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boop-le-snoot · 9 months

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masterlist

dirt

sundress+no panties+daryl = uh oh...

title and soundtrack is dirt by depeche mode. you need to take depeche mode away from me tbh, I'm hung up on the exciter album writing smut when I should be making updates to my negan and ironstrange fics.

I also headcanon daryl having huge fat swinging balls for some reason and I'm so sorry you had to read that I turn into an animal when I write daryl

cw: 18+, word count 3k. a little rough (butt slaps, some bites, he calls you a "bitch in heat" and a "slut" a couple of times - lovingly of course), a little pervy (you're fucking outside and daryl eats his own come out of your pussy+breeding kink if you squint really hard).

He reaches in, fingers curling around the bunched up, patterned cotton of the dress and his mind blanks. The low growling, he realises, is coming from his own mouth.

"The fuck, girl?"

You look at Daryl over your shoulder, where the bare skin has erupted in goosebumps from his hot, humid breath. "What?"

You sound annoyed, but there's a distinctive teasing undertone to it. Your eyes are narrowed a little too much. The corners of your cherry-tinted lips are tilted upwards.

"You ripped all my damn underwear, Daryl! What did you expect?" You grouch, breaking the second of still silence. "Can't just take a stroll to Victoria's Secret anymore, can I?" Seeing his face darken even more, you hastily add, "I got a couple I wear on runs."

You sound so cute when you're annoyed, Daryl thinks, but it's overshadowed by his blood rushing in his ears, hot and fast. His cock is still pulsing in his jeans and it demands to be released.

"So you jus' walkin' 'round with allat juicy ass hangin' out fo' all da men to sniff?" Daryl feels an urge to clarify to you, what is exactly you're doing, that he's upset with. "Cuz that's exactly what all them dawgs are fuckin' doin'!" He's jealous, of course he is, but most importantly, he doesn't trust any of the men as far as he can see them.

Hell, he isn't completely sure even Rick would pass on the opportunity to get an eyeful of your soft thighs, your scrumptious ass, or your fat cunt, for that matter.

Lord knows they're the juiciest fucking things he has seen in his whole entire miserable life. Just thinking about it makes his rock hard cock twitch and release a sad dribble of pre-cum in his pants.

"Exactly, your girl!" You declare, eyeroll audible in your voice. "Nobody's seein' me without my panties 'cept you."

Daryl's only response is to hitch up the sundress higher, the movement so quick, the fabric gives a sad crack as the seams threaten to burst. Your ass is still bare, still round and smooth as ever, nobody should have this sort of curves while they're in the middle of a damn apocalypse, he thinks, and sinks to his knees and sinks his teeth into the supple skin of your right ass cheek.

You yelp at the sharp pain. You squirm, your attempt at getting away, of course, futile: your hips and waist are firmly in his grasp. Rough fingertips dig into you, just shy of painful.

"There," Daryl inches back a bit, admiring the indentations left behind by his teeth. For someone who forgets to take care of himself most days, his teeth are surprisingly straight and white and strong. And he lets you feel it. "Now if any asshole decides to go nosin' where he shouldn't, there'll be a warnin'." Daryl sounds proud of himself, which is all and all - fair.

Once the initial shock subsides, your feel your cunt lips stick together even more as your arousal oozes out of them- and down your thighs, now that there isn't any fabric to contain it all. In all honesty, you did enjoy the occasional breeze that would waft up your skirt, even if it didn't offer much respite from the sweltering summer heat.

And Daryl is definitely not helping matters, either. He's like a damn furnace, pressed up against the back of your legs, all solid bulk, breathing hot and moist into your skin, every exhale going around the curve of your ass and disappearing between your legs. He knows it the moment that you shift in place, subtly trying to widen your stance even though there is nothing more you want than to rub your thighs together to provide relief to your swollen lips and throbbing clit.

He raises a hand, wide and open-palmed, and smacks your ass. "You're such a fuckin' slut," he grouses. And your first instinct is to gasp at the offense; you hide your grin in a lip bite. Yes, yes you are. And you know it. And he knows it. Your ass cheek jiggles as he gives it another well-aimed slap. "Lookit you," Daryl presses the issue, "drippin' wet." To hammer his point home, he takes a thick, fat finger and runs it along the seam of your cunt.

It glides easily. You shudder, biting back a moan. Your legs shake just a little, but Daryl notices - he always does - and his finger dips inside your lips. The rough, calloused fingertip swipes through your labia, stopping just short of your clit. You whine and he withdraws.

His numerous knives and tools clatter as he abruptly gets up.

"You wanna be fucked, huh?" Voice quiet, Daryl's front presses to your back with a malicious intent. The prominent bulge of his erection is pushing into your back. "Is that why you goin' round naked? So anybody coulda bend you over, anytime, huh?" He reaches around you, hand blindly nosing for your face. When he finds it, he wastes no time in prying your mouth open, sticking the damp finger inside.

Your own cunt, salty and tangy, blossoms on your tongue. The gesture makes you moan around his finger and him- he sticks another one in, keeping you quiet.

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl orders. The rasp in his voice makes your knees buck and your cunt weep and he knows it. His free hand moves at your back, and with the accompanying noises, you come to realise that he's opening his pants and hurrying to free his dick.

When the damp, silky tip touches the bare skin of your ass, your body reacts before you do. Your mouth wraps tighter around his fingers. Spit dribbles from the corners of your mouth and onto his wrist. Your back arches into his body. He is just as scalding as the sun beaming down from the sky.

Daryl pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, holding them there until you gag. The motion makes your whole form spasm and shiver; his cock gives a responding jump of its own.

"Lookit you," he rasps directly into your ear, hot breath tickling the shell of it. "Like a fuckin' bitch in heat," he grabs the meat of your ass cheek, spreading you one-handed. His cockhead noses around the cleft, leaving a sticky trail behind itself. It dips near your cunt, adding your juices to the mix. "You want it so bad."

You do. You really, really do. But you know Daryl is mean. You love it when he's mean to you. When he is proud of the strength of his bulk, when his eyebrows draw tightly over his brilliant blue eyes and nothing, absolutely nothing can escape his predatory stare. You crane your neck, trying to look back at him, to plead with your eyes.

He gets it, because he always does. Daryl's fingers quickly leave your mouth, dragging a wet trail of spit down to your neck where his fingers wrap around it in a secure hold.

"You want it so bad, then fuckin' beg," he says the words and you immediately, greedily descend into the permitted depravity.

"Please, Daryl," your voice sounds hoarse, interrupted by hiccups as you struggle to swallow the saliva that had pooled in your mouth and around his fingers, "please, fuck me. I'll be good. Please."

You feel him fist his cock as it twitches; you can't help it, really, as you arch your back even more and push your ass against his rough hand. Immediately, he withdraws it, just to slap you again.

"You're a bitch in heat," he muses, but you can hear the beginnings of impatience in his voice. "Say it!"

He's never made you do that before. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, you gasp, part shock part offense, until you feel a drop of fluid roll out over the outer lip of your cunt and fall and disappear somewhere below you. Then it's just lust. The kind that tints the whole world red and narrows your field of vision.

"Fuckin' say it!" Daryl demands, patience thin.

You wouldn't put it past him to just shove himself in at this point. "I'm... I'm a bi- I'm a bitch in heat," you hiccup, feeling your face flood with heat. "I'm a bitch in heat, please fuck me!"

You feel his lips tilt up just the tiniest bit against your ear before he reaches back for his cock and aims it at your cunt in a single, precise thrust. You gasp and mewl as he suddenly stops halfway through. Your cunt ripples and flexes and squeezes. Daryl drops his forehead onto your shoulder, panting.

"So fuckin' tight," he murmurs, mostly to himself. You're not - he knows better, he makes sure you're not before he even thinks about sticking it in - but you are. All that blood that went straight to your cunt the moment his breath caught up in his throat at the sight of your bare pussy - It's making your cunt swell all around him.

A pathetic mewl leaves your lips, your satisfaction incomplete. You wiggle, you arch, but Daryl is as unyielding as ever.

"You take what I give you," he growls, teeth bared like an animal against your ear. Nonetheless, you feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. Stars burst in your eyes. You are so full, practically bursting at the seam of your cunt where his fat balls rest against the stretched hole.

Slowly, Daryl withdraws, both of you hissing at the drag of his fat cock in your engorged cunt. You may be a bitch in heat but he's every bit the stud that is just as fervent and feral to breed you. His teeth creak as he pulls back completely, leaving just his weeping tip inside of you.

And then he slams home. And again. And again. And again.

With every powerful thrust of his hips, you gasp. Quiet, pleading moans is the limit of your vocal capacity. Mouth dry, the air gets trapped in the back of your throat as your lungs demand their due.

Daryl is unrelenting. His blunt fingernails drag over the skin of your throat, leaving marks in their wake, as he makes way to your mouth.

"This is what you wanted, slut?" He pants into your hair. "Be quiet. Be really fucking quiet unless you want everybody to see what kinda..." He inhales sharply, feeling your walls flutter at the flith dripping from his tongue.

And it shouldn't make you feel the way you feel. Those fucking words just add more accelerant to the fire in the pit of your stomach, spreading it from there and up, over your face. It flames. Your hand helplessly clutches the nearest surface as you attempt to brace yourself against his thrusts and the notion that anyone could see you.

Bent over something or another, dress hiked up to your waist and Daryl's hips pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace. He didn't bother undressing save for letting his pants hang freely just below his cock and balls. Heavy, fat balls, littered with coarse dark hair, that slap against your cunt and your clit with a resounding smack every time he drives his cock inside of your cunt. The squelching noise it makes is obscene.

Another whine, and your pussy squeezes him once again, blind and hungry for release. You can feel it building steadily, deep within your abdomen.

"Fuck yeah," Daryl growls, "you fuckin' like this, don't 'cha?" He's gotten the hang of it: the dirty talk, he knows exactly how to get under your skin. He's a mean bastard with nothing close to dignity or self-respect. If anyone saw him, rutting into you, little more than two animals, he wouldn't, couldn't stop.

Daryl would stare them down up until his cock swelled and busted, depositing his seed inside your womb.

Your knees feel weak. It's getting harder and harder to keep up with him; seems like every pathetic whimper that leaves your lips only makes him meaner, stronger somehow. The grip of his hand on your hip is bruising. Daryl effectively wears you on his cock, submerging himself into the warm depths of your pulsing cunt over and over.

"Da-Daryl..." You gasp, you moan and you plead.

He doesn't stop. He merely handles you into a different angle, the one that hits that special spot inside of you with every powerful thrust. He is mean, but he is also fair.

"Gonna cream my cock?" He barely makes sense to himself, the words that his dry mouth garbles seem to have a mind of their own. "Gonna be good, girl? C'mon."

"Ah," you want to say yes, you want to affirm, but all that comes out of your mouth are garbled, unintelligible noises of pleasure. But Daryl sees it. It's in the way your arch becomes near-painful, body overtaking your mind. Even the slightest bit of pain blends into hot-blinding pleasure. You don't know where what ends and begins.

It begins somewhere behind your cunt. The contractions start slow and aching, and every punch of his cock to your guts intensifies the feeling tenfold, until every last inch of your cunt is squeezing around him in that same arduous, suckling rhythm. It's like your pussy is nursing at his cock, attempting to suck his life out of him and deposit it into you.

The pleasure is like a wall of fire and water. Your chest blooms with it, but your extremities swarm with pinpricks. Mouth parted in a silent scream, you sway forward, managing to catch yourself on your elbows at the last moment.

The man behind you doesn't care. He's way past caring, having had started chasing his release the moment your cunt enveloped his cock in a vice grip. The meat of it is sensitive and he spends the few inches to the finish line gracelessly mashing it inside of you, accompanied by the sound of wet flesh meeting even wetter, sloppier flesh.

"Take it, fuckin' take it," you hear him gasp through your stupor before that familiar, warm rush floods your cunt. His cock twitches, once, twice, three times, each forceful throb followed up by more and more seed being pumped into the depths of you.

Against your back, Daryl sags and pants out his excerption. Like a dog. His wet nose leaves sweat stains on your back where he nuzzles into you.

Your knees shake as you struggle to hold up his weight, and then your legs completely turn to mush when droplets of his cum escape your cunt as his spent cock slips out. You know you should be worried about stains in unsightly places but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.

Daryl notices this, of course. His bulk slides off you; you hear him quickly shove himself back into his pants before his ass hits the ground with a loud thud. Next to you, of course, his stubbly, prickly cheek rubbing over the skin of your leg. He places a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh, and then another.

You know the drill. It's hard for him to find words, sometimes, after a scene like that. It's the intensity of it, the forceful ejection of him out of his head where he spends most of the time, that renders him speechless. Daryl is forced to feel - good things. It's not something that he is used to.

Your skirt is still around your waist and the hot sun is shooting lasers directly at your ass and pussy. You've managed to get your bearings enough to feel at least a little self-conscious, a little exposed. Your combined fluid still drip from you and for a split second, you think about pulling up your panties to try and at least somewhat contain the mess.

Right, you sigh to yourself. It makes your exhausted body twitch and sag even more.

Daryl gently pushes away your hand that was attempting to pull the dress over your ass. You freeze; he smiles against your skin, a little closed-lipped grin that makes something warm and fuzzy make a nest inside your chest. That quickly turns into a startled gasp as his fingers glide through the mess of your cunt.

You're spent. Exhausted. So sensitive, his rough skin practically hurts on your hole and clit.

But Daryl gets it. You get him, and he - he gets you. His hot breath fans over your pubic hair and it's all the warning you get before he opens his mouth wide, flattens his tongue and licks. You've made a big mess and there is a lot to take care of, but if there's anything about Daryl that you know, is that he's thorough at what he does.

In no time, he's got his tongue shoved down your cunt as far as it would go, curling against your walls, lapping up his and your cum like your pussy is an all-you-can-eat-buffet and what's inside of it is sugar and spice and everything nice.

But it's not enough. It's not anywhere near your clit, or any other place that could make you produce more of the cream he's feasting on. Idly, you think about who's the real bitch in heat here, but push out your hips to meet his face nonetheless. You can be mean too. If you want to.

I don't know what to say for myself

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #female reader #twd smut #not tagging this with norman reedus bc i have posted my face before and I'm not that bold #or am I?

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charliexspring · 26 days

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...tell me who you'd want me to be. do i come off too strong and mess it up? do i laugh too hard or not enough? – katherine li

#heartstopperedit #heartstopper #dailylgbtq #osemanverse #userlix #tuserlucie #usercille #cinematv #tuserrex #userrlaura #usermorgan #*mine #i like pain apparently #i'm sorry #or am i?

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epiclamer · 1 month

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Part 2

“You’re finally awake~”

Sidekick barely registered the voice over the pounding of their heart in their head. They stretched their neck up to try and see whomever had tied them spread eagle to a bed, but could hardly get a glance from their restrained position.

Footsteps resounded through the room until they stopped somewhere near the foot of the bed. The hero-in-training gulped, they were terrified.

“W-Who are you?”

Their capturer huffed a laugh, stepping over to the side of the bed and into the sidekick’s view. “You’ve yet to meet me, darling. I’m a friend of your friend.”

The sidekick pursed their lips in an awkward frown, masking their unease. “By friend, you mean enemy… right?”

The other, presumably Villain (the sidekick guessed), smirked. “I guess you could say that.”

Hot sweat ran down the sidekick’s back and into the soft sheets below them, for some reason their whole body felt hot. Were they drugged? Truth serum-ed? Maybe even poisoned?

“You might have a concussion, I hit you quite hard over the head.” As if on queue, the sidekick felt a sudden sharp sting at the back of their head and for a sickening moment they realized the sweat coating their hair wasn’t actually sweat at all. “I didn’t think you’d be that easy to take down, if I’m being honest.”

The villain shrugged, somewhat amused as they watched the sidekick’s pale face distort in a mix of unresolved emotions. Eyeing their prisoner up and down from their jail cell of a bed with a look Sidekick had only ever been warned about by Hero before.

Sidekick’s mouth opened and closed, searching for something to say, toying with the idea of talking their way out of a torture session. “Y-You know, Hero is still out there. If you’re looking for them, I-I mean you just missed them—”

“Do they teach you to sell out your superiors immediately in hero school? Or is that just your own last ditch attempt to get away scott-free as a coward?”

Sidekick shut up. Villain had a point, they weren’t exactly painting the best picture for their reputation.

The villain grinned, leaning over the bed and placing a hand against the sidekick’s chest. They let their fingers wander as they spoke, “I will say though, coward or not, you sure are putting this body to waste working for that rat of a hero you call your mentor.”

Their second hand crept up along the sidekick’s torso and the criminal didn’t hesitate to begin slowly unbuttoning their dress shirt. Both of their eyes focused on the bits of skin that were carefully being revealed as they worked the lower buttons apart.

Sidekick’s breath hitched, was Villain seriously hitting on them? What were they doing? What was happening? None of Hero’s master classes could’ve prepared them for this moment.

The further down the villain’s hands went the more the sidekick’s heartbeat picked up. They convinced themselves it was because of the torture that was increasingly impending and not the fact that someone as breathtaking as the villain was, was stripping them down.

They began to struggle, pulling subtly—or so they thought—against their bonds, letting the burn from the rope digging into their skin distract them from the villain’s fingers exploring their body.

Pulling back the fabric of their button-up, Villain revealed the hero-in-training to their hungry eyes. Going straight to teasingly tracing their nails into the sidekick’s skin, relishing in their goosebumps and gasps.

“Sweetheart,” Villain’s eyes flicked to Sidekick’s, digging their nails into their fleshy shoulders hard enough to draw blood. “Don’t pull on the ropes, okay? I guarantee you that my knots are more than strong enough to hold, so be a dear and don’t hurt yourself any more than you already have.”

For some reason, Sidekick stopped, they didn’t fight back harder like they were taught. The villain’s eyes were entrancing and their voice was soft but stern, guiding the sidekick’s actions and thoughts with every word they spoke.

Hero had warned them of that.

Villain smiled, pleased with their captive as they continued their soft tracing of skin. Leaving behind angry, red, crescents on the sidekick’s shoulder in their wake. “Hero spoke of you, but they never mentioned how good you look… What a shame.”

Sidekick’s face burned a beet coloured red. “W-What?”

“Well, I would’ve kidnapped you a lot sooner if I had known~” Villain drawled as if it were obvious and Sidekick cursed their lucky genes.

“But enough chit chat,” the criminal brought their hands back to their sides. “Let’s get back to the real reason you’re here…”

And in a second the sidekick’s heart lurched into their throat at the ‘snap’ of switchblade flipping open.

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bucksdaffy · 4 days

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"WHEN they INEVITABLY break up" oh honey bucktommy is endgame, there is no breaking up, they're the IT couple actually, tim told me that himself

#i'm only joking of course #or am i?#ok i'm half joking half serious #but i'm kinda confused when i see such comments #because we literally don't know what's going to happen??#like who told you that?#yeah yeah writing reasons whatever #idc!!!#i'm just a girl #bucktommy endgame may not be real to you but it is to me and oliver #please respect that by using if instead of when #and lose the i word #thank you for your consideration <3 #bucktommy #tevan #kinley #evan buckley #tommy kinard

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togrowoldinv · 7 months

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Heartbeat

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

When Yelena gets in a car accident, you reunite with her and her sister after years of not seeing each other

Note: I love Natasha and I love Yelena so here’s this. Enjoy!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

When you got a call in the middle of the night, you knew it was nothing good. You listened carefully as the doctor told you that your best friend had been in a car accident.

Your brain racked as you tried to think of who that might be. Then she told you her name. Yelena. You haven’t seen her in years, but you are still her emergency contact in her phone. Nothing truly went wrong in your friendship. Just childhood friends who grew apart.

No matter the distance between you, you got in your car and drove to the hospital. Three hours later you pulled into the parking lot. They told you Yelena was still in surgery, so you settled in the waiting room.

That was almost five hours ago now. The doctor enters the room finally. You stand to greet her.

“Yelena is in recovery now,” the woman says. “It’ll be a long road, but she is expected to make a full recovery.”

“Oh, thank god,” you breathe out. “Can I see her?”

The doctor nods and leads you to her room. You take a few deep breaths before you enter. You haven’t seen her in three years, but she still looks like the same girl that you once knew.

Her green eyes open a few moments later. She groans in pain slightly before her attention falls on you. You walk closer to her.

“Y/n?” She asks. You nod. “What happened?”

“You were in an accident,” you explain. “I don’t know many details, but the doctors say you’ll make a full recovery.”

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, and you’re here because?”

“You must have had me listed in your phone as an emergency contact,” you say, shrugging. You really don’t know why.

“Did you call Natasha?” Yelena asks.

Natasha. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about her in years. You always admired her so much and felt so safe in her presence. But she and Yelena didn’t have the easiest relationship. It’s been so long since you last saw the redhead. Close to eight years. You miss her.

“Oh, um, no,” you say. “You two are talking again?”

Yelena nods. That’s good, you think. They need each other to really be happy. That was always the truth.

“I can call her,” you tell Yelena. You make a move to step out of the room, but Yelena reaches out for you.

“Y/n,” Yelena says. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Yel,” you say, tears fill your eyes.

You pull her into a soft hug. You didn’t realize how much you missed her until you held her in your arms. Every memory of your life together passes through your mind as you squeeze her.

“I’m hungry,” Yelena mumbles into your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh. Still the very same Yelena.

“I’ll get you food and call Nat, okay? Be right back.”

You step into the hallway and feel your pulse quicken as you click on Natasha’s name in your contacts. Truthfully, you always hoped Nat would confess her love for you, and you’d live happily ever after. But you never so much have kissed the girl.

The phone rings for a few moments and you begin to wonder if she’ll pick up. Maybe she sees your name and decides not to answer. But your what-iffing stops when Nat answers the phone.

“Hello,” Nat answers. The sound of her voice threatens to make your heart stop.

“Hi- um- hi Natasha,” you say. “I don’t know how to say it so I will just go for it. Yelena was in an accident, but she’s okay. She asked for you, so I called.”

“Where is she?” Natasha asks. You hear some bustling on her end of the line.

“We’re at the hospital.”

“I’m on my way,” Natasha replies. And that’s the end of the call.

You get Yelena some food before you go back to her room. Inside, you catch up with her. Things have been good for both of you. She is an accomplished veterinarian. You knew she would be successful.

You’re laughing about some old joke when Natasha arrives. She walks to Yelena quickly and hugs her sister. You stand back, letting them have a moment. They speak for a moment in Russian before Natasha looks to you.

To your surprise, she rounds the beds and pulls you into a hug. You bury your face in her neck and soak up her touch. She is warm and smells like the fruity hair products she must use. She pulls away but moves her hands to your face.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Natasha says. She always used to call you that. Her thumbs brush over your cheeks. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, Natasha,” you say. You get lost looking into her green eyes. She looks older but in the perfect way.

Yelena coughs to break the moment up between you and Natasha. The older sister drops her hands from your face and turns her attention back to Yelena.

“You should get some sleep, Yelena. That surgery was intense,” Natasha says.

“Such a mom,” Yelena grumbles.

“And a doctor,” Natasha adds. She pulls the covers up Yelena’s body. “We’ll go get some lunch. See you in a bit.”

You follow Natasha out of the room. She knows where to go to the cafeteria, and you put two and two together.

“You work here?” You ask Nat.

“I do,” she replies. “Well, from time to time. I travel for work, but this is technically my home hospital.”

“I didn’t even know you were a doctor,” you say.

“Heart surgeon,” Natasha says. She doesn’t seem phased by how your mouth opens in shock. “What do you do for work?”

You tell Nat about your career and what you’ve been up to. For some reason, it doesn’t feel difficult to talk to her. It’s like no time has gone by. You eat lunch together and continue to catch up.

“I’m glad to see you and Yelena are close again,” you say.

“Yeah,” Natasha says. “I guess last time you saw me Yelena and I were on some rocky ground.”

“You had a big fight. Five years at least of no talking,” you remind her.

“It was six years and four months,” Natasha recounts.

“What happened?”

“The same thing as always, you know. Melina and Alexei. Yelena always keeps things lighter with them, and I was pissed. Until I wasn’t,” Natasha says. “My girlfriend at the time, Wanda, helped me realize how important it was to be talking to my sister.”

“That’s good, Nat. Yel has always needed you to be at her happiest.”

Nat nods. “And she needs you too, y/n. She cried about missing you,” Nat explains.

“I didn’t know that,” you say quietly. Nat scoots her chair closer to yours.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you held her when she cried about me too.”

You did that. Many many times. Nat reaches and takes your hand. She helps you stand up. You follow her down the hallway and into what appears to be a breakroom.

“Did you ever find that person you dreamed about?” Natasha asks.

Her words seem random until you remember the nights you spent with her on the roof of your parents' house. You told her that you dreamed of loving someone and having someone love you back purposefully. She agreed that it was what she wanted too.

“No,” you answer. “Did you?”

“Maybe,” Natasha answers. “But I’m still waiting to see if she loves me back.”

“Oh, well, I hope that she does,” you answer. Nat steps closer to you, and she takes your face in her hands again.

“I hope she does, too,” Natasha says. She leans in, and her lips are inches from touching yours. “Do you love me, y/n?”

“I love you, Natasha,” you whisper.

Natasha’s lips brush against yours softly. You really start to kiss her back when her phone goes off. You wish she would ignore it, but she pulls away.

“Shit,” Natasha says. “It’s Yelena.”

“Does that mean-”

“I’m the cardio surgeon on call,” Natasha says. “Let’s go.”

She leads you out of the breakroom and to the operating room waiting area. Natasha leaves you there as she disappears behind the doors.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #sorry for the ending #or am I?

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