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scarlettsandmaroons · 1 year

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it came like a postcard | n. romanoff

about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist

pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader

chapter twelve | chapter thirteen: she stayed the same

chapter summary: there was nothing more bitterly endearing than the postcards she'd receive of you every year. postcards from your travels, milestones, everyday life. a life that she was not a part of anymore. a life that she was exiled from until she finally sees you again.

warnings: angst; non-aggressive fighting, minimal shouting, one-sided anger, guilt. smut; dom!natasha romanoff x sub!reader | minimal mommy kink, degradation, slight choking, hair-pulling, spanking, light hints of exhibitionism. cheating, possessiveness

a/n: and she lives!!! hi! i'm alive. i know i've been completely m.i.a for 2 months, but i have been terribly busy, and i desperately needed to take time for myself. regardless, i am back. and i really do thank you for the anons who worry about me, and the people who asked how i've been. i see those messages, i just didn't have the mental capacity to reply yet, but really it means a lot that people care enough to ask. i love you all always! mwa

hands tugged at your hair.

you chanted billy's name in your head.

this was supposed to be done in your honeymoon. but you knew your fiance would never have it in him to pull your hair so hard that your body is forced to arch back.

billy billy billy billy billy billy billy billy billy.

"children always think they do it better than their parents. always so full of themselves," she whispered in your ear, her hand snaking to wrap around your throat to hold you harder against her chest, her lips on your ear. your left knee was barely staying atop your vanity, your arm was extended to hold yourself up, pushing against the mirror while your other was reaching back for her neck.

for a moment, you got a glimpse of yourself; your mouth open, your back arched, your lace—oh so expensive—dress hiked up to your hips, and your boyfriend's mother whispering in your ear: "but let's be honest. mothers always do best."

and then with some repulse, she curls her fingers inside you. and you have let the loudest moan you have ever in years.

"aww," she pitied. "you. fucking. whore. you missed me haven't you?"

you don't know how you got there. but she does. she remembers every second that led up to that moment right there.

from the christmas cards billy would send home of the two of you kissing, or holding hands, or on some trip, to finally, an invitation.

she traced your golden name on the front of the card, and every letter she knew you so carefully wrote for every invite. she ran her fingers through the hard paper, most especially the front. basking in its memory of your touch, hoping that she may feel the last bit of the touch you left on it.

and then suddenly, she's there. her son, the same one she hadn't seen in so long was there. he was near the front shaking hands with the entering guests. she was at the back, near the snacks table. she was holding a glass of champagne, an arm crossed over her body.

and then he saw her.

the way he walked down the aisle towards her in his white suit, and a black handkerchief so neatly tucked in his pocket. his hair slicked back, his shoulders broader, him a little taller.

he extends his hand for a handshake before he gently pulled himself into almost a two second hug that merely truly was a pat on the back and a gentle hi.

"i didn't think you'd come," he said.

"i was invited, wasn't i?"

he cleared his throat, looking away. "yes," he says.

there was a silent pause. "where's the lucky girl?" she asks, taking a sip of her drink.

she sensed hesitation in him. she knew he wanted to hug her, to hold her, to feel her motherly warmth like he hadn't for a long time. but there was a line between them. while they hadn't talked in years, there was a part of her that wondered if what kept them apart was you. had you told him? if you had, she wouldn't be here wouldn't she? had you told him she made you uncomfortable then? maybe something less worse than her fucking you. had you initiated the no contact?

but who was she kidding really? she knew it's her. it's always her. she forced a wedge between them because she hadn't called. because she hadn't asked how he's been, where he went. because the guilt hit her finally. because she was too much of a coward.

he cleared his throat again. "she wouldn't want to see you," he'd said in his big manly voice.

she was fazed almost—his voice had grown so much. he was no longer the 12 year old who would insist he deserves a bowl of ice cream through the gap between his teeth and his lisp; he was no longer the 18 year old who demanded her to give his bestfriend a better grade.

he was no longer the kid she used to take on midnight motorcycle rides, the kid she'd tuck to bed after reading a children's book to, the kid she'd hug to sleep in her bed in wanda's absence.

he was all grown up. and she should assume. so were you.

and you were.

she knew that because she watched you grow in the postcards she was sent. but it hadn't truly hit her until she found you. until she saw you through your vanity mirror. your face looked more mature, your hair was different. something about what she saw made her think that you were no longer the girl who was struggling to keep it down, laughing while trying to walk the pavement to the door from your dinner date.

so much of you had changed. and she knew that from a mere glimpse of you.

and then she caught your eye.

she hadn't realized how much more your face could drop until she saw it happen. it's like your face became too foreign of your smile. like you hadn't done it properly for awhile.

"mrs. romanoff," you said.

she felt chills, a sharp line that went down her back, and then goosebumps on her arm. mostly she felt something in her heart, a small pinch to the chest at how truly you've grown. away from her, apart from her, distanced from her reach. your voice was a little deeper, more controlled, smoother. more so, it was cold. free of any form of emotion, or love for her name.

you spoke like a stranger. like someone who hadn't told her "i love you". like someone who hadn't memorized her name. like someone who's never said it.

"y/n." she swallowed the lump in her throat. "how are you?"

"i'm good." you tell her. "billy's outside."

"i know, i saw."

"then why are you here?"

you weren't looking at her. in fact, you continued on your routine like she wasn't there at all.

"i wanted to see you."

"why?"

thoughts raced her mind. the words brewed in her stomach, it came up her throat but she swallowed it back down, only allowing a lie to come out of her mouth. "i wanted to congratulate you."

"i think you're better off congratulating your son than your former student, don't you think?"

she didn't say anything. she couldn't. but she couldn't leave either. she's here. she's a few steps away from you. seven years she's waited for this. what is stopping her? why couldn't she say more? why couldn't she come closer?

"why did you leave?" she finally said after what felt like an eternity. "why did you leave me, y/n?"

you froze.

slowly, you turned to face her. "you are the last person to ever have the right to ask me that."

"i always do what i don't have the right to, don't i?"

you chuckled bitterly. "you do," you tell her. "somehow, i get the sense you're proud of it."

"makes life more fun."

"was it fun?"

"what?

"was it entertaining to you, mrs. romanoff?" anger was starting to build up your voice. memories of your freshman year flashed through your mind.

"what is?"

and she seemed as clueless as ever. so you stopped. you took a deep breath, let yourself calm down for a bit. and you swallowed every word that now might be your only chance of saying.

'it's been seven years.' you reminded yourself in your head. 'i'm happy with billy. i don't need this. i've moved on.'

except you haven't. you wanted to scream at her. you were only nineteen. and frankly, you actually loved her. and she used you. she made you betray the two people who cared for you over some revenge she was never entitled to pull you in the middle of.

"i think you should go now," you tell her, unable to look even at her figure through the mirror.

she didn't move. she didn't say anything. she was just standing there, as if waiting.

"mrs. romanoff, i'm sure you and your wife has been assigned seat outside," you say breaking through the silence. "please."

"was that why you left?"

you weren't sure what about her words flipped a switch inside you that all the words, the anger, the feelings, the emotions that you swallowed came hurling back up. but you kept it in. you kept it in your throat just enough that you were able to turn to her slowly, finally meeting the eyes you were so keen on denying you longed for; and tell her in the slowest way possible, "what?".

"was my wife the reason you left?"

your face wrinkled in so much disbelief at how nonchalant she was. at how she asked that as if she were only truly curious without care. more so at how she deliberately left out the questions that she should be asking.

'are you okay?'

'were you okay before?'

'after all these years, are you okay?'

at most, what she should be saying is 'i'm sorry'. but no, who would natasha romanoff be if not an unapologetic disciplinarian who likes to take advantage of her students to get back at her cheating wife.

"you have some nerve, mrs. romanoff," you say with such infliction she physically felt all your rage from just a simple sentence. "you have some nerve even coming here after what you did."

you, at the point, were already facing her, finger pushing at her from across the tight room. your bridesmaids are waiting outside, your mother who's fresh out of rehab for the 9th time, and your stylists who you all made wait so you can escape to the small closet with the vanity and breath.

"you left," she told you with not a hint of anger, or resentment, but rather you got an ounce of condescension as if you were back in her classroom, just the two of you, and she points out a fact you already knew.

it was ironic how it riled you up the same way it used to. but truly, while things remain as stronger than time could ever be, things change. the chill down your spine wasn't like the goosebumps you'd get before. it was sharp, fast. like a calculated knife swiping across your skin just enough to hurt, but never enough to draw blood. there was a pulse not where you used to always find it where it shouldn't be, not between your legs but in your temples.

and suddenly you were back to being the 18 year old demanding that she looks at you. that she stops ignoring you.

except this time, you weren't sure what you were demanding her of. were you demanding that she understands? that she apologizes? that she accepts her fault?

"you used me!" you yelled at her, emotion flowing out of your mouth. "i was ninenteen! i was an innocent kid, and you used me!"

"i—" you didn't know what she was trying to say. was she going to deny it? was she going to apologize?

something inside you regretted that you didn't let her say anything. but you knew, had she looked at you with sympathetic eyes, had she apologized, had her body relaxed, had she looked at you like she'd loved you for the longest time, even if it were as fake as everything she used to show you; all anger will cease.

"it wasn't real." your throat closed. and your tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. and she wasn't doing anything. not frozen—just unwilling to move. and somehow, the way she looked at you, straight through you like she's watching tv, made you realize that... she wouldn't understand. "but it was real to me."

pause.

you hear murmuring outside until it stopped altogether. and then you heard footsteps. then a knock.

"babe, are you ready?"

billy.

it took you all the power you knew you had barely of to tear your gaze away from her and wipe your tears.

"30 minutes baby," you shout at him back before you realized you actually wanted to escape and decided to head for the door to go to your fiancé.

"i'm sure you'd look absolutely perfect," you hear a smile from his voice. "i'll come back in a bit, i'll just talk to the coordinator."

natasha stops you in your tracks right when you were about to pass her. right when your arms were not even an inch apart, so close to brushing but far apart that your skins never touched.

"im sorry," she whispered. you feel her reach for you, then her hand holds yours, and your skin burns against hers with all the longing of the seven years packed with her absence.

you looked at her. it was no crack in her stoicism; it completely shattered before you. and then you finally see her. you see her shoulders drop, and the ends of her lips twitching. you see her emerald green eyes, the way it craves for you; her eyebrows, the way they plead for you. you see her, you see her look at you, you see the way she calls for you.

"please don't go," she whispers so intimately. even in an empty room, she kept it so closely between the two of you. the warmth of her words, the heat of her skin, too close that it melts you.

and while reason fought with you. while wanda's voice repeats a 'she used you' in your head, it was always countered with 'but she won't be here had it not been real'.

her touch lingers. and it burns, and her warmth set you aflame. and you were on fire. your robe felt like it was raging with flames. and your body aches.

with no further thought, you pull her into a searing kiss. your arms took hold of her red locks. shifting constantly, unable to get enough of the feeling of her strands entangled between your fingers.

her hands roam around your body, taking in as much of you as she could. you could feel her hands everywhere, like she was trying to fit seven years worth of you in a minute. and you are completely unable to compose yourself, moving your body so impossibly closer, looking for more ways to feel her; from desperately trying to hang your leg by her waist, to forcefully pulling yourself against her that you feel she might fall.

your kiss was wet, sloppy, hungry, desperate, passionate, everything that set your soul alight. saliva drips from your mouth down to your chin. you weren't aware whose it was. but you feel her snake a hand in between you and she swipes a thumb under your lips to clean it up.

she pulls away a little looking at you while she sucks the saliva off her thumb. and that—that very gesture, the way she looked at you, the way her other hand holds your lower back and supports your body that hers is so heavily pressed on—was what silenced all reason in your mind.

you grabbed her lose tie, and her hand instinctively goes to grip your neck, and you both pull each other back into your kiss. this time, you walk back, pulling her in the process until you hit your vanity.

you both scrambled to get each other's clothes off, but to no avail, she settles with your robe barely falling off your shoulders, and her silk white top untucked.

you were sure if anyone were outside, that the grunts, the breaths, the subtle whimpers were everything that they can hear. and when you should truly care most, when your soon-to-be husband is within the building welcoming guests for your own wedding that's to happen in about an hour, and the people who matter most has seen his mother enter the room which the only noises coming out of at this moment were your wet kissing, this moment when reason fights hard for a place in your head, you don't care.

"don't..." you stopped her when she slows down. when she gently tries to lift you up the vanity while a hand runs up your thigh so soft, so smooth, so teasing. when her kisses slows down, and she takes more control, and it cleans up a little. you moved away, taking grasp of her wrist. "don't make love to me. at the very least, you owe it to billy to let him have that."

you see something inside her dull. the flurry of colors behind her green eyes gets the tiniest gray tint. and she stiffened.

for a moment you thought she'd stop. but then her features hardens, her jaw clenches, her shoulders raise.

and then she harshly took a handful of your hair and pulled your head back until you were practically resisting of pain and fear she might break it. her lips hover not even an inch above yours as she closely examines your face.

"if you wanted to be fucked hard, you could've just said so," she tells you. and then she manouvers you around, carrying you and practically throwing you against the wall, her body pressing heavily on yours. "but that's my bad, of course you want to be fucked," she says. "you're a slut."

she rode up your robe, and your lace dress underneath it, spreading your legs further apart until one of your knees lay heavily on the edge of your table.

"please..." you whimpered, face pushed hard against the cold surface of the mirror.

she trailed a soft line up your leg, her touch spreading fire to your skin, a pulse to your insides, heat to your core.

your whimpers filled your room. the sound of your submission, the smell of your desire filled her senses. she never thought a day would come that she would have you in her hands again. most especially, not in this way.

"you can be patient, no?"

you gasped when she cupped your sex with her palm. she lowered her body, and pressed it hard against your own. her other hand tucks a portion of your hair behind your ear so it's not covering your eyes.

"i think, you need to learn to be patient, darling," she whispers against your ear.

you felt her weight. and her warmth, and somehow, with the very little reason left in your body, you remembered the door. you remembered the sound it made when billy knocked on it.

billy.

your billy.

her son billy.

you couldn't move. the weight of her body held you in place. but you forced your hand to find the back of her head. you resisted the moans. you resisted the uncontrollable urge to grind against her arm by forcing yourself still.

"nat, we can't," you whispered. "we can't do this here."

suddenly, she was rubbing your pussy. with the entirety of her palm. she was rubbing your swollen nub, and your hole, and everything that her palm covered. your mouth dropped wide open to let out the most animalistic moan you had absolutely no control of. and then she pulls your hair back so your ear is right where her lips were at.

"says who?" she pushed. "you're an adult now, you can do whatever you want."

and then there was wanda.

and then wanda was whispering in your head: "you're just a kid,"—and you wanted to pull away. "she shouldn't have taken advantage of you." you can't move. your body refused to. instead, you drank on her heat, and her warmth, and her. "she was trying to get her revenge on me."

your mind said no. you hoped your body was strong enough to do the same. it wasn't. instead, you could feel the tears forming in your eyes as your inhibitions slowly faded away.

you were like a puppy in heat. squirming under her, unable to control what desire flowed through your veins. "then tell me, who do you belong to?" she said, her voice a seductive whisper. "i don't touch what's not mine."

you chose to silent the thoughts that screamed in your head. the voices that shouted of anger, reason desperately trying to be heard.

"you." your voice was eager and you had absolutely no remorse for your words. "i belong to you." and somehow, though disguised by the desire you had for her, in your very core, and hers, you knew it was true.

so just like that, her fingers started rubbing tight circles against your clit. the pressure from her touch even against your clothed core emitting a loud pornographic moan from you that even you didn't know you can make.

"such a slutty little mouth you have," she cooed against your ear, holding you still with her hand against your throat and the other rubbing your center. "i want to hear all the sounds that pretty little mouth can make."

you grinded against her fingers, your eyes closing shut as you've fully given into the pleasure of her touch, intoxicated by the kisses she left across your back.

"y/n? are you okay?" but then you heard his voice from the other side of the door, and the moment you did, natasha's finger entered your dripping cunt with no warning, starting in an incredibly fast pace, pumping into you hard and fast.

your eyes shot open, thinking—hoping that after hearing his voice, the desire you have for the lady fucking you right now would be washed away by the thought of the man you're meant to marry in half an hour. you thought you'd push natasha away and run back into the arms of your fiance.

but when your head turned towards the door and all you thought then was the woman behind you, you knew that not even your fiance's voice, his face, or him can control what eager desire you had for the woman. the desire you've long had for her.

"y/n, what's going on, i can hear your voice. are you crying?" the man asked again, interrupting the moans you tried hard to swallow down.

"i..." you managed to let out, looking pleadingly at the woman with eyes that wished for her to slow down.

"go on. answer him," she said, completely ignoring you as she added on another finger, your hips grinding against her palm for some friction against your clit. "or would you rather he hears your slutty moans?"

you could feel that coil in your stomach beginning to tighten with your eyes starting to water in sheer pleasure. you turned your head back towards the door, huffing as you held back your moans, chasing for your orgasm.

"im okay, billy!" you practically yelped his name coming out as an unintentional moan when you've reached the peak of your orgasm, having now natasha help you ride it down. "im..." you panted. "im okay. just trying to get into my tight dress." you said.

"do you need me to help you?" he says, then he chuckled, "i know im not meant to see my bride but i'll close my eyes!" though you had no remorse for your actions, not for your words, not for your desires, billy's innocence didn't fail to make your heart ache in guilt.

you opened your mouth in an attempt to speak but before any words could come out of your throat, natasha's fingers had already beaten them as it slid through your mouth, hearing a soft, "clean them."from natasha.

the way she had her fingers in your mouth; the way she spoke, encouraged, urged when her son was merely a door away from her made you wonder if she felt what you did at this moment: guilt. her son being outside should make what she's doing with you slightly harder but it didn't. natasha was not troubled by any guilt as she bent you down the table, holding you down with both of your hands on your back, her hand keeping them in place.

she pulled your panties down, and the skirt of your dress even further up; her eyes falling immediately on your ass that she stared at with admiration. then her hand rubbed softly against your exposed ass.

she could hear your whimpers, that moan you let out when you felt the cold air against your dripping cunt, or the heavy breaths of you just waiting for what she'd do next.

her fingers ran through your folds, smearing the wetness that gathered on your hole. she bent down, her body pressing against you and her mouth on your ear.

"you're not married yet so there wont be anything wrong if i do..." she trailed off her words into a sudden slap on your ass that had you yelping in pain.

"what was that?" billy asked. "y/n, are you sure you're okay?" you didn't say anything. "will you open the door for me please?"

another slap was planted on your ass. and a couple more that in your head you counted to be 15. each one leaving a hard painful sting on your skin that as much as it shouldnt have, had added into the pleasure of having been bent across the island, exposed under natasha's eyes.

"billy..." you huffed, tears falling from your eyes in both pain and pleasure of natasha's every slap. "i think you should... go," you said, heavy breaths in between your words.

there was silence.

"y/n i—" he hesitated.

you hummed feeling natasha's fingers ghosting against your clit again. "is my little whore scared that her boyfriend would hear her slutty moans?" natasha asked, her fingers lightly pinching your clit that sent waves of pleasure over your stomach.

you whimpered, letting out a weak yes before suddenly feeling her entering 3 fingers inside of you. fucking you in a merciless pace that had you moaning so loud you were sure billy heard every slutty moan that came out from your lips.

"your pussy is so tight, baby."

but frankly, you didnt care. you were far too focused on the pleasure natasha is giving you that if everyone were to hear you, you won't even bother. the way her fingers pumped into you, filling you up and sending you over the edge with every twist and every shift in angle.

"y/n, my mother is here..." he finally says. reason shot up your brain. and you feel a stutter in natasha's pace. but she didn't stop. she continued on, now even harder than ever that you feel you are losing your mind. "have you... gotten the chance to talk to her?"

"oh god mommy please..." you moaned out, unable to keep it in, moving your hips to match every thrust of her expert fingers. "please... please... please..."

your mind left no space for billy though you try to force him in it. you feel his hesitation. you feel his doubts. you know the questions that raise his mind. but you didn't care. you were chasing the high you have longing for, for years.

"you're such a desperate little whore aren't you?" she cooed. "whores dont get to come."

she pulled out.

and then it dies down.

you came back from your high, the cloud from your judgement faded. and you were suddenly scrambling to cover yourself before billy could even think of unlocking the door with the key on the desk outside.

you didn't think of looking at natasha. not one second. not even at her white-stained trousers, or her brown boots underneath. you fixed your hair, you closed your robe, and you opened the door to billy, welcoming him to yet another one of your mistakes.

natasha remained invisible behind you.

she was set to the side, flicked off, disregarded. as she should've. then regret surged through your muscle, guilt through your every vein.

what had you done?

and once again, as he always have, and as he promised to always do, he opened his arms for you, welcoming you into his warmth, washing you away of your sins, as if his hug reinstills you of your virtues, and your truth, and who you are, which is beyond this, which is all that he truly sees.

he spared a glance at natasha, before leading you out of the room, safe in his arms, safe from harms way. and neither of you ever looked back.

you walked out on her.

for the second time.

but this time, she actually saw you. she saw you walk out of the door, she saw you leave, she saw you choose someone who isn't her.

this time she wasn't holding any flowers as she walked through the door of her home. water dripping from her hair, petals drenched with the heavy showers of what she read her city should be clear of for today.

this time, her wife wasn't in the kitchen. lifeless flowers on the floor yet they're of color, a candle rolled off an empty paper bag by the threshold.

this time, no realization hit her. her brain didn't have to process anything, she didn't have to stand frozen, with her hands shaking denying every bad thought that raced her brain.

this time, she had no wife to run to. no wife to pull off the floor to question what she'd done to you. no wife to cry to her to tell her you had ran off with billy. no wife to tell her you were gone. that your mother was being released, and you chose to go back to her with billy.

you left her before. you left her again.

and much like the last, she no longer has you. except this time, she won't ever have you back.

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scarlettsandmaroons · 1 year

Text

shiny family | n. romanoff

about me | series masterlist | natasha romanoff masterlist

pairing: professor!natasha romanoff x collegestudent!reader

chapter eight | chapter nine: for some it was paradise

chapter summary: you were tired of the hot and cold. you were tired of her. you were tired. so much so that you wish you just never met her. and frankly, she feels the same.

warnings: smut; minimal spanking, slight manhandling, choking | small mommy kink | dom!natasha romanoff, slightly bratty but sub!reader. angst; fight. unedited, long.

a/n: hi, it's me again. I KNOOOW IT'S BEEN TOO LONG. but oh lord dear god, have i been busy 😭 but i hope you like this one. had a fun time planning it out in my head. also this is kinda long, and ugly because I NEVER PROOFREAD ANYTHING. but i'll definitely get around to proofreading everything once i wrap up the series.

the box was wet from your sweating hands. your hands has been doing that for a bit now, you weren't sure when it started. "happy birthday, babe," you smiled, your palms unconsiously taking turns rubbing down your sides which billy noticed.

he lazily stood up the couch to put his body against yours, and rest his chin on your head. "baby, you know you didn't have to," he whispers. he set your gift down before he took your wrists and had your palms rub against his shirt instead. "you've given me too much already," he says, his voice honeyed and soft.

he was right. you've given him a gift for every day that led up to his birthday. you were never a gift giver. but you just got the need to get him something. and the urge became compelling the more you saw the smile on his face and realized how much you'd hate if it faded away.

"you're the best present i could ever have. you're enough," he kissed your forehead, allowing a gap between you when his hands left yours on his lower back so it can hold your waist instead. "you know that right?" he was looking at you so intently. so lovingly.

you smiled. the brown in his eyes were a lot brighter than yours. you were always jealous of that. you could clearly see the lines that make up his iris, and the dark outline around it. it was always unlike his mother's who had blue-green eyes. wanda had green eyes.

natasha had green eyes.

she's not his biological mother, but she had green eyes.

you always liked mrs. romanoff's green eyes.

you always liked mrs. romanoff.

and there she goes again, natasha's in your thoughts again.

natasha natasha natasha natasha.

someone cleared their throat.

and by what instinct, you pulled away, lightly hitting his chest and laughing, "don't be so cheesy," you don't know why you said that. why did you say that? why did you say that?

you were sure he noticed, you could feel his eyes on you for a bit, but you weren't looking. you were too busy looking around as if you'd been caught in what mischievous act hugging your boyfriend was.

"happy birthday, bill."

mrs. romanoff.

the moment she caught your eyes, you couldn't look away. no matter how hard you tried. no matter how much you wanted to. she took every bit of your attention. and every bit of you. and you saw her lips move, but your ears couldn't hear anything other than her grunts, and your moans, and her skin slapping against yours.

"please... i need you."

you weren't sure what she was doing to you. what spell does she have on you? something was swirling in your gut, and pinching at your heart, and burning your skin, and you couldn't comprehend the mix of feelings. the only thing you knew was that she didn't look at you. she didn't look at you. she didn't look at you. she didn't look at you.

"y/n, babe, are you okay?"

she didn't look at you.

"does momma still make you nervous?"

she came in, and then she left as if you weren't there.

"bubba, you know she's nice. you guys were making progress, weren't you?"

there was not one second that her green eyes took interest in looking at you.

"she likes you."

why didn't she look at you.

"you don't have to be afraid of her."

why won't she look at you?

"okay?"

you didn't break out of the void that's your thoughts until you felt his hand on your shoulder. and by then he was already standing so close to you again, and looking at you with the same loving gaze as he was before. you opened your mouth, and silence poured out of your lips.

then mrs. maximoff saved you.

you heard her call billy from upstairs for plates.

billy runs his hand down your arm before smiling at you, "i'm sorry. i promise you'll have me all to yourself tonight," he says before running off to his mother.

you couldn't think. natasha took too much of your brain again. and your body had to fend for itself. your feet took you to the kitchen, and your hands grabbed everything in sight to make yourself busy. natasha was there. your body knew that much, and decided that this is where you should be. your body knows a lot about natasha. natasha is the only thing your body knows. so when your brain shuts down, your body escapes to the only thing it knows.

you don't what you were doing there. you wanted to get out. you needed to. you needed to breathe. natasha was by the counter. you were in the small round table near the entrance. you couldn't see her. you had your back against her.

"hey...," you said.

nothing.

then you felt a swift breeze behind you.

she left.

and you felt your heart crack just a little.

your heart was full of cracks. your heart has been full of cracks since the first moment you saw her. but nothing would ever compare to the shattered pieces your heart is barely held into right now.

what had you done?

you fucked her, that's what. a married woman—your boyfriend's mother fucked you and you let her.

but no, you were fine. she made you eggs the day after. she let her fingertips wander off to your skin too long when she passed by. she pulled your hair to one side so she can lay her warm touch on your bare neck while you sit in her office chair and she stands behind you. she... let you look at her. she smiled at you.

she was fine.

you were fine.

"what the hell is wrong with you?"

people started pouring in before lunch. you've never once recognized a face among the stream of people that went straight to the back yard where billy's "wanda-insisted-barbecue-party" took place. but you weren't really paying attention. you were too busy eyeing natasha from the other side of the hallway.

she came in the kitchen the moment you left. and since then, you've been standing in the dining room, across the hall even when people trampled into the house and you could only see nothing but an occasional glimpse of her smoking a cigarette in a black fitted dress between the gaps of figures that came running in.

your phone dinged. and it was billy looking for you. he texted you a photo of the plate he prepared for you and an emoji with its tongue out. "i set aside your favorite. come out, where are you?" his text read.

you could've gone out. after all it was the right thing to do. your boyfriend was looking for you and was right outside. but the people in the hallways were clearing up, and by the time the door closed, you marched, not to your boyfriend, but to who your feet knew you wanted more.

"what the hell is wrong with you?"

she didn't look at you, "shut your mouth. people can hear you," she says, barely acknowledging your presence.

a wave of deja vu hits you.

but not the same as to where you'd cry and blame her for being mean.

"shut my mouth?" you chuckled, "i thought you'd be the type to like it wide open," you challenged.

she didn't do anything at first. she was waiting until the very moment the noise outside came muffled when the sliding door to the backyard closed.

and then she smiled. your chest shrunk. she flicked of her cigarette and you saw it fly to the floor.

and then she had your neck in a bruising hold. so tight you could barely breath. she dragged you to the counter, her body pushing against yours, and her eyes burning with all the emotion you can no longer read.

she pushed your back to lay on the surface, pinning your wrist above your head. "i told you to shut your mouth didn't i?"

for a moment, all reason turned to the liquid you feel wet your underwear. but you resisted, you held the hand holding your neck, tapping out when tears started forming your eyes from the lack of air.

and then she let you go completely, stepping far, and facing away.

you were catching all the air you lost, your body melting to the floor where you kneeled with your back against the island's side, your hand clutching your chest.

but you didn't step down. never against her again. "you fuck me and pretend i don't exist. how does that work?" you say, meaning to sound much angrier but the air you caught onto didn't allow anything other than a few breathless words.

a classmate of yours delivered you a letter from mrs. romanoff a week ago. it was a transfer letter from her class to ms. parker's with her signature on it. she was letting you go.

when you came to class the day after, someone was already sitting on the seat you practically claimed was your own. the one behind that big guy who you'd hide behind of.

she didn't care that you were there though. she didn't care about you at all. she completely ignored your blatant chasing of her in the hallways, or your greetings, or your "why are you transferring me?"

she started locking her office door for anyone who might barge into it. she completely ignores your very being in dinner, looking at you as if she can see the wall through your fading existence. she stopped making you breakfast, or being in the same room as you.

she stopped looking at you.

"look at me!" you say when your energy regains and you stand up. "what had i ever done to you! all i've ever wanted was for you to see me...," your voice cracks. "i don't know why i seek for your validation so much. why i care for what you think. why i let you define who i am. why do i live for you?"

"y/n...," she whispers into a warning.

"no. why? why? why do i care so much for you. why can't i stay away from you? why do i keep on chasing after you, running after you, pulling you, begging you. why can't i live when you don't look at me?" tears started running down your cheeks. you weren't sure why, all you were sure of was that you wanted to stop. you wanted everything to stop. you wanted her to leave your life forever because until she came, you were fine. why did she have to come? why did she have to ruin you? "you know what? i will give up anything to not have met you," you blurt out when you receive zero response from her frozen body. "i wish i never met you, mrs. romanoff."

"how do you think i feel?"

"what?"

she turned around. "how do you think i felt when i found out that the girl i liked was the same girl my son liked?"

you didn't know what to say. memories came tumbling down your mind, tangled to knots. thoughts were nothing but a mere "what?". and by then you just though it best to stay silent.

"you came into my office. you were gutsy, you were brave, and i thought: great, another student i can break. but you were pretty, and you were awkward, and sweet. and the moment i entered my class, you were the first person i saw," the distance between you two was more than you were comfortable of. you wanted her closer. but you didn't move. and she, she was already pulling you closer by her eyes, what more could she do? "i didn't even have to look for you, i just saw you. even at the very back, behind a giant guy, i still saw you. i looked at you, and i haven't looked away ever since."

you looked away, unable to hold the eye contact. "but it felt like you never saw me..., i wanted you to look at me so badly..."

she chuckled dryly, almost bitterly, "you were the only one i saw. i couldn't remember a single person in my classes, i don't recognize anyone but you," something pulled you back to her eyes. her face was relaxed. her shoulders were loose, and she was present, with you. just with you. for the first time, she seemed aimless. like she wasn't trying to get anywhere, or do anything. like she didn't have a goal. "i hate that the only thing i can see is the way your lips twitch, or your leg bounce, our your fingers fiddle with your pen. i see when you get lost in what i teach from the way your eyebrows furrow and you mouth a what the fuck before giving up. i see the way you actively try to hide behind your classmate, or the way you try to be as small as possible in my class. i see you and everything you do, and i hate it.

"i hate that i think about you. that i can't escape from you. even on the weekends, i think about that day when you came in with lip gloss on instead of lipstick and i wonder what kept you up at night that you ran late. when i'm going home, i think about you and if you'd caught the bus on your way home, or if you even ride the bus. and when you got drunk, i was in my office the next day, and i was wondering if you took medicine, if you were okay, if you were hungover, if you stayed over or if you went to your house."

your phone rang. and the air shatters.

you looked at natasha for a second, but she was already looking away. so you brought your phone up to your ear and turned away, "billy! hi...," you greeted with faux enthusiasm.

you could hear the noise from his end, the people talking, the meats cooking, "where are you? i want to introduce you to people!" he says. you can hear the smile in his voice.

you gave an emphatic smile, "i'm trying to choose a dress before i shower. i might take a while."

"i'm sure you'd like great even in a shirt and sweatpants, you're perfect!"

you forced a chuckle. "thank you."

"tell me if i need to get you, okay?"

"okay."

"i love you!"

silence.

"i love you too."

you closed the call. and natasha passed right by you on her way out, but you caught her arm before she made it. "wait," you say, turning her around. "we're not finished."

"i don't know what else you want to hear dear, but you should really get back to your boyfriend," she attempts to leave again, but your grip tightens.

"so what—so you can ignore me again? so you can pretend i don't exist one day, and tell me you only see me the next?" you're angry now. you were challenging the challenger. but you're tired of letting her have all the cards, of playing a game clearly only she has control over. you're tired of her. "i'm tired of the hot and cold, mrs. romanoff," i'm tired of one day feeling okay to call you natasha, one day feeling okay calling you mommy, then feeling i'm only entitled to a mrs. romanoff the next.

she looked away, smirking bitterly as if thinking about it. "fine, you want to hear it?" she says, breaking out of your hold. "you want to hear me say it?"

you were afraid she was angry. but she wasn't. her voice was raising. she wasn't shouting, and her eyes, they weren't staring soullessly into you. her jaw wasn't clenched, and somehow, you feel her racing heart, and her subtly heaving chest.

"you want to hear that it's wrong? it's wrong, y/n. you were my student. and i tell myself that whenever i think of you, whenever i see you, whenever i feel you, whenever i want you. when my heart skips, when i smile, when i grow excited to walk into my class because i know you'd be there, when i'm practically pulling the sun out of its sleep so it can be the next day, and i can see you again. i tell myself it's wrong. you were my student, and i was married," you could see the way her pupils dilated. she was thinking of wanda. you can always tell when she's thinking of wanda. "but i still wanted you."

it was odd to think that while the world went on outside, the two of you shared a moment as if frozen in time inside the privacy of her home. that in this very moment, it was just you and her, and whatever desire you have for each other. nobody else, nothing.

it was always like that between you two. it was always you and her. you always forget about anyone else outside your bubble. you forget about wanda, you forget about billy.

but she doesn't.

she lives with the guilt while you pretend it doesn't exist.

"so how do you think i felt when i finally pieced together that the girl i like was not just my student, but the girl my son was in love with? that she's as much a part of this family as i was?"

you were looking up at her, "you genuinely liked me...," you whisper.

"i tried not to. i tried to hate you. i ignored you, i humiliated you. you were my student. i needed to treat you as such. but i'm sorry, it was personal. i was actively trying to push you away. and then you were billy's bestfriend, and i had to hate you even more. but i couldn't," she was kinder. her voice was softer, just above a whisper. "and my wife was trying to fix our marriage. she was begging me to come home, billy needed me to come home. and i thought when i did, i'd finally escape you. i'd mend my marriage, and i'd stop caring about you. but even here you haunt me."

"natasha i—"

"i had to try extra hard, but i still wanted you, i burned for you, i desired you, i needed you. and i had always been terrible at resisting you. i always slipped before. and this time, i just... i couldn't," she paused to take a breath. and then she looked away with her lips that forced into a half smile. "but you love billy...," she whispers, completely avoiding your eyes. "and you should, i know him. he'll treat you right—"

you kissed her. you pulled her in by the neck, and you kissed her.

her hand quickly rested above your hips, pulling you impossibly close to her while your fingers found shelter between her crimson locks.

the kiss was hungry, you were sucking in so much of each other, and she had but one goal: to make you hers.

you were going around the kitchen, kissing, feeling for any surface she can take you on. your back hit a wall, but you flipped her over so her back was against the fridge. your hands were quickly feeling for her, running quickly against her sides, running back up on her abdomen past her breast, and back to her neck. you were trying to feel so much of her, every part of her like there wasn't enough time of the day.

because there really wasn't.

she was working on your denim shorts, and the lace that tied your top from the back. she switched with you so your back was against the cold metal fridge. and she pulled back, looking at you, panting, like silently asking for your permission.

her hair was all over the place, and you took it upon you to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. you smiled.

you held her hand on your neck, and you let it travel down your body. you lifted your chin to what the fridge behind you allowed when she caught on, and you pulled her hand to the gap between your covered breasts. and when it reached your stomach, you made sure to roll your eyes in the way that you knew might drive her crazy.

and then you pushed your hands between your two bodies so it reaches your wet core. you didn't let her touch. you felt her fingers extend in an attempt to reach it, but you held it far enough so she can only feel how warm you were without feeling you.

you made sure not to look at her. you closed your eyes, and you let your chest rise, and your mouth open slightly. it was as if you were playing with a sex toy. like you were holding a vibrator and teasing yourself with it.

you know she's in-charge. she would be in a few seconds, but you wanted to play a little. the only card you have against her was this, her imminent desire for you. and you wanted to use it. you wanted to tease her. you wanted to feel how it is to control her the same way she does you.

so you made it erotic, more than it should normally be—the way your back arched when you finally let her touch, controlling how long her finger stays, or how hard she pressed.

and then you let her fingers press a little harder on your swollen bud, and you moaned. she flipped you. she flipped you so quickly that you didn't realize your front was against the wall until she carried you by the stomach and bent you over the counter.

she made you spread your legs. and then her fingers danced on your core. she pressed on every part of you until you were grinding on her. "natasha, don't—" you breathed, "don't tease me," you were trying to stay in control, maybe her confession got to your little head. but you were trying to tell her what to do. and she wasn't having it. you had you time, your fun.

you gasped when she cupped your sex with her palm. "i think, you need to learn to be patient, dear," she whispers against your ear.

you felt her weight. and her warmth, and somehow, with the very little reason left in your body, you remembered the people in the backyard. the people who can pass through the hallway, and find a clear glimpse of you and the birthday boy's mother.

"natasha, someone might see," you whispered. "we can't do this here."

suddenly, she was rubbing your pussy with the entirety of her palm. she was rubbing your swollen nub, and your hole, and everything that her hand covered. your mouth dropped wide open to let out the most animalistic moan you had absolutely no control of. and then she pulls your hair back so your ear is right where her lips were.

"so?"

the voice of reason left, and it took all your inhibitions with it.

anybody can walk in or even pass by and they will be met by you being fucked on top of the kitchen island. they're going to see what slut billy's girlfriend is. what slut she is for his mother. but you can't stop grinding on her hand. the mere thought of someone seeing you being fucked out makes you grind even harder until her palm leaves your clothed pussy, and lands hard on your covered ass.

"mommy doesn't like naughty girls. you should know that, right?" she slaps you again. and then again. and then again. "didn't i tell you to be patient?"

she removed your shorts before pushing herself against you, pressing down on your body while pulling your hair as far as your body allowed. you can feel her bulge against your cunt. and you couldn't help but grind against her dress, fully knowing the juices you'll be leaving on it, but frankly you couldn't care less.

"please, i just need you to fuck me.." you cried. "please, nat..."

her eyebrows pinched almost in insincere pity. "now, is that the way to talk to your mommy?"

"mommy, please..."

she made you sit on the counter, never letting go of the grip she had on your hair. you were panting. and huffing. you were like a puppy in heat as you faced her with legs all spread out on top of the counter. you presented her with the cunt that only she gets to touch. the pussy that she's claimed the first time she touched you.

her eyes softened for a moment when she comes as close as the counter gave her the space to. her other hand falls on your waist, while the other tugs at your hair so your faces are just an inch apart. she looked concerned, she looked like she was about to give into what you want. but then she doesn't.

"you have no idea how much i wanted you," she says, and suddenly her hand's on your neck, while the other finally makes contact with your cunt, pushing your lace underwear to the side. "i thought it would be less after i that night, but no... i just... i couldn't resist. i wanted you so badly, and i keep wanting more of you everyday."

your hips grinded harder against her fingers and then finally when she slammed two into you. and your eyes roll to the back of your head, your hips meeting her thrusts.

"god, yes mommy. please fuck me."

her grip on your neck tightens. "but you're billy's aren't you?" something in your stomach tightens. and you weren't sure what billy's mother wanted you to say. you weren't sure if she knew what she was saying, and what she was making you say.

but you sensed it. she sounded angry upset. and with the way she's restricting your airways, and the way she's slamming unforgivingly against your pussy, you knew.

she was fucking her son's girlfriend on the kitchen counter on his birthday. yet, you feel it inappropriate to tell his mother that you don't belong to her son, you're boyfriend.

but it was only true. "no...," you say.

you need her. her fingers aren't enough. you wanted her to stretch you out. you wanted to feel her against every part of your cunt.

"right...," she says. "who do you belong to, sweetheart?" her grip tightens even more when she adds another finger and your hips jolts up as your eyes roll impossibly further back into your head.

you were screaming her name. chanting it over and over again until her grip tightens even more. "quickly, sweetheart. i heard the backyard door open," she was bluffing. but you wouldn't know.

you couldn't breath. your hand takes grasp of her wrist, but it wasn't to stop her hand from gripping your neck. you couldn't care less about air when she just added the last of her four fingers while her thumb circles your clit.

you were chasing your high. you wanted this so badly. the way she was reaching spots, rubbing against parts you didn't even know existed. you were losing your mind. you couldn't breath, you couldn't think. your mind was blank, and it might be that you're about to pass out, that your close to seeing stars, but you knew that if you were on your deathbed, this might just be the memory you'd be wishing to relive.

"who do you belong to?"

you grinded even harder, your hips were writhing against the fingers that only increased in pace. you were hazy. you were a moaning mess. and right at the very last second when you can feel yourself slipping away in pure ecstasy and an incredibly limited amount of air, you were able to mutter, "you."

and then she lets you go right at the very second you exploded in her fingers. her hand was no longer on your neck, it was pressing on your chest just below your collarbone as she lets you ride out your high. your moans. her name. your cries. it was all music to her ears.

your consciousness came back, all along with your reason, and reality itself. you opened your eyes, panting.

and quickly, you dressed yourself, and she fixed herself when you did hear the backyard door open this time, and footsteps came approaching.

she pulled you in by the hand one last time to land a kiss on your forehead before she stepped away, and right on time, wanda came in.

"oh god, there you two are! we have been waiting for you to come out!" wanda says, rushing towards natasha but laying a careful touch on you when she passed by, "billy's looking for you dear," she tells you before she goes to the fridge where natasha waits for her. "oh lord, look at you! what ever happened to your hair?" while mrs. maximoff was fussing over her wife against the fridge, natasha was looking at you with a smug look on her face, like you two shared an inside joke no one in the world would ever know about. "quickly, quickly. we have to give a toast for the twins."

you left the two alone, going out to the backyard first where billy quickly welcomed you to his arms. you thought they deserved the privacy, you thought it was respectful to do so.

billy had his arm around your waist while he introduced you to absolutely everyone. the names got lost in your mind, but the few people you took note of were: tony stark, clint barton, bruce banner, and steve rogers.

half of them were professors. the other, you knew to be very famous. but billy left you with them when he was called onto by someone asking for help with the grill, and they were surprisingly, really fun.

you've learned they were very close to natasha. and now, you assumed that maybe they were this little group. from the way the four of them stuck together the entire time, you only assumed they were more here for natasha than wanda, or the party.

"so this is the special girl, huh?" clint opens with a one-arm hug.

"if you get tired of romanoff's bs, call me. i'll get you on a stark workshop, and i'll give you a job,"tony interjects, giving you a card. "you don't need romanoff."

"hell, he'll give you a house," clint laughs.

"or a mansion," stark adds. "whatever floats your boat."

"ask him to pay for you college fund. that's how i guaranteed free college for my three kids," clint whispers.

"it's nice to meet you, y/n l/n," steve cuts in between both tony and clint, and offered you his hand."i'm steve rogers, history and geography. nat has told us so much about you."

"i'm uh—bruce banner. chemistry," the other one says.

you knew who they were. everyone knew who they were. but you still shook their hands like you didn't.

soon, more than a few minutes of the four's overlapping attempts in making conversation with you, you heard a soft call for a toast.

before you could fully let sink in the image of vision and tommy, and wanda at the center with a glass raised and a butter knife gently hitting it, and natasha romanoff, billy snatched you right from the group and pulled you right to where they stood—the pieces of a broken family that still stands so tall and perfect.

you wanted to appreciate them a bit, while you and billy walk towards them. these people are a part of a big messy tree which you can guess has a lot of history. they were broken, and while the pieces meet, nothing would mend them back together.

but that's the beauty of it. you could see how perfectly they all fit together, even natasha. despite the gaps in between, this works. this dynamic works. they stay the family everyone wants to have despite the cracks. they stay perfect, and shiny.

you wanted to take a good look at them, before you break it. before you break it more. before you officially become a piece that would ruin the dynamic, the family, the specificity of everything that makes this work.

billy gives you a peck on the forehead, before letting you off to natasha who stands a few steps behind wanda who now had the twins on either side.

you didn't say anything, you just stood right next to her as if she just hadn't make you see stars 30 minutes ago.

and then suddenly you felt an arm snake behind you and pull you closer to her by the waist before it rested on the lower part of your back. she didn't say anything, she just took a sip from her glass as if her finger wasn't tracing patterns while wresting on your back.

"natasha," you whispered, looking at the grass beneath you. "i like you too."

she didn't respond for a while. but you feel her push her hand into the back pocket of your denim shorts.

"then how about we sneak out and go on a little date?"

you knew that the second she stepped out, and the moment you found a chance to follow her, that was the beginning of a secret that would ruin everything that you have.

and frankly, that did not stop you from getting on her motorcycle anyway.

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