Latest Posts by seera-li - Page 6

Clint: I don’t think we can mansplain, manipulate or malewife our way out this one.

Natasha: *cracks knuckles*

Natasha: Manslaughter it is

oooh what about soft!dark! bucky and nat with ballerina daughter reader?

warnings: INC3ST, dad!bucky x mom!nat x daughter!reader, groping, and breast play. NSFW

DO NOT READ if this offends or triggers you in the slightest, your media consumption is your own responsibility.

Natasha cocked her head at your form, her husband right beside her against the walls of mirror.

She shook her head and huffed. “Turn your other feet a bit more outwards, sweetheart. It’s too inwards.”

You frowned, inching your left feet out in order to fulfil your mom’s demands. You had to. The dance was to be perfect. Of course, you were the Swan Lake, it had to be perfect no matter what. Your mom had been the Swan Lake when she was your age, it was your turn.

This year, both your parents were just in involved in your training and as Natasha shook her head at your failed attempt to fix your feet, she sighed.

“Let’s take a break. We’ll go over this section again tomorrow.” Your frowned turned into a pout when Natasha shook her head. Your eyes went from your mom to the older man beside her, your father’s eyes soft and gentle as he started making his way towards you.

His large arms, wrapped around your shoulder, he towers over you like some giant over a dwarf. “You’re too harsh on her, Tasha.” Your father swayed you in his arms as he held you, arm moving over to your stomach.

“She needs the practice, James.” The redhead inched towards the two of you and soon the pout on your bitten lips disappeared just as your mother ran her knuckles along the apples of your cheek.

“I’m sure she’ll be the best white swan out there.”

You giggled when Bucky dipped his head in the crook of your neck, your eyes settled on your mother’s pursed lips as your father peppered kisses all over your fragile skin.

“I have no doubt.” She said, head tilting gently as she watched the scene unfold. Her husband’s hand splayed over the flat plans of your tummy, while the other travelled further up as Bucky cupped your breast through your leotard. “I just want the very best for you.”

“I know, Mama...” Your head lulled back, eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of your father’s groping hand. You tried to focus but instead, you melted when Natasha’s hand dipped between your legs and under the mesh skirt to rub your cunt through your leotard.

The older woman chuckled, her lashes heavy as she looked up and saw her husband sucking hickeys on the skin of your collarbone while pinching the pebbled nipples through your shirt.

“Just relax, sweetheart.”

Bucky nipped at your neck, while Natasha’s hand was relentless as she hooked the gusset of your body suit to the side.

“You deserve it.”

natasha who’s readers mom and ballet teacher and she’s been spending more time with her other students her and her daughter gets jealous, and maybe it ends in smut?

warnings: mom!natasha x ballet dancer!daughter!reader, inc3st, and groping. NSFW

DO NOT READ if this triggers you. Your media consumption is your responsibility.

Your eyes travelled over to her. She was moving back and forth between students, arms crossed in concentration as she spoke in french, cursing and sometimes scolding the girls for getting their positions wrong.

While another time you would’ve felt the second hand embarrassment, you grinned to yourself in pure content as you watched your fellow dancers be scolded by your own mother.

Now, with minutes nearing the end of class, you were giddy with glee to finish the session. You could come back home with your mother and spend the rest of the day out and about or rather resting with her.

But when the bell rang and the time was up, your mother made no move to budge. You frowned, watched her shake her head as she then huffed at one of the dancers.

“Mama, are you finished?”

She ignored you as she moved to adjust the girl. But when they failed to meet her adjustment, the older woman sighed and shook her head. She then waved off the dancer, along with everyone else as she called for another session to be done tomorrow.

As every dancer moved out of the room, the door closed shut, closing both you and your mother inside. You stood up with excitement, prancing over to the older woman with a grin as you tapped her shoulder.

“Are we to go home now, mama?”

“Give me a moment, dorogaya.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, pushing whatever breasts you had together.

“You said that last time, mama. I want to go home now with you.” Your demands were clear and Natasha could sense the frustration and definite jealousy.

The redhead sighed and then pinched the bridge of her nose before she turned and faced you. She feigned a smile as she did, not wanting to disappoint nor anger you any further.

After all, she just had spent most of her day training the dancers. It was only fair that her love deserved all the attention the redhead could offer.

“You are right, my love.” The redhead nodded, and then inches towards you with open arms. As you welcomed and melted into her hold, her lips caressed the shell of your ear. “Did you miss me too much?”

You nodded as your eyes darted from the closed door. The blinds down and the city lights settled into large windows of the studio. “I did.”

Your mother’s hand falls, from your waist to the curve of your bum through your leotard as it disappears under your mesh skirt.

“Mama, we’re still at school...” You whimper gently when her teeth grazes your skin, barely even nips it as she goes.

Your mother’s teasing touch comes to a halt when her hand nears your warm core, melting and wetting the fabric of your leotard.

She pulls her head away and with a raised brow, she stares at you feigning innocence.

“I thought you wanted my attention?”

title: frfrblackwidowgf’s tiktok drafts

notes: sfw, suggestive content though, fluff, being in a stupid goofy mood with ur superhero gf who is also ur dom gf who’s so sick of ur shit, the mommy sorry tiktok meme (yes this is very targeted)

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no bones

content warnings: no smut but reference to it, also mommy kink, nat comforts you by… being a shitty gf lol

a/n: ive opened 3 word docs to write diff things and its not coming out bc ive been haha sad af so i wrote this mediocre gfs fic, as usual ur both terrible gfs on paper but in practice it… works out actually

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ceo natty making sure no one hurts her (pillow) princess

protective and soft natty pls

implied little!r

a/n: I wasn’t sure if you wanted smut for this, but since you mentioned pillow princess reader I just kinda went with it haha.. also I don’t write little!reader stuff so I just made reader shy and skittish? It fits with the vibe I think so I hope this is acceptable? I spent waaayyy too long on this so apologies for typos and whatever

warnings: 18+, minors DNI; smut; creepy men being creepy (Natasha saves you obvs); masturbation (briefly); fingering (r receiving); possessive Natasha, but she's very loving and soft to R

words: 2.9K

kinktober event. || kinktober masterlist. || main masterlist.

If you had it your way you’d be comfortably in bed in your pajamas, curled up while you watched the new baking show Netflix managed to squeeze out. Preferably in your girlfriend’s arms. The same girlfriend who’d kept you away from your cozy plans tonight.

Going into the relationship, you knew Natasha was a busy person. She was important, the best at what she did even. She was respected for good reason; Natasha worked hard to get where she was, having made it to the point where she didn't have to work another day for the rest of her life, but still she showed up and stayed present. It was safe to say Natasha was a workaholic. And while you were proud of her, you did miss her a lot.

Once it was clear you were serious about dating the slightly older woman, Natasha started to let you in more, but you were still subject to cancellations for "work emergencies" and "necessary work meetings." Eventually she insisted you move in with her, claiming she wanted to spend more time with you, but you had a sneaking suspicion the nights you went out drinking your loneliness with friends and her worry for your well-being had something to do with it too.

Living together was nice, sweet even. You got to sleep next to her each night and sometimes you woke up ridiculously early just to watch her resting face, to look at her face when her features were fully relaxed and free from thoughts of her work. Occupying the same space as Natasha also meant she knew your day to day schedule in and out and she tried to plan around you to get the most time with you, but sometimes things came up.

Things like tonight, some Halloween cocktail gathering for people who mean nothing to you, but everything to the future of business. Talks of stocks, trades, and risky investments flew back and forth while you either nodded half-heartedly or zoned out altogether. Natasha convinced you to come with promises of free drinks and laughing at everyone's stuck-up attitudes together and you reasoned that it might be nice to meet some of the people Natasha grumbled about most evenings at dinner.

Instead she'd left you alone about thirty minutes in and she's been sparse ever since, only seeing her for a moment when she found time to check in on you, twirl a stray hair at your ear and promise she'd be back in a few minutes. You wanted to be mad at the redhead, but mostly you were mad at yourself. It was expected she'd be drawn into conversations; everyone wanted to talk to the alluring Natasha Romanoff.

Occasionally she'd gesture in your direction and smile with a few other people, presumably talking about you and it made you blush every time, the proud grin on her face making you feel like the most important person in the room. No, it was impossible to stay upset with her when she looked at only you in such an uncharacteristically soft way.

So you settled into your little corner and scrolled your phone, nursing your glass of champagne while you waited for the event to end. It grew as comfortable as can be to at least not be bothered by anyone else, but of course that didn't last.

"So whose wife are you?"

The voice was almost weaselly, obviously a little intoxicated from the tinge of slur to his words. You let out a long-suffering breath, annoyed that you were now being bothered in the spot you'd carved out for yourself. "No one's. But I'm here with Natasha."

Any hope that he'd go away with the mention of your girlfriend's name was dashed when he only scooted closer. "Ah, you're her. And she left you here all alone?"

"She didn't leave me. She's busy." He was sitting way too close now, your bare arm brushing his suit sleeve. You didn't like this and Natasha would hate it. But she probably wasn't paying attention; you hadn't caught sight of her for at least twenty minutes and when you scanned the room you didn't find fiery red hair anywhere.

Whoever this man was apparently found your answer funny because he was laughing, his alcohol soaked breath hitting your nose along with an unfortunate spray of his saliva. If you could, you would've bolted, but he'd trapped you in the booth you sat in, his arm stretched out to the table now so even the thought of trying to squeeze by him was impossible. Maybe if you were more outspoken, you'd have yelled or had some scathing remark to send him running, but you remained painfully quiet. You cursed your head for staying empty when all you wanted to do was help yourself out of an excruciatingly uncomfortable situation.

"Seems like she left you, sweetheart. Does she do that a lot? I'd never let you out of my sight. Or my bed even." You felt bile rise in your throat at the insinuation.

So absorbed in your disgust, you didn't notice the looming shadow of a certain redhead cast over the drunk party guest. "I'm sure I didn't just hear what I thought I did." The man before you went pale as a sheet, eyes wide as he turned shakily to face your girlfriend. She had her arms crossed across her chest, staring him down as if she wasn't half his height once he stood up.

While he shook in fear, safety washed over you with her mere presence and something else, something like lust flooding you at the sight of her defensive stance. Natasha always made sure to remind you of your free will, to do whatever made you happy, but you wouldn't deny that her stepping between you and your annoyance made you feel.. protected. Like something you were worth protecting. Lovingly owned.

“What was it you were saying? You’d never let her out of your sight?” Natasha went to step closer, but at some point you’d grasped her hand and held it so she could tug you closer until your head was pressed against her hip. Instinctively, you folded against her side, eyes to the ground because as safe as you felt, looking at him wasn’t a necessity anymore so you wouldn’t. Natasha’s hand came to your head, smoothing out your hair much more lovingly than the rest of her.

The poor man finally grasped how fucked he truly was, eyes darting between Natasha and over to where the rest of the guests were talking to themselves, either unaware of the situation or knowing better than to intercept Natasha. “N-No, I didn’t mean it that way. I would never-!”

“With all of the ‘never’s coming out of your mouth tonight, let me add another one to your list,” You doubted Natasha knew her hand was gripping your shoulder almost painfully now, clutching you impossibly closer as if you’d flee without her grounding you. “Never talk to my girl again. Never look at her, never think about her- nothing. Because if you do, that would be really upsetting to me and I wouldn’t be able to let that slide.” Natasha’s typically deep voice currently held more threatening energy than you’d ever heard. It scared you a bit and you vowed right then you’d try your hardest to never be the subject of her ire.

He fumbled and sputtered, scrambling for absolutely anything to say. There was nothing except, “Yes, Ms. Romanoff. S-Sorry for the confusion.” Natasha’s unwavering stare sent him running with his tail between his legs, making his way across the room as fast as his drunken gait would take him.

As soon as your problem fled, the weight of your situation hit you, tears springing to life in the corners of your eyes. “Natty…” Perfectly manicured nails moved to scratch at your scalp, the motion of her fingers soothing your worries instantly.

“Come on, my love, it’s time to go home, yeah?” Her tone was soft again, the voice reserved for you alone. You nodded her head as you mumbled an apology for ruining her dress with your running mascara, but she shushed you in an instant.

The trip home was a blur and that was alright. Natasha took care of everything, as always, and next time you truly registered your surroundings you were right where you wanted to be: home in bed with your love.

You didn’t know if you’d fallen asleep or not, but when you finally took a peek out of the far off window, it was pitch black outside. Slivers of moonlight were the only light source, just barely illuminating the sleeping features of your girlfriend’s face. Flashbacks of the night’s events played through your mind while you thought of the difference between the public persona of Natasha Romanoff, CEO and ruthless negotiator, and your Natasha, a loving partner and fierce protector. The memory of how hot she looked shielding you from harm made your legs squeeze together, a familiar tightening blooming deep in the pit of your stomach.

There was a slight element of shame tied to having been turned on by the sight of Natasha brutally cutting someone down to size, but she was doing it for you and that’s what stuck in your brain. You knew she would do anything for you, but seeing it was something else. Still, you couldn’t wake her up for just this; you’d needed enough attending that night.

Scooting back down under the blankets until everything but your head was covered, you resigned yourself to taking care of your own problems. Shy hands slid down your body, feeling the curves and slopes of your own form until you reached the top of your thighs. Typically you slept in a short nightgown, a simple pair of underwear your only other layer. Natasha’s request, of course; she loved feeling your skin against hers while you slept. Tonight was no exception and you were grateful, less fabric to contend with as your fingers slipped past the thin elastic waistband.

It felt naughty almost to have your hand buried between your legs while your girlfriend slept unaware mere inches from you, but you didn’t want to bother her and as one finger purposely just barely brushed your clit, you doubted she would want to deny you such pleasure. You gasped aloud when your fingers reached your entrance, surprised at how fast you’d grown so wet, but images of Natasha’s hardened expression had you clenching around just the tips of your digits.

“I’m not that deep of a sleeper, just so you know.” Natasha’s words held amusement so she wasn’t mad, but still you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes.

Reluctantly you pulled your fingers away, wiping them on your thigh as if that would erase what you were so clearly doing. “Sorry, Nat.. I just-” But she was on you before you could finish that thought, bringing you flush against her as she swallowed your worries in her kiss. Her grip on your waist was bruising and while you still squirmed, the possession in her hold was exactly what you wanted.

Still laid on your side, Natasha pulled away just enough to look at you, your skin still clearly flushed even in the darkness of the bedroom. She maneuvered your nightgown over your hips, cupping your core in her strong palm, “Poor girl, you were bad enough off that you wanted to take care of it yourself?” It was true, it was bad; usually you asked Natasha for anything, once she’d had you, nothing compared to her touch and while she didn’t have a rule about seeking relief without her, you rarely ever did. It was never as good; she’d long since ruined you for anyone else, including yourself. “You know I would be happy to help.”

Her hand ground the soaked fabric against your sensitive folds, a clear tease just to watch you moan. She could’ve done it by now, nudged the fabric aside and plunged her fingers into you, but she didn’t. And it was on purpose. “Please, Natty?” As much as she loved you and wanted your constant happiness, she had to have some of her own- it happened to manifest in loving hearing you ask for her. There was no greater rush for Natasha knowing you were fully capable of doing things yourself, but still you relied on her. Because you needed it to be her. “Please touch me, keep me- protect me.”

That was all the pleading she needed, her free hand winding about your waist and pulling until your chests were touching. Her other arm was wedged between you now, but there was enough space for Natasha to manage, ridding you of your underwear and immediately bringing her fingers to bare skin, sliding easily through your folds. You whined at her broad strokes, touching just enough to rile you, but slow enough not to get you anywhere. “You’re so wet, and all of this is for me?”

You nodded your head against the pillows, fighting the urge to close your eyes; Natasha liked it when you looked at her. “Just for you, I’m yours, just yours…” Carefully, you started to ride Natasha’s hand, grinding against her palm desperately for any type of relief. The surface was too flat, it was her, but not what you needed and it was getting borderline painful how needy you were.

Natasha only smirked, pleased with your admission, but all too smug about how little she had to do for you to be getting off so wantonly on her open hand. Normally she’d make a show of it, make you wait until you cried out for her, but you’d had a long day so she relented. “Is this what you want?” Two fingers sunk into you humiliatingly easily, stretching your hot sex with an expert touch. Her satisfaction grew with the sound of your moan, settling into a steady pace with her thrusts. “Did you like it earlier when I came to save you?” The reactive clench around her digits was a good enough answer for her. When she curled them, your body curled with them back arching as she hit the spot you never managed to hit yourself. “Do you know why I did that?”

“N-No-” Of course Natasha knew how much you’d enjoyed her little show of possession earlier, one twitch of your jaw and she knew what was going on with you. Being known so intimately down to your very core sent a shiver down your spine and you were dangerously close to losing it now. Your hips moved in time with her hand, yearning for the high you’d tried unsuccessfully to chase on your own.

“Because you’re mine.” She maneuvered you both so that you were straddling one of her thighs, sinking deeper onto her offered fingers. Far beyond caring, your forearms settled on either side of her, close enough to breathe each other’s air while you rocked yourself back in earnest. “And I always take care of my things, don’t I?” The question was punctuated with a kiss to the corner of your open mouth, “I’m the only one who gets to see or touch you like this, I’ll make sure of it.”

Carefully chosen words brought you unknowingly higher, Natasha whispering things you were sure you’d only expressed in your wildest dreams. You rocked forward against the base of her wrist fruitlessly for any type of friction, whining at the lack of pressure. She’d been so giving tonight, surely she wouldn’t deny you just one more thing, “Nat.. Nat.. Tasha, I need-” You tried to explain what your voice couldn’t with a particularly obvious movement into her hand and Natasha’s low chuckle in your ear told you she was already well aware of your needs. “Please?”

A devious thumb made its way to your sorely neglected clit, positioning it just so. Somehow Natasha made sense of your frantic actions, pistoning her hand in time with you. “There you go, take what you need. I’m the only person who can do this for you, aren’t I?” Strained noises of agreement were music to Natasha’s ears, her lips trailing down your neck to mark you further lest you forget for a moment you’re hers alone. “Fuck yourself on my fingers. I want to see you.” Your legs clamped vice tight around hers, ass pressed against her thigh as it propped you from wiggling too far away from her.

The sensations were going to be the death of you, filled with Natasha, mouth latched to that perfect spot in the hollow behind your ear, her free arm slung around your waist to make certain you didn’t stop riding her. You were so close, chasing your high with what Natasha would remember as a whorish moan. Eventually you came with a screaming cry of her name, back arching into her prone form because in some tactical way, she could still be in full control while she laid under you.

When you finally came down, you let your top half sink, arms limp as your head fell onto her chest. Her fingers left as carefully as they could, but still you whined, more from the sudden emptiness than any pain. You felt blissfully numb, sleep already threatening at the edges of your consciousness. “Thank you, Tasha… for protecting me and also.. yeah.” Already hot cheeks burned at your sudden salacious display, but Natasha craned her neck to press a kiss to your messy hair and you let your words float away.

“You only ever have to ask, sweetheart… I’m sorry I left you all alone today.” She spoke softly to preserve the moment, pulling the blanket tighter over you before you could even possibly start to get cold. But you were already gone, drifting away to dreamland and tucked safely in Natasha’s arms. Safe and sound as always.

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝

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the hotel on cadaver street blurbs masterlist

serial killer!natasha x reader

this is a dark fic: please refer to the disclaimer

summary ➞ “you act like you’re ashamed of me but you’re soaked through your clothes and it’s not because of the rain.”

disclaimer ➞ strong language, depictions of murder + blood, smut, possessive behavior, knife kink, dirty talk (praise + pet names), hints of power bottom!reader + service top!natasha, fingering

a/n ➞ nothing else compares to my love from serial killer!natasha. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3

Natasha had never been one to panic. Or frighten, even. She was a sadist whose identity had been incised by years of watching her own innocence fall away from her until there was so little humanity left that she really didn’t know if she counted as human.

So, to put it simply, it wasn’t fear that made her bones quake as she listened to the high-pitched squeak that the hotel’s basement door emitted as it opened - it was excitement.

She could hear you stall at the top of the stairs and figured it was due to the smell of blood catching your senses. Her heart - assuming she still had one - pounded in retaliation to the metal door clanking shut and the creaks of old wood under your rain-soaked footsteps that followed.

Naturally, when your feet planted onto the cement flooring, your eyes landed on her. She met your gaze, emerald headlights flashing back at you in the dark. Then, as her hand circled tighter around her knife’s handle and knuckles popped under the pressure of her grip, your eyes fell away to the pools of blood surrounding her feet.

She was proud of the horrors she had committed. If you would have opened your mouth to ask her why she had done it, she would have said it was ‘for you’ or ‘in your honor’.

The shell of a man that lie limp on the floor behind her was cold now, lost of whatever warmth had surged through his veins only hours ago. But those hours ago, he had been a lonely shadow at the end of the bar who sat a little too close to you and let his hand longer a little too long at the small of your back and let his lips get a little too eager at the lobe of your ear as your girlfriend watched from across the room.

If Natasha was sane, now would be the time that she’d start spewing with apologies and excuses as to why she’d committed such a crime. But Natasha wasn’t sane; it wasn’t the first time she’d done this and it would take a trip to hell and back for her to apologize for anything. She was always right in her own mind.

Instead, she blinked at you with hollow eyes for a number of moments as you took in the sight of her and then her lips curled into a lopsided smirk. She stepped towards you with her knife raised at her side.

Your hand shot up in an attempt to halt her steps, “You’re dirty.” She scoffed your words, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she continued her voyage towards you.

“Natasha, you’re dirty.” You repeated in annoyance when her chest collided into your outstretched hand. The blood on her shirt was warm still, coating the palm of your hand in a sea of red and you frowned before using her suit jacket to clean yourself off.

She didn’t care much for your distaste and was on you before you had the chance to do anything about it. Her head fell into the crook of your neck to nibble at your pulse point, “You like me this way.” You sucked in a puff of air through your teeth, grabbing her by the swells of her shoulders. “You’re covered in blood, Natalia!”

She smiled into your flesh at the harsh use of her real name, tongue stroking up the side of your throat and flicking against the shell of your ear. “I did this for you. That bastard was bothering you and I fixed it.” You could feel the tip of her knife graze against your stomach.

There was a lot about the situation that should have alarmed you; the blood, the crazed look in your girlfriend’s eyes, the body that you were sure was lingering somewhere in the shadows behind her. But the blade carving against the bottom hem of your shirt was not one of them.

Clink. One of your buttons went spiraling across the cement floor as she cut it free from the fabric; followed by another, and another. “I did this for you.” She repeated, softened and low as she felt the goosebumps that she had already known would rise onto your skin.

“You need to be more careful.” You cooed as you finally gave into her game and your hand found it’s place in the hair at the back of her head, fingertips massaging at her scalp. “You’ve made a mess.” You gestured at the blood behind her and the footprints from the bottoms of her boots

She didn’t mind the mess, or bother to acknowledge that you had even said anything about it. She popped the last button from your top and let it fall open to reveal you the unmarked skin of your stomach. “So pretty, my girl is.” She hummed in satisfaction, the cold metal of the blade dipping into the valley of your bellybutton.

“Thank you, baby.” You cooed, stretching your stomach towards her as the knife prodded against your skin. Her stomach leapt excitedly at your silent invitation to continue before she moved the weapon down, carefully and erotically slow, until it was slicing away at the zipper of your pants and opening the fabric to her.

Her free hand dipped into your underwear and she bathed in the breathy moan you rewarded her with when her fingers parted through your folds. “You act like you’re ashamed of me but you’re soaked through your clothes and it’s not because of the rain.” The smirk was clearly painted in her words.

Your hand came forward and wrapped around her jaw, forcing her to meet your eyes, “How about you stop talking and make it up to me proper?” You encouraged, tongue peaking out to lash against her parted lips.

She shivered and parted ways with the knife, letting it loudly clatter to the ground in harmony with your shuttered whimper as her fingers sunk into your cunt. “Gonna make you feel so good, butterfly.”

Nat to Y/n: Why are you crying?

Y/n: Shows Nat her phone*

Y/n to Wanda: Wanna hang out..

Wanda: I can’t tonight

Y/n: oh thats fine!

Wanda: Hey vis, I’m bored wanna come over? ;)

Y/n: ..

Wanda: Shit, Y/n I’m sorry..

Y/n: It’s okay :)

Casual dating

Pairing: Natasha x reader

Word count: 2795

Genre: fluff/a lillllll bit of angst

Request: yes

Warnings: slight mention of eating disorder + over exercising

A/n: I HAVE RETURNED. Just when you thought you had gotten rid of me I jump right back like a boomarang. Fun fact, we had a boomarang and I wasn't allowed to throw it because it was 'decorative' or something so I pushed a chair over to where it was hung on the wall, smuggled it out to my garden and threw it. It didn't come back to me but its probably because my technique was off right? It also has a tiny dent in the back where I threw it too hard and it bounced on the apple tree.

You and Natasha were casually dating. It's what you had both agreed because why put a label on something when it might not even last due to busy schedules? It was a mutually shared idea that had popped up on the second date.

The two of you were sitting, eating candy floss with a large stuffed bear sitting between the two of you.

"Nata-"

"So I've bee-" You both started to speak at the same time, laughing gently when you realised what you had done.

"You go." You said.

"No it's okay. You go first."

"Okay... How do you feel about all this?" You waved your hand between the two of you, accidentally hitting the bear over the head.

"It's nice. It's good." Natasha said. "I don't think I want to..." She trailed off, biting the inside of her lip as her eyes darted about slightly. She was nervous.

"Label it?"

Natasha's eyes were drawn back to you, her head hung a little in shame as she slowly nodded.

"Thank god." You breathed out, tension releasing from your shoulders. "Me neither. I'm happy with just casual dating."

"Exactly!" Natasha was a lot more animated once she realised her views were shared. "Besides, I'm an avenger and you're an agent, it's easier if we keep it casual so we don't feel pressure to constantly be with each other."

"I'm so glad you said that! I've been stressed about this since you first asked me out on the first date." You smiled easily, the both of you content to not force yourselves into a relationship.

~~~~~

That was 3 months ago and in that time you had been on one other date. Sometimes you wondered if the reason you were both so happy to not get into a serious relationship all those nights ago was because neither of you had anything to base a stable relationship off of. Your parents were emotionally distant and so you became hyper independent from a young age. Of course it was nothing compared to Natasha's experiences in the Red room but it certainly wasn't a walk in the park. In fact, if you really thought hard, you couldn't think of one real relationship you had been in. Sure you dated, had sex, and led people on for a mission but you had never had someone to call your own, never had a significant other. Hell, you didn't even really know what your sexuality was because of the lack of real relationships you had. While you had only had one other date with Natasha, it didn't stop you from being tangled in each other's limbs at least twice a week. You had a free day and you were sure Natasha did too so you sent her a quick text asking if she wanted to go out that evening, or even afternoon, before getting back to training.

You had finished your training session 3 and half hours later and still had no answer. You figured you must have read her schedule wrong which was entirely possible considering you literally just glanced at it. You chugged some water as you made your way to the showers. It was there that you saw a flash of red hair and you followed it.

"Hey Nat."

"Y/n"

"Did you get the text? I was wondering if you wanted to go out on another date tonight."

Natasha let out the tiniest sigh and you watched her tense up. You thought that she probably didn't want you to notice but you did. You bit the inside of your cheek, maybe you were being too needy. Yes. Definitely too needy.

"Actually never mind! Enjoy your shower." You spun on your heel and got into a shower.

~~~~~

You thought about the interaction the whole way home, hearing your phone buzz multiple times but ignoring it because you were a nice, safe, driver. Well that and because SHIELD had fitted a black box into your car after you got one too many speeding tickets. Those totally weren't your fault though, you had to save the cat. The fines for knocking off the occasional cyclist might have been a little more your fault. You grabbed your phone as soon as you were parked and saw that the messages were from Natasha and they weren't all that nice.

The other spider: we literally just went on a date a few weeks ago

The other spider: I thought this was supposed to be casual dating

The other spider: cause this doesn't seem very casual to me.

You felt your chest tighten unexpectedly as your eyes began to burn the tiniest bit. You clenched your jaw. You survived two parents who didn't want a child and multiple near fatal injuries.

Y/n: You're right. I'll see you Monday.

There was no way you were spending your Friday night in.

~~~~~

One of the benefits of being a super secret agent, was the lean body you were forced to have. Now, don't misunderstand, you hated working out with a passion. It often reminded you of a dark time in your past where you would over-exercise and under eat because all you could see in the mirror was someone that wasn't really there. It wasn't even that you thought you were overweight, you just wanted to see how slim and muscular you could go.

Still, when your physique meant you could get a date in less than 12 hours, you were inclined to be a little kinder to yourself. His name was Dave? Darron? Derrick? It didn't matter. He was hot and you were bored. You had arranged to meet at a small diner you had never been to before. Yes, you knew it was a little more dangerous but you had most likely killed men bigger than him with little more than a lanyard so you figured you were pretty safe. The date itself was rather boring but it did the job and got you out the house. The was nothing particularly wrong with the man, if anything he was rather sweet. He didn't seem to realise his good looks and you wondered if he had only recently grown into them. He was the perfect gentleman and in a different life, you could see him making you happy. Seeing Peter and MJ was rather cute too. Peter blushed profusely when he saw you there too but you just laughed, patting him gently on his back when he made you promise not to tell Mr Stark.

You left the diner with no intention to go on a second date.

~~~~~

It was Saturday evening, two weeks after the date with Darren? and you were bored again. Natasha had been on a mission all week and so you sent her a text, asking if she wanted to have a chill drive-in date. You added on the end that there was no pressure if she was too tired.

You were left on seen.

You weren't too sure why you kept trying with Natasha. If it had been anyone else, you would have gotten the message and fucked off. Maybe it was because Natasha was a woman? Maybe you were only attracted to women. With this newfound need to test out your hypothesis, you got back on your phone.

This time, it took you 5 hours to find someone to go on a date with. The sayings weren't wrong, lesbians really do move fast. You were dressed up and ready to go, having both decided to meet at a local coffee shop only a few blocks away from the SHIELD agency. This was done strategically as you were technically supposed to be working but it was your lunch break so fuck 'em. Sophie? Sandra? Sapphire? was nice. She laughed at your jokes and told jokes that made you laugh too, she insisted to pay and pouted when you snuck your card over the card reader. You were having a fun time and didn't notice a pair of green eyes burn into you. You cut the date shorter than your counterpart would have liked but you were already running late for work.

Perhaps it wasn't the gender, perhaps it was the fact none of them were ex-assassins with fiery red hair and a personality to match. Perhaps you couldn't remember any of their names because they weren't called Natasha.

Once again, you had no intention of going on a second date.

~~~~~

The change in Natasha was noticeable. Perhaps only noticeable to Clint and possibly Tony, but it was noticeable. She was quieter but not in her normal brooding spy way. She was a loud sort of quiet. The kind of quiet you are when you have millions of thoughts buzzing about your head. Natasha had many more than millions of thoughts and none of them were nice. She knew what casual dating entailed and she knew you were more than within your right to date someone else, as was she, but the burn when she saw you with Sophia made her feel sick. Natasha didn't like people eating her cereal, she didn't like people stealing her weapons and she most certainly didn't like people having you. As a person who grew up with barely any possessions, it had made Natasha jealous and possessive. Normally she could hide it. Normally it was over normal things, like socks. But normally, it didn't involve people. She was confused. She was overjoyed when you felt the same way about casual dating but seeing you with someone else made her feel a possessiveness that she hadn't felt since Stark had tried to take the last serving of golden boulders. She knew you weren't a cereal, that you were a person but when she saw you with someone else, all she could think was how much you were hers.

~~~~~

You were invited to a Stark party by an anonymous source. You had little to no idea who it could be. If it was Natasha, she would have just texted you and you weren't very close to any of the other Avengers. You didn't really care though, just happy to let loose as everyone knew that Stark's parties were infamous for their freeing atmosphere.

Turns out, the anonymous source failed to mention it was a rather intimate party with only the core Avengers, Maria, and Carol. You wondered, as you scanned the room quickly, whether or not it was too late for you to sneak back out. Unfortunately it was as Peter spotted you and enthusiastically waved you over to the group.

"Y/n! You made it!" Peter's exclamation made Natasha's head snap around.

"Shouldn't you be studying for a test?"

"Shouldn't you be going to less shady places for dates?"

You raised an eyebrow. Oh. So spidey boy wanted to play did he? You gave him a smug smirk and watched as he realised what he had just said "And how do you know about the shady places I go on dates young Peterson?"

"I- um- well-"

"How many other 'dates' have you been on?" Perhaps if Natasha was in a better state of mind, she would have asked it with a faux nonchalance but she was far too hurt for that.

"What's with the inverted commas? They were dates." You were a little upset that Natasha didn't think you were going on real dates.

"Sure."

"What, don't believe me?"

Natasha let out a short breath of air "No."

Your jaw clenched in a way that Natasha found delicious and she found herself momentarily forgetting why you were arguing until she then remembered that others may have seen your clenched jaw and thought the exact same thing she just thought. It made her blood boil ten times hotter than it already was.

"I thought you guys were dating?" Steve said, confusion written all over his face.

"Casually. Although right now, it doesn't seem very casual to me." You threw back the words that Natasha had texted you all those weeks ago, putting a little bite into them.

Natasha visibly tensed up as she realised just how neglectful she had been. She thought back to all the times you had asked her out and it made her feel sick. Her face slid from shock, to realisation, to guilt, to sadness all within a matter of milliseconds before finally resting on careful neutrality. "Well maybe we shouldn't casually date anymore."

"Just what I was thinking." You were not, however, thinking the same thing. Natasha meant it as 'we should stop casually dating so you can be my girlfriend and I can leave my mark all over you so no one ever even thinks of you without realising you're not single again' and you meant it as 'we should stop casually dating because you're slowly ripping out my heart and it's scaring me because you don't feel the same way I do.'

Normally, Wanda kept others thoughts from wandering into her head but she was a little more than slightly tipsy and both your thoughts were very loud.

"Wait nooo." Wanda's words slurred together as she grabbed your wrist, stopping you from getting up. She tugged you, trying to get you to lean closer but underestimated her strength, causing you to fall into her.

Natasha let out the most animalistic sound you had ever heard from a human. You had never heard anyone growl before and Natasha had never done it before but she was too mad to even realise what she had just done.

"Relaxxxx. I'm fixing it." Wanda waved Natasha off "Who do you think invited them anyway?"

You looked at Wanda in confusion. "But we don't even know each other."

"No." Wanda giggled. "But Peter and Clint were worried and Tony was sick of walking on eggshells around Natasha and Steve was tired of not knowing what was going on and-"

"Okay" You laughed, cutting her off. "What's your point sweetheart?"

"Natasha lovessss youuuu" Wanda giggled, her head rolling back as she looked up at the ceiling. "Come on guyssss its time for the birdies to sort themselves out."

"Birdies?" Thor looked over at her in confusion. "There are no birds here."

"She means lovebirds Thor." Carol laughed.

"How does a woman who's spent less time here than you know more?" Maria laughed as she ushered the others out, grabbing Carol's hand.

You looked over at Natasha once they had all left. "...What?"

"I thought we were saying we shouldn't casual date anymore?"

"Well me too."

"So why were you all over Wanda like a rash?"

"...I'm sorry, what? When you said 'no more casual dating', what did you mean?"

"Well I was asking you to date me properly, so I could be your girlfriend... What did you think I meant?"

"I thought you meant we had to stop doing this."

"Oh."

You both sat there in silence until you realised that your silence could be interpreted as not wanting to have her as your girlfriend.

"That's much better than what I was thinking."

Natasha gave you a light smile, her eyes searching yours for any signs that you might be lying.

You knew that she might need some encouragement to show her that you were telling the truth so you continued. "I want to see you most days. I want to label this."

"I want to see you every day Y/n. I want to wake up next to you and fall asleep next to you. When I saw you with Sophia..."

"Who?"

Natasha looked at you blankly. "What do you mean 'who'? The woman you were out with at the coffee place."

"So that was her name..."

"I seriously cant believe you... I literally stalked that woman and her family and you didn't even remember her name!" Natasha looked exasperated.

"...Well she wasn't you..."

Natasha closed the space between you until you were both inches away from each other. "Can I kiss you?" You nodded as she surged forwards and captured your lips with hers.

It was vaguely strange that she asked for permission this time when you had kissed each other so many times before. You only realised why, when you noticed that the pace of this kiss was different. It was slower, like she was taking her time memorising every little line on your lips and every tiny ridge in your mouth. Natasha asked permission because it was her strange, completely Natasha way of asking if you were okay with her. With being in a relationship. You melted instantly and your heart swelled. It was then that you realised that no matter how badly your parents had fucked you up, how badly the Red room had fucked up Natasha, that the two of you had found each other and were prepared to heal together.

Detour

Summary: A trip to the beach seemed like the perfect way to spend the day off with your girlfriend.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: swearing, fingering, car sex

A/N: Um, so I have two angst fics that I half wrote this week but instead of finishing those I wrote this today. Thanks brain.

The wind whipped through your hair as the car sped along the road, windows down and the hot summer air filling your lungs. The radio was on, the sounds of a pop song cutting through the roar of the wind as you nodded your head absentmindedly to the beat.

You cast your eyes out the open window, watching the landscape rush past you, the green and blue blurring together as the engine hums underneath you. You can smell the salt in the air, the seaside scent comforting as you close your eyes and breathe deeply.

“Whatcha thinking about, baby?” you open your eyes at the sound of Natasha’s voice, smiling as you look over at her.

She’s sitting in the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel in one hand while the other rests between your own. The corner of her mouth has lifted into a smile as she quickly glances over at you, her green eyes twinkling in the sunlight streaming into the car. She’s breathtaking and you fight the urge to pinch yourself, once again finding it hard to believe that this goddess of a woman was yours.

“Nothing,” you reply as her eyes shift back to the road in front of you, “just enjoying this moment.”

She hums in response, slowing down as you approach a set of traffic lights. Her hand leaves yours momentarily as she prepares to turn the corner and you can’t help but pout at the loss. As the car rolls to a stop at the red light she looks over at you again, warmth blooming in your chest at the tender look in her eyes.

“I love you.” The simple sentence has your heart racing, the sincerity in her tone never failing to surprise you, despite hearing the words fall from her lips hundreds of times before.

“I love you too,” you lean over pressing a quick kiss to her lips just as the light changes colour and she turns the car onto the coastal highway.

The two of you had decided to take a trip to the beach today, taking advantage of the good weather and a rare day off. You had loaded enough picnic food to feed a small army into the back of the car and set out before the rest of the team had woken up, wanting a day for just the two of you.

You love how relaxed the day felt already, the casual way Natasha leaned in her seat as she drove, the tension absent from her shoulders for once. Today you weren’t two Avengers who were responsible for saving the world. Today you were just two girls in love who were responsible for no one except each other.

You look back out the window, watching as the ocean comes into view. The waves are calm, sunlight bouncing off the water making it look like it was filled with shimmering diamonds. The gentle sway of the car as it moves with the winding road is comforting and at this moment you feel happy and content.

You feel Natasha’s hand rest on your knee, something she often did while she drove. You smile to yourself, still watching the horizon as you sigh contentedly. Natasha’s thumb begins to stroke absentmindedly on your skin, the action causing your stomach to clench slightly.

You stay that way for a few minutes, the car comfortably silent except for the soft sounds of the radio playing. You close your eyes once more, the sun warming your face and the movement of the car beginning to put you to sleep.

When Natasha shifts her hand, her fingers marginally inching up your bare thigh, your eyes snap open. You turn to face her, breathing picking up slightly but her expression is impassive. She’s giving nothing away and you’re sure that she doesn’t even realise the effect her simple action is having on you.

You feel the arousal pooling between your legs and you shift lightly in your seat, trying not to give it away. You didn’t want to face the teasing from your girlfriend when she realised how easy she could turn you on.

Her hand stalls about halfway up your thigh, fingers flexing tightly against the muscle as she guides the car around a bend in the road. Her fingers are spread over your thigh, the tips brushing against the sensitive skin on your inner thigh which only makes your situation worse.

As the road straightens out again, Natasha’s hand begins to climb once more. You know she must be aware of what she’s doing now, her hand moving with more purpose as it nears the apex of your thighs. You catch the smirk on her face as she stares ahead, her grip on the steering wheel tightening ever so slightly.

“Tease,” you mutter under your breath and her smile only widens, her eyes flicking to you briefly.

“I’m only a tease if I don’t follow through,” she promises, her fingers tracing soft patterns on the inside of your thigh causing you to squirm in your seat.

She reaches the hem of your dress, dragging it up your legs as her fingers climb higher. You shift, moving your knees further apart as she finally reaches where you want her most. Her fingers press against you through your panties, causing you to gasp out loud at the contact. You know she can feel how wet you are already, the material damp from your arousal.

“Soaked for me already,” Natasha grins proudly, finger hooking into the elastic of your underwear and snapping it against your skin.

“Off,” she commands as you jump from the sting of the material springing back against your skin.

You don’t need to be told twice, lifting your hips to drag them down your legs and kicking them off quickly. Once they’ve been removed completely you sit back in the seat, opening your legs as wide as the space allows to give Natasha unobstructed access to your heated flesh.

She wastes no time, fingers dancing back up your thigh and running through your slick folds. You fumble for something to grab onto as her finger circles your clit slowly, one of your hands clutching the door desperately. The other finds it’s way to Natashas leg, fingers digging into the flesh as she begins a torturous pace with her finger.

She grunts at the unexpected contact, the sound shooting straight to your core and making your thighs tense. Her fingers begin to dip lower now and you whimper at the loss of friction on your clit, sinking into your seat further as you throw your head back against the headrest.

“Shhh,” Natasha coos, “I’ve got you.”

You whimper again at her words but it quickly turns to a moan as she slides one finger past your entrance, sinking deep into you until her knuckles are brushing your skin. You shift your hips, trying to draw her even deeper as she pulls back before thrusting into you again.

“Oh fuck, Nat,” you cry out, eyes clenching shut as you draw in a shuddering breath. “Please don’t stop.”

“Oh, I’m not stopping until I make you cum over my fingers,” her voice is low and sultry as her finger continues to slide in and out of you, curling and hitting the right places.

Her words only make you needy with want, wishing for nothing more than her promise to come true.

“More,” you gasp, hips moving against her hand as she fucks you slowly.

On her next thrust, she adds a second finger, the stretch making you cry out her name loudly. She sets an even pace, eyes still focused on the road as if she wasn’t dragging you towards your orgasm quickly.

You’re thankful the road is mostly empty, an occasional car speeding past you as you try and keep your voice quiet, not wanting to alert anyone through the open window to the way your girlfriend had her hand buried between your legs.

“I’m c-close,” you gasp out as you grind against her, the heel of her hand rubbing against your clit, “Nat, I-I’m going to-”

Your sentence is cut off by a loud moan as she curls her fingers again, the feeling pulling you even closer to the edge. You know you won’t last much longer, the pleasure becoming almost too much.

“Fuck, baby,” you hear Natasha groan, “I want to watch you so bad.”

You don’t answer her, you’re not sure you can if you even tried. Instead, you moan loudly again, hips working frantically against her hand as you chase your release. You feel it building, your walls clamping down on her fingers tightly as you feel yourself reaching the peak. Just a few more seconds and-

Suddenly, Natashas fingers are gone, making you whine at the loss. Your hips are still moving, seeking the friction you had moments before as your orgasm quickly fades. Your eyes snap open, noticing that you had turned off the main road.

Your breathing is erratic but it’s nothing compared to Natasha’s, her chest heaving as she manoeuvres the car down an unmarked dirt road, pulling over behind the cover of trees once you’ve driven a few hundred yards away from the road.

“Nat, what-” you try to ask but she’s already thrown the car into park, looking over at you with a feral look in her eyes that has your question dying in your throat.

She leans over you, hand diving back between your legs as she thrusts three fingers inside you, her free hand gripping your chin as she forces you to meet her hungry gaze.

“I needed to watch you fall apart,” she growls, resting her forehead against yours. “I needed to see the look on your face as you cum around my fingers.”

Your orgasm is building again, racing up as she pumps her fingers into you quickly, thumb reaching up to flick over your clit firmly. You close your eyes, gasping for breath as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Open your eyes, I want to see you,” she commands before her voice softens, “can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

You nod against her, eyes fluttering open. Her green eyes still look hungry as she watches you but there is a tenderness there as well. You know you won’t last much longer as you pant against her lips.

“Please,” you whisper, not even sure what you’re asking for.

Natasha knows though, she always does. On her next thrust, she twists her wrist slightly, fingers grazing along the spot inside you that has you falling apart around her. You grip her shoulder tightly as you fight to keep your eyes open, riding out your release in the quiet car.

“That’s it,” Natasha murmurs as she guides you through your orgasm, the aftershocks ripping through you as her fingers begin to slow.

Finally, once the waves of pleasure subside, Natasha presses a gentle kiss against your lips as she withdraws her fingers. You watched through heavy eyes as she brings her fingers to her mouth, her tongue darting out to clear the arousal that coated them.

“Holy shit,” you gasp as you try to catch your breath while Natasha pulls your dress down to cover your legs again, “that was a nice surprise detour.”

“Oh no,” Natasha replies as she shifts the car into drive, moving back toward the main road. “I’ve been thinking about that all morning. Why do you think I told you to wear a dress?”

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AU where R discovers that her lover Natasha isn't actually a secret agent, but a very prolific serial killer.

Aren't We All Sinners

Pairing: soft!dark Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: violence, deaths, use of good girl, infidelity, Nat is soft!dark and a serial killer—it would be as you expect. soft!dark warrants 18+ but there is no explicit sexual or extreme gore/violent content.

Note: Damn—not you sending a really good prompt in and making me write more than a drabble for this LMAO I really enjoyed this one!

Count: ~2.1K

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Natasha Romanoff lives a quiet life in the suburbs.

She's the nice neighbor who gets along with everyone in the community, the one who helps you if she sees you struggling to carry all your groceries in. She says hi to new residents and offers refreshments for her delivery workers.

Everyone loves Natasha Romanoff, who's kind, charming, and soft-spoken.

Even you.

Especially you.

How could you not love her?

She's your friend, your confidant, your safety, your lover—your affair.

Natasha Romanoff was your secret.

"I'm sorry."

You apologize to her every time you see her. You can't help it. You know you're a detriment to her, maybe the most painful thing she has ever loved, but you can't stop.

"S'kay," Natasha muttered against your lips as she pulled you close, feeling the curve of your back and plumpness of your lips. "I want you no matter what."

And Natasha never fails to make you feel wanted. She dotes on you, knows when to be tender and when to be rough, and looks at you like you're the only thing in her world.

You couldn't really understand why. You were so...you. You were neither unnoteworthy nor extraordinary. Just you.

Until you discovered an odd creak in the floors in Natasha's bedroom when you moved her rug to vacuum.

Inside, you found passports and fake IDs. Some were hers. Some weren't.

"I'm in witness protection," Natasha admits with her lips pursed and sorrow in her eyes. "I used to work for the CIA when I found out my boss's boss was helping a drug lord run his cartel."

The way Natasha's shoulders tense up makes your heart hurt for her. You hesitantly place your hand over hers, tracing over the small scar over her knuckle.

Natasha takes a deep breath, turning her hand over to lace your fingers together as she gives you a small smile. "I was a whistleblower. We took down the cartel but my life is always going to be at risk. My career is essentially over."

"I'm so sorry, Nat," your lips trembled, holding her hand more tightly. You felt sympathy for the woman who had lost everything to keep people safe and had to live her life quietly now.

"There you go again," Natasha said as she pulled you into her lap, feeling the familiar curve of your body and the softness of your lips she wanted to make swollen. "Always saying sorry when it's me who wants you with no regards to anything else. You make this life bearable, you make it worth it."

Natasha bites your bottom lip before she soothes over it with her tongue. Her hand drifts up your shirt, and you tremble in her arms.

"Am I worth all the pain you're causing?" Natasha asked as her lips pressed a line against your jaw and down your neck.

You think about your wife, who's at work and blissfully unaware of your infidelity. You think about how much she loves you, and she's doing nothing wrong at all, and how she'll be so devastated if she ever found out.

It's wrong.

Being with Natasha in this way was wrong.

But when Natasha talks about if the pain was worth it, the pain you're causing to your unknowing wife and yourself, the answer is—

"Yes," you whimpered as Natasha began to unbutton your shirt, hands drifting everywhere until you're pliant. "You make it worth it."

"Good girl."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Hi, baby," your wife kissed your lips softly before your nose.

"Hi, Janey," you gave her a quiet smile. "Did you have a good day at work?"

"Pretty good," Jane smiled at you. "Got pretty far ahead in my research project."

"That's really good," you genuinely praised her.

Jane bit her bottom lip as she leaned her head against your shoulder, pressing her face into your neck to hide away her pleased flush.

Jane Foster was tender too, and tender in all ways. Her nature was gentle and righteous, paired with a child-like wonder for all things in the world—and you were just one of the things in it.

But you loved her for that.

And all of that tenderness was being destroyed by you without her even knowing.

It was wrong.

All of it was wrong.

Being with Natasha.

Being with Jane.

Nothing was right anymore.

It wasn't a simple matter anymore of who you were going to choose because the truth was—you deserve neither.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

There hadn't been an indication that anything was wrong. There might've never been if you hadn't had to leave the city to visit your sick grandmother. It was just a state over, and you declined both Jane's and Natasha's offer to come with you.

It was just a coincidence. A freak coincidence that the FBI would be questioning the neighborhood your grandmother lived in.

"Sorry to disturb the two of you, ma'am," a tall, burly man said as he took off his sunglasses. "We're just looking into someone and our last tip has led us to believe that our suspect was in this area."

His partner held up a photo, and you felt like your blood was freezing up. You refrain from moving your hands from the door and behind your back, as you know they'll see it trembling.

It must be an old photo.

The moment captured Natasha with short and blonde hair. You'd probably never even recognize her in the photo if it wasn't for the small scar on her knuckle you could make out in the photo.

"Have you seen anyone that looks like this?" The burly man asked.

You peered at the photo longer, pretending to analyze it deeply for them.

"No," you exhaled like you were disappointed you couldn't be of more help. "I'm sorry. I don't actually live around here and my grandmother has been too frail to leave the house for a couple of years now. I haven't seen anyone like that since I've been here, though."

"That's alright, ma'am," the burly man's partner answered as he put the photo away and gave you his business card. "Just give us a call if you do happen to see her. Don't approach her, though."

"Oh, is she dangerous?" You pinched your brow together in worry.

"Yes," he answered. "We haven't broadcasted this to the public because it would only make it easier for her to hide, even if we got help from the public."

The burly man sighed as he rubbed his temples with one hand. "She's a very prolific serial killer. We don't even have that much information about her. All we know it's possible she's killed over 40 people. She doesn't have an MO, so it's best not to approach her if you do see her because there's no telling what her type is."

"Oh, god," your voice trembled, and it wasn't even fake.

"Just keep an eye out and be safe, ma'am." The men bid you goodbye before they left.

It wasn't even a question of whether you should go back. You arranged for another family member to look after your grandmother, and you took the next flight home.

The flight delay had you returning home in the dark. The first thing you did was go home, but Jane was nowhere to be found.

You called and called, but there was no answer.

You called Darcy next, who told you that Jane just checked in with her and was still at the lab. Some kind of breakthrough and would be late.

Relief floods your system.

The rational part of you knows you should contact the police. You should've told the FBI agents the truth.

But the irrational part of you—the part that still loves Natasha, despite being terrified, needed to know why.

Why hadn't she killed you?

Why hasn't she killed anyone in this neighborhood?

Why did she find you worth not killing?

You knocked on her door, but there was no answer. No sign she might even be home. You called next, but there was no answer.

Natasha never kept a spare key around the house, inciting that no matter how good you may hide, the chances of someone finding it was never zero.

Still—she had given you a spare key.

It was just another reason you needed answers.

You quietly opened the door, stepping in. The house was dark, the only light coming from the basement.

It wasn't finished, still requiring flooring and many renovations. Natasha took you down many times to get your opinion. It wasn't like any part of the house had been forbidden to you.

You opened the door, thinking about how Natasha regularly greased the bolts to have it refrain from squeaking. She always took good care of her home.

When you reached just enough down the stairs to peer in the area, the revulsion made you stumble, nearly falling down the stairs before you caught yourself.

It smelt...metallic and something overwhelmingly wrong.

Natasha whipped around, blood over her front and hands drenched even as she wore medical gloves.

"Oh, sweetheart," Natasha cooed disappointedly at you. "You weren't supposed to be home so soon and see this. What brought you back?"

She stalks towards you, and you fall back against the step as you crawl back up it.

"I—I—The FBI..." you couldn't even finish your sentence.

You couldn't finish it as your eyes wouldn't leave the mangled body in the middle of the room. You supposed it wasn't too mangled. You could still make out her face, even if the blood from her neck was getting everywhere.

You looked over and saw her phone nearby, unlocked with her messages open.

You couldn't read it, couldn't see it clearly at all, but you knew the last person texted was Darcy.

Who texted her? You'd never know.

You watched Jane's body be impossibly still.

"Oh? FBI? They're definitely a couple of steps behind. They should've been in Washington by now. They really must be trying to comb through every little tip." Natasha hummed as she stood before you. She leaned down, resting her hand against the steps by your head as she trapped you in.

"Tell me what I should do with you, sweetheart?" Natasha asked, your body between her legs as you trembled underneath her.

"Why did you do that?" You choked. "I would've left Jane."

"Would you?" Natasha cocked her brow. "If you hadn't known what I was, would you have? Or would you have left us both?"

You were silent, and Natasha clicked her tongue.

"I know you better than you know yourself. Do you know how long I've been watching you? I followed you here all the way here as you moved from your grandmother's house." Natasha lifted one hand to stroke your cheek with the back of her finger, getting blood on you.

"So unassuming, and yet so sweet," Natasha muttered. "So scared," she looked at your shaking hands, "and still here."

Natasha's eyes are piercing in a way you've never seen before. These are the eyes that probably looked at you when you weren't even aware of her existence. These were the eyes that followed you.

"But the question is—will you remain?" Natasha asked softly. "You make it all so worth it. I was so good for you. I'm not sure if I could be without you. If you were just a little less self-sacrificing, Janey would still be alive."

It's slightly mocking, and you feel the tears well up in your eyes.

Jane was gone because of you.

"I'm scared," you admitted, unsure what else you could say. "Nothing's going to be the same..."

You shouldn't say these things. You should lie and tell Natasha that things would be like they were before as long as she stopped. You should lie and say anything to make sure you lived—escaped.

"No, it won't be," Natasha agreed. "So, tell me, sweetheart. What should I do?"

"I—I don't know," you shook your head.

Natasha sighed. "I suppose it's not fair for me to ask you what I should do with you." She spends a long minute staring at you as if deliberating.

"I'm taking you with me either way," she finally decides. "But it's up to you what you'll do with me. Be my well-kept doll or be my accomplice."

You swallowed, trying to not answer too fast. Answering too fast would seem rash.

"What would I do? As your accomplice," you ask quietly.

"I wouldn't make you kill anyone, sweetheart," Natasha reassures. "Just stay with me tonight as I take care of the mess we made." She says we like you had personally stabbed Jane. Like you tricked your wife into staying late so Natasha could grab her. "We can talk about all of it later."

"Okay," you acquiesce because there's no way you could escape Natasha. It was too late to call for help, and you were to live with the consequences of your choice.

Natasha smiled before she swooped down and kissed you firmly, getting blood everywhere as her body momentarily pressed into you.

"Good girl."

ITS BEEN SO LONG !

Also a dark!Wandanat where they see you at your job one day and have to be with you 😩

A/N: I would love nothing more than for wandanat to see me working and just be like “hm...let’s fix that” also I know I’ve been gone for years 🥲

warnings: dark!fic (18+ ONLY)

✨👻 spooky month requests 👻✨

-

“Hey, can you take the customers that just came in?” you hear your manager ask and nod, smoothing your apron as you head to the front.

“Good morning! How can I help you today?”

Two women stand on the other side of the counter, and as their attention diverts from the items behind the glass to you, charming smiles appear on their faces. The one on your left has bright blonde hair resting on her shoulders in contrast to her counterpart with orange hair, both hiding behind sunglasses, but you couldn’t help feeling like you’d seen them somewhere. 

“Good morning, love,” the orange haired woman speaks softly as she steps a bit closer. “We’ve never been here before. What do you recommend?”

“If you’re feeling something sweet, these donuts are amazing,” you tell them as you gesture to a couple, moving down the counter a bit and the pair follows. “If not, these cheddar bagels are also my favorite.”

“I think we’ll take something sweet,” the blonde woman answers with a grin. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all!”

You carefully package the donuts that your customers select and ring up the transaction, answering a few questions about what the city is like, as they’re apparently just visiting for a while and wanted to know more about the area. When you finish, you’re startled by the blonde woman leaning over the counter to tuck a cash tip in your apron pocket before the pair thanks you and head out while holding hands.

“They must really like you,” your manager jokes as they approach and you cover your face with a laugh.

Outside of the bakery, Wanda climbs onto the bike behind Natasha, placing the food in her bag before wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Do you think asking someone we just met to join us while we’re on the run is coming off too strong?” Wanda asks over Natasha’s shoulder, who chuckles in response almost immediately.

“Who said we were going to ask?”

Reflection

warnings: nsfw under the cut, mommy kink, use of toys (strap-on), slight spanking

a/n: based off this ask, not proof read

“Eye’s on me, pretty girl.”

Keep reading

the winter woodworker

pairing: nat/f!reader

summary:

You spit out your name in blind fear when the woman steps closer as a threat. “My car broke down on the road. I was cold and-and scared, and the door was unlocked, and your house was- is very warm. And, um, nice.”

The woman looks at you for a long moment. You can’t really make out any features through the cloth wrapped around her nose and mouth, and the beanie tugged low on her head, but you can see the jade green of her eyes as she glares.

You twist up your sleeves. “Um, I like your, uh, your coat rack.”

notes: nsfw, mostly fluff, some smut, this bitch is long! 8k i think! basically nat hasnt talked to a human in months and youre also just a big naive idiot brat and shes very nice to u even tho she makes fun of u and makes u feel awkward because it amuses her

(ao3)

Keep reading

Black Widow Movie [Deleted Scenes]

OLDER MOB NAT! AND HER YOUNG (FRESH GRAD) INNOCENT! R WHO WORKS AS HER ASSISTANT IN THE OFFICE.

warning: older!nat, younger!reader, mob boss, age gap relationships. SFW

When Natasha entered the room with you in tow, your hairs travelled to the sway of her hips. You couldn’t help but blush at the sight of your boss’ curves, feeling inappropriate at the way you ogled her like she was your girlfriend.

But her dark voice broke you out of her little reverie as she finally say behind her desk, blazer unbuttoned just as she shirt, just enough to give you a glimpse of her lace bra and the purple hickeys that adored the plump of her chest.

“Just set it down here, hon.”

You nodded, blushing at her pet name your boss gave you. And despite it all, you were warm all over as you leaned over her desk and organized the paper of the revenue of her club.

“Are you all set, Miss Romanoff?” You asked her softly before you decided to leave, your back straight and posture perfect as you stood in front of her. “Anything else I can get you?”

She shook her head, eyes settled on the papers in front of you. She didn’t bat an eye at you, only hummed and when you nodded, you picked your feet from the floor and headed towards the door.

“Actually,” she started, “there’s one thing you forgot, dear. Come back.”

Your heart pummeled out of your chest, fear settling in your bones at the thought of fucking up some of her paperwork and accidentally leaving it unorganized.

But when the mob boss stood from her chair and walked around her desk to sit against it, she smiled as you neared her presence once again.

She cocked her head, eyes settled into yours.

“You think I wouldn’t remember?”

You frowned, eyes shaded in shame at her words.

“I knew you were busy, Natty.”

Natasha clicked her tongue and then shook her head, eyes heavy as she looked at you. When you refused to look back, her hand reached out and tilted your head up to force your gaze onto her.

“I’m never too busy for you, hon.” Her thumb grazed the apples of your cheeks and then dragged them over the slope of your nose. A flush snuck up on your face and the older woman grinned. When Natasha leaned closer and caressed her nose against yours, you took initiative and gave her crimson lips a peck.

The woman pulled back with a raised brow, her emerald eyes wide and dark as she looked at you with surprise.

“You’re getting bold, sweetheart.” She squeezed your cheek together. Then, after letting a moment pause, she smiled and closed the gap to press her lips against yours. With the taste of cigarettes and coffee present on her tongue, it envelopes you with surprise. The older woman teases your mouth open and even widens the kiss enough.

The sounds echo in the room, almost pornographic, you’re the first to pull away when you lack air.

“Don’t forget to bring me the manila folders when you come in for your lunch break, okay?” You nodded at her demand. After all, above everything else, she was still your boss at work. At home, in the comfort of her million dollar condo in the heart of New York, she was Natty, your girlfriend.

𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

────────────────────────

𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍!𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚊 𝚡 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary ➞ just after you began your political career, natasha romanoff attempted to assassinate you under the orders of the red room. so, naturally, you hired her as your bodyguard. now, in the midst of running for president, there’s been a shift in the nature of your relationship. word count : 4.2k

disclaimer ➞ 18+, strong language, implied age gap (natasha is slightly older but everything is 100% legal), smut, oral ( r reviving), fingering (r receiving), strap on use (double ended), dirty talk (praise + degradation + a little dumbification + pet names)

gif source

a/n || this whole thing came from me seeing a picture of beefy nat in endgame so that was a wild ride. this piece of work is not to be copied or translated anywhere. thank you for reading!!! comments and reblogs appreciated <3

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The idea of mystery had always enthralled you.

To have something dangle in your face and still fail to understand it was entirely too appealing to someone who had always been filled with a need to want - and to, subsequently, keep wanting until there was nothing left. You could admit that you were greedy in that way.

Lucky for you, Natasha Romanoff was a complete enigma - one of the biggest mysteries you’d ever had the privilege of encountering. Although, ‘encounter’ wouldn’t be your ideal choice of word; it sounded entirely too pleasant for the whole ordeal considering she had sought you out under the conviction that she was going to kill you.

It happened nearly four years to the day. But it could have been a year ago - or a day ago - the way that you remembered every detail down to the stomach-turning icy feeling of her knife when she pressed it against the hollow of your throat.

You remember the sickening growl in her voice, when it dropped down an octave and hovered just at your ear so that she could tell you ‘God, I’d just love to have a spoiled little bitch like you begging for my mercy but I’ve grown quite fond of you so I’ll spare you the suffering’. And you remember the cold chill that ran down your spine immediately after that.

To this day, you’re still unsure how you made it out of there alive and unharmed. You did figure it had something to do with the fact that her eyes kept flickering to your chest with every shaky breath that heaved in your lungs. Or maybe it was the way they fell to your lips as you whimpered a weak promise of ‘it’s okay, go ahead’ in that whine she would never, out loud, admit to falling in love with.

All of that aside, you had never understood the woman and had come to turns with the fact that you probably never would. Though, you did find it best not to question the loyalty she had grown for you in the days that followed. After all, it had been years now and she still had yet to let you down.

When you hired her, you figured you’d learn more about her and you did - in a way.

You learned that she liked her coffee black but she wouldn’t get it from that coffee shop down the street because their muffins were too hard on the outside. And that her favorite place to eat was the grill downtown because none of the waitresses flirted with her while she ate and they always got her order right, no matter how complicated - because, you also learned, she was not one of those people who were too afraid to ask for their order to be exactly how they liked it.

But, still, you could never really know her. And that was something you were beginning to accept.

Tonight was no different.

Your muscles are growing noticeably weaker by the time the tiredness sets in and the excitement of the day finally begins to dwindle under the dim lamp-light of your bedroom. Your chest tightens as you’re left with whatever thoughts have managed to free themselves and run rampant in your exhausted brain.

“Will that be all for the night, boss?” Natasha’s voice is gentle as she stands in the hall and peaks her head in the doorway, careful and slow - like she does every other night she asks that same question - as she tries to avoid scaring you with her sudden intrusion.

You turn on your heel and your eyes fall onto her as a sigh passes your lips, “I think so, Natty, yeah.”

Even though you don’t ask for help, she watches you struggle to reach for the zipper at the back of your dress and her head cocks to the side curiously, “Would you like me to help you?” She treads carefully with her question, fearing that she’d overstep any boundaries.

Both of her hands come up and wrap around either side of the bulky doorframe as she begins to rock on her feet in wait of your answer. A soft ‘please’ finally unhitches from your aching throat, a hint of that whine in your tone makes the red-head have to swallow a smile.

You tug frustratedly at the hips of your dress, feeling constricted in the tight fabric, and she lets a breathy chuckle erupt in her chest before catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “Every time.” She jokes as she pushes into the room, gently pressing the door closed behind her with a soft click.

You huff, “It’s not my fault. I can’t reach the goddamn zipper.” Your genuine irritation makes her laugh, a much fuller sound this time. “Of course not, Madam President.”

“Oh please,” you hiss as a look of discontentment paints across your face, “I’m not president yet and I doubt I ever will be if the press doesn’t stop treating me as a joke. Did you see the way they talked to me tonight?”

The older woman moves to you with a disagreeing hum, squaring herself behind you with a hand on either of your shoulders. The gesture forces a heat behind your cheeks and you fight from meeting her intimidating observance.

“Oh, don’t mind them. They’re bloodsuckers. You do great in every interview and your polls are up from last week. People are really taking a liking to you.”

Your eyebrows push up then, “Like when you took a liking to me?” She knows it’s part joke but that doesn’t stop her from noticing the uncertainty that sparkles in your eyes. “If I hadn’t taken a liking to you, I would have followed through with my plan to assassinate you.”

The truth in her statement has you wringing your hands together nervously and the room falls silent as you contemplate her answer. A small ‘maybe you should have’ slips out from under your breath and makes Natasha’s own heart begin to ache in her chest. But she ultimately decides not to comment.

Instead, she takes the zipper of your dress between patient fingers as her eyes flash to yours through the glass of the full-body mirror in front of you. You shift anxiously, watching as she guides the small metal piece down the stretch of your back until the connecting fabric falls away at your sides.

“Maybe presidency isn’t worth all these formal events and uncomfortable dresses.” You attempt to return the playfulness into the air between you as you shimmy out of the dress and letting it pool onto the floor around your feet.

Natasha offers a fatigued laugh, “Well, if you didn’t wear uncomfortable dresses, then I wouldn’t have the privilege of taking them off of you.” The evening’s second wave of heat rushes to your cheeks at the implication of her words.

Your relationship with Natasha had been like this, since the moment you two had become comfortable with each other - harmless banter turned into empty flirting when there weren’t any perked ears around to hear. She liked to make you flustered when the two of you were alone; watch you fumble around for words and try to figure out how to play it cool under the watch of her distracting green eyes.

She eventually shuffles away from you, letting the back of her calves hit your bed-frame before she takes a seat on the mattress. “So what is it? You don’t like all the attention you get at your big, fancy, rich-people parties?” The obvious distaste in her voice makes you turn to face her again with an unreadable expression, carefully stepping out of the puddle of fabric.

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I just…” You voice trials off as you try to find the words, padding towards the bed as her eyes flicker over your half-naked body. “I miss being able to go out - I can’t even go to the gas station for a slushie without cameras in my face and press shouting about whether I support this or why I don’t support that.”

Natasha tilts her head, “I can go get you a slushie if you’d like.” You practically melt at the genuine concern in her voice, moving to sit next to her on the bed. “That’s very sweet of you but also not the point, Nat. I just miss being able to get in the car and go somewhere without a million people trailing at my heels.”

Natasha’s eyes fall to her lap as she thinks, then they flicker back to you. “You miss me not being up your ass all the time?” Her lip tilts playfully, she’s hoping her hopeful attempt at making you laugh with succeed and it does when a giggle falls from your lips. “You are the least of my problems. If anything, you make all this work somewhat tolerable.”

She echoes back your ‘somewhat’ to make you laugh again as you scoot closer to her. “Yeah, somewhat. Don’t let that go to your head.” She nudges your shoulder playfully, “Oh no, it definitely already has. Knowing you can’t live without me.”

“Hey, I never said that!”

The two of you laugh in harmony for a moment before a comforting lull washes over you both. Her hand finds your knee, thumb rubbing gentle circles against the skin and your head falls onto her shoulder.

She can feel a tear wet her skin through the thin material of her shirt and she quickly shrugs your head away so she can take your face between her hands. “Hey, why are you crying?”

You shake your head and move to wipe the stray tears, “It’s just the stress, it makes me emotional.” You say through a half-hearted laugh; mostly at how ridiculous you feel to be crying right now.

“You need to de-stress.” Her words are a soft hum as her eyes dart around your face. “May I?” Your eyebrows knit in confusion before she’s leaning towards you and, suddenly, you can feel her breath against your lips.

It’s now that you realize the hand that had fallen back to your knee has tightened its grip and, as much as you hate to admit it, your thighs clench in excitement at the implication that she is preparing to kiss you. The thumb that is still pressed to your face swipes at your cheek reassuringly, “Is this okay?” but her eyes don’t leave your lips as she speaks.

A nod from you is all she needs to connect your mouths, hers beginning to work gently against yours as you crane forward to meet her half-way. You attempt to fight her for some type of dominance but it’s a futile fight when her tongue presses against the seam of your lips and you nearly melt into a puddle on the bed.

There’s something eternal about the way she kisses you - like you could stay here forever and never need to pull away or do anything other than kiss her for the rest of your entire life.

Your body twists to face her fully, knees coming up to tuck underneath you until you’re taller than her. Her free hand presses against your stomach so that her fingers are free to explore the skin she’d been staring at for the last bout of your conversation.

You toy with the strands of hair that usually frame her chiseled expression, pushing them out of the way. A delighted hum falls from her mouth and into yours, the sound causing you to part from her lips just enough to lock eyes with her.

You’re still towering above her but you only hold eye contact for a moment to say a million things with your eyes without uttering a word.

“Let me.” She finally mutters to break the silence and concentration. You know the words ‘take control’ are lingering somewhere at the end of her sentence but neither of you really need her to clarify as she surges her body towards you and forces you onto your back.

She’s expressing so many different emotions with her lips as she moves to hover over you and attaches them to your throat eagerly. Their path is linear across the skin, trailing the same length that her blade once had - almost as if she’s saying i’m sorry.

But the sweet burn of excited nerves makes it hard for you to concentrate on the meaning behind her actions as you revel in the delightful stinging feeling. Your knees bend towards the ceiling and feet plant against the bed, inviting her to settle between your thighs; which she does without hesitation.

Your fingers work off the buttons of her shirt, letting her tie fall and brush against your exposed stomach. When her torso is finally freed of the shirt, you push it away and toss it to gather onto the floor.

She stops kissing you for a moment, the slightest bit of fear swimming around in her olive eyes, as you examine the scars littered across her toned abdomen.

There’s one in particular, it’s raised and a pale pink much lighter than her complexion. Goosebumps flutter over her flesh when your fingers graze it and she instantly softens at the interest in your gaze. Her nerves wash away as her lips twitch with a smirk and she says “I’ll tell you all about them one day.”

You confirm the idea with a kiss, pulling her impossibly closer to you by tangling her tie in your fist and yanking her to you. Her laugh fans against your lips as she kisses you, failing to bite back the smile that’s been threatening to ruin the kiss since your mouths had first connected.

“I’ve been dreaming about this moment forever.” She admits, pushing up to sit on her knees and unbuckle the dress pants around her hips. You help pull them down her thighs, not bothering to leave the red-cotton underwear underneath them as she kicks it all onto the floor.

“You have?” It’s hard to hide the shyness that entangles itself in your voice so you move to press your face against her chest, littering it with gentle kisses and nips but she notices the shift in your demeanor anyway and lowers herself back down to your eye-line. “Look at you. Of course I have.”

She accents her truth by letting her lips find the valley of your chest, hands sliding around to undo the clip of your bra with ease, as if she had been doing it for years.

When the bra falls away, her lips attach to your nipple; taking the sensitive bud between her teeth and flicking at it with her tongue.

You almost wonder if she’d been studying your body without your knowledge - learning how to bite and kiss and lick in just the right way to force the air to deflate from your lugs and push those melodic moans from your throat.

“You sound so pretty.” She comments in between licks down your trembling stomach, fingers curling around your underwear to pull the soaked fabric down your legs and leave them to dangle from the bed-frame. “Love it when you sing for me.”

Another wave a goosebumps prick at your skin as she nips against your thighs, eyes looking up to find yours through her fluttering eyelashes and the sight alone makes a rush of your arousal drip onto the bedsheets.

Her hand comes up and presses against your sensitive skin, right above where your underwear would begin and she hums, “Do you always tremble like this when a woman touches you?”

You want to say no - deny, deny, deny, right? - and you wouldn’t technically be lying but you’ve also never willingly submitted to someone as easily as you were for her. There had never been a woman who knew how to handle your body the way she was doing now.

Lucky for you, or maybe unlucky for you, there isn’t time to answer because her flattened tongue falls out between her lips and caresses your entrance like she’d been starving all her life and you were the only food she had ever been offered.

The sudden pleasure overtakes you in a gasp, body shuddering away from the bed just to chase the feeling of her tongue. She laughs into the skin of your thigh, holding your legs open with her muscled arms, “So eager.”

She surges towards you again, burying her face in your folds and pushing her tongue into you as far as she can. You clench around her, embarrassingly tight, but it only spurs her on as she simultaneously nudges your clit with her nose and explores the fluttering walls of your cunt with her tongue.

One of her hands leaves your thigh as her mouth moves raises to suckle at your clit. A finger probes the empty hole that her tongue had only just vacated. “You taste fucking amazing. Anyone ever tell you that?”

You don’t want to answer. Not because no one had - you’ve heard it on more than one occasion - but because you’d rather forget that you’d ever been touched before her. Well, you had never been touched like this, anyway.

When her finger finally dips into your cunt, you let out an extremely loud and rather whorish moan that shatters any of the composure either of you had been left with. “That’s it.” She encourages as her finger curls inside you and your hips crane to meet her.

She lashes her tongue against your clit in one long stroke to soften the upcoming blow of her pulling away completely. Your chest is rattled with a needy whine that makes the other woman throb between her own legs. “Shhh angel, I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

You want to protest, or maybe panic as you fear you’ve done something wrong, but she’s already pulling your robe onto her shoulders and shuffling out the door before you have the chance to. Your legs twitch and clench at the empty feeling, slick coating your thighs and surely the bed beneath you.

Even though it’s only a few shot seconds, it seems to be years before she returns. When she does, an excited grin is playing across her lips as she shuts the door. The curiosity in your gaze is answered as she turns to you and lets the robe fall away, onto the floor. A thick, flesh-colored strap stands tall between her toned legs.

As she’s standing there, chest puffed confidently and you ogling the toy dangling from her hips, you can picture the crude words glowing across a neon sign: ‘DESPERATE BOSS GETS FUCKED BY HER BEEFY BODYGUARD (LOTS OF MOANING, REAL ORGASM!!)’

Natasha leans forward and kisses at your knee, hand curling around your calf to spread your legs so that she is free to slot herself between them. “Couldn’t wait to fuck you proper, angel. I’ve got to right now.” She explains, head falling to your neck where she begins to press gentle kisses.

You hum in total agreement, hands caressing the skin on her back as she kissed down your neck to your shoulder, letting her teeth scrape against your pulse before she comes up to kiss you.

“You want me to fuck you as bad as I want to fuck you?”

You answer embarrassingly quick with a ‘yes, yes please’, hands darting into her hair to grip on excitedly. “Oh baby, such perfect manners. You’re so starved of attention, huh?” Her tone is very much Natasha, playful and condescending but they still warm your belly in anticipation.

The strap nudges your clit as you eagerly take it in your hand, her eyes flutter closed at both the feeling of the toy shifting and the squeak that falls from your lips. You want to show her how good you can be as you pump the toy with your first; it becomes very evident, very quickly, that the other end of the toy is nuzzled inside her cunt.

The pleasured sounds she makes encourage you to meet her sights. Your eyes are screaming ‘fuck me, please, i’ll be so good for you’ when they lock onto hers and hers are almost saying ‘i know baby, gonna fuck you so good’ even as the toy pushes into you slow enough for you to feel your walls stretch to accommodate its girth.

She brings herself onto her knees, both hands wrenched into your hips as her arm muscles contract with the strength she uses to grip them. You could have cum right then and there, watching the animalistic need take over her as she begins pumping her hips into yours.

She’s chasing her own need, as well as yours, and the thought of it makes you want to behave just enough to see her cum because of you.

A shattered moan escapes you and bounces off the walls as she rolls her hips particularly deep, moving languidly and expertly to hit just the right spots. “You’re so messy, peach. Making a big mess of my cock.” Her words are grunted through her own labored breathing and your pathetic mewling.

“You take me so well, I’m so proud of you, my girl.” You respond with a mindless chant of ‘so good, natty, so fucking good’.

She subtly corrects your use of her name with, “Mommy’s got you so drunk on my cock, isn’t that right baby? Not a single thought behind those pretty little eyes once I get my hands on you?” and laughs wickedly as she comes down to kiss you again and her hips pick up speed.

The authority behind her tone makes you clench around the toy, gripping at her back for dear life. She growls into your ear when your nails break at the skin, never letting her hips falter but, instead, speeding up to a pace that makes you question if she’s real.

Even as she’s fucking you, toy balls-deep inside your dripping cunt, you wonder if all of this is a dream. Because she’s fucking you too well, and she knows our body too well, and she knows just what to say to keep you riled up.

She must have seen the haze in your eyes as your mind wonders because she grips at your chin, letting one arm down flex by your head and hold herself up. “Come back to me, my peach, focus on Mommy and just how good she fucks you, yeah?”

“So good, Mommy!” It’s a shout more than anything, desperately trying to grab onto something that’s going to keep you grounded as she fucks into you deeper and her breath echoes by your ears.

“Oh the poor dumb baby just needed to be fucked good. You wanna run a whole country and still let Mommy spread you open and fuck you stupid on my cock? Is that what you need, baby?”

“Mommy, please. Gonna cum. Can I - oh god - can I cum for you Mommy?”

She lets out a delighted laugh then, hand trailing away from your chin to caress circles around your clit, “Cum for me, angel. Let it all out, sweet girl.”

You try to hold it; to keep this feeling going as you almost fear you’ll never get it again, but something springs open inside of you and you let out a scream into the quieted second level of the house as you cum.

“That’s so good, you’re so pretty.” The praises come from her in sweet tongue rolls, pants and gasps falling from her lips as her own cunt twitches around the toy’s opposite end. “Yes, Mommy’s so close, baby. Fuck, just hang on.”

You can see her struggle to keep whatever is left of her composure, hips sloppy as they drill yours into the mattress. She groans into your shoulder as she cums around the toy, hissing about how beautiful you are and how she loves the way you look underneath her. But the words are muffled by the sound of the blood rushing in your ears as you struggle to regain your breath.

In fear of overstimulating your - already shot - nervous system, she pulls out smoothly. You whimper, choking on the air in your throat and she rubs at your chest soothingly. “You’re okay, my peach, you’re okay.”

You pull her into a kiss as she collapses beside you, gripping onto her as if you’re scared she’ll disappear underneath your fingertips. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’m gonna get you the win you deserve.”

It’s impossible to fight the tiredness that overtakes you as your head falls against her naked chest and her fingers rake through your hair as she mumbles comforts and nicknames you wonder whether or not they’ll ever leave this bedroom.

blood kink nat blood kink nat blood kink n

warnings: blood kink, implied violence. NSFW

Shakily, you stood in front of Natasha with blood dripping from your arms. The silence was unbearable and your thoughts ran and ran until they couldn’t anymore.

But your lover stood still in front of you with wide eyes and a silent mouth. She didn’t judge. She didn’t say anything. Instead, once she found the courage to step towards you, she drags you into the bathroom where the sight of yourself in the mirror makes you whimper.

Natasha caresses your painted cheek, cooing gentle sayings as she sat you under the shower. You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t move. Natasha joined you shortly and when the water touched your skin, you shivered.

“Are you hurt?”

You shook your head and then felt your lover draw your hand up, watching her as she took a bloodied finger into her mouth and licked the substance off.

Your eyes grew wide and under the wet steam of the shower, between your legs, your arousal grew with every lick and hum from your lover.

“Natasha...”

Your head fell against her bicep, watching with a curious gaze to your eyes as your fingers disappeared into her mouth; which had been bloodied but now came out clean under her tongue.

You shivered and hummed at her actions. Her tongue drawing circles against the tip of your fingers, before she pulled them out and moved on to another.

You shook under your girlfriend’s hold, her free arm gripping your wrist tightly while her eyes fluttered open to find you staring. She smiled against your hand, slightly bit at your skin before slowly and painfully slipping your fingers out of her month.

“Tastes so good, baby.”

are you jealous?

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

warnings: (NSFW) strap on, fingering, semi-public sex, slight mommy kink

Keep reading

Avengers + Breaking News Meme

DELETED BLACK WIDOW SCENE

ok but why did they delete a bike chase thats so cool also im living for the yelena and nat sibling bickering “do you know where you’re going… and you drove us into a cage” “this gate wasn’t here 8 years ago!”. and nat riding a motorbike is just iconic at this point since she’s done it in so many movies (my favourite was probably age of ultron cause she got to grab caps shield lmao). plus in a lot of the promos we saw photos from this scene and i mean scarlett and flo on a motorbike is pretty amazing so yeah it makes sense but i would have loved to see it in the show as well. anyways yeah pls let me know what ur thoughts are (:

I love the banter between them they're assholes for eachother in the nicest way possible lmao💕 Natasha avoiding chores and casually talking about killing a man is just so funny😭 Also the mommy kink... Her calling us a good girl I cant do this today😭😭

idiot4idiot

pairing: nat/f!reader

summary:

Natasha Romanov: superspy extraordinaire, Avenger, routine trespasser, and chore-avoider. Oh, and a romantic.

notes: fluff, couldnt get mediocre gfs out of my head<3

series: one, two, ao3

Keep reading

unironically want that mediocre gfs w u stuck and just the 'nat 😳😳😳what r u doing'

you know. you know what. i make myself laugh. thats what matters.

title: you dirty, dirty girl

summary:

Nat chuckles. Her hands, calloused and hot, squeeze your cheeks. Spread them. Her mouth hovers over your tailbone. “Seriously? You got yourself stuck in the laundry machine in this get-up?”

“It was not on purpose. Pull that back up, so help me-”

content: nat/f!reader, dom/sub, cum filled strap, anal, anal plug

(ao3)

Fate is cruel. So very cruel. You have never wanted to die this badly.

For over ten minutes—you can tell based on the number of songs that have played, you have been stuck in your laundry machine. In your fucking underwear like some lousy porn. What’s worse is that you decided that today of all days, you would invite Nat over. Nat, who only ever takes two-hour naps at most and went to sleep on your couch an hour and a half ago. Nat, who will laugh so hard she dies from oxygen deprivation when she sees you. And then you will die because you’re stuck in a laundry machine with no possible escape.

At least you’ll die next to each other. How romantic.

Picture this: blades at the inside of the laundry machine, cut up into strings. What bliss.

You stick your forearm into your mouth for the third time so far so you can muffle your scream of pure frustration. You will not be surprised at all if you lose your voice tomorrow.

It all started because of Nat’s stupid fucking sock. She’s always complaining that your laundry machine eats her socks, so you’d made sure to fish them all out. Except when you tried to grab the last one (patterned with cartoon spiders hanging off a faucet—a gag gift you got her for her birthday), you had leaned too far in and now you couldn’t squeeze your shoulders back out.

How does this happen in real life?

The rim of the laundry machine is starting to bite. You smack the inside of the machine with your fist, kicking your legs out. Another infuriated cry into your forearm.

Another song begins playing. You hate this song.

You close your eyes, feeling your head throb, and then suck in a deep, long breath. The air is humid, disgustingly so.

It’s time.

It’s time to suck it up.

You prepare a lungful of air, and— you screech.

Thud!

“Fuck!” comes Nat’s sleep-raspy voice.

That felt good. You scream again, making sure there’s a real guttural note to it.

“Baby?” Nat yells, confused, slightly panicked. Rapid footsteps. The door swings open. “Are you okay?”

“Get me out,” you grit lowly.

She doesn’t react immediately. You imagine she didn’t hear; she’s taking it all in. Maybe, she’s still rubbing her ass from falling off the couch. Then: “…what the hell.”

“Natasha.” Your knuckles blanche with how tight your fists are clenched. You speak louder, enunciating: “Get. Me. Out.”

A warm hand on your lower back, where your spaghetti top has ridden up. The music from your phone pauses, and Nat crouches next to you. “Is there a spider in there or something? I told you I’m not going to kill spiders for you. The joke is old.”

“I am not.” You inhale. Hold. Exhale. “I am not fucking joking right now, Natasha fucking Romanoff, if you do not get me out of here-”

“You’re really not funny. You’re not.” Nat pokes your ass cheek. “I could be sleeping right now.”

“Natasha!” you screech, thrashing your lower body. “I’m fucking stuck in the laundry machine! Get me out. Get me out!”

Another lengthy pause. Nat puts both hands on your back and leans down, presumably to peek into the laundry machine because she’s an asshole who doesn’t believe you. Which is just so—

“Annoying piece of shit! Fucking-” You slam your palms down, metallic clanging grating against your ears. You feel like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

“For real? For real, dude. You’re…” Nat presses closer and breathes down your neck. So not helping. “…wow.”

“I will break up with you.”

“But…”

“Don’t.”

“But step-sister-”

“Natasha,” you grind out between your teeth.

Her body warmth withdraws, and you sigh in relief. Then, she hooks her fingers into your panties and slides them down to your knees.

“I will kill you. I will kill you. I will kill you.”

Nat chuckles. Her hands, calloused and hot, squeeze your cheeks. Spread them. Her mouth hovers over your tailbone. “Seriously? You got yourself stuck in the laundry machine in this get-up?”

“It was not on purpose. Pull that back up, so help me-”

“I don’t believe you.” She removes a hand. Only to bring it back down in a spank.

You yelp, flushing deeply, abruptly. “I don’t care,” your voice hikes up a pitch on another spank, “Nat, please.”

“That’s more like it,” she husks, breath fanning across your back. “Begging.”

It must be a Pavlovian response to that specific tone of voice. No other explanation for why you’re moments from getting wet. You did not do this on purpose.

Nat noses along the curve of your ass. You feel her lips curve into a smile; you can just picture it: impish, cocky, shit-eating. She digs her nails into your stinging ass cheek, bites the other one, and gives it another harsh smack.

The ass bad airflow in the drum must be fucking with your head. You bite your lip to prevent a whimper from escaping. To your great shame, you feel arousal gush out. Perhaps Nat won’t notice immediately, so you have time to brace yourself for the incoming humiliation.

Nat leaves a wet mark on your ass, and it prickles on your skin as it dries in the air. She sighs very contently, and you know, at that moment, the game is over.

“Sweetheart, do you want to safeword?” You slot your teeth into the bitemark on your arm and groan into it. Her hand rubs your smarting cheek as if to console you. She’s unbearably smug when she says: “I didn’t think so.”

You move your arm to your forehead, leaning heavily onto it. This is happening. It would be fantastic if those blades appeared now.

To your horror, Nat pulls away entirely and takes a few steps back.

You make a noise of alarm, body taut like a bowstring. “Don’t leave me here. Nat, please, don’t. Please.”

Footsteps returning. Hand patting your spine. “Just for a minute, okay? I’ll be quick.”

“Promise?” you whisper, afraid for a second that she won’t hear.

But she pats you again and says, “Promise, sweet girl. Be good.”

And she’s gone for ages.

The embarrassment from this whole situation makes you heat up, makes you tense, makes you wet, and the latter makes the humiliation greater. It’s a vicious cycle. You’re definitely not thinking clearly anymore, pulled into that happy, fuzzy space where anything Nat does gets you off. Where time moves nonlinearly.

You sigh, biting your lip and waggling your foot as you wait for her. It feels like too long, but you can’t trust your sense of time, and you can’t trust Nat to not take forever just to fuck with you. But she did promise—she doesn’t usually break promises like this.

“Nat?” you ask, voice meek. Pathetic.

No response.

You brace your hands on the end of the drum and push. No go. Still.

Unfortunately, this is when Nat decides to come back. Pitter-patter of her feet incoming fast. You knew she wouldn’t lie. She wasn’t trying to drag it out—

“Well, well.” Nat stops at the door. “I was going to be nice, you know?”

You drop your arms with a sad moan. “You were gone.”

“Good girls are patient.” Her voice comes closer. “Good girls get their pussies filled.”

“Please.” You practically claw your way deeper into the machine in an attempt to appease her.

She tsks, and her hands grip you by the hips, pulling you back in place. “Hold still now. I’ll fuck you if you listen.”

“Okay,” you eventually mutter.

Nat hums. You hear clinking and rustling. She’s tampering with something. You wish you could twist around and see her, gauge her mood. Alas, the tight space does you no favours.

Anyway, you did agree to hold still, didn’t you?

For a long time, nothing happens. This time, you’re sure Nat’s fucking with you, but you don’t know what to do to get her moving. Your slick is trickling down your thighs now. The odds are stacked against you.

“Nat, please,” you whine.

A huff. “That was your second chance.” She’s still not touching you. You curl your toes, tensing up. “How many spanks for the impatience?”

“…um, five?” you attempt.

“We’ll do five times the number I was thinking. Better luck next time.” Her palm comes down out of nowhere and with a punishing force. You cry out, trying to twist into the drum. She just drags you back out. “Count for me. No mistakes, and I’ll halve the number.”

Were you not so horny, you would’ve asked her why she’s acting like a primary school math teacher. Instead, you choke out: “One.”

She hums and hits at your thigh this time. You wriggle, count, and she resituates you. Repeat. The spanks land along your ass and thighs, and, every so often, she pauses to massage your stinging flesh. By the time she hits twenty, you’re a snivelling mess.

She shushes you, squeezing a hand through to rub circles between your shoulder blades. “Five more, okay?”

You nod, though she might not see it. Still, she takes it as a go-ahead to give you five more swats, alternating spots with each one. You spit out the last five numbers in quick succession, voice small and wobbly.

Nat squats low to kiss at your tender skin, murmuring praise and encouragements to you until you sigh. “I’m okay now. Mostly.”

Her hand rests gently on a bruise. “Mostly?”

You nod again, head drooped into a pile of your arms. “Yeah. Green.”

A thoughtful hum. Then, she’s gone, and there’s the pop of a cap being opened. “Relax for me, sweetheart.”

With a keen, you do your best to slacken. Even then, when cold fingers touch your still sensitive ass, you jolt and hiss.

“Sorry, baby,” Nat soothes. Gingerly, she tugs you open. “Come on. Deep breaths. You know how prep goes.”

You do. Your clit throbs.

You do as you’re told, trying to count out each breath. You begin to appreciate her cool touch, overheated as you are.

When she’s deemed you sufficiently calm, she presses her lubed thumb against the ring of your ass and makes tiny circles on it. Your cunt clenches in anticipation.

“You’re my good girl,” she coos, ghosting her other hand along your inner thigh. “My baby. Good little slut for me, hm?”

Tiny: “Mhm.”

Nat rewards you with the first knuckle of her index finger. You gasp, and she cuts it off with one of her own. “No matter how many times I fuck you, you’re still this tight,” she says, almost like she’s musing to herself. Another press of her lips to your ass, then she pushes her finger all the way in. “So good for me.”

Yes. Good. You nod, eyes clenched shut.

Before she slips her second finger in, she gives you a few thrusts that have you groaning and dropping heavily into the laundry machine. Nat’s patient with you, waiting for you to settle back down before pistoning both fingers into you. Once, twice, three times.

She scissors her fingers, curls them, twists them. Each time, you try not to writhe. Your earlier screeching has your throat too raw to make sounds louder than a breathy wail, so you’re left whimpering and heaving for breath.

Overlaying all of this is Nat’s filthy whispers. She calls you good, her precious baby. Yet, every time your cunt leaks more arousal, or it clenches on nothing, or your sphincter spasms around her fingers, she’s groaning out greedy whore, aching for cock. Your head spins from it all.

After an age, she drags her fingers out of you with a sound that verges on forlorn.

“I’m fucking you ‘till I’m bored,” she informs you.

“Please, please, please,” is all you can say.

She laughs, probing at your asshole with the head of her strap-on, and you’re instantly babbling out pitiful sounds, and she just laughs a bit more. Your arms are damaged from how hard you grip onto them, from the occasional snap of your jaw around them.

The cock splits you open slowly, rubs against your hypersensitive skin, and you hiccup midway through a cry. Nat stops when she bottoms out, cursing under her breath at the sight of your ass wrapped tight around the girth of her piece.

Then, the sound of a shutter.

Your sound of confusion sounds like a mewl.

“Don’t think,” she says lightly, jerking her hips into a grind, “just take it.”

Your lungs run ragged, trying to take in enough air for your brain.

She strokes over your waist, down your thigh, and exhales softly. Pulls out halfway and drives the cock back in. “Oh, sweetheart,” she sighs. “Yes. Just take it.”

“Yes,” you echo, eyebrows crinkling as she starts up a snappy pace, “yes, yes, yes-”

The fit is tight, excruciating in its pleasure. The friction of your muscles around her girth has you drooling on your arm, mouth slack and open.

After a particularly loud whimper, Nat plants a hand on your back and presses you into the rim of the machine. With the leverage, she can fuck into you harder, faster. Her other hand flits around your body and slithers down your navel to cup your mound.

You buck down into her hand.

“Stay,” she barks. With her assistance, you’re returned to your previous height, much to your chagrin.

“Please,” you moan brokenly, “Nat, please.”

She pinches your ass, ignoring your mournful yowl. Somehow, she fucks you harder, your bodies swaying forward with every shove. The ache, the sound, of her front meeting your backside has you needier. Somehow, needier.

So full. Alight with sensation. Just not where you need it.

Nat takes pity. She reaches around and, this time, sweeps the pad of her finger over your clit.

You wail.

The finger draws tight circles around your clit, pressure becoming more deliberate, harsher, as your cries escalate into—nothing.

Your mouth falls open silently, overworked throat failing at producing noise.

And you’re full—so full—more full. Nat releases into you with a grunt, a gasp, and then a long groan. Fingers splayed out on your back, the other hand slipping away from your dripping cunt.

Fake cum pools heavy inside you, fucked deep inside you by the strap that Nat keeps pushing into you.

Afterwards, she drapes her body over yours with a puff of breath.

“Thank you,” you mumble eventually.

She barks a laugh. It’s a cute sound, you hate to admit. “You’re welcome for using you as a fleshlight.”

You manage a smile. “Any time.”

Another exhale as she hikes herself up using the edge of the machine and inches her cock out of you. She hums in sympathy with your quickened breathing.

You make to wiggle out after, but she stills you with a hand.

“What’s the rush, baby?” There’s a hint of mirth in her voice that you don’t trust at all. A very familiar click of shutters. “Look at you, gaping for me. Leaking for me.” Her thumb whips out to catch the cum dribbling out, pushes it back in. “Better not waste, though.”

Your clit throbs with your pulse. “…Nat.”

“What?” But she doesn’t give you a chance to continue, bulldozing on: “You know, honey, the absence of your humongous mommy kink has been quite disappointing.”

“My god.”

“Laundry machine? Anal? Coming inside? Check, check, and check. Weird familial-”

“Please stop.” Your temple throbs with your pulse.

Nat’s laugh, cackle, really, is much less charming this time around. “Hold onto this for me, will you?” she basically croons. And then she sets the tip of what you assume is a plug at your asshole. “Anyway, don’t act like you don’t love this whore that you are.”

“Nat,” you whine, but then you stop because you can’t deny her. She makes a point of holding the plug in your ass at its widest point and then releasing it, enjoying the view of your ass swallowing it.

“Greedy little hole,” she notes. Then, she claps her hands together, makes a sound like she’s dusting them off, and gets up. “Well, that was fun- Oh, you didn’t start the dryer.”

“You- Nat, you’re not leaving me-”

“Sure am.” Beep. Beep-beep. The dryer starts loudly. Obnoxiously. Nat’s shadow passes over you, and then there’s the sound again, of camera shutters. “These are great. Can’t believe this is real life. Can you?”

“Nat! You are not leaving me here!”

“Thanks for letting me borrow your phone. Let me just send that over to myself…” The fact that she used your own goddamn phone to get a picture for this really drives the shame home. “Anyway, see you when the dryer’s done.”

Footsteps receding.

You shriek, shrill. Your ass closes tight around the plug, around the cum inside you, and you feel how utterly soaked your lower half is. And your upper half, from the laundry water.

“We’re fucking over!”

Nat’s laugh rings through the house.

could you do some melina and yelena quiet day in fluff ?

Melina knows the storm is coming in because Cat keeps pawing at her left leg, back arched and pink tongue curling out in a long yawn. It’s Tuesday. Nothing else. No desperate communications, no scrambled transmissions, no bullets, no blood, no baited breath.

Yelena gives a noise from the bed. She had wandered into Melina’s spaces sometime past six during the woman’s brief trip to get water and use the bathroom. Melina came back, half dead with sleep only to find the once widow curled up underneath her comforter.

She looked to the window curtains, sighed, and climbed back into bed.

Now it’s nearing 8:30, and they ought to be doing some kind of preparation for…something. Anything.

Melina climbs back into bed. Yelena mumbles something that she can’t make out before clinging to Melina with such drowsy dexterity that the older woman can’t help but think of those animal programs they sometimes watch late at night. Baby capuchins clinging to their mothers who bounced from tree to tree, all wide eyed and curious.

“Not quite a monkey,” Melina decides softly. Her fingers massage the base of her daughter’s spine, a constant reminder of safety after a too close call with a grazing bullet during those inescapable years in the Red Room. She doesn’t know the story, not at all. But the fact Yelena trusts enough to let her have contact is enough for her mother. The scar is ugly and thick. She traces it with gentle fingers, humming a cossack lullaby under her breath between yawns.

“Can we go to the exhibit today?” Yelena’s voice is thick with sleep.

“What time?”

Some half mumble that is either 10 or 3.

Melina laughs. “Yes. We will go.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Then you ought to get up and make yourself something to eat. I’m a scientist, my love, not some…” she can’t remember the word in English. Or Russian. Or any of the other 15 drilled into her mind from age six. So she offers suggestions. “We still have fruit.”

“Nyet.”

Melina gives a long suffering sigh. “Ona govorit ‘nyet’ etomu i nyet.” she mutters. “Skoro ty sam sebe otkazhesh'sya!”

“No, I don’t.”

“Case in point.” Her lips press against blonde hair. “We can go to a bakery, but I’m not paying for a single thing.”

Yelena swings her leg over Melina’s left thigh, a tangled affection made of some thick red quilt and leggings with a hole in the knee.

“Okay,” she decides. Her body weight is almost entirely on top of her mother. “I like the fruit there.”

“I know,” Melina laughs. With a solid poke to her left hip, Yelena’s head comes up to look at her makeshift pillow full in the face. “It’s what you say yes to.”

“I say yes to other things.”

“Such as?”

Yelena considers, and then boops her nose against Melina’s. “Good morning. I say yes to that.” Her mouth curls into a grin.

That’s something.

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

OMG HEAR ME OUT.. IMAGINE OLDER!NAT WITH A YOUNGER READER WHO BRUISES EASILY 😏 AND NATTY HAS A MARKING KINK AND LIKES TO ADMIRE ALL OF HER WORK (BRUISES) ON YOUR SKIN FROM SEX 😏😏 PLS NSFW SMUT SEX PLS GENTLE!NATTY BUT ALSO ROUGH!NATTY WITH SOFT!NATTY PLS

warnings: older!nat, younger!reader, hickeys, description of reader’s body (shes small/petite), slight mommy kink. NSFW

Her finger draws a line across your warm skin, thin and pale pointed finger tips, pressed right at the curve of where your ribs protrudes, Natasha hears the hiss of where she applies pressure on the bruising mark.

The older woman grins while her finger leaves the spot and then moves on to another, this time, she’s tracing over the underside of your breast, feigning some sort of innocence to the way she has your breath shaky.

“Tasha...” Though, meek and small, your voice carries a tone of annoyance to the way your girlfriend plays with you like you were some kind of toy.

She had promised she would behaved. You had your exams to study for, and you need to be well focused and read the notes.

“You promised me.”

She buried her face in the crook of your neck, her voice muffled, but you understood her clear as day as her words vibrated against your skin.

“I didn’t promise such thing, dear.” She heard you puff in annoyance. “But if you must insist I stop touching you then—”

You groaned at her words, rolling your eyes in tow as you gave her a look. “Whatever. Just...”

You felt her hands resume their wonderful tasks, cupping your breast through your oversized t-shirt. Biting your lip, you huffed and turned to your girlfriend who looked at you with storming emerald eyes.

She grinned, leaning to press a chaste kiss to your cheek, only to travel her mouth further south to your neck. She paused for a moment, gave your breasts a squeeze before her tongue gave your skin a lick.

“You’re so perfect, darling.” A hand left your chest and she trailed it down your naval, slowing down between your legs. She paused, then reached out to grip your thighs and part your legs apart.

She knew you bruised easily and with the tight grip on the flesh of your inner thigh, there was no doubt you’d be purple and pink by tonight.

“Tasha—”

She shook her head, unable to answer you as she nipped your fragile skin in tow. You’d be marked by the end of the night, littered in growing and healing bruises, Natasha would have a field day by the morning as she watched you slather on makeup to cover them up.

She always did adore the way they painted your skin like a canvas. And as she laid you down onto the bed on your back, letting her slip away so she could now lay between your legs.

“Can you recite your notes for me, dear?”

The older woman looked at you as she fluttered her eyes in innocence. Biting your lip, you couldn’t say no to her, especially with how close she was near your core. As you nodded, the redhead grinned and she disappeared between.

You opened your mouth to speak, but merely nothing came out as you whimpered in tow. Natasha was grinning wide between your legs and as she kissed you through your thin shorts, your breath was shaky.

“Keep going, love.” A kiss to your thigh, another one to your left. “Mommy will reward your little body soon.”

Naughty Girls

You and your mommy, Natasha, have some fun during movie time. Until you misbehave.

Mommy kink, man handling, se*x toy usage (dildo), implied age gap, reader gets penetrated, vaginal penetration, coc*k warming, grinding, thigh riding, sex with clothes on, WLW sex, Natasha gives reader neck hickies, Reader gets called puppy, baby, honey and little girl, reader comes without permission, implied mutual consent, degradation, squirting, light begging, implied punishment, reader misbehaves, implied rules

Hurrah! I'm alive! Thank you for being patient :)💕

You do not have permission to translate and or repost this story thank you :)

Your head felt warm and fuzzy, a tingling sensation rippling up and down your spine. A warm chuckle sounded from beside you. "Is my little girl having some fun?"

The TV was still on, a natural wildlife documentary you had quickly forgotten about. You whimpered softly, still feeling dizzy and near drunk from the cock that Natasha had pushed into you. Warm wet slick smeared over your soft inner thighs, shorts and hoodie uncomfortably hot despite the cool night air.

"My baby still needs to learn some manners apparently." You could hear the smirk in her voice. "Use your big girl words, honey."

---

"Mommy-" you whined softly in frustration, hips grinding down against the sofa covers.

"Please, please."

Her arms tightly wrapped around your waist before you were settled in her lap. Mommy's knee wedged itself between your thighs, smoothly grinding against the dildo's base. Natasha's eyes were bright, pinning you in place easily. She smiled. The flickering lights from the TV wreathed her fluffy baby hairs.

The short rocking motions increased the pressure inside you, silicone ridges dragging and pushing. A needy keen escaped from your parted mouth, head falling back in pleasure.

Natasha apparently wasn't satisfied, pulling you forward onto her thigh. Her large callused hands slayed out over your waist before forcefully grinding your hips in tight circles. Mommy harshly sucked marks into your skin. Your swollen clit rubbed against soaked panties.

"Does that feel good puppy?" The coil in your tummy writhed and twisted tightly, pussy clamping against the toy. Your head felt hazy, hands clumsily fisted in Natasha's shirt.

The pleasure crested and then burst abruptly. You whined and moaned needily as your pussy clenched and fluttered against the toy, wanting more as you tried to grind down on Mommy. A warm wetness seeped out from around the toy.

Natasha's hands tightened painfully around your hips. "Little girl-" Her tone was dark yet amused. "Did I say you could cum?"

Your eyes widened when you realised your mistake. Mommy's smile grew wider.

I was not expecting a whole FIC?? Okay this is so good and I'm LIVING for the rough concepts rn (possessive natasha..) the boundaries thing seems Sooo in character for her and the red room mention. i really love the red room mention (maybe she doesn't get saved like one on one by clint and instead gets free as a side consquence of shield taking down the red room?) because it really makes sense knowing good from bad but choosing bad just because, and the personality(?) contrast between Natasha's moods is so interesting as well💕

I feel so spoiled rn with this whole background analysis on a completely unrelated side note... can we platonically kiss in the rain and get married?🥰🧐 /j Also congrats btw you have managed to get me motivated to reread the WHOLE dark nat series again so that I can apply this background insight to their interactions🥲

the domestic realm

pairing: dark!nat/f!reader

summary:

“I’m hungry,” you mumble. “Go make me a sandwich.”

She scoffs, slipping her hand under your hoodie to scratch at your back. “You just set women back by, like, five decades.”

additional notes: sfw drabble, kidnapping, dark!nat but shes soft and lazy, stockholm syndrome central, dark domestic fluff redux

series: one, two, three, ao3

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since SOMEONE hasn't written anything new w/nat and cigs..

older!nat smoking a cigarette as younger!reader passes by her and reader looks lost and reader IS lost bc why would an innocent young thing like reader be in that part of town?

warnings: older!nat, younger!reader, stranger danger, use of cigarettes and implied underaged smoking. SFW

Natasha raised a brow at you. “What’re you doing on this side of town, sweetheart?”

She grins at the way your face flushes in response to the nickname, even more so as you tuck fallen strands of hair behind your ear

“I- I don’t think I took the right bus home.”

The older woman cocked her head, the cigarette between her fingers burning with a smell as she shook the ashes off the tip. The redhead took a hit, inhaling softly before she exhaled with a puff of smoke leaving her.

“What bus did you take, hon?”

You swayed in your spot. “The forty one.”

Natasha clicked her tongue and shook her head, your eyes widened and your cheeks warmed at the way the stranger’s gaze almost made you feel hot and bothered.

You could tell she wasn’t part of town. But just somehow, the way she dressed, clad in a leather jacket, black skinny jeans that hugged her toned thighs, and the under-the-knee-boots told you everything.

Her flaming red hair had had you in a trance as she looked down at you. Her height was almost more like and you suddenly felt insecure for being so meek and inexperienced in front of a woman who looked like she could be old enough to be your mom.

“That bus heads upstate,” she took another inhale of her cigarette, “unless that’s where you’re heading?”

You shook your head, a frown present on your lips. You worried that you were going to be late in getting home. It was only five but you had planned to be back by six and you knew with how far you had gone, there was no way you’d be on time.

“No, miss. I live further down.”

She hummed, fluttering her lashes at your gaze before she outstretched her arm and offered you her cigarette. “Want some?”

You blinked curiously at the woman. “I’m not allowed to smoke, miss.”

The redhead looked at you, her eyes turned into slits, her emerald eyes like snakes staring right at you. She took a moment before she took back her hand, dropping her cigarette onto the floor where she stomped on it.

“Well, that’s too bad.” She sighed, peeling herself off the wall before she stood straight. “I’ll give you a ride home, sweetheart.”

You beamed at her offer, making the older woman grin at your eagerness to get in a car with her. The young and naive. She could have fun with you. You looked like a dyke, and her gaydar is never off.

“Really?”

She shrugged. “Why not? I’m going down south too.”

Your eyes widened and Natasha could help but mock it as she stood over you, and as she started walking, with you behind her into tow, the silence returned.

“Oh, and stop calling me miss. You make me feel like I’m fifty. I’m only forty, dear.”

If meant to be evil and mean... why be hot and give me back scratches and call me baby?🤨 I LOVE THIS NEW CHAPTER BTW INCREDIBLE, SHOWSTOPPING

the domestic realm

pairing: dark!nat/f!reader

summary:

“I’m hungry,” you mumble. “Go make me a sandwich.”

She scoffs, slipping her hand under your hoodie to scratch at your back. “You just set women back by, like, five decades.”

additional notes: sfw drabble, kidnapping, dark!nat but shes soft and lazy, stockholm syndrome central, dark domestic fluff redux

series: one, two, three, ao3

Keep reading