.” You call out from the kitchen, you weren’t expecting her so early or maybe you’d lost track of time after you said your goodbyes to everyone earlier. It’s a comfortable silence as you move around the room, packing everything up while Natasha eats her cupcakes, offering to help you every few minutes, but you just wave her off. She wouldn’t usually let you do that, but she was enjoying the food, so she’d settle for not letting you bring anything out to the car, she’d do that herself.

“Okay, done!” You say, proud of how quickly you’d gotten everything done, and turn to look at Natasha only to find her already looking at you. You feel heat rush to your cheeks and you avert your gaze quickly. “I can see that. You put your shoes on and I’ll bring everything out to the car.” She doesn’t phrase it as a question, but you open your mouth to object anyway, only to be interrupted before you can speak, “It’ll be faster this way, won’t it? Go put your shoes on, cupcake.”

The name leaves you grumbling as you huff and walk out of the kitchen, knowing she’s right. Natasha only chuckles before she starts bringing everything out to her car, making sure that nothing is going to accidentally get squished or have their containers tipped over. Once everything is settled, she grabs the latte from the cupholder in the front seat and meets you at your front door as you’re locking it, “This is for you because I know you spent way too long in the kitchen last night.”

“Non-dairy?”

“Of course.”

“Then thank you.” You take the cup from her, your breath hitching when your fingers brush and bring it up to your lips to take a drink. “Oh my God, this is good.”

“I figured you’d like it. Now, come on, weren’t you the one who said we needed to get there early?”

The car ride passes comfortably, with the occasional small talk, but mostly the radio playing quietly in the background while you sip on your latte and Natasha taps against the steering wheel in time with the song. You find that you don’t need to talk to enjoy your time with her, just being with her is enough. Feeling her presence around you is enough for you to feel relaxed and get that warm feeling that only Natasha can give you. When you arrive and Natasha finds somewhere to park, you take a quick scan of the quad. Thankfully, she was able to find close parking, which is a miracle, really. Your eyes light up when you spot Professor Potts standing near an empty table which you can now only assume is for the bake sale.

“I’ll be right back, I just have to go talk to Professor Potts for a second.” You point behind you with your thumb and then turn to leave. You only take two steps before you’re turning your head to look at Natasha again, “But, actually, since I know you won’t let me help, you can start bringing everything over to the table. I’ll be right next to it.”

Natasha laughs a little under her breath at how quickly you went from ‘you’re not carrying everything yourself, Tasha’ in the car to ‘actually, you do everything’ now that you were actually here. “Yes, Ma’am.” She teases, and you roll your eyes at her before starting to walk over.

It doesn’t actually take long for Natasha to bring everything over to the table, and by the time she’s done, you’re wrapping up your conversation with Professor Potts– Pepper, as you usually call her. You were just double checking the details of the bake sale and what the prices were supposed to be before you properly set everything up, but you didn’t think Natasha would be particularly interested in that conversation, so you figured she’d be happy enough to bring everything over while you talked. “Oh! Pepper, this is Natasha. Natasha, this is Pepper. She’s one of the professors who helps run the student societies!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Natasha. I didn’t realize Y/N was bringing her partner today.” Pepper smiles and holds her hand out for Natasha to shake.

“Oh, she’s n–”

“It’s nice to meet you as well. It was a bit of a last minute thing, something about Kate and archery, but I’m sure it’ll be fun.” Natasha shakes Pepper’s hand, mirroring the other woman’s smile.

“Speaking of Kate and archery, I’m sure you two can manage this just fine on your own, because I have to go find her and make sure that her ‘advertising’ of the archery club doesn’t include any actual arrows this time.” Pepper sighs, and Natasha just laughs like she knows exactly what it’s like to deal with Kate’s antics, before Pepper walks off.

You stare at Natasha wordlessly for a couple of seconds, thinking maybe she’s going to say something about the fact that she just implied the two of you are together, but instead she just raises an eyebrow at you. “Are you going to tell me how you want this table set up or am I just supposed to guess?”

“Oh– no, yeah, I’ll help.” Your cheeks heat up as you start telling her where you want everything placed and start to write the prices on the little chalkboard easel Pepper had put on the table. You quickly forget all about the incident as you start setting things up and your friends stop by the table to talk before going to tend to their own responsibilities. You don’t really pick up on the way they all point out Natasha’s presence, meaning to tease you, but you just tell them happily that she’d agreed to help because Kate couldn’t.

The rest of the bake sale goes on like this until you run out of things to sell, some people making comments about how good of a pair you and Natasha made or saying something about how they didn’t realize you’d have someone with you here today. You seemed to ignore it, not saying anything about it or giving any indication that it made you uncomfortable, but Natasha was quick to pick up on what the implications were. It didn’t help, she realized, that the color palettes the two of you chose to wear complimented each other so well that it looked a little like your outfits were matching.

The way in which you acted as if these comments were normal and that you might have expected them or even welcomed them makes Natasha’s brain go haywire. She can’t help but think of all the things this could possibly mean, but the final thought her brain lands on is that she can’t help but wonder if it would be wrong of her to bask in this for just a little bit. She had already not corrected Pepper when she implied you were together– though, that was more so because she didn’t want to embarrass either of you. So would it be so wrong for her to lean into that? To let everyone think you were a couple? To treat you like you were her’s for just a little bit? She doesn’t think so.

You’re in almost a daze as the rest of the day goes by. Natasha takes you to the haunted house like you wanted and holds your hand the whole time so you don’t get too scared. If you had known Yelena was helping inside the house, you might not have wanted to go so bad. She’s still holding your hand when you exit the haunted house, and she continues to hold it when you talk to Peter and MJ when you spot them outside. She lets go when she gets a phone call and gives you an apologetic smile and excuses herself, but not before giving your hand a little squeeze, and you feel your heart leap in your chest. All of this feels too natural, being with Natasha like this. Holding her hand, laughing with her, walking with her. It’s now when you realize just how close you and Natasha have been all day and you stumble in the middle of your sentence while talking to MJ.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah!” It comes out too loud and too quickly, “yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired, you know. Long day and late night last night baking.”

“Mm… Nothing to do with your woman over there?” MJ points not so subtly over at where Natasha is currently talking on the phone.

Your eyes go wide, “She’s not– she’s not my woman, MJ!”

“You’ve been holding hands this whole time and she’s… here instead of at work,” she gives you a look like she doesn’t believe you at all, “seems like your woman to me.”

“Yeah! Mr. Stark only ever takes time away from work if Ms. Potts asks him to and you know how they are, Y/N.” Peter chimes in.

You feel your face go red hot and you groan, “can we please stop talking about this right now?”

“Stop talking about what?” You jump when Natasha suddenly appears beside you and wraps her arm around your waist.

“Oh, we were just talking about how scared Y/N got in the haunted house.” MJ lies smoothly before giving you a look.

“Yes, but now we’re done talking about that and we should get back to our table to clean up properly.” You change the subject, trying not to focus on Natasha’s arm wrapped around you, but it’s lighting your body on fire and it’s very hard to focus on anything else. She squeezes your side softly and nods, “sure. It was nice talking to you, MJ, Peter. Good job on the haunted house.”

You barely let Peter get out a “Thanks, Ms. Romanoff!” before you’re slipping out of Natasha’s hold to grab her hand and practically dragging her away from them. She heard the conversation starting from you stuttering over the implication that you’re together, but for you, she can pretend she didn’t hear a thing. So, instead of bringing it up, she gives your hand a soft squeeze. “It’s okay that you were scared, you know? You don’t need to be embarrassed, Yelena can be pretty terrifying when you actually get a look at her.”

“Tasha!” You scold, swatting at her shoulder, “don’t be mean to your sister,” but you can’t help but giggle just a little bit. She only chuckles, and despite the way you’re both struggling to decide whether to bring your feelings up or not, you settle into the comfortable existence you share with each other.

Before you know it, you’re in Natasha’s car again and on your way to her house. She said she just had a couple of things to do in her home office before she would take you home again, but she would try to be as quick as possible. Technically speaking, your mother should be done with Billy and Tommy’s school fair and you could just ask her to come pick you up, but you don’t tell Natasha that. You would much rather get to spend some extra time with the older woman (and you love the way her house smells) than go home and inevitably spiral as you think about the day and everything that’s happened with her before calling Kate and spilling everything.

When you get there, she tells you to make yourself comfortable and help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you want to before she disappears into her office at the end of the hall. You settle down on her couch and scroll through your phone for a few minutes before you start to get bored. You consider the fact that Natasha is working on her day off and think that maybe she’d appreciate a coffee, especially if she didn’t have to make it herself, so you stand up and wander into the kitchen. It’s nice and modern, but it has a few personal touches that make it distinctly Natasha. You notice that the coffee maker is right on top of the counter and you look in the cupboard for a mug before you get started on making her coffee.

You’re pretty sure that the only thing Natasha likes in her coffee is a little bit of sugar, so you take a little look around the pantry until you find some, and when the coffee is ready, you pour it into the mug before adding a little sugar. You hum to yourself and make sure you haven’t spilled anything on the counter, picking up the mug and then starting the path to Natasha’s office. This all feels so natural, that the usual nervousness of doing something like this for the older woman doesn’t even creep in until you actually see her.

You knock on the door, waiting a second before opening it with your free hand. “Tasha?” You push the door open and Natasha looks up from the paperwork on her desk to greet you with a smile. “You get bored out there, sweetheart?” She puts her glasses up on the top of her head and turns to look at you properly.

“I. um, made you coffee. I figured you might want some since you weren’t expecting to have to work today.” You walk towards her desk and when you’re close enough, she takes the mug from you and leans up to press a soft kiss to your lips as a sign of her gratitude, “thank you, sweetheart.”

Your brain short circuits.

She almost drops the mug onto the floor.

You just look at her, frozen, for a few seconds as you watch the wheels turning in her head. She puts the mug down on the desk carefully as she tries to figure out what exactly she’s going to say now. She hadn’t even really thought about it before it happened, it just felt so natural and like something she’s supposed to and allowed to do. But in reality, kissing you has never been any of those things. She’s never done that before even that one time you got so drunk, you practically begged her to. She’s been very careful with her actions and with restraining herself, but now? What does she do now?

“Natasha...” Your voice comes out almost like a whisper and for some reason, you’re a little afraid that she’ll tell you to leave. That she had just been caught in the moment and she would never knowingly kiss you under any other circumstance.

Natasha opens her mouth to speak, but then she gets a proper look at you standing nervously in front of her and she mutters a ‘fuck it’ under her breath. “Come here, baby.” She pushes her desk chair out slightly and guides you into her lap without any kind of resistance from you. You fidget in her lap, not used to this kind of proximity with the older woman. “I’m gonna kiss you again, alright?”

With those words, it’s like a switch flips and you surge forward to crash your lips against hers. She lets out a little surprised noise before she kisses you back properly, moving her lips against yours and resting her hands on your hips. She lets you lead for a bit until you get a bit too bold for her liking and she grips your hips harder as a warning. She was in charge, not you, and she was going to make that very clear.

Almost immediately she’s dominating the kiss, and you tangle your fingers in her hair. Her glasses fall off somewhere behind her, but neither of you really care enough to check where. You only pull away because you need to breathe, and when you do, your chest is heaving and you’re a little dazed. Natasha coos and reaches up to cup your cheek, rubbing her thumb against your soft skin. “Do you need a little break, sweetheart, hm? You look a bit flustered.” She teases before swiping her thumb across your bottom lip, and you grumble slightly, “I’m not–”

Natasha pushes her thumb into your mouth and presses down on your tongue before you can finish, “ah, ah, don’t talk back to me, Y/N,” she scolds, and you whine quietly. You want to bite down on her thumb in retaliation for the use of your actual name, but you know that will only make things worse for you. Not that things are particularly bad right now, you’d probably take anything Natasha gave you, but you’d prefer her cooing over you and doting on you at the moment.

Instead, you suck softly on her thumb and you know it’s the right decision when she hums in approval. It was almost too easy for the two of you to fall into this rhythm, like you were meant for each other. You both knew exactly what the other wanted and you’d do anything to please her while she’d do anything to keep you happy. Her other hand squeezes softly at your hip before it begins playing with the waistband of your jeans. “We’ve had a long day, huh? You did so well at the bake sale, you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

You nod, looking at her pleadingly and whining softly. Your clothes feel too warm and you want her to touch you, and she’s wearing too many clothes, and you want to touch her, but her thumb is in your mouth and you can’t just push her away. So, you opt for looking like a kicked puppy until she understands what you want.

“What is it, hm?” Natasha pulls her thumb out of your mouth and you chase after it slightly until you realize that maybe she wants you to actually tell her and you open your mouth to speak. Your breath catches in your throat, though, when her other hand trails down and cups your clothed cunt. “Do you want me to touch you, is that it?”

“Tasha, please.” You whimper. You can barely feel anything through your jeans and it’s already driving you crazy. You just hope she’s not the type to tease.

“Alright, alright, arms up.” Natasha chuckles and waits for you to follow her instruction before slipping your sweater off over your head. Her eyes darken as she takes in your bra clad chest and she greedily gropes at your breasts for a moment. “So pretty,” she mumbles, leaning in to kiss softly at your neck.

You moan softly and you clutch at her sweater. Natasha’s hands on you feel better than you ever could have imagined, and you’ve spent more time than you care to admit imagining this. She’s not too rough, but she’s not too soft either. She touches you with the perfect amount of force and it makes your head spin.

Her hands trail down your chest and then your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake, before her fingertips dance across the waistband of your jeans. “You looked so cute today in your little fall outfit. Do you know how hard it was for me to keep my hands to myself?” Natasha pulls back, her skilled fingers now moving to unbutton your jeans. “You make things so hard for me, sweetheart. It’s like you’re trying to torture me.”

“I just like to look nice for you, Tasha. Is that wrong?”

“Up.” She taps your thigh, and you stand so that she can tug your jeans down for you to step out of. Normally, you’d be a lot more shy about undressing like this for the first time, but right now you just can’t seem to care.

Natasha pulls you back down into her lap and then pulls you in for a kiss. Her hands find purchase on your hips and her tongue finds its way into your mouth, easily gaining dominance over you. You moan into her mouth as your fingers tangle in her hair again, trying to pull her impossibly closer.

And then finally, after what seems like forever, she slips one hand inside your panties. The gasp you let out when her middle finger ghosts over your slit is like music to her ears, and she pulls away from the kiss so she can see your reactions properly.

“No teasing, Tasha, please.” You whine, your hands dropping to her shoulders. “Shh, I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.” She slowly begins rubbing circles against your clit and you’re all whimpers and whines as she does.

She takes her time, using her other hand to tug the cups of your bra under your breasts so she can play with your nipples, pinching them and rolling them between her fingers all while keeping the same steady pace in slow circles around your clit. She basks in the noises she’s able to pull from you even with the lightest of touches. She considers taking you to her bedroom so she can fuck you properly, but she think she wants ot save that for another day. This will have to do for now.

“Inside, please, Tasha.” You whimper pathetically, hands bunched up in her sweater as you try to be good like she wants you to. She takes pity on you when she pushes two fingers into your drooling hole. She curses under her breath, “God, you’re so wet, sweetheart. Is this all for me, huh?”

You nod, desperately wanting her to move her fingers. “All for you, Tasha.” You attempt to bounce up and down on her fingers, but her free hand moves down and holds you still. “Please, I can’t– mph!” You interrupt your own begging when Natasha begins thrusting her fingers in and out, the angle forcing the heel of her palm to press against your clit. You bite down on your bottom lip to stifle your moans, embarrassed about how loud you’re being already.

“That’s it, baby.” Natasha breathes, taking in the sight in front of her with eager eyes, “You take my fingers so well, sweetheart.” She praises, curling her fingers inside of you. You reward her with a particularly high pitched moan and you just barely notice the pink tint of her cheeks. It seems she's enjoying this just as much as you are. Something about having you like this drives Natasha wild. Being able to hear your moans and see the expression on your face makes her almost lightheaded with desire.

“Oh God, Natasha.” You moan loudly when she grinds the heel of her palm against your clit and presses against the sensitive spot inside you at the same time. Natasha coos, and it doesn’t take long with her fucking you like that for you to get close to the edge. “Tash– I’m gonna– Please–” You beg, pleading for something you’re not even sure of.

“Shh, I’ve got you, sweetheart. Be a good girl for Daddy.”

Natasha’s words tip you over the edge with the help of her skilled fingers and she guides you through your orgasm, letting you ride it out before pulling out her fingers and bringing them up to her mouth.

“Fuck, I don’t know if I’m done with you just yet. I might have to take you to bed instead of taking you to dinner.”

#alice's fics !#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanov x reader

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romanoffsbish · 9 months

Text

Hear Me Out

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Natasha develops a bit of a crush on Shield’s interpreter, and it just so happens that her best friend, Clint, has an in with the woman for her….

A/N: I actually minored in Deaf Studies in college, and that little end bit with Natasha is based on an actual mistake I made in my class lmao.

Cheese / Movie | Sorry / Please | Bad / Bitch

W/C: 3,788

"Why am I here again?" Clint grumbled as he sidled himself up to Natasha as she stood just off stage. "Because, Steve is off on a mission and there's no way I was doing this alone."

Clint rolled his eyes as he saw his best friends smirk grow while watching the stage, she was taunting him for being so easy to manipulate.

"Next time you call, I'm sending you straight to voicemail." Natasha shrugged, "I'll call Laura."

Clint was about to rebut her threat, but then he was caught off guard by seeing you on stage.

"Why's Y/N here?"

Natasha followed his gaze to your face, and her heart momentarily stopped. Y/N... Now she knew your name, and yet it wasn't enough.

——

It had been months since she first noticed you, she was instantly drawn to your beauty, but due to the nature of your connected jobs she felt it would be unprofessional to approach. With every passing event though she felt as her resolve was steadily crumbling, especially since you flashed her a gorgeous smile in passing at the last one. She damn near swooped you then.

"You know her?"

Clint smiled, "She's my Shield appointed interpreter, she bridges the gap between me and others in my situation while also teaching the family and I ASL." His smile dropped into a frown the more he thought about the situation. "Does she do every Avengers press release?"

"Mostly," Natasha replied with understanding in her tone. "Leave it to Fury to double dip."

"Now I feel bad that she spends every Monday to Wednesday with me." Natasha interrupted, "Oh wow, poor girl." Clint shoulder bumped her then went on, "Then she's at the farm every other weekend." Natasha frowned, in part because she didn't know if you could be trusted, but also, because she was jealous.

"Don't worry, I vetted her myself, she's clean."

Natasha's shoulders lost their tenseness, but she still kept a scowl as she realized she had always had an in with you. But since Clint was primarily retired she'd been left out of the loop with just how often she'd been on missions.

"She's single," he teased, Natasha could never hide her feelings from him. "That's cool," but she would be damned if she wouldn't try.

He sighed, ready to give her a little pep talk, but then the crowd roared with applause and he saw you were carefully descending the stage.

"Y/N!" Natasha glared at him, but fortunately you didn't catch it as you happily trotted over. You smiled, but only waved in greeting.

"I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Nat."

"Natasha," the redhead cooly corrected.

You titled your head, and furrowed your brows. Natasha watched in amusement when Clint knowingly huffed as he watched you. With your pointer finger you tapped your chest, then rose it to flick at the sky while shaking your head.

You understood him just fine...

Clint rolled his eyes, then did his very best to sign his introduction once more. Your eyes lit up at his improvements, and Natasha watched the older mans eyes also beaming with pride. She was certain she needed to know you now, because the old man was as a certified grump, but you still managed to make him smile.

"I'm Y/N," you finally spoke, and the redhead nearly fell to her knees at your voice. You had extended your hand out in greeting, but she was too enamored by you as a whole. So, you awkwardly cleared your throat while going to pull it away but she latched on just in time.

"Natasha," she finally offered her name, even though you knew it from not only Clint's intro, but also because you worked for her boss.

"I know," you giggled, and allowed her to keep holding onto your hand well beyond the shake. "You're kind of who I was defending on stage."

The redhead blushed and Clint was speechless.

"Right," she chuckled, and felt her entire body warm from embarrassment. Then, you gently squeezed her hand and she realized she had yet to let it go. Which only made her feel hotter.

The redhead dropped it, and if she wasn't so mortified by her horrible game she'd have seen the way you momentarily frowned at the loss.

"It's lovely to finally meet you Natasha, Clinton here has told me so much about you." You ratted the old man out for his gossiping. Nat narrowed her eyes at the man, curious on his intentions to have ever mentioned her to you.

"Don't worry, it's nothing too bad," you teased her and she met your eyes to see the honesty. "I'd stick around and get to know you myself, but unfortunately I have to meet with Fury, and sign yet another NDA since agents can't seem to keep their mouths shut around me."

"I'm sure Fury can wait," Natasha blurted, and that shocked all three of you. Clint smirked, Natasha's gaze fell to the ground, and you couldn't stop smiling thinking about how she wanted you to stay. The hand holding, and blush were not enough to convince you that the attraction was mutual, but now, you grew sure.

"He very well could," you theorized playfully, and the redhead looked to you with a smile. "But we all know that it's a bad idea to keep the director waiting. Then he'd be faced with the realization that his busy schedule is a facade."

The best friend duo laughed, both innately aware of the truth in your words. Fury spent his days doing a whole lot of nothing while the rest of them actually did the bulk of it all.

"I'm sure I'll see you around," you spoke again, the hopeful tone not being missed by them. Natasha nodded, about to reply, then her voice stalled in her throat as your finger grazed on over her warm cheek to collect an eyelash.

"Make a wish," you'd commanded playfully, and the redhead didn't question your childish behavior. She simply closed her eyes, wished for you, then blew the curl off your fingertip.

"What did you wish for?" Clint asked, and you watched the woman grow tense. "She can't say Clint, or else it won't come true." Natasha's eyes flitted back to you, and her body calmed. "Exactly, if you knew what's best for you, you would listen to the pretty woman Barton."

You gasped at her words, and nearly lost all of your composure, making Natasha slyly smirk.

"I'll see you this weekend," you'd signed to Clint, then left with a nervous smile and wave.

"Don't even," Natasha threatened through gritted teeth, and Clint laughed wildly. "Oh, Laura is going to be so ecstatic at the news."

Natasha left the man in the dust, literally, she drove off in her Corvette just as he made it and left him without a way back to the compound. Nevertheless, he continued to smile over the interaction as he walked back. He got into his car and left towards home, not even saying goodbye to the dramatic, fuming redhead.

He knew that he would be seeing her soon...

—

"Y/N!" You caught the little girl with ease as she ran down the familiar steps of her home. Lila began to ramble incessantly about her week, knowing the rules of silence affected her just as soon as the door was closed behind you.

You always took your time with entering just for her sake. The rules were important, it was the only real way any of them would adapt to the changes that came with Clint's steadily declining hearing. Immersive practices were truly the best when learning a new language.

"Ooh, and Nate got in so much trouble yesterday, because he flushed my dolls head down the toilet. Dad was so mad! Oh, and..."

Just as you went to open the creaky door you heard the slamming of a metal one behind you. Before you could even turn to inspect who it could be you got your answer as the little girl shimmied out of your arms and shrieked.

"Auntie Nat!"

Your entire body warmed when you turned to see her catch the girl just the same as you did. It was a bit soon to picture it, but you couldn't stop your mind from wandering off to thoughts of her maybe one day catching your own kids.

Neither of you had even confessed your crush's and here you were seeing wedding bells; always doomed to be the hopeless romantic it seems.

Little did you know Natasha felt the same way when she watched you with Lila from her car. For a brief moment she was jealous that the little girl looked so happy with you, that was her precious Lila-Bear after all, but then her heart skipped in realization that you'd already won all of the people that mattered over.

Except for Yelena, but she'd likely save that encounter for years down the line if she could. The last thing she needed was for the blonde to run you off before she ever got a real chance.

Turns out you already knew Wanda too, her other bestie, you'd been there for her after a bombing led her to a hearing scare. When Nat mentioned you last night the witch squealed, and begged her not to fuck this opportunity up.

Natasha had scoffed, acting nonchalantly about the possibility of a future, but her heart racing was a sign to the witch that she wanted it bad.

Once the redhead was stood before you it was like your mind was catching up to the moment. Natasha's hand fell to your shoulder, and offered you a bright smile. "We meet again."

"It's almost as if you planned this," you teased and she glared defensively. "It was my weekend off, it is only a coincidence that you're here."

"Oh," you chuckled awkwardly, completely thrown by the sudden change in demeanor. "Well, I'll make sure I stay out of your way."

Natasha internally slapped herself, she had no reason to be upset, but she was embarrassed by your ability to understand why she was here.

"You're bad at this Auntie Nat," Lila noted, then dropped down to follow you back inside.

"Y/N, wait." Natasha tried, but she was met instead with Nate glaring up at her with his tiny finger to his lips. He was shushing her.

Next to greet her was Laura, who pulled her in for a hug and whispered, "Welcome to the dome of silence, you can undo your blunder later—start by not being so defensive."

Natasha rubbed her eyes, and cursed under her breath in her mother tongue, only to be shushed once again by a smirking Clint.

Before she could retaliate (pummel the man) you'd flipped the power off, then on a few times to signal to the Barton's that it was time for congregating in silence. Natasha followed, and took a seat in the far off corner to observe the ways in which you taught the lot of them ASL.

It was amusing from the very start, she could see just why the wary kids loved you so much. The language was something you held respect for in your soul, but you also knew kids needed fun to focus. So, you almost found a way to make it a game of charades when the topics allowed you to. Clint and Laura worked out of a workbook for the most part, it was more like you were a tutor that sidelined as a babysitter.

Natasha watched your face, and how you were emoting so clearly. Every sign came with an expression, something you wouldn't see much of in spoken languages as inflection worked wonders to let others know your moods. In this instance she realized it was you setting a tone.

Today you were teaching them a handful of new words, and using clear feelings to do so.

You'd started with— "I feel," and signed cold, which you dramatized as you wrapped a scarf around your neck before lifting your bent arms in front of you, and shivered. Even Natasha had figured the word out, but that wasn't the answer, because as you saw the kids sign "I understand," you went on to sign "Why?"

Lila giddily raised her hand, body squirming in her seat as she quickly finger-spelled S-N-O-W.

You smiled wide, and signed good before you took your hands and imitated snow fall, your fingers fluttered as you swayed your hands down, then you pointed to your pointer finger, and the kids knew you wanted another word.

Cooper finger-spelled R-A-I-N, and you pursed your lips. Your hand took the shape of a Y, then moved from side to side, then your brow raised as your pointer fingers gently touched before separating fast. A quick way to say they were similar signs, but different in the same breath. Then you signed it and urged them for more.

Natasha already knew the alphabet, and with her spy training she missed nothing so she actually followed along rather easily with you. The widow quite enjoyed learning along with the kids, the words were relatively meaningless to her, but every word was necessary to life.

What really caught her attention was the little boy who'd shushed her earlier using his voice.

Nate was too young to engage in your playful immersive ways like the other two as he hadn't known how to spell yet. So you'd offer him photos after his siblings would spell out their guesses, and he would always get to shout the correct answer to you. To which you'd nod, wink at the older kids, then remind him to keep his lips zipped after as he hung off your back.

Nate snickered when your eyes bulged as you pulled the invisible zipper across your face. His imagination allowed him to believe that your lips were to some extent being zipped shut.

When you moved on to let the kids get ready for bed, you'd focused in on the parental unit.

Natasha gratefully caught your attention just before you settled into a conversation. Your face was rather solemn, and she cringed at the lack of your usual smile—she'd already grown obsessed with the simple gesture of yours.

She offered you a simple smile, and signed I'm sorry, or at least she thought she did, but really she said please and you took it as an apology. You'd merely winked and threw a thumbs up, your version of a rushed "it's okay," before you shifted to face an impatient (eager) Laura.

You were never actually offended by her earlier outburst, you actually found it quite funny.

Laura signed the lesson with you as if she had already known the material before you ever arrived. Part of you thinks she had the book and read ahead to show off, but the other part of you knew just by a glance she was brilliant.

Once you felt satisfied you nodded at her, and she traipsed off upstairs to help the kids finish up their bedtime routines. Then came your time with the struggling Archer, whom of which was the reason for these sorts of visits.

This is when Natasha's attention fell to her phone, you were no longer being silly, and truth be told she felt she needed to do some studying of her own to win your heart over.

Clint held up to your challenges, he signed with a sort of choppy elegance that matched him. Sometimes his signs would be angled wrong, and you would freeze the moment to remind him that sometimes a mistake like that could get him a black eye. For instance, bitch and bad were not too similar, but if you blinked it could be misconstrued, and somehow Clint found a way to confuse them often enough for you to need warn him. Not that he, an actual Avenger, had too much to worry much about.

Any Deaf person would be able to understand his flukes, but you feared he'd still get a stern scolding from the wrong person in a crowd.

Something you knew he'd take with a scowl.

After a half hour with the grumpy man you'd told him he was free to go. He literally jumped up, and lifted you into a grateful embrace as he spoke in a huff, "Fucking finally, I am tired."

"Language!" Laura and Natasha parroted Steve's infamous, inside joke, it spread around Shield so much that even you understood it.

The freshly cleaned up kids all ran into your body in some capacity, Lila smashed her chin into your stomach and pouted up at you. "Don't go?" You ruffled the little girls damp hair and smiled sadly at her. "I'll be back Lila, you guys won't even have a chance to miss me."

"I miss you all the time," Nate corrected you. Cooper jumped in next, pouting just the same, "You're like the coolest adult we know Y/N!"

Natasha scoffed, "I thought that was me!"

Cooper shrugged, and the other kids giggled. "You're our favorite Auntie, deal with it."

"Yeah Natasha, deal with it," you teased her with that pretty grin of yours just before you turned around to give each kid a final hug.

Natasha watched with an adoring smile, her eyes swirling with joy, and a twinge of hope. Clint caught her, and sent a teasing wink her way, but even that didn't stop her from gazing.

"Alright, it was lovely to see you again Y/N, please don't be a stranger," she winked at Natasha while hugging you tightly. "Get home safely please darling, obey the traffic laws."

Clint laughed, "Way to be a mom honey." He gulped as she glared, then patted you on the shoulder quickly before racing off after her to apologize, and help her settle the kids down.

The room was abruptly quiet again, and even with the palpable tension, it wasn't that bad. You moved around the room collecting your materials while Nat quietly observed you, she was building up her courage to approach you before you could leave the house completely.

Natasha politely tapped you on the arm, and you turned your head to peer over your shoulder to see her nervous smile. She swirled her hand about, you got the message and turned to face her fully, you nodded to confirm your full attention was hers so she lifted her hands to attempt to ask you out on a date.

Natasha shakily pointed at you, then back to herself to essentially say "You and me". She had no idea how to really do this, so she kept her Google search for signs at a minimum. The next thing she did was point her fingers out in the distance, something you understood easily.

The tricky part came when she put her hands together, the redhead tried her hardest to ask you to go to the movies with her, but she missed the mark by a simple position of hands.

"Sure, brie or cheddar?" Natasha blinked in confusion, her hands fell in defeat, and she looked completely disheartened. "What?"

"You just asked me to go to cheese with you."

"Oh my god," she groaned, her reddening face covered by her hands in an instant, but you didn't let her steep in her shame. Much like the first meeting you had her hands in yours, and you squeezed them in hopes of comforting her. Judging by the way her eyes glimmered you knew she was grateful for the gesture.

“Of course I’ll go to the movies with you.”

“You understood but still did that?”

You chuckled, “It was too easy not to.” The redhead dropped your hand then softly nudged your shoulder, “You are really such a tease.”

“Just wait for the date,” you winked, and the woman felt her body warm at the implications.

"Let me know when, and I'll meet you there?" Natasha frowned as she shook her head with absolute urgency. "No, I want to pick you up if that's alright, we can get dinner together first."

"Then pick me up next Friday at seven Nat," you leaned in and placed a sweet kiss to her raised cheek and tried to hide your grin at the blooming warmth felt just beneath your lips. Then you got into your car, and she hung into the window instantly to keep you a little longer.

"I'll need your number krasivaya," her tone was even raspier when she spoke in her mother tongue and she could see by the widening of your eyes that she had an upper-hand here. "It'll be hard to get in touch without it detka."

With a steady as can be hand you slid your phone into hers, allowing her to send herself a text message. As you took your phone back you saw she'd sent herself a selfie, you narrowed your eyes, and she shrugged. "I need a contact photo, and didn't really want to wait."

"So you invaded my privacy instead?" You teased the woman, no bite at all behind your words, so she once again shrugged. "You're very beautiful Y/N, you can't blame me right? It's honestly a shame I hadn't met you earlier."

"You know, you had ample opportunity," you giggled, and softly pushed her out of the car. "But you needed your best friends help."

"Hey...."

"Goodnight Natasha, I expect a gorgeous selfie in return, you know, for your contact." You winked knowingly before revving your engine and taking your leave only seconds later.

"That woman is going to actually kill me." The redhead held her hand over her racing heart as you drove away, it wasn't until your car was the size of an ant that it had begun to settle down.

"Jeez Nat, you're whipped!" Natasha turned to Clint with a tilted head, a move of Wanda's, while wearing her signature sideways smirk. Her narrowed eyes alone spoke of danger, but then her fingers formed the shape of L's, and she linked them and pulled them like a trigger.

Her research expanded beyond your wooing to include the torment of her dearest old friend.

Clint knew better than to ignore her threats, and took off in an instant... Natasha's laughter echoed in the dark fields, and mocked the man.

"I can't wait to have someone to complain about those two with," Laura chuckled to herself as she settled onto the porch swing with a glass of wine at the ready to help her unwind.

"Godspeed to Y/N though, that poor girl hasn’t a single clue what she is in for."

——

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #in the queue

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bishopsbeloved · 3 months

Text

the art of falling in love (part one)

natasha romanoff x fem reader (high school au)

You’ve been in love with your best friend’s sister ever since you first met her (who wouldn’t be?), and you were content to take these feelings to the grave. But when she begins to reciprocate, things get complicated, and you find yourself lying to almost everyone you know — including yourself.

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

read this fic on ao3!

You’ll never forget the fateful day that you laid eyes upon Natasha Romanoff for the first time. Even at the ripe age of seven, you knew you wanted her in your life forever.

Melina Vostokoff and Alexi Shostakov are your neighbours — they live right across the street, and they have done for as long as you can remember. On your fifth birthday, they came home from a trip to Russia with a daughter, Yelena. From the moment you laid eyes on one another, the two of you knew you were best friends. Neither sets of parents had any qualms on that (“oho, here comes trouble,” Alexi would say teasingly whenever the two of you came tearing into the room), and so even before Natasha’s arrival you spent more of your waking hours in their household than in your own.

One time, two years since Yelena entered your life and only a few weeks before Natasha’s arrival, you were playing in the sandy dirt down the back of Yelena’s house, and huffing in annoyance as it proved too fine to hold up as a sandcastle. You looked over at your best friend who was currently experiencing much more success in her own task, her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as she carefully stacked twigs to build a bug hotel, and without even thinking you asked, “why did you pick me? To be your friend?”

Yelena blinked, surprised, but placed a leaf on top of her miniature structure to serve as a roof before responding. “What do you mean?”

“Weeeeell,” you narrowed your eyes in thought, trying to figure out what it was that you meant, “we’ve just always been friends. And I like it, but I was like, why?”

She was quiet for a good few moments, and if you didn’t know the girl any better then you would have missed the slight cleft between her brows that means she’s formulating her next words, and you would’ve thought she was ignoring you. But you did know better, because she was your best friend, and that thought filled your tiny frame with joy.

“Sometimes when you meet people, it’s special,” she said eventually. “Like a puzzle, you know when they fit together? Like — like that,” she mimed two things slotting together with her fingers, and you nodded. “It happened for us, I think. It happened when my mom and dad met, they tell me all the time that dad loved mom from the moment he met her,” she wrinkled her nose, and you giggled. “And it happened for me and my sister in Russia.”

With that last statement, she’d caught your interest. Often in passing she’d mention her sister from the orphanage in Russia, where she’d been before Melina and Alexi had sorted out her visa to bring her back to their home in Ohio. You never quite knew how to respond to it, and she never elaborated beyond throwaway comments such as these, so you were fairly certain that this sister wasn’t even real until the day she was brought home.

And what a day that was; one that turned your life upside down forever. As far as you knew, when you first woke up, it was a day like any other. Another sunny morning of summer vacation. You woke up as bright and early as children annoyingly do and rushed to get ready to spend another day at Yelena’s house, no doubt irritating the shit out of her parents (who, to their credit, were very tolerant of you and Yelena’s seven-year-old antics). But once you’d knocked and stood fidgeting eagerly on their front porch, it wasn’t Yelena, or her parents, who opened the door.

No, it was an unfamiliar girl you were faced with — only one year older as you were soon to learn, but already an entire head taller than you. She looked down at you, face stony, and you stared back in confusion. There was no way this was the wrong house, you’d been coming here every day for the last two years, and you saw it every time you looked out of your bedroom window. So what was going on?

You found yourself remembering a Slavic children’s story Alexi had told you and Yelena last winter, late at night when you were curled up by the fire together drinking hot chocolate, about an old lady who had a house with chicken legs. The Baba Yaga, Alexi had called her. During the night her house would stand up and run away, and be gone from its previous spot the next morning; you found yourself wondering if this had happened to Yelena’s house too. Could any house have legs, or just the Baba Yaga’s house? You’d have to ask Alexi — once you tracked down his runaway house, of course.

“Y/N,” a voice squealed from behind the unfamiliar girl, and Yelena’s face poked out from behind her. “Y/N this is my sister! From Russia, her name is Natasha.”

“You are Yelena’s best friend?” Natasha asked softly, a gentle Russian lilt to her words. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And just like Yelena had described to you, you looked up at Natasha and something just clicked. Something aligned; a puzzle piece you hadn’t even known you were missing slotted into place.

You knew even then that you wanted to be around her forever.

It’s been ten years now, since that day, and you’ve grown up alongside the two of them. You’re an only child with distant parents, and Alexi and Melina have taken you under your wing — so much in fact that Yelena’s room is referred to affectionately as the twins’ room, and you have your own bed in there. More of your stuff is at their house rather than your own these days.

But Natasha has always been just out of reach. Since the day you first met her there’s been this pit in your stomach whenever she’s been around, strange and foreign and somewhat scary to you, that has you reduced to a silent mess with trembling fingers whenever she’s around. It’s a feeling you’ve not always understood, but in more recent years you’ve come to accept you’re in love with her; something you will take to the grave.

You don’t stand a chance with her, of course. You’re her little sister’s best friend, a whole year younger than her, and where she’s popular in school you tend to stick to the shadows. You’re not really picked on, per se — no one dares to when Yelena Belova, who’s terrifying in her own right as well as the little sister of Natasha Romanoff, is constantly glued to your side — but you just don’t have the same social standing that Natasha does. Even if by some miracle you did, she’s your best friend’s sister. You know she’ll never see you that way.

So you’ve decided to yourself you’re going to keep these feelings under lock and key, and pray they’ll go away.

And it’s been going pretty good!… well, that is, until tonight.

Alexi and Melina have flown back to Russia for the New Year, leaving the household in the hands of you, Yelena and Natasha. You and Yelena were perfectly content with spending your days of freedom ordering takeout, bingeing awful reality TV shows and annoying the cat for hours on end, but Natasha was having none of that. The Starks can’t hold their New Year thrasher at their house like normal this year (something about a sick aunt on bedrest? You weren’t really listening, to be honest), so with her parents out of town, Natasha’s offered up her house.

“I don’t want a bunch of gross sweaty drunk people in our house,” Yelena had protested when it was proposed to her, nose wrinkling. “это отвратительно. No.”

“Aw come on, please,” Natasha groaned. “It’s just one night.”

“But it’s not just one night, because we will be cleaning up for days after,” retorted Yelena. “Last time there was vomit everywhere. That was a zero out of ten experience.”

Natasha snorted. “What are you, TripAdvisor?” Dodging Yelena’s half-hearted smack, she’d added, “See, why can’t you be like Y/N? They don’t mind. Right, Y/N?”

Sure, she’d probably played you, but with those eyes who could say no to her?

Well, evidently not you. And because of it, you and Yelena are stuck spending New Year’s Eve locked in her (your) bedroom, her TV on at max volume to even be vaguely heard over the music that shakes the bed with every beat.

“О мой Бог, it’s not even midnight,” Yelena whines, checking her clock for the sixth time in the last ten minutes. “We are going to be dealing with this for hours. Natalia owes us one.”

“She’ll feel guilty tomorrow and take us to a drive-thru,” you tell her, and she sticks her tongue out at you instead of admitting that you’re right.

She opens her mouth to say something else (something witty and uncalled for, you’re sure), but she’s cut off by an abysmally loud crash and scream from downstairs, followed by even louder cheering. The look that crosses her face next just makes you very glad you’re not on the receiving end of her anger tonight.

“Liho,” you remember suddenly, “where is he? Did we pick him up before the party started?”

She pauses. “Oh, shit.”

“He’s still down there?” you panic. “Fuck, Lena, you know how much he hates noise. I’m gonna go get him.”

“No, let me,” Yelena protests, but you wave her off.

“No, because you’ll come back with a kill list twice as long as it is now,” you retort and she scrunches up her face at you, because as always with her you’ve hit the nail on the head. You blow her a kiss before closing the door behind you.

Immediately, you’re hit by the overwhelming stench of sweat and alcohol. Okay, ew. You’d practically begged Natasha to dilute the jet fuel that the Russians call vodka before distributing it, but evidently she’s not taken your pleas into account tonight. (You’re all going to pay for it tomorrow morning come clean-up time.)

At least the universe isn’t totally against you right now, though — the household’s cat, Liho, has one place he will flee to without fail whenever he’s scared; the tiny gap between the washing machine and the wall, in the laundry room. With any luck, you can sneak in and out of there through Melina’s office without encountering too many partygoers.

Getting down the stairs proves a task in itself; they are absolutely soaking for some reason, something must have been spilled on them, so thank god they’re hardwood and not carpeted. It’s like a slip and slide on your way down, and you cling onto the banister for dear life, your task only made more difficult by the tens of other people who have no regard whatsoever for your Mission Impossible-level task currently at hand.

Miraculously, you somehow make it to the bottom of the stairs unscathed, and immediately wince as you straighten back up. The noise down here is even louder, the smell even stronger, and you want nothing more than to flee back upstairs and cower under the bedsheets with Yelena until everyone finally fucks off home. But you remind yourself that if this is the way you feel, tiny flighty Liho probably feels even worse, and as his self-appointed cat mother (which you have been ever since you and Yelena rescued him from the roadside and brought him home), it’s your duty to rescue him.

So you battle your way on through to the laundry room, which thank the lord is empty. You close the heavy wooden door behind you with relief, and lean back against it for a moment, panting to recollect yourself. Jesus fuck, do you hate parties. You’re not even trying to be difficult, it’s just something you’ll never understand — they’re so overstimulating, so overwhelming. You always leave them with such a depleted social battery that you won’t be seen again for the next week. How someone can enjoy these things, you’ll never fathom.

You’re distracted from your inner monologue by the sound of gentle scrabbling, coming from behind the washing machine. An involuntary smile spreads over your face as you instantly clock what that noise is, and you approach slowly, dropping to a crouch.

“Hey buddy,” you say softly to the black fur vaguely visible among the shadows. Its gentle movements freeze, and the scrabbling noise stops. “This sucks, doesn’t it? All alone down here.”

He blinks at you.

”Yeah, it does, huh?” you continue. “What do you say we get outta here? You can come upstairs with me and Lena. How’d you feel about that, bud, huh? It’ll be much nicer, I promise. It’s so lonely down here, isn’t it?”

Convinced, the kitten wriggles out of his hiding spot and trots into your waiting arms. You scoop him up, planting kisses on his head and giggling.

“Good boy. Sweet boy. We got snacks in our room. You just love Twizzlers, don’t you?”

“He does love Twizzlers,” says a raspy voice from behind you, scaring the absolute shit out of both you and Liho. He yelps in alarm, and alarm at your alarm, digging his claws into your shoulder in a way that makes you hiss out loud. You spin around to see none other than Natasha behind you (she must have been in here before you closed the door, you vaguely piece together in your state of gay panic), red beer pong cup in hand, looking fucking beautiful.

You’ve avoided her as much as you can today while she’s gotten ready for tonight, reasoning with yourself that you’re only torturing yourself if you keep admiring her from afar, but holy fuck you can’t believe you were depriving yourself of this. A pale pink, almost nude dress, with silver blossoms settled comfortably on her hips in the way that your hands itch to be, and eyeliner that could fucking cut someone. But she’s smiling at you so softly that even the knife-sharp eyeliner smiles with her, and even though she just gave you the fright of your life you’re almost shaking with the restraint it takes to not go absolutely feral. She looks so good.

Oh lord, you are hopeless.

“You and him are just as bad as each other,” she comments, still smiling, so you know she doesn’t really mean it. Desperately scrabbling to cover for your internal screaming, you fake a pout, dropping a kiss on Liho’s head (he rubs his forehead gratefully against your cheek in return).

“That’s so mean,” you grumble.

“You look really pretty tonight,” she tells you, and your heart actually stops at the compliment. It feels like a trick for a moment, that she’d say something like that, but she’s still smiling a smile that makes your insides go all woozy.

“I really don’t think,” you begin, looking down at your outfit, but then pause. What with the top secret CIA-level mission that retrieving Liho has become, you’ve almost forgotten that before all of this you and Yelena had been playing dress up — strictly within the confines of your bedroom, of course, but you’re wearing one of Mama Melina’s old college dresses and it doesn’t look half bad on you, even though it now probably has Liho hairs all over it. You vaguely recall Yelena begging you to let her do your makeup (“pleeeease, Y/N, I swear I’ll be serious this time no more penises I promise”) too, so maybe it’s not such a reach that Nat actually thinks you look pretty tonight. “Oh. Thank you. S- so do you, I —” You forcibly stop yourself there, for fear of real embarrassment.

Her lips twitch in amusement at your antics. “Thanks.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, a moment of silence, and you figure you’d best take your leave before you inevitably embarrass yourself in front of the love of your life. You step toward the door which she’s still stood in front of, mumbling something unintelligible, but Natasha remains firm and simply raises an eyebrow at you as she sips from her solo cup. Literally everything she does is so insanely attractive that you have to bury your face in Liho’s fur for a moment and inhale in order to ground yourself properly. How can one person be so lovely? It’s just not fair.

“I should go back upstairs, Liho doesn’t like the noise,” you tell Natasha.

“You know, it’s nearly midnight,” is all she replies. “They’re about to start the countdown.”

You nod, tight-lipped. Even when it’s muffled through the thick wood of the laundry room the noise is starting to get to you now, and Liho won’t sit still in your arms either, and you want to get back upstairs to the warm safety of your bed and Yelena’s company and the shit Kardashians show you were watching, away from the girl who it’s as torturous as it is wonderful to be around.

“It’s a romantic thing for a lot of people,” she continues, and you have to look away at that. It’s almost as though she, or the universe is dangling the fact that she’ll never be interested in you in front of your face tantalisingly — like a carrot on a stick. “To kiss the one you love when the clock hits midnight, and the New Year rolls in. You got anyone to kiss this year?”

Okay, wow. Ouch.

“Liho,” you reply with as much humour as you can muster. “He is my one true love. Aren’t you, bud,” you add a few octaves higher, and he perks up, recognising that voice that’s for him. When you look back up at Natasha she’s studying you with amusement in her eyes, as though she knows something you don’t. You can hear the chanting beginning outside of the laundry room now, preparing to ring in the New Year; twenty… nineteen…

Still, though, Natasha makes no move to let you leave.

“Do you have anyone to kiss at midnight?” you ask her pointedly. “Cause you should probably get back to them.”

She downs the rest of the contents of her solo cup in one before slamming it down on the counter beside her. “Don’t need to,” comes her gruff reply, “they’re right here.”

Your jaw actually fucking drops at that statement, and your brain shortcircuits. What? Even though your heart skips a hopeful beat, you shake your head quickly to clear it of the idea that she could reciprocate these crushing feelings you harbour for her. Instead, you hold Liho out to her, hands under his armpits so that his hind legs dangle below him and he stretches to look comically long — as though you’re giving him to her like a present (which he sends you a very unimpressed for). “O— oh,” you stutter, “well if he’s your midnight kiss, is that why you were in here? I don’t want to —” twelve, eleven…

She actually laughs out loud at that, and bats Liho away. “Not him, дурачок. You.”

Her hands are cupping at the side of your face, and despite the absolute bizarre circumstances you find yourself leaning into her touch, desperate to memorise the feel of her warm calloused fingertips against your skin — seven, six; she looks down at you, the blue-green outlining her wide dark pupils framing a silent question. You’re in absolute slack-jawed disbelief, this has got to be a prank, it’s got to be — four, three — but she holds your gaze with a kind of certainty that surely can’t be summoned to fool someone. You nod a trembling, single nod, and her lips press against yours just as the clock strikes midnight.

Her lips are so soft, so gentle against yours. Your eyelids flutter shut; you can’t help it. She feels like heaven. She’s tentative at first, but when she can feel you reciprocating, her hands begin to explore a little; one moving to tangle itself in your hair, the other to your back and pulling you in closer to her. One of your arms is busy still cradling Liho close to your chest, but the other is free to trace along Natasha’s skin wonderingly as she continues her ministrations. Her leg slides between yours, forcing you backwards against the wall, where her kisses trail down your jaw for a moment before creeping back up toward your lips and returning to kissing them instead. When she nips gently at your bottom lip, you let out a noise you’ve never heard yourself make before, a kind of high-pitched whine in the back of your throat that makes Natasha laugh quietly as she pulls away for air. Liho, who was nestled comfortably between the two of you throughout the exchange, is purring merrily (“talk, Valentina!” as your friend Darcy would say).

She looks down at you for a moment, eyes wide and dilated, hair a little less perfect than before, panting slightly. She’s always had a few inches on you, ever since you were kids, and that’s something she often teases you for but right now the way she’s towering over you is so fucking hot. None of this can be real, you think to yourself hazily as she leans back in to plant one more kiss, much more chaste this time, against your lips.

“Happy New Year,” she says lowly to you; her voice is a little more broken and raspy than it was pre-makeout and it actually sends a shiver down your spine. And then she’s waltzing out of the room, leaving you absolutely shaking against the wall she was just pressing you against; your legs give up on you as you slide down against it to the ground, trying to catch your breath and understand what just happened.

Because what?

You wake up the next morning to a house that’s thankfully empty, aside from its usual residents. You’re absolutely terrified that last night was some kind of dream, or it was a drunk mistake. You’ve never felt so vulnerable in your life. You’re right in the palm of Natasha’s hand and she has all the power in the world to absolutely break you right now. She could shatter you into a thousand irreparable pieces and leave you in the dirt if she so wanted to, and that thought is one that had you tossing and turning last night.

Yelena can’t for the life of her fathom why you’re so jittery this morning. You’ve told her fuck all, of course. What were you meant to say? Hey, sorry, last night your sister who I’m kind of a little bit in love with cornered me and we made out? No fucking way. When you came back to the bedroom last night all shaken up and wordless, she just assumed that the party atmosphere had been that overwhelming. You were very grateful for her gentleness with you as you tried to figure out what the fuck was going on, and what you were meant to do now. You tried to Google it, but it would appear that not many other people can relate to the situation that you’ve found yourself in (the best thing you could find were some decade-old Quora threads about being in love with your straight best friend, and the idea of Yelena being straight was so funny to you that you had to close the tab before your laughing woke her up), and you ended up being so worried about Yelena somehow seeing your search history that you cleared the whole thing, which definitely is not suspicious.

“Hey,” Yelena slaps the back of your head playfully as she passes you, knocking you out of your trance, “it is a new day. Party is over, the house is ours, leave the miserableness behind in yesterday, да?”

You nod as you follow her down the stairs.

Natasha, to your surprise, is already awake, and seemingly not even hungover as she bustles around the kitchen, preparing something.

Yelena seems to read your thoughts, as she often does, and nods in agreement. “What, you are not curled up in bed with four million painkillers?” she asks incredulously as she slides onto a stool at the kitchen island.

Natasha shakes her head good-naturedly at her sister’s greeting, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling like an idiot as she continues to cook. “No. I feel good this morning, actually. Really good.” The smile bleeds through her words and takes over her face again.

You and Yelena exchange a look. What is… happening?

“You are being weird,” Yelena tells her, and smacks her over the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper as her older sister walks past her to grab the butter. “What have I missed, did you get laid last night or something?”

Your blood runs cold at that, and you have to look away from Yelena so she doesn’t see the way your face drops. Is that true? Did she kiss you and then sleep with someone else? No, she wouldn’t do that to you, surely.

Your thoughts (hopes) are confirmed when she snorts to herself and shakes her head, her back still to the both of you as she pours batter into a pan. “No. No, I just — I had a really good time last night. That’s all. Thanks for letting me have the party.”

You watch as Yelena’s eyebrows furrow, her eyes tracking every one of Natasha’s movements intently, and she tries to figure out what’s going on. You’re similarly perplexed. Natasha is the silent, stony older sibling, the watcher, the one who hears everything and knows everything but doesn’t often speak of her own accord. Last night in the laundry room was the longest exchange you’ve had with her in weeks (and that was before she kissed you). As a kid you would mistake this for shyness, but it eventually became clear that Natasha Romanoff is not shy. She’s very far from it, in fact. She’s just observant, and doesn’t feel the need to speak unless she has something to say. You have zero clue what she’s feeling or thinking half the time — her poker face is so good it’s unsettling. So this is a weird occurrence. You don’t think you’ve seen her as happy as this since… well, since the day she was brought home.

“Well, it is not as though we had much choice in the matter,” Yelena retorts humorously. “Don’t forget we are not cleaning up. That’s on you, сестра.”

“I know, I know,” Natasha grumbles playfully, placing a plate in front of each of you before sliding a pancake onto each of them, right out of the pan. “I owe you one.”

Yelena looks from the pancake to her sister, and back again. “What is this?”

“A chocolate chip pancake.”

“They’re heart-shaped,” you observe quietly.

“Well done for having eyes. If you don’t want them —”

“Nope, it’s good, thank you,” says Yelena thickly, and it’s already gone. You let out a noise of amusement as you eat in a more dignified manner, humming your approval. You don’t think Nat’s ever made you breakfast. It’s nice, though.

Yelena swallows, and leaps to her feet. “I think it’s a Kardashians marathon on TV today,” she informs you, pointedly ignoring the noise Natasha makes whenever that show is mentioned, and she dashes off into the living room. You are alone with Natasha, for the first time since last night.

The nerves from earlier are back, swelling up inside of you uncomfortably, and you do your best to casually avert your gaze from her as you continue to eat. You have no idea whether to bring up last night or to pretend it never happened. Just thinking of the latter makes your heart ache, but it’s becoming a more real possibility by the minute.

Seemingly indifferent to your internal struggling, Natasha slides a pancake onto her own plate and ruffles your hair as she passes you on her way to the fridge. You flinch at the touch, and she giggles.

“You okay?” she asks you teasingly as she pulls a container of raspberries out of the fridge.

You swallow, and nod, trying your best to not embarrass yourself this morning. “Y — yeah. Uh, can I have some?” You gesture at the tub of raspberries.

She pretends to think for a moment, taking slow steps back towards you, until she’s right in front of you — towering over you even more so than she usually does, since you’re still sat down. You look up at her, filled with something not dissimilar to awe. Even in the mornings, when she’s fresh out of bed and still half-asleep, she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. She places her spare hand on your thigh, with the other still holding the berries, and you think to yourself with absolute certainty that you could die happily in this moment.

“Mmm,” she says thoughtfully. “Beg me.”

Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, your jaw drops. You look up at her, pleadingly, not even sure what you’re pleading for. Pleading her to go easy on you? Pleading her to stop? To keep going? But she’s unrelenting.

“Please,” you say eventually, quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please can I have some.”

Almost too quickly for you to process, her lips are pressing against yours. You gasp against her, every single emotion from last night swelling back up, with the added concern that Yelena is in the next room over. But she pulls away after a moment, winking at you as she retreats to her own seat, and as you raise a hand to your lips you realise that in kissing you, she’s left a berry between your lips. She laughs gently when she sees you openly staring at her, and the sound sets your whole body alight, the feeling only amplified by the fact that you’re the cause of her laughter.

Well, you wanted an answer and there’s not many ways to interpret that one.

And so begins your scandalous affair with your best friend’s sister.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #black widow #high school au #marvel high school au

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wandanatsbaby · 5 months

Text

Tried

pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader, wanda maximoff x sister reader, wanda maximoff. NaTasha romanoff

Warnings: cheating, blip, angst

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You tried. You had tried so hard to make things work between you and Natasha but in the end it seemed as if it was all for nothing.

You would go out of your way to bring her lunch, to spend time with her, to love her, to give her your everything but it seemed she would never do it back. Instead of hanging out with you or going on dates you would find her in Wanda's room with Wanda cuddled up close to her and Natasha holding her. She never did that with you. Always claiming that touch made her uncomfortable.

When she would have a bad day you tried your best to comfort her with sweet and reassuring words as well as taking her out and distracting her. When you had a bad day she would leave you by yourself and go find Wanda to be with.

During movie nights she would sit on the love seat with Wanda as you were stuck sitting on an armchair beside them staring at them with hurt in your eyes.

Diners would be you sitting across from them and watching as they laughed together as Nat fed Wanda parts of her meal.

Parties turned into you watching as Wanda would grind into Natasha. This always led to a fight as once you both got back to your shared room, which was slowly turning into just yours, Nat would deny all of it and claim she was just having fun.

You watched as Wanda, your older sister, and Natasha, your girlfriend, would flirt with each other over and over again. You watched slowly as Natasha fell out of love with you and in love with your sister. You watched the two most important people in your life act as if you were nothing but a piece of dust. And even then you said nothing because you loved both of them and just wanted them to be happy.

Which is what led you to this. Standing in the battlefield as Thanos tried getting the last infinity stone. You all fought your hardest but it didn’t work. You lost. Now you sat on your knees beside Peter as he clung to you as he turned to dust. You heard your name being called by the two women but ignored them as you could no longer feel your legs. Slowly you looked up into the eyes of Natasha Romanoff, the woman you once adored more than anything. And into the eyes of Wanda Maximoff, your big sister. The one that was supposed to alway be there for you. You looked up to her so much. You just hope they know how much you love them. You hoped Natasha would find the ring in your room with the note. You hope she and Wanda will get married and have a beautiful family. You hope they are happy.

With one last breath you disappeared to dust. Both women fell to the ground. Wanda sobbed violently as she desperately called out for you to come back. Her baby sister was gone. Her sister that she betrayed. Natasha just sat there stunned. How could this have happened? How could she have lost you?

Natasha did find the note and the ring but she refused to use it. Natasha had grown distant from Wanda. The two had felt awful for what they did. How they went behind your back. How Natasha cheated on you with your sister and how Wanda hurt the only family she had left.

Natasha vowed to bring you back no matter what it took. And when you did come back she was going to apologize and beg for forgiveness. But for now she kept the ring in her sock drawer promising herself that one day she would get down on one knee in front of you.

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lovsalvatore · 1 year

Text

You’re a mess

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Summary: Natasha tries to tell herself that she’s not jealous, but it's obvious that's the way she feels while looking at you talking to your friend across the room.

Warnings: +18, Minors DNI! smut, Nat has a penis, unprotected sex, bathroom sex, breeding kink, degradation, praising, hair pulling, spanking if you squint, age gap, infidelity, no aftercare as usual lol, fingering, a bit of edging, marking, choking, rough sex, jealousy and possessiveness.

Word count: 6.5k

a/n: after 3 weeks… here u (finally) go ✰ series masterlist, main masterlist

Natasha tries to pay attention to whatever her wife is saying in front of her, but the way your friend touches your shoulder and sits so close to you distracts her. You haven't noticed yet, but she's been looking at you all night.

Tonight's performance — the one in which you've been rehearsing for weeks — was simply amazing, your first time being a soloist couldn't have been better. However, the absence of your parents in the audience made you a little upset, but you're already used to it, and with all the applause at the end you felt for the first time that you didn't need their approval to do what you like. You just felt proud of yourself, knowing that you can play such a difficult piece so easily, and even better, for hundreds of people and without missing a note.

And of course, there's her. The look she gave you when the last note of the symphony was played is something you want to keep with you for a lifetime. She was also proud, and that's enough for your heart to warm even more with all these emotions you've been feeling lately. Emotions that Natasha feels too, but in a very different way.

As a tradition, every time there's a big orchestra event there's also a celebration dinner, and today was no different. You're sitting on a sofa in the house of one of the producers of tonight's event, listening to your friend chatter about all the tourist attractions she wants to visit during tour.

Meanwhile on the other side of the room, the Maestro is trying not to break the glass of champagne she's holding in one hand, watching you smile at a girl other than her. She's trying to tell herself that she's not jealous, that wouldn't make any sense. But it's a fact that she's hating every second of this interaction between you and your friend. Kate. If she'd known you were that close, she wouldn't have put the violinist's name on the list. She thought you were just friends for convenience, not that outside the auditorium you had a friendship too. She thinks about how you're going to travel the world together, and that the plans she had with you might be interrupted because of your friend. She could even take Bishop's name off the list, but now it's too late, and she knows you wouldn't forgive her for that.

"Natasha?" the redhead takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes for a few seconds before turning her attention back to her wife. This is the first time Maria has appeared at one of the celebratory dinners, and everyone seemed surprised to finally see Natasha's wife. Because she rarely wears a wedding ring, there are people who didn't even know she was married, Maria noticed all the stares and whispers her way, but she decided to ignore it. "Did you hear what I just said?" the brunette asks with worried eyes.

"Hm? What?"

"My god, where did you go?" she giggles, but her wife remains serious, looking your way again and noticing that this time you're the one with your hand on your friend's thigh. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you have to put your hand there? Can't you keep a distance while talking? The Maestro clenches her jaw, starting to get annoyed by it all. She's been holding back for weeks now, trying not to get too close to you so she doesn't end up doing something stupid in front of everyone, she was planning to be with you again only when you guys were far away from this country as it would be safer — not that she minds that much — but she's starting to think that waiting that long isn't the best idea. "I said I think I'm gonna go, I'm kind of nauseous."

That's enough for Natasha to pay all her attention to her wife. "What? Do you want me to take you home?" she's worried, she really is, it's her wife after all. "Did you eat something that made you feel sick? Did you drink something?"

Maria smiles when she sees her wife's concern, and thinks that the Maestro could be like this all hours of the day if she weren't such a busy woman. "Oh no darling, I'm fine, I think it's just tiredness." Natasha nods, but her worry doesn't completely evaporate. "And I'll ask Martin to come get me, I don't want you to leave without even eating the dinner they cooked just for you."

"It's not just for me..."

"Still, you're the conductor, you play the most important role in the orchestra, I'm sure they'll want you to stay even after dessert."

Natasha smiles weakly, and nods her head again. For a few seconds she just focuses on her wife's well-being. They've been married for four years now, not a long time, but not recent either. They've been through a lot together, and even though the marriage is good at times, most of the time they're yelling and throwing all sorts of curse words at each other. Yet, the Maestro sometimes feels bad knowing she's cheating, but it's happened so many times over the years that the guilt just seems to not be a problem for her anymore. She knows it's wrong and she also knows her wife isn't the most faithful woman in the world either, so that makes things less worse. She thinks about what it would be like if she tried to fix her marriage, try to make it work, but as soon as Maria says goodbye with a quick kiss on her lips, and finally walks out the front door, those green eyes end up landing on you again, and she realizes that even if she wanted to she wouldn't be able to stop wanting you. She's fucked, she knows it, but unfortunately for her she's not tired of you yet.

You're laughing out loud at something Kate said, resting your forehead on her shoulder as you try to wipe away the happy tears. Natasha just stares, waiting for you to notice. And that nagging feeling in her chest just grows by the second watching you look so happy without her.

"We could even go to the Eiffel Tower, but everyone goes there, we have to be different from the others, don't you think?" you just nod, trying to forget about the joke your friend told you a few seconds ago, and straighten up on the couch. "But like, if you want to go..."

"I mean, I always wanted to go there to be honest." you look at your phone screen, seeing images of the various places you two can visit in France. It has many interesting museums and beautiful parks. You also think about where you're gonna get the money to be able to do all the things you want during this tour, you expect your parents to support you at least in that. "Hmmm... there's this museum-." you start to speak but frown your eyebrows when you see a message from Natasha appear at the top of the screen. She hasn't texted you since you two exchanged phone numbers a few days ago, you thought she would never send you anything, you're not complaining either.

Maestro: Need to talk to you.

You lift your face trying to look for her among the other guests, and it doesn't take long for you to spot her across the room, already staring at you. You can tell just by looking at her that something is wrong, or at least that something is bothering her. Her gaze shifts quickly to your friend sitting next to you, and for a moment you think that might be it, but of course she's not jealous of you, right? You, on the other hand, couldn't contain that feeling when you saw her wife walk through the front door. You know it's pointless to be jealous of the woman she's literally married to, but you can't help but wish you were in her shoes.

Noticing your delay in responding, Natasha just sends you one more message, telling you that it's really important, and without wanting to keep her waiting, you just excuse yourself to Kate, saying you have an important call to take. As you make your way down whatever hall Natasha is taking you, you pray that this conversation won't take too long, that you'll still have time to eat the dinner they're serving later. Adjusting the hem of your dress you start to feel a little nervous when she stops in front of a door, one of the last in the hall, before grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you into a bathroom.

It's completely dark for a few seconds before the Maestro locks the door and turns on the lights. You lean your body against the wall, waiting for her to start saying something, but she stays in complete silence, staring into everything but your eyes. She hates herself for being like this, she doesn't understand why she can't say what she's feeling. Natasha doesn't want to see you smiling at other girls, but she also doesn't want to admit that she was uncomfortable watching your interaction with Kate.

She doesn't want you to know about this effect you have on her, an effect that even she doesn't fully understand yet. The silence starts to get awkward, and you wish you had the courage to do something, say something, touch her, especially make her feel good since you know that's probably what she wants right now, but you can't do it without her having the initiative. She plays with the lapel of her suit, feeling her heart pounding with all the thoughts she's having right now. She wants to curse you out for sitting so close to your friend, she wants to show you how much she hates the fact that you make her feel this way. But she can't find the right words without her sounding like an obsessed madwoman.

But if she knew that's really all you want to hear, she'd probably say it without a second thought. You want her to show how much she wants you in words, but as proud and selfish as Natasha is, she might never say out loud how she really feels. "So... are you gonna say something or..." you say in a low tone, and seem to try to sink even deeper into the wall behind you when she takes a step forward. She's looking down at your exposed legs as she takes off the top of her suit before throwing it on top of the toilet. She's angry, and she knows that talking about it would be better, but she thinks it's easier to show it with actions. "I..." you swallow hard, feeling her delicate fingers brush over your thigh. "You... I thought you-."

"Shut up."

The words come in a whisper from her lips before you feel them on your neck. She wants to mark you, she needs to know that when others look at you, they'll know that you already have someone. Even knowing that you're not exclusively hers, she kinda feels that way, for her no one but her deserves to touch you, and it may be hypocritical of her to think that way when she literally has a wife, but she doesn't care. Her hand starts to move up between your legs as she moves her mouth to your sweet spot, sucking on your skin with the intention of leaving a mark there. It feels good, but then you remember the way she was looking at you and how something is bothering her, you would even try to talk but you never talk about anything when you're alone, and it's also hard to formulate words when she sucks so hard on your neck, throwing every possible shiver down your spine. "Nat-." you try to push her away realising what she's doing, but she just presses her body even harder against yours, moving her face to the other side of your neck.

Natasha closes her eyes as she works her lips on your skin, marking you without even caring if you would want this or not. She's just thinking about what she wants now, how obsessed she is with your body, and how she wants it to be full of marks made by her. She gets lost in the way your perfume invades all her senses, lifting her hand high enough to get it playing with the lace of your underwear. "I want you." she whispers softly against your neck, trying to tell herself that that's all it is, that she just wants you, not that she needs you. You have to close your eyes tightly as she sucks your skin hard, grinding lightly against your leg for you to feel how hard she already is for you. "Are you gonna let me play with you for a bit, hm?" you're already a mess before you nod, feeling her stop sucking the skin on your neck to just spread kisses, moving up to your jaw, to your cheek, until she pulls away to look into your eyes.

It's strange how her gaze can change so much from one moment to the next, and how each one of them makes you feel something different. You start to remember all the times she looked at you like this even before the first time you were together, and you wonder if she always looked at you with ulterior motives. You feel small around her, and you think that feeling of inferiority you have in relation to her will never go away, but that is not a problem for you either, you even like it.

Biting your bottom lip hard and looking down as she starts circling your clit through your underwear, being able to feel the way your wetness spreads over the fabric. You love the way she doesn't even have to look to know the right place to touch you, knowing that either way she's always gonna take a reaction from you. You don't want to take too long not to look suspicious, but you know you won't be able to stop yourself once she starts. You keep looking down, noticing the bulge that starts to appear in her pants, arching your back in anticipation, but then you feel her fingers squeezing your jaw, making you look at her again. "Eyes on me." she says, wanting you to see that the only one who can make you feel this way is her, she wants you to see the desire she has for you, knowing very well that you feel for her too.

She starts by slowly sliding the fabric of your underwear to the side before you finally feel her fingertip teasing your entrance. She groans at how wet you are, and that only makes you even more aroused. You exhale heavily as she rubs her finger across your slits a few times until reaches your clit, her cold fingertips bringing you to literally heaven. "I love how wet you always are for me." she admits, making slow movements while all you can do is just look into her eyes. She wants to tell you that she doesn't want to see you with anyone else but her, only her can make you feel this good, she also needs to hear you saying it, she needs to be sure of that, or else she'll start going crazy. "You're always so needy." she laughs dryly, putting more pressure and speed on your bundle of nerves. You press your lips together, resting your head against the wall behind you, finding it increasingly difficult to keep looking at her. "Tell me, can anyone else make you feel this way hm?"

You immediately shake your head from side to side, thinking she already knew the answer without even having to ask you. Like, who else could? She was your first, and right now you're not attracted to anyone but her. "Only you." you reply in a breathy voice, gripping her shoulder and unable to contain a moan when she surprises you by sliding two fingers inside you. It really feels like you'll never get used to it, the pleasurable pain whenever you have her inside you is a feeling you can never seem to get enough of. "Fuck Nat-." she lets go of your jaw to press her palm against your mouth, not waiting a second to start fucking her fingers fast into you.

"Shhh, don't make too much noise." even though she would love for everyone to hear how good she makes you feel, she knows the timing isn't the best for her to let that happen. "You'll be nice and quiet for me okay?" you just try to nod your head, the heat starting to build each second with her so close to you, and her fingers feeling so good in your cunt. The way your walls squeeze her fingers just makes Natasha even harder, something her wife can never do that easily. The only way she's been able to have sex with the woman she's been married to for four years is by thinking about you, she wasn't lying when she admitted it to you. And it's not like her sex life with her wife is very active, she always ends up just touching herself thinking about you, and how she didn't want you to be the only person she thinks about at times like that. But that's what happens, and she can't do anything to get you out of her head.

You whimper against her hand, moving your hips forward to match her movements. The way her pupils dilate when looking at you just makes you even more mesmerized by her green eyes, and how you think about them almost every hour of your day. She just really knows how to make you feel like you're in another planet by using literally anything, any way she touches you makes you feel inexplicable things. You feel her pumping her fingers into your cunt, and how her palm slams against your clit with her every movement. You want to move your hand from her shoulder and slide down her body until it stops at the bulge you can feel against your thigh, but instead you just dig your fingernails on her skin, the fire in your abdomen growing by the second with an embarrassing speed

Her cheeks are flushed as her gaze locks on the expressions you make for her, pushing her fingers inside you down to her knuckles. She keeps her movement fast, increasing the pressure of her hand against your mouth every time she senses you're about to moan loudly. "Fuck." she groans at the wet noises, wanting to be inside you so badly, wanting to ruin you like she always does. The Maestro feels her cock pulsing inside her pants, and it’s good but very uncomfortable at the same time, while you roll your eyes, feeling her curl her fingers upward, hitting your weakest spot and bringing you incredibly close to the edge.

“Fuck… I love your pussy.” she gasps and brings her face down to your neck again, leaving nothing but light kisses. “I just love how tight you are and how you clench around me… so fucking hot.” she presses her thumb against your clit as she continues to sink her fingers into you, smiling at the way your sounds are muffled by her hand.

It really takes moments for you to feel the bones in your body losing strength, the way her gaze burns into you leaving your head totally empty. "Hm- Nat-." you mutter against her hand, holding her wrist to slow her movements down a bit, but that's no use, you know if she wants to slow down, she's the one who's going to make the decision, and you're already so close that you actually don't really want her to stop now, your mind is just all blurred that you don't even know what you're doing anymore. It's even getting hard to breathe, but you try to hold it for a few more seconds, something that's practically impossible to do.

She decides to leave one last mark on your neck, flicking her tongue at your pulse point slowly. You're hers, that's what she means when she again pulls away, seeing the red and purple marks on your skin. “You look so beautiful like this.” she wants to push your hair back so she can see her work better, but instead she just keeps stifling your moans, pulling her fingers in and out of your pussy feeling your juices wetting most of her hand. “So fucking pretty for me detka.”

Natasha notices how you start breathing harder through your nose, squeezing her shoulder tightly and moving your hips forward. So she just keeps going until she feels like you're almost there, she feels the heat spreading through her body as it spreads into yours, but as soon as you're ready to come all around her fingers she quickly stops, leaving you totally frustrated and wanting more. She wants to laugh at your disappointed expression, knowing she can do whatever she wants to you, and in the end you'll still thank her for it. "Aww, did I ruin your fun baby?" she smiles, taking her hand away from your mouth, and you finally manage to take a deep breath, feeling her slowly slide her fingers out of your pussy. It's as if she intentionally wants to tease you when she roams her fingers through your folds, avoiding touching your clit as much as possible. She spreads your slits, teasing your entrance and watching as you try to move your hips to get more of her. "Sorry... it's just... I want to have a bit of fun too, you know?"

She looks at you with a pitying look, and when you realize she's going to walk away, you hold her by the shoulder, not wanting her to stop touching you. It just feels so good, and you're practically begging her to let you come. "Oh detka, you're so cute." she gives a sardonic chuckle, finally pulling her fingers away from you and leaving you completely craving for more. Your clit is throbbing, and the emptiness that remains is screaming to be filled again. Taking a few steps back she unbuttoned a few buttons of her white shirt before rolling up her sleeves. You're still leaning against the wall, breathing hard as you watch her lean against the sink. Your eyes get lost in the way only a bit of her chest is shown, and how her skin shines with sweat.

"Come here, why don't you help me with this hm?" she says as she grabs her cock over her pants, you follow the action with your eyes, seeing her fingers still glistening with your wetness. Natasha looks with pride at all the marks she left on you, wishing there were even more, she doesn't know where all this possessiveness came from, but she's not willing to change her mind about the fact that she thinks you're just hers. You flash an innocent smile before taking a few steps towards the Maestro — feeling like you could trip any second because of how your legs shake just from the bit of what she already gave you — replacing her hand with yours over the hard bulge.

She sighs and throws her head back when you gently squeeze her cock, playing with it a bit before moving to the zipper of her pants. Natasha just stares as you pull her shaft out, pressing your thumb into the tip and feeling her pre-cum wetting your fingertip. Her size feels even bigger when you close your hand around her thickness, your whole body reacts just by looking at it, and how much you love when she's using you to relieve herself. You're so needy because she didn't let you come seconds ago that you just want her to use you as soon as possible, you've stopped caring if people will think it's weird that you two disappeared out of nowhere, all you need now is her. When you're about to stroke her length, Natasha holds onto your wrist, and you don't have time to ask her what's wrong before she changes your positions, pressing your front against the sink, while standing behind you, moving the hem of your dress to the height of your hips.

You can see it in the mirror's reflection as she looks down at your body, and you try to prepare for what's about to come before you feel her entering you all at once. Maybe you'll never get used to her size, or maybe it's normal and it will still take time for you to be able to take it without feeling any pain. All you can do is grip the edge of the sink as you struggle to stay upright, feeling every inch of her stretching your cunt. "Oh fuck-." it comes out louder than you wanted, and as expected Natasha goes back to pressing her palm against your mouth while keeping her hips still, just feeling the way your walls tighten around her, and how good she feels inside you.

"Shhh, what the fuck did I ask you huh?" you whine quietly as she moves her hips back, only to move them forward again with a force that seems to make all the walls shake. You're just a squirming mess, not being able to look at her in the mirror's reflection as you feel her body heat burn you inside out. Your breath is already hitching by the time you feel your wetness run down your thighs, while Natasha stays still for a few seconds, before again letting just the tip inside your tight hole, this time using her hand to push your hips back, making you feel her cock entering you all at once again. You grunt against her mouth, but she wants to see you struggling to keep quiet, she wants to see you trying without her help. "I'm gonna put my hand down now okay? But you'll remain quiet, or else I'll have to stop."

She actually lowers her hand to your neck, tightening her fingers around your throat as she finally starts to move inside you. You have to concentrate really hard not to make any noise, gripping the edge of the sink so hard it feels like you're gonna break it at any moment. "Oh look at you." the Maestro says in a husky voice close to your ear, each time your hips meet making a loud noise echo in the bathroom. "You always take me so good, don't you?" her hand goes up a bit on your neck to make you look at her in the mirror's reflection, and you wish she hadn't, because now it just gets harder not to show with your voice how good she makes you feel.

As she looks at you, she remembers the way you were smiling at Kate, and how irritated it made her. She chokes you hard with that thought, as she thrusts deep inside you. She fucks you merciless, just wondering if you're ever gonna leave her for someone else, she squeezes her fingers tight around your throat like she doesn't want you to go anywhere but her arms. "You're only mine to use." she whispers more to her than to you, you're so focused on not screaming with pleasure, not releasing everything inside of you, that to you it's just another thing she says while she's so worked up, with no meaning behind it. "No one else can touch you like this, understand?" the words gets stuck in your throat as she doesn't ease her fingers around your neck, and as soon as you keep silent and don't answer her a loud smack noise invades your ears as you feel your skin burning from the slap she just gave you. It hurts, you never thought she'd really hit you like this, but it really felt better than you could ever imagine. "Do you understand?" she asks again, and you just nod your head, moving your hand up to her wrist to pull it away from your neck, not being able to breathe properly anymore.

It's no use, Natasha just uses even more force, making your vision completely blurred. “Hmmm fuck, you feel so good.” the way she pounds on you makes her shiver at the thought of you taking all of her thickness, how it's so easy to sink everything inside you because of how wet you are. She ends up gasping quietly, slowing down just to feel her sliding inside you, while you just dig your nails into her wrist, asking her to ease her fingers around your throat.

It works this time, at least, but then she switches between gripping your throat to wrapping the strands of your hair around her fingers, tugging hard. The maestro also has a hard time containing her moans, but unlike you, she manages to have more control over it. "Then you better not flirt with other people." now it's just jealousy talking, while Natasha rests her other hand next to yours on the edge of the sink. You don't know whether to focus on how good her cock feels abusing your cunt, the words coming out of her mouth, or how painful is the way she pulls your hair. "You don't want them to know what a slut you are, do you?"

"N-no." you look at yourself in the mirror, and at how your cheeks are smeared by the mascara that runs down your face along with the tears. You also see all the marks she left on your neck, and how ironic it is that she tells you not to show what a slut you are when she makes that obvious to everyone by marking you like that. You feel embarrassed about your state, but even more embarrassed about how close you are. Walls fluttering around her cock, which slips in and out of you with ease. You two are so lost in your feelings that you don't hear Natasha's phone ringing, so focused on your own pleasure that you don't even realize that enough time has passed for them to serve dinner. "Fuck, don't stop, please." you say in a breathy voice, the relief washing over your body when Natasha finally lets go of your hair. You feel her hot breath against your ear as she guides your hand to your own sex, pressing your fingers against your clit, and encouraging you to play with it.

You sloppily try to rub your nerve, feeling like every moment you could collapse with the way her thickness slides through your walls, but after a few tries your hand stops, unable to continue because of the way her cock makes you feel. That also causes the Maestro to stop, and you see the evil smile on her face and how she looks so innocently at you at the same time. "Go ahead, keep going." she asks you gently, her dick twitching inside you as she does her best to keep still. She lets out a shaking breath while resting her forehead on your shoulder for just a few seconds before looking back at you, waiting for you to do as she asked to get back to using you the way she wants. You take time, but also wanting her to fuck you again the way she was doing, you end up sighing heavily, clenching your jaw while you go back to stimulating yourself. It's hard to do though, but even so you make circular movements on your clit, even feeling sensitive you keep going, moving your hips to try to relieve yourself on her.

You thank the universe as she slowly moves inside you again, and you realize she's mimicking your slow rhythm, and you hate yourself for not being able to increase the speed. "Really?" she mocks you, smiling as she looks at you through the reflection. "Gosh, what a pathetic slut you are, don't even know how to touch yourself." she takes your hand again, but this time to press it against your lower back. Even if she wanted to tease you a little longer she wouldn't be able to, so she just pounds back into you hard, sinking her entire length with no care at all.

"Fuck... I bet you can at least come, can't you?" you nod frantically, feeling your body slam against the sink with every thrust she takes inside you. You try to move away a little by the way it hurts to feel your body colliding with the furniture every moment, but Natasha holds you tighter forcing you to stay still. "Yeah of course you can, just a needy fucking whore aren't ya?" you agree with her, didn't even know you get so turned on by those kinds of names until she started calling you by them, and especially now this is just the last straw for you to feel the climax building.

"Please..." you beg her with your eyes, finding it the hardest task of all to hold on for one more second because of the way she fucks you so hard, and for the Maestro is no different, she feels the first drops of her cum starting to release inside if you, and that encourages her to keep going. “Please Nat-.”

"Please what?" she purposely breathes heavily into your ear, feeling the way your walls spasm and contract around her dick, and how she knows she won't last much longer either. "Do you wanna come?" you nod, muscles tensing unbearably. "Fuck baby... want me to come with you hm? Want me to breed your pussy so good? Fill you up with my cum?" you just keep nodding over and over again before the orgasm slams against your body, Natasha following you right after and emptying herself inside you. “Fuck… that’s it baby.” you feel all the strength you had in your legs fading away, and the only way you find to stay on your feet is the way she holds you. She bites your shoulder to stop her moaning too loudly and you also have to control yourself not to make any noise. You feel it until her last load is released into your pussy, and how she just stands there for long seconds trying to pull herself together.

“You’re always so good to me, you did so good baby.” she praises you, slowly moving inside you, fucking every last drop of her cum inside your pussy. You feel like something is burning between your legs as she stops completely inside you, breathing heavily against the curve of your neck.

When the two of you finally come off the peak you take a moment to return to your normal breathing as you feel the discomfort that is when Natasha pulls out, her cum dripping down your thighs as she fixes your underwear and drags the hem of your dress down. She looks into your eyes through the mirror, and then gently cups your chin to turn your face to the side. "I'm the only one who can make you feel like this" you feel her breath hitting your lips, and how close her face is to yours. "You'll never let anyone touch you like that, only I can do it." it's not a question, more of a warning, and you as usual just nod whatever she says as you lower your gaze to her lips. You always think how soft they must be, and how good it must be to kiss them, and Natasha notices the way you tilt your face even further, making your lips just inches apart, and with that just completely pulls away from you. "Fix your makeup."

You take a deep breath, coming back to reality, wetting your hands with the water from the sink to clean your mascara-smeared face. You look at her in the mirror's reflection, and see the way she also fixes the wrinkles in her clothes, sighing heavily as she looks at the ceiling. You wanted to know what she thinks after you guys have sex, and why she never wants to talk to you properly after that. For you it’s something really complicated, but for Natasha it's an easy answer, she doesn't want to get attached. You also have to get some paper towels to wipe the mess on your thighs, while the Maestro just puts her suit top back on, and close her shirt buttons. You place your hand on your hip bone, feeling the sore area from the way it kept hitting against the sink, and think of all the bruises it could leave the next day. "Fuck." she murmurs looking at her phone screen once she finishes looking presentable. "Uhm... you need to go."

"I'm sorry?" you turn to face her, finishing arranging a few strands of your hair.

"They started serving dinner a few minutes ago, you should go, it will be suspicious if we show up together." she speaks casually, tucking her phone back into her pants pocket.

"But I... Nat I'm hungry and... Kate was gonna give me a ride back home." she rolls her eyes when you mention your friend's name, while you tell the truth, you were waiting all night for this dinner, having sex in the bathroom of a stranger's house really wasn't in your plans, but now you don't want to go before at least eating something. "You can go ahead, I'll wait a while and-."

"No." she interrupts you. "You can eat at home, take a taxi or something." she's trying not to sound too insensitive, she really doesn't mean to. But between letting you stay and maybe ruin her career and sending you home, she prefers the second option. "What do you need? Money?" she sighs heavily and impatiently, pulling her wallet out of her pocket and scoffing in disbelief when she notices that the only thing she has is a $100 bill. "Here."

“Natasha…” you stare at the bill she holds out to you, refusing to take it. “I can't I-.”

“Gosh just take it.” she grabs your wrist, and places the bill in your hand before tucking the wallet back into her pocket. She sees the expression on your face, and how hurt you look about it, but she can't throw years of career in the trash. “Look… I'm sorry okay? But I really need to go now, just make sure no one sees you when you're leaving… you… baby… you're a mess.” she moves closer to you to adjust the hem of your dress which is still way above your thighs, before lightly caressing your cheek with her knuckles. “Just, text me when you get home, right?”

You don't look at her before you hear the door close, you just play with the piece of paper in your hands. It's like every time she gets what she wants, you just become her apprentice again, not someone she shares such intimate moments with. But at the same time she makes you feel so important that you’re starting to accept this kind of relationship that you two have. Even deep down what you really wanted is for her to look at you the same way you look at her.

taglist: @eliii1sblog @florojas @wannabe-fic-reader @supaheroine @kksalexa @madelineleong @chibilauren @smromanoff @chiar4anna @cl-e @wifeofnatasharomanoff @ccinnamongrl

#my pianist series #wlw #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha #natasha romanoff x fem reader #marvel fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfic #wlw smut #istg if it flops……..

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videovamptramp · 1 year

Text

liar liar (i see right through you)

natasha romanoff x fem reader

prompt: “it wasn’t real.” “it was to me.” “did you ever even love me?” “no. i never loved you.”

summary - after your apartment is broken into, natasha realizes she loves you too much to put you in danger. so she breaks up with you.

warnings: mentions of a break-in, smoking, breakups, angst, ptsd mentions, jealousy, mean nat, fluffy ending, happy ending. natasha’s an emotionally repressed idiot.

natasha knew she was in too deep from the moment she met you. she introduced herself, and you had absolutely no idea who black widow or natasha romanoff was. it was refreshing, seeing that little sheepish blush on your face when your friend whispered in your ear, and told you who natasha was. the nervously cute way you played with your fingers, yet you genuinely laughed at everything she said. she fell for you from the moment she had met you at one of tony’s parties. you were a new intern for one of his companies, and tony specifically wanted to introduce you two. natasha was reluctant, until she met you. everything about you seemed to make her heart smile.

you had a witty response for everything, and natasha loved that. natasha loves you, and that’s the problem. in her line of work, love is weakness. love is what your enemies use to torture you. she can’t ever let anything bad happen to you, not even herself. because natasha romanoff is the worst person on the planet, regardless of the starry eyes you give her, or how you don’t flinch away when she touches you. despite knowing her past. the soft touches you leave on her body, along with those delicate kisses. everything about you makes natasha weak, and for a moment, she doesn’t care. that moment lasts a whole year, until you get hurt.

the police concluded it was a home invasion gone wrong, but the intruder didn’t dare try to steal anything. he cut the side of your cheek, and warned you that he’d be back. natasha had a gut wrenching feeling that it was one of her enemies; she knew it was. coming after the one thing she loves the most. he almost had you— he could have killed you. he didn’t, but he could have, and that’s the message he wanted to send natasha. and where was miss romanoff that night? on a mission halfway across the world.

of course wanda and tony had shown up at the station rather quickly, and they comforted you till natasha raced home as quickly as she could. the pure heartbreak in her eyes was agonizing as she saw the cut on the side of your face, and all the little voices in her head told her that it was her fault. she engulfed you into her arms for an hour as you sobbed and admitted how scared you were. how vulnerable you felt. natasha held you that night, as her thoughts ran wild. you slept soundly, feeling safe in her arms, while she felt like some wild beast you were trying to domesticate.

you go to work the next day, despite natasha’s request for you to say home. you insist on going on with your normal routine, and that you aren’t going to let this get to you. you don’t tell her it already has, just like it’s already gotten to her as well. when you leave, natasha’s alone in your apartment, and alone with her thoughts. things she hasn’t thought about since before she even met you. she thinks about your pretty face, and the scar that cuts going to leave. how you’ll always remember every time you look at it; how she’ll always remember every time she looks at it.

she’s waiting for you when you get home. sitting on the couch, sitting as straight as a robot. she doesn’t look at you right away, and when she does she has an inscrutable look in her eyes. “are you okay, nat?” you ask softly, and she wants to scoff at the ridiculous question. you’re in danger; of course she’s not okay. “i have to go.” she says, and your face softens. “on a mission? so soon?” you ask as you make your way to the couch to kiss her cheek. she tenses and you furrow your eyebrows as you pull away and stare at her questioningly. “no. i have to go. i have to leave your apartment. i can’t be here anymore.” she says and your expression turns serious. “w-what do you mean?” you ask uncertainly.

“is this because of what happened yesterday? because i already started looking for a new apartment, nat. it’ll be okay.” you promise, and her jaw tenses as she grips on her jeans. “no, it’s not okay. i don’t care if you get a new apartment, i can no longer be here. around you.” she elaborates and you freeze at the admission. “what?” you ask in a voice barely above a whisper. “this... it’s gone on too long. i didn’t intend to go this far with you.” she utters the words that make you back away slowly; as if the enter place was going to cave in.

“you— you didn’t intend for this to go that far? what are you talk about, natasha?” you ask, and the sound of her name makes her look at you. there’s something in her eyes beneath all that exhaustion. what she’s tired of, you don’t know, but you can’t dwell. too many thoughts are circling in on you. “i mean, we both know i was never the relationship type. that hasn’t changed.” she states, making you flash her a look of disbelief. “of course it’s changed! we’ve been together for a year, natasha! a year! you’ve been a wonderful girlfriend, where the hell is this coming from?” you ask a bit demandingly, and she shakes her head.

“that means nothing. this year meant nothing.” she lies right through her teeth, but the words sound so honest as they hit you. your whole body goes cold, and you wrap your arms around yourself for some kind of comfort, “nothing? h-how could you even say that? what about everything we did— everything you said.” you try, sounding so desperate as your voice breaks. your throat hurts and tears are stinging your eyes. the sound and sight of you makes natasha’s heart shatter in her chest. “it didn’t mean anything. it wasn’t real.” natasha says coldly as she stands up. suddenly this is becoming too excruciatingly real. just yesterday she was holding you in her arms, keeping you safe. just yesterday she uttered those three words. ‘i love you’.

“it was to me.” you whisper.

a tear falls from your eyes as you look up at natasha who’s standing a few feet away. it’s pretty fucked up that all you want is for her to wrap her strong arms around you and make you feel better. she says nothing, all she does is stare at you as if you’re a stranger. as if you’re not the girl she’s been making love to for the last year. you swallow thickly, “did you ever even love me?” you ask, trying so hard to keep your voice steady. the question nearly winds natasha, but her eyes land on the cut on your cheek. the reality sets in. she has to do this.

natasha goes into assassin mode; all of the emotion leaves her face and eyes. “no. i never loved you.” she simplifies, and natasha can see the exact moment she broke your heart. it’s engraved into her mind, and amongst all of the terrible things she’s done, this one makes the top three. your bottom lip trembles, but you bite down on it hard to keep it steady. “i-i’ll help you pack your—“ you try but she cuts you off. “i already handled it this morning.” natasha responds curtly, and your heart sinks. she planned this. she was planning on leaving you. you wondered how long she’s been thinking about leaving; how many nights she’s spent in your bed feeling suffocated by you.

“goodbye y/n.” she says, and as you look up at her through teary eyes, you can see what looks like regret behind her own. why is she doing this? she doesn’t really want to leave, does she? her eyes say no, but she just said all those awful things. you blink, trying to blink the tears away but they fall rapidly, multiplying. she’s walking away now. she’s making her way to the front door, and you know this time she’s never coming back. never.

your voice is stuck in your throat and the words physically crawl out, “please don’t go.” you try to whisper, but it comes out as a pathetic whimper instead. natasha turns her head, but your back is to her. you don’t want to watch her leave. you don’t think your heart could take having that image burned into your mind. tears well up in the assassins eyes as she takes your image in one last time. you in this apartment. you with your work uniform on that you hate. your hair in an unruly ponytail after a long day. it takes everything in natasha to turn towards the door, and walk out.

but she does. she leaves, and as soon as that door shuts again, the haunting realization that it will never be open for her again makes the tears in her eyes fall. she turns back around, she doesn’t want to go. she wants to walk in and tell you everything she just said was complete and utter bullshit. she wants to tell you she loves you so much the thought of anything happening to you because of her makes her want to die. she hears the muffled sobs through the door, and her heart breaks even more than before. she broke you. she broke you, but she will not be the reason you die. you being sad is better than you being dead.

right?

six months. it’s been six months since you heard from natasha. the first few months felt like hell. all you did was cry, or try not to cry. you barely left your house unless it was for work; not to mention the ptsd from the break in. you moved into a new apartment a few days ago. it feels a bit better. now that you live on a different side of town, you feel a bit safer, but a part of you wonders if natasha will ever knock on your old door and be surprised when someone else answers.

you push that thought away quickly as you get ready for one of tony’s infamous company parties. it’s at the avenger headquarters, so you don’t know if you’ll be seeing natasha, but you put on a tiny black dress and curl your hair to be prepared. you’re not going alone; you’ve been casually dating your coworker johnny for a month now. you decided to bring him as your plus one. you don’t really know how you feel about johnny. he’s sweet, and you’re trying to move on with your life without natasha.

natasha on the other hand; she’s an angry mess without you. she spends her days in the compound when she’s not training or on missions. she’s built so much arm muscle in the last six months just to keep herself busy from thinking about you. you and your smile. she isn’t sure if you’ve moved on, or if that smile is directed at someone new. she hopes not.

she keeps a picture of you by her bed, and she thinks about you every day. sometimes, when she’s in town and drives by your apartment, she thinks about stopping by. she thinks about pouring her heart out to you, and telling you the truth. then she thinks about the way you looked at her that night; the words she said to you that she didn’t mean. that evening’s been replaying in her mind since she left you. god, she hasn’t stopped seeing your face every time she shuts her eyes. she remembers how it felt to have you in her arms; or when she’d wake up to you. she hasn’t been with anybody since you, and she doesn’t want to be. sure, she’s gotten offers, and there were a number of women and men in the compound who wanted a piece of her, but all she could think about was you. it was as if you plagued her thoughts twenty-four seven.

natasha romanoff has never been in love before you. she had never really felt much of anything before you other than anger. meeting you was like putting water on a fire that’s been burning for so long. a fire nobody else could put out except for you. there was no more fire though; just a drought.

the redhead glances down at her glass of expensive champagne as she stands at the bar wearing a tight red dress. the room is full of shield agents, and her teammates, along with other various workers who worked for fury and tony. there were a hoard of people she’s known for years, some longer than a decade, yet she’s never felt more alone. just as the widow is standing around feeling sorry for herself, she hears the most gorgeous sound in the world. for a moment she thinks she’s hallucinating. it’s your giggle.

natasha looks up, and her eyes lock on you. you’re wearing a tight black dress, and a pair of matching black doc martens. your hair is curled perfectly, yet your back is to natasha and she can’t see your face. her heart falls into her stomach as she sees a tall man standing beside you, he slinks his arm around your waist, and kisses your cheek. you’ve moved on. of course you moved on, you’re wonderful. natasha frowns as she looks down at her half empty glass.

“need something stronger?” yelena asks, pulling natasha out of her thoughts. the redhead turns to look at her younger sister who’s now holding out a flask for natasha to take. natasha gladly accepts, taking the flask and chugging quickly. the taller woman can’t help but stare at you. you turn your body to the side to look at the man you’re here with. he’s talking about something and you’re listening to every word he says. just like you used to listen to her.

“she looks good.” yelena comments, reaching for the flask. natasha scowls, “she always looks good.” the older woman mutters, making yelena chuckle as she shakes her head. “идиот (idiot).” yelena mutters, and natasha glares at the blonde, “you’re an idiot! three years ago you were calling a seatbelt a strap on!” natasha snaps, and yelena’s smirk deepens. “you’ve been such a bitch lately, and now i see why. did y/n ditch you for him?” she asks with a hint of amusement, yet her eyes linger on your date longer than their supposed to. if natasha wanted to kill this guy, yelena already had five different ways to do it running through her mind. “no. i told you, i broke up with her. it was just a fling.” natasha lies horribly and yelena scoffs.

“a fling is that stupid thing you had with green superhero. what you had with her was different, and it’s gonna take a lot of convincing for you to make me believe you broke up with her.” yelena laughs, and natasha glowers at the younger woman, “and why exactly is me breaking up with her so hard to believe?” natasha inquires, causing yelena to shoot her a knowing expression. “because you’re in love with her.” yelena acknowledges, and the redhead tenses at the words. she knows they’re true. everyone in this damn room except for you knows it.

“she’s better without me.” natasha affirms, making yelena stare at her as if she’s gone crazy. “before we broke up, someone tried to hurt her. they broke in while i was on a mission and cut her face, yel. the police say it was a home invasion gone wrong.” natasha scoffs and yelena raises a brow. “you don’t think so?” she asks and natasha offers her a serious look. “it was a message. it had to have been. it made me realize just how many enemies i’ve made. she’s better off without me, because next time it won’t just be a cut to her face and i’d never forgive myself for it.” natasha hisses under her breath, and yelena purses her lips.

“yes, i felt the same before i let myself be happy with kate. but you have to realize danger is everywhere, right? that guy could murder her in her sleep and we wouldn’t even be prepared for it.” the blonde adds bluntly, and natasha’s eyes widen. “why the hell would you say that?!” the redhead asks with a hiss, and yelena rolls her eyes, “because it’s true. the only way you’re gonna be able to keep her safe is by protecting her, and how are you gonna do that from far away?” yelena asks pointedly.

the redhead looks over at you, and as if on cue, you look up and your eyes lock with hers. time stills as your eyes lock with those emerald green orbs. still as beautiful as ever. your breath gets caught in your throat, and within a second all of your progress in the past six months comes crumbling down. you get lost in her eyes for a split second, before looking away quickly. your chest aches as you swallow whats in your glass, and try to focus on whatever johnny and bucky are talking about.

natasha’s gaze is glued to your back for a good five seconds after that. yelena’s chuckle pulls her out of her trance. “you are both идиоты (idiots).” yelena confirms, and natasha shoots daggers at yelena with her eyes. natasha snatches the flask out of her sisters hands and finishes what’s left, causing yelena’s jaw to drop in offense. “that was the only vodka i brought!” the blonde is borderline pouting, causing natasha to roll her eyes. “i needed it more than you did. i’m getting out of here.” natasha remarks as she places the flask in yelena’s hands before the redhead walks away.

natasha turns her head to look at you one more time, except you’re no longer standing in the same place as you were before. natasha’s stomach burns with jealousy as she thinks about you going home with your date. she tries to push that thought far away as she exits the party, and makes her way to the elevator. now her mind is centering around you, and your laugh. how beautiful you looked tonight. you’re always so beautiful. her fists clench as the image of someone else with their arm around your waist is now branded into her mind. she knows she has no right to feel this way; but she still feels undeniably jealous.

as she steps outside of the building, her eyes lock with yours. you’re smoking a cigarette on your own. natasha freezes in her tracks right outside of the entrance of the building. neither of you make a move, or say a word. you blink a few times, your heart is pounding, and you can’t even bring yourself to say anything. she looks down at the cigarette in your right hand. “you smoke now?” she asks, and a wave of disbelief washes over you. she hasn’t dared to reach out for months, and the first thing she says to you when she sees you is that?

you shrug, keeping your composure. “i picked it up.” you respond curtly, as you turn away from her, and continue to smoke. natasha bites the inside of her cheek hard, refraining herself from saying anything, yet she doesn’t make any movement to walk away. “where’s your boyfriend?” she asks blandly, and you roll your eyes, your back still to her. “he’s not my boyfriend. we came in separate cars, and he left.” you respond simply, and she nods slowly. you’re still refusing to look at her, but she’s practically gaping at you.

“you look good.” she adds, breaking the short silence. you sigh as you toss your nearly finished cigarette on the ground. you turn to look at her, a deadly serious look in your eyes and it nearly makes the ex assassin gulp. “don’t do that.” you warn, causing natasha to knit her brows together, “do what?” she questions, and you flash her a pointed look. “the small talk. stop trying to pretend like you care about anything pertaining me. we don’t have to talk. ever. you can keep walking.” you say, gesturing your hand towards the parking lot. you swear a wave of hurt flashes through natasha’s eyes, but she regains herself quite quickly. she clears her throat, “i do care. i care about you so much.” she claims, and she takes a step closer to you. instinctively you take a step back; the hurt in her green, jewel colored orbs clear as day now.

“six months later and you’re still a liar? you know, you should have been an actress, natasha. i guess if you ever decide to quit the avengers, you have something to fall back on.” you snap as you start to walk away. “wait— please don’t go yet. i just wanted to apologize.” she tries, trailing behind you. you come to an abrupt stop, causing her to halt. you turn around, tears are in your eyes yet you look undoubtedly angry. “apologize? for what? for walking out on me when i needed you, or for wasting a year of my life with your lies?” you ask harshly, and her shoulders deflate. “i know what i said that night—“ she tries, but you cut her off.

pure rage flashes through your eyes, “don’t. that night... that night was the only honest night of our relationship. the rest of it was all a lie.” your voice is cruel, and natasha feels herself shrinking. is this how you felt that night? “please i—“ she tries, but you shake your head. “no, natasha. i don’t want to hear it. you’ve had months to try to talk to me, months to explain yourself. i’ve moved on.” you’re lying right through your teeth, but the way her face changes into an obvious pained expression is, in the moment satisfying. hurting her the way she hurt you feels good in this moment.

natasha looks down at her shoes, her throat aches and her eyes are burning with tears. she blinks them away quickly, nodding as she looks up at you. “can you— can you at least tell me that you’re happy? just tell me you’re happy without me, and i swear i’ll leave you alone. i won’t try to explain myself, or ever bother you again.” natasha swears, and you blink, your eyes set on hers. all you can hear are those words she said to you. those words you’ve heard in your head every night for the last six months. ‘i never loved you’. those nights making love to you, whispering how much she loved you in your ear; that was all a lie.

the bitter, furious expression etches itself onto your features, “i’m happy. much happier. thank you for leaving my life, it was the best thing you ever did for me.” you spit coldly, and the moment the words leave your mouth you regret them. the way her face looks; it’s as if you just slapped her. she backs away from you slowly, nodding as she pries her eyes away from you. her hands are at her side, and she’s standing there robotically, kind of like she has no idea what to do with herself. the anger leisurely exits your body, and suddenly, under the pale lighting of the moon, you can see just how broken natasha looks.

“i’m sorry for bothering you. goodnight.” her tone is barely above a whisper, and she turns around on her heels and quickly disappears back into the building. you stand there for what feels like ages; you don’t even realize you’re crying until you lick your lips and taste the salty tears mixed with the faded strawberry flavor of your lipgloss. she hurt you terribly, yet you can’t help but feel irrefutably guilty as you think about how she looked at you after those lies left your mouth just now. you weren’t happy without natasha; how could you be? you’ve just felt so used, hurt, and angry, you wanted to hurt her feelings like she hurt yours. it felt good for a few moments, but now you just feel awful.

you close your eyes and rub your palms across your stained cheeks, wiping your tears away roughly. at least you evened out the score now. who are you kidding? you’d let her win every battle if it meant she’d come back. but she doesn’t love you. why was she even trying to talk to you in the first place?

that night thoughts of natasha plague your mind. what explanation could she possibly have? what more could she need to say? didn’t she say everything she needed to the night she dumped you? you sigh, tossing and turning in your bed. this is for the better. being without her is better than being with someone who doesn’t really love you. regardless of how much it hurts. still, the look she gave you tonight is stuck in your brain.

all of your progress you’ve made over the last half year, seems to be lost. you realize how in love you still are with natasha as soon as you can’t stop thinking about her after that night. as soon as you realize no matter how much you want to, you can’t hate her. no matter how much she hurt you; no matter how used you feel... you still miss her more than anything. if you were being honest, all you wanted was for her to knock on your door and beg for your forgiveness. even though you know she doesn’t deserve it.

the weeks go on, and october rolls by. you break things off with johnny before he catches any serious feelings, and luckily, you get promoted at work so you don’t have to see him every day anymore. your financial life seems to be getting better, yet you can’t help but feel as if you’re living like a robot. living day to day; forcing yourself to eat, work, and breathe. a part of you lives with the constant nagging; that little voice in your head that makes you feel so small. it tells you horrible things.

‘you were never enough for nat.’

‘of course she lied about loving you, who would?’

‘you can’t do anything right today, it’s no wonder natasha left you so easily.’

‘she probably found someone better.’

of course, these thoughts aren’t happening 24/7, but they are getting more consistent. one week it gets so bad you don’t go a single night without crying. you call into work for three days straight before showing up and going right to tony’s office. you knock lightly, and he looks up from his laptop, smiling a friendly smile at you. “good morning, y/n! what can i do for ya?” he asks, and you flash him a watery smile. immediately the older man can see somethings wrong. your skirt and blouse, that are usually as prim and proper as you, are wrinkled. the bags under your eyes are evident, and it’s clear you aren’t wearing any makeup.

“good morning, mr. stark. i-i know i called out for a few days this week, but i have a few weeks of vacation time available... i was wondering if i could use a week of it?” you ask a bit nervously, looking down at your fingers while playing with them. “of course you can. though, you haven’t taken a vacation in years. is everything alright?” he asks, and you look up, nodding too quickly for his liking. “yup! everything’s fine! just planning on visiting my parents.” you lie. you haven’t visited your parents in years due to your rocky relationship with them.

he stares at you, seemingly unconvinced. he nods reluctantly, “alright... well, if you want to start your vacation today, you can. i’ll put it in right now.” he says, and you smile gratefully. “thank you, mr. stark. i’ll see you next week. have a wonderful day.” you muster up sincerely, and he smiles kindly at you. “you too. if you ever need to talk, just remember you’re not alone. you dated one of my best friends for a year, you became my friend.” he reminds and you smile sadly. “thank you, tony. i’m fine.” you lie, and he nods reluctantly.

“well, alright...” he trails off as he watches you walk out of his office. “don’t forget your sunscreen! vegas is sunny, even this time of year!” he warns, and this, earns a sincere chuckle from you.

tony tries to push the thought out of his mind, but he brings it up to pepper that night before bed. “i’m sure she’s just going through a hard time because of the breakup...?” pepper asks and he sighs, “that’s just it; over the last few months she’s been thriving! i even heard she had a thing with that johnny boy from HR. but after that party a few weeks ago things changed. i’m telling you, babe, the kids been a zombie at work. she called out for the last three days, and today she requested a week long vacation!” he admits, and pepper frowns.

“a vacation? since when does y/n ever want a vacation? she loves work...” pepper mutters, and tony flashes her an ‘i told you so’ expression. “was natasha at that party?” the blonde asks, and tony thinks for a moment, before nodding. “hey, you know now that i think about it, i think they sort of disappeared at the same time... do you— do you think they hooked up??” tony asks a bit scandalously. pepper laughs at her husbands love of gossip, “hmm... maybe. i don’t know... did natasha ever tell you why they broke up?” pepper asks curiously, and tony shakes his head.

“of course not. she just came back to the compound one night and asked for her old room back. we put two and two together when we stopped seeing y/n hanging around. i never asked y/n about it because it was right after her apartment got broken into. poor kid had to deal with that huge cut on her face, and a breakup. i didn’t want to pry.” tony confesses, and pepper furrows her eyebrows. “why would natasha break up with her right after that? i know natasha isn’t the most loving person, but we all know she was head over heels for y/n. there was no way she just decided to breakup with her for no reason. especially while y/n was going through that.” pepper points out.

tony makes a face, “i don’t know... nat’s kind of an ass...” he trails off jokingly, and pepper hits his shoulder, causing him to laugh. “i’m kidding. look, i go to the compound tomorrow to help peter train. i’ll ask nat about y/n. i’ll gather some more information for you.” he winks at his wife, making her giggle as she shakes her head in amusement. “normally i’d advise you not to get involved, but somebody needs to get those two back together already.” she huffs.

natasha hasn’t gotten more than an hour of sleep since her last encounter with you. seeing you look so beautiful, so happy without her makes her realize all her insecurities were true. you found someone better, someone who deserves your love and kindness. someone who can tell you how they feel without struggling with their emotions. someone who can hold you at night, and allow you to sleep without having nightmares that wake the both of you up. someone normal.

she’s been living on autopilot since she left you, and she has a feeling that’s not going to change. how is it that she can’t imagine her life before you? it was only a year... a year of your smiles, gentle touches, and delicate kisses. the purest love natasha has ever received. it’s no wonder she couldn’t return it the way she should have. she loves you. more than she’s ever loved anything. but she lost you, and she knows there’s no way to get you back.

“jeez, you look awful.” tony’s voice causes natasha to roll her eyes as she waits for the coffee machine to finish up her drink. she doesn’t even bother looking at the older man, “because you know so much about looking good.” she mutters under her breath and tony steps closer. he gets a look at the bags under natasha’s eyes, and the way her eyes are hard and fixated on her mug. “she’s miserable without you, you know?” tony asks, breaking the short silence. natasha tenses, she knows he’s talking about you. “that’s not what i saw.” she mumbles.

“the eyes can be deceiving.” he reminds, and natasha responds with silence. he sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair. “when are you going to stop this? you’re both miserable, and it’s obvious as hell that you don’t want to be here, nat. you want to be with her.” he says adamantly, and natasha slams her mug down onto the counter so hard it nearly shatters. “she’s safer without me, stark!” natasha snaps, and tony looks taken back for a moment.

“you don’t know what it’s like to have so many enemies you can’t even go on a mission without someone trying to hurt the person you love.” natasha’s voice is stern, and her brows are pinched together while her eyes are glossy. tony looks at her for a second without saying anything, “that guy who broke into her old apartment... it wasn’t a robbery gone wrong was it?” he asks and natasha’s jaw tenses before she answer. “no. it wasn’t.” she retorts bluntly, but the way she’s still refusing to meet tony’s eyes shows him just how much this has been eating her up.

“you know, no matter how wrong you think you are for her, nobody gets to decide that but her. i can’t tell you she’s never going to get hurt, and i can’t tell you if that fear of her getting hurt when you aren’t around will ever go away. trust me, i know that fear, natasha. but i also know love, and so do you. you can’t just pretend not to love someone because you’re afraid of the outcome. i’ve known you for eleven years now, and never once have i seen you as happy as you are with her.” he points out, and natasha snaps her mouth shut.

“she’s with somebody else now.” natasha announces, and tony scoffs. “who, johnny from HR? word around the office is they stopped seeing each other last month. right after that party i threw here.” he says and natasha’s entire expression changes. she turns her head to look at him, searching his face for any sign of dishonesty. “w-why?” natasha asks, and he flashes her a knowing look, “i’ll give you three guesses but you only need one.” he taunts, and natasha chews on the inside of her cheek.

“she doesn’t want to talk to me. in fact, at the shield party she told me she was happier without me.” natasha swallows thickly as she remembers your exact words. tony rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms, “happier? natasha, she spent the last six and a half months throwing herself into work and refusing to say your name. then all of a sudden she sees you at the shield party and she’s missing work, and using her pto?” he asks, and natasha pauses, scrunching her brows together. “she’s missing work? she never misses work, she loves work.” natasha says, more to herself than to tony.

the older man flashes the redhead a look, “i know. which is why i’m worried about you both. you should go check on her.” he urges, causing natasha to shoot daggers at him with her eyes. “go see her?? i don’t even have her new address!” she hisses and he raises his brows. she falters for a moment, “okay... maybe i have the address... but i don’t have the apartment number!” she proclaims, and tony shakes his head, chuckling. “apartment 345. seriously, nat, think about going to check on her. even if it doesn’t mend your relationship, at least you’ll know she’s alright.” he says simply, before stealing the fresh coffee natasha hasn’t even taken a sip of yet.

she glowers at him as he slips away, making her sigh in defeat. she knows she can’t keep living like this. living without you.

it takes natasha two whole days to work up the courage to show up at your apartment. even after she’s standing right in front of your door. she looks down at her boots and sighs. what is she doing? she can’t try to win you back after all those things she said. “natasha?” your voice from behind her causes her to freeze. “what are you doing here?” you ask with a handful of grocery bags. she turns around to see you; you in your oversized flannel jacket and ripped jeans, along with a cropped top. you furrow your eyebrows because she’s staring at you as if she’s looking at you for the first time.

“how did you get my address?” you ask uncertainly, and your face changes. “you’re a spy. you literally are a professional at gathering intel... i’ll stop asking stupid questions now.” you mutter as you nudge her to the side softly to get to your door. you push it open and your greeted with your german shepherd puppy, “hi sweetheart.” you greet her and natasha eyes the dog who comes rushing over to her and starts jumping around her legs.

“that’s winnie. i got her last month.” you admit, and you sigh tiredly as you see a pee stain on the wooden floor. “she’s still learning how to live as a civilized lady.” you admit as you set the bags on the counter and walk over to the mop near your kitchen. you look up and see natasha kneeling down and stroking your puppy’s head, the sight tugs on your heartstrings. “she’s cute.” natasha confirms, and you smirk as you mop up winnie’s mess. “thanks...” you trail off as a silence washes over you both.

“would you—“

“i just came by to—“

you both start speaking simultaneously, causing you to bite your bottom lip. she stares at you, silently offering you to go first. “would you like something to drink? i can make hot chocolate.” you ask calmly, and she shakes her head. “no thank you... i just... i know i promised to leave you alone... but i... i can’t stop thinking about you. i’ve felt like i’ve been living my life on autopilot without you. i’m sorry. i know i shouldn’t be here, but i’ve never felt this way before.” she confesses, standing by the front door, her emerald eyes pouring into yours as she stares at you with an expression you can’t even read. she looks even more broken than when you last saw her.

your fingers are playing with the ends of your flannel jacket, and you stare at her for awhile. “wh-why did you do that? you lied to me for a year. a whole year, natasha.” your voice cracks as you speak, and you mentally curse yourself for it. natasha’s fingernails dig into her palm as she clenches her fists, and she shakes her head. “no. the time we spent together was the greatest time of my life. i lied to you that night. i... you don’t understand, that man who broke in, he wasn’t just an intruder... i put you in danger. i have too many enemies, and i knew you wouldn’t just let me go. so i hurt you, and i’m sorry.” natasha sounds full of shame and regret, and your brows scrunch together in confusion and a bit of anger.

“so you lied?? you said all of those horrible things so it’d be easier for me to let you go?? natasha— it wasn’t any easier for me to let you go! it felt like someone cut a hole in my chest!” you’re nearly shouting, your hand over your chest in emphasis. natasha shuts her eyes, a ragged breath escaping her lips as she tries to ignore the tears threatening to leave her eyes. when she opens them again, you can see the tears brimming in those emerald orbs, “i’m sorry... i’m so sorry, i thought you’d be better without me...” her voice is faint and your heart cracks in your chest at the sight of her. “why would you think that? i love you, natasha. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” you say sincerely, and this causes her heart to flutter. natasha doesn’t even realize she’s crying until she can feel the tears streaming down her cheeks, and falling off her jaw onto her collarbone.

“you love me again...?” she asks in complete shock. you shake your head, your own eyes full of tears. “i never stopped, nat.” you confess earnestly, and her bottom lip is quivering as her tears won’t stop. “i’m sorry, detka. i’m so sorry i left you. i love you so much, i always have.” her hands are shaking and it’s like your body has a mind of its own as you walk over to her slowly. you carefully inch up to her with your arms open, and her heart palpitates against your chest as she gladly reaches for you and pulls you against her.

her strong embrace engulfs you, and the smell of her makes you start to sob. you don’t know how long you two are standing there like this. your arms around her waist and her arms around your neck, holding you to her chest. your tears were surely staining her shirt, but you didn’t care. you’ve missed her so much, she’s all you’ve been able to think about for months. “you can’t just do that, nat. you can’t— you can’t just make decisions for my benefit without talking to me about it.” you say sternly as you push her away, looking up at her with a stringent expression, yet the widow could see the vulnerability seeping through.

“i promise i’ll never leave you again, detka. not as long as i’m breathing.” she swears, as she pulls you in again, kissing your head as she keeps you held tightly. that’s a promise natasha intends to keep.

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